#cus this is kind of all over the place but we live and we learn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karkatting · 2 years

Text

alphaswitch au - introduction

hi! here is some info about the alphaswitch au by @clockworkdrop and i, since some people expressed interest in it!

all of this is directly copied from the huge doc we have, and this post is mostly focused on the characters. not everything is set in stone/planned out yet, so some characters have more info than others. my plan is to update this post with new stuff as we figure it out lol.

general stuff

alpha kids and dancestor trolls are the ‘beta session(s)’

dirk and roxy live in the same year as jane and jake

alpha kids and dancestors are the same age (16 at the beginning, 19 by the end)

not a direct parallel of the canon beta session, some things are different

session lasts several months

the rest is under a readmore cus this shits long

alpha humans

jane:

server player: roxy

sprite: gcat + poppop

patron troll: aranea

receives guidance from meenah

guardian, dad (dad), john is deceased

meenah insisted on being her guide instead of aranea because of their connection

meenah tries to give relationship advice but since she’s jumping all over it’s not helpful

jake:

server player: supposed to be jane, ends up being dirk

sprite: dirkbot + ??

patron troll: kankri

receives guidance from aranea

guardian, jade, is deceased and was grown into a giant tree on the island

aranea became his guide after kankri fucked off and meenah stole jane from her

aranea tries to give him romantic advice but it kinda doesn’t work

roxy:

server player: dirk

sprite: wizard doll + frigglish

patron troll & guidance: porrim

guardian, rose, is a prolific author whom roxy really looks up to, but she feels a sort of distance from her that she doesn’t know how to fix

often talks to meulin about cats and other things. roxy learns about the quadrant system from her

when her mom dies, has an aspect berserk moment similar to rose’s grimdark that causes her viewport to go dark

has some internalized homophobia, doesn’t know she’s not straight (yet)

dirk:

server player: jake

sprite: a puppet i guess + dirk’s head

patron troll: latula

receives guidance from kankri & latula

guardian, dave, is a famous movie director and is rarely home. he leaves various items and notes around the house for him

secretly wants to be closer with him, probably kind of fucked up when he dies

still has lil hal who is just as much of a nuisance. maybe even more so

while his patron troll is latula, kankri quickly took her place as his guide both because dirk is the only one that can even somewhat handle talking to him and kankri finds him infuriating in an intrigued way. he also thought latula wasn’t “doing it right”

he still talks to latula, they get along well. she maybe helps him out with jake stuff cus kankri sure as hell isn’t going to. she is also more helpful with game stuff than kankri is

after dirkjake kiss, dirks head ends up in dirks puppet sprite so he has dirksprite (another splinter, he mad)

hal

still glasses

just being so annoying to dirk

also to kankri

he figures out whats up with dirkkri before dirk does

eventually dirk is convinced to make the body for him, its a horse robot but it can also transform into a human body too. hal loves it unironically but dirk is using like 12 layers of irony to rationalize this being a good decision

trolls

session lasts 3 years (13-16)

won but just barely

still gave the frog cancer

tons of teen drama still

basically everything that was described in the comic to happen before the dreambubbles still happens, except the scratch

kankri:

trollhandle: genesiologicalCancriform (GC)

genesiology - obsolete term for study of genetics/reproduction

cancriform - latin adjective describing crabs/cancers

in a neverending cycle of debate with his past and future selves

probably likes troll documentaries

panquadromantic like karkat, but just suppresses any sort of romantic feelings he has towards anyone. a lot of internalized… panquadrophobia???

pretends he’s not suppressing anything because all microlabels are valid but also shames porrim but he’s never been a hypocrite in his life

his celibacy is more of a result of the hemocaste system on beforus rather than a genuine disinterest in romance - he wants to feel independent and not be “coddled” by anyone

picks fights/debates with dirk over stupid shit just for the hell of it

still has a crush on latula (at first)

pacifist, so probably relied on porrim to help him during the game (was mad about it though) (his plan was to lecture to imps and ogres to go away)

she teaches him how to use guns but he still rarely utilizes it

Still wearing the leggings until right when the humans arrive, when porrim gives him the sweater

arc: learning to listen to his friends instead of speaking over them, not be misogynistic and ableist, quadrant stuff, recognize some of the group don’t care about hemospectrum, learn to accept help from others (and hopefully get the rest of them there) (dirk helps with most of it)

meulin:

trollhandle: catalysislAficionado (CA)

catalysis - a catalyst is something that provokes significant change or action, referring to her matchmaking

aficionado - she loves doing it

very invested in the love lives of the kids and tries to help them out with their crushes even if it has no chance of happening

idk i think she’s just taking them like barbies and smooshing their heads together

has a tendency to view others as characters rather than real people

causes problems through incompetence/obliviousness to others’ feelings

besties/eventual moirails with roxy

this catgirl can fit so many repressed emotions in her

arc: get away from kurloz (roxy), learn boundaries (also roxy?)

meenah:

trollhandle: (CC)

feels connected to jane after going through her timeline, for reasons she doesn’t understand (yet)

tries to get jane to do dangerous stuff because she thinks it’ll make her a stronger player

constantly jumps around the timeline because she’s looking for exciting things to do

godtier

arc: meenah really cares about her friends but they all have strained relationships because she spent so long bullying them to make them stronger at the game, so a good place for her arc would be her becoming a good leader but not through like dictatorship and telling them what to do or whatever, but just by learning to better utilize how she cares and lead by supporting them. not feeling the need to steal things and gain power or something

aranea:

trollhandle: ????Avicularia (GA)

avicularia - genus of spiders, specifically tarantulas. idk i thought it sounded cool

godtier

mastermind behind the dirkjake kiss

talks to the kids about classpects but like in a calliope way where it’s a little too literal

pushing jake hard to level up since pages are a “weaker class” (in the same vein of vriska with tavros and also john)

while vriska tries to learn a lot about the game so she can cheat to the end, aranea learns a lot about the game so she can know everything and make the best plan to win.

latula:

trollhandle: calibratingGriptape (CG)

calibrating - parallels terezi’s handle

griptape - grip tape is the material on top of a skateboard

prompted to give dirk relationship advice after seeing the dirkjake kiss. she thought it was very cool

even though kankri “took her place” as dirk’s guide, she still ends up helping dirk more because kankri kind of sucks at it

has a lot of thoughts about being pushed out by kankri but is trying not to show it (rad girl facade, etc)

arc: stop putting on the rad girl persona and be herself

porrim:

Trollhandle: antevortianGirl (AG)

antevorta - roman goddess of childbirth and prophecy

girl - #girl

serves as roxy’s guide/patron troll during the game. helps her with actual game stuff as opposed to meulin who helps her with interpersonal stuff

arc: stop infantalizing everyone below her on hemospectrum, something something matriorb

damara

trollhandle: (AA)

maybe talks to jane about how jake keeps telling her about their relationship and asking for advice, is just like “yeah, it sucks huh”

maybe drops the LE stuff during the alpha session? still causing problems on purpose though

not very invested in the kids, mostly causing problems on the meteor

she gets knocked out before she can doom the timeline, porrim (shes her main friend and also mom stuff) carries her to the door with the group. damara wakes up already locked in the meteor. maybe scratch messages her and tells her she failed and is also like really creepy like always. and then she watches jane stuff and is just like. yeah no this is the worst

jane and damara parallels. they are there

arc: recognize that others have gone through same stuff as her (jane), reject le, tell rufioh to knock it off (probably remain friends after that)(roxy helps), doesn’t have to forgive everyone else for their treatment of her if she doesn’t want to

rufioh:

trollhandle: (TA)

something something dirkjake parallels

dude’s a mess

mituna:

trollhandle: (AT)

actually stands up to cronus

still dubiously godtier

kurloz

trollhandle: (CT)

the stuff kurloz is involved in relates to see no evil (mituna) hear no evil (meulin) speak no evil (kurloz) but according to fridgestuck theres a fourth that's sometimes smell no evil (latula).

also caused cronus’s rejection of magic and belief in the prophecy

meulin and mituna friendship arc

something something kurloz is in charge of black ships and the conflict resolution quadrant is a black ship and kurloz is actively sabotaging them and maybe this is why they can't fix any of their problems at some point we gotta figure out what to do with him

roxy probably suspects somethings up with him (close to meulin and would recognize that she seems forgetful after seeing him, batterwitch), would probably be frustrated that meulin doesn’t believe her but would find ways to keep her away from him

crisis of faith when interacting with humans, leads to him ditching clown religion. no idea where that goes from there

someone figures out the mind control and other stuff, meulin, mituna, and cronus can decide if they forgive him or not

cronus

trollhandle: (AC)

roxy has a conversation with cronus, its bad

he literally JUST dropped the wizard act within the last year or so, so seeing her wizard stuff he probably makes fun of her or something

hates jake because he’s the hero of hope that might take over his place in the prophecies he felt entitled to

jake messes with him about human culture like the “telling caliborn what gay means” thing

leads to him losing ALL hope, leading to mituna fight

cronus hits on all of them and brings up the fact he is humankin a lot

gets the idea to be humankin from watching the timelines, was probably still doing the wizard thing until that moment, or had picked up a different persona in the session and switched to human then

arc: downward spiral from hopelessness (jake), become somewhat less of an asshole

beta humans

stuck in a void session for 6 years

in communication with the cherubs

egbert:

sprite:

pre-retcon: ?? + ??

post-retcon: meulin + dirksprite (after reunion)

acting like there are no problems while actively looking at many problems

june realization at some point

rose:

sprite:

pre-retcon: ?? + ??

post-retcon: roxy + frigglishsprite (after reunion)

having a crisis about relevance

is painfully aware that this session is basically set up to make them lose their minds

drinking arc (mom’s alcohol in house)

dave:

sprite: crow + doomed dave

plays with time loops a little but realizes he’s making eternity even longer so stops unless necessary

still does a lot of reflection about bro since he'd still be around people who care about him

coming out: rose knows pre-game but they probably never officially told each other. maybe he tells her in like year 1 or 2. but he doesn't come out to the others until he's like 17 at least probably. davesprite too

at some point he grows out his hair really long, but it’s totally not to look like nic cage so a certain someone who loves nic cage might be interested who would do that

(crushing big time on egbert)

jade:

sprite: bec + dream jade

happy to be around her friends and not trapped on an island, but she is also super frustrated that it isn't like what she saw in her dreams

first one to snap after keeping her frustration bottled up. after that, rose sets a rule that they have to be honest to avoid more of that. (obviously they don’t stick to that very well)

i guess she godtiers at some point to be dog

cherubs

calliope:

friendly to all of them

probably just similar to how she was to the alphas

(she probably still has to die 🙁)

they will save her

caliborn:

jeers dave the most

is upset that he is not like alpha male

kickstarts dave’s de-masculinity stuff

asks dave for art of his friends

dave just changes the colors of the making this happen picture

platonically hates all of them. if he does the "you're attractive and ugly" thing like with jane, that's at jade

egbert really hates his art

similar to the alphas, mostly focuses on the boys and avoids/is creepy to the girls. probably pissed about june stuff cus he sucks

#txt #homestuck #alphaswitch au #not tagging anything else cus its probably gonna show up in searches anyway

142 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year

Note

AITA for abandoning a friend?

so basically, my (24N) friend (23F) lives in a shithole by herself. kind of a bad situation for the country i live in, cus ideally youd either have roommates or live w ur parents until you get a job (not an easy feat). shes got a past and all, shes depressed, shes overall in a shitty situation. we are both part of a larger friend group but i try to be there for her as best as i can. however.

she recently got a (second) cat, and she probably didnt de-flea (?) him properly, so she ended up w fleas in her house. small house, two cats, lots of things for parasites to cling to. she immediately found herself in an infestation. she tried to deal w the situation herself (shes not renting, not her own home either, weird situation) bc she doesnt have enough money to call pest control, shes done all the cleaning n stuff, and finally she stayed for a week at a communal rented place we use for volunteering and other activities with our larger friend group + other ppl in the community, so that the product she sprayed could sit and also not kill her cats in the meantime.

now, once the week was over she was going to come back to her place and clean up again - not a big apartment (small kitchen, small living room, small bedroom and a microscopic bathroom, essentially doable for one person) but still she kinda asked us "hey if anyone can help me out id really appreciate it". i did not help. also, the morning of the day she was going back we were at this place for an event (that ended up not happening anyway), and someone (allegedly) saw a flea, and instead of helping her clean i ran away the minute i learned the event wasnt happening.

i want to clarify that the reason why i didnt help is mainly that 1) i live w my mom in a cluttered home (equally my and my moms fault), and i couldnt possibly risk my mom and our entire home getting fleas 2) i also have my own cat, who has long hair on top of simply being a creature i am responsible for, and i didnt want to endanger him. but i still feel like an asshole for not helping her bc shes in this shitty situation and as a friend i should be there for her. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

50 notes · View notes

formula-red · 1 year

Text

man these kids. this week has been so insane.

(continued below the cut cus this will be way too long)

ok so for like. those of you who care to read to this and who may not know this. i’m working in a rural school in the usa and by nature of the area a lot of our kids are really traumatised. a lot don’t get enough to eat or sleep and we have a significant population living w.out water or electricity. and i’m workin with a lot of our little guys. most of the day i spend with k/1 so like 5-7 y/os and then at the end of the day i see some 3 and 5s so like 8 y/o then 10 y/os.

alright so with that out of the way. the attachment issues and trauma frequency being so high means these kids have a really tough time in school and a lot of behavioural/emotional issues. even our little guys; they’ll lash out a lot and hit us or cry and really don’t do so well sometimes. but omg. these sweet little babies. augh. they just need someone who gives a fuck about them and who is kind to them.

so, as some of u guys have seen, i have my own trauma lol and i know what its like to an extent– obviously my experience is my own and drastically different than theirs but. like. i know enough. so its really important to me to just be kind to these guys even when they’re being mean and acting out. and augh. the reactions i’ve gotten from it.

i’ve already been able to get a few kids down from like. full on sobbing snotty tears streaming down the face defcon 3 meltdowns. one of them (like a 7y/o) had been with another person for like 10-15 mins and when i traded places was still in full meltdown and i had her back in the classroom and tear free in like 5 minutes bc like. i just sat down with her on the floor and talked to her and more importantly fucking listened to her. and another boy (10 y/o) who had been so bad during this group work for the first half of the week. i talked to him and was like bud i really don’t want you to get in trouble that’s not at all my goal here but we have to turn some work in . and he was still refusing to participate but i noticed he was kind of looking on a few minutes later but didnt have a pencil. so i put my own pencil down on his paper without saying anything while still working with the other kids and he just put his head down for like 30s all emotional before picking it up and joining in and he’s been so much better for me now. like SOB.

but yesterday. oh man. YESTERDAY. (kdz has already had a detailed recount of this but.) i have two boys, one in kinder one in 1st grade, and they both have really tough home lives. and i don’t know what happened yesterday but both of them were like GLUED to me. i mean they were both having a hard time and at separate points during the day i had to take them aside and just be like. what’s goin on why are you acting like this today and both ended up basically crying and hugging me a bunch and then wouldn’t go anywhere without holding my hand. and now they’re my little buddies when i’m in their classroom. the little tiny one even said HE WAS SCARED WHEN I LEFT FOR A FEW MINUTES 😭😭😭 when i had come back he ran over and hugged me and was just like. stuck to me.

like augh. idk how to explain what it’s like working with them. it’s really special to be a safe person for them and to be able to help them be more comfortable at school and to help them learn but it’s so fucking heartbreaking man. i hate knowing these kids go home to all the shit they go through. and of course it can be really frustrating and hard when they are mean or act out but augh. man. these kids just need love. so bad. i genuinely care for them so much already . augh augh augh augh augh

#this is a huge word vomit. sorry #jd's wv

13 notes · View notes

merryfortune · 2 years

Text

We Rolled More Kindly This Time in the Game of Life (Part Two)

Written for Multiamory March 2023

Day 15: Adoption

Title: We Rolled More Kindly This Time in the Game of Life (Part 2)

Ship: Lieutenantshipping | Aso/Kyoko/Genome

Focus: Spectre & Aso & Genome & Kyoko

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains

Rating: G

Word Count: 2,640

Tags: Fluff, Found Family, Outside POV, Queerplatonic Relationships

There had been previous attempts to adopt Spectre out, of course.

The whole idea was to rehome less fortunate children into better situations however… At first he was just unlucky.

Oh no, we want a girl not a boy. We do want a boy but we’d prefer a boy who looked more like us. It’s sort of, um, unlucky, don’t you think? To have a baby that doesn’t cry… Its sort of creepy, we’d much prefer to have a lively baby, even if we do lose sleep over it, cuing to laughter.

Other times it was just unlucky. The paperwork got lost in the mail. Some one off event all but forgotten to the couple from their youth disqualified them. A combination of both in which the paperwork was incorrectly filled out.

And then after all these mishaps, Spectre got old enough to understand what adoption was. It was moving. It was being forced into a nuclear family he did not ask for. It meant he could never see his real Mother ever again.

So Spectre began to sabotage himself. He learned real quick a lot of people were very prissy about worms even though they were very important to the ecosystem. He would be rude and unlikeable on purpose. Even going so far as breaking toys to make himself unwanted.

As much as he hated the Orphanage and the Orphanage appeared to hate him, Spectre was determined to stay. Because staying meant that he could be close to his real Mother, his Mother Tree. She was the best, she actually loved him.

Her face may have been a wooden knot far into the middle of her trunk but it was kind and gentle. Her hair was foliage, her arms were tree branches, and her legs were roots. Despite all this, when wind whistled through her leaves, it made for Spectre’s most favourite lullaby. She was strong and stalwart when he hugged her and he felt hugged back by her in the quiver of her twigs. He could nap in the boughs of her as though against her breast or under her roots like a lap.

Spectre was going to stay at the Orphanage until he was a grown up and then, when he was grown up, he could do whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was to stay with his Mother. He just had some growing to do. Ten-ish years, Spectre believed, and then at sixteen or so he could get emancipated.

(And yes, being precocious and perceptive, he knew and used that word exactly as intended.)

That was Spectre’s plan. That was all Spectre wanted.

But then something occurred and he couldn’t quite explain it.

His Mother… She had been cut down.

Being all of six years old, Spectre could not fathom why such a thing was done. She was not fire wood. She was not something to be turned into pencils. And yet. She had been struck down clean in half, the top of her taken and what remained of her was a stump taller than him.

Spectre buckled at the knee as he sobbed. He hated them. He hated humans. They abandoned him. They were cruel to him. And now they had done this to him.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do next but he was sure as sure as anything not going back to the Orphanage. There was no point. He had nothing to keep him there anymore. Nothing to live for it. It didn’t matter.

So Spectre ran.

He didn’t know where to. He had no other place to go but he ran. He couldn’t bear to see his Mother in this state and so he ran as far as his little body could carry him. All whilst tears streamed down his face. He didn’t look where he was going, he got up when he tripped. Mud and grass stains didn’t bother him.

But hunger eventually did.

He accepted he wasn’t going to get dinner tonight. It had been so long since school snacks and lunch beforehand. Spectre found himself on the side of the road. He plopped himself under a tree and held his hungry belly. He watched as people passed him by, not even looking at him.

But he did want someone to look at him. He didn’t know who though. Not the Orphanage Matrons but someone else. A friend? He didn’t have any friends.

Spectre stayed there for an hour longer. Just on the corner of some street, under some tree. He didn’t budge, not even as it began to spit rain and the clouds looked ready to storm after this gloomy precursor. As time continued to pass, no one came for him. Not yet at least. He had a nagging worry at the back of his mind that the matrons would eventually come for him.

Yet someone else came for him first.

“Hey, are you okay? You look sad…”

Spectre looked up and he saw a boy who was only a little bit taller and older than him. He had fluffy white hair and the most beautiful eyes that Spectre had ever seen on a boy - or anyone, really. His heart skipped a beat as he was offered a helping hand.

And one thing turned into another. He wasn’t okay. He was sad. And this boy did his best - above and beyond his best, even - to be sympathetic to Spectre and comfort him. So, they introduced themselves to each other and suddenly, Spectre had a friend.

As well as an invitation to this boy’s sleepover party.

His name was Kogami Ryoken and he wanted to be Spectre’s friend and, more excitingly, Spectre wanted to be his.

They talked the whole way home. Well, to Ryoken’s home and it was not at all what Spectre had been expecting. He had been expecting a house with maybe a small garden or backyard at best. Most people in the city lived in apartments and flats, Spectre had observed. Ryoken and his family were not like most people, nor were they like some people. They were like the smallest, most royal people as he lived in a mansion the size of a castle with sweeping lawns and pretty gardens.

Spectre felt as though he had tumbled into a dream. Or a fairy tale. But then he was in for a rude shock. He was not Ryoken’s only friend, nor the only invite to the sleepover.

There was another and his name was Fujiki Yusaku. He wanted to be Spectre’s friend, too, since they already had Ryoken in common. Spectre, however, did not want to be Yusaku’s friend.

There wasn’t an overly specific reason that Spectre didn’t want to be friends with Yusaku. He just made his first and he wanted it to be special and somehow knowing he was second made it a whole lot less special for him. So he did his best to be rude and unlikeable, that was always something he was good at.

Yet it didn’t work on Yusaku. He was too… something Spectre didn’t like nor knew how to word. He wasn’t the centre of attention or anything but something else. Regardless, whatever he was, by morning, Spectre had to admit. They were friends. All three of them. Him, Ryoken, and Yusaku.

However, also by morning, Spectre was told he had to leave. Had to go home. And Spectre didn’t want to go home. As far as he was concerned, the Orphanage was not his home and the closest place to what felt like home for him was ruined. Had been cut down.

Spectre did his best to explain his situation to Ryoken’s Father - Dr. Kogami - but also the other adults who were hanging around this place as well. He spoke at length about his experiences with the Orphanage and how he didn’t want to go back. They listened about as well as adults could to a kindergartener in a unique predicament but at least they listened.

And when they did, Spectre watched. He got their names and their appearances, even their habits. Aso. Kyoko. And um… Dr Genome? They seemed to have jobs here, Spectre thought. Scientists or something but they also seemed like friends as family relatives to Ryoken, something he’d only really seen in books and cartoons.

They were a weird bunch. Two men and a woman. The woman was very young, younger than the matrons at the Orphanage whereas the men seemed about the same age or if not older than the adults that Spectre was used to seeing (and being under the oppressive thumb of).

They liked to laugh and joke and even though Dr. Kogami seemed determined to be distant to Spectre, as well as Yusaku, he’d noticed, these other adults weren’t like that. They didn’t necessarily want to be close to him but they wanted to keep an eye on him.

Kyoko and Aso seemed nice, Spectre thought. Dr Genome was weird but it made him laugh. They were an odd bunch but they liked him and odder still, Spectre came to like them.

All the time they had together was breakfast and morning tea. But that was just enough time, it seemed.

Yusaku’s Mother had picked him up earlier and the matrons said they couldn’t collect him until eleven-thirty because they had so much to do. Many other children in their care and whatnot.

But by the end of it, before the matrons arrived, they were still sitting at the dining room table. Ryoken had gone to have a shower, his Father was busy. So it was just them four. At a table. It reminded Spectre of something whilst they chatted.

“Do you have a favourite book, boy?” Aso asked him.

They never used his self-imposed nickname but that was fine. “Yes, its called Blue Angel.” Spectre replied.

“And what about a favourite subject at school?” Kyoko asked.

“Um… reading and writing.” Spectre said. “But I like science and geography, too.”

“A little academic to be.” Dr. Genome laughed approvingly.

“And how would you feel about being adopted? By us?” Kyoko asked.

Spectre felt his heart strike a chord. He watched as Aso put his hand over Kyoko’s. Suddenly he knew, before, what he had been reminded of. Adoption compatibility interviews. The ones he normally brought worms and headless Barbie dolls to.

“I don’t… we don’t know how much you know about when adults grow up and get married but we aren’t. We’re in civil partnerships - do you know what that is?” Aso began to explain.

Spectre shook his head.

“It means we’re all committed to one another but not formally, like with marriage because we all love and are committed to one another. Kyoko and I, well, we could get married if we wanted to because we’re in romantic love with one another however, Genome is our very good friend but he doesn’t love us romantically. He loves us queerplatonically, instead and is still an important part of our relationship.” Aso said.

There were… a lot of big words but a lot of the time, adults like to dumb things down for Spectre. He knew he was smart but very rarely did, especially people who wanted to be prospective parents to him, trusted that. He licked his lips. He didn’t get it.

And he said as much, amusing Dr. Genome especially.

“What that means is,” he said, folding his arms, looking beady from behind his glasses, “is that we decide who we love and what we mean to each other. I could be your uncle. Or your dad. Or even your… I dunno, duncle. Same for Aso. Kyoko… feminine versions so your mum, or your aunt, your sister if you really wanted. Er, um, or your mumunt.” He was having a lot of fun coming up with smush terms but they weren’t really getting the reaction that he was after.

Namely laughter. Instead Spectre stared stoically. Seriously. With something of a little pout on his face.

He got the gist of all the jargon after that and couldn’t help but compare it to some of the bossier prospective parents he had encountered in his time. They had to be this, he had to be that. He didn’t want a Mother or a mum. He already had one. Even if she was now gone.

“It's up to you, of course,” Kyoko quickly added, “if you don’t want to be adopted, we’ll understand. We’ve only just met each other but if you want to stay, we have two apartments we share between ourselves and a spare bedroom in both, is all. We could transfer you to Ryoken and Yusaku’s school and… well, we’re new to being parents or foster guardians or whatever you want to call us so we can figure it out from there.”

Spectre still stared.

“The little man needs something more to sweeten the pot, eh?” Dr. Genome mused. “Tell us, what’s your favourite food? ‘Cause Aso here is a really good cook.”

“Tamagoyaki.” Spectre replied without thinking.

Aso laughed, “Why didn’t you say so earlier. I’ll make us up some and you can decide when your current carers arrive.”

He got up from the table, smile on his face, and when he walked past where Spectre was sitting, in a chair too big for him, Spectre stopped him. He grabbed Aso’s sleeve and Aso looked down towards him. Spectre looked up to meet his minutely befuddled stare.

“I… I wanna stay.” Spectre said in a tiny, meek voice. His hand trembled as he held onto Aso’s sleeve. “I want you guys to adopt me.”

It felt like an all too soon, all too rash decision but this place. Sure. Spectre was dazzled by everything it was as it was so different to the rudimentary, perpetually school-like building of the orphanage but it was more than that. It felt like home. It was a place he wanted to stay. Not run away from. He could only hope that Aso, Kyoko, and Dr. Genome’s apartments were the same way but with them in it, Spectre liked his chances.

“Good fella.” Dr. Genome said.

“We’re happy to have you as well.” Kyoko said, smiling.

“C’mon, let’s make tamagoyaki together.” Aso said.

Spectre nodded and Aso picked him up, placed him up high over his shoulders and Spectre felt like he was on a mountaintop. His head was almost touching the ceiling, even. Which was impressive because the Kogami mansion had some very tall ceilings. Kyoko and Dr. Genome tagged along too, to the kitchen to make more snacks.

“But one more thing,” Spectre asked for, frowning, “my name is Spectre! Not boy or good fella or little man: its Spectre! Su-pe-ku-ta!”

Dr. Genome laughed heartily, “See? He’s already taking after me, his duncle.”

“Stop it you.” Kyoko teased, lightly slapping Dr. Genome’s shoulder.

But Spectre laughed, too. Just a little bit. He couldn’t believe it. He had never ever in a million trillion years ever wanted to get adopted. Quite frankly even the matrons at the Orphanage were giving up on his chances to, as well, given his past behaviour and best efforts to villainise himself and so.

Were all very happy, very confounded, and very relieved that when they arrived to pick him up, they discovered they didn’t need to. Once the dreadful paperwork was done and this time, Spectre had his fingers crossed that it didn’t get lost in the mail. Nor incorrectly filled out. And that the background checks would come back squeaky clean.

All because he had found his… well… family. They weren’t a nuclear family. They were more amorphous than that. Sometimes two uncles, an aunt, and a nephew. Sometimes he was their son and they were his guardians. Sometimes something else entirely and that’s how all four of them liked it.

#multiamorymarch2023 #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #lieutenatshipping #spectre (vrains)#taki kyoko #kyoko taki #aso (vrains)#dr genome (vrains)#writing tag #We Rolled More Kindly This Time in the Game of Life (Part Two)#screams i care so very much about the knights of hanoi as found family #aso was so important to spectre he /abandoned/ his station to save him from ai #that is so important to me

4 notes · View notes

melanch0lynoodle · 6 months

Text

coming back on here to add something always reminds me how fast I be reacting to things, cus now I’m in a whole ass diff place and opposite side of what I was feeling before, that’s why I try to stay honest in these cus I can always look back and realize how Im truly feeling at the time and reflect. It’s kinda humbling but not gonna say anything cus I still do the same things. One thing I’m proud of myself for doing is taking a leap and holding myself to my promise of going to church on Sunday. That says a lot cus I’ve been dodging it for so long, I have a feeling I know why but I don’t want to make any assumptions or conclusions about it without being able to take the time to find out the real reason why. This is a big step and im not trying to just do it for my own satisfaction. I realize there’s things im going to have to face that I’ve already been discussing w myself but not honest w myself about yet to make change. W nel maybe this will help me in some way cus he teaches me things that I already know how to do or have been wanting to do . He’s healthy and brings good energy and intentions within my space. The only thing I worry about and actually fear is him being so caught up in his past that I end up giving myself to him just for it to benefit him only/leave me behind once he’s moved forward. I know our feelings towards each other are real and honestly I dont expect him to make this official at all but if we’re feeling this way towards each other and in both of our spaces/lives all the time then I do have the expectations of being the only person that you’re doing these kinds of things with. I get having a female friend but to be searching for one when I can be that for you while we get where we want to then why would we look for it so intentionally with someone else. I’m scared but I’m being vulnerable and it’s dangerous cus know he’s more likely to cut things off as we’ve already been back and forth about our feelings before. This time he’s different and it’s throwing me off and I even think he’s throwing himself off but it’s the honesty and when it really came down to things being over again he did admit his feeling regardless of how vulnerable he had to be with me with all he’s been through. There’s something about him that makes me feel happy and safe, I’ve never experienced feelings like this in a healthy way. He makes me want to be better not just for myself but him and my people, everyone close to me and lil auggie. I hate living for myself cus I get so selfish and caught up in the world. He’s in my life for a reason and I’ve never been this down bad before but at the same time so ahead cus of my past. I know better and and I need people in my circle who are gonna teach me things to grow/we can learn from but also support each other in ways to get to smh where we want to go. There’s a lot on my mind that I won’t get out tn but i wrote a lil so

0 notes

forestryfae · 7 months

Text

also they have like, when youre good enough at cleaninga nd keeping stuff clean and tidy and you have a good enough routine and you dont really need help with it anymore, you might be able to move into one of the apartments they have here at inpatient. and i rly hope im able to get into one soon ngl

problem is tho, i am not that good at keeping things clean and tidy. wish i was but i have to force myself to do it and that rarely starts to happen until it actually gets really really bad. last minute cleaning zoomies kind of fucked up arrangement in my brain i guess??? and on top of thta i completely fell out of my routine in like early november/december when i started having to plan to go home even tho i fucking hate that place. and then i got back an i got no fucking follow up or anything until i hadnt been to work in a month. like yeah maybe thats. maybe thats because i needed antidepressants and i didnt get to talk to a psychologist or anything when i got here cus they dont have one. and i didnt get any followups beyond "go to work" and i had no coping mechanisms or help to find any

like thats the worst part about this place. they take zero accountability for their own fuckups cus "you have to be responsible" like fuck off? do your fucking job so we dont have to be on your asses to get you to do One Single Thing

and they just dont actually undertsand that sometimes people struggle cus they grew up neglected and fucking terrified all the time. i very much would love to be able to not worry 24/7 about being normal enougha nd existing correctly but i am, again, unmedicated, have no therapy, was taught im not allowed to have emotions or im stupid as shit, i was yelled at for the tiniest fucking thing cus both of my parents are fucking insane, and i straight up did not grow up with any kind of like. they didnt teach me shit. showing your kid how to turn on a dishwasher or washingmachine is not the same as teaching your kid shit

mom took over EVERYTHING. i got my first apartment cus she wanted me out of the house so she got me one. i never had a choice in learning to drive cus she just signed me up for drivers lessons without telling me until after shed spent the money. she arranged to meet with a realtor without me and i didnt actually get much say in what house to buy if im being honest. i got to look at them, yeah, but i still needed her permission to buy them and she wouldnt let me look at any she didnt like or didnt think i should live in. shes been in charge of the renovation the whole time without talking to me, and just. bought stuff whenever with my money without consulting me. didnt bring me along for the stuff i did want to look at myself either, they just bought me stuff and that was that. why should i be involved in my own life after all

and thats what im grown up with. insults and yellinga nd screaming and being talked down to and degraded and mocked and bullied, zero fucking support, everything i do is supposed to be automated and they shouldnt have to act like parents at all, i should just know things. no teaching me shit, no actual good follow ups, not being involved in anything revolving myself. school was fucking horrible and i was not in any way helped or protected from that, they let me think it was my own fault i was being bullied and treated me the same fucking way the teachers and bullies did, there was pretty much no sympathy for that and they never fucking talke dto me about that, any mental illnesses are completely free for all to be mocked and ridiculed if they feel like it, and im lazy for being burnt out and crying literally every day for hours, no support, just. absolutely fucking horrible. i grew up with that. thats shit i didnt know wasnt normal. i didnt know none of that is how normal people treat eachother. i still feel like a fucking idiot whenever i set a basic boundary. there are foods i stay away from or hide from others that i eat because i used to get yelled at and shamed for eating them, im fucking scared to discuss stuff i want or want to do or think would be fun to try cus im worried ill be talked out of it or ridiculed, im constantly worried people fucking hate my guts or im about to be treated like dogshit for existing in a way i didnt know was wrong. like. i have to do my own fucking psychology lessons with myself cus i dont get help anywhere and i dont get help thats meaningful from anywhere. im so focused on Doing Things Right that i need to get a good grade in therapy. literally what the fuck

anyways i wish they had better ways to help people than just. do laundry go for a walk go to work socialize.

what if you hate yourself for doing laundry. or not doing it. or youre worried youll do it wrong. what if going for a walk fucking sucks because youre not supposed to have fun unless you have a good reason to do so, or youre scared youre not allowed to exist in the outside world and youll get yelled at for going for a walk, or you think people will be able to tell you dont know where youre going so theyll think youre a fuckking idiot. what if you cant socialize because you dont actually know how and noone ever taught you or treated you like you were important so you never learned. like. this is the kind of shit i still need help with. going to work is only gonna help so much. i still need help with the rest of. existing as a normal person.

but yeah anyways i think its dumb that they have in total 11 rooms with a bathroom, 1 room with a bathroom and kitchen, 2 small apartments, one cottage, two houses, and another large apartment. but we cant use the houses or the apartment because one house isnt technically liveable somehow?? under renovation ig? the other house had a pipe burst so now when you do laundry tehre your clothes smell like sewage afterwards, and the third apartment is being used by students like twice a year so noone can use it. its fucking dumb. give me the apartment for students. ill live with the students. i dont care. i just wanna make dinner on my own.

#talkies

1 note · View note

kathyprior4200 · 2 years

Text

Top 10 Beings Who Love Your Soul

Love is love, right? People can fall in love with whoever they like. We all love our families, partners, friends, and ourselves…at least that’s how it seems. Although we may hold those on Earth dear to our hearts, love is much more complicated. Love is the essence and foundation of relationships and who we are, but it manifests in an infinite number of ways. And love does not die…it lives on and always follows us no matter what realm we are in. (This is assuming that your soul lives on after death!). Love is actually not created equal, for the intensity of love that people have for us varies based on the relationship and closeness of it. You may be wondering, who or what understands you best? Here are the Top 10 people/beings:

#10: Universal Love as perceived on Earth

One could easily say that we are all connected on Earth and that is true…we just can’t perceive it. We are connected to every person, every animal, every plant on Earth because we are all made of energy. Despite this fact, for most of us, it appears like an abstract spiritual concept in our brains, and as a result, there is always a sort of disconnect. Being involved in communities can help one be aware that we are all on this journey of life together. There is a great larger connection, but there is hardly any intimacy involved.

How you love yourself on Earth varies.

#9 Your Friends/Coworkers/Neighbors

We all have our close friends who we form strong incredible bonds with. They appear to us like family or siblings in some cases. Sometimes we see them every day and consider then an extension of our family. At the same time though, the friendship relationship is unfortunately downplayed in society in comparison to the people related to us by blood. As a result, many of us will have stronger connections to our family members.

#8/7 Your Earth Family + Soulmate

For the most of us in the U.S., we can say that our families are the closest people in our lives. We grow up with our parents, learn from them, and take care of them for much of our lives. Western society emphasizes soulmates and romantic relationships, thus the bonds we share with our partners are the bonds that many Americans consider the strongest on Earth (along with children). (Although in other countries, community bonds are the strongest).

#8/7 Your Pets/Children

Numbers 8 and 7 are tied in this case since our families on Earth are complex and expanded. Something interesting happens in this case. Pets, infants, and many children instinctively know of unconditional love. Unlike the previous relationships, this kind of love has no expectations, is pure and untainted by fear and rules. Any parent who looks into the eyes of babies, children and pets only sees curiosity, love, and joy. Babies have recently arrived from the other side, thus they experience themselves as inseparable from their caregivers. Pets have no human concept of rules, expectations and the like. As long as their owner cares for them, they will love without question.

#6 Your Deities/Ascended Masters/Aliens/Jesus

Now we are entering the non-physical world where things operate differently. It is a place that only the spirit residents can understand. Although there are dark entities around, many spirits love and care for us because here, they can sense our thoughts, feelings, and our very soul. This changes everything about relationships and love because now there is pure divine connection with no blockages and no fear.

Deities and Ascended Masters are divine beings who watch over humanity as a whole. They have been with us for thousands of years and love us deeply. They want to help us as a collective, yet they also understand us individually. That’s why you’ll see many people feel a connection to Jesus, or Buddha, or certain pagan deities, because of and despite the culture they grew up in. These beings know who you are, and they have no concern about your appearance, thought they must be treated with respect along with their associated cultures. If you’re spiritually advanced enough and lucky enough, you may have a bond with several of these divine otherworldly beings who can help with downloads of knowledge. Although the bond is strong, they are still not major parts of our personal families…gods are busy beings after all!

#5 Your Earth Soul Family/Families

This relationship includes that of every soul you knew on Earth, plus your ancestors and descendants. Once you get to the other side, you’ll reunite with those you loved on Earth who had passed before you. Your parents, siblings, soulmates, children, and pets will all be there to greet you. The love will be stronger and pure now that everyone can share their memories and experiences with each other. One can say that the relationship with your families is a sort of middle ground between the more casual bonds and the more intense bonds. Believe it or not, there are stronger bonds, depending on the souls in question.

#4 Your Primary Soul Family

This kind of love gets supernaturally intense. Your primary soul family consists of the souls that have incarnated with you for many lifetimes. They are likely your current parents and family members and even your soulmate on Earth but may have also been different loved ones in your other lives. Your soul family/soul group goes beyond one lifetime because you’ve known each other for eons in many adventures. When you feel like you’ve met your lover before, they probably have been with you in other lives. It makes sense that your soul family would understand you more than you understand yourself at times, thus they are the strongest bonds you can form in existence, right?

Nope, there’s more!

#3 Your Spirit Guide and Celestial Guardian

Wait a minute! Spirit guides and celestial angel guardians are complete strangers! Why are they higher on the list than our own families? Great question.

Yes, spirit guides are those souls who’ve formerly lived life on Earth and have chosen to watch over you during your life. Your celestial guardian is there to protect you from accidents (hopefully) and assist in your transition at death. How can these strangers understand you more than your own family? What’s so unique about this strange bond?

Believe it or not, I’d even argue that the bond between you and your primary spirit guide is stronger than even your bond with your soulmate! We know that even when family members reincarnate, they can still watch us and be in any places at once. Perhaps your dad that passed away can send copies of his soul so he can watch over you and your siblings who live in different cities. But at the same time, your dad in spirit is, at the same time, having fun and learning new things in the spirit world. His energy can go into watching over family members at different times, but he’s not going to watch you forever…he knows you guys are fine and will also want to reunite with his past life families and harness his superpowers in the spirit world.

Spirit guides and guardians are different. Before you decided to come to Earth, those Light Beings helped you plan your lives and set your goals. They not only assisted you in the process of being born, but they are also there when you die to help with the transition. And there’s the fact that they are with you your whole life. That’s right…while every other being goes back and forth between watching over humans/animals and exploring their world, certain spirit guides and guardians have chosen ONE SINGLE MORTAL a.k.a. YOU, to watch the entire time. You, out of the billions of other souls in existence! No judgment, no hatred, no boredom, they are always just there! No matter how bad of a person you were, your guides never leave. Kind of creepy by human perception.

Some guides come and go, but there’s always that one guide who has studied your entire life and helps guide you through challenges and successes behind the scenes. They may have been in several of your past lives, but to us on Earth, they are unknown strangers. They live through us, can experience our thoughts/feelings and learn from us as we can learn from them. (They care about us deeply, but like a teacher comforting a child who didn’t want to share with their peers, they are not too concerned with our human reasons behind problems, because they’ve been there before.) Our soul knows who they are, but we as humans do not. The guides know that we will remember them after death and want us to live the best lives we can. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes we make, there are only gains and lessons, not real losses. (Did I mention that spirit guides can shapeshift into family members of any species, animals, religious figures, any form to make us feel comfortable?) Any spirit who wants to make contact with our mind will likely have to have permission from our leader guide/guardian.

The fact that those Light Being spirit guides and guardians want to focus their energy on learning, growing, and experiencing life in connection to one living person defies expectations. It is not a romantic, obsessive partnership…it is a mentorship, but one that’s so divine and so intimate, that it makes our human concept of romantic love seem like child’s play. They know all your thoughts and feelings, all your lives and your purpose before we do!

When we die from illnesses, we often have family members there to help us cross over. But your spirit guide is always there. If we die suddenly from a traumatic death and our families in spirit can’t arrive fast enough, guess who will reach us first to help? Our guides. And no matter how many lives we live, throughout many different families, there will always be that group of Light Beings who know us unconditionally and that one familiar Being who we always recognize each time…that’s right, our spirit guide.

The love between us and our soul family is incredibly strong, but I have yet to know of a soulmate dedicated enough to have a sort of symbiotic relationship with another person in another world…that’s divine love and dedication to the fullest.

#2 Your Higher Self/Oversoul/God-Self

Believe it or not, we are all energy gods in spirit form. We have many powers: infinite knowledge, teleportation, telepathy, shapeshifting, being in many places at once, and many more. Because of this and our immortality, we are essentially what humans would define as god-like. What is commonly called the Higher Self/Oversoul/Magna Anima/Group Soul or God-Self, is our true spirit form. It is a giant spirit consisting of all the past lives, human and otherwise that we’ve lived. We are always connected to our true forms, in and out of incarnations. Our Oversoul is always in the spirit world but can focus its energy on a certain lifetime on Earth or in other worlds. We incarnate to learn, love, have fun and experience. It doesn’t matter how many lives or personas we have, it’s the quality of the lives. Even the bad short lives are still beneficial life experiences for the Oversoul.

Our Oversoul has many personas that are all us. Fragments of our soul in our body are passed down from other lives, thus with “spirit genetics” we get traits from our other selves (like how we get traits from our ancestors), and sometimes past life memories as accounted in past-life regressions. Contrary to common belief, it is not one new soul each time, just like how we are not free from our parent’s genetics and traits.) Parts of our current soul could have come from an evil solider in Rome, a Victorian fashion designer, a peasant, an African tribal member, a businessman, a farmer, a dog, a tree, and an alien…the possibilities are endless. You are your current life that never loses your personality, but you are also the personalities of all your other selves together.

You are already perfect with infinite knowledge when in Oversoul form despite former Earthly flaws. (It’s like how some days in your life are good, other days not good, how some moments in infancy, childhood, teen, adult, and old age were different but all are you.) Although we have infinite knowledge as an Oversoul, we have to disconnect to our regular non-infinite knowledge individual personas when communicating with loved ones on Earth because the Oversoul’s power is too great for the mind to comprehend. (Plus giving people on Earth infinite knowledge would be cheating!) Souls and Oversouls in the spirit world can merge with each other and become the other soul through memories.

You are always connected to your Oversoul, and when you die after your Life Review, you regain past life memories and reconnect with your true self. The past life selves instinctively reach onto the incoming soul with tendrils of energy, imparting memories, love, and knowledge. The last thing you see before remerging with your Oversoul is a projection of your own face radiating unconditional love at you that you never experienced on Earth…self-love to the next level! Your soul reconnects to your Oversoul and you are fully a citizen of the other side. Like the sperm that reaches the egg, only your soul can enter into your Oversoul form…no one else. Your soul and the souls of your past life personas all have a unique soul vibration signature that identifies it as your own. For each new life, you as the Oversoul and your guides pick from your personas the lessons you’ll learn on Earth. Your past lives live through you, and are a part of you. As an Oversoul, you can interact with all your lifetime families at once from every era of time. No one in existence loves you and understands you like your own self and your other past/future life personas, especially in spirit form when you know who you really are.

But that’s where you’re kind of wrong again.

#1 God/Source/Universal Intelligence

Meet God, the Source, the Universal Intelligence, Braham, Allah, Jesus, Atum, Tao, however we name our creator, it’s the same entity. God-Source is the genderless white light eternal energy that created everything. God-Source is all there is. God-Source loves everyone and lives through everyone. God-Source loves everyone unconditionally, even the worst people. God-Source loves everyone 100% of the time at 100% power…no judgment, no agenda…God-Source loves us just because we exist!

God-Source wants us to be happy and to live the best we can, but knows that any mistakes we make are just learning processes for our evolution. We are all equal loving divine souls in God-Source’s infinite “eyes” and God-Source knows all of us will succeed in enlightenment and kindness at our own paces…it is infinity after all! (Yes, God-Source loves Hitler and bugs and trees just the same as everyone and everything else. God-Source always evolves with us, the only one who makes no mistakes.) There is no rush to try to evolve in a hierarchy and merge with God-Source because we are already one! God-Source is us and we are God-Source. Even ascended masters who are supposedly “closer to God” make mistakes and don’t fully understand God-Source. God-Source knows us completely, more than our own selves and families over the eons. Take all the love from your soul families and everyone in the world and yourself, everyone and everything you’ve ever known…and that is only a fragment of the infinite oceanic love we get from God-Source. Just ask anyone who’s had near-Death Experiences and you likely hear stories of them being embraced in God’s light and love. God-Source’s light heals our souls after death, grants us our powers and identities, and allows us to be immortal and love and learn forever. God’s love is always perfect…we have to experience it to know it.

#spiritulality

0 notes

hornime · 4 years

Text

watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!

in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?

he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.

[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?

[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.

[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?

[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this

[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata

iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?

[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...

[06:45 AM] hinata: YES

[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question

[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto

[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this

[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too

[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up

[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum

he chuckled in disbelief.

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??

[06:47 AM] miya: NO

[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO

[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think

he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.

[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable

[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^

[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it

[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too

[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out

[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb

[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.

[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out

[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least

iwaizumi sighed.

[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman

to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.

you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.

“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.

“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”

you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”

at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”

after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”

“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”

“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”

“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”

you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”

and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.

practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere.

you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.

“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”

he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”

he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”

you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched.

you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.”

his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”

hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.

“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements.

“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.”

he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”

he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”

he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”

“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”

“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.

“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”

“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”

“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.

iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”

they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.

"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.

“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”

“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.

“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”

they nodded simultaneously.

“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”

suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”

hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”

iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”

his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”

“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.

“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”

you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”

your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.

a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.

“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix.

“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”

“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.

“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.

“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.”

their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs.

“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”

“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”

“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”

“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”

he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.

your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.

“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.

“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”

“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.

iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”

you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”

iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.

your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”

you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.

he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist.

he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”

#kinky.inky #haikyū!!#haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #atsumu smut #hinata smut #bokuto smut #suna smut #sakusa smut #iwaizumi #sakusa #bokuto #hinata #suna #atsumu

4K notes · View notes

cherryusa · 2 years

Photo

Welcome back to hell, Sonny Logan. Hope you’re ready to pay for your sins! xoxo

THE RUNAWAY:

Emerson Lee “Sonny” Logan. OWEN TEAGUE, PLAYED BY COCO, 24, EST.

“WHERE DO YOU SPEND MOST OF YOUR FREE TIME AROUND HERE NOW THAT HALF THE TOWN IS BURNED DOWN? I’M TOTALLY LOOKING FOR A NEW SPOT TO HANG.”

“Alright. So there’s this itsy-bitsy piece of beach I found in the sixth grade, when I swam out way too far and got lost, and washed up on this shore that was like, just big enough for a few people to camp out there without the tideline becoming an issue. I kept going back there, ‘cus I thought it was cool. You can find it if you swim past the buoys and then go out like twenty minutes north-west of the docks. It’s the best place to watch the sunset and get a long look at the boats coming to and from the harbor. Every time I brought a friend out there, I’d have ’em help me come up with stories about like, where they were going and how their lives were gonna change when they got out of Cherry.

“That turned into my place, man. That was where I daydreamed about the future and stuff. Going into seventh grade, I arranged a bunch of big rocks into a Jolly Roger and started calling it Captain’s Cove. That was where I’d bring a friend if one of us had to tell the other guy a secret or needed to feel like we were away from our tacky little neighborhood without actually having to skip town. That was where I held a girl’s hand for the first time. And it was where I hid stuff I didn’t want my mom to see when she was snooping through my room.”

Like those magazines that he got from that ninth grader, in exchange for letting him see Sabrina’s underwear drawer that one time. The magazines did, tragically, get waterlogged on the swim over, so it was all kind of a waste, but he figured he probably deserved that. He took that one on the chin, confessed and apologized to his sister, and learned that he was going to have to bring luggage, sleeping bags, and paraphernalia over on a raft if he didn’t want it getting damaged on the trip.

Incidentally, Captain’s Cove was also where he buried his most secret “pirated treasure.” He never thought any of his friends would find the Freeses’ money in the crack between rocks that you had to climb halfway up the cliff to get to. But he’s got a hunch that whoever sent him Lux’s letter must have stumbled upon it.

“It was where I had my first beer, and where I ralphed for the first time. Me and a buddy of mine brought a twelve pack of Red Dogs there on a boogie board and drank the whole fuckin’ thing between the two of us.”

It was a six-pack. At 90 lbs., and thirteen years of age, and very little to eat that day since his mom accidentally sent him to school with Sabrina’s unappetizingly healthy lunch, he chugged two and a half beers before he got a tummy ache. But to match Sonny’s mouth of a sailor, he also shared their tendency to spin tall tales to land-lovers at a portside pub, stretching the truth in the interest of telling a better story.

“Haven’t been there since I came back to town, but I still know how to get there, if you want to check it out sometime.” He hasn’t been there, because it was also where he buried a time capsule that he badgered all of his friends to contribute to on their middle school graduation, and he wasn’t ready for the temptation to dig it up.

“WOULD YOU, LIKE, CALL YOURSELF POPULAR? BECAUSE YOU KNOW, CHERRY CAN BE A TOTAL POPULARITY CONTEST SOMETIMES.”

His mood doesn’t dull as quickly as it should. He really hit his stride in San Francisco; he’s gotten more confident and is used to having friends without much baggage (albeit without much depth, either, despite the enlightened new age posturing). It takes a minute for him to realize he’s not among his metropolitan bohemians anymore. But he’s not that alone around here, is he? He has his sisters, but… Well, alright, maybe that bridge is burned, big time, and its ashes fell into the sea and drifted far away, long ago. But what about— Hm, no, yeah, Cris openly wants to mount his head on a pike and tout it around like a picket sign at his next protest performance art piece against recreational hunting. And sure, he’s using Mac, but that doesn’t really count, right? Since Mac doesn’t know it? Yes? No? Okay, what about Zahra? She doesn’t look up from her nail file whenever they’re in the same room together, but she’s not actively hostile. Doesn’t that count for something? …Oh, don’t look at him like that. In a pinch, if he’s really desperate, he can always beg… Ah, nope, Virginia’s in jail. Nuts.

“I mean…” He pauses, and loses control over the urge to shake his leg up and down, suddenly antsy with this conversation. He agreed to this interview because Clarissa was a middle school crush and he was excited to see her again, but suddenly she had him regretting it. “Nobody likes a guy who calls himself popular.”

He holds off the urge to slouch into himself, and shifts positions to get comfortable again.

“Think about the people who get called popular around here, anyway. It’s never anybody, like, genuinely cool. Being popular in Cherry doesn’t mean being fun to hang out with. It means being rich and powerful and not having any weird or interesting personality traits that could plausibly leave you open to get picked on. I mean, does anyone really like spending time with Kitty Maddox or Elaine Archer?”

There’s a casual omission of one Zahra Jackson from this discussion. He’d never admit that he’d hang out with her again in a heartbeat if she could leave her Lux-isms and foul friends behind.

“If you mean popular in the non-Cherry sense, like, as in, you’re just the kind of person a lot of people want to have a beer with… I think I still have those Red Dog bottle caps to prove that I’m that kinda guy. Like, there’s, uh… Just for one example, there’s that guy Ted who’s always trying to hang out with me.” It’s the one example he has. “I can ditch him today, though. If you want to get some beers after this. Gimme the scoop on that, April O’Neil.”

“YOU CAN BE HONEST WITH ME… WHO DO YOU THINK MURDERED LUX?”

“Jeez, morbid much? When did this town go from Baywatch to Twin Peaks?” He exhales, and his smile gets weak before he can look back up at her again. “Alright, wanna know what I think? Honestly?”

He knows one thing: it wasn’t Libby. And his brain will do whatever Zahra Jackson-tier gymnastics it has to to find a reason why anybody and everybody else could have done it. (How do people suspect Libby when there are three Russell brothers right there?) Sonny’s main focus is Elaine, and not because his sister has always hated her, and, deep down, he always kind of felt like she stole Zahra from him. That’s all ancient history, and he doesn’t care anymore. In fact, he just decided he completely forgot about that. No, he doesn’t even remember why he knows how underhanded, power-hungry, and status-mongering she is. But that conniving personality of hers probably points to a she-devil who would want to usurp Lux by any means necessary. She’s just a sociopathic black hole that ruins everything, speaking in terms perfectly objective and unbiased.

He’s not so sure what to make of Zev, either. It’s always the quiet ones, right? Zevvy did seem kind of obsessed with Lux, didn’t? Sonny would never forget that one time he spotted Zev taping Lux fixing her annoying hair when Miss Maddie Wilson was three feet away, rapping along to “It’s Tricky,” word for word.

Maybe Zev was devastated because Lux started dating some jock like Parker Pantone. It could have driven his sensitive artist heart to madness, and maybe he——

No, no. This sucks. Sonny doesn’t really think that. He doesn’t know who to suspect, yet, but he’s not gonna have an epiphany here. He certainly shouldn’t give any tips to a cop’s daughter — no matter how adorable — just in case she accidentally lets something slip that could get any of Sonny’s old pals in trouble. He has to be careful here. For once in his life, he has to think before he says something stupid or makes any bold moves. He has to change the topic.

He leans forward, and utters with the intensity of Astrid Van Allen telling him about the immense spiritual connection between twins and their responsibility to look out for each other:

“I think it was you, Clarissa Teller.”

And just like that, all of the anticipation leaves the room like the long fart of a deflating balloon. Our punk-ass hero continues, “You did it all to get a dynamite story for your paper. You knew no one would suspect you with that button nose. But you’re in luck. I’m the one guy who knows how to leave this place and never be found. You know the only reason I came back? It was for you. I came to bail you out. Let’s blow this pop stand, baby. We set sail from Captain’s Cove at dawn.”

THE CONNECTIONS

THE ACTIVIST.

“Cristiano, man. That… that was the coolest friend I ever had. Like, we used to sit in the back of class and just play that Exquisite Corpse game back and forth, and some of the stuff he made blew my fucking mind. Even his tag looked sick. I remember making him carve it into the bottom of my nightstand back at my mom’s place, because I knew she would never find it until I was long gone, but I wanted him to leave his mark on her stuffy fuckin’ house. But, I don’t even mean like, he’s just cool in the ‘talented and interesting’ way. I remember the last great day I had in Cherry was with him. Frankie was kinda upset, ’cus she had, uh, somethin’ going on, with her family, um, financially… So we had to cheer her up and snuck her in to see a screening of fuckin’… Dumb and Dumber, and I just remember leaning over to Cris when the song “New Age Girl” was playing and being like, dude, they wrote this song about you. And just… even after Frank went home to be with her folks, I was still trying to hold his hand and call him my new age girl. And he’s swatting me away and being like, ‘dude, that movie was the stupidest piece of crap I’ve ever seen in my life,’ of course. He’s like, ‘we could be making movies about the Iraq disarmament crisis’ or something. But he didn’t say anything like that ’til after Frank left. He let the whole revolutionary intellectual schtick take a backseat so he wouldn’t rain on Frankie seeing a slapstick movie that could lighten up her shitty day. He’s wasn’t just volunteering at food drives and demonstrating against IBM ’cus it made him look good. He really cares about people. Like on a big scale and a small scale. That’s the kind of guy he really is. Or– was. I don’t… really know what’s up with him now. It’s like, all that empathy for those endangered lizards in Australia, but he can’t understand that maybe his friend was going through some stuff and didn’t want anyone to talk him out of taking a risk that would save his fucking sanity? Maybe all that talent got to his head. Like, he got high on his own supply and now he can only think about himself and it’s ruined his ability to reflect right on anything else. …He’s not even that good, honestly, now that I think about it.”

And yet, he still hasn’t gotten a tattoo on his body, because he always has and always will want Cristiano to design his first one. It’s the only impulsive decision he’s ever held out on making, despite multiple opportunities in San Francisco.

THE BITCH.

“I would be totally unrecognizable if I never met Zahra. She was always so tough and ballsy as a kid. She just like… refused to let anybody control her or talk down to her, and she made me decide I wanted to be a free agent, too. I woulda been Glenda’s meek little gentleman if I didn’t see the way she chewed that one ginger kid out for saying she was too tall for a girl. “It sucks that she wound up spending more and more time with that catty cheerleader side of the gang. I was kinda hoping she would outgrow them, but I guess even Zahra Jackson wasn’t strong enough to withstand the gravitational pull of Elaine’s big head.

“I always thought it was a drag when she would bring them along to hang out. Not even because they were prissy and boring, but they just felt so…” So much like his frigid mother.

“…So snide and snooty. And it sucked to see that rub off on her. ’Cus she always had that snappy lawyer brain and she definitely had what it took to play their game better than any of them if she wanted to, I just hoped she wouldn’t, y’know, want to. It was like, the more she hung out with them, the more it felt like she was using that Jackson moxie less to stand up for herself, and more to put other people below her. I don’t think that woulda happened if she stayed closer with, like, Zev and Frankie and Rocky or anybody more down-to-earth. I always thought it’d be cool if her and Libby buddied up, y’know, ’cus then her independence could’a rubbed off on Libs, too. But instead she took to those snobs like Alice and Lux, and now Libby’s always gonna associate assertiveness with the American Psychos who made her life hell, and she’s always gonna see people like Sabrina getting rewarded by Glenda for being a boring little angel who fell in line.” And maybe there’s some truth to that, that he’s trying to avoid. After all, he looked out for himself instead of following Glenda’s rules, and he turned out to be the most reprehensible man in California.

“I dunno. It’s fine, I guess. We basically drifted apart way before I left. I guess I’m happy for her if she’s happy being the don of the pom-pom mafia. Seems like a stressful scene to be in, if you ask me, but I’m over it. Anyway, why’d ya ask? Does she ever talk to you about me? What does she say?”

THE ROMANTIC.

“Man, this fucking bites. How was I supposed to know Mac is the best? We’re talking Sonic Youth every day, man. He knows The Brian Jonestown Massacre and Slint and Mr. Bungle.(*) He’s telling me I should give the drums another shot. He likes so much cool shit. He’s got such a stupid, dorky, nice sense of humor where he doesn’t have to make fun of anybody to crack a joke. He’s so… Lovable? …Dude. I can’t do this.

“It’s like I’m this shitty little kid in a Michael Myers mask I found in the street, and he’s like the nicest widowed old man on the block who’s just so excited some young whippersnappers came to his crazyass neighborhood, and he’s talking to me with this fuckin’ twinkle in his eye about how much he loved trick’r’treating as a kid, and stuff, and suddenly we’re bonding about John Carpenter movies and having a great time, and then finally it’s getting late, and bugs have been getting into his house the whole time I’ve been distracting him, and he finally, finally offers me the candy bowl… And I just yank it from his hands and dump the whole thing into my pillowcase and slam his own door in his face, and then I TP his house and take a big steamy dump on his lawn and skate away. Like, ‘hey man, thanks for the genuine human connection, I got what I came here for and you can shrivel up and die now.’ It’s like, I couldn’t be a phony for my mom’s sake, how am I supposed to be a phony for— alright, I’ll try to be a phony for Libby’s sake. But it’s fucking killing me. It’s like. Am I convincing myself we’re becoming friends for real just ’cus I’m trying to make myself feel less guilty? There’s always gonna be that ulterior motive, you know. And then it’s also like, I dunno… Imagine I throw away my soul to do this whole Glenda Logan fake-nice act and in the end all he has to give me is like… Raisinets. Y’know, just a total waste of a trick-r-treat. What if these letters are just ‘Lux’ telling him that I’m the guy who killed her? And maybe he’s got some faked photos, and he’s trying to investigate me? What if we’re both just schizophrenic, or something? I wish I could just ask outright, but it’s like… Prolonged exposure to this stupid town breaks people’s humanity, man. Everyone turns into a sicko eventually, no matter what. You seriously can’t trust anyone around here.”

Once upon a time, everyone thought that they could trust that upbeat clown Sonny Logan. And in the end, he egged everybody’s house. He knew better than anyone how underhanded a friend could be underneath a goofy, golden-hearted personality.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m going full Flagpole Sitta here. Ignore me. I’m just feeling kinda twitchy and paranoid after this weird conversation I had with Ted yesterday.”

7 notes · View notes

votederpycausemufins · 4 years

Text

Welp, made another thing for @petrichormeraki ‘s Hermit!tommy au. be warned that this is only a part 1 cause i haven’t finished the whole thing and i need to get my computer looked at so i won’t be able to finish it yet but here’s some of it at least

Disclaimers here are that I only know the general idea of Xisuma’s base and that there’s a honey farm somewhere, but I took liberties with how it is for the story. Also, headcanon that I made specifically just because I want it to happen, canon deaths that don’t end up with a ghost make the person lose a piece of their soul until it can’t support them fully anymore. Then that piece ends up somewhere else. Maybe that’s why the compasses work. But more I just want something like what happens in this fic. For the hurt/comfort.

When Tommy first joined the Hermits accidentally, he hated being around Xisuma. Not only was he the admin of the server, the one who held the most power, but for whatever reason, this guy decided to look like a bee. It was worse when Tommy learned he almost changed up to look like a Strider, but then just went back to a bee. At the very least it wasn’t easy to run into the guy.

It was more the problem of his base. The coolest places and the ones Tommy most liked to visit were the ones in the jungle, especially since the old base he was living in was built there. With no elytra, at least not one he used for more than gliding, Tommy got lost when in the more natural parts of the biomes. And when that happened, he tended to accidentally find Xisuma’s base.

So much of it was bee themed that Tommy disliked it. It reminded him too much of what he left behind, but couldn’t get back. Having the compass was as much as Tommy was willing to have to remind him.

But one day Tommy got killed when he wasn’t being careful. He wasn’t too worried about it, especially after a message in his new communicator had a message from a hermit who picked up his stuff and put it in a chest. They didn’t really have the inventory space to bring it to him and we’re busy enough they couldn’t stay, but it was fine. A chest was the standard.

But right now, the problem was getting to the chest. Not only was it somewhere in the jungle, but it was also most of his gear. Tommy didn’t really have many good backups, never wanting something that someone could take, even though he knows the hermits would never do that. Probably. He’s still wary just to be safe. The most he has in storage is some gold armor for when he goes into the nether.

Tommy donned a mixture of gold and worn iron armor and a mostly used sword to get his stuff. He’s sure he knows the way to his gear until he doesn’t. With the monsters tougher than at his old home, Tommy is worried about dying again as the sun starts to set. He rushed through the jungle a bit faster until he ran into it. Xisuma’s base. Tommy was going to pass it by when monsters started to spawn, with him getting really unlucky and one zombie spawning with full enchanted armor.

Not wanting to die, Tommy scrambled his way into Xisuma’s base. He sighed once he was in a safe place, though upset that he would have to spend the night in such a place.

With nothing much better to do other than sitting, which Tommy hated doing, he started to walk around and explore Xisuma’s base. Close up, it was actually okay. The bee theme designs weren’t as prominent, and all the towers and buildings had farms inside them which were fun to watch. The one problem was the honey farm. This one definitely had a lot to do with bees. Tommy was going to just run by it when a bee popped out.

Tommy actually paused at that. Then smiled. Bees only game out during the day, which meant he could leave. He smiled and ran out of there and went outside to see… it was still night?

Now confused, Tommy went back to the bee farm. He was beginning to think maybe he just imagined it, but then he saw the bee still there. He watched as it kept bopping its head against the glass, ignoring the flower with it and not going back in its hive.

Puzzled, Tommy just watched the bee until he heard the noise of someone using a firework. The sound caught Tommy’s attention, and he looked away. When he turned back, the bee was gone. After looking there for a few seconds, Tommy shrugged and started to walk away. But even then, he still kept looking back, so much that he didn’t notice Xisuma until he ran into the man.

Tommy froze up when he saw the admin standing in front of him, but instead of anything Dream might have done or said, Xisuma spoke in a kind voice. “Oh, sorry Tommy, I didn’t see you there. Were you looking for me?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a little bit until he heard the pop of a bee leaving its hive. “Uh, I just got lost and holed up here, cus I died and was trying to get to my stuff and that one guy isn’t around to sleep. Also one of your bees is fuckin’ weird.”

Xisuma scolded the boy for cussing, then offered to help Tommy get to his stuff. He mostly ignored the bee comment until there was the noise of something softly hitting glass again. Xisuma walked over to the farm and Tommy followed.

“See! Isn’t it supposed to not do that?” Tommy asked, to confused by the mob to be scared of Xisuma or want to leave the bee area.

Xisuma nodded slightly, watching the bee’s odd behavior. “Maybe it somehow got linked to another hive or nest and is trying to get there.”

“So what, you’re gonna let it out?” Tommy asked, bristling a little at the idea.

Xisuma nodded again. “It’s probably the only way we could be sure. I can always breed up another if it leaves.”

The admin took out a silk touch pick and broke the glass. The bee flew out and the glass was replaced so the other bees that had not left the hive just yet wouldn't also escape. Instead of the bee trying to fly out of the base, it flew towards Tommy and hovered around him.

Tommy went rigid as the bee flew towards him. He was sure it would keep going, but instead it stuck around him. “What the fuck do you want then?” He asked the mob even though it couldn’t respond. “I don’t have any of those prissy flowers so bug off.”

But the bee didn’t listen. It seemed quite pleased to stick with him. Tommy nearly drew his sword to kill it, but he wasn’t sure he could bring himself to actually his the thing with what it represented to him. Plus Xisuma might get mad and it could break his farm. “Can you just help me get my stuff, maybe it’ll leave once we’re outside.”

Not knowing what else he could say, Xisuma agreed to that. He could tell that something about bees was a sore subject for Tommy. The way he stiffened up around them and also around him. It was part of why he was so surprised to see the boy.

After a bit of walking, Tommy reached the chest of his gear and equipped and stored everything in his inventory. The bee happily bopped up against him and once again Tommy thought about killing it. But instead he just started wandering home, the bee following right behind.

The following day, Xisuma showed up to check on Tommy. While he wasn’t please to see the admin, Tommy at least accepted the gift of a bee hive, especially after his apparent new pet bee would not stop bopping its head against him. Hopefully the hive would give it somewhere to live and it would stop.

Tommy thanked Xisuma for the gift before shoving him out the door, glad for the lack of resistance the admin gave. Then, turning back to the rest of the hobbit hole he moved into, Tommy plopped down the hive right in the middle of the room. “There. Go in there and stop bothering me.”

But the bee didn’t listen, it just kept bopping it’s little fuzzy head against Tommy. Angry now, Tommy grabbed the bee, held it eye level, and looked right into its eyes. “You’re going to stop annoying me and go in that hive, got it?! I’m sick of you flying around me!”

He then let the now trembling mob go and it flew into the new hive. Tommy almost felt regretful about yelling at it. Almost. Grumbling, he went over to his bed to rest now that there wasn’t much to keep him up. Tommy set down his gear nearby, and placed his closed compass on the bed.

With all this bee stuff, Tommy couldn’t help but look at the object. After hesitating for a few moments, he grabbed the item and opened the lid. Inside, the needle danced wildly, not sure how to point with its location in another dimension. Tommy gave a sad sigh and was about to close it again when the needle stopped spinning. It clearly pointed in one direction for a few seconds. Tommy’s eyes widened and he started to turn towards where the needle was trying to guide him, but then it went back to dancing about.

Tommy looked at it confused, before realizing it still might change again. Tubbo may have found a way here. He ran in the direction the needle had been pointing and tripped over the new hive he had placed, cursing as he hit the floor. He looked back up at it to hit it once or something, but the compass has steadied itself again, the needle pointing the other direction, right towards the hive.

#hermitcraft #hermit!tommy au #hermitblr #mcyt #tommyinnit #tubbo #minecraft bees #xisuma #dream smp

461 notes · View notes

howisavedtheworld · 3 years

Text

enough | hanamaki takahiro

genre: heavy angst to fluff, a *lil* bittersweet lmao, timeskip!hanamaki takahiro x fem!reader/gn!reader, established relationship

warnings pls pls read: money problems, cursing littered in a lot of places, mentions of feelings like depression, exhaustion, loneliness, crying, etc., blood mentioned *once* (it’s from a callus, it is nothing extreme but i want to state it explicitly anyways) if there’s anything else brought to my attention ill fix accordingly

a/n: hi!!!! it’s been like two weeks since i’ve posted, i’ve been in a slump, but i’m going to genuinely try to be more consistent and kind to myself abt wat i create! also every thing i’ve ever written on here is ib my personal experiences

heads up tho, i havent read the manga and this is just my dramatized take on his life post-time skip and certain things may be inaccurate

enjoy!

also proofread at 4 am lol

wc: 1385

PLS GIVE THIS FIC A CHANCE ITS NOT ALL SAD I PROMISE

if hanamaki takahiro were to say he’s “tired,” one would deem it a grave understatement.

he’s not just tired.

he’s drained.

for starters, he’s worked three back to back shifts and it was barely reaching wednesday. monday at the deli was tough, considering he spent twelve straight hours packaging and stocking prosciutto and mozzarella sandwiches and arranging bags of kettle-cooked chips by flavor across the aisles of the store.

tuesday was even harder, the double shift at the restaurant hitting his already fatigued body like a brick. it was tiring enough to run around speedily clearing dishes and wiping down tables for six hours but it was absolute overkill to then spend the entire night cleaning the restaurant and prepping it for the morning crew.

6:39 am.

that was when takahiro finally left the restaurant, forcing his sluggish sore limbs to make the trek to the train station for the long ride back home.

in truth, the word “tired” barely even scratched the surface.

but he needed the money.

he needed it badly.

bills were always lingering on the brim of takahiro’s mind: the rent, the light bill, the water, the electricity. it left with him the constant urge to move, to work, to always be on the lookout for his next paycheck.

and of course, this wasn’t the best arrangement nor was it the life he’d hoped for.

of course, regret encompassed him, bound itself to his very being.

he wished he went pro after his glory days at aoba johsai, that he’d tried a little harder to be something. maybe then he’d have the opportunity to play in argentina, to travel the world, or to get signed by a sports brand just for the sake of it.

of course, he always felt a pang of jealousy for the ones that made it big.

even the ones who didn’t.

the ones with stable incomes, who could sustain themselves with only one job, who owned compact sized cars, who could actually save a single dime with hopes of eventually going on vacation.

deep down, he was jealous of them, too.

and he wondered, as he finally stepped foot on the train heading north, feeling the ache in his heels settle, if this would ever feel like enough.

if working two jobs back to back would ever amount to any feeling of satisfaction, if it was okay that he would only ever be remembered as the guy who didn’t go pro, who never got his degree, who was barely getting by.

he really didn’t think so.

because how could it be enough?

how could he have nothing to show for the life he lived?

sometimes, takahiro felt almost as if he was cursed. that life had dealt him the worst of cards just to see him crack underneath the pressure.

a lot of times, he did.

he had his fair share of low moments: the time he found himself shedding tears in the back of the deli, hiding behind loaves of rye bread and cold cuts hoping nobody would catch him.

or the time he bandaged his own bleeding foot by himself at the restaurant because his calluses broke open and everyone else was simply too busy to help.

in these moments, hanamaki felt so alone.

as if the world had forgotten him, had continued to spin on its axis, leaving him alone to figure out its rotation.

in these moments, he really just wanted to run away from it all.

to quit his jobs and just disappear for some time.

but he couldn’t.

because hanamaki takahiro had also learned that in every shitty day or moment, there was a flip side.

there had to be a sliver of hope in the midst of darkness.

7:32 am.

that was when hanamaki got home.

he stood for a moment, fumbling with various receipts and trinkets in his pocket before he finding his keys and opening the door.

it was quiet.

he could only hear the whirr of the shaky air conditioner and the hum of morning birds outside the bay windows of the living room. he took one step inside, wincing at the ache in his legs and sharp jab of pain up his spine.

locking the door behind him, he slipped off his shoes before the silence was broken.

“baby?” your soft sleepy voice rang through the apartment, making his body jump.

he was sure you’d be sleeping by now.

“hey, babe.” he let out a exhale of relief that you were the source of noise. “sorry if i woke you.”

you sat up from your position laying on the couch, shaking your head incessantly while wiping the grog from your eyes.

“no,” you quickly spoke. “i was waiting for you.”

his heart skipped a beat looking at you, your eyes half-lidded from exhaustion with dark circles underneath them, your hair completely disheveled from your awkward sleeping position on the couch, and you wore his old seijoh jersey that was too large and slipped down your shoulders, the hem falling just above your knees.

you looked at him, offering a soft smile before beckoning him over to you. “work must’ve fucking sucked, c’mere.”

and you were so right.

it was awful.

he took lengthy strides over to you before dropping onto the couch, his head finding its way to your lap.

your fingers instinctively reached to stroke his soft locks and he sighed, leaning into your touch.

“are you hungry?” you murmured. “i made udon earlier. it’s cold now so you’ll have to warm it up.”

he was hungry, desperately so after not having a moment to get even a small snack in at work, but he wanted to stay here for just a little longer, pressed into you, feeling the pads of your fingers against his scalp, smelling your conditioner and listening to the softness of your voice.

he shook his head, and you laughed, knowingly nodding. “okay, you can eat it later.”

“how was work for you?” he questioned, eyes fluttering closed at serenity of the moment.

you hummed, fingers still locked into his hair. “shitty. you know, usual bullshit with customers. but i think with my next paycheck, we’ll make the rent.”

his eyes snapped open to look up at you, and you were staring down at him, an excited smile on your face when you locked eyes.

and takahiro knew you had hopes and dreams, that you wanted to go back to school and get your degree and have a normal job, and eventually buy a house and car, and maybe have kids, but you always said that part wearily, claiming you both should start off the family off with a pet first.

he knew you wanted something different. you’d told him.

but even now, in this moment as he stared up at you, saddened by the fact that the future you hoped for was nowhere in sight, there was no inkling of disappointment in your eyes, no what-if, no questioning of if it was enough.

you looked at him like the life you had was all you’d ever asked for.

as if of course it was enough.

before he knew it, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

your eyes widened and you moved a hand to his cheek, wiping the tear away.

“i love you.” he stated, a few more lone tears sliding down his face.

your face softened before you squeezed his cheek with your hand.

“hey.” you beckoned him to sit up.

he followed, sitting up to face your frame on the couch. “don’t cry ‘cus we made the rent. there’s always other bills you can pay. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

and he laughed, nodding while tears spilled over his irises and he watched you through bleary eyes, wipe each one away and pull him into an embrace.

“i love you. you know that, right? i’ll always love you.”

hanamaki takahiro realized that in this lifetime, he doesn’t need a sports deal, or a compact car, or trips to argentina. even if life were to always be this hard, if he was always teetering on the in-between, if this was all the universe had to offer him, that was okay.

because it had granted him you.

and you, alone, were more than enough.

#hanamaki takahiro x reader #hanamaki takahiro fluff #hanamaki takahiro angst #haikyuu! x reader #hanamaki fluff #hanamaki angst #no bc its almost 5 am and im working tmrw

90 notes · View notes

say-al0e · 4 years

Text

Surprise Me

Rating: M | This is smut. No one under 18!

Summary: Santiago has a habit of surprising you. There’s been an underlying tension in your relationship for as long as you’ve known him. His latest surprise is to finally break that tension. But what does that mean for your relationship?

Pairing: Santi x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Quiet music, a departure from the typical mixture of metal that Santiago had a habit of playing, floated through the house as he stood near the sink. His back was to you and you watched, absentmindedly shifting to a more comfortable position, as his shoulders shifted beneath the fabric of his soft grey t-shirt when he wiped his hands on a dish towel. He’d just finished the dishes - alone, despite your weak protests - and was moving to open the bottle of wine you brought when you decided to break the comfortable silence that had settled over you after your meal.

“You know, I kind of expected to see badly hidden takeout containers or, I don’t know, the remnants of a fire when you offered to cook for me.”

Your words were half-teasing, meant to elicit a response more than to insult him, and Santiago took them in stride. He said nothing for a moment, seemingly disregarding the statement as he turned off the kitchen light and crossed the threshold into the living room, but you could clearly see the way his lips lifted at the corners the closer he got to you.

“Despite what you’ve been led to believe,” he began, his words dripping with bemusement, “I am not an entirely helpless bachelor.” He held a glass of wine out to you, a real, soft smile lighting his face when you grinned in thanks, before gesturing for you to lift your legs so that he could sit beside you. “Put ‘em in my lap,” he said, shaking his head when you made a move to sit upright. “I’ve learned to take care of myself over the years and that includes cooking.”

You lifted your legs long enough for Santiago to settle into the cushions before you placed your feet on his lap, as he directed. His free hand immediately drifted to your shin, fingers mindlessly brushing the skin exposed by your shorts, and you fought a shiver at the warmth that radiated from him. You tried not to dwell on it, tried not to think about how nice it felt to have him touch you, and took a sip of your wine to regain your train of thought.

“Santi, I know you can take care of yourself. You run a consulting firm and spent the last twenty-something years chasing down the worst of the worst. I’d be worried if you couldn’t handle your own.” He shot you a look, bemused by the way you chose to interpret on the first half of his sentence, and you grinned at him as you nudged his stomach with your foot. “I just believe you happen to be domestically challenged, that’s all.”

Santiago gripped your ankle, his touch firm but loose enough that you could shake him off if you wanted, and stilled your foot before you could nudge him again. His eyes narrowed, part in warning and part in confusion, as he gently squeezed your ankle. “Domestically challenged? What the fuck does that mean?”

You took another sip of wine, this one to distract you from the way that he was looking at you, before you answered. “It means, I’m completely shocked that you managed to cook an entire meal without burning your neighborhood to the ground.” He laughed at that, unable to help himself, and you grinned in triumph as you pointed your glass at him.

“Come on, Santi! We usually get takeout or go out to eat. This is the first time in the two years I’ve known you that I’ve seen you turn on your stove. I mean, I get it. You spent the majority of your life in the military and the rest of it in private security, working so much you barely had time to grab takeout. Cooking probably wasn’t high on the list of priorities. I’m not shaming you. I’m just saying, it was surprising. Pleasantly surprising, but surprising, nonetheless.”

“Mm, but isn’t that what you love about me?”

Santiago hid his grin behind the rim of his glass as you cut your eyes at him. “You know, I think I could know you for the rest of our lives and you would still find ways to surprise me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You turned your head to face him fully, to really look at him, and did nothing to hide the soft smile that quirked your lips. “I think it’s my favorite thing about you.”

A flash of surprise flickered over Santiago’s face but it was gone just as quickly as it arrived. Had you not been looking at him, cataloguing the way the lamplight fell on his skin and cast soft shadows across his face, you wouldn’t have seen it. You watched the way his lips lifted at the corners, the same barely there smile that he flashed whenever he thought you weren’t really looking, and longed to reach out and brush your fingers across the stubble that lined his jaw.

He remained silent, swallowing any words that threatened to bubble to the surface with a sip of wine, and you swallowed a bitter sting of disappointment as your eyes swept over the grey fabric stretched across his chest before coming to rest at his thighs. You stared at space where your legs rested, skin pressed against the rough denim of his jeans, and took a sip of wine as you fell into the spiral of your thoughts.

Most nights you spent with Santiago ended like this, with soft words that were probably better left unspoken and that often went unacknowledged. It was a game that you’d spent two years playing, one you felt you would both eventually lose, and you didn’t quite understand the rules.

There was, as Frankie once eloquently put it, “a lot of fucking tension,” that bubbled beneath the surface of your friendship with Santiago. Those who didn’t know you assumed you were a couple, or that you were at least sleeping together, while those who did know you placed bets on when it would happen. No one knew why you let it simmer so long, least of all you, but that was just the way things were.

There had been others, partners here and there for both you and Santiago, in the two years that you’d known one another but none of the relationships ever seemed to last. You always found your way back to each other, back to the words uttered under the guise of too much wine or the touches passed off as casual intimacy. You wondered if there would ever be a boiling point, a moment that pushed one of you over the edge toward action, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to believe it could happen.

Santiago didn’t wait when it came to the things he wanted. He wasn’t impulsive but he didn’t believe in wasting time. He was direct, almost to a fault, and you couldn’t see any reason why pursuing you would be any different. He’d never waited for anyone else, never let the tension simmer this long, and that served as all the proof you needed to write it off as nothing more than a fantasy.

You sometimes wondered if you imagined it all, if the wine really was playing tricks on you, but the feeling of his fingers against your skin was seared into your memory. The sound of pretty words, whispered in dark rooms and accompanied by soft smiles, echoed in your ears and you knew that even your most beautiful fantasies couldn’t craft something as real as that.

Nothing beyond a few innocent brushes of hands had ever happened but any time Santiago touched you, your body felt electrified. His touch was excruciating and the feeling of his fingers brushing your skin as he waited for you to return to reality was the tipping point for the evening.

You placed your glass on the coffee table, still half full, and Santiago frowned. Before he could ask what you were doing, you offered him what you hoped would pass for a real smile. “It’s getting late. I should head home.”

Santiago’s eyes flickered from the wine glass to your face, searching for answers to the question he hadn’t yet voiced aloud. You let him look, hopeful that your face looked as neutral as it normally did. Whatever it was that he found, it caused him to place his own wine glass onto the coffee table next to yours before he returned hand to your ankle and gently tugged.

You scooted closer, a confused frown on your lips, and when you were close enough that he could reach you, he moved his hands to your hips. His eyes met yours, his way of asking permission, and you allowed him to haul you onto his lap. When you were settled, your knees on either side of his thighs and hands on his shoulders to hold yourself steady, you blinked in confusion.

One of his hands brushed the skin exposed by your top riding up as the other moved to the back of your neck. If his touch had been excruciating before, this was almost unbearable. You didn’t try to fight the shiver that ran down your spine and you couldn’t find it within yourself to be embarrassed by the goosebumps that prickled in the wake of his touch. Instead, you leaned into his embrace and allowed him to use the hand on the back of your neck to guide your face closer to his.

He stopped, just shy of brushing his lips to yours, and you couldn’t help but ask, “What are you doing?”

You were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your lips and your gaze flickered between them and his eyes. You saw a swirl of emotions, a storm of everything you’d been feeling yourself was reflected back at you, and it stole the breath from your lungs as Santiago offered you a ghost of a smile.

“Surprising you.”

The moment the words left his lips, Santiago closed the gap and pressed his mouth to yours. You froze, your body going still against his as you were effectively taken off guard, before the reality of the moment hit you and you began to melt into his embrace. It was difficult, shutting off your brain and stopping the ‘what-if’s’ from overwhelming you, but you knew Santiago. You trusted him implicitly and decided that was enough for you to enjoy the moment without worrying about what would come next.

You felt every ounce of desire that you’d repressed bubble to the surface as your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks, your fingers brushing the stubble that lined his jaw. Santiago’s hands moved, too, one finding purchase at your hip while the other moved to your back to press you against his chest. You could feel his touch, the warmth of his skin pressed against yours, through the fabric of your shirt and you sighed against his lips as his hand trailed down your back to rest at the top of your thigh.

Santiago used your parted lips to his advantage and took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It was a culmination of every word that had gone unsaid, every question that went unanswered, every touch that lingered just a moment too long. It was the boiling point, the tension that had simmered beneath the surface since the moment you met was no longer something you could ignore, and it felt as if your body was being consumed by the flames of lust as your hands moved to tangle in Santiago’s hair.

Kissing Santiago felt like the answer to every prayer you feared would be better left unsaid. You would’ve been content to remain there for an eternity, chest pressed to his and lips working languidly as you both took your time exploring one another, but Santiago seemed to have other plans as he broke the kiss and moved his attention to the column of your throat.

“Santi…”

“Do you want me to stop?” The words were muffled against your skin, the vibration felt in your chest although you could barely hear him over the beating of your own heart, and you shivered at the warmth of his mouth on your throat.

“Never.”

You felt his lips curl into a smile and knew that was the response he’d been hoping for. It spurred him on and gave him the approval he needed to confidently slide his hands beneath the hem of your top to brush over your bare skin. His touch was certain, steady, but gentle as his calloused hands drifted over the soft skin he found hidden beneath your clothing.

There was no hesitance in his touch, only a reverence that made you lightheaded whenever he whispered words of praise against your skin. He took his time, unhurried and unashamed in his exploration, and you sagged against him, boneless and willing to remain as long as he would have you.

As he littered kisses over the column of your throat, your own hands began to explore. Your hands raked through his hair before you returned them to his cheeks, fingers brushing the graying stubble that felt heavenly brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. Your own exploration was clumsier than his, your hands shook slightly as they moved from his cheeks to his shoulders and over the warm skin of his biceps, but there was no judgement in his eyes as he pulled away from your neck and rested against the cushions to give you a chance to explore as he had.

Santiago’s eyes burned into your skin, lust-blown but swirling with an affection that he’d only ever directed at you, and you ducked your head to press your face into the crook of his neck to hide from his scrutiny. You heard a sharp intake of breath as he prepared to speak but before the words could leave his lips, you shifted and began pressing kisses along his jawline. Whatever he’d been planning to say was lost and, instead, you were rewarded with a soft noise of pleasure.

You quickly abandoned your quest of kissing him, too interested in finally being able to explore Santiago in the way that you’d dreamed of for so long, and turned your gaze to the rise and fall of his chest as your hands moved from his shoulders. You reached the hem of his t-shirt and, instead of following his lead, you tugged the hem up and glanced at him from beneath your lashes in a silent plea for permission to remove it.

Santiago didn’t hesitate to move his hands from your hips and pull his t-shirt up and over his head. When the fabric was gone, tossed into a corner for him to find later, he dropped his hands to brush at your thighs as your hands moved to his chest.

You’d seen Santiago without a shirt before but you’d never felt free to openly stare at the exposed skin. His chest was warm and solid beneath your hands and rose and fell rhythmically as he watched you take in the scars that littered his skin. Some were decades old, memories of a man he could no longer recall being, while others looked almost too fresh.

You refused to let yourself dwell on the pain that Santiago had endured in his lifetime. Instead, you forced yourself to continue exploring his skin and trailed your hands down his chest to the slight trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans. You watched, eyes wide and lips parted, as his stomach flexed under your touch and goosebumps erupted across his skin.

It was dizzying to know that you were able to effect Santiago in the same way that he effected you. You wanted to continue touching him, to discover what reactions you could elicit from him, but he had other plans. As your hands splayed over his stomach, Santiago’s hands drifted to the hem of your top. You removed your hands from his body long enough for him to tug it up and over your head but the moment it was gone, tossed away to join his shirt, your hands returned to his body.

You weren’t sure how long you both stayed there, hands exploring one another and mouths meeting occasionally to share languid kisses but it wasn’t until Santiago shifted and pulled you down in just the right position that you felt his hardened length press against your core. It was as if the slow burn of your desire quickly erupted into an uncontrollable blaze as you stood from his lap and tugged your shorts down your legs. Santiago followed suit, lifting his hips to tug off his jeans and briefs before he pulled you back to his lap.

His hands trailed down your sides, briefly pausing to squeeze your hips, before he slipped a hand between your thighs. His touch was warm, leaving a trail of fire in his wake, and your nails dug into his shoulder as his fingers swiped through your slick folds. His eyes remained on your face, taking in even the slightest of changes, and he seemed to be unable to help himself as he whispered, “You look so beautiful like this.”

“You always look beautiful.” The words caught in your throat, bubbled past your lips in a rasp of pleasure as Santiago pressed a finger into your heat, and the look in Santiago’s eyes softened as your fingers brushed his cheeks once more.

The few times you allowed yourself to indulge in the fantasy, sex with Santiago was nothing short of explosive. It was messy and eager and heated, a clash of teeth and tongue and teasing words. This, the feeling of Santiago taking his time to explore you and dedicate the way you clenched around him when he pressed his finger against a certain spot to memory, was more satisfying than you ever could’ve hoped for.

Santiago took his time to prepare you and you felt every squeeze of his hand on your hip when you made a noise of pleasure. Each time you whispered his name, the word falling from your lips like a prayer, Santiago hummed his own noise of content. You’d never felt something so earth shattering as the orgasm that he coaxed from you with his fingers alone and it stole the breath from your lungs as he helped you ride the final waves.

As your breathing slowed, Santiago moved his hand from your hip to your cheek and made it a point to look you in the eye. He searched your eyes for a moment, his own lust blown gaze reflected back at him, and asked, “Do you want this?”

He was giving you an out, a way for you to walk away before completely falling into his embrace, but you never wanted that. All you wanted was him, in any way he would have you, so you nodded. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Santiago was uncharacteristically quiet. His words seemed to fail him as he brushed his thumb across your skin, his fingers careful and his eyes gleaming with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it didn’t seem to matter when he shifted you on his lap and lined himself up at your entrance.

It was overwhelming, staring Santiago in the eyes as you sank down onto his length, and you felt as if you would never get enough air into your lungs. As Santiago filled you, the world ceased to exist. There was nothing that mattered outside the sound of his breathing, outside of the feeling of his hands on your hips and his cock dragging along your walls. Nothing mattered outside of the way his lips met yours or the way he tensed when you clenched around him.

He gave you a moment to adjust, to sit there and feel him settle in what felt like the pit of your stomach, before he gripped your hips and began to guide you. The pace was unhurried but steady and every thrust seemed to send him deeper inside of you.

Nothing mattered now that you knew what he felt like.

Time seemed to simultaneously stop and move exponentially quicker as you gripped his shoulders. Your nails dug into his skin but he didn’t seem to mind as he helped you keep the rhythm. You knew that you wouldn’t last long, not with the way that he looked at you and the way your name left his lips in a sinful moan, and it only took him whispering, “Cum for me. Need to feel you,” against your mouth for you to fall over the edge once more.

Santiago followed quickly after, his own release hitting him and causing him to still within you, and you remained connected for a long few moments. His arms wound around your waist, pressing you tight against his chest, as his hands brushed the bare skin of your back.

As it always seemed to happen, the words you so desperately wanted to say were left unsaid. You both allowed your breathing to return to normal before you climbed off of his lap and settled against the couch at his side. You ignored the mess between your thighs and the pleasant ache in your limbs as you tried your best to quiet your brain. Santiago’s latest surprise was one you hadn’t seen coming but one that you knew you couldn’t complain about.

You remained in your spot on the couch, blinking sleepily at the wall as you willed yourself not to think too much. You could feel Santiago’s gaze on your face but you weren’t ready to face him yet. You wanted a few moments to bask, to enjoy the aftershocks of your night, and you hoped that he would allow you that indulgence.

Santiago, who knew better than to spend the night on the couch, didn’t bother to redress. He stood from the couch, naked and unashamed, and offered you a hand. When you took it, he gently pulled you from your seat and into his chest. You both remained silent for a moment, taking the time to take one another in, before he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“It’s late.” The words, a nod to your earlier attempt to leave, were whispered against your lips and you could barely hear them over the thundering of your heart in your ears. For a long moment, a terrible second that felt like an eternity, you worried that Santiago might ask you to leave. But your fears were unfounded as he wrapped your hand in his. “We should get some sleep.”

You allowed him to guide you through the house, your body moving on autopilot as he led you down the hall to his bedroom. He pulled back the covers and let you climb in first, waited a moment for you to settle into the sheets, before he followed.

He closed the small gap you left and pulled you back into his chest, strong arms wrapping around your body as his hands ran along your naked back. The gesture was reassuring, grounding, and it told you that the game was over. Though there were words left to be shared, a relationship to be defined, you knew that the game was finally over. Santiago’s latest surprise was a change to the rules and it was one that allowed you both to win.

There was no doubt in your mind that Santiago would continue to surprise you, that he would continue to find ways to keep you on your toes, but you found yourself looking forward to it. You’d told him that you could know him for the rest of your life and he would never cease to surprise you.

How you hoped that would be the case.

________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I haven’t written smut in, like, nine months? And I forgot how to do it. I don’t know how I feel about this. I do know that I’m going to practice with some pwp this weekend so. Look forward to that (and if anyone has any suggestions.... :))

#triple frontier imagine #triple frontier x reader #triple frontier smut #santiago garcia x reader #santiago 'pope' garcia x reader #santiago garcia imagine #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia smut #santiago garcia smut #v's fics

457 notes · View notes

bubblegumbeech · 3 years

Text

Haunted Towers and Hidden Truths

Phic Phight prompt by @lexiepiper

Write a more traditional ghost story. How would things change if ghost powers weren’t super powers, but closer to old horror movie tropes?

“We shouldn’t do this Danny,” Sam said, ever the voice of reason. “This place isn’t like our usual haunts.“

But Danny shook his head, “No Sam, I have to do this. I have to know what that dream meant, if it was really a dream or something else.”

He moved to take a step forward when his other friend, Tucker, grabbed his arm, “I don’t know man, I think she’s right. There isn’t a possessed item to destroy, or an overactive ghost to try and calm down, heck even Vlad has a weakness we can exploit, we don’t know anything about this place. What if we don’t make it out of this one?”

“Come on Tucker,” Danny argued, his own confidence nothing but a mask, “It can’t be as bad as the haunted video game right? You die in the game you die in real life!”

Tucker didn’t laugh, “this is serious Danny, I know that dream had you messed up, but what if it was just that? A dream?”

“Or,” Sam cut in, “What if it’s a trap? Remember how Desiree tried to get us with that monkey’s paw when she realized we were getting involved with every scary story and urban legend in town and she didn’t want us to find out about her?”

There was also the time a ghost discovered Danny’s secret and decided to haunt him personally and make his life a living hell until he and Tucker were able to exorcise it. It had involved a gorilla, a lot of research into dead safari hunters, and one of his parent’s inventions that they rigged to do what they needed before destroying it so it couldn’t be used against Danny himself.

“We made it through all of those things together, remember when we first saw Cujo? And we thought he was to blame for Valerie’s mother?” Danny said.

Sam deflated, “and then we did research and discovered that Cu Sith only foretell death, not cause it… But Danny, we tried to research this place, remember? We found nothing. It’s like it doesn’t exist.”

“Yeah man,” Tucker scratched the back of his neck uncertain, “I couldn’t find so much as a blueprint. No building plans, nothing. The only thing we have to go on are stories from reckless kids trying and failing to spend the night.”

“You don’t have to follow me, the last thing I want is to put you both at risk. Especially after last time.”

Tucker groaned, “Danny you know we aren’t going to let you do this alone right? Especially not after Walker’s prison. Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t come in and save you?”

Danny smiled, “I probably would have starved to death to be fair, but yeah, I’ll try to avoid getting locked in any metal cages, deal?”

“To be fair,” Sam said, returning his smile with one of her own, strained though it was, “you probably would have died of thirst first.”

Chuckling at his friends' attempts to lighten the mood once they realized his mind wouldn’t be changed, Danny finally let himself look up at the place in question. It was a tall, crooked looking clocktower with old, brittle wood and peeling paint. In the low light of the evening it looked almost purple and with the dust and cobwebs covering it, it was clear no one had been inside for quite some time.

The Clocktower was a recurrent presence in his dreams, the ones he’d started having since the accident that made him the way he was: different from any person, but not quite anything else. It was always there in the background, but he’d never gone inside.

Once, during a particularly dull recurring dream where he relived the life and consequent death of a warehouse worker, he’d walked away from the endless piles of boxes and tried to go inside the clocktower instead. But no matter how far he traveled, it was always the same distance away. He just couldn’t get to it.

Danny couldn’t shake the feeling though, that something inside might have the answers he’s been searching for. So he stepped forward, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, of course, and Danny almost felt foolish doing it, but also, ghosts and spiritual beings all had their own rules and perceptions of what is or isn’t polite, most of which Danny had stumbled into learning the hard way, and it really didn’t hurt to check.

“No answer,” Sam said and Danny nodded, turning the handle. It was old and brass and when it turned it made a loud grinding noise that vibrated along his arm. But it did open, and without Danny needing to persuade it, so that had to be a good sign right?

Unless it really was a trap.

“Maybe we should leave someone outside, in case it really is like Walker’s prison.” He offered, but both of his friends shook their heads and stepped past him. It was dark, musty and smelled in a weird way, like a library. If a library had locked its doors and not let anyone enter for a good century or so.

Sam took the lead, her flashlight catching on unfamiliar shapes and shadows. “Do you know what we’re looking for?” she asked, her voice uncertain.

Danny shook his head, “Not really, just… answers.”

They looked around the ground floor at first, but if it held anything particularly supernatural or important, it wasn’t going to be found. “This just looks like my grandma's living room.” Tucker complained, taking the sheet off of one of the couches, “we need to go further in if we want to actually find something.”

He wasn’t wrong, Danny looked over to the spiralling staircase in the back of the room, and then to the other doors that surrounded it on the first floor. “It’s probably better to do this systemically right? Go through every room on each floor and move our way up?”

“You mean like in a video game?” Sam asked, “sure, we can do that.”

They started on the left, but that room wasn’t much better when it came to finding any kind of clues. It held a kitchen, a very old kitchen, with a stove and oven that Danny had only ever seen in period movies. But…

“Why does it smell like cookies?” Danny asked, turning to his friends who both looked at him like he was crazy.

“Cookies? Yo, Danny this place smells like straight up death. Not cookies.” Tucker said, backing away from the oven and starting to open up cabinets.

Sam rolled her eyes and did the same on the other side of the kitchen, “it doesn’t smell like death you dolt, it smells… like a graveyard.”

Danny walked to the middle of the room, towards the oven- he always made sure to be the one seeking out the more dangerous or suspicious things in the haunts they went to- while the two of them bickered. They tended to start these smaller, petty arguments when they were scared, it took the edge off.

“Duh?” Tucker said, and Danny heard him slam one of the cabinets shut, “graveyards are death? What does it smell like to you? Your Mom’s perfume?”

“No, it smells like someone dying, you know all hospital chemicals and gross stuff.”

There wasn’t anything in the oven, but oddly, Danny had felt a wave of warmth when he opened it. Almost like it had just been used. But, ghosts didn’t need to eat, right? And there couldn’t have been a person living here, they’d notice that. At least, Danny hopes they would notice that. After being in dozens of life or death scenarios hinging on whether they noticed important but minute details, they’d become pretty good at that kind of thing.

“Ugh! Don’t talk about hospitals, I’m still not over North Mercy, that was horrible,” Tucker turned to Danny, leaning on one of the counters and ignoring the cabinet he opened right behind his head. “What do you think death smells like Danny?”

Danny walked over and closed the cabinet, he didn’t want something to suddenly appear inside of it all twisted limbs and empty eyes or for something to crawl out and scare them, or even have it slam shut on Tuckers head, like some ghosts were known to do. He didn’t have to put much thought into his answer, “It smells like burnt flesh, electricity, and polished wood.”

Tucker paled, “oh… right. Sorry.”

He shrugged, “anything yet?”

“Not unless you count cobwebs, dust, and deteriorating cooking books,” Sam answered, walking over to both him and Tucker.

Danny looked around at the kitchen, it looked normal, even some dying light shone in from the one window along the outer wall. The only thing weird was the shape and that was because it was at the bottom of a spiralling clocktower. There was nothing particularly scary about the place, and frankly Danny didn’t know what to do with that.

“Let’s move on, this place is giving me the creeps,” Sam said, crossing the room and going to the next door.

Danny and Tucker followed, unwilling to be left behind, or to let her go on her own. The next room was the same size as the other two, but it had an extra window and was crammed absolutely full of books. Just books. Stacks and stacks of them where they didn’t fit on the shelves, which were completely packed themselves, and Danny had the thought that this was probably what he was smelling when they first walked in.

It was a library. A personal one, but without any room to sit or anything to sit on despite the genuinely impressive display of books and Danny found himself gently stroking his hand against the cover of a book on the top of the nearest stack, When Ghosts Speak: Understanding Earthbound Spirits.

“Please tell me we aren’t reading all of this,” Tucker whined. Danny frowned, why wouldn’t he want to read these? It was a treasure trove of information, these books could have countless, researched, answers to questions they’ve been asking since the start of everything!

What if one of these books could tell them why Amity Park seemed to attract the supernatural, why they seemed to gain power within the city’s boundaries, why Danny wasn’t dead. He wanted nothing more than to grab any one of these books, walk into the next room, with the couches and comfortable chairs, sit down and read and read until he found something, anything he could use.

These books might even be able to help him deal with the supernatural threats that plagued their town. Mostly they’ve been surviving through luck and half baked internet searches with the occasional trip to the town library. And while it had been enough so far, Danny was practically salivating at the thought of being properly, genuinely prepared for something for once.

“Of course we aren’t,” Sam said, dragging Danny out of his fantasies of maybe knowing what he was doing, “they’re completely deteriorated. If we even tried to open one it would probably fall apart.”

Danny frowned, and then looked down at the book he’d subconsciously grabbed. It didn’t seem as bad as Sam was describing, but he also didn’t want to risk it either. He’d realized early on there was a difference between what he was seeing and what was actually real. He set it down gently and looked around the rest of the room with his friends.

“Are we so sure this place is haunted?” Danny asked. By then, the sun had set entirely and the only light left was their flashlights. High powered and with fresh batteries they were still little use against the encroaching dark and Danny wanted to move on to the next floor already if he wasn’t going to be able to open a book.

Tucker stood up from behind a precariously leaning shelf and dusted himself off, “Dude you’re the one that said there was something here and we needed to investigate. Remember, like an hour ago when the two of us were trying to stop you from going inside?”

Danny scoffed, “that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean then?” Sam asked, stepping closer so she could meet his eyes. There was something in her expression, curiosity or suspicion, Danny couldn’t quite parse.

“I…” Danny stopped to think, what did he mean? Was it just that the place didn’t feel haunted? There wasn’t anything here trying to scare him away, no ominous winds or loud knocking, but they’ve gone into haunts before that took a long time to start actually reacting to them. “There’s no, I don’t know how to explain it. Usually when we go somewhere haunted, that a ghost has a claim to or whatever… there’s this feeling that I’m trespassing? I don’t feel like I’m trespassing here.”

That probably didn’t make any sense, and despite everything they didn’t usually act on Danny’s gut instincts as a group without evidence. The issue with the circus and it’s terrifying owner was a lesson too well learned after all.

True to expectations neither Sam nor Tucker looked convinced. They shared a quick ‘what now’ look between each other and Danny resisted taking a step back and sinking into the wall. Not that he could do that, as far as he knew he couldn’t do that. Only actual ghosts could do something like that and despite everything Danny was still human- well, still had a physical form.

Permanently.

“Let’s move on upstairs,” Sam reasoned, “if Danny’s right there won’t be any harm in it, and if he’s not we’ll find out once whatever’s here starts actually reacting to us, right?”

Perfectly reasonable and logicked as always. Danny nodded and walked to the next door, if he was right it would lead into the room they had first entered with the staircase that twisted and climbed higher and higher into the heart of the tower. That was the next place to go. He knew that.

Tucker gently patted his shoulder as they walked towards the base of the stairs, “yeah, maybe the ghost doesn’t consider this bottom part his haunt? Maybe he just likes the clock on top?”

Danny smiled, “like the hunchback of Notre Dame?”

Smiling back, Tucker nodded, “exactly! Oh man, we gotta find out if that guy is real one of these days.”

“We have our hands a bit tied with Amity Park without going after disney characters,” Sam said, pushing the two of them from behind so they’d actually go up the stairs. “Now let's get a move on, I want to be back home before breakfast so my parents don’t realize I snuck out again.”

There was something Danny could say but he bit back the comment about how at least her parents would notice and quickly walked up the stairs instead. As soon as his feet touched the first step a bubbly feeling lifted in his chest, and it made him want to go higher as fast as he could there was someone up there waiting for him-

“Danny!” Sam called out, grabbing him by the arm, “calm down!”

Her grip on his arm was tight and Danny looked down to see what had her panicked only to find his feet had left the stairs entirely and he’d started floating upwards instead of walking. Like a human. Like his friends. Like what he was supposed to be.

He swallowed and let himself sink back down, forcing the feeling in his chest back as much as he could. It was like trying to kill the fizz in a shaken soda by screwing a cap back on it and he struggled with it for a moment. He’d never felt like this before- sure, most ghosts and other supernatural entities tended to broadcast emotions to a higher degree than humans, and with them also being natural empaths and Danny’s unfortunate situation it often led to him being overtaken by emotions that weren’t necessarily his own.

It’s just, they’ve never been this overwhelmingly positive before.

Even with Vlad, as human as he was, his emotions were always tinted with obsession and desperation. His need to have Danny and his mother for his own colored every interaction he’d had with the man and it often left a bitter, strained feeling in his chest. Right now, Danny felt almost giddy. And he wasn’t even sure it wasn’t just his own emotions, reacting to the environment around him. It was a nice environment after all.

But Danny was good at ignoring things like that.

“My bad. I’ll try and keep my feet on the ground from now on.”

Sam looked conflicted, “Danny you know we don’t mind you using your powers,” Danny nodded, they’d told him so many times over and over again, “But we don’t want to lose you to them. You promised to stay with us, remember?”

Danny smiled, “I remember. I won’t end up like that, I promised. That’s why we’re here right? To stop it?”

Sam nodded and let him go.

The second floor was similar to the first, in that it had three rooms leading into each other with the spiral staircase in the center. Danny started with the door on the right. It was a study. There was a desk, paperwork, and a bottle of ink with a quill and Danny found himself wondering just how old this clocktower really was. And how long it had been since its occupant was truly here, alive, if ever.

They split up and started looking around, eagerness exposed in their movements. This was the most likely place to have something useful, especially if whoever spent their time here was as studious as the lower floor suggested. Danny went for the desk.

There was a note on it, in perfect, looped handwriting and the ink was still glistening, fresh from the bottle if the smell had anything to say about it. Danny ran his hand across the words hoping to smudge it, but it had dried already, if barely.

It’s nice to meet you, little anomaly.

Danny grit his teeth.

“Guys,” he called out, holding the paper, “It knows we’re here.”

Sam and Tucker rushed over, and Sam grabbed the paper from his hand to read for herself. “Little anomaly? Isn't that kind of insensitive?”

“Yeah,” Tucker agreed, “you just have weird ghost powers right? Vlad’s the same way it’s not like you’re the only person on the planet like you.”

Hesitant to correct him, Danny bit his tongue. It was true that Vlad was a person who had unfortunately gained the abilities of a ghost, things like floating, making objects move with his mind or using his spirit to control people while he slept safe and sound at home. And he’d gained them in a similar way to Danny as well, trusting the wrong people and delving into things he never fully understood and still didn’t.

It was just … less true for Danny was all.

But he wasn’t going to tell them that, he wasn’t going to tell anyone that. So how did whoever, or whatever this was, know? Or was it just saying things to get under his skin, that was pretty par for the course when it came to ghosts. So why wasn’t it doing anything else? Trying to get them to leave? Was Sam right? Was it really a trap this entire time? What would happen if they went back downstairs and tried the door, would it open?

He grabbed the paper and shoved it into one of his jackets pockets, there was plenty of time to freak out over it later after all. “Let’s keep looking around, there has to be something here that it’s trying to distract us from.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything more useful than there had been downstairs. Just what one would expect from a normal office. What papers he did find had detailed extensive notes, yes. But they were in a language Danny couldn’t read and neither Sam nor Tucker even recognized. It was infuriating!

Almost like whoever was haunting this place, was telling them it had all the answers they wanted but wouldn’t give them any. He just wanted to know how - Danny shook his head. There had to be something. He wouldn’t have been led all the way here, had all those dreams, if there was nothing he could do at all.

He threw one more frustrated look around the office before he threw the stack of papers he’d been digging through on the floor and marched over to the next door. It was unlocked, again, just like all of the others and it only served to increase Danny’s frustration.

“Wait, Danny,” Sam noticed him leaving and quickly followed, the door slammed shut behind them, locking Tucker inside the office.

“No,” he whispered, this was all his fault, he shouldn’t have let this ghost get in his head like this! He never should have let his emotions take him over, he knew better. It led to bad things. Horrible, terrible, things.

There was a loud bang on the door, someone was pounding against it and Danny flinched. Was the actual haunting finally starting? Was everything really just a way to lure them deeper into the tower and away from each other?

“Guys?” he heard Tucker call out from the other side of the door, “did you seriously just leave me behind? Don’t we have like, a rule against that?!”

Danny sighed in relief, it was just Tucker. “Are you okay Tuck? Did anything happen over there when the door shut? Any oozing walls or flying papers-”

There was another thump, probably Tucker banging his head against the door, “I know what to look for Danny I’ve been doing this the exact same amount of time as you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny acquessed. “Just get to the stairs and we’ll meet you there.”

He exchanged a glance with Sam, she was glaring a hole into the side of his head and he felt guilty for being the cause of everything going wrong, again. So he apologized and ignored her exaggerated eye roll when she said he should have known better, because well, he did. But what was he going to do, apologize twice?

The room they were in was a simple one, likely some kind of storage space that he and Sam could dig through for hours on end, but it was more important to get to Tucker than to try and make sure they didn’t miss anything.

Which, in hindsight, was probably exactly why they’d been separated.

A cold breeze tickled at Danny’s hair and he felt himself relax despite it all. It felt nice, the cold, and Danny liked when the haunts they went to leaned towards the chillier side like this. Sometimes, especially if Vlad was involved, it felt like he was walking into an overwarm swamp when he entered a haunt and it made him itchy and uncomfortable the entire time. Vlad never seemed to notice, and his friends complain equally about both, so Danny had mostly kept it to himself.

The entire tower felt nice, cold dry air, the smell of books, ink, and cookies, even the playful, excited feeling that seemed to permeate throughout the tower. Like someone had designed it to appeal in every way to both sides of Danny’s instincts.

It was unnerving.

He followed Sam out of the room and back into the middle where the stairs were, but Tucker wasn’t there.

Sam pulled out her phone, and Danny held his breath as it rang, once, twice, and then a click and Tucker’s familiar, annoyed voice came through the speaker and Danny sighed in relief. “Uh guys? I couldn’t get out the door so I tried to climb out a window, and there was uh, a ladder. So I’m outside right now. Come get me?”

Danny met eyes with Sam and nodded, they headed back down, “we’re coming Tuck,” he said.

“Cool, cool, actually rather than coming to get me, can we just go home? Come back later, like in the day time? How come we never do these things in the daytime?”

“You know that’s not how ghosts work Tucker.” Sam said, bored, as they walked to the front door. Danny felt a tug, something like a hand on his shoulder and turned to see what was behind him. There wasn’t anything there.

He turned back around to see that Sam had already walked outside, and was holding the door open for him, one of her eyebrows raised. Awkwardly, Danny jogged a little, so as to not hold them up too long. But before he could actually walk outside the door slammed shut.

Sam screamed.

“Danny! Are you okay!” Tucker asked, his voice panicked and muffled from the other side of the door.

“I’m fine,” Danny said, gritting his teeth and turning around. The room didn’t look or feel any different. There was nothing screaming at him to get out or anything else malicious. If anything it seemed even cosier than before, and Danny didn’t really know how to react to that.

He looked back at the door. There was a way, no. He couldn’t do that. Danny pinched at the bridge of his nose, the only thing to do, really, was to see who had invited him in. That’s what it was right? Some kind of weird ghostly invite?

“I’m going to go check upstairs,” he called out to his friends before walking back towards the staircase.

They pounded on the door, “Danny don’t you dare go up there without us! Just wait, we’ll find a way in! It’s dangerous alone!”

Ignoring their protests Danny took the stairs two steps at a time, fighting the rising excitement in his chest and firmly planting his feet against the polished wood. There were answers waiting for him, he knew there were. He just had to find them.

The third floor had a bedroom, it was nice, cozy and the bed even looked inviting. Danny didn’t bother to stay long. Whoever it was that called him here wasn’t in this room, nor were they in the next or the one after that. Just two bedrooms and a bathroom on that floor and Danny quickly made his way to the next.

This room was different from the rest. For one there were windows, everywhere, that seemed to play different scenes of different people from all over the world. If Danny strained his ears, he could even hear them speaking different languages. On the other side from the windows was an entire wall of clockwork that chimed and churned as the gears moved, keeping the face of the clock on the outside ticking along in sync with the rest of the world.

When Danny stepped into the room properly the carpet sunk easily underneath his feet and he felt a nice, cold breeze that came from a purple flamed fire housed properly in a fireplace in the middle of the room. He hadn’t even noticed a chimney from outside.

There was a man in front of the fire. He was tall and hooded and he carried an equally tall and gnarled staff in one of his gloved hands. Danny felt himself freeze, he had never seen a ghost this solid before. There was always a little bit of transparency, no matter how powerful, they didn’t have physical forms afterall. Not like Danny.

“Who are you?” he asked. His voice was dry and soft and Danny was thankful when it didn’t crack on his question. How embarrassing would that have been?

The man turned around, his face changing as he did from old and aged to a younger one, closer to his parent’s age, a large jagged scar marking it’s way through one of his eyes and down his cheek. He smiled, “I am Clockwork, Master of time. All that was, All that is, and All that will be. I understand you have many questions for me. I hope to answer them.”

A thousand questions ran rapidly through his mind, why did you call me here? Did you call me here? Why get rid of my friends? What are you and why haven’t I seen anything like you before?

“How do I prevent myself from becoming that.” Danny asked the most pressing question first, desperate. The man-ghost-Clockwork, sighed and gestured for him to sit. There was a comfortable looking couch with an equally comfortable chair across from it and a plate of cookies set on an elegantly carved coffee table between the two.

“That’s easily answered, sit, have a cookie.” Clockwork floated over, crossing his legs and settling into the chair before grabbing a cookie for himself.

Danny glanced at them, uncertain, before taking a seat. The couch was even more comfortable than it looked and he found himself sinking back into it, confused. The room was a nice, cold, temperature as well, despite the fire clearly burning in the fireplace.

He grabbed one of the cookies, “can I eat these?” he asked, looking over at his host.

“Of course,” Clockwork smiled, taking a bite of his own before leaning back, “I made them for you. Though your friends would have to be more careful, I’m not sure what food like this would do to a human.”

“I am human,” Danny argued, placing the cookie back on its plate. He had to, denial was all he had left at this point.

Clockwork frowned, “yes, well, I suppose we’ll get there next. You wanted to know about your dreams.”

Finally, Danny nodded, “they’re different ever since- uh well… ever since the incident.”

“It’s natural to not want to talk about one’s death,” Clockwork said, he leaned forward and tilted his head, “or one’s birth.”

“My dreams,” Danny asked, avoiding that conversation with all the grace of a blind hippo, “why are they different. You know right?”

Sighing, Clockwork nodded and leaned back, “yes, I know everything. They’re different, frankly, because they’re dreams. It’s unsettling to you because it’s new, you’ve never dreamed before.”

Danny scowled, “that doesn’t make any sense, I had plenty of dreams when-”

Clockwork interrupted him, disappointment plain under his hood, “You can lie to your friends Daniel, but I already know the truth. Just as you do.”

“I was astral projecting. Like what Vlad does… but then why-?” Danny bit his tongue. He couldn’t say it, not outloud. It was too difficult, he’d spent too long hiding it, pushing it away and doing everything he could to keep anyone from noticing.

“Why can’t you do it anymore?” Clockwork answered for him, Danny nodded. “The simple answer is that you aren’t like Vladimir, despite what he believes and would like you to believe as well. But that’s something else you already know. Ask me a question you don’t have the answers for.”

Danny grabbed another cookie, biting into it fiercely just to have an excuse not to speak. It tasted really good, better than anything he’d had in a while and Danny wondered if maybe there was something in it meant to sate his less human cravings. The thought didn’t help his inner turmoil.

Clockwork smiled softly at him though and sighed, “Fine, in order to answer your question, first I have one of my own.”

“Didn’t you just say you know everything?” Danny mumbled before shoving more cookie in his mouth.

“What good is a teacher that only lectures?” Clockwork said in retort, “do you remember how you died?”

He did, of course he did. “Kinda hard to forget that. Lab accident, electrocution, nothing fancy.” he said, curling in on himself. Clockwork had been right before, it was painful to talk about. But he wanted, no, needed the answers to his questions. He’d survive this.

“Well, that’s where your first mistake lies. Yes, that is what stopped your heart, and likely the most memorable part, but you didn’t die from that Daniel. What killed you came after.”

Danny frowned, “that doesn’t make any sense? What happened after?”

“Your spirit was never particularly bound to your body in the first place, likely due to your parents dabbling where they shouldn’t for as long as they did before you were ever born. There was a summoning, I think you remember, that your parents were holding when your accident happened on the floor below them.”

It was frustrating, that he was right. That he knew it. “I remember them recognizing me, my spirit. I remember them finding my body and shoving me back in. I remember the pain, and waking up and seeing-” Danny choked on the realization. It couldn’t be...

“Seeing the world in your dreams?” Clockwork asked, “the way you saw it when you were a spirit, free from the confines of your body, correct?” He floated over the table, sat next to Danny, and placed a hand on his back. Danny realized he had been shaking.

He grabbed the fabric of his jeans in a tight grip and tried to stop, “It’s all real, right? It isn’t… I’m not still dreaming? Please, I need to know.”

The hand on his back pulled him close, tucked into Clockwork’s side and Danny felt comforted despite himself, he fought to blink away tears that had been building behind his eyes as he tucked himself into Clockwork’s side. He was so solid, unlike any other ghost Danny had ever met and he seemed to radiate comfort where most just gave off fear and hurt.

“You’re not dreaming Daniel, you never were. The world is different when you see it through our eyes, that is all. When you woke up, you weren’t human anymore. Of course you wouldn’t be limited by a human’s sight.”

Danny curled into himself tighter, despair clouding around him and likely leeching unpleasantly into the air. It would be a wonder if Clockwork didn’t feel it. “So I’m a ghost.”

“Hardly,” Clockwork said and Danny stopped breathing, “Do you think the world is so simple it is split between what is ghostly and what is not?”

“I…” Danny had actually assumed that. So far everything they’d dealt with so far, short of Vlad, had either been a ghost or spirit of some kind, or a human that used magic or ghostly artifacts. Even Vlad had simply been a person who had learned how to control his own spirit the way a ghost would. If Danny wasn’t a human, and he wasn’t a ghost, then what was he?

Clockwork ruffled his hair, “I suppose you’re young. It is easier, afterall, to think of it that way. But Daniel, ghosts don’t have physical forms. They can possess one, or control one, and sometimes even mimic one, but they are spirits.”

He sighed, “you are something entirely different. You’re something remarkable.”

Danny leaned back, using the sleeves of his hoodie to quickly dry his tears so he could look Clockwork in the eye, “What am I?”

“You’re new.”

Danny shoved him, “Agghh, I knew that you jerk!” It was probably a bad idea to attack or antagonize someone as clearly powerful and knowledgeable as Clockwork, but really he’d been asking for it. And Danny’s patience was only so strong.

Clockwork didn’t fight him back though, nor did he get offended. Instead he just smiled that soft smile that Danny was starting to realize was affection, and said, “did you? Weren’t you trying to read my books to find out if there was anyone else like you?”

“Well yeah-” Danny stopped, “Oh. There wouldn’t be anything would there? If I’m the first?”

He groaned, that really was just his luck. He’d never figure out anything at this rate. Clockwork, the bastard, just hummed and grabbed another cookie, offering it to him. “No there wouldn’t. But you’re not the only one who was the first or only of their kind. Who had to figure out on their own, who and what they are.”

“You mean Vlad?” Danny asked, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth, wow he really hoped he didn’t mean Vlad.

Clockwork’s smile turned brittle, “I don’t mean Vlad.”

Danny chuckled, his thoughts turning mischievous, “I don’t know, he seems pretty unique, what with all those different abilities he has and the way he can choose to be human or ghost-”

“Oh please,” Clockwork interrupted, “there’s plenty of humans like Vladimir Masters, you were fully capable of astral projecting like that from birth, no black magic necessary. Just because he found a way to twist-”

He stopped, then looked down at Danny who was trying and failing to hold back a shit eating grin. All at once the air seemed to leave him and he deflated, the irritated look on his face replaced with open and honest affection and Danny felt it sing in the air around them.

“You were messing with me.”

“To be fair I didn’t think it would work, all knowing and everything.” Danny said, unable to fight the bubbling feeling in his chest as it rose to meet the affection around them. Usually it sucked having the empathy of a ghost and being near one or at least, something with the same traits. The negative emotions tended to bounce between him and them and amplify and it always made Danny struggle to parse his own emotions from theirs. But right now, in the top of a clock tower with the most powerful entity Danny had ever met, he felt happiness and joy to a degree he’d long forgotten. It was dizzying. He was almost giddy with it.

Clockwork patted him on the head, purposefully messing his hair, “yes well. I think in time, it will be more obvious just how different you truly are, how crucial every small coincidence was that came together that night to create you. But until then, you had another question? I can answer it now.”

Danny frowned as he realized what Clockwork meant, “You! I asked that question first! How did you only answer the one you wanted to!!”

“It was important,” Clockwork said, relaxing into the couch next to Danny, “to answer that question I had to be sure you knew what you were.”

He sputtered, “But I don’t?! I’m just something new! Something different!”

“Something physical that exists with the laws of the spiritual.”

“Yeah!” Danny said, “Wait, what?”

Clockwork nodded his head, “a physical entity that exists within the realms of spiritual possibility. It must be such a struggle, to deal with both sets of instincts like that.”

Danny’s head hurt, it was too much to try and understand the details of all of this. Maybe Tucker was right and he should just have let it be, learn to live with the new normal his life was now. Wasn’t that kind of what Clockwork was suggesting anyways? Then again, unlike Tucker, he did seem to thrive off of all of Danny’s questions, whether he actually answered them or not.

“Yeah, I have to fight my more ghostly instincts all the time. It’s exhausting.” he said, leaning into Clockwork. It should have been embarrassing, seeking comfort like that, but he’d already cried into his shoulder and there wasn’t really any way to come back from that so Danny did as he pleased.

He felt Clockwork’s hand return to his back, a solid comforting presence, “Now why would you do that?”

Danny tilted his head in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Why would you fight against one half of yourself so thoroughly? But embrace the other side entirely?” Clockwork elaborated. “Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences in fighting against your nature?”

“But,” Danny struggled to speak, pieces of the puzzle he’d thought hopeless putting themselves together in ways he had never expected and didn’t quite understand, “my nature is bad.”

Clockwork frowned and turned to look at Danny properly, “Daniel, it’s your nature. There is nothing good or bad about it. It is only as it is. Everything is as it’s meant to be.”

This was too much, Danny sat up fully and turned entirely towards Clockwork, “are you saying, the way I become that thing from my nightmare, is by… doing what I’ve been doing to avoid becoming that thing?!”

“Yes,” Clockwork answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He blinked, the answer really couldn’t be that easy. “But in my dream, I, my instincts-”

Clockwork grabbed a cookie and placed it in his hands, “even humans react poorly, when they starve themselves. As you exist now, you simply need a different kind of sustenance. One you’ve been denying.”

Danny felt dread crawl down the length of his spine, “what kind of sustenance?”

“Spirits exist for reasons, and they exist differently from humans. In order to keep existing they need emotions, experiences, something to keep them held together. A spirit that has no reason to exist will simply disappear, you’ve seen such before it is relatively common after all. But you can’t do that, since you are physical in a way that they are not. You can starve yourself endlessly, into madness even if you’re desperate enough.”

“I do it to myself?” Danny asked, flustered and frustrated. It was true then? He really was his own worst enemy?

Clockwork shook his head, “it is not inevitable Daniel. As you were, it was the most likely path forward. Yes. You would have noticed the symptoms, seen yourself losing control and then, in reaction, suppressed yourself further. Starved yourself further.”

Danny cringed, yeah, that sounded like him. “How do I stop it then? I just embrace what makes me ghostly? What about my parents? If they think they failed the resurrection, that I’m not human anymore, they’ll kill me for real! Or worse!”

“That is indeed troublesome, and the paths of the future where they know your truth are twisted and sharp, every small decision every tiny change causing a greater effect on their reactions as a whole. But you do not need to reveal yourself to your parents to live your truth.”

Relieved, Danny fell back into the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he’d floated off of it, was that good? Bad? He shook his head, this was all too confusing. “How then?” He asked, maybe this time he’d actually get a straight answer.

Clockwork ruffled his hair and stood up, er, well, floated up and over towards the fire. “You continue doing what you’re doing with your friends, protecting your town and interacting with the truth of the world around you. And…” He turned around, “you can come visit me. It’s quite lonely in the clock tower they trapped me in, and there is much I can teach you about becoming. I had to learn such things about myself once after all.”

“You’ll let me come back? To visit you?” Danny didn’t know what to say. He could come visit, ask more questions, get more answers. It seemed too good to be true, and Danny found himself eager and excited at the prospect.

For some reason, the entire conversation, he’d thought this would be a one time thing. That the clocktower would disappear behind him and leave any question he didn’t ask unanswered. To find out that wasn’t the case, that he had somehow, against all odds, made some kind of ghostly ally, was beyond expectations. “You’ll help me?”

The answering smile had Danny floating out of his seat, “Of course Daniel. I’ll even bake cookies.”

#Danny phantom #Clockwork #clockwork dp #Phic Phight #phic phight 21 #sam manson #tucker foley #op #Bee's writing

152 notes · View notes

fragilefangirl · 3 years

Text

Nomad (lost and found, what’s new?)

Read on AO3

When Xialing first ran away, she brought nothing but the things she wore on herself and the rolled up Dance-Dance Revolution carpet, slung on her shoulders.

It was a daring escape, considering their hilltop fortress of a home; there were many guards, many traps, many weapons ready to impale anybody going in or out unauthorized. Xialing spent months just mapping the inner-maze of the house, and some more learning the sewer system, since that was a sure path down below, somewhere with civilizations.

Gege definitely had it easier, she thought to herself as her nose wrinkled due to the smell, knees deep in murky and questionable water, at least he got a free ride out of this godforsaken mountain.

She knew she had to be quick, she had to be agile, she had to be unseen; Baba had eyes everywhere, had ears everywhere, had hands everywhere. Xialing didn’t want anything of hers reaching him.

(She wanted to, once upon a time; yearned for it, when she thought that his eyes could still be filled with brightness and his hands were still warm and his ears would still perk up at her voice. She wanted to be seen, to be heard, to be ruffled by the head the way it used to.

But 6 years passed, and it took Xialing that much time to realize that a dying man could only do so much, so little.)

When she finally reached somewhere that was not a forest, asking for a ride to the city from a passing truck, the driver asked what she could give him, eyeing the carpet on her shoulder. “Is that the 2007 DDR mat for PlayStation 2?” He asked. “I liked to play it in my cousin’s house back then—always wanted to get it.”

Xialing tightened her grip to the binding rope, nodding stiffly. “Yes.” She said, curtly. Then when they arrived at the nearest metropolitan, she unlatched her bracelet—pure gold and adorned with rare, beautiful green jade, one of the things Baba gave her on the birthdays after, in lieu of his affection—and gave it to him. “Sell this to a jeweller.” She said, giving the wide-eyed man the accessory. “The money from it should be enough for you to start a trucking company of your own.” She paused, “and even buy your own mat.”

The driver stuttered, but Xialing had already stepped down from the platform, running into the early dawn, blending herself among the crowd, finally, finally free.

***

“Meimei,”

Xialing looked up to see Gege, face obscured by the shadowy silhouette of the living room as he approached her. “What are you doing?” Asked her brother, tone careful.

She paused from unrolling the DDR mat and setting the TV, looking at Gege like he just asked something stupid. “It’s Saturday, Gege.” She said, matter-of-factly, “Family game night, remember?”

Because they all seemed to forget; Xialing had done this for weeks now, recharging the karaoke mic, setting the dance game, picking a movie. She’d waited on the sofa until she fell asleep and Saturday turned to Sunday and she was moved to her room instead of the sofa, but nobody showed up.

Nobody ever seemed to show up, these days—Gege was always training at some corner of the house since the ungodly hours of the morning until the ungodly hours of the night, and Baba…

…well, Xialing didn’t really know where Baba was.

Gege moved forward, and Xialing could see his face now; bruised, with blue and purple blooming here and there. There was a black circle over his eyes, and his lip was split—he looked like he was one of those fighters in the combat games he used to play in their PlayStation so much, the one he didn’t let her borrow.

She gasped, rising from her seat on the floor and reaching out to him, trying to examine him,

(the way mama used to—)

Xialing blinked, throat suddenly feeling suspiciously dry as her eyes grew suspiciously wet.

“Lingling,” Said Gege as he leaned over to her touch, eyes drooping somberly as he looked at her. “I don’t think we’re going to have family game nights tonight.”

Narrowing her eyes, Xialing frowned. “But it’s cus-to-ma-ry.” She said, struggling to say the last word. “Mama said that means we have to play it every weekend, unless we’re doing something even more fun!”

Gege gave her a pained smile, and tucked her under his right side, wincing a little as he did so. His eyes blinked a bit when Xialing mentioned the word ‘mama’, and his gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where there was a newly-built shrine with lightened incense and fresh tangerines. “A-Ling.” He said instead, tone weary and sad and did her older brother aged more than the years that passed through him? “Let’s just sleep, okay?” He looked down on her, offering her a tired smile. “It’s been a long day.”

For him, Xialing couldn’t help but to think, intrusive thoughts rebutting so quickly she was surprised herself. On her end, days blur to weeks on end, making her feel smaller every single time she wakes up unseen, unheard, unspoken.

“…okay.” She said, after mulling about it in a long silence. “Gege sleeps with me?”

This time, Gege’s smile was a little bit more genuine. “Sure, Meimei.” He said, ruffling her head. “You sleep on my right side, okay? My left side… hurts.” He winced just mentioning it, free hand tracing his torso.

Nodding, Xialing snuggled closer as they walked away from the living room, Gege’s longer hands barely able to reach the lightswitch to turn it off. Xialing herself had to use a chair just to get it every time. He paused as they were finally out in the hallway, turning to slowly close the sliding door.

“Gege.”

“Hm?”

“When…” Xialing hesitated. “When do you think we’ll play at family game night again?”

Her older brother paused, hands still holding the door handles. “…maybe not for a while.” He said, finally, back still facing her.

“Oh.” Xialing’s hopeful face fell. “Okay.”

Gege led her off, away from the living room, but he didn’t shut the sliding door completely, and from the gap Xialing could see mama’s shrine, lightened by the moonlight from the window.

She swore mama’s gaze looked so sad.

(The day after, Baba locked the Living Room.

A week later, they moved into the mountains.)

***

“Aiya, these beggars!”

Xialing arrived at Macau after three days of truck hopping and self-smuggling herself into unbelievable vehicles. It helped that she was on the smaller side and had nothing with her—but it also meant that she arrived with no destination and no place to live.

She arrived at a packed apartment complex in Iau Hon, paying the receptionist with some of the money she acquired from selling another bracelet of hers earlier in the Mainland, only to be told that there were no longer rooms for the night and she had to queue on the waiting list just to get a piss-poor excuse of a housing.

“Give my money back, then!” She protested, face red with anger.

The receptionist counted the bills, unblinking. “Sorry, no refund.”

She growled, “wáng bā dàn.”

The receptionist paused, glaring at Xialing. She knew she could take him out on a fight right then and there if he tested her further. “Careful with your words, now, girl—a child your age shouldn’t be cussing to their kind elders.”

“Fucker,” she muttered under her breath in English as she walked away, out of the complex. It was the last of her cash, too, after a series of expenses involving buying food, paying the smuggler who helped her through immigration, and compensating the truck drivers she rode with openly upfront and hidden on the back. She had to find another pawnshop to trade her remaining jewels if she wanted to acquire more money to survive. But it was nearing midnight, and all of the shops were closed.

So on her first night in, she lumped herself out with people on the back alleys, away from the main streets. There were homeless people there, huddled up together in worn carpets and makeshift tent. Macau was cold at night, and Xialing’s clothes were worn, too thin to block out the wind.

That night, she rolled out the DDR mat and slept on it; curled up like a cat because she was growing taller than the mat’s length, staving away the cold. She put herself at the back corner, near the trash can, so she wouldn’t be seen.

(Because she could not be seen—Xialing told herself that she needed to blend in, to disappear into the crowd, because Baba must be sending men out there, snooping, searching; he must be looking for her, the only child he had left, the last child he let slip through his fingers.

Baba must be looking for her.

Right?)

The tacky design of the mat was her only company, and she fell asleep tracing the arrows—left, left, right, up, down, left again—while humming on a long-forgotten song. She fell asleep trying to remember a warmer night and a warmer night. She fell asleep yearning to wake up to warm laughter.

“Mama, Gege,” she muttered, barely conscious, “Baba.”

The cold wind blew her hair, gentle and mournful.

***

“Mama.” Xialing said, fifteen and sitting at the shrine Baba had built in their new home, head leaning onto the altar. “I hate you so much.”

The smell of jasmine incense surrounded the room, and Xialing buried herself further into her own arms, warm in all the way except what mattered. She knew silence would greet her, and yet still she paused, hoping for some of the magic mama used to tell her back then would come back, would make their family whole again.

“I hate Gege too for leaving.” She said, one eye peeking into the picture of her mother, smiling behind the glass, forever immortalized on paper. “And I hate Baba for—“

She paused, unsure on what word should she use to describe that living husk of a man, more than eager to track down the lowly goons of his enemies but barely willing to look her in the eye during dinner. She shook her head, letting the silence complete the sentence.

“But I hate you for dying the most.” She whispered, a quiet confession. “I hate you because now Gege’s gone, and Baba’s never around, and I feel like—“ she choked up, clutching her chest as she gulped. “I feel like one of these days I’m gonna disappear too, with the way nobody here acknowledges my existence.”

The smoke from the incense danced, and Xialing sobbed, not for the first time and not for the last, a desperate attempt to be acknowledged by someone, by anyone—even the dead.

“Why didn’t you just hide in the room with us?” She asked, voice thick. “Why did you have to fucking fight those goons like a goddamn hero? Why didn’t you—I don’t know—wait for Baba to come home?”

Again, silence greeted her, and Xialing sighed out of frustration. “If you were still here, I’d still go to my old school and actually have friends and—and family game night would still exist.” She chuckled, darkly. “Gege wouldn’t leave me, and,” She said, “Baba would still look at me.”

The way he used to, when they were a heap of exhausted laughter after a particularly hard song to dance at. The way he used to, when Xialing whined because he kept repeating old opera songs none of them knew for the karaoke. The way he used to, when Saturday dinner was served and she and Gege fought over the last piece of guotie.

“My tutors said I should dream big,” She lamented to herself, “But how can I do that when I feel far smaller now than when I was four?”

The silence was suffocating her now, but it was better here than anywhere else in the house.

“Tell me what to do, mama.” She said, voice faltering and tired. “Please tell me what to do.”

The smoke from the incense rose up, up, up, carried by the wind into the windows, drifting away into the night, freed from the five walls surrounding the shrine.

***

Jiang Er-Gege—“Just Jon-Jon, please. Or Mister Manager,” he insisted for the umpteenth time, unrelenting in this clearly losing battle, “and am I not older than your actual brother?” But Xialing is nothing if not stubborn—whistled at her new apartment.

“Sweet!” He said, grinning, hair bobbing around as he turned at Xialing’s direction, who was still unwrapping her hand from the bindings, wincing a bit every once in a while due to the aftermath sting from tonight’s fights. “You got yourself a pretty nice crib, A-Ling!”

“Thanks.” She said, giving him a small smile as she discarded the wrappings to the waste bin and took off her shoes, finally coming in. “Not that bad, isn’t it?”

“For a seventeen-year-old street fighter? Psh. Not bad at all.” Er-Gege waved a hand, his hair—currently blue now, which reminded Xialing of the Sonic the Hedgehog poster hanging at her Gege’s old bedroom door, well, before—flowing and flailing with each of his enthusiastic movements. “Did it come fully furnished?”

“Yes.” She said, throwing herself to the sofa, closing her eyes. Dawn was breaking, and most people would rise from their beds, starting their day—but Xialing wasn’t most people, and all she wanted to do was curl up in her bed and sleep. She was sure that if she insisted on taking a shower, she’d fall asleep under the streaming water, and that would just be wasteful.

(“And we can’t have that, Baobei,” a deep, gentle voice softly told her, as larger hands guided her on how to soap all the wet plates together first. “Water is scarce in many places in the world in this day and age, and we must show our gratitude by not wasting it so easily.” Xialing felt a light pat on her hair, a slight ruffle, “can you do that?”

She nodded, enthusiastic as she scrubbed the grimes a little harder, trying to detach the remnants of oil and spices from the porcelains so that the water would rinse the objects more thoroughly. “Mmhm!” She hummed, offering a bright toothy grin up, “Lingling will do as Ba—“)

“—Ling?”

She snapped awake, blinking rapidly to regain full consciousness. “Sorry, I was pretty out of it.” She said groggily as she straightened herself up—fix your posture, Baobei, don’t slouch—looking at Er-Gege with slowly focusing eyes. “You were saying?”

Er-Gege raised his eyebrows, but he shrugged and waved a hand at the direction of the TV. “That DDR Carpet looks a little… out, compared to your other furnitures.”

Xialing snorted, throwing Er-Gege a ‘tell-me-what-I-don’t-know’ look. “That’s vintage.” She said, cupping her face with her hands, leaning over to the coffee table.

“To whom?”

Sighing in annoyance, Xialing couldn’t help but to feel a little defensive about the old mat; it might be ragged and old, it might be worn and torn at its sides, nibbled by the sneaky rat at Xialing’s old loft, but, “It’s the thing I slept on, my first night here.” She said, “It’s a reminder.”

Er-Gege’s judgy expression softened, as he fully turned at her with his arms crossed. “A reminder?” he echoed, curiously inquiring. There was no malice in his tone, only an invitation to open up in a way that eerily reminded her of Gege, “of what?”

Xialing looked at the worn arrows and recalled laughter; scanned the tacky colors and remembered warmth; eyed the frayed edges and missed three pairs of eyes, looking at her like she was someone, her own person, not a walking remnant of someone else, not a ghost before she even died—

“Of good times.” She smiled, small and bitter and yearning.

Er-Gege nodded, glancing at her one last time before moving on, letting it go. He made a comment about her kitchen counter, how it was too Americanized and needed a revamp, but Xialing was very sleepy, suddenly.

(Baobei—

Meimei—)

She sighed, laying herself to the armrests of the sofa, and closed her eyes, dreaming of nothing.

When she woke up, it was noon, there was a steaming porridge on her coffee table, and there was Er-Gege, fumbling over her TV. “What—” she stretched, cracked her joints. “What time is it?”

Turning at her in surprise, Er-Gege grinned almost immediately. “Look who finally woke up.” He said, tone light and teasing. “I bought the porridge from that Auntie’s restaurant you like so much—go eat it first.”

Xialing straightened herself, gingerly taking her first spoonful, letting the warmth of the meal melt away the weariness in her bones. “Thanks,” she said, smiling at the bowl, feeling like she was truly her age for the first time in a very long while. “And what are you doing to my TV?”

“Oh, this?” he jabbed a finger to the screen, which was displaying the HDMI menu. “I’m plugging in a PS2.” he said, shrugging before he dove again, lifting a black bulku box that looked just like the one they used to have at home. “I got this baby at a second-hand electronic shop, and they apparently sold old DDR game disks!” He grinned, before returning the device and returned to his work, this time to the mat’s underside, seemingly searching for its wirings.

Xialing blinked, spoon suspended mid-way to her mouth, warm meals suddenly forgotten. “...why?” She asked, something simultaneously familiar and foreign slowly easing their way into her chest, squeezing it with something sharp but not painful.

Er-Gege watched her oddly, like she was asking something stupid. “To play, of course.” he said, as if the answer itself was obvious. “This bad boy seemed like it hadn’t been used to its purpose for years, and I’ve never seen you dance before.” He grinned mischievously.

Her throat constricted into something tight and heavy, and Xialing looked further down. “I—” she mumbled, “I don’t really remember how to.”

She heard a snort and looked up, nearly fearfully, to see Er-Gege looking at her with something akin to mirth. “So what? We can always re-learn!” He said, waving a hand at the carpet, “it literally has arrows to tell you where to go; if you can kick people’s ass ordinately, you can definitely play this.” He grinned.

It was true, but something about the familiarity of all this made Xialing feel like she should run away, like she should protect herself because what if she was happy and then it was taken from her again— “I don’t think we should,” she said, voice still so uncharacteristically small and vulnerable and fuck she missed Gege’s uncoordinated legs stepping into her and mama and she missed Baba cheating to win and she missed mama, she missed mama so much it hurt—

“Hey, Xu Xialing,” Er-Gege’s voice snapped her out of her spiral, softer tone breaking her reverie. “You said it reminds you of good times.” he rose from his squat, hand reaching out to touch her hair—always a perfect bob—and ruffle it lightly. “Far as I know, good times should be experienced, not just reminisced.”

She blinked, and for a split second she saw two other faces, grinning at her in a smile she’d yearned to see for so long.

“Okay.” She said, nodding slowly, “Okay.”

They ended up missing the night’s match, and the manager of the ring-fight yelled at Er-Gege for not bringing his best Champion to the arena, but as they laughed late into the night, teasing each other’s stiff moves and calling out their horrible attempts at cheating against each other, Xialing felt like she was home for the first in a very long time.

***

“Baba?”

She peeped at the door, loose hair falling, curtaining over her face. She was eleven now, spending her birthday with an array of nannies and tutors, gifted jewelleries and served the best dishes on an empty dinner table, singing happy birthday to herself.

Baba’s work room was always dark, only luminized by the reading lamps, and sometimes those damned rings. He didn’t look up from his papers, but Xialing had trained herself in reading the miniscule when she realized that she would never be given something visible again, and she saw how his shoulders stiffened, how his eyes blinked rapidly, how his ears perked, slightly.

He said nothing to acknowledge her existence, but he also didn’t shoo her away, so Xialing took what she could get. “It’s my birthday today.” She said, voice small, always feeling small, too small in this big room, this big house, “and I was wondering if—if we could spend it together? Just—” she shrugged, helplessly, already compromising her own wishes if it meant a nod from Baba, an affirmation, anything, “I don’t know, watch a movie or something…”

Her eyes glanced at their new living room behind her, barely inspiring those inside it to live; it was cold and spartan, so unlike the Living Room back Home, where everything was warm and alive. In her old home, everything was strewn haphazardly, dance mats kicked several meters away from the front of the TV and karaoke mics on the couch. Here, the TV was never on, and all the mics and mats and cassettes were locked into the top shelf, the unspoken instructions clear; do not touch. Do not take. Do not open.

Do not Relive.

Baba moved, straightening himself, and in the silence that passed Xialing blinked, letting her hopes go up—

“I’m quite busy right now, Xialing.” He said, tone detached and performative, not even looking up to her as he spoke. “Maybe later.”

Definitely never.

“Oh.” Xialing deflated, looking down, slowly retreating. “Okay.” she whispered, mostly to herself as she pulled the door close once more. “Goodnight, Baba.”

She was replied with only a hum, and she dared not to look up lest she saw him still focused on that damn paper, refusing to look at her, to see her even when it was her birthday because in his eyes she was not A-Ling anymore, not Baobei, not Meimei, just some personification of his fucking dead wife and—

Xialing fell asleep waiting for him on the couch anyway, despite everything, waiting for that later despite knowing that it was a lie.

She woke up in her room, alone, always alone.

It had been like this for a long while, now, but with Gege not returning home and her being the only child he had left in the compound, she had hoped—

Well. she had hoped.

That was her first mistake.

***

“You know, for a compound this big, I thought your dad would have more stuff.” Said Katy as the three of them cleaned up the main house. With Baba cremated and his ashes placed on the same altar as Mama, they only needed to clean his place.

Which apparently didn’t require that much effort, given how little of him existed there.

Somewhere deep within her, she recognized that it was heartbreaking to live like this, but that part was buried layers below anger and pettiness at how that exact way of life had sacrificed her.

“He’s so… spartan.” Commented Gege as he observed the high shelves, trying to find a more personal belonging to salvage. “There’s barely anything here.”

“You can use big words? Shocking.” Replied Xialing, tone flat and sarcastic as she took what she thought was valuable; the Lucky Cat figurine they brought from their old Home, family photos that were pushed into the far back, some sick-looking swords… “I thought the US’ horrible education system had stripped out all of your intelligence.”

“I liked you better when you were smaller and less sarcastic.” Grumbled Gege as he threw her a look. Xialing snorted.

“And I liked you better when you were smaller and not abandoning me,” jabbed Xialing, to which Gege replied by pinching her on her arm, not much to hurt so she knew it was in good nature. “Besides, you only do not like me because I’m cooler than you.”

“Now on that front, she’s definitely right.” Katy piped up, and Gege groaned, grumbling something about all the women in his life ganging up against him. “Face it, Shaun, you’re a little lame compared to the rest of your family.”

“I was laying low!” He protested to Katy, to which Xialing snorted. “And besides, you’re working in the same field as I am, receiving the same pay. If I’m lame, you’re lame too.”

“Oh, I know.” Katy said, not missing a beat. “But my family is a bunch of immigrant workers, not some thousand-year-old warlord and a magical guardian of the mystiques. I have excuses, Shaun—you don’t.”

“I can see why you keep her.” Xialing said, in-between her chuckles. “Keep it up, Jiejie.” She raised a thumb up to Katy with her free hand, and Katy—did Katy blush?

“Okay, back to cleaning up!” Gege’s bellowing voice cut the both of them, only slightly annoyed. “A-Ling, what did you get?” She showed him her reapings, to which ke gestured her to place it on the open suitcase at the couch.

“All these books were dusty, unopened from their wrappings…” Katy said as she scanned the bookshelves, “and is the TV wiring corroded? Shaun, did your father never watch TV?”

Xialing and Gege exchanged glances, shrugging. The image of Baba doing anything fun after mama had died was so … foreign to them. “I guess he’s too consumed by his work.” Gege said, though she knew he doubted his own words as much as she did, for the Ten Rings had barely done anything for the past ten years.

Katy shook her head in disbelief as she scanned more of the cupboards. “Books, jewels, antique swords—what are even these weapons?—oh! Here’s a fun rack!” Her steps stopped, “now there’s more personality; PS2, karaoke mic, a bunch of game discs, and—” she snorted, “A fucking DDR mat? Hey, Shaun, did your dad really play DDR?”

Xialing paused, head turning to Katy abruptly. “A DDR mat?” She echoed, straightening herself and walking to Katy’s side, interest piqued.

“Yeah!” Katy affirmed, pulling the rolled up mat down from the storage, unbinding it with one pull. “Looks old and worn, too.” She snorted, “What I really would give to see your scary dad dancing to this…”

But Xialing wasn’t listening. She felt like everything around her was buzzing.

“...Lingling?” Someone’s hand was on her shoulder, and she snapped, looking up to see Gege looking down on her, frowning as his grip on her tightened. “Meimei, you okay?”

Xialing wanted to say something, anything, because that wasn’t just some mat; she recognized it—had danced to it countless times when she was young, had brought it with her when she ran away, had slept on it on her first night in Macau, had—

“I threw that away.” She said, not quite recognizing her own voice as she reached to the frayed edges. “In Macau, when I moved to a better apartment—I threw that away.”

I had it with me, was unspoken, he wasn’t supposed to—

And suddenly she was reminded on that night in her Club, Baba standing in front of her and Gege, offering them his smile, and she thought she’d been dreaming then, a childish delusion resurfacing after seeing a familiar face for so long, but—

“I always know,” he had smiled, and there was something there, something not quite cold, not the way he usually was after, something akin to the expression Xialing saw at the mirror in the morning when she had a particularly bad day and all she wanted was Baba’s guotie and mama’s soup— “where my children are.”

***

CODA.

Opening her bedroom door with his elbow, Xu Wenwu made soft, careful movements so as to not wake his youngest from his arms.

She was deep in her sleep when he found her sprawled on the couch at the wee hours of midnight, leaning her head on one side of the armchairs. When he lifted her up, she felt like she weighed far lighter than she should have—he frowned, he’d have to talk with the chef about that—and she only grumbled lightly, before snuggling her face to the crook of his neck, seeking comfort.

Gently, he placed her onto the bed, adjusting the pillows and tucking in the blankets. She was eleven years old but she still looked like she was a baby when she was asleep like this—his baby, his Baobei.

Xialing harrumphed when he slowly released her, one hand unconsciously clutching to his white shirt. Wenwu paused, freezing, fearing that he’d got caught.

(Fearing what?

He didn’t know.)

Wenwu let her fingers clutch the fabric until they relaxed on its own, before slowly extricating her grip away from his clothing. He tucked her hand inside the blanket with the rest of her, and swpt her unruly bangs, looking at her face.

Like this, she looked just like Ying Li.

Something caught in his throat, heavy and shuddering, and Wenwu looked away. A thousand years, he thought bitterly, and his undoing is just some little girl’s face.

He shook his head, swallowing the emotions away, letting it be buried deep once more. He knew he had sinned, knew he wronged his children to a fault, but he just—

Not for the first time that night, he wished his wife was still here, telling him what to do, telling him she loved him, telling him how to love.

But she wasn’t, and their daughter was turning eleven, and he was sitting there at the edge of her bed, wishing more than anything for some magic to come and unbreak this broken family the way Ying Li had to his cold, greedy heart all those years ago in the forest.

Xialing—His A-Ling, his Baobei, his child—stirred in her sleep, and Wenwu could see tear tracks on her cheeks, crusty and fading.

He leaned over, forehead to hers, and whispered, softly, “Happy birthday, Baobei.”

Baba is sorry, he thought, hoping the unsaid would reach her anyways, even if he didn’t dare to say it out loud.

The night was clear, the windows closed, but the wind tousled his hair lightly, gentle and mournful.

#shang chi and the ten rings #shang chi #xu shang chi #xu shangqi #xialing #xu xialing #xu wenwu #wenwu #ying li #this movie made me sob two days after i saw it and i'll be DAMNED if i don't do it justice #Xialing deserves better baby!

17 notes · View notes