#(just in case the crystals part comes off as being body horror to anyone with the extent of it) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

navegandoaciegas · 4 years ago

Text

Crybaby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader (College AU)

Warnings: smut, ass fingering, orgasm denial, humiliation, lots of talks about panties.

Summary: You catch Bucky trying to steal your panties on laundry day.

A/N: this is partly @buckycuddlebuddy ‘s fault tbh. Enjoy some desperate, horny Bucky. Minors DNI.

The timer on the dryer unit you’d occupied went off, signaling that your weekly load of laundry was dry and ready. Bucky cast a nervous glance around the eerily empty room, fingers twitching in the front pocket of his hoodie.

He knew it was wrong, but his laundry was done too (just a coincidence, really, not like he’d wake up at 3 am on a Monday because he knew you did your washing around that time), and you weren’t there yet. You usually retrieved your load in the morning anyways.

Just a peek, he reasoned. Out of curiosity. You wouldn’t even realize they were missing, and if you did you’d chalk it up to the washing machine eating your clothes.

You’d show up to class on Tuesday and sit next to him while he’d be wearing your pretty lace panties and you’d be none the wiser.

Fuck, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

He dug in your laundry, sifting through mascara stained washcloths and an endless amount of oversized t-shirts, until he found what he’d been looking for.

Small, so tiny in fact that he wondered how your lips could fit in them. He groaned -the idea of your pussy hanging out of the material made his cock twitch, and brought the panties to his face, rubbing his nose all over the lace. He’d fantasized of burying his face between your legs all semester long, and this seemed close enough, the closest he could get to you anyways.

They seemed stretchy, and he hoped he could manage to stuff himself inside them.

“Didn’t peg you for a panty sniffer, Barnes.”

The world stilled around him, the ring in his ears so loud that he wondered if you could hear it too.

He was so engrossed in his creeping, that he hadn’t heard the door open and click shut, nor your steps as you walked behind him, or the slight groan that the washing machine behind him emitted when you settled on it, swinging your legs.

Slowly, he turned around, your lace panties still tightly clutched to his chest.

You almost chuckled at the sight of his bulging eyes and gaping mouth. Almost.

“That- it’s not- not how it looks like- I-”

“What, you were gonna fold my laundry for me? How considerate,” you sneered, but the look on your face was far from disgust.

Derision, sure, but not disgust. The mischievous interest in your eyes sent chills down his spine, not necessarily the good kind.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, anticipating whatever consequence his actions would have.

“You do this often?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, naked legs still swinging over the washing machine.

Bucky couldn’t find the words, and honestly the gall, to speak, so he just shook his head vehemently, shuffling on his feet.

“Hm, you like sniffing ‘em?”

He remained unmoving, too humiliated to do anything.

“Oh, I got it,” you beamed, pointing a finger at him and squinting your eyes, “You like touching yourself with pretty panties, hm? Like using them to fuck your dick, and cum all over ‘em?”

He wanted to answer, tell you to fuck off and sprint away to hide in his dorm for the rest of his life, but honestly he deserved this and so much worse. He almost considered dropping out of college entirely, but that glint in your eyes kept him anchored to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on his white sneakers, “I-, I promise, I never done it before, I don’t know why-, look I won’t do it again, I swear,” he pleaded, tears pooling in his crystal eyes and threatening to stream down his face.

You cooed, honest to God coeed, a mocking pout on your lips.

You should have left, and reported him, but those pretty tears of his, the tremble in his voice, the stuttered pleas, only served to spur you on, a familiar warmth building up in your core.

“I bet if word got out of this, no one would want to hang around the resident creep anymore. Good luck getting girls then. Although, well, I don’t think you get too many under normal circumstances, do you?” you snorted, “That would be embarrassing, hm? Wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He found himself shaking his head, trying to swallow the lump in his throat to avoid giving you any more reason to mock him.

“It’s your lucky day then, because I have no intention to tell anyone,” you announced, stepping down to lean against the machine, arms crossed over your stomach.

“You- you don’t?” he wondered.

The notion should have elated him, but he felt himself growing more uneasy and confused with the smirk on your face.

“Won’t tell anyone if you don’t. Cross my heart,” you laughed, making a show of placing a hand on your chest.

He eyed you suspiciously. “Why?”

“Where’s the fun in that, Barnes? I wouldn’t enjoy bullying you if I’m not the only one doing it,” you chirped, “That doesn’t mean that my forgiveness should come for free, tho.”

His breath hitched, and you followed his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down his throat.

You could feel the control in your grasp, panties getting wetter with each one of his tears.

“I’ll do anything,” he swore, and you almost wished he’d fall on his knees and beg.

“Anything you say, huh?” you paused, “Strip,” you commanded, leaning back against the washing machine.

Bucky furrowed his brows and looked up in confusion, then disbelief, finally embarrassment. “Wh- what? But, but what if someone sees, I-”

“Then you better hurry.”

“But I-”

“You fuckin’ heard me the first time.”

He was startled into action, hands hastily pulling at his hoodie and jeans until he was standing in nothing but socks and underwear.

“I’m not gonna repeat myself again.”

He gulped visibly, and hesitated before hooking his fingers around the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down his legs.

He blushed harder, ducking his head.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, and the mouthwatering sight of it had you reconsidering Bucky Barnes and all your life choices during this semester.

He was glistening in pre cum, painfully hard and veiny, and definitely thick enough that fitting it inside your cunt would be hard work on both parts. You imagined taking him in your mouth, how you would definitely choke around his girth, and your jaw would be sore for days.

Not today, though. Bad boys did not get that kind of privilege.

You bit your lips, and Bucky fought the impulse to squirm under your intense gaze.

“Something wrong?” he rasped out, praying for the ground to open up and swallow him whole in case you found him too small, too crooked, too hairy.

You snorted, eyebrows raised skeptically. “Yeah, babe, the fact that I haven’t seen you naked before. You been hiding all this,” you eyed his crotch suggestively, “from me all this time?”

“T- thanks,” he stuttered, offering you a small smile, eyes trained on the ground. He tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered when you called him an endearing term, reminding himself that this was all a game to you, a game that he was more than willing to play if it ended up with his cock buried deep inside you.

You sighed then, pondering your thoughts. He was not your usual type, but he was cute in a nerdy way, shy and quiet, and he was packing more than any other man you’d had before.

Plus, this was way too entertaining for you to pass up.

“Wear ‘em.”

Bucky’s head snapped up at the command, but this time he did not hesitate to follow your instructions, a bit too eager as he slid the panties up his thighs.

The shutter of your phone’s camera brought him out of his thoughts, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw you take pictures of him. He trusted you wouldn’t spread them around, but the thrill of danger had him leak more pre cum, wetting a patch on the lace.

“So that’s your deal? You like wearing panties? Didn’t even try to act like you didn’t want to,” you snickered, “What a whore.”

The situation couldn’t get more humiliating, and he couldn’t get more desperate for you.

“Be a good boy, Bucky. Fold the laundry for me, since that’s clearly what you meant to do,” you laughed scornfully, nodding to the basket at your feet.

He walked to you slowly, bending over to pick it up, and yelped when you slapped his ass harshly, the sound bouncing off the walls and shooting straight to his aching cock.

“Cute. Now go, you got something to do and I don’t have all night.”

He sighed, and got to work, unloading each item from the dryer, and folding it neatly.

You eyed the lines of his back, the round globes of his ass, the string of your thong dipping between his cheeks. You almost lost yourself imagining how pretty he would look all scratched and marked before you furrowed your brows, observing the way he folded on of your nicer shirts that you wore on interviews and internships.

“Can’t even fold laundry, look at you,” you tsked, shaking your head, “Try that again, I don’t want to spend more than necessary ironing it.”

He obeyed, without any protest, smoothing the creases he’d created, and continuing with your load, until the dryer was empty and you were satisfied.

“Good job, baby boy,” you praised, beckoning him over.

He got closer, close enough that you could feel the heat emanating from his body. He looked so pretty like that, all teary and obedient.

You wanted to make him yours and ruin him for everybody else.

“You’re a fuckin’ pervert, you know that? A creep and a pervert.”

You saw the way his cock twitched behind your lace at the words, and almost doubled over in laughter.

The night couldn’t get any better.

“Fuck, you really are a pervert. This what you get off to? You imagine me calling you names, degrading you like the bitch you are? You want to be humiliated, don’t you?”

A desperate, pathetic whine escaped his throat, and he felt his knees growing weak with need. He was naked in a public space where everyone could see him, being belittled and humiliated by the girl he’d been pining over, and he was hard as a rock, getting off every word that spilled out of your mouth.

“Well,” you purred, fisting the hair at the back of his neck and tugging harshly, “I think we can arrange that.”

“Yes, yes, please, I want it,” he whimpered, chest heaving, “I want you, I’m your slut, I-, you can do whatever you want to me.”

You almost moaned then, intoxicated by his burning desire.

“Good boy,” you hummed, releasing his hair to stroke his cheekbone, smiling at the way he leaned his head against your palm, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“Remember you can tell me to stop or slow down whenever you want, and I will. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” you added more serious, observing his face for any trace of anything but enthusiasm.

When you found none, and he nodded feverishly, you let your hand fall from his cheek to his shoulder, tracing the outlines of his lean muscle.

“Can- can you kiss me, please?” he asked, and he begged so prettily that you could do nothing but humor him, crashing your lips against his.

It was messy, rough. He was sloppy, and from the way he moved against you, you guessed he didn’t have too much experience.

Better, you reasoned. You’d teach him all he needed to know to please you, and you only.

You bit on his bottom lip, and Bucky yelped in surprise, parting his lips.

He tasted like mint on your tongue, and you sighed in content, letting your hands travel down his sides, barely grazing his skin, scratching the hair on his belly.

He shuddered under your touch, goosebumps erupting in your wake.

When you reached his lower stomach, you felt him tense, his breathing getting harder, his tongue more insistent.

He was drooling and crying, you realized, as he snapped his hips against your leg, humping you like a dog.

You broke away from the kiss, catching your breath.

“Look at you, you gettin’ real worked up and I barely even touched you. What are you, a fuckin’ virgin?” you chuckled, playing with the little bow on the front of your panties.

You’d expected him to laugh, or deny, but he just stood there awkwardly, avoiding your gaze,

“I’m not,” he grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Then why are you acting like one?” you prodded, but didn’t wait for him to answer, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

His hesitant hands groped your breasts, finally gaining the confidence to do more than linger awkwardly on your hips. He twirled your stiff nipples, rubbing his thumbs over them, movements getting more frenzied the closer he got to his release.

He crouched awkwardly to be at your chest level while still pressing his hips onto you, and tugged your loose tank top down, moaning at the sight of your tits.

“Go on baby, suck on my tits.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement to assault your nipples, latching his mouth onto one of them, and suckling. You wondered if he’d ever even touched a pair of boobs before, but his ministrations were working either way, making your walls clamp down on nothing.

You finally grasped him in your hand, his cock heavy and throbbing in your palm as you stroked him lazily, spurred on by his little whimpers.

His whole body quivered when you ran your thumb over his slit, and you marvelled at his sensitivity.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?” you moaned in his ear, “I bet you do, I bet you could cum already just from this. Just a handjob, like the pathetic little boy you are, hm?”

He released your tits with a wet pop, and rose to full height again, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yes, yes, please,” he sobbed, “please, princess, more.”

You complied, doubling your efforts. He inhaled sharply when you added your other hand and began twisting both your wrists in opposite directions.

“You want your princess to suck your dick, baby? Want me to get on my knees and take you in my mouth?”

He nodded against you, grinding his hard cock against your hand, desperate to chase his release.

“Or maybe you want your princess’ pretty pussy? You want to fill me with your fat cock and stuff me full of your filthy cum, don’t you?”

He began blabbering, breathing harder, sloppily snapping his hips. He had a look of pure bliss on his face, his eyes shut tightly, mouth hung open and a layer of sweat coating his forehead.

You could feel him grow and throb in your hand, and just before he was about to reach his high, you stopped your hands.

His eyes shot open and he opened and closed his mouth to protest, but you gave him no time, fisting his hair and slamming him against the washer, bending him over the cold surface.

“What, you thought I’d catch you stealing my panties and I’d let that go?” you tutted, bending over him, pressing your front to his back, whispering in his ear “Bad boys need to be punished, don’t you agree?”

A choking sound escaped his parted lips, and you giggled against his skin, licking a strip behind his neck.

You let your hands wander down the expanse of his back, settling on the waistband of your panties. You indulged yourself again, slapping his ass because you liked how it jiggled and how Bucky whined.

“You have a nice ass, you know,” you mused, slouching back to get a good vision of it, “You ever had anyone stick anything up there?”

“W-what?” he sputtered, crooning his head to look at you, “N-no, never.”

“Cute.”

He squirmed in embarrassment when you spread his cheeks, groaning when he felt your spit drip down on him. You massaged a finger around his rim, your hand coated in your spit and his pre cum.

“Relax, I’ll make you feel really good, promise.”

You gradually felt his muscles relax under your touch as you soothingly ran a hand down his back and kept whispering calming, sweet nothings in his ear.

Then, you dipped a finger past the rim.

“See, not that bad, huh?” you smiled, working your finger inside him, caressing his walls.

You nipped the skin of his back, peppering his muscles with fluttering kisses, grazing your teeth over his column.

You dipped another in, and Bucky hissed, wiggling his legs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you shushed him, “You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

He preened under your praise, and you began scissoring your fingers inside his ass, working him open and looking for the spot you knew would make him beg for more.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable, your pussy desperate to be stuffed full of his cock.

You loved how pliant Bucky was being, obedient and submissive in your grasp. You noticed the tears that hadn’t stopped streaming down his face, and huffed a laugh.

“A pervert, a slut, and a fuckin’ crybaby, aren’t you?” you mumbled, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

“Fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, holding onto the washing machine for dear life, tongue lolling out of his mouth, drool dripping down his chin, making it known that you’d found what you’d been looking for.

“Yes, fuck, please princess, gimme more,” he begged, overwhelmed with a pleasure like he’d never experienced before.

He felt like a fire had been lit in his lower belly, and it was spreading to every limb, encompassing him whole.

You grasped his cock in one of your hands while your fingers kept pummeling into his ass, feeling the rim clench around you and his cock pulsate.

You thought you could cum from his beautiful sounds alone, and you kept going until you were sure he was on the verge of a mind shattering orgasm.

Then, you stopped again, and this time Bucky sobbed, blabbering and wailing, begging you.

“Please princess, I’ll do anything, just please let me cum, please, please,” he continued, shamelessly bucking his hips against nothing.

You released his cock and pulled your fingers out of his ass, cleaning the fluids against his panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ pathetic, begging like that,” you mocked him, retrieving your phone from the pocket of your shorts.

You snapped a couple of photos of him bent over the washing machine, pent up and debauched. His balls hung from the lace of your panties, and you made sure to zero on his tear stained face.

“So pretty, my pretty crybaby,” you cooed, helping him stand up again.

He fell on his knees, clutching the hem of your t-shirt.

“Please, you can’t leave me like this, I-, please,” he blabbered.

You committed the image to memory, knowing you’d see it again soon.

You could see it in his eyes how hooked he was to you.

“Baby, bad boys don’t get to cum, do they? You can’t go around stealing people’s laundry,” you tutted, lightly slapping his cheek, “You deserve some punishment, don’t you agree?”

He hesitantly nodded, slumping down on his shins. You grasped his chin, tilting his head up to meet his gaze.

“You got to bed now, no touching, and I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll know if you disobeyed, and trust me, you don’t want to know what’s gonna happen if you did.”

You smiled, and took a few steps back to retrieve your basket, leaving him to catch his breath on the floor.

“See you tomorrow at 4 pm, you know where my dorm is,” you chirped despite your own neglected arousal, sauntering to the door, “Get dressed before someone comes in, you wouldn’t want to see how much of a pervert you are, right?”

He shook his head, agreeing with you despite the sobs that silently shook through his body.

“Good boy,” you purred, hand twisting the knob. You paused, and threw him a look over yourself, “Oh, and thank you for the laundry.”

I hope you liked this! Please leave some feedback if you can! ❤️

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you

947 notes · View notes

lonewolfel · 2 years ago

Text

The Raven Witch: Chapter 7

Read on AO3

First Chapter, Second Chapter, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Luz was reading her Azura book. The part that was about Azura befriending Hecate. Luz stopped reading and looked up at the ceiling.

"I wish that I had the power to befriend my rivals," Luz said. Lilith looked up at her from her book.

"I have no idea what you are talking about but I don't want to know," Lilith said. She fixed her glasses. Hooty swung the door open.

"Ding-dong, ding. Hoot, Hoot." Hooty said

"If it's your little friends please don't animate anything," Lilith muttered. Luz got up and went to the door. When she got to the door she saw that there was a basket on the doorstep.

"Lily, you got something," Luz said. Lilith shot the girl a glare before moving towards the door.

"Lilith and I can't think of anyone who would send me anything," Lilith said. Luz smirked widely.

"Maybe it's from a secret admirer." Luz sang. Lilith's glare deepened.

"In that case, you can burn it," Lilith said. Luz's smirk fell.

"Come on don't you want to see what they sent you," Luz said. Lilith sighed and walked over. Luz moved down the wrapping revealing a sleeping demon baby. Lilith had a look of complete and utter bafflement and disgust.

"Nope, I don't want it," Lilith said.

"Hey, there is a note," Luz said. She picked up the note and began to read it. "Take care of my child 'til morning. Yi Yi."

"Yeah no, I don't do children." Lilith protested. Hooty moved over to the witch.

"I do." Hooty hooted. Lilith gave the house demon a look.

"You'd eat them," Lilith said

"You will be handsomely rewarded xoxoxoxox the Bat Queen." Luz continued to read. A look of horror appeared on Lilith's face. "Who's the Bat Queen?"

"The most powerful and dangerous demon on the Boiling Isles," Lilith explained.

"So from what I'm gathering you can't just turn this down," Luz said. Lilith frowned down at the baby.

"Unfortunately," Lilith responded

"Our greatest adventure yet. Learning about love and life through a child's eyes." Luz said. Lilith made a gagging sound. The human girl took the cradle and moved it onto the coffee table.

"What are the chances I can push this off onto you?" Lilith asked

"Come on Lilith. Look at this cutie." Luz cooed. Then the baby began to cry. The noise was so loud that it shook the house. "Oh look at that I think I'm going to the library. Cause you know I love books and stuff. Ok bye." Luz ran out the door. Lilith growled. The only time she had dealt with babies was when Eda was one and even then Lilith had barely reached toddlerhood.

Lilith slowly walked towards the cradle. She carefully picked up the kid. She held them as far away from her as possible.

"I'm not maternal! I've never even been around infants!" Lilith cried. Her desperation and panic were clear.

"Do what you have seen on the crystal ball," Hooty suggested.

Lilith nodded and moved to cradle the baby. She began to rock them. It felt awkward and artificial. Though the baby did stop crying. Lilith let out a sigh of relief. Though that was the only other movement that the witch did. She stood there frozen beside the moving of her arms.

~~~

The Bonesborough Library was so interesting. Books flying through the air. The Demon Decimal System that was actually alive. It was so cool. Crystal balls that acted as computers.

"This place is amazing," Luz exclaimed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Amities voice questioned. Luz widened in shock.

"I've been caught. Pretend to be a book." Luz told herself. She moved her body so that it kind of looked like she was part of a shelf. Then the sound of children's laughter reached the human. "Wait."

"'We're your friends," Amity continued. Luz walked over to the area hiding to avoid being seen. "and we wanna help', said the Tin Boy with a yelp." There was Amity reading a book to a bunch of kids. She looked happy and definitely different than how she acted when she had been bulling Willow. "Otabin smiled and paced the floor. 'I've never had real friends before.'"

"Amity reading to kids?" Luz asked

"'Then we'll be your first,' the Chicken Witch clucked." Amity read. Luz snuck into the room hiding behind a small bookshelf. "Otabin couldn't believe his luck. So, Bookmaker Otabin surrounded by friends, bound a book of friendship and that's the end."

"Amity seems so nice and smiley. Maybe I can befriend her like Azura befriended her rival." Luz said.

The kids said their goodbyes to the teen witch. Luz quickly ducked out of the way. She placed an open book on her head. Once the last kid was gone she looked over at Luz's improved hiding spot. Amity's face morphed into a look of shock.

"Ugh! You, Willow's abomination thing," Amity said in pure disdain.

"Uh...hey, Amity. So funny story, not an abomination. Sorry for the confusion. I...I'm Luz. The human. Hi." Luz awkwardly greeted. She placed out a hand for a handshake.

"Put that away." Amity snapped. She slapped the hand away.

"Reading to kids. Wow. Looks like this sour lemon drop has a hidden sweet center." Luz said. Amity huffed.

"It's for extra credit. Don't get your leggings in a bunch." Amity said. She picked up books and began to walk away.

"Hey, I could help with the kids. We could take turns reading and do voices." Luz said. She followed the green-haired witch. "I do the best monster voice.

"Human, do you see me going to...wherever you live and bug you while you...curse owls? Okay, I don't know where you live or what you do there, but you're the one that got me in trouble with Principle Bump and I never get in trouble." Amity said

"Well, to be fair, you were okay with him trying to dissect me, so..." Luz defended.

"Just leave me alone," Amity exclaimed.

"I'm sorry," Luz said. She began to walk away. Hopes dashed for befriending the witch. "So much for befriending rivals."

~~~

Lilith felt like crying and taking a nap probably both. The three demon babies flew around destroying the living room. She had no idea how to calm down children. The Bat Queen was a fool to trust her with them.

Hooty didn't seem to be fairing any better. He had tried to wrangle them in but without swallowing them it was impossible. Both of them now were cowering underneath an overturned couch.

"I can't do this!" Lilith cried

"Well, we have to do something, hoot hoot." Hooty said

"What!" Lilith cried.

"I don't know what did your mom do when you were a kid," Hooty responded.

Lilith paused. Her mother didn't exactly acknowledge her towards the end of her stay. Instead, Gwen focused primarily on Eda. The troublemaker somehow always seemed to worm her way into others. Then she remembered back before her mother's favorite was clearly revealed. She would read the two girls a bedtime story.

Lilith looked around for a book that was age appropriate. Finally, she managed to find one that wouldn't get her immediately killed by the Bat Queen.

Lilith began to read the book. The kids' interest had peaked. They flew over and sat before her. Hooty laid on her lap.

Maybe Lilith could do this.

~~~

When Luz walked into the house after a long night at the library she was shocked to see that Lilith was asleep her glasses skewed across her face with the three babies laying on top of her and Hoot was wrapped around them also asleep.

Then the Bat Queen came and took the kids. She also spat up a chest and a whistle saying that she owed Lilith a favor. Then the four of them flew off.

Lilith then woke up with a start. She looked around.

"Where are the kids?" Lilith asked in a panic. Luz made a gesture of them flying away. "Oh, well that's for the best." Lilith fixed her glasses.

"Your night looks very successful. Look at all that money you made." Luz said. She gestured towards the chest and then held up a whistle. "And look at this cool whistle that scary woman gave you. I'd wash it before you use it." Luz walked over to the witch.

"Right," Lilith said. She took the whistle in hand.

"I miss them." Hooty sobbed. Lilith gave the house demon a look.

"I actually got you something from the library," Luz said. She took a book out of her bag and handed it to Lilith. She took it and looked at the cover. She looked at the cover and frowned.

"I AM NOT A MOTHER!" Lilith shouted.

"I am." Hooty sobbed. With that, he took the book from Lilith. Lilith huffed. Hooty quickly began to read the book.

"How was your night?" Lilith asked

"Good. Then bad. Then maybe good." Luz said

"What are the chances that you almost died tonight?" Lilith asked. Luz had a look of shame on her face. Lilith facepalmed. "Of course."

"I might have made a friend." Luz defended.

"Why do you always need to be in danger for you to make friends?" Lilith sighed.

"It's part of my charm," Luz said. Lilith grumbled something Luz couldn't make it out. Not that it mattered to the girl.

#the owl house #owl house #lilith clawthorne #the owl house hooty #luz noceda #amity blight #bat queen #toh #fanfic #fan fiction

2 notes · View notes

queenk00k · 5 years ago

Text

red wine lips part 1 // rafe cameron

Warnings: alcohol, drug use, sexual content

Word count: 2000

PART 2 NOW UPLOADED

PART 3 NOW UPLOADED

FINAL PART NOW UPLOADED

fic idea from my ship with rafe from @socialwriter

moodboard idea from @harrysbbby

You were going to be late.

Correction: You and Rafe Cameron were going to be late, and it’s all his fault for hosting a party the night before, in what you assumed was an effort to impress you (which, by the way, didn’t work) and you were pissed.

You had overslept and Rafe, having been preoccupied with multiple bags, hadn’t slept at all.

“Rafe!” You yell. “We’re going to be late, and I will not have you turning up to this thing in anything less than a suit. Get dressed and hurry the fuck up!” You hop across the first-floor landing, pulling your heels on as you made a beeline for Rafe’s bedroom.

Not bothering to knock (when had you two had any manners towards each other anyway?), you push open the heavy wooden door to see Rafe bent over his dresser, half dressed in navy suit pants and an open white shirt. He’s surreptitiously cutting the last of the night’s supply into neat lines with his black AMEX card, tapping his foot absentmindedly.

“Keeping the party going, are we?” You ask, folding your arms across your satin clad chest.

Rafe doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he finishes what he was doing before you interrupted, snorting his line and wiping his nose as he turns around.

He smirks. “Looking good, Y/N. That dress would look better off you though.”

You roll your eyes. “Firstly, keep it in your pants, and secondly, you better not be thinking about bringing coke to the tour. We’re being classy today, Cameron,” you say, using the nickname only reserved for when you were annoyed at your long-time friend.

Rafe chuckles and starts buttoning his shirt, stepping towards you as his brows furrow in concentration. “I’ll behave.”

You look up at him incredulously.

“Promise,” he says. “I’ll just get drunk today. That’s what wine tastings are for, right?”

You figured him being drunk was the best-case scenario. At least you could guarantee the absence of Pogues – no fighting today.

“I’ll take it. Come on, we need to go. Our driver’s outside.”

You turn to leave, but Rafe grabs your wrist suddenly, holding you back. “Wait, wait.” Rafe’s blue eyes stare down at you intensely and, you’re ashamed to admit, you think they’re actually quite pretty. “I do really think you look nice today. Red’s your colour.”

There’s a brief pause as you wait for the usual sexual remark, but a beat passes without one and you’re pleasantly surprised.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you reply with a smile as you head out the door, but before you fully leave you pop your head back through the frame.

“Oh, and Rafe?”

“Mm?”

“Wear a red tie.” You wink before turning on your heel, swooping the dress behind you as you make your way downstairs.

There’s excited chatter amongst your group as your driver pulls up to the iron gates of the most prestigious winery in the Outer Banks and you gaze out the window at the vines spread out across the field.

The car comes to a stop and Rafe jumps out before you, impressing you by taking your hand and helping you step out of the vehicle onto the gravelled road. You look up at him and think to yourself how handsome he looks and, not to mention, how good you both look together in red.

You and Rafe first met as kids, when you were both left at the country club’s “kidZone” whilst your mums sipped champagne and got uncomfortably close to men who weren’t their husbands. Since then, your families were always close and you and Rafe became good friends, bonded by your love of two things: money and having a good time.

There was underlying sexual tension between the two of you since you were old enough to wear a bra and Rafe was old enough to notice, but neither of you had ever acted on it.

Sometimes the fun was left in the unknown, the untouched possibilities, the lingering gazes and suggestive comments.

“Like what you see?” Rafe teases, snapping you out of your reflective state.

You chuckle. “What if I do?” You walk away without giving Rafe a chance to reply, feeling his wandering eyes burn a hole in your back as you make sure to swing your hips in a way you know will have him distracted for the rest of the day.

Like you said – sometimes all the fun was in the chase.

Maybe this time he could catch you.

_______________________________________________________________

“So this one here is our flagship viognier – it’s a full bodied white wine, and because it’s been aged in oak like our chardonnay, it’s a very rich taste and you’ll be able to taste notes of vanilla,” the sommelier explains as he pours an annoyingly small amount of wine into your glass before moving onto Rafe’s next to you.

You notice he’s gone light on the wine as he’s serving to your group, clearly uncomfortable with the raucous group of barely legal 21-year-olds.

Rafe swirls the wine around his glass and says “how much for a bottle?”

You scoff. “You haven’t even tasted it yet. See if you like it first.”

“Don’t be so bossy, Y/N,” he replies before downing the wine in one gulp, much to the horror of your sommelier.

You quickly follow suit, taking a bit longer to savour the taste of the wine before you swallow completely. You actually enjoy this wine stuff, taking the time to learn about different types of grapes before you organised this trip for you, Rafe, Topper, Kelce and your group of girlfriends from college. You notice Rafe watching you as you tip your head back, his blue eyes following the curve of your neck, his jaw clenching as you swallow.

No prizes for guessing what he’s thinking about you swallowing instead.

After a few more glasses as you make your way down to the final bottle of wine, you feel yourself getting dizzier and your friends are speaking louder and louder until Rafe finds it necessary to bring his lips to your ear every time he wants to speak to you.

“You know, you and I….we could have some fun together,” Rafe says as he trails a finger up your thigh.

You slap his hand and move it off you, bringing your gaze to his face which is tantalizing close to yours, willing yourself not to bring your gaze to his lips which are stained ever so slightly with red.

“You said you were going to behave, Cameron,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

“What, I can’t treat my princess to something I know she’s been waiting for all these years?” Rafe looks at you expectantly.

“Your princess?”

“You been cosying up to anyone else today?” Rafe points out, fingering the collar of his suit jacket that’s been draped over your bare shoulders at some point in the afternoon.

Fuck, he’s right.

“…I was cold,” you say, witty replies be damned.

“Mmhm.”

You stare at each other for a beat, before Rafe spins in his seat (almost toppling off) and faces the bar.

“How much is a bottle of the merlot?” He asks the sommelier.

You see the guy purse his lips.

“It’s our most expensive bottle.”

Rafe scoffs. “Weird price. How much is it?”

The sommelier furrows his brows and looks around the room, his gaze falling upon Topper and Kelce who were talking animatedly, their ties hanging loose around their necks.

“Where are your parents? Maybe you should wait for them to get here and they could pick something out for you?”

Oh boy, you think. Not difficult for you to predict how Rafe was going to react to that comment.

True to form, Rafe pushes back from the table and stands up, his jaw clenched and his large frame towering over the server, who at least has the common sense to look intimidated.

“Do you know who I am, bro?”

“Don’t answer that,” you warn him with a wave of your hand. “Better to just let him tell you.”

You had seen Rafe on power trips like this in the past when his influence has been questioned. It proves troublesome when whoever he’s talking to just isn’t having it, but usually you find it pretty hot.

Rafe places his hands on the counter and leans over to look the server in the eyes.

You do him a favour by holding his tie back, so it doesn’t take a dip in the cabernet sauvignon.

“I’m Rafe Cameron. Do you know who my father is? Yeah,” Rafe says as the sommelier gulps, “Ward Cameron. We basically own this island. Do you own an island?”

The server shakes his head in defeat.

“I didn’t think so,” Rafe says, standing up straight again and shooting you a brief smirk as you take your hand off his tie.

You figure he’s grateful.

“Now, my group and I here would like 10 bottles.”

The sommelier clears his throat before replying. “Of course, sir, which 10 bottles would you like?”

Rafe chuckles as he flashes his AMEX. “Oh no, you misunderstand. I want 10 bottles of every single wine you have.”

Your painted lips curl into a smile.

It was going to be a good afternoon.

_______________________________________________________________

Before you know it, you’re sitting next to Rafe at a table in the courtyard, your leg moving dangerously closer to his, his eyes grazing over your chest intermittently.

Topper is telling a story about his ex-girlfriend Sarah, who he insists he’s ��completely over” (yeah right) and you’re barely listening, your eyes glazed over as you bring the crystal glass to your lips absentmindedly.

Hard to concentrate on anything when Rafe Cameron’s hand is inching closer up your thigh, pulling the satin fabric up with it until your leg is almost completely exposed to the cool afternoon air.

You’re thankful for two things.

One, the fact that you had the foresight to shave that morning.

And two, the biological blessing that was your ability to hide how completely and utterly turned on you are in that moment.

You start squirming in your seat, clearing your throat as you become increasingly aware of how flushed your cheeks feel, warmth pooling in your belly as you swallow thickly and turn to Rafe.

He looks at you expectantly and in a daring move, presses his lips to your neck softly.

Completely out of character for Rafe, it’s almost sweet and doesn’t do your state any favours as you squeeze your thighs together, wetness already starting to spread to your underwear.

Goddamnit, you think. You look up at Rafe through your long eyelashes, and bring your lips to his ear to whisper “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Rafe looks at you excitedly, and you figure it wouldn’t hurt (too much) to drag out the inevitable just that bit longer.

“Do not even think about following me,” you say as you stand up, praying your arousal hasn’t started to show on your dress. You picked a good day to wear satin, for goodness sake.

Rafe looks hurt as you walk into the ladies’ bathroom, not doubting that he will follow your wishes. He may be a sexual deviant but he’s not one to cross boundaries, especially yours.

You brace yourself on the porcelain sink, breathing heavily as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look frazzled and flushed, all because of Rafe.

You have an idea, and smirk to yourself as you prepare to leave.

You make your way out of the bathroom, walking slowly back to the group, stopping where only Rafe can see you.

You don’t have to wait long for Rafe to look up and catch your eye. It gives you some sort of satisfaction to see his face change from confusion to shock, and you know you’ve got him hooked.

You’re holding your red lace thong in your hand, winking as you stuff it discreetly into your clutch. You’ve never seen Rafe look so impressed.

Game on.

_______________________________________________________________

tag list my beautiful bbys: @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @hoeforpankow @harrysbbby @ptersparkers @socialwriter @thatjohnd @ssjiara @jjsmentalpolaroids @bailspogue @jjmaybankx @jjtheangel @jjmeybank @drewstarkey @obx-direction-sos @sortagaysortahigh @pixelated-pogues @jjmbanks @ims0golden @obbx-tings @honeyycheek @softstarkey

please let me know your thoughts and if you’d like a part 2!! (planning on it)

#i would love any comments/reblogs/feedback pls #im proud of this one #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader

790 notes · View notes

quartzwriting · 4 years ago

Text

The War of The Infinity Stones

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Fem!Reader

Description: Thanos is coming and you have an Infinity Stone to protect.

Warnings: Dusty deaths

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: Originally posted on Quotev / This one is old, written before Endgame. Links to parts 2 and 1.5 coming soon.

Part 2: Endgame story

Part 1.5: Hypothetical Endgame (original plot)

Masterlist | Fic Reading Recs | Ao3 | Quotev | Coffee

It felt like your head was about to explode.

Okay so: aliens from space trying to wipe out half the universe, spaceship shaped like a giant donut, a billionaire playboy genius in a rocket suit and a kid with spider powers who won’t stop making pop culture references.

You were still processing it all. And you thought being in world with sorcerers and multi dimensional realities was exhausting.

“How long have they been going at it for?” The teenage boy who introduced himself to you as Peter whispered to you.

“I’m not keeping track.” You whispered back, the both of your standing away at a safe distance. Stephen and Tony had been in a heated argument for god knows how long. Their clashing egos made everything worse. You and Peter tried to speak up but they both shut you out. The entire universe was at risk and these two just needed to argue right now?

“So...you’re a witch or something?” Peter said, you could tell he was trying to ease some awkwardness between you two. Anything was better than listening to your boyfriend have an argument with his ego doppelganger.

“Sorceress.” A smile grazed your face as you made a quick motion with your hands. Sparks danced between your fingers before a small butterfly materialized. It flew over to Peter and landed on his nose, making him smile.

“That’s awesome!” Peter exclaimed, you found him absolutely adorable. “How did you get your powers?”

“Well they’re not necessarily powers. Years of study and training, anyone could do it actually.”

“Well I was bit by a spider...but I don’t think it’s as cool as what you can do.”

Suddenly there was yelling and raised voices.

“Okay I’ve had enough of this.” You let out an exaggerated sighed, and Peter could tell something was coming.

With a fast motion from your hands, you created a shockwave and sent it in the direction of the two men arguing. The wave rattled the ship slightly and the two of them stopped and froze while looking at you.

“The entire universe is in trouble and you both are acting like children.”

Tony turned to Stephen. “You gonna let your girlfriend boss around an Avenger. Because that’s what I am and I don’t take orders from anyone.”

“She can if she wants to.” Stephen replied simply.

“Thank you Stephen.” You said with your nose in the air. “Now, are you two going to shut up so we can find Thanos and prevent him from destroying half the universe.”

“Seriously we should just get rid of this one.” Tony pointed to The Eye of Agamotto and the time stone.

“I’m sworn to protect this with my life.” Stephen jumped back in, his cloak was now flaring out to make him look bigger. “And I won’t hesitate to risk your life Stark to keep it safe.”

“Whoa slow down there, Cheekbones. Who saved your magical ass back there when that squid was trying to extract if from you?”

“Did you just call me Cheekbones?”

“Hey!” You shouted. “If you two keep arguing then we’re not going to get anywhere.”

The two men stopped and looked at you with raised eyebrows.

Then Tony spoke up, “Who put Hermione Granger in charge?”

“Okay you know what Stark-“

Suddenly the cloak slapped Stephen in the face. Then quickly did the same to Tony before flying off the sorcerer’s shoulders. It flew over and rested on your shoulders. It was almost like it was agreeing with you, that the two needed to shut up.

“Looks like it’s the only one that agrees with me.”

Peter put up his hand. “I agree with you, Miss (L/N).”

You pointed to him in approval. “At least someone has a brain on this ship.”

Stepping forwards and in between the two men, you looked out the large window. The planet that the ship was moving towards was getting dangerously close. Nerves were settling in and you had to suck it up.

You looked over at Stephen and spoke softly. “Stephen, we’ll protect the stone. We’re going to stop Thanos and everything will be alright.”

He scoffed and replied in the same soft tone as you had spoken in. “Why did you come, (Y/N)? You’re going to get hurt.”

“The cloak of yours brought me here, when you were beamed up.” Said cloak now went back to him and fastened itself around his shoulders. “And I’m here for a reason. I’m here to help.”

“This is so dangerous and I don’t want to lose you.”

Raising your hand to cup his cheek, you stroked it softly. “Stephen, I’ll be fine. I know how to protect myself.”

He paused for a second, staring at the determination in your eyes. Then he agreed, “I know how powerful you are. We can do this.”

“Uh guys… maybe save the mushy moments for later… we’re about to crash!”

~~~~~

Okay so more weirdness was going on. You, Stephen, Tony and Peter were attacked once you got on the planet. After a misunderstanding, you had made more allies; Peter Quill, Drax and Mantis (who had called themselves ‘Guardians of The Galaxy’) had joined your party. Pretty soon you had a little team that all hated Thanos.

Currently, you were all huddled together trying to come up with a plan since Thanos was sure to be coming for the time stone soon. After some insults thrown back and forth between Stark and Quill, an idea was starting to come together.

Your attention was diverted from the group to Stephen, who was nearby and doing his own thing. He insisted that he do something while the rest of you talked. It looked like he was meditating, he did it often so you didn’t think too much of it. But something was nagging at the back of your head that something was off.

“Hey (Y/N).”

You snapped out of your thoughts and turned your attention back to the others, who all looked at you. They must have mentioned you and you were not paying any attention.

“I’m sorry, I wasn't listening.” You admitted, embarrassed. “What?”

Quill rolled his eyes, “For someone with a pretty face I assumed you would at least have a bit of brains. Are Earth girls dumbed down more now?”

Your jaw dropped open in a scoff, “Excuse me? You want me to send you to another dimension because I can and I will.”

“Excuse me...but does your friend often do that?” Mantis cut the tension and pointed to Stephen. He was now using the time stone and was shaking violently. You knew something was wrong.

“Strange? You alright?” Tony asked.

“Stephen?” You asked in the same tone, quickly walking up to him. It was like once he heard your voice, he got pulled out of his meditative state. He stopped leavitating and his eyes shot up to yours. He was gasping for breath, chest heaving as he grabbed for your hands for support.

“Hey what was that?” Peter Parker asked, speaking for everyone else.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures.” He was still panting as he spoke. “To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

“How many did you see?” Peter Quill questioned.

“Fourteen million six hundred and five.”

Tony came up behind you, “How many do we win?”

Stephen looked into your eyes, his own full of worry and anxiety. “One.” And your heart dropped.

~~~~~

You watched in horror as Thanos ripped the fake Eye of Agamotto off of Stephen’s neck and threw him onto the ground. You didn’t hesitate to run to his side and fall to your knees over him.

“You alright?” You were practically shaking and you couldn’t keep your self steady.

“Help Tony.” He croaked out.

“No I’m not leaving you.”

“Help him!”

Your head whipped around and Tony was struggling to keep up with Thanos. His Iron Man suit was now falling apart and disappearing.

Standing tall, you conjured a portal underneath Tony and transported him to a safe distance away just before he could get stabbed by his own blade. Thanos looked up at you and you put on your confidence face.

With a few strong movements with your hands, you began to send sparks flying from your fingertips. Soon the sparks were shooting out of your body like lightning. You charged yourself up and released, sending the bolts towards the titan.

Thanos absorbed your attack with his gauntlet and shot back a blast from the power stone, purple shocks flying your way. Thinking quickly you summoned a shield from the mirror dimension and they bounced right off. You turned your shield into large crystal fragments and made them protrude out from under ground. He shattered them with shots from the stones.

He raised his gauntlet and it flashed orange .The soul stone’s power was shot towards you. You didn’t have time to react and found yourself on your knees and screaming in agony. It felt like your very existence was being torn apart. It was like your astral-body was wanting to leave your physical body permanently, and it was being ripped from you. Your soul being pried out of its casing.

“STOP!”

The horrible pain instantly stopped and you collapsed. You gasped in desperate need of air and a headache formed that was splitting your brain open.

“Spare her and I’ll give you the stone.”

You coughed up blood, “No…”

“How cute.” Thanos’ voice sounded like a shattered record to you since you hated him so much. “No tricks, wizard.”

“Leave her and you’ll have it.”

You groggily looked up and saw Stephen summon the stone and hand it over to Thanos. Satisfied and finished with you, he left as Quill tried to attack him once more.

Still so weak, you crawled over to Stephen. “Why did you do that?” Your voice was broken.

“There was no other way.” He tried to support you as best he could, but still being weak himself it was difficult. “And he was destroying you...your screaming...that’s never going to leave me…”

You collapsed onto him, leaning on his side. Tears swelled in your eyes as it all settled in your mind; “This is it...isn’t it?”

He looked back at you, “I’m afraid it might be…”

You broke right there, hating that you could have done something to stop it. But you couldn’t, and that tore you apart.

“You were so powerful. I’m so proud of you.” Stephen whispered to you, his own stuttering voice soothing you a little. You could even feel the cloak wrapping an edge around you to pull you closer to Stephen. “You’ve come so far since I started teaching you. Well done.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at him, and you both leaned into each other still catching your breaths.

Your entire team was in silence, accepting their defeat and wondering what was going to happen next.

“Something is happening.”

You watched as Mantis, Drax and Quill all turned to dust and float away in the wind. Fear spread to everyone else and Peter muttered that he wasn’t feeling well.

“(Y/N)?”

Your heart sank and you turned to Stephen. Without waiting a single second, he pulled you to him and kissed you. His hands cupping your face were shaking, more than they usually did. You clung to him, grabbing the fabric of his tunic. You have never shared a kiss so desperate, so full of trust and heartbreak, so full of fear. So full of love for each other that you didn’t need to say it. You both just knew.

The feeling of his lips on yours faded, and you opened your eyes to see him blow away as ashes.

All that was left was the cloak and you clutched onto it and sobbed. It smelled like him. It moved under your tears and flew over to rest upon your shoulders. The warm feeling of the cloak wrapped around you, it reminded you of Stephen. Oh, Stephen.

Your heart shattered for your love and for the universe as you knew...

You lost.

#doctor strange x reader #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #stephen strange #infinity war #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #benedict cumberbatch #doctor strange x you #reader #reader insert #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #time stone

234 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 5 years ago

Note

If/when they make a Joe/Nicky prequel movie, what are some of the Dos and Don’ts for them, with regards to historical accuracy. Like, what do you think they should include, and what do you think they should avoid?

Oof. This is a GREAT question, and also designed to give me a chance to ramble on in a deeply, deeply self-indulgent fashion. That is now what will proceed to happen. Consider yourself warned. So if they were miraculously to be like “well that qqueenofhades person on tumblr seems like she knows what she’s talking about, let’s hire her to consult on this production!”, here are some of the things I would tell them.

First off, a question I have in fact asked my students when teaching the crusades in class is whether you could actually show the sack of Jerusalem on screen. Like... if you’re making a film about the First Crusade, what kind of choices are you going to make? What narrative viewpoint are you going to uphold throughout the story? Are you actually going to show a slaughter of Muslim and Jewish inhabitants that some chroniclers described as causing enough blood to reach up to the knees of horses? (Whether it actually did this is beside the point; the point is that the sack went far beyond the accepted conventions of warfare and struck everybody involved in it as particularly horrific.) Because when you’re making a film about the crusades, you are also making it by nature for a modern audience that has particular understandings of Christian/Muslim conflict, religious warfare and/or tolerance, the War on Terror, the modern clash over ISIS, Trump’s Muslim ban, and so forth. The list goes on and on. So you’re never making a straight, unbiased historical adaptation, even if you’re going off the text of primary sources. You’re still constructing it and presenting it in a deliberate and curated fashion, and you can bet that whichever way you come down, your audience will pick up on that.

Let’s take the most recent example of a high-profile crusades film: Kingdom of Heaven from 2005. I’ve written a book chapter on how the narrative choices of KoH, aside from its extensive fictionalization of its subject matter to start with, make it crystal clear that it is a film made by a well-meaning Western liberal filmmaker (Ridley Scott) four years after 9/11 and two years after the invasion of Iraq, when the sympathy from 9/11 was wearing off and everyone saw America/Great Britain and the Bush/Blair coalition overreaching itself in yet another arrogant imperial adventure into the Middle East. Depending on how old you are, you may or may not remember the fact that Bush explicitly called the War on Terror a “crusade” at the start, and then was quickly forced to walk it back once it alarmed his European allies (yes, back then, as bad as America was, it still did have those) with its intellectual baggage. They KNEW exactly what images and tropes they were invoking. It is also partly why medieval crusade studies EXPLODED in popularity after 9/11. Everyone recognized that these two things had something to do with each other, or they made the connection somehow. So anyone watching KoH in 2005 wasn’t really watching a crusades film (it is set in the late 1180s and dramatizes the surrender of Jerusalem to Saladin) so much as a fictional film about the crusades made for an audience explicitly IN 2005. I have TONS to say on this subject (indeed, if you want a copy of my book chapter, DM me and I’ll be happy to send it.)

Ridley Scott basically sets it up as the Christian and Muslim secular leaders themselves aren’t evil, it’s all the religious fanatics (who are all made Templars, including Guy de Lusignan, going back to the “evil Templar” trope started by Sir Walter Scott and which we are all so very familiar with from Dan Brown and company). Orlando Bloom’s character shares a name (Balian de Ibelin) but very little else with the eponymous real-life crusader baron. One thing Scott did do very well was casting an actual and well-respected Syrian actor (Ghassan Massoud) to play Saladin and depicting him in essential fidelity to the historical figure’s reputed traits of justice, fairness, and mercy (there’s some article by a journalist who watched the film in Beirut with a Muslim audience and they LOVED the KoH Saladin). I do give him props for this, rather than making the Evil Muslim into the stock antagonist. However, Orlando Bloom’s Balian is redeemed from the religious extremist violence of the Templars (shorthand for all genuinely religious crusaders) by essentially being an atheistic/agnostic secular humanist who wants everyone to get along. As I said, this is a film about the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq made three years after 9/11 more than anything else, and you can really see that.

That said, enough about KoH, back to this presumable Joe/Nicky backstory. You would obviously run into the fact that it’s SUPER difficult to make a film about the crusades without offending SOMEBODY. The urge to paint in broad strokes and make it all about the evil Westerners invading is one route, but it would weaken the moral complexity of the story and would probably make it come off as pandering to guilty white liberal consciences. Are we gonna touch on the many decades of proto-crusading ventures in Iberia, Sicily, North Africa, and other places, and how the eleventh century, especially under Pope Gregory VII, made it even thinkable for a Christian to be a holy warrior in the first place? (It was NOT normal beforehand.) How are we going to avoid the “lololol all religion sucks and makes people do crazy things” axe to grind favoured by So Very Smart (tm) internet atheists? Yes, we have to demonstrate the ultimate horror of the crusade and the flawed premises it was based on, but we can’t do that by just showing the dirty, religiously zealot medieval people doing that because they don’t know any better and are being cynically manipulated in God’s Name. In other words (and the original TOG film did this very well) we can’t position ourselves to laugh at or mock the crusader characters or feel confident in looking down on them for being Dumb Zealots. They have to be relatable enough that we realize we could BE (and in fact already ARE) them, and THEN you slide into the horror and what compels them to do those kinds of things, and THAT’S when it hits. Because take a look at the news. This is happening around us right now.

Obviously, as I was doing in my First Crusade chapter in DVLA, a lot of this also has to spend time centering the Muslim point of view, the way they reacted to the crusade, the ways in which Yusuf as an Isma’ili Shia Muslim (Kaysani is the name of a branch of Isma’ili Shi’ites, he has a definite historical context and family lineage, and hence is almost surely, as I wrote him, a Fatimid from Egypt) is likewise not just A Stock Muslim. In this case, obviously: Get actual Muslims on the set to advise about the details. Don’t make stupid and/or obvious mistakes. Don’t necessarily make the Muslims less faithful or less virtuous than the Christians (even if this is supposed to praise them as being “less fanatic” than those bad religious Catholics). Don’t tokenize or trivialize their reaction to something as horrific as the sack of Jerusalem, and don’t just use dead brown bodies as graphic visual porn for cheap emotional points. Likewise, it goes without saying, and I don’t think they would anyway, but OH MY GOD DON’T MAKE THIS INTO GAME OF THRONES GRIMDARK!!!! OH MY GOD!!! THERE IS BEAUTY AND THERE IS LIGHT AND THERE IS POETRY AND THAT’S WHY IT HURTS SO MUCH WHEN IT’S DESTROYED! AND THE CHOICES THAT PEOPLE MAKE TO DESTROY THOSE THINGS HAVE TO BE TERRIFYINGLY PLAUSIBLE AND FAMILIAR, BECAUSE OH MY GOD!!

Next, re: Nicolo. Evidently he is a priest or a former priest or something of the sort in the graphic novel, which becomes a bit of a problem if we want him to actually FIGHT in the crusades for important and/or shallow and/or OTP purposes. (I don’t know if they address this somehow or Greg Rucka is not a medieval historian or whatever, but never mind.) It was a Major Thing that priests could not carry weapons, at least and especially bladed weapons. (In the Bayeux Tapestry, we have Odo, the bishop of Bayeux, fighting at the battle of Hastings with a truncheon because he’s a clergyman and can’t have a sword). They were super not supposed to shed blood, and a broadsword (such as the type that Nicky has and carries and is clearly very familiar with) is a knight’s weapon, not a clergyman’s. The thing about priests was that they were not supposed to get their hands dirty with physical warfare; they could (and often did) accompany crusade armies, bishops were secular overlords and important landholders, monks and hermits and other religious preachers were obviously part of a religious expedition, and yes, occasionally some priests would break the rules and fight in battle. But this was an exception FAR more than the rule. So if we’re going by accuracy, we have Nicky as a priest who doesn’t actively fight and doesn’t have a sword, we have him as a rule-breaking priest with a sword (which would have to be addressed, and the Templars, who were basically armed monks, weren’t founded until 1119 so he can’t be one of those yet if this is still 1099) or we just skip the priest part and have him as a crusader with a sword like any other soldier. If he was in fact a priest, he also wouldn’t be up to the same standard of sending into battle. Boys, especially younger sons of the nobility, often entered the church at relatively early ages (12 or 13), where it was treated as a career, and hence they stopped training in arms. So if Nicky is actually out there fighting and/or getting killed by Yusuf several times for Important Purposes, he’s... almost surely not a priest.

Iirc, they’ve already changed a few things from the graphic novel (I haven’t read it, but this is what I’ve heard) so they can also tweak things to make a new backstory or a hybrid-new backstory in film-verse. So once we’ve done all the above, we still have to decide how to handle the actual sack of Jerusalem and massacre of its inhabitants, the balance between violence comparable to the original TOG film and stopping short of being exploitative (which I think they would do well), and the aftermath of that and the founding of the new Latin Christian kingdom. It would have to, as again the original film does very well, avoid prioritizing the usual players and viewpoints in these events, and dig into presenting the experiences of the marginalized and way in which ordinary people are brought to the point of doing these things. It doesn’t (and frankly shouldn’t) preach at us that U.S. Invasions Of The Middle East Are Bad (especially since obviously none of the characters/people/places/events here are American at all). And as I said already but bears repeating: my god, don’t even THINK about making it GOT and marketing it as Gritty Dramatic Medieval History, You Know It’s Real Because They’re Dirty, Violent, and Bigoted!

Also, a couple tags I saw pop up were things like “Period-Typical Racism” and “Period-Typical Homophobia” and mmm okay obviously yes there are these elements, but what exactly is “period typical?” Does it mean “using these terms just because you figure everyone was less tolerant back then?” We know that I, with my endless pages of meta on medieval queer history, would definitely side-eye any attempts to paint these things as Worse Than Us, and the setting alone would convey a sense of the conflict without having to add on gratuitous microaggressions. I basically think the film needs to be made exactly like the original: centering the gay/queer perspectives of marginalized people and people of color, resisting the urge for crass jokes at the expense of the identity of its characters, and approaching it with an awareness of the deep complexity and personal meaning of these things to people in terms of the historical moment we’re in, while not making a film that ONLY prizes our response and our current crises. Because if we’re thinking about these historical genealogies, the least we can do (although we so often aren’t) is to be honest.

Thanks! I LOVED this question.

#history #medieval history #kingdom of heaven #joe x nicky #long post #persephone-rose-r #ask #the old guard meta

250 notes · View notes

midnight-hotel · 5 years ago

Note

I was thinking of a Alastor x Reader , where the reader is a fallen angel, and was given up by god, so now that she is in Hell she doesn't know where to go. You can do whatever you want from this, impress me

//Well, I impressed myself so I hope I’ve impressed you too!

Everyone had heard of God’s new plan. It was the biggest thing to happen in Heaven since the day word spread about the ‘Happy Hotel’ down in Hell. A rehabilitation centre for sinners wasn’t such a bad idea thanks to the population issue down there but it was also a ridiculous notion because, well… souls were sent down there for a reason. Now, you had never been human, so you were no expert on whether or not demons deserved a second chance, but unlike the princess of hell, you’d been given the chance to observe the behaviour of human beings and had yet to form an opinion on the matter. Not a proper one at least. However, you did not see demon’s worth so much as to have God banish an angel down to hell for all eternity to see if they can make any impact. It would be one thing to just send an angel down there, but it had been made clear that they needed someone expendable. An angel they could afford to lose should they be killed down there in hell.

That hardly sit well in your stomach and when you saw the arch angel Michael fly into the city centre with news of who would be sent down to hell, you spread your wings and took off to get closer. Whose life were they about to ruin? Angels all around you murmured softly between each other, watching closely as Michael gazed around as if looking for the ‘chosen one’. Everyone waited with bated breath until a name was finally uttered from the Angel’s plump lips.

“Amethyst Hearth.”

The name almost seemed to echo despite the softness of his strong voice and within moments, the crowd parted to show the young angel, a woman who had hardly been in heaven three years. From what you had head, she had been a single, teen mother. A young girl who had been taken advantage of in her youth but did her best to make a decent life for herself and her child. Unfortunately, she died in an accident of some sort.

“N-No! No, please, I couldn’t possibly survive down there!” The woman practically cried, taking stumbled steps back, trying to put more distance between herself and Michael as if that would make any difference to her fate. No one dared speak up, for no one wanted to defy the will of God.

“You’ll be serving our father more than you ever could have here in heaven. Don’t you see, you’ve been chosen, out of millions of angels, god’s children, to do this deed. To make a difference,” Michael’s soft voice spoke, reaching all ears without much effort. Crystal like tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as the angel shook her head, spreading her wings to get ready to fly away, only for a couple angels to finally step in and grab her arms.

“No! Let go of me! I don’t want to! I’ll die!”

You could feel your pulse increasing and clenched your fists to refrain from speaking. This was wrong, beyond wrong, but who were you to defy God’s wishes? He knew all, did he not? Yet you found yourself doubting him more and more as Amethyst struggled to escape. At war with yourself, you caved, spreading your large white wings and giving a single, strong flap, taking you over everyone else before landing once more, between Michael and the young girl. How could you, an angel of over three hundred years, allow such a young angel to suffer.

“Arch Angel Michael, you can’t do this!” You declared firmly, hands trembling lightly but standing strong. “I don’t see why God can’t just send an angel, an exterminator perhaps, down into hell to do his work? Why take someone’s halo from them? Their grace? It’s insanity!” Murmurs started back up at your sudden defence, familiar faces backing further into the crowd so they didn’t have to watch someone they knew make a fool of themselves. “I love God, he is my beloved father, but I can not stand by and watch this young woman lose even more after only dying recently. She stands no chance down there.”

“Miss (L/N), I would hold my tongue if I were you. If you continue to defy god, I cannot be held accountable for what may come next,” Michael warned you, fingers twitching by his side, ready to summon his holy weapon if you were to lash out. Your own hand longed for the comfort of your own holy weapon but you refrained from summoning it out of fear for what Michael may do to you.

“I will not let God or anyone else strip this angel of her halo without good reason. Send an exterminator,” you insisted, narrowing your eyes at your superior, holding up your brave front as best as you could but you could not deny the absolute terror prompting your heart to beat fast enough to harm had you been a regular human being.

You held Michael’s gaze, unwavering until you saw his tense body relax as a sigh escaped his lungs.

“Very well, Father has accepted. We will send an exterminator. Enjoy your time in Hell (Y/N) (L/N).”

Your eyes widened as your lips parted in horror. What? Gasps were heard from all around before you no longer felt God’s comforting warmth around you and the sensation of falling filled your very being. Oh, you were falling. No matter how hard you fought to spread your wings and catch yourself, you still plummeted. It hurt, no, it burned and after what seemed like eternity, you crashed.

Your body collided with a tall standing building, dropping through floor after floor and continuing a few feet after you hit the ground. The building soon followed, crumbling to the ground around your fallen from, unable to move out of the way. Yet nothing landed on you. With your arms and wings spread out, you stared up at the red sky above, dark yet somehow bringing light… Up, way above, was a white dot, much like the sun as it shone down on the earth, only now it was taunting you, reminding you of where you no longer were.

“Why have you forsaken me Father? Was I not right for protecting my fellow angels?” you barely whispered, the taste of blood finally reaching your tongue. You would heal in due time… nothing to fear. No, what you had to fear were the demons slowly making their way around you, gazing into the crater you had created with your ungraceful fall. Guess that’s what happens when you have your grace ripped away from you.

“Is that an angel?”

“What’s an angel doing in hell?”

“They don’t look like an exterminator. Fuck it, let’s take their wings.”

“Heh, you can have the wings, I’m after their halo.”

Voices chimed from all around you and all you could do was watch in a panic as you willed your body to move. You may not have had your halo anymore but you sure as hell weren’t going to let these demons take your wings! Your fingers twitched as the demons pushed each other around to get to you first, pulling weapons on each other despite knowing they could hardly kill each other without a holy weapon. Speaking of… You managed to close your fist and summoned your exterminator’s spear. Having the familiar weapon in your hands gave a wave of comfort to your sore body and an even bigger wave of energy.

While everyone was distracted with fighting each other off, you grunted, pushing yourself off the ground with the help of your spear to prevent you from going back over. It seemed everyone had noticed you stand up, shaking dirt and rubble out of your huge wings as an exterminator’s mask glitched over your face, crack running down the crossed-out eye as it struggled to stay activated. Perfect, a glitching mask. Just what you needed.

“Back off,” you growled, taking on a defensive stance, very aware of the fact that you were surrounded, and horribly wounded. The extent of your injuries could be figured out later, for now, you needed to get out of the open and find a place to hide out. You pulled your wings in tight against your back as all weapons were turned on you from those who hadn’t run off the moment your mask glitched into place. Good, a lot of them were smart enough not to mess with an exterminator. Well, ex-exterminator but they didn’t have to know that now did they?

Heart in your throat and pounding in your ears, you put up the fight of your life. So many demons usually feared exterminators, but many of these fools refused to back down, perhaps believing that they had a chance against a lone angel. You’d be ashamed to admit they were almost right, but luck seemed to be on your side, as you cut another demon down and dashed out of there, running down alleyways, running across empty streets and eventually finding yourself in an abandoned building, barely standing from ears of abuse. You recognised it, much to your own surprise, as a place you have been to before. You’d chased a demon here once. Killed them right in the corner you were sitting in, out of breath and body trembling from pain and fear. You hadn’t trembled so badly since your first extermination. Hell was a scary place, especially when you’ve never been there before. You’ve been here hundreds of times now, only this was your first time alone and with no clear way home.

Your heart didn’t slow all that much, your body too tense to possibly relax any time soon, but your breathing got better, much to the relief of your aching chest. Now calming down and somewhat safe, you uncurled and rid yourself of your mask, but kept your spear by your side. Just in case you needed to defend yourself again – but you weren’t so sure just how well you’d hold up in another fight so soon, so you could only pray that you were safe.

You stretched one of your wings out, curling it around yourself to inspect the damage, finding shards of glass stuck within the feathers and embedded in your wings, staining the once pure white feathers red. That was going to take a while to wash out… You heaved out a sigh and plucked out the shards of glass, causing your wounds to bleed some more but not dangerously. You did the same to the other wing and finally, felt yourself starting to relax when you realised that your wings weren’t broken, just damaged. They’d heal within time; you would be fine.

“Those are some nasty injuries you have there my dear! Why, I’d say you’ve had quite the fall,” a distorted voice suddenly spoke from one of the awfully dark corners of the room. Lifting your head quickly, you searched for the source of the voice, only to find two red, glowing orbs staring right back at you. How hadn’t you noticed them when you came inside?! No- they weren’t in here when you arrived, they had followed you. You quickly reached out for your spear, only for it to slap back down onto the hard ground as a dress shoe clad foot stepped down on it.

“Now, now, let’s not cause a scene, shall we? After the show you just put on, I doubt you’re in any shape to be taking anyone on any time soon,” he chided, kneeling down before you.

A tall man dressed in a red pin-striped suit, bright red and black hair and… hey would you look at that, he was a deer demon… and unfortunately, you recognised him. Exterminators typically knew a lot about those who roamed around in hell. For example, you could name a good number of the overlords, such as the man before you now, grin ever present on his face.

“Radio Demon…” you murmured, making his grin stretch wider as amusement shone in his eyes.

“My, the little angel knows who I am~” he hummed, grabbing your chin in a firm grip, turning your head this way and that as if to take a good look at you.

“You’re going to kill me then?” you questioned, your own (E/C) eyes staring intensely back into his. You were terrified, no doubt about that, but if you were going to die, then you would die fighting. The demon chuckled and shook his head.

“No, no, no, darling! Quite the opposite actually, I’m here to offer you a helping hand!” he declared, standing back up and making a microphone appear in his hand as he stepped off of your spear. Taking this as your chance, you picked it up and stood, holding your weapon defensively, pointed right at his chest.

“I hardly doubt you could help me demon. Now leave me alone before I end your sorry existence right here and now,” you warned him, hoping he’d just back down and maybe come back later. When you could actually stand a chance against him. He merely chuckled again, beginning to piss you off.

“Couldn’t I now? Not even if I offered you a 100% safe place to stay and assistance with your injuries?” he inquired with a raised brow.

You couldn’t afford to believe him. He was a demon, a liar, there was no way he wanted to help you out.

“How can I possibly trust you? Demon’s don’t do nice things for the sake of others, so what do you want?”

Alastor sighed but his smile never faded as he turned around and started to walk towards the exit of the building.

“I never said I was doing this from the good of my heart and what I want hardly matters either. It’s up to you if you trust me or not, but I’d remember where you are quickly. Not many here in hell are going to be so generous.”

So, what else was there to do but follow? After all, at this rate, you were going to die anyway. You never would have imagined that he would lead you to the very Hotel that started this ordeal in the first place.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor x reader #radio demon #fallen angel #fallen angel reader #angel reader #alastor x angel reader #reader is an exterminator #willing to write part two if wanted

548 notes · View notes

bird-in-a-cage · 4 years ago

Text

In today’s update of Whoops My Hand Slipped, and 100% inspired by smutty voice in my ear ( @cockasinthebird in case you couldn’t guess) and yesterday’s ravenous ghost talk, I present this. Enjoy!

E | 3157 | dubcon, spectrophilia, dom/sub vibes, choking, public sex, light nipple play

L Train

Steve fiddled with his tie, waiting on the platform for the red line to take him downtown. He was nervous, naturally. Not everyone got their foot in the door at Pierce and Pierce. But he had. And without his father's help. He had a job interview scheduled for ten. Nailing it was of the utmost importance. It meant he could stay in Chicago for one, his tiny uptown apartment with the windowsill lined with small succulent pots. It also would prove to his father that Steve wasn't a screw up. He could finally put his adolescent years and all the horrors they held to bed once and for all. Cut all ties with Hawkins and his family for good.

It was more than a job interview.

The platform gradually filled with commuters as the train pulled into the stop, already full of people. Steve had hoped getting a slightly earlier time would have meant it wouldn’t be so busy. He didn’t really want to have to ride an hour through the city crammed in like the fish in a trawler net he now was. But it would be okay. The journey didn’t matter, only the destination. He found a place to stand near a set of doors, facing outwards to watch the city go by, shifting his messenger bag to his front to keep it safe from pickpockets.

Steve knew there weren’t any, but his small town brain wouldn’t let those kinds of prejudices die.

The doors slipped close in front of Steve’s face before the train shuddered and shunted back into life, setting off at a pace through the city. Steve sighed silently to himself and ran through potential questions he might be asked, hands moving between playing with the strap of his bag, to the end of his tie, to brushing through the hair by his ears. All nervous habits and ticks. Never able to properly keep still. He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally picturing the interview. Placing himself as smooth and confident, with all the right answers. The total opposite to how he was in reality. Pierce and Pierce didn’t need to know who he really was.

Steve’s eyes flew open when he felt something touch his chest. There was nothing in front of him but the door, locked tight for safety. Maybe he had imagined the first, but the second time around there wasn’t a chance. It felt like a hand, open and splayed, right in the middle of his chest. The pressure of it slowly moving around to cup a pectoral muscle. It was strange to say the least. It didn’t feel like it was over his shirt though. It felt like it was directly against his skin. Steve glanced around. There was a man standing behind him but facing towards the rest of the carriage, nose deep in a folded up paperback. To Steve’s left was a woman in a pencil skirt, a black handbag pinned under her arm, again facing the carriage, focusing on nothing in particular with headphones on. Steve bit his lip before an embarrassing noise could be heard over the rattle of the engine as he felt fingers circling his sensitive nipple. His brain was suddenly spinning into overdrive, trying to work out what was happening and why. It wasn't another commuter and it certainly was far too direct to just be a haphazard breeze.

Mmm aren’t you a pretty one…

Steve felt his nipple being pinched as he probably resembled an owl, frantically looking around for whoever had spoken. But the voice that had floated around his head didn’t look like it came from anyone nearby. No one else was reacting if they had heard anything, or said anything even. It wasn’t a quiet voice either. Someone else would have definitely heard it. Steve hung his head and breathed hard through his nose. Now wasn’t the time for a breakdown, not on the biggest day of his life. Certainly the most important. Maybe that’s why it was happening. Stress and pressure. Steve closed his eyes again, just for a moment.

Nah ah pretty boy, let me see ‘em. You got real nice eyes.

Okay. No. This wasn’t happening. Not at all. Someone was playing a joke. A hideous prank. Steve kept his eyes shut on purpose now, ignoring the voice that was clearly just in his head. Trying to just breathe calmly and regain some form of composure. It lasted all of two seconds before his now hard nipple got another playful pinch. A noise bubbled in his throat that he had to pass off as a small cough.

Come on princess. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…

Steve furrowed his brow at that. What did that mean? He opened his eyes, just a crack, and glanced up from his shoes, nearly screaming when he saw blue eyes and a wicked grin suddenly in front of him in the impossibly small space. Steve blinked in fright and it was gone. Like it had never even been there. Breathing wasn’t helping anymore. Not when he could feel something running through his hair, raking fingers combing it back all the way to the base of his neck. It made Steve shiver down to his toes. He loved having his hair messed with. Even a trip to the salon was a danger for being slightly turned on by the hair wash station.

God what was happening? Why couldn’t anyone else hear this voice? Why did Steve suddenly see crystal blue eyes? Why was he having a breakdown now?

The hand left his hair and travelled down his spine, skin prickling in its firm wake, causing Steve’s back to arch with it. Down down until one hand became two and cupped his ass almost posessively. Another noise almost made its way out of Steve’s mouth in surprise.

Jesus baby, look at all this now. Goddamn shame for it to be all covered up in a monkey suit...

Was… Was that a complement? Steve shook his head, trying to get the voice to fall out of his ears, maybe shake loose the part of his brain that was shutting down and allowing any of this to happen. Certainly trying to shake away the thought that this actually felt good. That the hands now kneading his ass were actually pretty nice. Wide and definitely firm. Exactly what Steve liked. For a small moment he let himself enjoy it, maybe subconsciously pushing back, just a little, for more. The voice in his ear chuckled almost knowingly before the whole of Steve’s back just felt warm. Unnaturally warm. Stranger than if he was stood halfway under a heating vent or had his back against a radiator.

Let’s see what else you got huh?

The hands worked their way around Steve’s front, around his waist and down. Behind the messenger bag that was now having to hide the beginnings of a semi, through clothes that apparently he may as well not have even been wearing. Steve definitely felt a hand wrap around his cock like it was just out in the open, circlingly tight and giving one sharp tug. A noise bubbled and popped out of Steve’s mouth before he could stop it this time. An embarrassingly high moan because okay that really did feel good. Steve felt the flush burn his cheeks, keeping his head down towards the floor in the vain hope that no one was paying attention enough to know it was him. All lost in their own pre-work worlds. The voice laughed almost cruel in Steve’s ear. Mocking in a way as the phantom hand started playing more, working Steve into complete hardness, tenting his best work pants and pressing into the leather of the bag. Steve’s grip on the strap of it was turning his knuckles white.

God you’ve got a nice cock princess. Real nice. You got the whole package huh?

The whimper that left Steve’s bitten lips was shameful. He didn’t want this, didn’t ask for this, didn’t even know what was happening but, he didn’t really want it to stop. It had been a good few months since anything had touched him, aside from himself. And whatever was working him over felt so good. Practiced even. Different from Steve touching himself, tighter and rougher, but still good. He dug his feet firmer into the solid flood to stop his hips rocking into the feeling that was taking over, sweat starting to bead on his temples.

Mmm don’t be shy now baby. Bet a sweet lil’ thing like you just loves being all full…

Steve swallowed thick. What could that possibly even mean in this context? In the middle of morning rush hour on the busiest train Steve had ever been on in his life, shunting from station to station through Chicago towards the biggest opportunity he’d ever gotten, being groped and touched all over by an apparent ghost that just haunted the train? Was this a dream or a nightmare? Steve couldn’t even tell anymore. Maybe that was it. Maybe he was still in bed, having a stress dream. His alarm clock would blare any minute, he’d open his eyes and this would all be over. He’d be staring over at the closed bedroom door and not down at his shiny black shoes. He wouldn’t be feeling a small damp spot growing in his briefs. He wouldn’t feel the phantom hand leave his cock and start rolling his balls around slowly like marbles in a wide palm, and he certainly wouldn’t feel another hand around his throat, forcing his head up off the floor and towards the ceiling. An advert for insurance right there in front of him.

Bet you love suckin’ dick, huh pretty boy? Fuck, just made to take whatever you can get I bet. What I wouldn’t give to have those lips wrapped around me. Bet you could swallow me all the way down huh? No problem at all. Bet you ain’t had a gag reflex for a long time now...

Steve’s knees were starting to shake. This was all too much. He still wasn’t sure if it was a ghost or the voice of his subconscious ringing loud and true in his head. Because the voice wasn’t lying. Not even a little. The hand left his throat. Steve didn’t want to admit he missed it, feeling something that felt like a thumb press under the hinge of his jaw, fingers achingly close around his windpipe. He screwed his eyes shut, tight, trying to keep breathing and not pant or moan like his body wanted too, especially when the hand returned to his cock, now stroking with careless abandon.

Steve was going to come. He was going to come right in the middle of a subway train in his best suit less than an hour away from the biggest job interview of his life and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

But it wasn’t the stroking that was going to take him over the edge. No. It was the sudden feeling of something blunt and hot pressing up hard against his asshole. His eyes flew open and all he saw was his own reflection in the train doors, a flushed mess sweating out of his own skin like he’d come down with a sudden fever. Steve had enough life experience to know exactly what was going to happen. He couldn’t move from it, there was nowhere to go with everyone packed in like a sardine can. In true honestly he didn’t exactly want to move from it.

You want this baby? I promise it’ll feel so, so good.

Steve could only stare at his own reflection, his own eyes dark with lust and want and god he’d gone completely insane. The hands left his cock and wrapped themselves around his hips. Instinctively Steve arched back, practically presenting. That was his answer. He did want it. He wanted it bad.

Fuckin’ knew it...

The groan Steve heard in his head was sinful. So deep and sexy it was like the soundtrack of a porno playing just for him. But what he felt was even better. So impossibly good. Going from nothing to stretched out and full in just a few short moments with no pain. It was heaven. Steve couldn’t stop the small whimper from his throat even if he wanted too. The man reading the paperback coughed. Annoyed. He’d definitely heard that one. The voice laughed, rocked up and punched the air out of Steve’s lungs, those devilish hands letting go of Steve’s hips and travelling up to his chest again. This time deciding to play with both of his nipples, flicking and twisting and circling around and around. Steve wouldn’t have lips left after all this with how hard he was having to bite them.

He no longer cared what was happening. If he was having a breakdown then so be it, this all felt far too good. Like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Rock for me baby. Let me know you like it...

The voice was so sultry Steve had no option but to obey, rocking small on the balls of his feet. The voice moaned loud and deep and it just sent pure sparks along Steve’s spine. It definitely felt like something was inside him, something thick stretching him open and fucking him without a care. Steve felt it thrusting in and out, setting a brutal pace straight away that just wouldn’t be possible. God it was incredible. The small wet patch was getting bigger, threatening to leak through and stain, but Steve didn’t have the brain power to care anymore. He shifted his bag ever so slightly over the sensitive head of his cock, using three layers of different materials to his advantage, making his eyes roll back into his head. The voice just laughed and went harder. It was a miracle Steve was still on his feet. Was pretty sure whatever was fucking him was the only thing keeping him upright anymore.

Fuck, look at you. Such a little slut. So desperate for a dick you’ll take anythin’. Ain’t that right princess? Nod for me darlin’, you know I’m right. Say it outloud. I wanna hear it.

Steve bit his lip harder. He couldn’t. That was just too much. That would be admitting that this was good to the world. That wasn’t about to happen. A hand wrapped itself around his throat again, head being dragged back up to the insurance advert, locking eyes with a picture of a smiling woman holding a set of keys. Steve gasped and the grip was tighter this time. The other hand was back around his cock. God he could feel fingers everywhere. Splayed over the expanse of his throat and squeezing. Trailing through his weeping slit, wrapping tight on the strokes up and down then trailing again. The dick fucking him was getting harder somehow, brushing over his prostate with every other thrust. Steve was going to explode. This would be how he died. On the L Train red line. They’d find his corpse with a gaping asshole and drained of every ounce of cum Steve could possibly ever make. No evidence to be found. No motivation for a killer.

Come on pretty boy. Say it. Say you love my cock.

The hand tightened enough for Steve to choke and cough. His brain was swimming. A coil had formed hot in his gut, winding tighter and tighter. Jesus there was no way this was about to happen.

Say it!

“I love you cock…” Steve barely muttered out, gasps and a moan spilling out too. The man with the book coughed again but Steve didn’t care anymore. He was lost in a world of invisible hands and see through dicks and a voice, a deep deep voice that was grunting and panting hot next to his ear. Steve kept rocking back, a deep part of him wanting to just fall to his knees and let this ghost or whatever take him mercilessly.

Yeah you do. Yeah you do. Fuck!

Steve gasped at the feeling of wetness that wasn’t his own, deep inside him. That was extremely real. There was no way it couldn’t be. The ghost kept rocking into him, spilling and apparently milking himself in Steve’s body. He’d never felt so violated before. But it poured pure gasoline on the burning fire. With one more stroke of an invisible hand Steve came in his pants, whimpering like he was about to cry as the world whited out, falling forward to brace his hands on the door so he didn’t just crumble and fall apart. He panted through his nose, deep and hard and heavy. His briefs felt disgusting sticking against his spent cock. The voice laughed breathy, what was probably a nose brushing behind Steve’s ear with apparent affection.

Fuck, that was good. Thanks pretty boy.

And with that everything stopped. Steve was left alone, up against the train doors. The hands and voice totally gone. The only evidence of their presence was buried deep inside him. Steve ran off the train as soon as it pulled into the next station. If it was his he didn’t care. The first lungful of air was bliss. He gulped it down like water in a desert, trying to clear his head, staring at the steel vehicle. If his pants weren’t sticking to him so uncomfortably Steve would argue with himself if anything had even happened.

Blue eyes and that grin flashed through the glass of the doors. They winked and blew Steve a kiss before the train set off again, having to keep time through the city and its next stop.

Steve stayed on the platform for a while. A still beacon in an ocean of moving bodies, mentally trying to process what had happened but he just couldn’t. It was all far too much. Did he really just get fucked by a ghost? No, okay, one thing at a time. Pierce and Pierce. Job interview. He could ditch his briefs and try and block out this morning, he could still try. Piecing together his surroundings the office was only a few blocks away. He still had time to make it. Focus on one thing and one thing only. Don’t let them see the crazy. Prove everyone wrong.

Determined, Steve pressed on. His body felt truly fucked. His insides just felt wrong and out of place in a way that would be amazing if it wasn’t down to a spector’s wicked work. No. Don’t focus on that. Professional, not crazy. It was two blocks down that Steve came to a stop from his march, a sinking realisation setting in. Regardless of the outcome, he’d need to get the same train home. And that thought didn’t fill him with as much dread as it should have.

#harringrove #billy x steve #my writings #tw: dubcon #also on my ao3 #spectrophilia

111 notes · View notes

smutty-ki113r · 4 years ago

Note

Hi~ I wanted to hop on the match-ups as well cause I've read them and they're amazing. So could I request a romantic one? 👉👈

Hi, the name's Daniela but my friends call me Dina (pls call me Dina, after the Mr Worldwide post I wanna be your friend so bad 😭), I go by She/Her and I'm bisexual with a slight inclination towards males. I think I'm quite fun to be around, the most stupid things make me laugh and I can crack a few jokes even on the worst situations but at the same time I'm kinda serious, I get moody quite easily sometimes but for the most part I'm really bubbly. I suck at social interactions but I love people, so I'm absolutely an extrovert that's really scared to make people uncomfortable.

My insecurities are very much linked to me and my personality, I mean, I'm kinda self conscious of my weight and my body, but at the same time I always try to find beauty in myself, so much that it can lead to feeding my ego a little bit too much. And personality wise I feel like I can be really annoying, I like to feel special to the people I care about, so it lead to me being a really jealous person. Also I'm super competitive and that's not good at a certain point.

I like lots of stuff, very interesting things... I never really give much thought to the things I like, dang. I really like watching Anime and horror movies, drawing, going on walks, baking, I really really love to bake and clean, it's just so relaxing, ooh~ and I like dying my hair, a real fun activity if you ask me. In my friend group I'm chaos in person and also the one who's horny 25/8 and makes it known. Also, I'm known for hyperfixiating on anime characters (mostly mad scientists and intimidating blackhaired men). My music taste is quite normal, rock, punk, pop/punk, punk/rock, alternative rock, a bit of occasional metal. Some of my favorites are My Chemical Romance, Get Scared, Avril Lavigne, All Time Low, Three Days Grace, Hollywood Undead, Set It Off and Bring me The Horizon

The weirdest thing I do is thank the universe each and every morning for my incredible and amazing boobies 🥰🙏🖤🌸✨ and also I think being into esoteric stuff, crystals, demonology and that stuff could be considered a weird thing of mine(?) not sure how weird it actually is.

Oh yes yes, I just got admitted to college and imma be a Vet, super proud of myself, so I'm an animal lover. Btw I'm also libra, an ENFP with ego issues from time to time and an amazing person to dump your problems to (I love solving everybodies issues except mine). My ig is frutill.a, in case you need a physical description (don't be intimidated by how hot I am, I know I know, I'm amazing) and my abandoned art ig is frutill.art

For the ideal date thing? Yeah, cuddles, giving and receiving them, and eating, i like to be taken care of but also taking care of the other person(?. Even tho a picnic and cuddles under the stars sounds lovely. Yeah, maybe that's my ideal date, just doing something together at night that feels special to the both of us.

And to finish this up I just want to say that I love everything you do and you 😭 you're writing is so amazing, like just beauty, and I've read the other match-ups and they're so good, you're super duper talented and amazing. Keep up the good work and don't over do yourself, take care and keep it fun, I really look forward to see what other fic ideas you have in mind and I'll be there supporting whatever you come up with cause it'll be great. Kudos 🖤🖤🖤🤠

HI Dina, I match you with…..💞JEFF💞

Alright this was a hard one, quick quick why I didn’t match you with others. Demonology and EJ don’t mix, he has trauma. Plus, you seemed to be sort of similar to Jeff in some ways (not bad at all, you’re wonderful). I’m gonna go in order of what you talked about so that I can get my thoughts organized.

Stupid things make you laugh? At the worst possible times? At least you won’t be alone with Jeffy, he is the king of doing that, but he dosen’t exactly feel bad about it. AND you get moody often, Jeff too. Still, I feel like developing the relationship would take a while. You would have to constantly sit down with him and tell him what’s bothering you, open communication. Jeff is a master at feeding his ego, but he is fragile on the inside so be careful not to insult him, and once he warms up to you he is so so possessive. Does not want anyone else flirting with you at all, just goes to prove he thinks you might leave him for someone else.

He also loves horror (as we can tell) and he’s pretty much the chaos person too, you guys will bounce the energy off of each other for sure. //Also bro… what anime characters I have a thing for the murderers-// BUT BUT, set it off you say? Maybe go read some of this😏. I’m sure if you wake up next to Jeff he’ll be thanking the universe for your boobies too. HES AN ANIMAL LOVER TOO, and you being a vet is lovely, he wants to take care of his dog ya know?

I just know this man would bring you a rock thinking it’s a crystal. BRB BAWLING MY EYES OUT OVER THIS. Jeff isn’t one to dump his trauma on you, but he will tell you his current frustrations like how much Slender is pissing him off or something. He’s not very elegant but he would lay down a blanket and cuddle you if you like, once this man is attached he is attached. He loves being the big spoon in bed, and the little spoon too but don’t tell him I told you

He acts like he doesn’t pay attention but he really does, any slight changes in your mood and he will know what’s up. Very naggy about it, will try to pry it out of you (even though he doesn’t like other doing that to him), and gets angry if you don’t tell him. Just reassure him because he wants to help, he doesn’t want you to go to others for help when he’s right there.

Hope you liked this! BTW yes we ARE friends! Plz I almost cried at the Mr.Worldwide thing. I beg of you don’t let people dump their problems on just you, you need to have a space to share your struggles too. You can always message me, tumbler is like a safe place for me rn. I’m very understanding and wouldn’t ever make fun of you, I think that’s disgusting. You must be beautiful, I don’t have insta sadly. It got a bit toxic so-. You have great music taste, and I think you are a lovely person.

#jeff the killer headcanons #creepypasta #jeff the killer creepypasta #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x reader #Jeff the killer #creepypasta matchup #matchup #cp matchups #matchup.cafe #📯

5 notes · View notes

blessedsage99 · 4 years ago

Text

Why Lapis and Pearl Could Work As A Great Pairing

It is without a doubt that most people agree that Lapis and Pearl would do absolutely anything for Steven. Maybe not anything as Lapis jumped off to the nearest solar system to get away from conflict, but he is in fact the one person she would indefinitely pull out extra stops for (ie; willing to indulge befriending Peridot, live on and try earth, go into the ocean once more, etc) . But I do not think that would be the one of the driving forces between their relation but it might be one of the factors to goad them into trying and befriending each other. And perhaps…. More.

Similarities On a surface level you can perhaps glean several similarities, perhaps similar shadow and body type, sasuke pointing hair… And then another layer and find their personalities are vastly different. Pearl is very educated, prefers order, dramatic, emotional, enjoys engaging in combat, very forgiving (ex; is quick to forgive Peridot once she actually makes the amends to not call her an object), and does her best to make up for mistakes (ex; several episodes of making it up to Garnet).

Lapis is very lazy and blase, the barn she and Peridot have formed together has no sense of order and moreso chaos, she instantly flies at the first sight of conflict, is the least forgiving gem out there (ex; holds it against the crystal gems for pretty much the entirety of the series, and Peridot goes lengths and miles to try and get Lapis forgive her and still is unable to and it takes Steven to intervene and scold her to make an attempt), and honestly? Lapis hardly ever apologizes for her mistakes versus Pearl. She shows signs of guilt but she never really apologizes to Peridot for anything she’s done to her nor Steven nor… Well, really anyone else, except in Future.

But that aside, it’s when you think about their more lighthearted sides and trauma is where most of their similarities lie.

Hobbies

As off as it sounds, it’s fairly essential in pretty much any relationship to cross over a few hobbies, even if you don’t share everything, it often all starts with something along those lines. And Pearl and Lapis share a huge chunk of their hobbies, believe it or not.

Both Lapis and Pearl definitely enjoy reading, Pearl being the educational beast she is and Lapis probably enjoys the relaxed activity. In fact their genres might be even similar as Lapis and Pearl enjoy reading odd textbooks (ex; The hairstyles book for Lapis, and the engineering book for Pearl) and both enjoy dramas (albeit, perhaps this might be different) like Camp Pining Hearts and Pearl was willing to write a play and overseer one in Jamie’s case. This perhaps is b-level canon however, in the comic issue Camp Pining Play, Lapis is willingly engaging in participating and acting out in a play, she even enjoys it.

If given incentive of enjoying the subject already, Lapis is willing to perhaps enjoy the drama of things along with Pearl.

Both enjoy singing, if we’re going off Lapis was previously like other Lapis, that would mean singing and dancing is looked down upon on her caste. So the fact she even makes the attempt to do so in Distant Shore means she’s practicing in it, and if we want to add another layer of it, in the game Unleash the Light, one of Lapis’s key items is the Crying Breakfast Friends Sing-Along. And who else enjoys karaoke? Pearl (ie; the commercial karaoke). Also Lapis does it in Future so like if you want canon material it’s right there in Why So Blue.

This is a bit of a stretch but it’s clear that Lapis enjoys the arts which her participation in the class and what the heck else she does with Peridot in the barn, and Pearl has at the very least has experience in it. (ex; the drawing she makes, despite her humble opinion, makes it clear she’s done it before, in fact I’m willing to bet she even painted that fucking painting of Rose Quartz) It perhaps could lead to some more experience and artworks together if you know what I mean…

Casting that aside, it’s clear the two have a main stream of things to enjoy together should they choose to versus some other couples. (And different ones should they choose to introduce the other, Pearl with baking and sword fighting and Lapis with farming and flying, etc)

Traumas

Now this is the important part, I’m willing to argue they both can share extremely similar and relate to each other’s problems. They just have vastly different ways of coping with it, or well… They both have some similarities there as well, but we’ll address that in the next paragraph-ish.

But the biggest one? Both miss their homeworld. Dearly.

In fact it’s the driving force for Lapis’s introductory episodes and one of Pearl’s where she tries to get Steven into a rocketship back to her home. Both are ancient and dusty as fuck, or well, at least heavily implied to be ancient with the fact of Pearl commenting she learned the sword when she was only ten thousand years old (Sworn to the Sword iirc), the war was six thousand which implies Pearl learned before it. And Lapis, it’s merely conjecture however the fact that Lapis isn’t a vegetable after and still has a strong sense of identity after being in the mirror for 4 thousand years says something (ie; My name is LAPIS LAZULI!), the likely conclusion is the fact it’s because that’s not even close to how old she is. It’s only a fraction of her lifetime, which means both are… Well, old as hell. And even more likely? They come from the same ‘homeworld’ unlike Peridot or Amethyst who were made after and Garnet who has herself.

The second one is the one both of them likely have their divisive opinions on, especially as they were from opposing sides of it, is that they were both part of the War.

Both obviously have their trauma’s from it, as shown as Pearl in ‘A Single Pale Rose’ she’s still traumatized over the thousands of shattered gems (which is essentially corpses to her) she was forced to witness right after the war, and Lapis being forced to watch inside the mirror as everyone condemns her to being a crystal gem. I’m willing to bet she saw everyone die while inside the thing as well. As well as considering Lapis never really got over anything as she was gonna literally yeet herself away at the mere IDEA of the war… Well, who else could help her but another person who knows the horrors as well? And Pearl has experience as she had a support system unlike Lapis who got worse and worse purely just by being herself.

Moving on as I don’t have a cool and smooth transition... This might be a bit of a stretch, but the last thing they both share very heavily over is the fact both were objectified.

Pearl was born to be an object, whereas Lapis was forced to become one, the mirror. And both consistently fight over the fact throughout most of the series. In the movie, the thing that makes Pearl remember herself is the freedom to be herself, and when she returns to her homeworld she’s forced to be reminded of her place when she talks to Holly Blue and returns to Steven in the final season. Lapis is obviously shook over it and holds it against the fact she always feels like she’s being used, (‘[...] AND YOU CAN’T KEEP ME TRAPPED ANYMORE!’) she longs for a safe place and to be free just as well just as Pearl does and the freedom to express herself (ie; her art). And who else but Pearl----- *coughcouhgcough*

Differences

I covered this in the first part where it's obvious the two have very vast differences when it comes to their personalities. But I find it important to have differences as both have something to bring to the table with their differences, no? Another essential part of a working couple.

And to quickly cover what I had before, their personalities. Pearl is literal and Lapis is sarcastic, Pearl is outwardly emotional and sobs and Lapis moodily and angrily exists, so on and so forth. How does this work? It’s also one of the hardest parts of their relationship, should they ever try it out because one of their biggest differences, is one of their flaws in a relationship as proven over and over.

Pearl is all give and no take, and Lapis is all take and no give. Which is a mix for a toxic relationship, as Pearl would constantly be giving to Lapis as Pearl’s entire worth as shown in her previous relation was all about what she would give to Rose, or else she was nothing. Even by the end of the main series she still needs to be reminded she’s still something without her. And Lapis’s emotional baggage? Let’s face it, Lapis is selfish and it’s all about her. She’s angry? She’s gonna fuck you up (ie; Jasper and the two Lapis), Lapis doesn’t want to deal with war? She doesn’t even think twice about what Peridot wants, and jumps away despite Steven calling out towards her.

But, but, but, but… It’s also a mix for something amazing as after their development, they’re kind of the perfect people to call each other out. In theory of course should they communicate.

Lapis would teach Pearl to be a little more selfish and care about her own needs, whereas Lapis needs constant reminders to actually take notice about what others want and feel (ex; the way she immediately rushes in and notices Steven’s expression at the last moment). It’s clear that Pearl isn’t willing to be treated that way should Lapis do so (ex; the way she snapped back at Peridot and towards Holly Blue) and Lapis upon caring enough? Is in fact willing to try to do better (ex; Why so blue, and Alone at Sea). It’s just that Lapis is farther behind on maturity (considering she ran away and panics instantly twice in a row). They can strike a perfect balance should they put the effort to do so, which would lead to the possible second problem they might have and would need to work through.

And the second difference the two of them have?

Fusion.

It’s the one trauma Lapis has that Pearl wouldn’t understand, and, it’s something Pearl clearly finds something addicting or to use above others. In fact she needed a crash course on it with the string of episodes of what she did to Garnet. Because Pearl is the kind of person who would desperately try so hard to not repeat the same mistake, she’s probably she’s willing to wait a millennia about it or even be fine with never fusing with Lapis. Because consent is important, but I think because of her actual experience with good and loving fusions? She might not be actually be a bad candidate for helping Lapis should she ever want to try again.

The Biggest Conflict

Now, for the biggest problem of the relationship. Uh, let’s be real here…. Despite all these arguments and nice claims and all.

Lapis doesn’t like Pearl, at all. Perhaps she even holds the biggest grudge against Pearl because Pearl was the one who literally carried her around in the mirror for a good chunk of time, doesn’t even bother to learn who she was, and even was willing to bubble her and trap her further. And Lapis probably has incentive to keep it against her for purely that fact as she was holding it against Peridot for the same fact, except for the fact Pearl has made zero amends to apologize for it. So why would Lapis ever want to talk to her?

You might consider the possibility of Steven but it’s not his job to make them friends. The only thing the two of them would do for him is to pretend to be friends, as shown in ‘Hit the Diamond’ and ‘Gem Harvest’ but otherwise, there’s clear distaste from Lapis’s side (ie; The New Crystal Gems) and her consistent ‘fuck the crystal gems’ attitude from the beginning. Maybe for him they might try something however I doubt it’s enough.

Regardless, I do believe an apology is due on both sides whenever they are ready. And that would be the start of perhaps their romantic relationship shenanigans which I consistently desire. Also I’m a slut for tense relationships to friendship to lovers if people would just---

Anyway I think there’s a lot more material for them to work with and they might actually be a pretty awesome couple

#steven universe #su meta #pearlapis #lapearl #steven universe analysis #pearl #su analysis #lapis lazuli #pearl (Su)#sage text #meta #i like geniunely thought about this a lot i lay awake at night thinking about them i just FEEL LIKE THERES MORE THAN WHAT PEOPLE BELIEVE Ok

95 notes · View notes

datheetjoella · 4 years ago

Text

Fantober 2020, Day 17: Haunted

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 17/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,761 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, School Festival, Haunted House, Mentions of Fake Blood Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

---------------------------------------

Ever since elementary school, the cultural festival had been something Makoto looked forward to all year. In the weeks leading up to it, the atmosphere surrounding the school was even more pleasant and amicable than usual as everyone put in effort to make their class' event stand out. Preparing their event was a lot of fun, but the real fun came when their hard work came to fruition and the festival began. Seeing what all his classmates came up with, showcasing what his class made, enjoying all kinds of food at the various stalls and cafés, watching recitals and plays, it was a blast from start to finish. It was a time of unity between classmates and at the end, he was left feeling satisfied and fulfilled.

Makoto hadn't expected the enjoyment of it would dwindle when he got to university. On the contrary: everything was on a much grander scale and there were a lot fewer restrictions than in high school. Because of his job, Makoto wasn't in a club and therefore hadn't participated in the organisation, but he'd been looking forward to going to the festival with Haruka and experiencing what his friends had been working on for so long.

But more than twelve years of amusing cultural festivals were at risk of being destroyed in a single minute.

"Come on, Tachibana," Takagi said. "It's not that scary, I promise."

The axe headband sticking out between his copper-coloured locks and the fake blood trailing down his forehead did not support his claim. The instant Makoto spotted his friend, he had let out an audible shriek, drawing the attention of everyone in the hallway and sending his own blood rushing to his cheeks.

"You don't have to, Makoto," Haruka said from beside him and although he appreciated his support, it only strengthened Makoto's doubt.

Takagi had been a good friend of his since day one of university. They sat next to each other in Psychology and hit it off right away, agreeing to swap notes and help each other wherever they could. Quickly thereafter, Takagi had joined the Movie Research Club and, in collaboration with the Creative Writing Club, they had created a haunted house for the festival.

According to the advertisement posters, it was supposed to be like stepping inside a horror movie, a storyline the visitor was the protagonist of. That description set off numerous alarm bells in Makoto's head. He avoided haunted houses like the plague and vehemently refused to watch horror movies and this brought the worst of two worlds together.

The decision of whether or not to partake in this particular event seemed crystal clear. After all, he had strategically evaded the haunted houses in past festivals and had planned to continue this streak. But there was one roadblock: Makoto was a giant pushover.

"We all worked so hard on this and I would love for you to see what we made." Takagi slapped his hands together and bowed his head, nearly smacking Haruka with his axe-handle. "It's like a compilation of horror movie clichés, so it's more funny than anything. But if you do think it's too scary, I'll treat you to whatever you want."

There it was. It was not so much the promise that persuaded him, but the fear of disappointing his friend.

"W-Well, if you insist it's not that scary…" Makoto trailed off with an awkward chuckle.

"Thanks man, I appreciate it," Takagi said with a pat on Makoto's shoulder. "I hope you enjoy it. You too, Haru!"

With that, he stormed off to a group of young women to coax them into entering the haunted house as well.

The exchange left a frown on Haruka's face. "How am I on a first-name basis with your friend but you aren't?"

The dry comment dissipated some of the tension gripping Makoto's stomach. "Sorry, I think it's because I talk about you so much."

"Hm," Haruka hummed, and when he was sure Takagi was out of earshot, he said, "Makoto, you don't have to go in if you're not comfortable. I can go in by myself and tell you about it afterwards, in case he asks you what you think of it later."

Despite feeling like he was seconds removed from willingly throwing himself off a cliff, Makoto smiled. "Thanks, Haru, but I'll go with you. He said it wasn't that scary, so I should be fine."

Except he wasn't fine. The instant he stood before the room and heard the eerie music, Makoto knew he made a huge mistake.

When they entered the house, they got a handful of cards with dialogue options that they would need for certain checkpoints, then the interactive movie began. There was no way back.

Following the story that was being portrayed, Haruka and he moved into a vacant house that was far cheaper than the surrounding lots in the neighbourhood - a house Makoto would never buy in reality for obvious reasons. Right away, strange things began to happen in the house: lights flickered, keys clinked, lamps fell over and the phone rang, but when Haruka picked up, the line was dead. That was already enough to have Makoto clinging to Haruka's arm.

"It's alright, Makoto," Haruka said, rubbing his skin with his thumb. "Just close your eyes and try to think of something else. I'll guide us through."

Haruka's advice was a small comfort, but it was futile. Makoto's heart was actively trying to burst through his ribcage and his fight-flight-or-freeze instinct had kicked in, therefore he couldn't tear his eyes away from any of the things that were happening around him. Logically, he knew everything was fabricated by his peers, but it felt so real. This was exactly why he hated horror. How could anyone enjoy being scared?

When Makoto had unsuccessfully convinced Haruka it was fine, they continued. They had to investigate the reason behind these weird occurrences and found out that a hundred years ago, a young girl was murdered inside their house. It had been haunted ever since by various vengeful spirits and the only way to break the curse that had befallen the house was to figure out who the killer had been.

What the conclusion to the story was, Makoto didn't even care. A light, feminine voice ruptured the silence, ominously whispering about bringing forth suffering to those who had wronged her; suffering that exceeded the torture she endured. Makoto clamped onto Haruka's shoulders as he scanned the room to see where it was coming from. A short girl in torn, ivory robes emerged from the darkness, hunched over with her long dark hair obscuring her stark white face. She glided closer and when she stood before them, she looked up and revealed her pitch-black eyes.

When she popped up into his field of vision, Makoto screamed so loudly it alerted all the orcas within a thousand-mile radius. He nearly jumped on Haruka's neck in an attempt to hide his large frame behind Haruka's smaller one.

Fortunately, the girl noticed how genuinely terrified he was. She recoiled and forwent her script in favour of asking if he was alright, voice a bit heavier than the childlike tone she put on. Before Makoto could come with excuses, Haruka spoke up.

"He's not alright. Is there a way for us to leave?"

The girl nodded. "Code yellow!" she yelled, her voice vibrating throughout the area, then she turned back to them. "You can walk through now. No one will bother you."

"Thanks," Haruka said, and he tugged Makoto along by the hand. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Shame filled Makoto's senses, but when they passed through the rest of the haunted house and he saw the bloodied decor and props, relief washed over him. If he had to stay for the rest, he would either leave crying or in a fear-induced coma, so this was better for everyone involved.

What he did take away from this was that he would no longer trust Takagi's judgement. More funny than anything, he said. The only funny thing that happened inside that haunted house was Makoto's pathetic reaction.

When they were finally outside in the daylight again, Haruka dragged him over to a bench. Once he was seated safely, Makoto's soul returned to his body and his back slumped like all the life force had been sucked out of him.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up at Haruka with blazing cheeks. "I'm sorry, Haru. Because of me, you didn't get to experience the haunted house like it was intended."

Haruka merely shrugged. "As if I care about that. I just want you to be comfortable. But you do need to grow a spine."

"I know," Makoto said, head hanging low, "My childish fears always ruin everything."

"That's not it," Haruka said with a squeeze to Makoto's knee. "It's not weird or embarrassing to be scared of these things, a lot of people are. But next time, you need to come out for it and reject these offers right away. Stop being so afraid of letting people down and straight-up tell them no if you don't want to do something."

It was hard, but Haruka was right. He was an adult now and he should act like one. That included setting boundaries and adhering to them. "You're right. I'll tell Takagi-kun I couldn't handle it and that I won't go in next time. From now on, no more haunted houses or anything else ghost or murder-related for me."

"Good," Haruka said, bidding him a gentle smile that calmed Makoto's overworked heart. "Takagi owes us, but we'll find him later. First, is there anything you still wanted to see or do?"

The terror within his gut mellowed out and he smiled back at Haruka. "Well, I saw a sign for a sweets café earlier. Maybe we can check that out?"

"Sure. My treat," Haruka said and Makoto opened his mouth to protest, but he sent him a look that made it clear there was no room for argument.

Hand in hand they strolled over the campus towards the building that hosted the café. Haruka asked him what kind of pastries he was hoping they'd have and Makoto's mouth began to water at the thought of cakes and brownies.

If there was anyone who could chase off all the bad images and demons that resided in Makoto's mind, it was Haruka. It had been like that since they were kids and it would stay that way even as they grew older, because some things never changed.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #my fic #fantober2020 #colourful days with you

33 notes · View notes

naughtydaaikon · 5 years ago

Text

A Rose By Any Other Name...

Title: A Rose By Any Other Name... (Chapter 1/2)

Also on Ao3!

Fandom: Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Rating: T (warnings for major character death, but it’s not gonna have a sad ending, I promise!)

Word Count: 7,480 words

Summary:

Death wasn’t as dramatic as stories made it out to be.

Nene had read plenty of books growing up. Romance, drama, horror (her favorite!), and of course, tragedies. She had never been a big fan of that particular genre. It was always too melodramatic for her tastes, and not in the whimsical, romantic way that she liked. Death was always tragic, that was undeniably true, but in the stories, it always seemed as though the dying person would cling desperately to life, fighting with every fiber of their being to cling to that one final breath. Nene didn’t fight when she died.

Oh, she had thought as it hit her. I’m dying.

That sucks.

Predictably, Nene dies. Fortunately, contrary to what Hanako claimed, death wasn't necessarily the end.

Notes: Okay, so like this was posted on ao3 forever ago, and I just realized that I never posted it here, so I’m correcting that right now, I guess. I hope you all enjoy. Please leave a comment, like, and reblog if you enjoy. Also shoot a message to me if you want to talk Hananene. I forget about tumblr sometimes, but I will surely answer eventually.

-------

...Would still smell just as sweet.

-------

Kamome Academy was a place where legends were born and made real.

The school had been the one unchanging fixture within Shibuya of what was now Tokyo’s bustling financial district. Kamome had stood for a near century, its walls still made from the same stone that had been used to construct it all of those years ago, back when it had first been built over an old wooden school house that shared its land with an old Shinto shrine to the god, Inari.

There were strong spiritual roots here, even in the iron jungle that was Tokyo.

Perhaps that was the reason so many spirits were born here — were bound to this place.

Within the crowded, lively halls of Kamome Academy, secrets and rumors had a way of becoming tangible; real. All you really had to do was breathe life into that secret and it would animate itself.

Or in some cases — reanimate.

“Hey, have you heard this rumor?” A girl leans close to her friend during their lunch period. They sit at the same desk, hunched over, giggling. It is here that a rumor is whispered, a rumor to be spread. “If there’s someone that you love with all your heart, you should go to Kamome’s outdoor pool. If you throw a 5 yen coin into the pool and wish for your lover to be yours, the mermaid who lives in the depths of the pool will grant your wish.”

“Really?”

“Yes! It’s said that when she was alive she fell in love with a mortal that she couldn’t have, for she was a mermaid and he was a human. In the end, she tried to change her fate.”

“And then what happened?”

“What do you think happens when you try to change your destiny? She turned into sea foam and died!”

And so, she was born. Or was it reborn?

Just — like — that.

-------

Death wasn’t as dramatic as stories made it out to be.

“No -- no, Yashiro! You’ve got to fight! No, no, no--”

Oh, she wanted to fight, of course. She wanted to kick, to punch, to scream about how badly she wanted to live. She wanted to perform a long soliloquy about the unfairness of it all, the spotlight shining directly on her as she decried her fate. After all, who wanted to die at sixteen? There was still so much that she hadn’t done!

“Yashiro, hold on!”

She hadn’t gone on a real date, hadn’t gone on a long romantic walk underneath the starlight, nor had she been swept off of her feet, or even kissed. The subject of her own mortality had been a constant burden that she had carried with her since living in Shijima’s pseudo-perfect world. How could she not think about it, after all? Though, at the moment of death, it was as though all those feelings crashed within her, and the impact was both sudden and brutal. It was a strange duality, wanting so badly to live, and yet having not a slither of energy or ability to fight off that impending finality.

It was her fate, after all.

No, she couldn’t fight.

Nene had simply slipped away.

One moment, she was there — filled with light, with warmth. She had been helping Hanako with something — though, that was difficult to remember. What had she been helping him with? A yorishiro, perhaps. Yeah, that sounded right. One moment, she had been reaching to undo the

seal on a yorishiro. An action that she had done so many times before. She hadn’t even considered that this would be the moment that the sand within her hourglass would finally run out.

That was all that it took.

She doesn’t even feel being stabbed.

Then she’s losing feeling in all of her limbs, growing numb — cold.

“Yashiro!”

The most difficult part of dying, Nene thought, had been lying in Hanako’s arms as he held her and screamed. She remembered that with almost crystal clarity. Had she ever seen him cry before? Yes, she had. Thrice -- once as Amane, when he had still been full of life, bruised and sobbing in an empty classroom. Then once more on the school’s rooftop after he had encountered his brother, and again back in the painted world as he admitted how badly he wanted her to live. She had felt awful, then. He wanted her to live, to survive — and she wouldn't, even when he had taken on her wish to live for another 99 years.

An impossible wish.

Too impossible to grant.

A selfish wish. Just who was she to try to defy fate, after all?

She had promised herself that she would never be the source of those tears again, though. I’m just breaking all of my promises, she thought as she gazed up at him, his voice growing so far away. His voice sounded like nothing more than a distant, far off echo. He seemed so alive right now -- amber eyes burning, red and swollen with tears, as though he had true flesh to bruise and swell. He had been trembling, shaking her as he cried her name again and again.

Oh, she had thought as it hit her. I’m dying.

That sucks.

Nene had wanted to comfort him, to cup his cheek and promise that everything would be fine. She would be fine. She wanted to lie to him -- to assure him that her own mortality was nothing but a fallacy to be ignored. What happened? She wondered, watching his expression, as tears that she could not feel fell onto her skin. They should have been wet. Under normal circumstances, she might’ve even panicked about him getting her skin wet. Didn’t he know that she’d turn into a fish if she got too wet?

And with that last, foolish thought — she was gone.

Here — and then not.

No, death wasn’t the hard part.

It was leaving him behind -- knowing that she had caused that pain within his eyes. That was the hardest part.

------

It was a bright and sunny morning when she regained consciousness.

At first, she hadn’t found anything to be amiss. The school bell hadn’t even rung yet as Nene stood just beyond the entrance to the school building. Strange, she thought to herself, looking around and taking in her surroundings. It was still too early for the rest of her classmates to arrive, earlier than she normally even came into school. Had she needed to finish something for Aoi in the gardening club? That was usually the only time that she came in early. “That has to be it,” she said, satisfied with her answer.

Something had felt off.

It was an odd feeling, as though her skin was pulled too tightly over her own body, as though her organs didn’t fit correctly inside of her. There was an acrid, bitter taste in her mouth that just didn’t seem to dissipate. Something was wrong; she couldn’t place just what. Nene’s lips twisted into a frown as she tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. Come to think of it, she didn’t remember even coming to school. She didn’t even remember the previous day. Had she cleaned the toilets with Hanako? Had she eaten dinner? What had her mother prepared for her and her father? Her stomach felt -- off. There was a dull throbbing sensation in her belly, as though she had eaten something that hadn’t sat right with her. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the spot.

Had she remembered to clean Black Canyon’s cage? She had to clean it out every Wednesday.

What day even is it? Nene wondered, that awful feeling only growing, like bile rising in her throat. She could feel it gathering in her throat as she made it to the school gardens. It was empty, of course. It was still far too early for anyone else to be there. She looked around, checking the soil and growing even colder as she did so.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Something was very wrong.

The last time she had gone to her gardening club, they had harvested the tomatoes and cucumbers that had finally finished growing. She knew that she had meant to come in early and plant new vegetables for the summer season like Aoi had asked her to do, and if Aoi had delegated the task to Nene, that meant it was her job to get it done and hers alone.

And yet --

All of the summer vegetables had already been planted. Some of them were even fully grown. The squash plants were large and supple. They would need to be pulled soon.

How much time had passed?

When was it?

It couldn’t still be Spring. Hadn't the trees just been blossoming with soft pink petals days before? Calm down, she thought to herself, though it felt as though her heart was about to burst out of her chest. Her hands felt cold and clammy, as though they were covered in sweat.

One, two. Breathe.

Try to remember. There had to be an explanation for all of this —

What was it —

The memory came to her suddenly, barrelling through her mind like a bullet train.

-- There had been new supernaturals that had cropped up, plaguing the schools with their wretched pranks. Hanako had called them Amanojaku, imp-like troublemakers who had begun appearing around the school, whispering in the ears of the students before their cruel persuasion eventually incited the object of their torment to mischief and violence. It had started with arguments amongst the students within Nene’s class. Simple things -- everyone just seemed more on edge than usual, until the moment that Lemon-kun had thrown a punch right at Akane-kun’s face.

And then...

And then what?

It’s fine! She thought, even though she was already falling to her knees, nerves threatening to overtake her. I can just ask Hanako! He’ll know what happened!

She’d talk to him — and then he’d fill her in. Then, everything would make sense —

“Yashiro?” A voice whispered. She could barely even hear it, though she recognized the voice immediately. She could feel her breath catch in the back of her throat. Hanako! She thought. Good! It was just the person who she wanted to see! Nene smiled, all but scrambling to her feet as she turned around to face him. He was the same as he normally was — translucent as the rays of sunlight shone through his body. It was as though he was there, and yet not. A fading fixture in a solid world.

Haku-joudai hovered around him, though the two orbs appeared to be agitated about something. They shook in place, dashing around him as though in a frenzy. Hanako, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch.

“Hanako-kun!” she cried, delighted as she began to run towards him. “Something really weird is going on!” Tears of frustration and relief filled her eyes.

It was only then that something about his reaction struck her as strange. Normally, Hanako would’ve already been all over her, wouldn’t he have? He’d be floating near her, arms wrapped around her as though he were a second skin.

But —

Hanako hadn’t made a single move towards her. He simply stood there, staring at her, lips parted in what seemed to be disbelief.

Wasn’t he normally happy to see her?

His usual cheshire smile was gone, replaced with a look of pure horror. His large eyes seemed even wider, pupils constricted as his body trembled hard. “Yashiro,” he breathed, sounding as though the very action of speaking was a laborious effort. “Yashiro — I’m so sorry.”

An apology.

What was he apologizing for?

She laughed, unsure of herself. “Hey,” she said, taking another hesitant step towards him, as that feeling of wrongness in the pit of her stomach only mounted. Why was he looking at her like that? The expression of his face was difficult to place. His eyes seemed swollen, lips quivering. It was like he didn’t want to look at her. Was he feeling guilty? “What are you apologizing for?” She couldn’t remember. Had she complained to him about cleaning the toilets again? It wasn’t like him to be sorry over something like that, though.

She smiled, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Hanako-kun.” She grabbed his hand, meaning to calm him. The moment that she does, however, she noticed that his hand felt different. It wasn’t cold. In fact, she could feel a warmth emanating from him. It was reminiscent of how his skin had felt in the picture world. Soft. Warm.

Strange.

“Hanako-kun -- I’m glad that I ran into you here,” and truly, she was. She could mull over the warmth of his skin later. Finally, things would begin to start making sense!

“I wanted to ask you what happened the other day?” she began slowly. “With the Amanojaku!”

No answer.

Why was he looking at her like that?

“Hanako-kun?”

He swallowed as though there was something thick trapped within his throat. “Yashiro,” from the moment that he spoke, he seemed to come back to himself. He was pale, shivering as he slowly lifted a hand to her cheek. He squeezed the hand that she was holding, before lacing their fingers together. “Yashiro,” he repeated her name, but it sounded like he was in pain.

He still hadn’t answered her.

Hanako leaned against her, moving so close that for a moment, she thought that he might kiss her. She grew warm, cheeks burning when he rested his forehead against her. His eyes squeeze closed. He felt as though he were actually alive. How was that possible? Hanako’s touch had always been cool, but his skin was so warm that Nene couldn't help but melt into it. As bemused as she was, it felt nice to be held like this by him. Like she belonged there -- in his arms. The school was quiet all around them, and for a moment, she wondered if time had stopped.

The romance novels that she read often described moments like this. It was the moment that magic became real, and the feelings of the two lovers became too overwhelming to be contained. Perhaps there would be a confession — an embrace or even a warm kiss. Nene felt swollen with excitement.

It felt — perfect.

Right.

“You need to move on,” he spoke suddenly, jolting her right out of her thoughts.

— And the spell had been broken.

“Move on?” She asked quietly. She didn’t understand what he meant. Move on from what?

His eyes averted, looking lower, towards her abdomen. His skin seemed to turn ashen before his eyes flickered back to hers. “You — you don’t feel that?” He asked quietly. His question makes her pause.

Feel what?

“Why aren’t you answering my questions?” It didn’t make any sense. This evasiveness was ridiculous even for Hanako, who always kept his secrets locked close to his heart. It was normal for him to use a question or some other means to distract her when he wanted to keep his lips sealed, but this was far too much. He kept on answering her questions with more questions. Really -- there had to be a limit to how much Hanako could keep from her!

His eyes flickered back down to her abdomen again.

He grit his teeth, untangling their fingers to her disappointment and bringing them to rest on her shoulders. “Look down,” said Hanako, choosing to be evasive once more. Still, his insistence that she look at herself made her hesitate. She didn’t want to. She wanted to fight him more -- to demand that he answer her questions, but from the look within his eyes, Nene could tell that this was serious. She was missing something important.

But what was that?

Nene could feel that harsh, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach returning. Come to think of it -- didn’t her belly hurt? There was a dull throb there, right beneath her ribs. It didn’t feel like a stomach ache. No, the pain was much sharper. It had been building since the moment that she woke up in front of the school. Finally ripping her eyes away from Hanako’s she looked down at herself.

-- And then she saw it.

A gaping hole, ripped ragged and bloody,was torn right through her. It was right beneath her ribs. Crimson blood stained her uniform. There was so much of it. The skirt of her uniform was entirely ruined, soaked through with the fluid. She could even feel the warm, sticky substance seeping into the fabric of her tights. “...What…?” she whispered. The pain dissipated, leaving only a numbness in its wake. And cold -- it was so cold. A part of her had been gouged out and she hadn’t even noticed. Not until now.

“Hanako-kun,” her voice shook. “Hanako-kun -- my stomach--”

She’d been stabbed.

She’d been stabbed —

She’d been stabbed.

“Yashiro!” Hanako’s voice brought her back, grounding her. He pulled her against him tightly, his body a solid anchor within the chaos that had begun to swirl inside of her. Her visage flickered, as though she were nothing more than a candle about to be snuffed out. “Yashiro! Stay focused! I know -- I know this can be confusing at first,” his fingers ran through her hair, brushing through the strands like he had done before when he had come to harass her during her English class before. “It sometimes takes awhile to get a sense of yourself again.” His grip on her was crushing, but she relished in the feeling of it. Hanako made sense, even if none of this did. “Focus on me, okay?”

She could do that. Nene closed her eyes, breathed deeply. She filled lungs that no longer required air, and shook like a leaf in the autumn wind. The air felt crisp as she inhaled, just as it always had. Nothing felt any different. She could still feel all of her limbs. She had two hands, two legs, and two feet. She could feel Hanako as she clung to him, nails digging into the fabric of his old school uniform. “Hanako-kun,” she said when she finally trusted herself to speak. “What happened?”

Silence.

He didn’t answer -- not at first. No, he simply buried his face into her hair. Inhaling deeply, then he released a ragged breath that seemed to be ripped from his chest. When he pulled back, meeting her gaze, his eyes were set with a sort of weary, grim determination.

And she knew.

She knew without him even having to say it. Though, the words still knocked the wind out of her when they finally did come.

“You died, Yashiro.”

No -- dying hadn’t been dramatic. But... what had come after was.

---------

Days seemed to blend into one another over the next few weeks, each night dying into day again and again.

Rinse and repeat.

Nene was never quite sure if she was awake or not. She had read about narcolepsy for class once. She thought that what she was experiencing now was most similar to that. There were fleeting moments of consciousness. She would blink and awaken back at the school, before blinking again and finding herself back in a sea of darkness that was thicker than the blackest of nights.

When she was awake, Hanako was usually never far away.

He’d appear minutes after she did, a bone weary and hollow guilt etched into his eyes as he always encouraged the same thing over and over again.

“Pass on, Yashiro.”

She didn’t listen, of course.

-------

Nene came to realize rather quickly that coming to terms with your own death was quite the shock. The awareness of one’s own demise didn’t come right away. No, your body did everything in its power to maintain that illusion of life. She still felt things, phantom sensations of what should be. She couldn’t feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, but something within her brain (soul? She didn’t have a brain anymore -- that had died with her physical body) told her that the rays would brush against her skin like a sultry embrace, and so she perceived it as such. She didn’t have skin to feel the coolness of the wind sweeping over her, and yet, she shivered. Her chest burned when she held her breath, yearning for oxygen that she couldn’t breathe. Though, gradually --

Those sensations…

Started.

To.

Fade.

Her awareness was even more fleeting.

From the moment that she realized that she was dead, Nene had trouble maintaining her form. She would simply blink in and out of existence. Here one minute -- gone the next. She would often wake back up in the school -- by the entrance, in the practice garden, right in the middle of her old homeroom class. Masaki-sensei would be in the middle of a lesson. Aoi would be sitting in class, scribbling notes with a far off and misty look in her eye. She’d never see her, of course.

No one did.

Her desk had been outright removed from the class. An empty spot in the classroom was the only acknowledgement that she had once existed. Though, perhaps that wasn’t the only reminder. No one sat where her desk had once stood. When students walked past that spot, they would cast a sad, pitying glance towards it. She’d hear whispers when there was a lull in the lesson. They were always the same words. Whispers that were as loud as screams echoed throughout the entire school -- building to a crescendo that was impossible to ignore.

Poor Nene-chan.

It was always the same.

Did you hear how she died? She was found stabbed in the school courtyard! Isn’t that awful?

Poor Nene-chan, indeed.

“Insensitive, isn’t it?” A soft, yet almost dreary voice spoke to her. Nene blinked. She was in the school hallway now. How frustrating! She couldn’t seem to get a hold of herself. Her sense of self was off, just as Hanako had said. She was worried that she would disappear for good if she wasn’t careful. “The way that humans discuss the dead has always left something to be desired.” That voice sounded so familiar.

It gave Nene something to grasp. A familiar voice -- soft, distant, and feminine.

“Nanamine-senpai!” Nene found her voice, yelping out loud as she finally noticed the girl standing right in front of her. It was as though Nanamine-senpai had been out of focus, a blurry image in a camera that she had been unable to discern until that very moment. Her head just felt so foggy. Was she disappearing?

You are dead, a fact her mind was quick to remind herself of. You shouldn’t even still be here.

“You haven’t crossed over yet,” Nanamine-senpai observed. She leaned against the adjacent wall, hands folded neatly across her chest. She was as beautiful as always, resembling a painting more than a person -- a beautiful piece of art that had been handcrafted and placed into the real world. Perhaps that was why she seemed so doll-like, her movements perfectly precise, her voice like a distant dream. The sunlight filtering in through the windows from the hallway bathed her in a warm, honey-like hue. “Perhaps you should.”

“Hanako-kun….said the same thing…” Speaking was difficult. It was as though her tongue was laden with lead. It was difficult to remember how to form her words, like there were some kind of delay between her thoughts and her mouth. Then again, she didn’t have a real mouth anymore.

Dead.

She was dead.

Her insides shuddered, squirming at that thought. She could feel herself flicker again -- her consciousness fading to darkness before finding purchase in the school’s hallways once more. Sakura still stood there, watching her. “You should listen to him,” the elder girl advised. “Nothing good comes from remaining bound here.” Her tone became almost wistful. She turned slightly, glancing out of the nearby window, as a caged bird would stare longingly outside of the gaps in its cage.

“I wish that I had known that, before.”

Before? Before what? Nene wanted to ask what she meant by that, but the words never seemed to reach her lips.

The other girl didn’t elaborate on her meaning, either. Instead, she took her hand in hers, holding it in a similar manner to the way that she had back in the tea room Boundary. Imploring, asking for understanding. “Go, Yashiro-san.”

“Go where?” Nene rasped, her form trembling as her hand squeezed around Nanamine’s. “Where do I have to go?”

There was nowhere to go now. There was nothing to do. There was nothing to be. She was stuck, frozen in place from the moment that she had been stabbed. Nene had a whole list of things that she had wanted to do before she died. She’d wanted to get a boyfriend, get her first kiss, go on a date. Maybe one day she’d grow into a sexy older woman with men fawning all over her. One day she might’ve even gotten married!

Nene had wanted to stream Space Hamsters Strike Back on her laptop, curled up beside Hanako on the floor of his bathroom. She’d wanted to watch his eyes light up as he watched all of the modern special effects. Nene had heard that the effects made it feel like you were really in space while you were watching. She had downloaded the movie, and planned to bring her laptop with her the day after they had gone after the Amanojaku.

She wanted to see him get all excited about the stars, telling her all of the facts that he knew like the back of his hand. When he was like that, the mask of Hanako fell away until he was only Amane -- a boy who wanted to be an astronaut. The boy who wanted to go to the moon or to Scorpius. The boy whose life had been cut far too short.

Kind of like her.

A tight knot formed in her chest. Right where her heart would have been if she still had one. It felt as though her feet were cast in iron, given a weight that she hadn’t felt since she was alive.

“So, you’ve made your choice,” Nanamine-senpai murmured, watching her with hooded, secretive eyes.

Her choice? Nene clung to the sick feeling of sloshing acid that formed in the pit of her stomach. It was real. It anchored her in place -- kept her from disappearing, even as her consciousness began to slowly fade.

“Staying isn’t always the better option,” she informed her, dropping her hand. Her lips curled into a sad smile. “A wish cannot always be granted. Even if it is, it might just chain you in place. You can become imprisoned by that wish.”

Nene didn’t understand. How could a wish become a prison?

“Nanamine-senpai,” Nene asked quietly. “How do you know that?”

The older girl remained quiet, her eyes holding an answer that Nene didn’t want to acknowledge. Why do you think that I know, they questioned. Tsukasa-kun was a supernatural who only granted wishes to spirits, after all. How else had Nanamine-senpai been able to form a bond with him if she didn’t already intimately understand the danger of such wishes? Her wish had become the elder girl’s shackles.

Crimson eyes widened, understanding dawning within them. “Nanamine-senpai…. Are you…?”

“It doesn’t matter what I am, anymore,” Nanamine’s voice was clipped. She didn’t want to talk about that, then. “Every wish comes with a cost. Are you prepared to make such a sacrifice, Yashiro-san?”

Was she?

“You all keep saying that!” Her form flickered. Here and then not -- as though she had glitched out of reality. “You tell me it’s better to pass on! Then you say that it’s up to me to make a choice! Make up your minds already!” All of the frustration at the unfairness of the situation erupted.

Stupid supernaturals! They kept things from her, tried to force her to make decisions that she didn’t want to make, and all looked at her with that hopeless, resigned expression that she had come to loathe.

It was all too much.

She was still just too young. Before meeting Hanako her biggest concern had been her thick ankles and whether the boy she liked would return her feelings! Nene had been thrust into a world far more complex and layered than she had ever been able to fathom before. A world of wishes, apparitions and separate pockets of reality where all manner of creatures roamed, and all of her older concerns seemed paltry in comparison. Still, she had toed the line of the Near Shore and Far Shore for so long that she had come to love this dark world, filled to the brim with ancient legends and rules that were too difficult for her to comprehend.

It had always been her destiny to die.

Though, that didn’t mean that she needed to fade away, either.

Hanako. She thought of his sad, remorseful eyes. He had promised her a wish that he hadn’t been able to grant. He must be agonizing over that. He probably felt as though he had failed.

Did he always feel shackled by his wishes? Like Nanamine-senpai? Had her own wish added yet another chain to the restraints that bound him?

There were two paths laid before her, and while she knew what the easiest choice would be, she found herself yearning for the other more treacherous road that offered her nothing but overgrown thickets and branches that could easily snag her into place. It was a merciless path. Perhaps she’d even end up as bound as the rest of the apparitions who frequented this school.

Even so....

Hanako was at the end of this road, wasn’t he?

Nanamine-senpai smiled, a slight slither that seemed almost cut onto her face with knives. “Just remember this, Yashiro-san--” The girl leaned closer, resting her hand on her shoulder. She squeezed it, though Nene was unsure if the gesture was meant to be comforting or not.

“ You’re a spirit of the Far Shore now, Yashiro-san. That means if you stay long enough to manifest a wish…”

Nanamine-senpai didn’t even need to finish her sentence.

Nene knew.

“He’ll come to grant it.”

Strangely enough -- that didn’t frighten her. At least, not completely.

-------

And come, he did.

Nene wasn’t surprised to see Tsukasa when he finally sought her out. Her wish had already manifested, building itself in her heart until her entire spirit was consumed by it. It sang its song in every molecule of her form, making sure that even if she vanished, she was never gone for long. This time, she was on the roof of the old school building. She opened her eyes, and could see the sun shining down on her, even if she couldn’t feel its rays. The wind blew against her, causing her hair to blow across her face.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!” A loud, boisterous voice cried out. She recognized it immediately, flinching as her hands balled into fists. “Amane’s assistant died! You really died! I mean -- I knew that you would, but that’s a lot faster than I was expecting!” He laughed, floating in the air before flying above her, lowering himself so that his face was right in front of hers as he hung upside down. It was an action that reminded her almost too cruelly of Hanako. The boy had his face, after all, even if that was where the similarities ended.

He stared down at the wound that had yet to repair itself in her chest. “Hey! Someone stabbed you! Squish!” He reached for her, mimicking the stabbing motion with his hand. She grimaced, but she took a step away from him, eyes narrowed as she covered the wound with one of her hands. “Hey, when you got stabbed, did it make that sound? It kind of sounds like that, right?”

She didn’t want to think about that -- or the sound of it.

“Tsukasa-kun…” Nene said hesitantly, watching him with wary eyes.

“That must’ve broken Amane’s heart,” he giggled, eyes closed and grinning wide. He had a smile that was like a wild animal, all teeth -- a warning. “Did he make a good face?” She didn’t like it when he spoke like this, eyes darker than the obsidian. “I wish I could’ve seen that!”

She didn’t answer his question, her mind flashing back to Hanako’s face as she had died. No -- it hadn’t been a good face, at all. She bit into her lip -- hard. “You’re here for a reason, aren’t you, Tsukasa-kun?” She was sure that if she was still alive, she would’ve ran from him. She would’ve cowered away and called for Hanako, probably. All of those fears seemed so far away now, like a distant memory. Tsukasa would do as he pleased, whether it was favorable for her or not.

Her words seem to snap him back to attention. “Yes! Your heart called me. You have a wish, don’t you?” He had such large eyes -- round and wide until they thinned, pupils zeroing in on her. Malicious curiosity shone within them, as though he were looking right through her. It was as though he were peering into her soul. She forced herself not to cower from him even if there was still a part of her that wanted to run and cry. “I do,” she answered, voice trembling.

Well, dead or not -- she couldn’t change her crybaby ways completely.

“You know what it is already, don’t you?” Nene’s hands clenched around the hem of her skirt.

“I do,” he sang as koku-jodai danced around him. The orbs were just as excitable as he was. “You want to stay with Amane, right? You want to be with him from the bottom of your heart!”

His smile softened, startling her as he moved closer, invading her space. She wasn’t able to move away quickly enough as he grabbed both of her hands, entwining their fingers the same way that Hanako had done back when he had first granted her wish. “You want to make him happy.” She didn’t expect him to look like that. He almost seemed like his twin at that point -- kind and gentle, though those words were not what she would’ve ever chosen to describe Tsukasa.

Why was he behaving this way? She had almost expected to be run through or hurt in some way. Though, she remembered even he had stopped himself from hurting her at one point. You’re not supposed to hurt girls. Had Hanako told him that?

She nodded, “Y-Yes.” She wished she could get her treacherous voice under control.

“Are you scared?” he asked cheekily, grinning as he stuck his tongue out at her. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to grant your wish. And well… I like your wish.”

That made her pause. He… liked her wish?

“What--?”

“We both want Amane to be happy.” He flew above her, koku-jodai practically vibrating as they circled him, glowing darkly as his power gathered. His response only served to further confuse her. He wanted Hanako to be happy? If that was the case, then why did he torment his brother? He had called them arch-enemies before. Rivals -- and yet, it seemed as though Tsukasa-kun genuinely wanted to help her. Hanako's eyes were always so sad and regretful whenever he saw him. A question formed in her throat, scratching at her vocal chords. “Do you really?”

“Yeah!” He stretched his arms out wide, as though he were going to fall to the ground and make a snow angel. “He and I are playing a game, but that’s not really what I’m here to talk about, is it?” He tapped his lip with his index finger, smirking as sharp fangs bared themselves.

She would get no more answers out of him.

A game.

She wasn’t sure what kind of game he was playing, but Nene was certain that neither Hanako nor the other spirits who got drawn into the web that he cast wanted to be a part of it. You’re confusing, Tsukasa-kun, she thought sadly, lips drawing into a deep frown. She wondered if anyone truly understood the boy in front of her. The members of his little broadcasting group didn’t seem to, all drawn together by the wishes that they had made to him, with the exception of Natsuhiko-senpai. She wasn’t sure why he was there, to be honest. Had Hanako understood him at some point?

Would she ever really know?

“Your price has already manifested. I’ve granted you an audience, so be sure not to be boring and disappoint me!”

An audience?! With whom?

She didn’t get the chance to ask him what he meant before the floor opened up underneath her.

“T-Tsukasa-kun!” she cried out, flailing out, trying to grab onto something to no avail.

“Bye-Bye!” He waved at her, and then --

Lights out.

-------

The next time Nene awakened, she was surrounded by a pitch black void.

There was nothing in this abyss -- nothing but emptiness and vast space. There was nothing to feel here, nothing to think; nothing but everlasting and far stretching darkness as distant as the eye could see. She wondered if this was the true afterlife. Was this where she was supposed to be? Was she only clinging to her worldly desires, tethering herself to the Near Shore when all that actually awaited her was an endless abyss?

Her final resting place.

It was almost peaceful. If she let herself, she could drift off into an endless, calm slumber. There would be no more pain. No more suffering. No more agonizing about her life, cut far too short. She hadn’t even had her first kiss. How cruel was that? Sixteen years old and deader than a doornail. Sleeping was much too tempting.. She could feel the desire tugging at her chest. It’d be so easy to simply close her eyes and drift off into nothingness. It’d be so easy. So peaceful. Right. This was fate, wasn’t it?

Her eyes were so heavy.

Maybe she could take just a little nap?

She could think about it more later.

“It’s kind of nostalgic -- like having a friend again.”

Nene’s eyes snapped open almost as suddenly as they had started to drift closed, suddenly alert. No. She couldn’t leave -- not yet. Not when Hanako was still tethered to the third floor girl’s bathroom of the old school building. She couldn’t believe that she had almost forgotten about him! No, she couldn’t fade away. Not while Hanako’s eyes still held that haunted, tired look as though he had seen more lifetimes than she could count. He was dead -- and yet, he couldn’t rest.

If he couldn’t rest, then neither should she.

Hanako wanted a friend. Hanako was lonely -- bound to his duty, to a penance that seemed far too great to burden a fourteen year old boy with. He’s a murderer, she reminded herself. That was true. Hanako had killed, but as she thought back to the way that he had looked on the floor of that empty classroom, all covered in bruises and bloody marks, bandages covering older wounds that had no business marring his skin, she couldn’t find it within herself to blame him. He had never told her why he had killed his brother, nor had he ever told her what had happened to him all those years ago.

There just hadn’t been enough time.

“Pass on, Yashiro.”

No, she couldn’t rest yet.

Hanako’s words only served to piss her off. He was always talking like that, making it seem as though all the dead had to look forward to was annihilation. He was a slave to rules and order -- what should be. There was still so much to do! Hanako was still at Kanome, after all. If he was there, then she would have no choice but to stay as well. She was his assistant and his friend. What would he do without her? He had urged her to move on, but that was just him being his normal, self-sacrificing self. Of course he’d say that. He was determined to make himself miserable, but Nene would be damned if she let that continue.

She wouldn’t.

Hanako needed to be protected, too!

That thought filled her like air, grounding her -- providing her with an alertness that kept her steady even in the recesses of this abyss.

Poor little lost spirit. Why do you scoff at death?

Nene could hear a voice in that abyss. It was a whisper, something that slid gently against the edges of her consciousness. It beckoned, called to her sweetly as she imagined a lover would. It was insistent, and yet too soft for her to discern its words until it slowly became more clear and present. That was, at least until the voice slowly became clear and present. It filled the space with an energy that rocked her to her core. It demanded attention now, as though it had grown tired of being ignored. She wasn’t alone here, and yet whatever she shared this space with was just out of her grasp. Nene grasped at air that wasn’t there, reaching -- searching for that voice.

Hear me, Spirit. I am here with you.

“I’m not alone?” Nene asked as she finally found her voice. There was an echo when she spoke, one that seemed to vibrate throughout the dark abyss, filling each of the spaces as it reverberated again and again. “Who are you?”

There was a rumble in the darkness, something deep and warm -- like laughter.

That is the question, isn’t it? Funny, how those who come here never seem to know the answer to that question.

Was the voice talking in riddles? Nene had never been very good at solving those. She wasn’t sure who this person was -- but who did you talk to when you finally died? The answer hit her suddenly, and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it right away. “Are you God?”

The rumble was back, ouder this time, and it shook her as it reverberated through her like ripples of a raging river. Was it… amused by her?

Some have called me that. That seems to be the only thing humans can come up with, at least. I’m not God -- or anything of the sort.

She didn’t understand. If this voice wasn’t God, then what was it? She panicked for a moment, flailing out into the void wildly out in fear. If not God -- then was it a demon?! She didn’t voice that thought, but it seemed to recognize her fear, regardless. The laughter is deep and echoing.

I am from this land. You died on my land, and so you are tied here. Your soul refuses to pass on.

That much was true. She still had things that she needed to do, after all. If Hanako was still at Kamome, then she needed to be there, too. She was sure of it, even more sure than she had been when Hanako had tried to lock her away in the picture perfect world. She hadn’t belonged there. Even with the news of her impending death, she wanted to live with him in the real world. That wish hadn’t changed.

You are a funny human. I’m quite curious -- who are you?

Nene sputtered, “Me?”

Yes, you. You have yet to fade away. You have yet to accept death. You even solicited the help of that apparition to appear here. Why is that?

Why couldn’t she accept death?

She knew the answer to that question immediately.

“My name is Yashiro Nene.” Her voice was like steel as she spoke, steadier than it had ever been. “ I have someone that I can’t leave behind,” she answered firmly.

The void pulsed. She could hear a subtle sound, like the beating of a heart that only increased in volume until her ears rang from it.

You are a lucky one, little spirit. Your fate has been tied to that of another. It is a bond that transcends even death.

A bond that transcended death? She had heard that before, hadn’t she?

I’ve heard your wish, spirit -- Don’t come to regret it.

-- And then, a star burst into a kaleidoscope of colors before her eyes, illuminating the darkness.

------------

“Hey, have you heard this rumor? There’s a mermaid that lives in the outdoor pool --”

-------------

#hananene #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #yashiro nene #hanako #nene yashiro #yugi amane #amane yugi #my fanfiction #nene becomes a school wonder #i mean she has eight in her name #am i right

70 notes · View notes

horrorkingdom · 4 years ago

Text

Quiet

I never saw the ocean till I was nineteen, and if I ever see it again it will be too goddamn soon. I was a child, coming out of the train, fresh from Amarillo, into San Diego and all her glory. The sight of it, all that water and the blind crushing power of the surf, filled me with dread. I’d seen water before, lakes, plenty big, but that was nothing like this. I don’t think I can describe what it was like that first time, and further more, I’m not sure I care too.

You can imagine the state I was in when a few weeks later they gave me a rifle and put me on a boat. When I stopped vomiting up everything that I ate, I decided that I might not kill myself after all. Not being able to see the land, and that ceaseless chaotic, rocking of the waves; I remember thinking that the war had to be a step up from this. Kids can be so fucking stupid.

I had such a giddy sense of glee when I saw the island, and it’s solid banks. They transferred us to a smaller boat in the middle of the night, just our undersized company with our rucksacks and rifles and not a word. We just took a ride right into it, just because they asked us to. The lieutenants herded us into our platoons on the decks and briefed us: the island had been lost. That was exactly how he put it. Somehow in the grand plan for the Pacific, this one tiny speck of earth, only recently discovered and unmapped, had gotten lost in the shuffle; a singularly perfect clerical error was all it took. It was extremely unlikely, he stressed, that the Japanese had gotten a hold of it, being so far east and south of their current borders, but a recent fly over reported what looked like an airfield in the central plateau.

We hit the beach in the middle of the night. I’d heard talk of landings before, and I’m not ashamed to tell, I was scared shitless. I don’t know quite what I expected, but it wasn’t we got, that thick, heavy silence. Behind the lapping of the waves and the wind in the trees, there was… nothing, no birds, no insects. Just deathly stillness.

Another hundred yards deeper into the eerie tranquility of the jungle, we stopped in a small clearing for the officers to reconvene, and it was obvious even they were spooked. I wasn’t a bright kid, but I knew enough to know that something was very wrong. It was like the whole island was dead. I remember I could only smell the sea, despite the red blossoms dangling from the trees.

It wasn’t an airfield, on top of the plateau. I can’t tell you what it was, because I’ve never seen anything like it, and I don’t think anyone ever will. If I tell you it was like the Aztec pyramids, but turned upside down, so that it sank like giant steps into the earth, you’d get the basic idea of it, but that somehow fails to capture the profound unearthliness of the structure.

There was no sign of individual pieces in the masonry, it appeared to have been carved out of a single immense block of black rock into a sharp and geometric shape. It was slick and perfectly smooth like obsidian, but it had no shine to it. It swallowed up even the moonlight, so that it was impossible to see how deep it went, or even focus your eyes on any one part of it, like it was one giant blind spot.

Our platoon drew the honor of investigating the lower levels, so we descended the stairs as the rest of the company surrounded the plateau. We took the stairs slowly and carefully after the first man to touch one of the right angle edges slit his hands down the bone.

At odd intervals down the steps, there were several small stone rooms; simple, empty, hollow cubes of stone with one opening, facing the pit in the center. There was no door that we could see, and with the opening being four feet of the ground, you’d have to put your hands on that black razor sharp edge to climb in into it.

We circled the descending floors, shining our lights into each of the small structures; They contained the same featureless black walls and nothing else. No dust, no leaves and other detritus from the jungle, the whole monument was immaculate, as if the place was just built; but that couldn’t be right. The whole structure felt incalculably old to me somehow, despite having no way to articulate the particular reasons.

Down near the bottom you could see that it simply sloped away into a darkness that swallowed the flashlights. We tossed first a button and then a shell casing down into the pit, and waited in the unearthly silence, but no sounds returned. No one spoke, we simply turned away from the yawning abyss and continued our sweep of the bottom rung and the last of the small structures.

The body in the back corner was almost invisible at first in the thick shadows, but the long spill of drying blood reflected the light of our flashlights, and it led right too him. He was coiled tight, arms around his thighs, and his face tucked into his knees. You could see badly he was cut, his clothes opened in ragged bloody tatters to reveal the pale skin and bone beneath it. He may have been dressed in a Japanese uniform, but it had been reduced to ribbons; I only had few seconds to look at him before we heard the first shots.

It echoed like the buzzing of faraway insects in the still jungle, swallowed almost instantly by the blanket of quiet. By the time we reached the top, the rest of the company had vanished. There were shell casings on the ground, and the hot smell of gunpowder in the air, but they were gone. The trees were deathly quiet around, there was not a trace of the nearly fifty other men that had come ashore with us. I could taste bile rising in my throat as panic threatened to cripple me; I felt crushed between the yawning pit and razor edges on one side and the dead jungle and the pounding ocean on the other. The silence rang in my ears and I struggled to still myself.

They were just inside the jungle, waiting for us. They came out from between the trees with all sound of a moth, simply sliding into our view.

I can try to tell you what I saw, the same as I did to the army doc on the hospital ship when I first woke up, and again half dozen other various officers over the following months, and you’ll have the same reaction they did; that I was a dumb country rube suffering from heatstroke and exposure and trauma. That I was crazy.

You know me. You know I’m not crazy. And I remember every second of that night with crystal clarity.

The thing, the first one that caught my eye, was wearing the skin of a Jap soldier, all mottled with the belly distended from rot. The head drooped, useless and obscene on the shoulders, tongue swollen and eyes cloudy. I could see where it was coming apart at the ill-defined joints, with ragged holes in the drying flesh. At the bottom of each of these raw pits was blackness, deeper than the stones of the buildings; a darkness that seemed to churn and froth like an angry cloud.

The thing moved suddenly, the head snapping and rolling backwards as it dashed towards us. I had my rifle clasped tightly in my hands, but it simply didn’t occur to me to fire. All I could do was gape silently at the macabre sight bearing down on us, and think absurdly of my mother’s marionettes.

A gun went off beside me, and I turned to see a dozen more of the horrors darting silently in on us. Among them were a few more rotting and swollen forms, but the majority wore the same uniforms as us, and were pale, fresh, and soaked in blood. More bullets zipped through the air, and I saw the grisly things hit again and again, but they never slowed. I caught a glimpse of the First Sergeant’s vacant glassy eyes as his head dangled limp from his shoulders; I saw the great ragged wound in his back and the shuddering darkness that inhabited his corpse when he leapt just past me without a sound, landing like a graceful predator onto the soldier beside me. The others around me began to drop in a silent dance of kinetic energy and blurred motion

I was on the track team in high school, and it could have got me to college. I didn’t need an invitation. I just ran. I ran blind through jungle, caroming of tree trunks; I ran until I saw the ocean, and it struck a new ringing note of terror in me. I don’t remember actually deciding to swim, but when I turned back to the tree line, I saw one of the white and bloody things emerge, running on all fours, the hands splayed wide and the back contorted and cracked in an impossible angle.

To this day, the mere thought of the ocean still brings on a cold sweat, but that night I let it embrace me, let the tide drag me out to sea, if only to bring momentary relief from the impossible monolith and terrors on the island. The days I spent drifting off shore and blistering in the sun were a welcome release from the silent island.

I never saw the war. They sent me home as soon as I recovered.

It was comforting in a way, when I thought no one believed me. It allowed me to believe that it never happened, that it was a product of my mind. But as I got older, I’ve found that it is pointless to lie to anyone, especially yourself. I know what I saw.

Someone else believed me too. I’ve seen maps of where they tested the hydrogen bombs in the South Pacific.

—

Credited to Josef K. (aka entropyblues).

#explore #horror #follow #beginner witch #creepy #creepy photo #creepypasta #horror community #journal #new to tumblr #freaky #like me #horror kingdom #horror stories

2 notes · View notes

neohighwayv · 5 years ago

Text

Ships that pass in the night

Characters: NCT Dream Renjun x fem reader

Genre: ghost!au, strangers!au (but it’s not horror – I promise)

Word count: 1.6k

Description: Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This is often meant to refer to people who meet for a brief but intense moment, only to part, and never see one another again.

Author’s note: Inspired by a module that I took last semester on ghosts and spirits, I hope you enjoy the non-traditional take I took on the idea of ghosts! :)

Credits: @hoodedsuns for the inspiration on the title and description!

------

Renjun might have left this world a little too soon for his liking but even in his passing, he does his best to continue being the boy that lights up the world. Being dead doesn’t mean he has to stop spreading kindness and positivity in this world.

He lingers around the school campus that he attended before the terrible accident that took away his life one winter night, looking out for students that might need help. He mostly does small little things that won’t draw the attention of anyone, unless you’re purposely looking out for it. Renjun has left countless notes of encouragement on the belongings of struggling students, something that all of them write off as an act of kindness from a stranger when they weren’t looking. Well, they’re technically not wrong... but they’re only half right. Renjun was no ordinary stranger – he was a ghost.

Wandering along the hallways in the evening when most students have already left for home, a lone, lit classroom naturally draws his attention. Peering in through the small window by the door, Renjun notices you bent over the small table, scribbling away furiously on your notes as you bunch your hair up with your other hand. You let out a small sigh of annoyance as you erase your math equation for the 10th time, your patience slowly ebbing out of you as the frustration mounts. Your eyes are burning and the stabbing pain at the right side of your brain just won’t go away. Pressing a hand to your head, you decide that this is it for the night. You’ll deal with that one annoying question that you can’t get right when the sun rises tomorrow. The stabbing pain that has now intensified makes you bristle with anger, and you proceed to shove your stationary into your pencil case as you slam your math textbook shut, both you and Renjun jumping at the unexpectedly loud sound. You’re clearly stressed out, and even Renjun can see that. Renjun wonders what he can do to make you feel better and he catches sight of the acrylic charm of a cat that hangs from your bag, as well as your lock screen that shows a picture of the starry night sky. From this, Renjun gathers at least 2 things. One, you like cats and two, you like the night sky as well. Which is perfect for him honestly, because he’s able to make these 2 things happen.

Once you’ve decided on your route home, Renjun quickly passes through walls and classrooms as a shortcut to reach the school garden before you in search of the school’s resident black cat. He finds the adorable feline under her favourite bush, flicking her tail aimlessly with her eyes closed shut as she sleeps. Cooing at the cat, Renjun successfully catches the attention of the feline, whom now opens one eye lazily to regard Renjun. With the promise of food, she finally agrees to do Renjun’s bidding and walks right into your path to catch your attention. Renjun watches from the sideline as a huge smile stretches across your face, your phone quickly abandoned in favour of the cute feline now curled at your feet. From the side-lines, Renjun watches with a smile on his face as your smile now practically stretches from ear to ear as you play with the cat, especially loving it when she nudges her face into your palm, clearly wanting more affection and love from you. Renjun no longer had a beating heart nor could he feel physical warmth, but he was certain that if he could, his face would be heating up by now as his heartbeat speeds up. You mentally thank your lucky stars in your mind; you weren’t in the best mood, too troubled by not being able to get your math homework right so this furry therapy was exactly what you needed to make you feel better.

Standing just a few feet away from you (not that you can see him anyways), Renjun furrows his eyebrows as he taps his fingers against his chin: How does he get the perfect timing to have you look up at the night sky? Renjun looks left and right, pacing up and down before something rustling by the side of his eye catches his attention. Eyes darting over, he catches sight of the leaves rustling slightly as a light breeze sweeps through their gaps.

That’s it.

Moving to stand in front of you, Renjun conjures up a gust of wind from behind you, momentarily causing the leaves to rustle violently as your clothes billow around you. The sudden blast of cool air catches you completely off guard and you watch as your hairband unravels from the force of the sudden gale, and travels towards the night sky. You jump on the balls of your feet to catch it before it drops to the ground, and you nearly forget how to land properly.

“Wow.”

Eyes trained on the violet night skies that lay above, that was all you were capable of vocalising. You find yourself transfixed on the currently unravelling scene, various emotions thrumming through your veins as your bones buzz with excitement. It’s an emotion that comes from deep within the crevices of your body; one that is incomprehensible to the human mind, but entirely understood by the physical body. It’s the kind of emotion that sets every neuron on fire, searing this image into your mind for eternity.

A million stars dot the entire sky, each shining brightly like the crystals that hang from chandeliers in mansions against the backdrop of a violet and blue-black sky. Every inch of the sky is covered by the stars, and you swear that you’re looking at this very moment, is the entire galaxy that has always stay hidden to the human eye. Never in your life have you ever lay eyes upon such a sight – you’ve only seen them in books or documentaries, when they discuss what the skies will look like without all the light pollution from humans. You always felt a little sad when they repeated that point, wondering endlessly about the time you will get a chance to see this magnificent sight, a dream that seemed even further away because you live in the city. But here you are in this moment, laying your eyes upon this sight you’ve only ever dared to dream of seeing. You’re so overwhelmed by this feeling of happiness that you even forget about the absurdity of the situation – that was honestly the furthest thing on your mind right now. The stars all vie for your attention, but you take your time to slowly admire them instead. With not a single cloud in the sky, you get an unobstructed view of the galaxy above you, and you take your time to let your eyes wander around the night sky, trying to soak in every detail of it. Renjun stands close by as you continue to gaze in amazement at the majestic sight above you, watching your eyes shine as they reflect the universe above you. With each soft exhale that you release, you feel the tension being expelled from your body. You honestly never thought that one day you’ll be able to see this view but it is happening right before your very own eyes, and you count it as an immense blessing to be able to witness this sight at least once in your entire lifetime. Who knows when you’ll get to see this again – if ever?

“Whoever it is, be it down here or up there, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to experience this wonder, and for making me happy.”

Renjun hears you loud and clear, and he beams at your heartfelt words. He knows that you’re not aware that this was all his doing – so you’re not really thanking him specifically – but he still smiles at the sweet thought, simply because it’s heart-warming to know that someone still remembers to give thanks for the little things in life that they’re grateful for. Slowly, the effects of his magic wear off and the stars dim till they were before, clouds now hanging in the skies again. Only now are you willing to let your eyes drop to the earth beneath you, a small smile continuing to grace your face as your ears lift in joy, working hard to calm your heart it comes down from it’s previous high. When you turn in his direction and stare for a prolonged period of time, Renjun freezes in his spot, worried that you might actually be able to see him. He breathes a sigh of relief when you bend down to beckon the black cat beside him to you, realising that you only stared because his feline friend was right beside him. Renjun lingers for a few more moments, until you bid the cat goodbye with a scratch under her chin and he makes sure you’re on the bus safely before he turns to leave.

Like ships that pass in the night, what transpired between the two of you will never happen again. Just like how two ships will never pass one another again in the vast ocean, you and Renjun will never find one another again in this sea of people. You’ll remember this night forever; for an act of kindness from a stranger is always the most memorable – they genuinely give without expecting anything in return, wanting nothing more than to help make your day a little better. Like the ships that send encouragement through their shining lights over the cold, violent seas, these kind strangers choose to bring some hope into your life by sending you their best wishes through their actions, sincerely wishing you the best despite knowing nothing about your story.

Constants may always be better than a fleeting stranger, but these acts of kindness from a strangers are just as strong in the spirit of love and giving – strong enough to move sturdy mountains, make the winds howl and quell the violent seas.

Like the ships that pass in the night, you are never truly alone in the world.

51 notes · View notes

specialmindz · 5 years ago

Photo

“dad?”

CLATTER!

CRASH!

“UGH! DAMNIT!”

“Nyeh hee hee hee!”

“IT’S NOT FUNNY PAPYRUS!”

CA-THUMP!

The scientist continued to fumble about the lab, searching for the appropriate parts to fix the generator.

“Ki-et down Daddy, you wake up Boo Boo!”

“Oh no, don’t mind me…I’m just happy to be here…” The little spirit monster shifted a bit in Sans’ grasp, having been mistaken for a pillow in the dark.

“You aren’t SUPPOSED to be here! NO ONE is to visit the lab at this hour!” replied Gaster, still searching for a flashlight. He didn’t approve of his littlest scavenging at the Dump, but every once in a while, Papyrus would bring home something he could use and the flashlight was one of them.

Figures he couldn’t find it now of all times.

What on earth could have happened? The magic crystals still have power in them and the generator itself is in perfect repair! This blackout makes no sense!

He wasn’t used to something being broken without Papyrus having some sort of hand in it.

“Just in case however, did you touch the generator Papyrus?”

The baby bones nodded vigorously, “Yep! We’s out of ghost food, so I decided to make snacks for Boo Boo, but we was out of the veggie oil.”

“Veggie oil?”

A few moments went by before the elder skeleton jumped suddenly in alarm and rushed out of the workshop, running downstairs into the True Lab’s living quarters, apparently heading for their kitchen.

“hey uh bro? you didn’t use the oil from the generator-”

“YOU DUMB LITTLE SHIT!”

“Oh nooo…”

Hiding his face in Sans’ shirt, Napstablook shook in terror, unused to the family’s quarrels. Though the scientist’s anger was nostalgic and reminded him of one of his cousins, it had been awhile since he’d heard any yelling and he had heard from Papyrus that Gaster wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. The fact that this was probably the spirit’s fault, made things even worse as he had been hoping to make a good impression on the family.

So much for that.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault…”

“naw, forget about it. you’re a guest, right? guests are supposed to get snacks. pap just made a mistake is all.”

“Heh heh heh…”

“hm? what’s so funny?”

“I like your accent.”

Papyrus looked up, grinning. “Me too, Snas from Boston, so he say stuff like 'fuhgeddaboudit' and ‘I’s hittin’ da’ bricks’ and ‘here’s lookin’ at you kid!”

“i don’t spell it like that! and what does that last one even mean?”

SHHHEERRAA!

Before the infant could answer, the elevator door opened and Gaster came rushing out. He didn’t stop to say anything to the children, he merely grabbed a vial of…something…and ran back in, keeping the door open with his wingdings.

Not that this was a good idea mind you, as he soon realized all too late that he wasn’t alone, just as the elevator closed and began its second descent.

“I do hope you’s not planning on ruining mah new firepace stink Daddy,” said the baby, still wearing his smile from before.

“Huh? What the hell? How’d you get in here?!”

“I cuwalled.”

“Well when we get to the living quarters, you can CRAWL your miniature ass to your room! Do you know how difficult it is to put out an oil fire?”

“How this ellyvator work without da’ tricity? You learn Snas’ witchcraft?”

“Of course not. I’ve a second generator hidden downstairs…just in case you break the first one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t reach-”

“THERE A CWOSER BABY MASSAGER?!”

“Wh-what? ‘Baby Massager?’ Are you laying on the generator?”

“Yep! Is fun. I likes it better than the washy machine cause’ it always on. It feel nice on mah bones and it make me go UHUHUHUHUH…then I falls off.”

Gaster shook his head.

“What? What I do?”

“Though vibrations are good for bones and newborns alike, the generator is NOT the best tool to use because of the oil within it. THIS generator especially. This one, connected to the lab, is custom designed to keep running indefinitely…not something a normal generator should ever do. I haven’t a choice however, if I want to keep Mt. Ebott from erupting. The oil I use comes from a reservoir that’s FAR too close to the surface of Hotland. It needs to be depleted less there be an explosion, but no matter how much is used, there seems to be no end to it.”

“That sound like a solution to da’ power problem we gots dough. Why you not use it?” asked Papyrus curiously. He didn’t know much about oil, he assumed it was discovered and researched sometime after he was born. He hadn’t heard anyone else mention it before either…unless it had something to do with cooking. The stuff he had poured out of generator upstairs was a liquid, but liquids were supposed to put OUT fires, weren’t they? “The yellow made the oven a firepace. It cook mah food too good and now no one gets noms. It do other bad stuffs?”

“Yes it does…and that wasn’t vegetable oil Papyrus, it simply had the same color. That was generator oil and a result of refinement on my part. Unrefined oil, or Crude Oil, is a thick, black, eldritch sludge that kills all it touches. It’s made from the deceased bodies of creatures no one in recorded history has ever seen alive and has lied in wait within the earth’s crust for literally millions of years. That being said, it is unfortunately naturally occurring, and everyone aware of its existence is infatuated with it BECAUSE it’s such a huge power source. That’s why I’ve kept it a secret from the public and use it in my experiments as little as possible. It may grant us advanced technology almost immediately, but the things created with it also kill, albeit slowly, meaning you don’t have to come into contact with oil itself in order to become a victim. It’s not evil, but it will take some time before we can figure out a way to use it safely…and keep others from using it poorly.”

Gaster shuddered upon imagining the horror and chaos that would no doubt ensue if ever the monsters were to find out about his discovery. One small mistake is all it would take for Mt Ebott to erupt and annihilate everyone. Even the fire elementals would be destroyed, either drowned in lava or pushed into the barrier and rendered to dust.

“Papyrus, you must promise me that you will keep this a secret. I know it isn’t in your nature to do such a thing, but your life is at stake, along with everyone else’s. That includes Sans, you hear me? I don’t want him knowing about this reservoir less he be tempted to experiment with-PAPYRUS GET OFF THE GENERATOR! WHAT DID I JUST TELL YOU?!”

“UHUHUHUHUHUH!”

SHHHEERRAA!

“dad?”

CLACK!

The baby bones fell to the floor and crawled over to Sans.

“Hey Snas! SNAS!”

“hm?”

“DADDY FOUND OIL!”

“You son of a bitch.”

“cool. don’t play with it.”

“Why?”

“it’s like tar. it’ll make you smell bad and ruin your jammies.”

“Kay’.”

Papyrus used his wingdings to lay, once again, atop the generator.

“Sans, I must ask you to keep this oil reservoir a secret. Despite how desperate the power situation is, oil is not the answer for a civilization living within a volcano.”

“yeah i know about oil dad, i’m not dumb. i read more than space books ya’ know…”

“UHUHUHUHUHUHUH!”

“I’m well aware you know what oil is, I’m just SAYING-”

“NYEAH!”

CLACK!

Gaster knocked Papyrus off the generator.

“I’m just saying, the temptation is there and it targets both the money-poisoned AND the lazy. There may come a time during an experiment where you feel oil will solve a particular problem, I assure you, it will cause more than it solves. We aren’t the only intelligent beings in the Underground, if you use oil to create something, it’s quite possible an individual will discover the usage through reverse engineering and in turn, wonder where exactly the oil CAME from.”

“NYEHHHHAAAHH!! SUCK-ASS DADDY! SEE THAT BOO BOO? DAT’S THAT BABY ABUSE I’S TALKIN’ BOUT’!”

“I-I didn’t s-see anything…also, what’s ‘oil?”

“ehh, don’t worry about it,” said Sans, thinking quickly. “you don’t eat our food right?”

“Oh, cooking oil…I remember that. It’s made from seeds…”

“Yep! I’s gonna make you something delicious, but I’s out of the cooking oil and baby oil be for baby food, so-”

“Baby oil is for skin,” said Gaster, rubbing his temples.

“Nyeh?”

“Baby oil. It’s for skin. It’s called baby oil because it supposedly makes your skin feel soft like an infant’s.”

What exactly is Sans DOING while I’m busy working? He’s not telling him this stuff as a joke, is he...?

“Nuh-uh Daddy, daz baby lotion! You confused. BABY OIL be for cooking, like baby powder and-”

“Baby powder is also for skin. It is not a type of baking powder NOR is it a baking soda of any sort. You have no business in the kitchen Papyrus.”

“What Baby’s Breath then?”

“Not parsley.”

“Baby spice?”

“That’s a person.”

“Baby fat?”

“Well it’s lard, but-”

“why don’t you just stick with baby potatoes and baby carrots bro?”

“Why don’t you just stay out of the kitchen period? The oven is not a toy and I believe I’ve told you as such already.”

“NO!” cried the baby bones indignantly. “I’s a genius baby and I deserves the best of edgy-cations! LOOK! Look what dis baby has right here!” Papyrus pulled a page, seemingly torn from an old magazine, out of his onesie and presented it to his family. It showed a young human in overalls, a toddler by the looks of it, pretending to cook on a toy kitchen set, plastic spatula in hand.

“aww, duude!”

That human’s so cute! Is that really a baby one? I wanna pet it soo bad! It’d probably bite the shit out of me though…

“hey, napstablook! c’mere and look at this human!”

Shyly, Napstablook floated over to the group and peered over Sans’ shoulder.

“Heh…”

“cute right?”

“It’s got a spatula…it thinks it’s cooking…”

“They not cooking, they’s modeling. They saying ‘look what I has and you doesn’t! Don’t you wish you had a nice baby-kitchen like me?’ They’s mocking!”

“nobody’s mocking you pappy.”

“THEY’S LAUGHING AT ME!”

“i guarantee this baby doesn’t know you exist.”

“Your brother’s right. What’s happening here is you’ve created a personal fantasy out of boredom and forgotten it was a fantasy. Something you need to learn not to do while you’re daydreaming-”

“All I needs to do is show dis baby that I’S the superior bae! Imma be the best cook ever and I’ll use the big people oven to do it! I don’t need their stink rainbow kitchen!”

“…Or perhaps you merely want an excuse to use the oven even though I JUST said no.”

I asked him to stay out of the Parent magazines to begin with…

Papyrus had an annoying habit of using those particular publications to come up with ideas for “brother-time” with Sans. A time where he would (sometimes quite literally) pick Sans up out of bed and have him do an arts and crafts activity with him, usually involving copious amounts of glue and chemicals Gaster wasn’t sure how he even got ahold of.

Not that the messes were the most obnoxious thing about it, THOSE he could handle. He was used to his smallest making messes.

No, no It was the MIMICRY that the scientist couldn’t stand. Those magazines were to inform parents of why their babies behaved the way they did, but Papyrus would use them as guidelines on “how to be a better baby.”

“Give me the markers Papyrus!”

“NO! These are MY paint-sticks! I keeps the markers cause’ I saw them first.”

“That’s not how that works, where did you even get that ide-no. Do not. Do not pull out that magazine again, god-DAMNIT Papyrus!”

“It say right here, ‘baes between two and four beweave that da’ person who gets an object first is the rightful owner, even if someone else gets hold of it later’ This be what babies do and I’s a baby, so these markers are mine now.”

“Give me that FUCKING magazine.”

“Is my ucking maggy-zeen.”

“Papyrus…”

“I sawed it first. Is the law.”

Gaster reached for the hated literature, causing the infant to quickly shove it back into his onesie. He then clacked his teeth together twice, a signal that meant any further attempts to get closer would result in a bite.

Because that’s what babies did.

They bit people.

“SANS, WHERE ARE YOU?! COME GET YOUR BROTHER!

“You’re not using the oven Papyrus.”

“*Sigh* Fine, I gots a solution for dis.” Crawling out of the kitchen, Papyrus headed into the Nursery and towards his toybox. He didn’t have to rummage long, as he was a very organized baby, and soon he found what he was looking for; an only slightly grimy multicolored maraca. He didn’t know why such a gem had been thrown away, but it made the most wonderful sound…

“What is that?” asked Gaster upon seeing his two-year-old reenter the room. The baby held the maraca by the handle with both hands and shook it.

CHACA-CHACA!

“…”

“Is a big-person rattle! I finded it at the Dump and is the bestest treasure ever! I’s gonna save it for when I does something really bad, but I needs that oven, so we trade. I gets to use the oven and you can pay wit mah rattle!”

“I don’t-”

“Pay not keep.”

“…I don’t need a rattle Papyrus.”

CHACA-CHACA!

“Heh heh, your brother swings it like a sledgehammer…”

“well yeah, he’s small.”

CHACA-CHACA!

“Stop that.”

“Be mesmerized.”

“I’m not interested Papyrus.”

“HOW YOU NOT INTERESTED IN DIS BIG PERSON RATTLE?” yelled Papyrus, completely baffled. “YOUR BRAIN BROKE!”

“not everyone likes rattles pappy.”

“Your brain broke…or maybe you’s planning to steal mah treasure while I’s napping so you doesn’t have to give up da’ oven!”

“No.”

“I bet you are! You’s gonna wait till I’s asweep in my widdle cwib and then you gonna take my toy and blame it on Snas!”

“No.”

“I bets you’s lying about the oil too! Baby oil be a cooking ingredient for babies, but you don’t likes it when I’s better at things than you, so you try to get baby to use fake cwap like ‘sugar’ and ‘spice.” The infant glared at the wall, remembering the disappointment he felt when he tried to get free sugar from Undyne. He had heard girls were made from sugar and spice, but what he managed to collect (along with a few new cracks in his skull) were scales.

Not delicious.

“You know full well I’m not lying…or you would if you were paying attention-”

“YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT AT DA’ DUMP AND YOU DOESN’T LET ME EAT WITH THE OVEN! HOW I SUPPOSED TO GET NUTRIENTS?”

“Just drink your formula, it has everything you need.”

“NO! I needs solids…like these fintstone yummies.” Papyrus pulled out a bottle labeled Flintstone Vitamins. “They looks like rocks, but they shaped like peoples!”

“hmm…” curiously, Sans popped one into his mouth and began to chew. “this one tastes like an orange.”

“Nyeh hee hee hee! Silly Snas, orange be a color, not a food!”

Silly Sans.

“Hmph, It’s a condensed version of Vitamin C most likely. Vitamin C is essential to the formation of collagen, so it should increase one’s bone density, but I doubt you’ll get much out of them.”

“it says vitamin d on it.”

“What? Vitamin D? Give me that bottle!”

“NYEH!”

Gaster snatched up the bottle in one quick motion and studied the label. If Sans hadn’t misread anything, then this was an extraordinary find indeed. Very few foods in nature contained Vitamin D and nature was what everyone depended on in the Underground. The people’s only source of it was found in fish and within the eggs of birds who had accidently flown into Mt. Ebott. Because they were so rare and important as a food source, the security around the areas in which they were bred was even tighter than at the castle. It was rationed carefully and NO ONE got special privileges that allowed more than their fair share due to overpopulation. That meant Gaster couldn’t add as much Vitamin D into Papyrus’s baby formula as he would like.

Eventually something’s going to go wrong and we’ll end up eating nothing but magic supplements.

Magic food wasn’t particularly healthy, not for Horror Fonts anyway. If there was any problem that breed of skeleton had, it was finding the right balance of magic AND basic nutrients. The magic kept their ectoplasm as strong as human muscle so their bones would stay together, but they needed the same vitamins as humans in order to keep those bones from cracking and splintering in the first place. Normal Fonts like he and Sans weren’t fighters, so it wasn’t as important for their bones to be sturdy, but Papyrus was a hunter, which meant tough fights awaited the baby bones when he got older.

He needs more than magic, and we’ve a limited supply as is. Perhaps though, with these, I can find a supplement for the vitamin itself and a way to reproduce it effectively.

“I trade the rock-peoples for da’ oven.”

“N-”

“And some more baby oil. I’s out of greedy-ants.”

“No. No more using the oven and no more ‘baby ingredients.’ You’re going to destroy this lab along with our kitchen!”

“I dis-gree.”

“bro-”

“You know what I needs? What every baby needs? Ah-structions. I needs a cookie-book. Fetch me a cookie-book, THEN I will succeeds in life.”

Gaster was about to say something, but quickly decided against it. An idea began to form in his mind as he reread the ingredients on the vitamin bottle.

Perhaps this request is a blessing in disguise...

“Papyrus, if I found you a cookbook would you follow the instructions to the letter?” “Course I would!” said the baby bones confidently. “What’s da’ point of ah-structions if I doesn’t follow them? I follow the ah-structions and make good food that Snas will eat.” Papyrus smiled at Napstablook. “You too Boo Boo! I make yummies for eryone!”

The scientist put the bottle in his coat. “Alright then, I will provide for you, a cookbook.”

“YAAAASS!”

“uhh dad, that sounds like a terrible idea,” said Sans, eyeing the ruined oven. “papyrus tends to-”

“Shu up Snas. I happily agwee to yo’ terms, beloved father figure!”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Baby will reward your rare act of rationality.”

“Please don’t.”

“I assist! I learned in one of the maggyzines that if you rewards good be-have-ior, peoples will repeat it. This time I find you REAL booger sugar, not baby powder.”

“papyrus-”

“Actually, that would be great. My experiment with the ‘cocaine’ you originally gave me was a complete disaster. Had it worked, I could have created something to reduce hunger in the Underground’s citizens months ago, but you ruined that for everyone. This time I’d like to succeed.”

“ohhh, so that’s what it was for.”

“Of course child, why else would I purchase it? Drugs are for science and science alone!”

“Um…” Napstablook looked behind him nervously.

Should I tell someone about this?

“Remember Papyrus, if you can’t follow a recipe, then you can’t cook that recipe, otherwise it will come out wrong.”

“Kay’.”

Gaster handed a cookbook to his youngest who took it with both hands excitedly and began to flip through it.

“Waz ‘pepper?”

“It’s a type of spice. We don’t have it.”

“What’s ‘vinny-ger?”

“It doesn’t matter, we don’t have that either.”

“i think that’s in urine pa-”

“Really Sans?”

“Ewww, I not using that! Waz ‘rice?”

“It’s a type of grain, we don’t have it in the Underground.”

The baby bones glared at the scientist who was now busy flipping through the pages of his clipboard; the situation beginning to dawn on him.

“We gots onion?”

“No, unfortunately.”

“We gots yeast?”

“*pfft!* i think that’s an infection pappy, are you sure you’re reading that right?”

“I want to see your books Sans.”

“We gots gween beans?”

“Nope, it’s too cold up where they’d need to fall into Mt. Ebott. They need a temperature of at least 50 degrees Fahrenheit to grow.”

“Does we has ANYTHING?”

“If you can’t find a recipe with ingredients we have, perhaps you should search for another cookbook?”

“NYEH!”

Papyrus threw the book.

“…Scu you stink Daddy.”

SHEERRAHH!

Reentering the elevator, Gaster headed up to the main floor. Hopefully he had some refined oil in reserve at the workshop…

“…”

“mm…this may not be a good time bro, but about that cocaine thing. earlier, you called it ‘booger sugar.”

“…”

“you don’t…actually think it’s sugar do you? you didn’t put any in our food?”

“…”

“…pap?”

“Oh noooo…”

Sorry for the wait, I’m renovating my house to move if you recall.

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #Undertale #Undertale au #Undertale fanfiction #Papyrus #Sans #napstablook #Gaster #Baby Papyrus #kid Sans #baby bones

45 notes · View notes