#when will he drop off the face of the earth and fade into irrelevance

[mariaiscrafting]

That's it. That's the tweet.

[stilfoxglove]

•Chapter 1• World… Forget Me…

A MHA x Wanderer!Reader story

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

First there was nothing within the void, only the biting cold from when the Tsaritsa had turned you into ice. But then there was a drifting feeling, as if you were being pulled through a void, a bright light shone down upon you within the dark and vast void. “A choice Wanderer, stay here and fade away. Or you will have a chance to redeem yourself. Live another life and prove to me that you deserve yet another chance in Teyvat.” The voice echoed with the strength of a thousand words.

You looked around, skeptical of the choice being offered to you.

 “All of my names are water under the bridge to me now. I accept your offer, as it seems that I have no choice.” You reached out towards the light, and white noise was all that could be heard.

As you slowly opened your eyes, you looked around, seeing the world through a tinted amber hue. You are traveling in some sort of Geo pod, shooting down towards the earth like a golden star. As you came close to hitting a roof of a building, the pod opened and you used your Anemo abilities to slow your decent. Though, the pod was not so lucky, as it crashed down into the cement, causing the building to shake.

“Strange… this world looks very different from Teyvat.” You inspect the area around yourself, at the buildings reflecting the afternoon sun. You then look down at your Anemo Vision as it starts glowing and then adjust your hat. 

“I’ve been standing around long enough. The wind rises!” You are then are picked up off the ground as you summon the power of Anemo to grant yourself your Wind Favored State.  As you looked down, you saw that there were humanoid figures, and tiny flashing lights pointed up.

“How annoying.” You huffed as they stepped off the building and descended down to street level. 

The people gasped in shock as you descended down, the flashing lights becoming brighter, apparently coming from black box-like creations. A very strangely dressed and tall woman? pushed her way through the crowd, yelling at you.

“Are you using your Quirk without a license? What’s your Hero name? Where’s your hero agency?” 

The woman had shoved a stick in front of your face as several others were clambering to ask questions. You glowered, annoyed that these people were in your way.

“Tch, My name is irrelevant, get out of my way!”

You then summoned several blades made out of Anemo using your catalyst. The people around you gasped, horrified looks from them. You were about to cast your attack to blow these citizens away when several red feathers pinned you to the building wall, fracturing the glass.

“You know it’s not legal for you to be using your Quirk without a license kid.” The blonde man said with a smile, “You’ve just destroyed the roof of my agency with that giant stone and I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

Who the hell does he think he is and why does he remind you of someone? As you squinted at this man to see who you reminded you of it clicked. Tch, another damned Childe. As soon as you realized that the man was still staring back at you, you then finally decided to speak.

“What? Never seen a person before? Quit your staring, you are worse of an imbecile than a Hydro slime.” You said, annoyed by this man, “I’ve got better things to do than be idle, the daylight’s wasting.”

The man chuckled which only made you scowl. “You’re right, I’ll just drop you off at the nearest police station and have a friend wait with you until I decide what to do with you.” 

“As if!” You huffed, summoning a sphere of Anemo to launch you upwards. “Doing so  will be like catching the wind!”

The blonde man looked surprised as you used a gust of Anemo, his red feathers tearing your clothing during your attempt to flee. Your stamina soon depleted a couple blocks away. You dropped down to the ground, and ran into an alleyway.

“Good, I should be away from prying eyes.” You huffed, “Now, I am in need of a map, and perhaps a change of clothes from the look of the others.” Walking a few blocks, you noticed that the people around you looked vastly different than those in Teyvat, with strange characteristics, some having horns, animal-like features, and some even being made up of inorganic material.

[monst]

Penitence

Vampire! Kirishima x Reader

- An aspiring photographer crosses paths with a melancholic but charismatic vampire.. 

Part 1/? 

WC:869

“I fucked up big time father.”

“...” 

“Father?”

“Do I look like your fucking dad? And, why the hell are you cursing in church shitty hair you know the rules.” He heard his friend scowl from the other side. 

“Good to know age hasn’t changed you much” The heavily covered man laughed. 

“Fuck off.” He heard the blonde huff. “So what’d you do?” 

“...I. I fell in love…”

            It was the third time.. fourth time he had tripped on the uneven cobblestone path. He heaved a sigh, cursing the sun underneath his breath as it assaulted his large frame. The golden orb narrowed down on him with a vengeance, ultraviolet rays reaching out desperate to rid the earth of his unnatural existence. The sight of decorative pillars was his saving grace as he rushed forwards to the shade of the cathedral. Once nestled in the cool shade he removed the white hood that hid wild flame locks. 

“Oi” He caught the bottle before it made contact with his face, a grin stretching his lips when he saw the familiar angry priest. He pocketed the pills and stretched out his pale fist. The older man met his closed fist with his warm one. 

“Long time no see padre, Hey is that a new wrinkle?” He teased. 

“Piss off.” The blonde scowled, a lit cigarette between his lips. He took a drag before looking his friend up and down. “Besides, who are you to talk? The fuck is up with your hair?”

“I thought it looked nice.” The red-head huffed pursing his lips. “Mina’s kid braided it.”

“Of course they did.” Bakugou rolled his eyes. He then pointed towards the bulge in his friend's  pocket. “These are stronger than the last dosage.” 

“Thanks man.” 

“Yeah, whatever. I got to make a house call so see ya later.” The priest shrugged, tossing the butt of the cig on the floor. He watched the blonde stomp out the lit ashes and walk away. He learned against the marble a gasp wobbling through his lips, his stomach bending painfully and he clutched the bottle quickly shoving two pills down, unaware that he was in Bakugou’s line of sight. From behind the window the middle aged man could only grit his teeth in frustration. 

           After a while the agonizing rumbling stopped and he walked into the cathedral. Once inside he caught the eye of the rugged archbishop. Deep dark circles lined tired red rimmed eyes but the curve of the man’s lips wasn’t missed and the vampire waved at Aizawa a full grin consuming his face. Before any conversation could ensue the busy man was called by a worried nun. He didn’t mean to pry but his hearing was exceptional and he caught the flurry of words that escaped her lips. 

“They're losing their effect.” She panicked. “Giyu’s throwing them up! A number of our patients are talking about how-”

           Aizawa stopped her, his eyes narrowing at the surprised red-head. If Kirishima’s heart had been functioning like that of a normal human he knew it’d be beating as fast as sister Anns’. He heard Shouta tell the woman that the temple wasn’t the place for such heavy conversation. Kirishima swallowed thickly when they disappeared around the corner. He was worried.. How much longer till the pills stopped working for him too…

          He sat on one of the various pews watching humans enter and leave for hours. His ears were ringing with repeated prayers of hail mary’s and our fathers. It was only when the brightness of the stained glass dimmed that he stood, His vermillion eyes glowing in the tangerine light of his fading nemesis. He waved to the friar who had kept his gaze on him throughout the day and he stalked off. 

           Kirishima stepped out of his robe once home, he had paced around for hours almost wearing a hole into his floor. He couldn’t stop thinking of what Ann said, of the higher dosage that stared back at him from his kitchen counter, the narrowed eyes of the friar. 

         “Okay that’s enough.” He sighed, he shoved his keys into his pockets and set an alarm for an hour before sunrise. Once outside he made his way towards the city. He covered miles in seconds and soon his ears were bombarded with a multitude of sounds, locals bickering, cars honking and millions of irrelevant conversations. It was loud and distracting; perfect. The man entertained himself by walking around, listening to the thud of various hearts and the swish of warm fresh bl-

His jaw dropped and he rushed to his pockets where he had stashed two more pills before leaving. 

“Hey!” 

           The shout caught his attention and he found himself looking at a stranger. The vampire looked around and then back towards you; pale finger pointing at his chest in confusion. “Yeah you.” You laughed awkwardly. You reached into a tote bag that hung around your shoulder and passed him a multicolor sheet of paper. He absentmindedly took the page; eyes quickly skimming the contents. ‘Art gallery, (Name) (Lastname). Live music.’ 

When he looked back up you were already on the next block handing out more flyers. ‘Saturday 8pm.’ It couldn’t hurt to go right?

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Choice: Chris

CW: References to past noncon, torture, conditioning, and training. Trauma response including ‘freeze’ response, flashbacks. PTSD and survivor’s guilt.

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions, @pretty-face-breaker, @boxboysandotherwhump, @oops-its-whump

“Chris?”

It’s only when Mari speaks that Chris even realizes he’s stopped. She and Ben are a few feet ahead, the three of them heading to the little ‘food court’ in the Student Center to grab some lunch that wasn’t meal-plan food. Mari’s hair laid over her shoulder and caught the light just so in way that she always claims is accidental, but Chris has seen her put enough time and effort into her hair to know it really, really isn’t. 

Except right now he can barely see her at all.

His heart is suddenly still inside his chest, held there through some endless eternal second, and he’s startled into a gasp when it starts beating again. Adrenaline floods his system at the same time and Chris opens his mouth to say I’m just fine but nothing comes out. 

No words. How can he make words happen?

He knows how to speak, except sometimes, when he’s scared or the world is overwhelming the connection was broken.

He can think the words, we need to go I need to go I can’t be here with him but nothing happens when he tells his mouth to move. Only breathing, nearly silent, like an animal hiding under a bush and hoping the predator wouldn’t find him.

“Chris, what’s up?” Mari moves back over to him in a swish of long flowery skirt, putting a hand on his shoulder. When Chris flinches back and away from her instinctively, she pulls her own hand back like she’s been burned, then turns to look at Ben. “Hey, Ben?”

Ben had initially stopped to look back at Chris, too, but now his eyes were moving - not lingering on Chris’s pale face, the bright red spots in his cheeks the only color other than the faintest, faded smear of freckles, but instead following Chris’s gaze to a series of booths set up down a side hallway. “Oh, I forgot all those career guys were here today.”

“Yeah, they come every couple of months, my sister said. She used to go here. What’s up, Chris?” Mari reaches out again but this time, she hesitated before touching him.

He can feel the pressure of her fingers before they reach him, the way they part the air around her. He can feel the weight of the fluorescent lights overhead, hear the soft high buzzing sound they make that sometimes it feels like nobody else can hear but him.

There’s a part of the Student Center he can’t even go in because the ventilation system makes a squeak and he’s the only one in his friend-group who can hear it and it drives him crazy and none of that matters because he’s right here, he’s right here, he’s here and Jake’s not and he’s here.

Chris’s foot feel rooted to the spot even as he desperate to run, staring at a single one of the booths, having to remind himself to blink. 

Can’t run. Have to be still. Have to be so still.

Chris’s left hand drops down to the outside of his thigh, tapping there, half-hidden simply by how quietly and quickly he moves. Have to learn to hide it, have to hide it, can’t let anyone see, stillness is better than what I do-

Help. He can think the word but can’t say it. He’s here. How to explain who ‘he’ is? How to even start. They don’t know, nobody knows, he can’t tell anyone. He can’t tell anyone why he’s scared of the WRU booth.

The logo is cold water down his back all on its own, but he’s seen the logo enough that it’s not the scariest part. He doesn’t feel suddenly terribly small because of the heavy white drape hung with the WRU design printed over it in a vibrant, bloody red. 

The table has the same kind of fabric over it, covered with brochures and paperwork that Chris knew about but had never tried to read, himself. It wasn’t worth giving himself headaches just to see-

Fucking lies, Jake had said, bringing home a stack he’d found to shred and soak in water and then dump in the trash can to be perfectly useless. Lies and lies and fucking lies, and those rich assholes buy every single one because it’s easier than looking any of you guys in he eyes to see that you’re people.

None of that is what holds him still.

What freezes Chris isn’t even the familiar black uniforms of the two men who stand by the booth shaking hands and saying friendly hellos to anyone who paused to take a look. 

What freezes him is one of the men wearing the uniform, a man he knows so well that even his bones go cold just at the sight of his profile, the straight line of his nose, rounded chin, angular jaw. The blond hair graying around the edges is a little grayer, now, but no less recognizable. 

His smile is still branded in hideous fire along the inside of Chris’s mind, along with a trainee’s shaking need to do whatever it took to make him smile, because that’s what it means to be good-

“H-handler.” It’s the only word he can remember, in that moment. It’s the only word he knows, the only person in the entire world is his handler who will come to unlock the door and bring him his food and take him for training or showers or all the other terrible moments that will never stop being etched in Chris’s memories and running like soft fingers down his spine and gripped onto his hips-

“What?” Mari’s voice breaks the moment. “What’d you say?”

Chris doesn’t look at her. He can’t.

He can’t, because Handler Petrus turns and looks right at him.

Kneel. Kneel. Fucking kneel get on your knees show him you’re good Position Two Position Two Position Two-

His knees start to buckle but he catches them, rocks forward and then back just once to remember that his body is his own, he can move it however he wants. If he doesn’t want to kneel he doesn’t have to kneel but the handler’s eyes lock on his eyes and they’re cold, so cold in his friendly smiling face.

Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, 223499? Get up, there’s mouthwash by the sink.

Hold position, or you’ll get another day without food.

Good boy, there, see, you’re a quick learner when you want to be-

“I, I, I don’t want to be,” He whispers. But it doesn’t matter. What he wants is irrelevant, Handler Petrus always gives you choices, you can choose to be good or choose to be bad and get disciplined, and there’s a choice but both of the choices mean you do what he wants because what the trainee wants is irrelevant.

Doesn’t matter.

You’re not a person anymore, so stop the sniveling and hop up on that table.

“Hey, Earth to Chris.” Mari snaps her fingers in his face and the moment breaks, all at once. Chris jerks in a breath only to realize he stopped breathing at some point, dizzy with lack of oxygen, blinking rapidly to get water back to eyes that had gone painfully scratchy and dry from no blinking. “We’re gonna be late to class if you keep just staring at nothing.”

“Lay off, Mari,” Ben says, and Chris wonders if it’s accidental or on purpose when Ben steps between Chris and the handler’s gaze. “He does that sometimes. Come on, Chris, do you need a sec? We can go to the basement, nobody ever goes down there. If you just need some quiet.”

“Um. I... I, I... I d-don’t-... I-I-I-” He looks around Ben, and realizes that Handler Petrus isn’t looking at him. The older man has turned away, is shaking someone’s hand, giving them a brochure with a friendly welcoming smile. 

Chris wants to run and grab it out of the pretty boy’s hands, yell at him that it’s a lie it’s all a lie and it’s going to hurt and it’s hell-

but they’re not here to pick up new pets, are they? No, that boy Handler Petrus is talking to isn’t going to be a pet. He’s going to be a Handler. 

Going to learn to hit and terrorize and torture and train people just like Chris. Is he in it for the hitting, the hurting? Handlers enjoy it, mostly. They like that part, they’re supposed to like that part, and it’s only the pets who would do anything to make it stop-

Anything, whatever you want, please I’ll do whatever you want I’ll sign your stupid paper just please let me out let me out let me out

Handler Petrus isn’t looking at him anymore. That moment of what had felt like eye contact, the paralyzing realization that he was right there and he could walk over and say kneel, pet and Chris would and then everyone would know what he was and is and will always be... it’s gone.

Handler Petrus didn’t know who he was.

He’d just seen someone staring, he didn’t see a pet, he didn’t see 223499, he didn’t see the scars where his barcode used to be so carefully hidden by his long sleeves. No... no, he’d just seen a gawker. Some college kid taking a moment to look. 

He didn’t know him.

The relief Chris feels realizing that his long blue hair and his narrower face, without the hint of puppyfat roundness he’d still had when he went to Sir’s, went unrecognized, nearly knocks him off his feet. He grabs onto Mari just to steady himself and she smiles, puzzled, but holds on.

“Hey. We can go somewhere,” Ben repeats, softer this time, but more serious, too. “If you need a minute.”

Chris turns back to Ben and gives a thin, frightened smile. “I’m okay. Let’s... let’s, let’s go get l... get, get lunch. I, I just-... maybe I’m j-just hungry.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Ben shrugs, and Mari links an arm in his, and Chris lets them lead him away.

He looks over his shoulder only once to see that Handler Petrus is still talking to the same boy, who is writing something down on a piece of paper. There’s another boy, in shabbier clothes, clutching an old backpack and watching but not moving any closer, not yet.

Chris knows what he’s looking at because Jake would know what he’s looking at.

One boy talking about taking a job... another watching and wondering if becoming a pet would solve whatever problems were roiling around inside him.

Chris tells himself he can’t do anything to stop it, not without putting everyone he loves at risk, and he lets Mari and Ben lead him away. He doesn’t think about the boy with the backpack through his lunch. He doesn’t daydream through all his classes about finding him and telling him what it’s really like. He doesn’t think about him at all.

He definitely doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat from a nightmare that night about the boy with the backpack signing his contract, and pad out to the end of the hall to be alone.

He doesn’t clutch his phone like a liferaft.

He doesn’t call Jake at 4 AM and beg him to say it’s okay if he can’t save anyone else but himself, if he can’t be the one to help other people be saved, that it’s okay if he’s too scared to ever have his handler’s eyes on his face again. 

He doesn’t ask Jake to remind him it’s been four years and he never has to go back.

He doesn’t.

Except he does, and Jake says all the right things, and then Chris hangs up the phone and hugs his knees to his chest and rocks and rocks and rocks and cries for the boy with the backpack, looking at the WRU booth and thinking he sees a way out of anything, when all he’s looking at is a way into something worse than whatever hell he’s living through.

Chris hopes and prays to nothing and no one that the boy walked away, that he didn’t make the choice.

Maybe next time he’ll be strong enough to risk the handler’s eyes and be as strong as Jake is and ignore his own fears to stand up for someone else. Maybe next time. Maybe-

Chris is still there when the sky goes grayish pink and the sun starts to rise.

[a-monsters-love]

The Air Between Us: Conversations with an Avatar

[Prologue] [Part 1] [Blurb 1] [Part 2] [Blurb 2] [Epilogue]

Genre: sad, angst

Word count: 1,586

Warnings: This is just filler; IF YOU HAVENT READ THE AIR BETWEEN US THIS WILL NOT MAKE MUCH SENSE

A/N: This is a side note, or something that happened to (Y/N) that wasn’t posted in the original story I wrote, mostly because I figured you guys would like the whole idea VS me summarizing it to fit into the story.

A/N 2: No one is allowed to be mad at me for not posting this earlier but I’ll be 100% honest when I say I forgot. I fell in a rut and started writing BNHA fics and then started working 12hr shifts at work so- yeah. I’m very sorry

——

Zuko hasn’t woken up yet. You helped the sages get him into a bed and watched Katara start healing him. You feel yourself crumbling, falling back into the dark place you tried so hard to hide and crawl out of. You’re tired, you feel your eyes getting heavy. You blink and see something blue, something bright and looking right at you. If you weren’t so tired you might jump up and fight, but your body wouldn’t move. You doze off for a short period before you feel a jolt, like you just fell back into your body. You eyes fly open and you look up, at the figure in front of you. “Suki?” You rub your eyes, trying to reorient yourself and stretch.

“I didn’t know I looked like Suki.” You hear a small laugh, it’s Aang. If he’s here then you must’ve won. You quickly stand up and pull the young boy in for a hug.

Aang hugs you back firmly, tears start falling down your face. “You’re not allowed to disappear like that again.” You cry as you pull him into you, he’s like a little brother to you, and he was the only other air bender you knew. You were terrified, you knew how much he felt like family to you.

“It wasn’t on purpose, I swear.” He chuckles and lets you cry. “Come on, lets get you some food.” He pulled you by your hand and you hesitate to leave Zuko’s side. “He’ll be fine, but you won’t be if you don’t eat.” You let the younger boy pull you into the dining hall. You ate with everyone, the mood was tense but everyone was just exhausted.

“Longest day - ever.” Sokka whines, Suki pinched him causing him to yelp. She knows it’s been harder for some. Pointing a hand at you and Aang.

You barely touched your food but you tried. You try to smile at everyone and walk out. Katara goes to call out for you but Aang just puts a hand out and shakes his head before following you out. He follows you down every hall and turn, you walked slowly until your found your way outside. This takes longer than you would’ve liked but you were a bit disoriented from the events of the day. You found your way to a pond. You sit down pulling your knees into your chest, your tears feel like they’ve dried out. Aang watches you for some time before coming and sitting next to you. Neither of you say anything for some time.

You knew Aang was following you, you knew you could stop him. It’s not that you wanted to be alone but you just felt awful. You just wanted someone to tell you that you weren’t a mistake, that hurting people wasn’t the point of your life. You rub your face an sigh, looking up at the sky. “My mom used to tell me and Shu stories about the stars.” You start, Aang looks over and watches you. “She said that the stars were just our ancestors watching over us. That the moon collected them to protect them in the spirit realm, she would tell us that destiny never worked out the way we wanted it to but the way it was meant to.” You continue, you’ve never really talked about your parents. Not even with Shu, “She would always sing and dance about, teaching us songs. She taught us how to play piano and guitar, she loved to teach us new things. Our dad was a stern person but he would always showed his love in little ways. A pat on the head, a thumbs up, he’d teach us a new trick about some.. nonsense.” You trailed on before stopping. You had both a lot and very few memories of your parents.

“What happened to them?” Aang asks quietly, you tilt your head a little and look at him from the corner of your eyes. You bit your lip, scolding yourself for bringing it up.

You sigh and look down, you drop your head and cross your legs. Holding your ankles, Aang thought you resembled Shu in this position. “When uhm, when we found out I was an Air Bender I had very little control over it. Shu and I were maybe 3-4?” You lift your head up and take a deep breath, “When we were about 5 we were in the Earth Kingdom visiting someone when a small burst of air came from me. Spirits, my poor moms face looked terrified. Apparently she wasn’t the only one to notice, our parents were taken away for questioning and we never saw them again.” You look over at Aang who’s face held so much pain, reflecting how you felt. “I always blamed myself. I stayed a stage hand at the circus because I blamed myself, something I want selfishly always hurts the people I care about most.” You indicated you the palace, referencing Zuko. “I’ve always been so ashamed and angry and felt guilty of my existence.” You pull your legs up and put your face in your knees for some time.

You feel a large and heavy hand on your shoulder, “Go away, Shu.” You say without lifting your head.

“My name isn’t ‘Shu’,” You hear a soft but husky voice say, you lifted your head and looked over. You see Avatar Kyoshi. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for some time but Aang wasn’t fully connected with the Avatar state yet.”

You stare at her, partly frightened and partly confused, “W-why would you want to talk to me?” You ask quietly. You didn’t understand, honestly you just couldn’t comprehend the point.

Kyoshi stares down at you, she wasn’t as terrifying as you first thought to your surprise. She reminds you a lot of your twin, which helps you calm down. “I spent a large part of my life angry at my parents. Angry at their decisions, and ashamed of their choices.” You could see sorrow and empathy in her face.

Tears stream down your face as she speaks, you had no idea. You hadn’t even considered how she felt at the choices your ancestors made, she was effected differently for the same reasons. “I just-“ You stutter through your tears, “I just don’t know what to do, or how to feel. I’m just so angry!” The air starts moving aggressively around the two of you, Kyoshi watches your surroundings and then back at you when it calms. “I’m just so angry with myself, Auntie.” You cry, you can’t stop it anymore.

Auntie, the word brings a small smile to her face. “You inherited my heart, while your brother inherited my height.” She chuckles lightly, “However you both inherited my strength.” She puts a hand on your back as you sob. “You twins are Yin and Yang. You balance each other perfectly but that will be found irrelevant if you can find balance within yourself.”

Kyoshi pulls you upright and straightens out your attire as you sniffle yourself calm, you chuckle at her actions. “What are you doing..?” You ask in a raspy voice.

“I never had children, I don’t know how to comfort kids when they’re sad.” She finishes organizing your attire and making you sit and face her, “All our actions always have an effect. Sometimes positive, sometimes negative and sometimes not for many life times. You are the effect, you (Y/N) are not to blame for what happened to your parents, you are not to blame for what happened to the Fire Prince. You are allowed to be selfish. There’s nothing wrong with you, and I’m glad that you made it to this period in time.”

You feel tears bubble up again, you smile and hug her. “Thank you, Auntie.”

She hugs you back firmly and let’s go, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Be happy.” She says as she faded away, leaving Aang in her place. He looks at you quizzically as information starts to come to him, Aang smiles at you.

You almost tackle the young Avatar, giving him a hug and chuckling softly. You lean back and wipe your face into your shirt. “Avatar Kyoshi is not as menacing as history portrays her to be.” You both laugh and get up, “Thank you, Aang.”

“Hey, I didn’t do anything this time.” He pulls up his hands and smiles, glad that you’re feeling better.

You find the rest of the gaang quickly as you walk back towards the palace. Apparently they watched the whole scene, “YOU CALLED HER AUNTIE.” Suki squeals at you.

————————

A/N: I’m just over here cutting onions, it’s fine. But on an honest note, I have really bad depression and when I was writing this series I lightly touched on (Y/N)’s mental health and felt she deserved to have someone tell her she’s allowed to be happy. I know like friends and S/O’s say stuff like that but when you’re in deep and depressy sometimes it doesn’t matter.

Tag List:

@coalsmind @bucky-blogs @fanficflaneuse @cutiepoo16 @eridanuswave @grapesauze @theblueslytherin @coolpenguingoddess @royahllty @whalerus @shemakesfanvids @lammello @ditu-m9 @kryptidkova @gxrleexis-arctic-monks @azriels-forgotten-shadow @zukosvice @woohoney @zuko-is-my-love @etherealhobii 

[innaminitus]

Trick or treat

Pairing: Loki x reader

Request: Living with Loki and there baing a trick or treater cild who dresses up as him and he smiles and talks about it all night (from @fly-on-my-sweet-angel​)

Warnings: language, smut without much plot, au where loki saves ny during a mission

Word count: 1608

A/N: short but spicy

With his lips on yours and his tongue in your mouth, you forgot about the whole world. About the time, which suddenly felt irrelevant. About the space, about the stars. The only thing you could think of was that the Earth kept spinning, your whole world was moving, but it wasn’t moving around the Sun anymore. It was all about Loki.

That is, it was the only thing you could think about until you heard the doorbell.

“Are we expecting someone?” His whisper on your lips made you shiver.

“Well,” you managed to say “it’s Halloween. We are expecting a bunch of kids asking us for candy.”

He captured your lips again when the doorbell sounded once more.

“Can we ignore them?”

“We can.” You slid from underneath him. “But we won’t.”

You got up from the couch and grabbed a bowl filled with candy before opening the door with a sigh.

“Trick or treat!” You froze. It was just a one kid, a girl, maybe six years old, staring at you with her big eyes, with leather clothes and a gold paper mache crown with horns. She smiled widely at first, but the smile faded once you didn’t react. “Trick or treat?” She tilted her head.

You shook the shock off and smiled at her.

“Hey, babe?” You shouted to Loki. “You might want to see this amazing costume.”

You heard him sigh and stand up from the couch. He came to you with crossed arms and froze as well when he saw the girl.

“That’s me,” he murmured, eyebrows raised and a smile blooming on his face.

The girl watched him with parted lips, the grasp on her pumpkin bucket tightening.

“Loki!” She squirmed, dropping the bucket and storming through the doorstep, within seconds her little arms wrapping around him. “You’remyfavouritehero,Iloveyou,youhavethebestsuit,Iloveyou,mymumsaysyousavednewyorkandIloveyouforthat–“ She spit the words out like a machinegun, hugging Loki tightly.

You watched the scene with parted lips as Loki was looking at you with disbelief, tapping the girl’s head lightly, not sure what to do.

“Thank you for saving our home, Mr Loki sir,” she said when she finally pulled away with rosy cheeks and shining eyes.

“You’re welcome– I mean,” he corrected himself when he saw your expression, “here.” He picked up her bucket and threw all the candy you had inside. “Happy Halloween.”

She smiled widely at him and thanked before almost dancing out of your apartment. Shaking your head you closed the door.

“Did you see that?” He was smiling widely. “She dressed up as me! As me! Not this douche Rogers, not Ant-Man! Me!”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around him.

“That was really sweet.” You stood on your toes and kissed the tip of his nose. “My hero.” You pecked his neck. “Don’t forget me once the fame kicks in–”

He suddenly grabbed your waist and almost slammed you onto the wall, making you gasp.

“Tsk… I might consider it… If you answer this one question….” His lips were on your ear. “Trick or treat?”

Heat spread through your body, excitement taking over your brain.

“Both.”

One of his hands gently travelled up your body, fingers caressed the collarbone, moved to the neck and pressed the pulse point.

“Do you think you can take both?” His voice was erotic, spilling into your ear and messing with your mind.

“Yes– Yes.”

He forced you up, locking your legs around his waist, his lips close to yours, but not relieving you with a kiss.

He carried you like this to the bedroom and almost threw you on the floor before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Something for me first. Undress, baby.”

You wiped the hair away from your face and neck, smiling sweetly. Treat for him first, lots of tricks for you later.

Your fingers sneaked to the hem of your shirt, tugging it teasingly, your eyes locked on Loki. He raised a brow at you and you lifted the shirt, showing your belly, then ribs, then the edge of the red, lacy bra you bought and wore just for him. The shirt was soon off, lying on the floor. You mover your hands down your body, caressing your skin, tracing the hem of the jeans with one finger before unbuttoning them. You watched him part his lips slightly with lush when you slid the jeans down your legs, leaving you only in red lingerie.

One strap of your bra was off, then another one. One, two, three hooks. Your fingers touched the goose bumps on your naked breasts, pinched the nipples, you bit your lower lip. Loki’s eyes never left your body, you weren’t sure if he was even blinking. You could feel the temperature in the room rising when you took off the lacy panties and stood in front of your love, naked to his sight.

“What a treat,” he said in a husky voice. “My sweet, sweet Y/N…” He reached to you and you took his hand. He dragged you rapidly on his lap, on which you landed with your stomach, your ass under his palm.  He massaged your cheeks. “Such… a… treat,” he slapped your ass hard, making you squirm. He moved you slightly on his lap, so not only your cheeks were exposed to him, but also your pussy, wet and glistening from arousal that was only growing with each second. He swiped a finger though your folds, collecting your juices and purring with satisfaction. He raised his hand again, this time slapping your pussy, uncontrolled moan escaped your lips. “My horny little pumpkin…” Another slap, your arousal was unbelievable. “So wet…” He struck you once more, the sound of it filled the room. “And so marvellous.” With that last word he forced two fingers deep inside your pussy, not even bothering slowing down for a second, hitting your g-spot each time he thrusted into you, quickly turning you into a moaning mess.

His skilled fingers were curled as he roughly moved them in and out, the other hand tangling your hair and forcing your head up. Your muscles clenched around him, begging for more, begging to let you come.

But, of course, that would be too good.

You asked for a trick as well, after all.

He pulled out and threw you from his lap, making you kneel on the floor in front of him. He unbuckled the belt and unzipped his pants, freeing the hard member, dripping for your pussy.

Or mouth.

You crawled in between his legs and without a thought stroke his shaft with your tongue, following the pulsing vein. You closed your lips around the tip and received a sigh, Loki’s fingers dived into your hair, forcing your head down. You happily obeyed, taking as much of him as you could, swirling your tongue around it, sucking and swallowing every bit of what he was giving you. You bobbed your head up and down, the base of your tongue rubbing the tip each time. The fingers in your hair made you move faster and take him deeper, you were gagging and the sound of it only made him more aroused. Your hand took care of what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, the warmth of his cock both on your tongue and under your fingers was giving you entire new sensations, the tip was now hitting the back of your throat.

He suddenly pulled your hair and you could sharply breathe again, the sting of saliva connecting your stuck out tongue with his cock.

He leaned and kissed you deeply, his hands on your cheeks, slight pressure telling you to stand up. When you parted you weren’t surprised to see him completely naked, he often used his magic to get rid of what didn’t have much use anymore.

He threw you on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips on yours again, your bodies touching almost every inch of each other, your limbs tangled as well as your tongues.

You seemed infinite. There was no beginning and no end, only this moment, only you and him, and the feeling of being forever.

He slid into you with ease, your slick allowing him to fill you perfectly at first try. He stayed like that, smiling at your gasp, kissing away every word you’d want to tell him.

When he moved your world was spinning again, the only thing that mattered was the sensation of him stretching your falls, of his abdomen rubbing your clit and the obscene sound of slapping bodies. He wasn’t gentle, that was never his thing. He slammed into you, his teeth bit your neck, leaving countless marks, one of his hands kneaded your breast, making you moan to heavens.

You weren’t sure you would ever get used to how perfect he was, to the addicting feeling of him being rough and thrusting into you with the force of a wild animal.

Your fingers sunk into his back, your squirms were muted by his kisses. The smell of arousal was driving you insane as he fucked you hard, bringing you close to the edge of sanity, driving you mad. Your hips moved with his, your walls clenched on him hard when you shouted his name loudly, milking him, kissing his gasp. The unbelievable pleasure spilled through your veins, mind-shattering orgasm ruined you whole, the warmth of his cum releasing yet another moan.

He stayed inside of you for a while longer, his blurry eyes locked on yours, not letting a drop flow out of you.

“Happy Halloween, my little pumpkin.”

You kissed his smile, bumping your nose with his.

Happy indeed.

___

tag lists: 

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[hallospaceboyy]

In the last live stream Miranda said, she's terrified of snakes. That got me thinking: What if it is the same with Zelda. Please do a story where the reader's familiar is a huge ass snake and Zelda is terrified by it. Maybe the reader even tries convincing the goblin-familiar-thingy to change appearance, 'cause Zelda can't stand it and always flees the scene Zelda.exe has stopped working, ya know 😂

Ophidiophobia

AN: This idea is GREAT, thank you for sending it!! I got a very similar request the other day, so this will be for that one too, hope that's okay!

The day of your move in with Zelda has finally arrived, and you enter the threshold, laden with bags, and drop them to the floor with a thud. You hear the click of heels from the direction of the kitchen, and Zelda strides into the entrance hall to greet you, smiling wide, but her smile fades and she blanches when she sees your familiar curled around your shoulders, coiled down your arm. Her eyes are wide and she stops in her tracks.

“What in Lilith's name is that horrendous thing?” She asks, jaw set, mouth down turned.

“He's my familiar. He's very friendly. His name is Noodle.” You grin and scratch at his scaly head. Your familiar had taken the form of a Burmese Python, and you had never told Zelda that, never felt the need. Zelda very much seemed the kind of witch to be scared of nothing, let alone a snake, but she looks terrified now.

“N-Noodle. That ghastly creature is called Noodle.” She takes a step back when you step toward her, and you squint, scrutinising her.

“Are you afraid of snakes, Zelds?”

“Of course not! Why on earth would I be afraid of some lizard without legs. A very... large lizard without legs.” She grimaces as her eyes rest on Noodle's face, and his tongue flicks out. “Find somewhere to keep him. Away from me. It's ugly.” She turns on her heel and flounces back to the kitchen, and you can only watch with wide eyes.

“Definitely scared of you.” You murmur, smirking, and you lift your bags and go in search for an empty room to abandon your familiar before unpacking.

*

You're lounging on the sofa in the parlour, a book in your lap, when you hear an almighty screech, and you jump up immediately, paying no mind to the volume thudding to the floor. You recognise the scream as Zelda's instantly, and sprint in the direction of the kitchen, heart beating erratically in your chest.

Zelda stands on one of the rickety dining chairs, a broom in her hand, and you frown, mouth opening to ask her what's going on, but there's no need, when you see Noodle slithering across the kitchen floor. Zelda is shaking profusely, pointing the broom at him with quivering hands.

“I thought I told you to keep him away!” Her voice is strained, her breathing heavy.

“Zelds, he's not going to hurt you.”

She doesn’t reply, only glares daggers at you, and you sigh, crouching down and heaving the familiar’s heavy form onto your shoulders.

“Come, Noodle. We need to have a little chat.” You depart from the kitchen, leaving Zelda standing on the chair. “I know you haven’t done anything wrong. No you're not really ugly.” Zelda rolls her eyes as she hears your side of the conversation with the creature, daintily stepping off of the chair and straightening her dress.

*

You sit on the bed of the spare room Noodle was supposed to be shut up in, and he slithers from his perch on your shoulders, coils on the bed.

“Right, you need to change your appearance. I can’t have Zelda being this scared all the time. It's not fair, this is her house.”

“She's just jealous because her familiar is dead.” He argues indignantly, turning his face away from you.

“He's not-“ You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes. “This isn't jealousy, Noodle. She's terrified. It's easy for you to change forms, just do it for me, please.”

The snake remains coiled on the bed for several minutes, and he ignores your presence entirely, and you look away, form sagging in resignation. You're surprised when you look back, and the snake you once knew is no longer there, replaced by a large rat, black and white, with a long worm like tail.

You grin at him, scratching his head, and then you tug on his tail playfully. “At least I can still call you Noodle with this thing.”

*

You remain hidden upstairs for a few hours, Noodle curled asleep on your chest. You thought it best to let Zelda calm down, didn't feel like being on the receiving end of her wrath today. You didn't know how Noodle had escaped to torment her in the first place, you were so sure you had shut the door, but that was irrelevant now. You just hope your familiar and your lover can learn to get along now that his appearance wouldn't leave the witch paralysed with fear.

You poke Noodle in the side to wake him, and place him on your shoulder as you stand, deciding to go and find the redhead, and you soon come across her sitting relaxed in an armchair in the parlour. Noodle licks at your cheek in reassurance as you hover in the doorway.

“Hey, Zelds.” She doesn’t look up from the book in her hands, merely grunts in reply and you sigh, striding towards her. “I have someone I'd like you to meet.”

“If you're going to make me look at that damned snake again, you can move out.”

Your jaw drops at the iciness in her tone, the revelation that she is willing to simply kick you out over this, the way she speaks to you without feeling. You ignore the pang of hurt in your chest, blink back the sudden sting of tears, and take Noodle from your shoulder and drop him in her lap. He lands on the book with a thud, and squeaks angrily at you.

“Sorry, Noodle.” You scratch his head, and then turn away from her, storming from the room. You stop in the doorway and turn to face her, jaw set in anger and hurt. “I convinced him to change for you. You can sit there with him until you get along.”

Zelda hisses and retracts her hand, eyeing the blood forming there, and you can’t suppress your smirk as you turn away. Noodle had obviously gaged that she has upset you, and nipped her finger as punishment. She deserved that. She seems to know that she did too, as she says nothing as you stomp up the stairs, doesn’t even so much as scold the familiar in her lap.

*

There's a tentative knock at the door, and you lay in stony silence, in no mood for company. You’re curled in the bed you share with Zelda, nose buried in her pillow despite the fact you are impossibly angry with her, upset at her harsh words. The door opens slowly, and you stiffen as the mattress dips behind you. Noodle is placed gently on your shoulder, and he immediately curls into your neck. You only turn to look at the redhead because Noodle convinces you to hear her out, tells you she had been kind to him, even apologised to the creature.

She smiles softly when you meet her eyes, and she looks shy, has the good grace to look ashamed, and so very apologetic. “I owe you an apology. I should never have so rashly told you to leave, not even in my anger. My irrational anger.” She reaches out a hand and strokes your cheek, gazing at you affectionately. “Thank you. For asking him to change form. I am terrified of snakes.” She chuckles nervously, looking down at the sheets.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out, but thank you for admitting it.” You reply curtly, and then instantly regret it as Zelda's face falls, know that it can’t have been easy for her to admit weakness, even to you. “You're welcome. He's much cuter like this anyway.”

Noodle crawls from your shoulder to the pillow, and you sit up, instantly taking Zelda into your arms, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as she rests her chin on your shoulder, still warm from Noodle’s body heat. Zelda relaxes into you, stroking your hair with slender fingers. “I am sorry, darling.”

“I know.” You pepper kisses to her cheek, and feel her grin against you. Pulling away, you lift her hand to examine the tiny teeth marks in her finger, and snort in amusement. She narrows her eyes, smirking.

“Did you put him up to that?”

“No! He's just very protective. You did deserve it though.”

Zelda chuckles, shaking her head. “I did. Well, I approve of his protectiveness. He's a good familiar.”

You lean forward and capture her lips in a kiss, and she hums against you, stroking your waist. “Yes, he is.” You whisper when you part, smiling fondly at the rodent stretched out on the pillow, and then directing your fondness to the witch in your arms, nuzzling your nose against hers.

“He's not making a habit of sleeping on my pillow, though.”

[birdwonder]

Hi! I’m in love with your blog and I don’t know if your scenario requests are up, but if so, (and sorry if this is specific) could I request a black s/o who has a serious crush on Josuke? Her crush is like, huge. She’s had a crush on him for three solid years and always talks to her friends about how cute he is, but she’s honestly too shy to ever talk to him. One day, s/o’s friend convinces them to do a new look (braids maybe) and it catches Jojo’s attention and talks to her? Thank you!! -Opal

Josuke Higashikata | Hair Do

“Oh Yukako, he’s coming this way! Do I look alright?”

“You look fine.”

“My skirt! Is it fixed right? What about my makeup?”

“I said you look fine.”

“Yeah but-”

“He’s here.”

Two girls leaned against a school hallway wall, sun shining through the windows and their whispers thankfully drowned out by the sound of chattering passerby’s who took no notice of what they were saying nor doing. One was Yukako Yamagishi, a beautiful young woman who never seemed to be lighted by a smile in public, at least not when she wasn’t accompanied by her beloved Koichi or closest friend [First Name] [Last Name].

In this scenario, [First Name] was the one who was standing beside her, a walking bundle of nervous who was trying to adjust her outfit as best as she could all for the sake of impressing one person - Josuke Higashikata.

For those who don’t know, and if you were her best friend you would know, [First Name] not only had a crush on the male high schooler but was absolutely head over heels in love with him.

When Yukako asked what had brought these feelings along, she immediately regretted it as she was bombarded with a million facts about the man that seemed completely irrelevant to her. Though any man who wasn’t Koichi was irrelevant to her. 

The reason the girl was nitpicking every small detail about herself at that moment had the same answer as to who she liked. Josuke was sure enough coming down the halls and it would kill her if she looked like a mess near him, especially when all she wants is at the very least to go on a date with him. Teenager priorities and all that.

Yukako was quick to end her fretting however by simply pointing out he was now walking past the two girls.

In attempt to seem natural, [First Name] had pulled out whatever conversation topic she could from her head and pretended as though that was the subject they were on all along, hands on her hips as though she was thoroughly invested into the talk, “so that last maths quiz, right? I probably totally failed.”

The raised eyebrow and unimpressed look Yukako gave was more than enough to show that what was going through her head was, ‘smooth, [Nickname], smooth.’ That also being more than enough to make the other girl panic internally over how she appeared. 

Luckily, the panic soon subsided as soon as she glanced to the side and spotted the tall, impressive figure of Josuke. Who wouldn’t be impressed by a teenager who was so well built? 

There was just something about him that brought [First Name] back down to Earth no matter the situation, and the butterflies in her stomach had grown so used to appearing around him that they were synchronised in how they fluttered. She supposed, if she really had to choose, that his friendly personality is what she loved best about him. Even on her first day, he had been so kind and welcoming towards her and went on to introduce her to some of his friends; thus leading to her becoming the greatest friends with Yukako. A man who finds you your best friend is definitely a keeper.

When her eyes met Josuke’s, she involuntarily smiled at him. She would have done it on her own accord to seem polite and interested in him, but no. Seeing him was all she needed to have a spark of joy in her heart. If not for him and Yukako, school would be like a prison to her. 

“Hey [First Name],” he greeted, holding up a hand as a small wave and smiling kindly while strolling past. It may have not been much but it meant the world to her. 

“H-hey!” She chirped back, cursing herself for stuttering while staying strong by waving back in a much more intense manner by raising her whole arm into the air. 

No more was said after that. Josuke had walked down the hall and around a corner like he was never there to begin with.

Then, she let out a sigh and slumped against a wall. “Yukako, did you see that? I was so awkward! He was so nice saying hi to me and I blew it.”

“You said hi back, there was nothing else you could do,” the taller female comforted, though it was incredibly monotone despite her slightly sympathetic look. She pitied her friend a little with how worked up she could get over the smallest of things. 

“Still, I could have done more. It’s surprising he even notices me, I’m so ... plain!” The girl sighed miserably, her slumped shoulders and now much more closed in body language differing greatly to how bubbly she was only moments ago. It wasn’t like comments like these were a horrible habit that blossomed out of no where, it was just when she had those moments where she thought that she wouldn’t be good enough for anyone. Yukako was always ready to disagree.

Taking hold of [First Name]’s face with both hands, Yukako furrowed his thin eyebrows and made sure that both were staying straight into each other’s eyes which caused a few shivers down [First Name]’s spine since the stand user was not someone you could not feel a little intimidated by. “Listen,” her voice was stern, “you shouldn’t need to feel bad about yourself just because of one boy, especially one as stupid as Higashikata.”

“He’s not stupid!” You tried to argue, squeaking a little when a harsh glare burned into you.

“Let me finish. You shouldn’t feel bad about yourself and don’t you dare go thinking about changing yourself for him either,” she warned, “I won’t go into it but I tried that for Koichi once and sure it went alright in the end but... The risk and effort wasn’t one that anyone should have to endure, so don’t, alright?”

Judging by how a small frown came to Yukako’s lips, her words truly did come from the heart and experience, meaning they shouldn’t be brushed off easily. 

“Thanks Yuko, I really appreciate it,” [First Name] smiled softly, dropping a nickname that was made only a week into them first meeting and stuck ever since. It was a nice feeling, having someone there for you when you couldn’t even support yourself. “Still, I really want to do something different you know? Switch up my same old so I at least feel like I’m putting in more effort than just not talking to him.”

There was a pause between both of them. One was filled with self-pity and another pondering over what to do next. The latter spoke first, “ok, tell you what. We won’t make you a new person but if you do want to have a bit of a change, I think I know exactly what to do.” Yukako nodded with certainty, a plan already hatched in her head. 

“You’ll do that for me?” The shorter female gasped, excitement bubbling in her stomach before she launched towards Yukako, arms stretched out and engulfing the female into a tight hug. “I love you Yuko!~”

“Y-yes, ok! You’re welcome but please, let go of me!”

                           ⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

It was Friday when that had went down, and a good yet painfully long weekend later led to [First Name] sat in her classroom with a whole new look. Correction - her hair had a new look.

Yukako had stuck to her word and had helped her friend with changing things up a little, coming round her house to work on the [Last Name]’s hair. It was her speciality after all. When [First Name] expressed shock at her meticulous hands and skill, Yukako had stated simply that she had experimented more styles than she could count on her self. The girl got bored when not around with her friends, and was always looking for cute hairstyles for dates and for practicality.

Now, leaning against her chair, [First Name] sat with her hair in a box braid style which took far too long to do. Plus it hurt too much for her to redo it anytime soon. Mixed in her black hair, dark purple extensions were added to the mix so that it faded from the darker colour to the lighter. Presumably, she could get away with when it came to school rules seeing as some people had naturally white hair or other whack colours. 

Still, even with this new look, she was uncomfortable.

It looked great! Yukako had done and amazing job that she was forever grateful for but the issue of being unnoticed remained. She was the type to stick out in a crowd, even with a new hair do, so [First Name] was almost certain that her efforts to catch her puppy love crush’s attention was pointless. On the positive side, she had tried something new and you know what? That was the most important thing in the end. Doing something for yourself and experimenting - Yukako would say the same thing.

“Woah, [First Name], you look so different!” Josuke excitedly called out from the door of the classroom, the same guy who didn’t wait a second to rush over to the startled girl. His hands slammed onto her desk and his eyes were wide with curiosity and admiration, supposedly focused on her hair yet it felt like he was staring straight into her eyes. “I’ve never seen your hair like this before, it’s freaking awesome!”

This was way unexpected. “Thank you so much, Josuke,” she replied with a bit of a stutter at first as she tried to wrap her head around the situation, “Yukako helped me! I wanted to try something new, I guess!” A large smile wasted no time to appear on her lips, this is exactly what she had wanted. 

“Well you look amazing! The colours even look great too.” He commented with his own smile, a hand moving up to lightly touch his pompadour. “I wonder if I can pull that off? Mixing a colour in with my hair. Purple is one of my favourite colours...”

Josuke then had a visible bolt of brilliance, looking as though he had thought of an ingenious plan. “We can match, black and purple!” His laughter showed that it was only a joke but it made [First Name]’s heart flutter all the same. Matching with Josuke, as peculiar as hair would be, would be a dream come true. Part of a dream really. 

“We could, you’d make it work!” She responded with a giggle and twisted one of the braids in between her fingers. “I think your hair looks great the way it does now though, it looks hard to manage. Trust me, I would know about high maintenance.” A gesture to her own appearance made the two of them laugh again.

“Yeah? Well I guess we both put loads of work into our awesome do’s. We can be each other’s moral hair support.” Josuke had began to pull out a chair from the desk in front of [First Name]’s, turning it so he could sit down opposite her. Homeroom may be starting soon but he wanted to talk for as long as possible.

“Tell me how you and Yukako did it, it don’t look easy.” He seemed, and was, genuinely interested in the whole hair thing and though it may have not been anything like a confession, this was far better in [First Name]’s opinion. It felt more real than a fairy tale dream come to life. 

Nervously fiddling with her hair, she shrugged. “Oh it’s a bore really, I don’t want to waste your time on stuff like that.”

Josuke scoffed jokingly and waved a hand at her, “don’t be like that! I asked didn’t I? So I want to know. If you tell me, I might even give you some insight on my hair routine.”

“Really? Weeelll, I guess I got to tell you now.”

“Great! I’m all ears. !~”

Scooting closer, Josuke placed both his hands on the desk to which [First Name] did the same as she began to ramble about how it was all done, starting from the planning and the painful hair tugging that had to be done for it to be achieved. To anyone looking over at them, it would seem they were in a world of their own. The sun from the window shone on them perfectly and their faces shone even brighter. In the end, neither of them wanted to leave their small world and Josuke had offered for them to hang out after school for their conversation to continue. 

[moonlightstars16]

Chapter 11 ~ First Encounters

1. I want to personally thank @thepurecinnamonroll who created this beautiful cover for my story. Please check out her amazing work.

2. As I mentioned from the last chapter that I will be taking a break from updating 'Shattered Blood' for the next two weeks. I have sort of lost touch with his story but I want to continue and finish it. I dislike leaving stories incomplete. So I'll be refreshing and taking time to work on more chapters. So I won't hit burn-out. I will return around July 28th(Don't worry I have other works you can check out that I update a bit more on the daily side. Please check them out as well). I also want to thank everyone who has supported my story, left kudos and comments. Ya'll are amazing and I wish you all the best during this trying time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A strucken blow....then another...and another....

Steven barley held on as the pinkish red glow emerged from within. Feeling the rumble and sharp edged from the tree and boulder he was slightly laying against. Coughing up blood trying to regaining his breathing.

"You are just a pathetic human with gem powers. Are you going to take this lying down?! Fight me and prove that you deserve those Diamond powers! Or are you too weak to handle them!?"

"I'm NOT!" Steven shouted, causing a sudden sonic boom like sound from his voice to all the area around him. He jumped up and with a strong kick, knocked Jasper back. The continued to hit her over and over. She just laughed and laughed as his fist made contact with any part of her. The laughter taunted him.

Just like the Diamonds...and he hated it.

Then he punched under her head, with fists forming what seemed to me a small ball with spikes all around, and made her helmet reappear. That made him even more furious.

Where was his helmet? Where was his protection?! Why did he have to suffer without any comfort to fall back on?!

With a loud shout he punched her so hard, it made her stop laughing and more focusing on the fight before her. The determination and worry behind her eyes opened his up. He enjoyed this. He wanted to see this fear... He CRAVED this! So much so that he began to laugh maniacally himself.

Another blow... then another... and another...

He had her up in the air, speed so fast time was becoming more and more irrelevant. He didn't care about anything except fighting- no... shattering her.

Oh yes the thought was glorious. Just the mere idea of it sent a sensation so full of ecstasy that all he saw in his sight was red. Then with one more punch, he sent her down to the ground in a huge pit formed by the impact. Shields of pentagons formed around her, locking her in place like chains. Jasper pulled, kicked and punched trying to break free. But it was too late. A bright red-ish pink light made her look up. Eyes widened from the sight.

A wall full of pentagon shields formed, bending slightly at the sides. Spikes appeared out of nowhere. Aiming only for her. She was the target, and he was excited.

"Thank you, Jasper. These Diamond powers are now mine!" With a villainous laugh he pushed the wall in her direction. Watching as it crushed her...poofed her... and her gem fell apart. Floating slowly down he picked up the shards and smirked. "Looks like I won this fight." He chuckled darkly.

Bubbling, or now in a cage of sorts, the shards and sent it back to the castle. Looking down at the slightly torn up black t-shirt with a yellow star, jeans and his red sandals. Walking back towards his palace. This identity wasn't him anymore. Thoughts swirled in his head as the thought of shattering her again and again. After all, he had the power along with essences of the other Diamonds thanks to a certain Spinel gem. The game had just begun.

Jasper froze in place, gasping at what had happened. A red-ish pink shield came in between her fist and Connie's body. But her gaze was looking at someone else. A familiar pair of glowing, Diamond shaped eyes bore into her own. Both of them staying that way for a while. Finally she pulled back and growled lowly. Bowing before him in defeat. Flashes of being shattered and brought back to life over and over came into view.

"Dismissed, Jasper." With that she got up, head bowed briefly.

"As you command." Trying not to grumble under her breath beginning to walk away.

"And don't you dare, ever fight her again. Unless you want to go back to being shattered." Jasper froze momentarily before walking away without a single word. Steven breathed deeply and put away his shield before directing his attention on Connie. Whose own eyes were widened from the scene that played out right before her. Kneeling down he offered his hand for her own. swallowing hard a little, she accepted and stood up slowly. Though her head was still throbbing from the blow.

"Uh...thank you..." She mumbled, unsure of what else to say to him.

"I thought you were more intelligent than this." The iced tone in his voice crystal clear. "It's very disappointing." His words shook too her core and caused a second wind rising within her... or fifth... Frowning she formed her fists to the side.

"Excuse me?! Oh I must've hit my head against the tree a lot harder than I thought!" Which actually was a bit more true than she wanted to admit honestly. "I'm the disappointing one around here?!"

"Going into a fight recklessly with hardly any strength is probably one of the most dumbest things to do!" His voice much louder and commanding than before. Arms crossed against his chest and back standing up much straighter, out of habit to show his authority and power he held.

"Oh and you're the one to judge what I do?! How very hypocritical your majesty!" Connie bowed mockingly so. "Or have you forgotten about what happened the last time we were in a garden!" It was also frustrating since he wasn't looking any more mad than she was in this moment. Which was odd since he was shouting only moments ago. Her words echoed out until they faded away, leaving only tense silence and cold wind. Eyes locked onto one another's. Until he broke their gaze, looking her over and finally back to her eyes.

"I see Pearl has taught you well for combat." Steven finally spoke, breaking the silence, lowering his voice back into a much calmer tone. Connie had just about enough of his mood swings, annoying her about as much as his arrogance. Her anger blinded her to the reality of her legs shaking and the fatigue quickly setting in. 

"Oh no you don't! How dare you sidestep the issue here-" Connie tried to step forward, only to realize her weight wasn't being supported by any strength she had. Which was about nothing. Falling forward she braced herself for the grounds impact. When instead she felt two broad arms holding her up.

Landing against his chest in this moment wasn't entirely ideal in her mind. Steven felt her close presence and the feeling flaring up inside him once more. With an inward and heavy sigh, he lifted her left arm around his neck then supported her back. Leaning down as his other arm wrapped underneath her legs, standing back while picking her up. He could feel her heat from the fight still prominent around her. 

"I won't allow you to remain in my court if you're going to be like this all the time." He stated, walking towards the garden gate near one of the castle's few entrances. 

'So I'm still important to you're special court huh? Funny, I thought you would rather see me drop dead.' Connie thought, too exhausted to even begin to argue with him. Let alone keep her eyes open. Within seconds she had fallen fast asleep, nothing could wake her until her body was well rested.

This was beginning to be more and more like a pattern between the two. It was right in the middle between intriguing and annoying for them both. Steven brought her inside and to her chambers. Once she was settled in her bed, he brought her hand up to his lips. Letting his healing powers take care of any scratches or bruises while easing her pain. Leaving her alone soon after to get back to his own duties.

Hours passed, Lapis, Peridot and Bismuth all took care of watching over Connie. Making sure she was getting enough rest and back to full health. Pearl informed him of any recent activity and updates before leaving to check on other things around the palace. Steven looked upon the earth cluster project and inwardly sighed.

Having already abandoning feelings towards any attachment for the green and blue planet. Focusing more on the project to find a new home planet for the humans. This was all to win a bet. Not as if he cared one hundred percent. However he had to put forth the effort if needed be. Why not go all the way.

Certainly away from HomeWorld and away from any potential danger. However it was a tad tricky. humans needed certain necessities and while they could adapt in his eyes, it was best to find something similar if not better. Fortunately he had someone already on the job. Someone whose, now immortal, life was changed. Smirking he moved his hand across the control pad interface and watched as a diamond shaped camera came into view. Waiting for a connection to be heard from the other line.

'.........'

"Steven?!"

"Lars"

"What do you want?" Lars grumbled through the communication device.

"An update regarding the search for a plant suitable for humans."

"We are already onto the next sector."

"In other words, you have nothing." The hidden implications of that statement couldn't get passed him. Complimenting with a monotone and subtle hint of impatience in his voice.

"Hey it's not easy! That bitch Emerald has been on my tail the entire time!"

"I'm growing tired of your negligence!" Steven shouted loud as the room shook.

"It's hard searching for a planet when your also running away from the authorities!" Lars countered, seemingly not afraid of the person on the other line. Until he saw a flash of pinkish red in his Diamond shaped eyes.

"I could end it all right now." Suddenly more calm than before as a smirk appeared on his face.

"You can get her off my back?" A suspicious expression clearly written in his face.

"Of course, in fact I can just send Emerald the coordinates of where you are. Have her reclaim the ship I let you steal and capture all of you. Though I'm not sure what she will do to... them." Lars froze and gulped, gripping the arm rests of the sun incinerator captain chair. This wasn't the first time he was blackmailed.

But as his eyes darted around the ship's main deck. Watching his crew as they repaired and mapped their next destination (in a way so they wouldn't be discovered). They were more than his crew, they were becoming more like his family. Sighing in defeat, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't" He spoke firmly, trying his best to remain calm.

"You have three months."

"Three months?! But traveling in space takes longer with no functioning hyper drive engines!"

"Or I could contact Emerald now." Steven spoke, hand above the interface. One move and it was all over for them.

"You'll have a planet by then."  He voiced through his teeth. Frustration and anger building up inside him.

"Excellent choice my old friend." He explained before disconnecting the communications. Lars ran a hand over his face, trying to keep from screaming. 

"We were never friends."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days afterwords, Connie was well rested and back on track with her duties. Especially since when she overworked herself she hardly had anything to catch up to. So she took her break and went outside to clear her thoughts. Things were all over the place with her emotions for Steven. Unable to place them in a specific category. One minute he seemed cold and the next minute like who he was before. Well the person he was according to the other gems.

Her heart pounded every time she thought of him. Unable to tell if it was from a sort of comfort she felt towards him or from frustration and fear. Perhaps a mixture of both. Deep within in her mind she began to hallucinate a glowing pure white butterfly. Or thought she was. Swirling around her, grabbing the attention. Connie giggled, smiling and frowning slightly in confusion. "Hey little butterfly, where did you come from?"

The butterfly in question swirled around her once again before flying ahead of her. Stopping ever so slightly as if beckoning her to come. She giggled as this creature had the personality of an excited puppy wanting it's owner to play. Following this mysterious friend of hers, not knowing where she was headed, until they reached a certain door.

Stopping immediately, knowing where this door led. But this flying creature was persistent and like a ghost flew through the door. She gulped and bit her lip, unsure of what to do. Stepping towards the large entrance she placed her hand on the handle.

Once opened she hesitantly walked through. Her eyes widened at the sight, there she saw was looked like to be a beautiful tropical paradise. The trees, shrubbery and all sort of creatures in this ecosystem were full of life. A waterfall was nearby and formed a small lake area with and similar to that of a beach. She smiled from the sight, feeling the sense of her own home in Beach City. Until she felt a hand on her shoulder making her jump.

"Greetings! Oh! I'm sorry I hope I didn't frightened you." A young man, a tad younger than her father, with long poofy black hair, a loin cloth like dress and blue shall vest like material. A brown waistband and purple and pink colored earrings. It didn't take Connie long to figure out he was apart of the human zoo. But he was acting so...normal?

"Oh, no I'm fine, um... what's your name?"

"My name is Wy-six!"

"Um... I'm sorry did you just say Y-6?"

"Yes! It's a special name given to each of us!" Connie was still kinda confused but didn't think about it long when a female with long blonde hair came into view. Dressing the exact same way as the other person. No doubt she knew who these people were.

"Wy-six, who is this new friend?" Connie smiled awkwardly, waving her hello trying to hide her concern a bit. It worked when the woman waved back at her.

"Jay-Ten! Meet my new friend.. um..."

"Uh, Connie." She spoke quickly trying to be polite. "It's nice to meet you... er, J-10 was it?"

"Yes I am Jay-Ten! Nice to meet you Connie. Tell us, where did you come from?"

"Oh well I think I just wandered in here by mistake. I should be leaving now, it was nice knowing you!" While she would've jumped at the chance to save these humans before, something didn't sit quite right with her. It's almost like they don't feel imprisoned. 'Maybe they're putting on a bright smile?'

"What is...mistake?" Wy-six asked in a curious fashion.

"Yes please tell us, Connie." Jay-Ten spoke with eagerness in her voice. Connie froze and smiled. Trying her best to find ways of explaining mistake. Although her gut and red flags were popping up everywhere. The word cult flashed across her mind.

"Um.. well a mistake is an action or judgement that is misguided or wrong." The look on their faces said a lot to her. 'Just like the middle schoolers I tutored.' Opening her mouth to explain again in more simpler terms a voice interrupted her.

"Connie?! What in the world are you doing here??" all three turned to see Greg walking towards them. The others ran off in a sort of angry humph, leaving Connie all alone and even more confused.

"Hi Mr Universe, I actually came here by accident so I think I should just be leaving now."

"Wait hold up" Greg spoke putting a hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to tell me what's going on with my son?" Connie frowned slightly, not liking the fact that she was suddenly his best friend and knew everything about him. 'Shouldn't you be asking Spinel this?' But Steven was his own flesh and blood...and gem. It was understandable for his father to show concern for his boy.

"Forgive me but I don't follow your implication." Greg sighed and showed her the 'Zooman project' in a gem tablet of sorts.

"He was here for a few days. Saying how 'it was time they were needed to be treated like humans, and reintroduce them to earth culture'. Now I think this human zoo project should never have happened in the first place! And getting them back into earth culture officially is way overdue. However it's not like my son to go having a change of heart all at once here." Connie barley could keep up with what he was saying. Her mind not comprehending the apparent truth.

"Wait, you are saying...Steven came up with this idea?" Greg took a step back and raised a brow.

"You mean, you didn't know about this?"

"I didn't think so Greg." A voice popped up, Amethyst walking into view. "Whatssup Connie?" She said smiling.

"Hey, Amethyst. It's been awhile since....um..." Connie realized they hadn't even had a proper conversation since being taken away from Earth three months ago.

"Ya man it has. But I've been busy keeping up all sorts of guard duties and stuff."

"Oh....Well I hope you're doing okay since the....fight?"

"Pshh I should be asking you that question. Oh man Greg you should've seen her! She was fighting so good I almost thought Jasper would poof!"

"I'm assuming by that statement, you saw everything?"

"Uh how could I not! Once I got my 'second wind' so to speak, I ran and watched the entire thing go down! Oh and thanks for keeping me from poofing. Jasper sure would've shattered my gem this time around if not for you."

"You're welcome...." Connie breathed too stunned to think of anything else. Had she really saved Amethysts life that much? After gathering all she knew from her friends and the fight, the reality of that weighed on her more and more.

"So you went head on with Steven's number one solder?" Greg asked before getting elbowed in the gut by Amethyst. Shaking her head out from her apparent shock.

"Just like a rumor, news travels fast around her." Connie spoke in a defeated tone, accepting that fact of this life. "Yes I did fight Jasper... But then he..." Suddenly it became clear to her. When he disappeared, he was actually here planning this the entire few days. 'No wonder he said he was busy, he must've been trying to make time for this.' Besides he was there awfully quick, but fighting beside the human zoo entrance was good luck for her.

"Yeah, we thought you knew what he was planning, though it's not surprising he didn't tell you." Amethyst stated sadly scratching the back of her head. Connie thought of the butterfly that brought her here. 'This must be why it lead me to this place.'

"Um... What exactly is the plan?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"UGH!!!" Spinel shouted. Pushing all the paperwork and a few empty bottles off the table in anger. Glass shattering all over like gems who we're out of line. "I can't believe he's doing all this!" Jasper stood still as Aquamarine and Ruby put together another green, tranquilizing elixir. Spinel breathed deeply and gripped the table. Thoughts whirling in her mind like the circles in her eyes.

"I will shatter her with more pain and torture than that of a lion!" Jasper stated with full determination in his voice.

"No... I think we shall save that for last..." Spinel smiled wickedly as an idea formed in her head.

"Aquamarine! Ruby! Is the old human torture chamber still in good working order?"

"Affirmative Spinel!" Ruby saluted similar to the diamonds but with an upside down heart. "Cleaned off all the red liquid from the previous. Plus I just put in the finishing touches last night!" Then winced when Aqua's wand hit his head.

"You mean we you numb-skull! And that red liquid is called blood. If you're going to mention it just say what it is!" She sighed before flying with her back more straight. "Everything is now in perfect working order. Even better than before when his Diamond used it on the zoomans. All we need is a test subject."

"All in due time. Remember when the opportunity is perfect, that is when we will strike."

"Of course M'lady. In fact I have a certain gem who can help us." Aquamarine smirked, whistling out. "Come on out Topaz!" Two large yellow Topaz's came out from the shadows, forming into one large one. In the process took an empty test tube and forced it to mold into their bodies. though the process was effortless. Like a cage with no way of escape. "And he won't say a word." Spinel was equally pleased.

"Well done Aquamarine, well done." She smiled and rubbed her gloved hands together. Ignoring Aquamarine sticking her tongue out towards Ruby. Jasper just stayed quiet, leaning against the wall with her arms folded. "We do need a trial run... Topaz" She spoke as he turned, saluting and facing her.

"What is it you command, my Spinel?"

"Only one thing. Tonight fetch me a human from the human zoo."

[theseerasures]

counterpunches replied to your post “spoiliors for you know what[[MOR] y’know when i was like “what if...”

helen no

rowanwould replied to your post “spoiliors for you know what[[MOR] y’know when i was like “what if...”

helen maybe?

wow!! guess i have no choice you guys really twisted my arm

i’m drawing, i’m just drawing

i’m remembering something, that’s all

It’s fairly easy to slip away. Anna has a list that drops to the floor of all the things she wants to do with Elsa while they’re together for the weekend, but she’s the queen now, so when the inevitable not-life-threatening-yet-incredibly-urgent crisis materializes (something about cheese?) Elsa just has to reassure her into the room for visiting dignitaries, and then she has at least a few hours to herself.

(Not that she wants to keep what she plans to do a secret, exactly, it’s just...something she wants to try out herself first.)

Her old bedroom looks untouched. Were it not for the conspicuous lack of dust, Elsa would have guessed that no one had set foot in there at all since she’d left it the day of her coronation. There’s her old bureau, the fireplace Father always took pains to light whenever he came to visit, the large glass window she’d spent more than half her life gazing out, ravenous and terrified of the outside world--

But that’s not the way to start this whole thing. The spirits had warned her that reviving memories is a tricky thing--stray feelings could get caught in the crosshairs, she could end up summoning something unexpected, or just irrelevant. There isn’t any reason to get all emotional right now, before she even started, there isn’t any reason to...

Feel.

Right now, Elsa hastily amends to herself as a vivid specter of Anna’s concerned, outraged frown appears in her thoughts. There’s no reason to get all caught up in feeling right now.

Elsa rubs her neck, feeling the telltale sign of a tension headache already blooming there. Right. The goal is just to see what kind of memory the water in this place might be keeping, since she knows it so well, and so much of her magic already marks its walls. She needs to leave herself open to the possibilities here: it could be just her. It could be Gerda dusting. It could be nothing at all--she’s never tried to draw up a memory that might have her in it before.

Deep breath. She’s home and she’s safe, and it’s been more than three years since this room had been the stone on her back.

Elsa finds a place to crouch down, then closes her eyes and begins.

The strain immediately makes itself known. This isn’t a waterlogged shipwreck; the castle is strong bedrock that extends down deep into the earth, and water has to travel obliquely. Still, the traces are there: melted ice leaving stains quickly painted over, cold scars on the ceiling, the corners. She gathers them up, lets them become. Concentrate. Listen.

--know that you have a choice--

“What?” Her eyes fly open. There's a figure coalescing around her old bed--slender, hair in a delicate bun, clad in a dress with a design that Elsa knowsknowsknows

But there isn’t enough water. The figure still looks blurred out, and the room seems spent. When Elsa tries to reach farther, deeper, the water from elsewhere--the garden outside, her own ice spires--tries to answer back, but she brushes them away; she doesn’t want this scene contaminated, doesn’t want it to change, she wants--

Tears drip down her face, and then she gasps as they, too, float up to solidify the form, her own contribution to the memory.

And then her mother is there.

“...know you feel trapped,” Iduna is saying, and as Elsa unconsciously moves closer to the bed she sees that there’s a miniature version of herself on the bed, twelve years old, curled up and facing away.

“I imagine that you feel horribly alone, like maybe...you don’t even belong here, in your own home, with your own family,” Elsa mouths the words in time to her mother’s voice; she remembers this, remembers it now. “But this is your home, Elsa, and--I know you think you have to do this, that you have to shut yourself off all the time, but I want you to know that you have a choice. You do. Your powers don’t have to be a prison, you can use them to help people. And if you don’t want your home--our family--to remain like this, you have the power to change that too. You get a say in how your life should proceed. I want you to know that I believe in you, Elsa, even if you--”

A stop. A sigh. “I want you to try,” her mother continues, “try just letting yourself be, Elsa, instead of hiding. Try thinking that maybe you can do good, maybe more good than anyone else could, because of what fate afforded you, and because you are good, Elsa, and I--”

“Love you,” Elsa whispers, after her mother’s voice in the memory cuts off and fades, “More than anything else in the world.”

In the memory her mother’s hand is reaching down, a hair’s breadth away from touching the braid of her past self. Elsa doesn’t bother sparing a glance down at what her own face looked like back then, stiff and terrified on the bed; she already knows.

Her face in the present is still wet; nil-three for keeping it together with memories of her parents now.

“I thought Papa sent you up here that night because he was tired of dealing with me,” she says. Her voice is steadier than she imagined, steadier and duller. “He usually...handled me, and when you came in I thought...maybe he needed a break. You usually didn’t come in here alone, and I...”

She sucks in a deep, slow breath. “I guess I just always thought that you were afraid of me.”

“Or that you were still mad about what I did to Anna. I didn’t blame you,” she quickly adds, “I couldn’t, not when I--anyway. Papa was always the one who came in to check on how I was doing, on my progress, and I thought that he was...so fearless, for still wanting to stay so close to me. But you...”

There isn’t much of her mother that she can remember in The Intervening Years beyond shadows and parts. A figure in a doorway, a hand on her shoulder, quickly shrugged off before she could do any damage. But that was all life to her in those days; even her father eventually became nothing more than the mantra and pinpricks of expectation. Everything had to be abstracted down to what she let herself see within the four walls of her room, to what she let herself feel within the vice of her heart.

She lets out a tired chuckle. “I guess I had both of you wrong, didn’t I?”

The sound of soft laughter filters through the door. Elsa tenses, but it just fades as whoever it had been walks past. Probably one of the new staff; the castle is so alive now, and it changes all the time.

Elsa reaches out and clasps her ungloved hands to her mother’s. “I am trying, Mother,” she says, and lets the memory crumble away.

[shealynn88]

Are We Human

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: destiel Rating: Teen A/N: Season 5 ficlet, canon-compliant

“I wanted you to see it the way I do,” Cas says in a hushed tone. “I wanted you to feel human, too.” 

on A03

He hands Cas a beer because Sam is away for the night. Because he still wants to feel connected to someone.

“Come outside,” Cas says, taking the beer and walking out the door into the parking lot.

“I...okay,” Dean says, taking a swig as he follows Cas out.

He’s striding across the road, into a field across the street, out into the high grass and God knows why…

Actually, probably not. He’s been pretty quiet lately.

“What are we doing?” Dean asks when Cas finally stops, the motel faded in the distance.

Cas sighs, looking up. “Sometimes I like to be reminded,” he says quietly.

Dean looks up too, but there’s nothing but sky up there. Some clouds. There’s nothing apocalyptic or massive or winged up there. “Of what?” he asks.

“The beautiful things,” Cas murmurs. “The simple things.”

Dean barks a laugh. “Simple. Those were the fucking days.”

Castiel drops. To his knees, folds down, then tips back to lie on the ground, legs still folded under, pressed to one side. He looks messy. Fallen.

Dean follows him down without thinking. “You all right?”

“I am...tired.”

“I’m sorry.” Dean takes a drink and rubs his face. His neck. Sorry will never be enough. Castiel is cut off, cut up, because Dean asked him to be. Because Cas had believed when Dean should have known better.

He lies down in the grass and looks up.

“Orion’s Belt,” Cas tells him. Dean follows the long line of his arm, his index finger. It reminds him of that famous painting. Men on clouds, reaching out. Nearly touching. Almost, but not quite touching. Forever.

Jesus. His whole fucking life in the most dysfunctional nutshell.

Then Dean looks, finally, sees the vastness out beyond that hand, lets Cas guide him through the stars, their distances, the amount of time that has passed between the moment their light was emitted and the moment it touched their faces, met their eyes.

Dean glances over, wondering how much time it takes for light to bounce from Cas’s cheek to Dean’s eyes. How long for Cas to be seen. And if that light ever makes it back to whatever is inside that human vessel he carries around like another trench coat. Comfortable but not quite him.

Dean speaks. “You're something...different.”

Castiel looks at him, uncomprehending.

“I forget, sometimes,” Dean clarifies, and his eyes are on Orion’s shoulders now, the strong stance of him pulling back his bow. “That you’re not human.”

“Do you?” Cas sounds wistful. “I don’t. It never feels quite right.”

Dean reaches out, grabs a sleeve, a finger, a hand. It fits in a way he’s never really allowed himself to imagine.

Not with anyone.

He is a hunter. He is here to fight til his last breath. There is nothing simple or beautiful about his role. Never has been. Battle. Blood. Endings. Pain. Betrayal. Love ‘em and leave ‘em but for God’s sake (not really, He’s bullshit anyway) don’t love them. Not really. Not ever.

Love is for people with futures. People with lives. Love is for people with hope, who haven’t been to Hell and come back dead inside.

“Why did you bring me?” Dean asks. Not up. That was Heaven’s choice. More battles. More death.

But why here? Why this gentleness?

“I think this may be the most human thing I know,” Cas tells him quietly. “To feel small under the stars. To feel small but not...alone.”

Dean can do that. Be Cas’s ‘not alone.’

“I wanted you to see it the way I do,” Cas says in a hushed tone. “I wanted you to feel human, too.”

And that is somehow so much harder.

Dean’s not sure he has that in him anymore. That softer side of Sears sort of got pushed out with the pain, and then the joy of causing pain. So much to atone for and no way to do it, and humanity is sort of...like his appendix, now. Left over, but no longer useful.

His first instinct is to leave Cas in the field, looking up.

But there are fingers tangled with his. That he tangled there. He sort of owes something. Maybe.

“Any tips?” he finally asks.

Cas moves next to him. A shrug. A gulp. A shuffle. Then his head is fitting perfectly in the curve of Dean’s shoulder. “Look,” he says. “And breathe. Breathing is so...human.” He says it longingly.

Dean has looked at the sky. He’s star-gazed before. But to see the Milky Way now, knowing what he knows. Having had the soul torn out of him and then thrust back in...it’s different. Outside looking in. Something gets lost there, when you know how absent the creator behind those stars is. How useless, how careless with His creations.

Cas shows him Canis Major. Ursa Major. Traces the stars at the top to the Little Dipper.

As Dean’s eyes acclimate he sees more. Smaller lights, not so bright. Something that doesn’t look like a star.

“A satellite,” Cas tells him.

Humans have put that there. Way out there in the darkness of space. No help from God or Angels. Just human ingenuity at work.

“That?”

“Mars.”

“Really?” Sam had shown him once, and Dean has nodded and forgotten. It had seemed irrelevant at the time but suddenly it seems important. That it’s not just earth. That there’s more. That he is small, and not the one thing standing between the human race and the end of times.

Even if he is.

They lie there for a long time. Dew gathers cool on their clothes.

Dean loosens his hold on Cas’s hand when his gets sweaty and numb, and Cas shifts away.

It’s not what he meant.

Dean turns on his side and nestles in where he fits, arm to arm, head notched under chin, and Cas’s hand, the one not pinned under him, now, comes around to touch his shoulder. Pull him closer.

Dean whispers, “Am I still…”

He doesn’t finish asking because he doesn’t want to know.

Castiel touches his face, and the sensation is gently electric. Long fingers smooth the line of his cheek, eyebrow, slide back into his hair.

“Human? Of course.” Lips press into his hair. “Don’t you know?” Cas asks, hushed. “Don’t you know how perfectly flawed and stubborn and short-sighted you are?”

He says it as if this is the height of perfection. As if Dean is admirable.

Dean laughs softly. “it’s been said.”

“And don’t you know how wonderfully...human it is?”

“You hate all of that,” Dean reminds him.

Cas looks at him like he’s changed the subject. “But, I’m an...I’m not human.”

As if he doesn’t know what he is anymore.

“What a pair we make,” Dean breathes. It sounds more intimate than he intended. And Cas is much closer than he realized.

“Yes,” Cas says, and his breath is a little uneven. He inches a little bit closer. “I feel...strange,” he says at last.

“Here,” Dean offers, kissing him gently. “Better or worse?”

Cas tips his head, contemplating. “Different. Let me…” he leans in, and Dean meets him again, lips gentle and pressing and asking. Two beings in between, meeting in the middle, somewhere neither of them exactly exist.

Cas’s tongue tastes like water. Then wine. How is it possible that he still tastes pure after everything?

Dean is sure he tastes of sin and ash. That given enough time Cas will choke on him and pull away.

He doesn’t.

“Okay?” Dean asks finally, breathlessly.

“Yes. I feel...not human. But I feel like...someone.”

Dean nods. Yes. Yes, exactly.

They share breath and saliva and gasps and sensations until they’re panting, until they’re smiling and Dean isn’t thinking about fighting for once. “You are,” he says softly. “You are someone.”

“We are,” Cas corrects, and kisses him until the sun rises, and Dean feels seen by the light of the sun (eight minutes and twenty seconds old) and the new light of those blue eyes and whatever lies beneath, and he begins to see things in a new light.

Not human, perhaps. But someone.

[starslikecandlelight]

Chapter 5: Natasha

You hover like a hummingbird, haunt me in my sleep, you’re sailing from another world, sinking in my sea. - Wolves Without Teeth, Of Monsters and Men

AO3 link

Chapters: One / Two / Three / Four

– – –

Two years after the Snap, Natasha Romanov's managed to rebuild her life around a routine.

She goes for a jog right after she wakes up, following the path that leads around the Avenger's compound, and takes the opportunity to make sure that their perimeter is still secure. This is followed by coffee (black), and breakfast (whatever she can scavenge from the kitchen) while she checks the morning's news and catches up on whatever work she's put off finishing the night before. Then it's ballet and the shooting range until she feels in the mood for lunch. More paperwork after her meal, and on the last Friday of the month, she initiates the weekly conference call to the rest of their team before dinner.

Steve has moved out of the Tower some time before - saying that it's easier for him to continue his work helping the survivors if he lived closer to them, but he drops by to forcibly drag her out for food. Sometimes Valkyrie shows up at her door, bearing gifts (alcohol) and claiming that she's been "sent by Thor to make sure that you're still alive", they inevitably end up getting drunk together and always regret it the next morning. Rhodey makes it a point to see her - even if it's for a couple of hours - to drop off his latest reports whenever he can, and even Nebula and Rocket visit whenever they're able to make a quick detour back on Earth before they have to jet off again.

So even as she's left to inhabit the giant, hulking building alone, there's always a constant stream of people dropping in to say hi - and Natasha's not stupid, she knows that Steve probably put them all on some kind of schedule to make sure that she never got too tied up in her work to take care of herself.

But Carol – Carol's the wildcard. She’s promised to attend their meetings whenever she can to exchange news and keep them updated on whatever is happening in the rest of the galaxy, but Natasha can count the number of times she’s actually kept her word on the fingers of her hands. Her visits back to Earth are equally as sporadic, in the twelve months that had gone by since Carol had last visited, she’s been back to Earth exactly once, to follow up on a lead on a job she was involved in. Yet in spite of the disappointment that coils deep in her heart when Carol screen remains blank and empty, Natasha understands, because Carol had once explained to her how time flows differently, especially in deep space, and that it's easy for her to accidentally miss the call when she’s wrapped up in dealing with business, but still –

She misses Carol.

She frets about Carol – a lot more than she does for the rest of her team – all the damn time, and wonders if she’s safe, and if she’s okay, and if she misses Natasha as much as Natasha misses her.

She’s not quite sure how the other woman had managed to worm her way so deeply into her heart so quickly – it had taken her years to learn how to trust Clint, and later, the other Avengers on her team, but somehow Carol had shown up at the compound, bright and effervescent as the Sun, and Natasha can’t help but be drawn to her. There’s something soft in her, under all the bravado and self-confidence and swagger that she carries herself with; Natasha has seen the gentle smile steal over her face when she talks about her god-daughter and her past life on Earth, and she’s wondered, idly, how it would feel like if she were on the receiving end of that look, too.

Her laptop lets out a quiet ding, and she reaches out distractedly and taps at the “One new message” icon flashing insistently at her from the bottom left corner of the screen.

“Ran into Danvers on our way from Moraband.”

Natasha recognises Nebula’s message immediately: short, to the point, and without the long, rambling (and often irrelevant) stories that Rocket likes to embellish his reports with. She pulls up their ever-expanding map of the galaxy, flicking through the planet description (a mountainous, desolate planet with only an isolated native population hostile to any outside forms of contact) before turning her attention back to the rest of the note. “She still has no way to contact Earth, but wants us to pass on a message that she’s fine, and she’ll be back to visit in one Earth-week. Rocket and I are still following up on our earlier lead, and we’ll keep you posted if something turns up.”

She glances at the calendar perched precariously on a tower of her books, then reaches up on an impulse and snags it to make a note in it, trying to quell the excitement already rising in her chest and fight back the smile trying to break free.

And she’ll never admit it, but:

She’s already counting down the hours until she gets to see Carol, face to face again.

– – –

There’s a glare outside her window that makes her scramble to her feet and rush for the stairs leading to the roof, and by the time she throws the doors open, Carol’s already landed, the white glow around her body already beginning to fade away. Natasha runs a critical eye over her – she looks tired, but she’s smiling, so she lets herself relax a little.

Carol is okay.

“Hi,” she begins, and Carol jogs the remaining distance between them to pull her into a hug.

“Hi.”

They pull apart reluctantly, still beaming widely at each other.

“How was – “

“Are you – “

They begin speaking at the same time, and Carol snorts out a laugh as they both stop and wave at each other to carry on.

“How was space?”

“Eh,” Carol shrugs, slinging her arm over Natasha’s shoulder as they head back down towards the kitchen, and Natasha’s heart flutters at the contact. She reaches up to lace her fingers through Carol’s, and is rewarded by a gentle squeeze of her hand. “It was alright.”

“Only ‘alright’?” She asks lightly, and Carol smiles down at her, her brown eyes soft and warm.

“Well, it definitely can’t compare to being back home.”

[efraincrayhorn]

Weasel’s Waylay

21 years ago (Efrain age 15), 3487 AT, The Crayhorn’s Mansion in Itresa.

tw: child abuse, domestic abuse

Efrain wondered, albeit briefly, but not for the first time, if his father would truly notice if he threw the book into the fountain and let the ancient paper disintegrate. “Beguillis’ Bargaining and Banking” held no relevance to Efrain’s interest of study nor did it seem relevant to his inevitable knighthood. The awful and dull book could, however, be used as an incredibly relevant example of irrelevance. His father had ordered him that morning to have it read by the time he returned, and before their guests arrived, and Efrain intended to do so. He always intended to follow his father’s orders, but he also seemed to have a gift for not doing so. 

Some days he wondered why his father fixated so doggedly on his training and research as if Efrain himself held no interest or drive to do it. He’d already secured squireship under one of the few knights more highly regarded than Eobald himself, Sir Torlamarian. He’d even done it by himself and weeks before his fifteenth birthday, which had come and gone with hollow fanfare a few days ago, and he’d done it without prompting from Eobald. Most nobles didn’t even begin inquiring after a squireship until after their birthdays. 

Efrain had nearly burst with pride as he told his father, of how Sir Torlamarian had made him debate ethics, strategy, and humanity with him for him to even consider Efrain, how he’d managed to prove himself and become the ancient elf’s first squire in a century, how he’d done it without ringing his hands or tugging on his shirtsleeve like his father had ordered him not to do. Efrain had done so many things well, perfectly even, and he thought that his father would be proud too. Eobald had only nodded and walked away without a word and quite suddenly the whole affair seemed unremarkable and too difficult. If he’d been more prepared, the debate wouldn’t have been so tough to keep up with and Sir Torlamarian wouldn’t have been so unimpressed at first. Maybe then Eobald would have said something or smiled back. 

He was deep in a daydream, gaze fixed on the fountain in front of him and book laying open and forgotten on his knees, the rest of the Itresa Estate garden fading out, when a rustling snapped him to attention. He felt his shoulders stiffen and his gaze dart to the backdoor as if Eobald himself would be there in all his disapproving glory. Instead, Efrain remained alone. He slumped back to the stone bench with a frown, but straightened as the noise happened again. 

The rustling grew inexorably closer and Efrain leapt up from the bench, heedless of how the book fell. An orange head popped out through the nearby foliage and regarded the young man with disdain. The recent rain had matted the poor thing’s fur and made his face appear skeletal and sickly. Water droplets hung off its whiskers and clung to his ears. Undaunted by Efrain’s defensive stance, the cat ambled up to him and wiped his soaking wet fur across the young half-elf’s pantleg. 

“Hello there,” said Efrain and dropped to his knees in the muddied earth. Eobald would have his head for shirking his research and dirtying his clothes knowing that company was coming, but for the time being the arduous night ahead remained a far-off task and the wily cat demanded his attention. “Where did you wander in from?”

The cat in question bristled at the attention and burbled low in his throat. He looked a wreck and seemed to know it, his discomfort rolling off of him in waves. His paws were near black with dirt and his coat had missing patches and debris stuck in it. Meowing all the while, he let Efrain gently card his fingers through his fur and pick out the larger sticks and brambles. Yellow eyes squinted at him as if trying to see past his skin and bones and into his soul. Efrain didn’t know cats very well, but he figured that was just what cats were like. 

“I suppose you couldn’t tell me even if you wanted to,” he continued, more to himself than to the cat. Eobald had been gone the entire day, and most of the last, and the staff of this house had no interest in the son of a noble. As such, Efrain felt entirely neglected and without a better option for a conversation partner, the cat would have to do. “I can get you clean, though, if you want? Chef Marjorie probably has something you’d eat. What do cats eat? I know you’re omnivores, but maybe cats are picky.” 

Slowly, as to not startle him, Efrain slipped his arms around him and scooped him up as one would a child. The cat first tensed as tight as a bowstring before relaxing into a puddle in his arms. Grime now stained his white shirt across his chest and down his arms. He’d have to be quick. Eobald would be home in only a few hours. 

Without a backwards glance to the fountain or his book, Efrain ducked back inside the hulking mansion and up into his wing of the house. To his surprise, the cat didn’t mind getting washed in his sink nor did he mind the lavender scented shampoo that Efrain found soothing. Luckily, he suffered no wounds and found anything Efrain offered him to eat pleasant enough. It was strange, thought Efrain, as he coaxed the cat out of his nest of now wet towels so he could put them in his laundry, he had always assumed cats to be more finicky. Perhaps this one was just more desperate than the average house cat or more tolerant of Efrain’s bumbling.

He didn’t notice how the afternoon flew by as he tended to the animal, or how long it had taken him to clean the grime from its pelt, and when he finally looked away from the now very clean, very full, and very contented cat, his stomach flipped. 

Outside it looked as if the a god had scooped the ocean up and dumped it over their garden all at once. Water poured from the sky and battered the foliage and dirt into submission. From high up in his bedroom, Efrain watched as the rain pummeled and destroyed the ancient tome he’d forgotten, the ink bleeding out into the grasses and the paper turning to mulch.

Fear curled deep in his stomach as he watched. As he heard the telltale slam of the front door downstairs, the awful feeling crawled into his chest and mutated into stinging apprehension. Efrain hadn’t meant to leave the book outside, but the cat had looked so sad and he had figured he had time to go fetch it. The sky had been cloudless a few hours ago.

Eobald shouted up to him, his words lost and garbled by the many floors and hallways between them. 

Grass-stained knees, wet trousers, and a dirtied shirt were not the products of a day well-spent in research. Neither was the priceless and ruined tome he’d been given guardianship over, but he’d receive hell for that regardless. Now it was time for damage control. 

Efrain had become practiced in the art of quick changes and it only took him until the second time his father bellowed his name from downstairs to be dressed smartly in a new shirt and pant, but he forgot to tuck in his shirt. His muddy boots were discarded on the floor beside his other clothes and his new cleanliness felt akin to armor against the ire already present in his father’s tone. Surely he hadn’t noticed the remnants of the book yet, but he would, and his tone would become the least of Efrain’s worries.

“Stay,” he ordered, voice lacking all assertiveness, and pointed at the feline. “Out of sight, ok?” The orange cat swiped at his leg from his place on the bed and watched as the teenager slipped out of the room like a skulking ghost. 

The cat who was not a cat remained on the boy’s bed, content enough and warm enough not to flee the scene as shouts erupted from downstairs. He heard a bang and perhaps it was furniture, a door, or a fist, but it was unpleasant all the same. He sat some more as the cacophony died down and he listened as the guests arrived. The boy had prattled to him about them all earlier. They were some kind of vapid merchants seeking investments. Faint sounds of dinner, of cutlery and reserved conversation, floated up through the floorboards and the cracks in the masonry. 

As night fell, an oblivious servant entered to start the fire. They took no notice of him and left the moment their task was through. Only then did the cat move to one of the armchairs by the joyous flames and allow the unfamiliar warmth seep over him.

The dinner ended, pleasantries were presumably passed along, and then cavernous silence. A heartbeat passed, and then several more did. The cat knew the sound of a slap when he heard it and heard it he did. He heard no more shouting, but a rumble of a voice far deeper and darker than the boy he’d decided was his droned on for several minutes. Another heartbeat passed in silence, a younger voice asked something, and then a chair skuddled across the floor and all at once Efrain, cheek pink and eyes red-rimmed, returned and shut the door so carefully that it barely made a click. 

He glanced at the cat, offered a wobbly smile, and collapsed onto the bed in a heap. It quickly become clear that he had no intention of removing his boots or shifting position. The cat rejoined him on the bed, his movements slow and laborious.

What did cats do to their young? Or their friends? The cat didn’t know if cats had friends or if they even bothered to do anything with them if they had them. He should probably do something though and offering a shelter, a literal one like Efrain had offered him, was sadly impossible. 

The young man shifted from his stomach to his back but did nothing else. He simply stared at the ceiling. His thoughts stayed caged and chained in his mind and the cat doubted that he’d ever offer the key to anyone. His chest tremored as he breathed. In through the nose, slowly, and out through his mouth somehow even slower. In and out, over and over. 

The cat wasn’t sure why he did it, but he’d found in recent months that whatever instincts he had, whether they were feline or not, could prove helpful and he’d begun to rely on them. 

He stepped, without grace or tact, onto Efrain’s chest and collapsed in a heap. He could feel the too-fast beating of his heart echo through his own bones and he felt how the boy stiffened at his sudden weight. He wished he knew how to purr, but it was a cat skill he’d yet to master, and so he stayed silent and let the crackle of the fire and the other being’s shaky breath fill the silence. After a moment the boy dragged his fingers idly through his fur and after an hour of hiccuping breaths he fell asleep.

The cat stayed on his chest until he was forced off by the shifting of the half-elf, but he stayed by his side to him until the wee hours of the morning. The cat thought all through the night and came to one conclusion: he would stay by this boy’s side whether he liked it or not.

[mz-hide]

Trick Of Might - Chapter 2

Aka: a Dragon Ball Z slash fic.

Chapter 2

Goku has a disturbing nightmare. Vegeta has a good, bad time.

Summary: An ancient enemy makes a sudden comeback into Goku’s life. Long-suppressed memories surface again and it’s no longer possible for the young saiyan to ignore them. Warnings: Dubious Consent, (because of drug use) Ships & Pairings: Bulma/Vegeta, Goku/Vegeta, Goku/Turles, Goku/Turles/Vegeta, Turles/Vegeta, Raditz/Turles, Nappa/Turles, Nappa/Raditz/Turles Contains: Threesome - M/M/M, Group Sex, Polyamory, Aphrodisiacs, Secret Crush, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Love Triangles, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Biting, Scratching, Boners All Around, Feral Behavior, (just a tiny bit), Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Content

You can find the rest on my AO3 page (username: originalmonkeyhydes)

Blows fell heavy from everywhere. The chase was urged too rapidly for him to react. Fists were alternated with jabs and with kicks. He couldn’t follow nor evade them. His body moved too clumsily, his reactions were too slow. He was completely at the mercy of his opponent. At some point he thought he’d found a chance to counter, but the other warrior disappeared from view faster than what he thought possible. Before he could do anything, a knee hit him hard in the stomach, making him bend forward and loose his breath. A kick followed rapidly, hard enough to lift him off the ground. He only had the time to catch a glimpse of his enemy’s grin before he was hit again, on the back. The power of this last blow hurled him downwards. He hit the ground hard. The impact dug a deep hole in the wood of the tree, burying him underneath a pile of debris. The pain was deafening. He let himself slip sideways and fall into a split between the roots. He was paralyzed. His head, his arms and his back throbbed from the scraping and the numerous wounds. For a long, terrible instant, the only thing he felt in his legs was a deaf numbness. He couldn’t get up, his limbs seemed to give up on him, refusing to support his weight. “What the matter, Kakarot? Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve got.” Another kick made him roll on his back. He screamed, feeling his ribs threaten to crack. He opened his eyes. He struggled to get them to focus on the approaching enemy. Turles stood before him, gifting him with a mocking grin. “I’m going to ask you one last time, Kakarot, and I won’t take a no for an answer. Join me. You can take your son with you, if you want. Together we can conquer the entire galaxy, like true saiyans. We’ll be unstoppable!” “Never!” His voice sounded chocked, his throat ached. “I’m not like you, I’m not a true saiyan! The Earth is my home and it’s where I will stay!” Turles’ look hardened. The pirate’s hand curled among his hair and banged his head against the bark of the tree. Goku screamed. His ears were ringing impossibly loud. When the colorful spots that had blinded him faded, he saw Turles’ face extremely close to his own. A cruel smile ignited his features with a light that was all but reassuring. “It means that I won’t have any other choice but destroying your beloved planet and leave you no other choice then to join me. And then you’ll finally be mine, Kakarot…” Before he could do or say anything more, the dark lips of the pirate were on his, bloodied and already disclosed by ragged breaths. A molten hot tongue slipped into his mouth. When he recovered from the shock and realized what had just happened, he instinctively bit down. Turles swiftly pulled away, like he’d been burned by an open flame. From his broken lip blood dripped down onto his chin. The renegade saiyan touched the new cut and looked back up at him, incredulous. Then, to Goku’s immense astonishment, the dark saiyan began to laugh with sincere amusement, licking away the thick drops of blood that kept spilling from his mouth. “Oh yes… Sooner or later you will be mine, Kakarot.”

Goku woke up with a startled gasp, jumping up to a sitting position. HIs eyes darted from side to side, meeting the familiar walls of his bedroom instead of the ostile maze of roots. Next to him, instead of an enemy ready to jump him, lied Chi Chi, sleeping soundly and facing away from him. In the silence of the night the fast thrumming of his heart seemed to be the only sound. Goku ran a hand across his face. It was just a dream, he told himself. His eyes instinctively went to the dark skies outside his window. The countryside air was clear that night and the stars burned eerily bright. But why did I dream of that moment? No matter how hard he’d tried to dismiss them, his newly awakened memories kept cursing through his mind. He remember that moment well, possibly the only instant of his fight with Turles his friends hadn’t witnessed. He could remember it as clear as ever. He recalled how, once the initial shock had subsided, he had given that gesture little thought. His only focus had been the fight. He could have also told himself that the memory of that kiss had been just a trick of his adrenaline-clouded mind. Yet, he couldn’t convince himself completely, no matter how hard he tried. He could doubt his mind, but his gut never lied. He brought a hand to his lips. It had all come back clearly now, all those things he hadn’t thought about in years. He could still conjure up the taste of the dark saiyan’s blood - his velvety tongue - in his mouth and the indecipherable tone of his voice, half threatening, half dreaming. Goku asked himself what it had all meant and found himself fighting a strange uncomfortableness once again. He needed to cast those thoughts aside. Goku got up from the bed, slipping out of his pajama and into his training gi. He exited from the window, silent as a feather, flying away above the dark treetops of the forest. If there was something that could have used to distract himself was training. The solution to his problem was easy, after all. The young saiyan had never been one for thinking too much, after all. It had always been pure instinct to guide him and he could never remember a time where that had backfired on him. Yet, even with his mind emptied of unsettling thought, instinct still prompted him to raise his eyes to the sky. He couldn’t look anywhere else.The twinkling of the stars was almost hypnotizing. Despite not being able to perceive that strange aura, something inside him knew there was something up there for him to feel. It was something Goku couldn’t name but it told him he was never going to get it out of his system if he hadn’t gone to the end of that story. Then, he caught a purple glimmer far into the dark depths of space. It was entirely probable that it had just been a deceiving glare, a trick played on him by Earth’s atmosphere on his eyes. Though, the warrior didn’t waste a second thinking about it. True or not it was irrelevant. He knew now what exactly what he was going to do. The youth brought two fingers to his forehead and disappeared into the shadows of the night.

“Don’t you dare!”, the woman cried out between moans, instinctively jumping up to admonish her lover as soon as she felt his teeth grazing her skin. Vegeta grunted his dissatisfaction, grudgingly sinking his face and his fangs in his pillow, longing for the fragrant scent of her skin that he’d been compulsorily forbidden to break. He found himself clenching his teeth onto feathery softness instead, feeling the warm body beneath him move with the thrusting of his hips. It had taken him a long time to resist that instinct but there was no amount of time that would have sufficed to suppress it completely. He knew that. It was in is blood, after all. It was a primordial hunger the human woman could have never been able to sate fully, even if she’d let him violate the ivory crook of her neck. That was a concession the beautiful scientist didn’t seem to be willing to give him after the previous few painful experiences. Yet, that was a deprivation the prince would have had to endure if he wanted to keep enjoying that curvaceous, willing body. His lover didn’t seem to care for his denied needs. She was moaning and whimpering underneath him - a well-earned symphony to his ears, a welcome balm for his pride-, her flesh twitching delightfully around him. Vegeta tried to focus on that, instead of his sulking. One of his hands slipped underneath the woman’s stomach, his calloused palm grazing the soft curve of her groin until his fingers found what they aimed for, nestled into silky dampness. He confirmed for himself that he could still put his digits to good use, despite the difference in strength with his companion. Making her shiver and gasp like that with so little pressure was endlessly endearing to him. He’d been lucky to have found someone who could let him indulge in such wanton carnality. Bulma was once again lost in her own sensations, undisturbed by the Prince’s longing for the taste of her blood. How he would have longed to sink his teeth into her… Each day that passed convinced him that she might have been deserving of it. Yet, even so, it wouldn’t have done him any good. Dammit… dammit all to hell! His frustration soon became her pleasure once it translated into faster, harder thrusts. He kept it up until she finally cried out loud, the delicious tightening of her flesh bringing him to his own orgasm. He took a few seconds to collect himself before sitting up and getting off the bed the woman still lied on, blissed out and panting. Glistening drops of sweat gathered along the seductive curve of her back and her flushed, moist sex, perfectly visible between milky thighs. Vegeta had had his difficulties adjusting to the woman’s lack of a tail and her inexplicable habit of systematically remove body hair, even from places which - in his opinion - were more alluring with rather than without hair. However, he had to admit that the plump morbidity from the pregnancy had made his improbable lover even more attractive to him than before. The smooth, soft fullness he embraced at night was enough to make up for the last of hair. No matter how pleasant that sight was, however, he didn’t stared too long. After Trunk’s birth it had been easier for him to accept the idea of sharing Bulma’s bed with a certain regularity, even if they both kept avoiding any serious involvement. After the misunderstandings and the fights that had followed, Vegeta’s departure and his return, between them was in force a sort of silent agreement. Discussing the undeniable attraction between them was as pointless as it was trying to change the occasional nature of their relationship. Therefore, the saiyan had preferred to keep a certain distance that allowed him to be around the woman avoiding discomfort. Among the implicit rules of their precarious couple dynamic, there was one about sharing the bed just for some specific activities. Sleeping wasn’t included. Vegeta liked to have a bed of his own for that. In that specific occasion he was eager to regain his own space with a certain haste, in case his lover had the intention to bring up the potential biting accident they’d barely managed to avoid. However, he failed to leave the room in time. “Wait!”, the woman called with a shaky voice, still panting and dizzy, and gestured in the direction of the bathroom, “At least clean yourself up a little before you leave. What would happen if my parents saw you wandering around like that?” Vegeta had noticed several cultural differences between human and saiyan culture, but there were levels of decency shared by both. He listened to the woman’s suggestion and entered her bathroom to clean himself up. At that point he possessed a certain familiarity with her shower to know how it worked. As he was drying himself up he heard the ringing of a communication device from the other room and Bulma’s sigh as she got up to answer the call. The prince immediately lost interest for what was going on in the other room. He didn’t have the habit to eavesdrop, even when it came to his lover’s conversations. Yet, he couldn’t help but overhear as the other’s tone rose with apprehension. “Goku did what?!”, the scientist exclaimed, “Are you sure, Gohan?” Vegeta walked into the bedroom again, the towel hanging around his neck. Bulma was holding the receiver precariously between her cheek and shoulder as he hurriedly picked up the clothes she’d previously scattered around the room. It was obvious that something must have happened. Not that he cared for that idiot, but the fact that Bulma hadn’t even cast a glance in his direction was not good. Especially for his pride. “Of course you can. I’m not sure I understand exactly what’s happening… But yes, if it can help, I’ll do what I can. I’mm get to work immediately. It’ll take a while… but with a little luck I’ll try to be done by the time you get here.” She glanced in his direction. The prince had the distinct impression that the “little luck” she’d just mentioned might have had something to do with him. Another bad sign. Just as it was bad that apparently it had been Kakarot’s runt to call that late at night. It didn’t take a genius to come to the conclusion that something bothersome had happened. The warrior got dressed. Something told him he’d better be in operation order in a short while. “Vegeta”, the woman uttered slowly after hanging up the call, “I promise I will build you another one as soon as I can.” “Care to elaborate better?”, the prince demanded, despite the fact he knew he’d already guessed the answer. “Gohan and Piccolo need to take the ship. I know that it’s technically yours because you use it for training, I but I was the one who built it and… and I shouldn’t even be here asking your permission! There’s an emergency and my friends need a lift. I’m taking the ship!” Before he could return, Bulma had already jumped up and left the room. The two of them sure seemed to share the same strategies to avoid discussions, after all. Though, that was hardly the time to indulge in that kind of comparisons. “What kind of emergency?”, he demanded, following her. The situation was utterly irksome. Not only he was going to loose the space he used to train soon, now he had to chase the woman to know the reason why he was forced to suffer that deprivation. Furthermore, he had a bad feeling about that whole situation. “Apparently, King Kai warned Kami, Kami warned Piccolo and Piccolo told Gohan that- Oh, it doesn’t matter. There was a lot of word-to-mouth involved. Anyway, apparently Goku had a great idea and disappeared without warning anyone. Gohan says he used the instant-transmission to get to some nearby planet to check on I-don’t-know-what. I’m not sure I understand what his exact intentions are. I think it has to do with some kind of tree or something.” Those words made Vegeta’s ears prick up. “Did he say a tree?”

He didn’t need more than a second to understand what kind of tree stood before him. The sight in front of him sufficed to completely bring back the memories of the first time he’d laid his eyes on that monstrous plant. It had been years since then, but he knew he couldn’t be mistaken. It was the tree of might. The planet’s surface was hidden by a tortuous grid of roots, pulsing slightly with the energy they were absorbing from progressively deeper layers of the planet’s core. While the planet was facing his progressive extinction, the alien plant that was consuming it showed no sign of decline. If anything it was thriving. The tree looked darker but creepily more luxuriant than the what it had been on Earth. It was a lot chunkier in its proportions, though that didn’t diminish its magnificence. The imposing obsidian trunk split into chaotic bundles of branches that sustained an impressive amount of foliage. Dark leaves seemed to avidly absorbed the little crepuscular light of the tiny, faraway star the planet revolved around. Undoubtedly, hadn’t it been for the heat dispersed on the surface by the action of the tree, the planet would have been almost unbearably cold. Yet, somehow, the pleasant heat stirring in the incredibly humid air was made even more ominous by this notion. The planet probably didn’t have much longer to live. Not that it would have mattered, anyway. It looked deserted and uninhabited, after all. Goku had no reason to care for the destructive action of the tree, even though he couldn’t help but notice how much more advanced the stage of of it was compared to what he’d seen on Earth. The thought reminded him of something; he didn’t see any fruit anywhere, just some blossoms glowing dimly with a faint, crimson light. Even though they contributed to making the atmosphere even more eerie, their presence might have been a good sign, after all. I don’t remember seeing flowers like these when the tree took roots on Earth, he ruminated, looking about the place. The last time the tree grew at a monstrous rate and started producing fruits almost immediately. Here there’s none. Seems to me like there’s never gonna be some either. The roots had already completely encased the entire planet and there was no more space for them to grow any further, nor more energy to absorb. Once the core had been drained from all power, the tree would have died along with it. Those blossoms would have withered too. They looked at the end of their growing ciclo anyway. Their petals were full and engorged. In their centre they contained nothing but a hollow socket where a thick, crimson sap gathered. No sign of fruits nor anything that might suggest their future presence whatsoever. Plus, more importantly, no sign of the person that, long before, had caused Goku to get acquainted with the power those fruits actually carried within themselves. The young saiyan’s eyes grew dark below borrowed brows. It was true. There was no clue that might have suggested Turles’ involvement, least of all proof that he’d survived and that he was on that planet in that instant. Even if he had been alive, and the tree had been his plan, it seemed like he’d failed in his intent. Indeed, now that he though about it, planting the tree on such a puny planet felt like a plan destined to fail. It was clear even to Goku, who didn’t really know all that much about the Tree of Might. Yet, that was exactly what arose his suspicions. The fact that he couldn’t properly sense energy did nothing but enhance his apprehension. It sure would have been easy to conceal a power level, even a significant one, in that infernal landscape, where conspicuous waves of energy move constantly, coursing through twisted roots all around… There was no reason for him to linger further on that doomed planet. But there was no reason not to either. And the youth wanted to silence his fears once and for all. The warrior flew off again, his eyes sharp and focused, following the flow of energy towards the place where it was gathering. He headed for towards the trunk of the tree.

[c4p3n]

The Art Museum

I wrote this for the Wake County Library writing contest and I was pretty happy with how it came out. We had a really limited word count and it was fun to write with those restrictions. Alas, I was not selected as 1st, 2nd, or 3rd place in my age group. I guess there's always next year. --- He liked to take his runs at the art museum park. It felt like multitasking, the most popular lie millennials tell themselves. Taking in culture while expelling calories was the antithesis to his day job of trying to convince a computer to do what other people wanted. So he pounded his feet down the paved path winding through sculptures and benches and trash cans.

There is one piece that always shows up in pictures. It's the first one you notice and the first thing you stop noticing after enough visits. He just called them the 3 brown rings. They made for a nice waypoint but he never knew what they meant to the artist, whoever they were.

Today he saw them steaming with morning dew. 2 story rings made of hardened earth, they appeared to be buried just enough to keep them standing. As he trotted up, they seemed as good as any companion in a social media Proof Of Life post. He had been secluded for months and felt the need to show family and friends that he still got out and did things. Healthy things even. He was fine, really. Don't worry.

He leaned his phone against the first ring to the left of the path. With the camera pointed at the other two rings, he started the timer and jogged over to the last ring, passing through the middle one on his way. He turned back to look at the camera and struck a pose he hoped conveyed the opposite of loneliness.

As a flash warned that time was up, an arc of light shot from the phone to the air in the center of the ring. Before he could start wondering if that had really happened, he had to start wondering why a spaceship was hurtling toward him.

When he awoke, what he noticed first were the sounds. A bunch of beeps having an unwinnable argument. These faded to the background, overtaken by what he would soon find out were two voices. Right now one sounded like a barrel full of rocks rolling downhill. The other was a garden hose being dragged across dead leaves in late autumn.

As his eyes adjusted he found himself in a cockpit of sorts. Bigger than one on a plane, because he was lying on a cot folded out from the wall. In addition there were two chairs behind a whole array of blinking lights, the origin of the beeps. Beyond those, a half dome of clear glass that allowed him to see the unending light show of space whizzing by. It was a dizzying, frightening array of purples, blues, pinks and greens, twisting and smearing across the glass. It caused him to notice the two aliens much later than he normally would have.

They were standing a few feet from his cot by the door to the rest of whatever this was. The one facing him noticed he had awoken. With that many eyes, how could they not? His first communication with an alien species was less than impressive.

“Who is this?”

Later, he wouldn’t be sure what he meant to say. The being perked up at the sound and started fiddling with a screen on their wrist. They looked up and responded, the crunching of dead leaves now overlapped with a digitized translation.

“Hello, and please do not move. We are not authorized to give medical assistance, and we are not liable for any injuries you sustained while boarding the ship.”

The other alien turned around and widened their two eyes, then narrowed them again to look at the first alien.

“You have to speak in their language if the computer recognizes it. Those are the rules”

Some rock-like grumbling and wrist fiddling, then:

“There, happy? Now they will know the exact right time to attack us!”

“That has never happened.”

"You don't know that!"

“Please tell me where we are. Anything.” The man had ruled out dreaming when his head started aching from the flashing lights and sounds. He wanted to learn something that would make him feel less than completely powerless over his predicament.

He didn’t.

“You are aboard an Interplanetary Alliance Transit Ship. We...found you on the route of this ship when it slowed to replenish oxygen for our passengers.”

“Other humans are on this ship?”

“Maybe, but doubtful. There are no stops on Earth. But there are passengers who need oxygen to maintain vital functions, and Earth is on the route.”

“We’ll probably use that station for another hundred years, but at the rate you earthlings are going it won’t be the best source of oxygen on the route for much longer.” This was said by the alien who didn’t want to use English.

He started to feel sick from the sheer torrent of new information being thrown at him.

“So who are you two? Conductors?”

“I am ITA Pilot 31420.” They looked expectantly back at the other alien, who was not forthcoming.

“That is ITA Pilot 40119. We are both recent recruits to the Interplanetary Transit Authority.”

Pilot 31420 couldn’t keep the excitement from rising in their voice while mentioning this last part.

“Do you not have names?” Despite the surreal circumstances, he couldn’t pass up a chance to learn what a couple of aliens answered to when called for space supper.

“We are not allowed to give out our names to passengers. It is against the rules.”

40119 let out a gravelly sigh.

“We’ve told the earthling enough. We haven’t figured out what we are going to do with them.”

31420 looked crestfallen as they turned back to 40119.

“Was I the only one reading the handbook those nights we stayed up studying?”

He thought he saw a brief wave of guilt pass across the surly alien’s features.

“It clearly states that we keep any pickups, stowaways, or mistakenly loaded sentient freight onboard until the ship returns to their home planet.”

He briefly wondered into which category they had sorted him. Irrelevant. Focus on the problem.

“Ok so I just stay put until the ship completes a loop then? How long until we come back around to Earth?”

Excitement returned to 31420's face as they started tapping again at their wrist.

“This is one of the newer ships in the fleet, an ITA-XJ4, so it can complete the route in record time. We should be back to Earth in...”

They gave one final decisive tap and looked at the man with a grin. A monotone voice emanated from their wrist.

“Two. Earth. Years.”

At the sound of the third word, his heart bounced off his stomach.

“No. No. No I can’t be here for -“

An insistent klaxon cut through his voice. The two pilots turned to the immense console, then to each other.

"I thought you-" cried both in unison. They raced to the source of the problem on the instrument panel.

"Why didn't you refill our oxygen while I was hauling the earthling onboard?"

"I had to give the passengers a reason why we were stopped so long. I thought you started refilling!"

"What did you tell them?"

"That we were...filling backup oxygen tanks."

"Blix! You can't be serious." The man thought he was learning the name of one pilot when in fact it was a swear word the wrist computer refused to translate. He saw an opportunity and jumped.

"31420, Blix, just calm down and listen. We can go back to Earth, refill on oxygen, and you can drop me off. No one gets in trouble, no one dies, and we all pretend this never happened."

Pilot 40119 was appalled to hear an earthling insult them and and lay out a plan to save them all in the same sentence. The pilots conferred for a moment before turning back to the man. Both their faces had turned quite solemn. The alien who was not Blix held up their wrist computer, the screen turned towards the man. A series of lights issued from the screen, filling his vision. Then blackness.

He awoke on the grass under the arch of a brown ring. His back was wet with dew. It was very late. He rolled on his side and saw several empty beer bottles scattered next to him. He picked one up and read the label. "Earth Beer" it said in a simple font over a photo of Earth taken via satellite, or spaceship. He smiled, knowing he would never tell anyone and wondering if this was all in the handbook.

He walked over to the single ring across the path. Somehow his phone lay right where he left it that morning. He picked it up and the harsh light of the screen hurt his eyes. Deja Vu. It was later than he thought. He swiped up out of habit.

Zero notifications.

[dapperfvck-arc]

RULES.  repost, don’t reblog. tag ten whatever. TAGGED BY: @britishspider TAGGING.everyone

BASICS.

FULL NAME. John Constantine (Idek if he has a middle name tbh) NICKNAME.  Conjob, The Laughing Magician,  AGE.   usually default him to his mid to late forties BIRTHDAY. May 10 ETHNIC GROUP.  caucasian NATIONALITY.  English LANGUAGE.  English SEXUAL ORIENTATION. bisexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS. defaults as single CLASS. born working class, blue collar, but it’s much more complicated. I’d say he ranges from poverty level to well off depending on his situation HOME TOWN / AREA. Liverpool, England CURRENT HOME. continuity or verse dependent/London, England PROFESSION. con artist, exorcist 

PHYSICAL.

HAIR. pale blonde EYES. electric blue NOSE. very dependent on artist. Usually drawn as rather narrow FACE. rugged, a bit sharp featured in the nose and cheekbones, strong jaw LIPS. a bit wide, full lower lip COMPLEXION. rather pale BLEMISHES. not really SCARS. One over an eye, the others (head canon) are ritualistic scarification. TATTOOS.  Referring to the scars, the scarification were once tattoos but the ink faded out, also has one one his left buttock because Swamp Thing is petty. HEIGHT. 5′11 WEIGHT.  150 lbs BUILD.  lean, not terribly muscular but fit enough FEATURES. handsome but not outrageously so. Could be easily lost in a crowd. ALLERGIES. none USUAL HAIR STYLE. bed head usually. Occasionally clean cut USUAL CLOTHING.  suit, either dark blue or black, standard tie, often a striped red and white design, trenchcoat, predominately portrayed as a tan color, but also sometimes as black or an olive green.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR. Irrelevancy ASPIRATION. Survival and somehow making a mark on the world POSITIVE TRAITS. deviously intelligent, personable, determined NEGATIVE TRAITS. deeply cynical, selfish, manipulative VICE HABIT. heavy smoker FAITH. it’s complicated GHOSTS? Yep AFTERLIFE? Yep REINCARNATION? Maybe. ALIENS? Maybe. POLITICAL ALIGNMENT. Not real sure. He doesn’t seem to involve himself much in politics, though he’s very opinionated. Ideals tend to run very liberal and socialist  ECONOMIC PREFERENCE. Enough to get by. He doesn’t seem that concerned with money so long as he can furnish his vices and has a roof over his head SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION. none EDUCATION LEVEL. dropped out of secondary school. No higher education.

FAMILY.

FATHER. Thomas Constantine (murdered) MOTHER. Mary Anne (died at John’s birth) SIBLINGS. sister, Cheryl (murdered by husband) EXTENDED  FAMILY. Niece by the name of Gemma Masters (alive but somewhat estranged) NAME MEANING.  John: Jehovah has been gracious, Constantine: The Constant One HISTORICAL CONNECTION. Can trace his bloodline to Constantine the Great, as well it’s infamous for producing the Laughing Magician, a wizard/witch of great power that is largely considered an agent of balance between earthly and preternatural planes

FAVOURITES.

BOOKS. Mostly non-fiction MOVIES. not much, mostly documentaries, trash movies, and pretty much anything but horror. When it comes to film he tends to lean toward lighter fare. Doesn’t care for sci-fi. MUSIC. various genres of rock music, most notably punk  DEITY. none HOLIDAY.  none MONTH.  November SEASON.  Fall PLACE. London (Alternately New York) WEATHER. Moderate SOUND. A homey local pub noise SCENT.  linen, citrus, some floral scents TASTE. first cigarette of the day, more explicit things.... FEEL. skin on skin ANIMAL. fox NUMBER. doesn’t have one COLOR. not sure he has one, though seems to be attracted to earth tones

EXTRA.

TALENTS. trickery, magic, rolling gargantuan joints BAD AT. taking care of himself, being happy, keeping friends TURN ONS. intelligence, clever banter, butts, being wanted TURN OFFS. hmmm...good question. There aren’t a lot of deal breakers. Wanton murder? HOBBIES. reading, drinking, socializing with friends TROPES. occult detective AESTHETICS.  ancient tomes, arcane symbols, smoke, fog, sunset, dark alleys, rumpled sheets

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC. Ewan McGregor ALT  FC. - Keanu Reeves (film verse) OLDER  FC.  none YOUNGER  FC. - Ewan McGregor VOICE  CLAIM. Jason Stathem