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totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 15 days ago

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Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 19/?

Can I offer everyone some distraction and escape tonight? If you have sent a prompt to my inbox, I will get on those tonight and tomorrow. Just wanted to get a longer offering up as well. It's going to get worse before it ever gets better. Do what you have to do to stay safe, and try to do good where you can. I pray for better days ahead.

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

From the moment Tommy’s coven master stepped into the house, Evan could tell he was powerful.

Not as powerful as Tommy. Not as old as Tommy, either…but definitely not a new vampire. Something about the way he carried himself gave Evan the impression that he was used to being listened to. Obeyed. His dark eyes zeroed in on Evan as he made his way to Tommy’s living room, and even with no fangs visible, Evan absolutely received the message that this man would neither hesitate to kill him, nor feel an ounce of guilt over it. It should have been terrifying. And make no mistake, Evan was wary.

But he wasn’t afraid.

His magic hummed in the back of his mind, strong and ready to use to defend himself. Even if he had not recovered from the effects of using the teleport spell, though…Tommy wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

The knowledge settled in his mind, startling in its surety. Its absoluteness. Tommy wouldn’t let any harm come to him. Evan knew that.

He did not know how he knew that, or why it felt like such an immutable, inarguable fact. It was an insane thought to have. Sure, Tommy had put himself between Evan and danger several times already, but what possible reason could Evan have for thinking that he’d continue to do so? Against his own coven master, no less? He didn’t have one…and yet he was so completely confident in the belief that he met the vampire’s eyes squarely, his magic swirling contentedly through his body.

He listened as Tommy argued back and forth with his coven master, tensing as Alonzo revealed that the vampires were already spreading rumors about what had happened in Greenway’s office. He’d known in the back of his mind that the men who’d attacked them weren’t likely to just ride off into the sunset, never to be heard from again…but the high coven had seemed the larger threat.

He couldn’t even really blame this Alonzo person for asking Tommy to get rid of him, to turn him over to the high coven and just cut his losses. Hadn’t Evan been begging Tommy to do just that before Alonzo appeared? It was the smart play—the only play that could possibly keep Tommy and his coven out of this.

God, he wanted to give Tommy a way out of this.

“I’ve been on my own before. I can manage. Just do what I said before…let me leave and have your coven master lodge a complaint with the high coven. Tell them I spelled you. I don’t—I don’t know what to do about the vampires, but at least that’ll get my people off of your coven.”

“Well. I wasn’t expecting you to be the voice of reason. Listen to him, Thomas. We don’t have a lot of time to go with that story—not even a powerful witch could control you for very long.”

Evan ignored Alonzo, staring at Tommy as he seemed to consider their words. He wasn’t sure how this whole mess was going to end. He hoped Grant and her coven could find what they needed to in time to avoid a coven war…but Evan knew better than most the kinds of things that powerful covens could get away with when they wanted to. He wasn’t terribly confident. He just knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t do everything in his power to give them the chance.

He thought Tommy felt the same way. Like everything else about the vampire, it seemed a ridiculous thought to have. Three days ago, would have laughed out loud at the idea that a vampire could care about innocent people dying in a coven war. But he’d seen firsthand how much Tommy cared about his coven. Despite the horrible way they’d come into each other’s lives, Tommy had been nothing but honest with him. Honorable. Kind.

Protective.

He wasn’t an idiot. And he wasn’t naïve. Tommy had killed people. More people than Evan could probably conceive of, given how old he was. But Evan didn’t think the vampire was faking the disgust he seemed to feel for the wanton violence and cruelty of the party he’d rescued Evan from. He didn’t think Tommy was faking his desire to get to the bottom of whatever was going on in the city. Something inside Evan told him that Tommy wanted to stop what was coming just as much as Evan did.

The difference was, if Evan died in this storm they’d somehow entered into, the collateral damage would be minimal.

Sally had cut ties with him.

His parents had never cared for him to begin with.

Maddie probably thought he was already dead…or had abandoned her.

There was no one left to care if he died, but Tommy had a whole coven who would mourn him. Hell, Evan had interacted with them for less than two hours, but he could tell how close Tommy was with the two vampires who had come to the loft. There was no reason for Tommy to go down this road with him when there were so many people who would be hurt if Tommy got himself killed. He knew Tommy wouldn’t stand for just turning Evan over to the high coven, but letting him go and then taking a story about Evan casting a compulsion over Tommy to them was the absolute best move that Tommy could make. For his coven. For himself.

“I can’t do that.” The vampire’s voice was clear. Steady. Not a hint of doubt or hesitation in the words. Tommy’s eyes bored relentlessly into his, his back ramrod straight as he refused, refused the out Evan was offering him. “Evan, whoever is orchestrating all this, I’m not leaving you to face them down by yourself.”

And…what? Evan startled, barely managing to keep his mouth from falling open in shock. Wait—wait, no, he couldn’t have heard that correctly. That made no sense. That was—

“Thomas, are you insane? You can’t be serious!” Tommy’s coven master sounded as shocked as Evan felt, the cool, calm demeanor he’d been affecting since he entered the bungalow cracking.

He started to pace back and forth, his movements quick and agitated, and Evan tucked one hand behind his back, clenching his fist and focusing on his magic the way Sally had taught him, drawing it tightly inwards, ready to spring forth at his command. No witch was powerful enough to cast without the structure of a spell…but thanks to Sally’s lessons, Evan could cast faster than most.

Tommy stepped deliberately between them, facing his coven master, and Evan felt a flush of warmth he couldn’t even try to deny. Alonzo’s next words, though, were like a bucket of ice water being poured straight down Evan’s spine.

“If you do this, then I’ll have no choice but to disavow you. Sever our alliance.”

He gasped. He knew he gasped, the soft, breathy sound of it punching out of him entirely without his permission. No. No, Alonzo couldn’t be suggesting what it sounded like he was suggesting. And even if he was, there was no way that Tommy would—

“Exactly,” Tommy said. His voice was still so steady, so sure. As though he was talking about something as minor as changing the paint color in his living room or what he might make for dinner and not…not…

Tommy and his coven master continued speaking, but Evan couldn’t make out the words over the buzzing in his ears. He felt frozen, stopped, his mind swarming with memories and feelings that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to examine in years. The blood pounded in his head, his focus on his magic splintering. No. No, Tommy couldn’t—he wouldn’t…

“Thomas. You’ll be convenless.”

“I’ve been covenless before.”

Covenless. There were a thousand other meanings for that word, and Evan had lived every one for the last five years.

To be covenless was to be nothing. Less than nothing. When Evan had been banished from his coven, he’d lost everything. His home, his family, his familiar. His future. His identity. Everything that made him who he was had been stripped from him, and he’d been left to rebuild himself from fucking scratch…only he’d never be able to. Not really.

To be covenless was to be alone. Completely alone. Unwelcome in every corner of the world you’d thought would be yours forever, unwanted and uncared for. Evan had lost his coven bonds and he’d become a ghost. He’d lost everything when he lost his coven. How could Tommy just give it up?

Why…why would he do something like that for him?

Evan watched in frozen, horrified silence as Tommy did it. Severed himself from his coven. Turned his back on his home, his family, the people he cared for…for Evan. He listened to the oddly formal words—completely devoid of the power that he’d felt when the Pennsylvania high coven handed down his sentence, and yet somehow just as heavy. Just as important. Some part of him tried to remind himself that Tommy had said vampire covens didn’t function the way witch covens did. Vampire covens were alliances, not bonds that were formed in blood and magic…but it didn’t matter. Tommy was giving up his coven. For him.

To protect him. He’d said it. He’d said he wasn’t going to leave Evan to face this storm alone.

It was impossible. It was irrational. It made absolutely no sense. He was watching it with his own eyes, and he didn’t understand. He’d given himself up for Maddie. He’d sacrificed everything he ever was or ever would be to keep her safe, to make sure that she didn’t suffer for what she had to do to set herself free from Doug. He hadn’t set out to lose his coven because of it, he’d just known it was a likely outcome. Had Tommy known he was going to do this when his coven master walked through the door? Had he looked at the situation the way Evan had all those years ago, his sister’s heartwrenching sobs ringing in his ears as they stood over Doug’s still body, and made the same choice Evan had in that moment? How? How?

It had been an easy sacrifice for him to make for Maddie. Losing his coven had been the hardest thing he’d ever experienced or ever would experience, but it had been worth it to save his sister. Keep her safe. Protect her.

But…but he loved Maddie. Loved her more than anything else in the world, loved her more than he loved himself.

What motivation did Tommy have to give up his coven for Evan?

Tommy was still for a long moment after his coven master–fuck, his ex coven master, what had he done?—left the bungalow. Evan listened to the sound of the vampire's car start up, still feeling like he'd been encased in a block of ice. Tommy's shoulders slumped slightly as the sound of the car faded down the driveway, growing more and more distant, and he cracked his neck a couple times before turning to look at Evan.

Evan didn't know what his face looked like, but Tommy's immediately softened. It was almost unbearable to watch…Tommy had just made himself covenless, how could he have room to feel sympathy for Evan?

“Evan, remember. Coven bonds aren’t like what you’re used to for us. This isn’t…it doesn’t hurt me,” he said, and his voice was so, so gentle.

As if Evan was the one who needed to be handled carefully, as though Evan was the one hurting. Because he was hurting. Evan knew that without a doubt, knew it the same way he’d known that Tommy wouldn’t let his coven master hurt him—it was a quiet certainty, a solid as stone beneath his feet. He felt suddenly sick, too hot and too cold at the same time. His heart pounded in his chest, his magic thrumming through him insistently, and he shook his head.

“Why…” He broke off, suddenly unable to meet Tommy’s eyes, and swallowed hard. “Why did you do that?” he managed to choke out, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

Tommy tilted his head slightly, a stepped toward him, closing the distance between them until he was right in front of him. “I’m not letting you do this alone,” he said, as though that were an actual reason to leave his coven, to voluntarily give it up.

Evan shook his head again, his head still spinning. “That doesn’t make sense!” he burst out. “Tommy, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”

Infuriatingly, Tommy’s lips twitched into a smile, and he reached up to lay his hand on Evan’s shoulder. There was no heat from the touch, of course, and yet Evan swore he could feel the shape of Tommy’s hand on him like a brand. His magic sparked through him, swirling in his chest like champagne bubbles. “I’ve heard that before, Evan. Hasn’t happened, yet,” he said.

“It’s not worth it,” Evan said.

Losing your coven isn’t worth it, Evan meant.

I’m not worth it, Evan meant.

Tommy’s hand loosened briefly, his fingers twitching like he wanted to move them. For a few heartbeats, Evan had the bizarre sense that Tommy was restraining himself from reaching up, brushing the skin of Evan’s throat, skating his fingers higher and higher to touch Evan’s face. Even more bizarre was the pulse of disappointment when Tommy merely patted his shoulder and stepped back, a strange expression twisting his features.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the vampire said. “Now…are you ready to start this snipe hunt?”

“How worried do we have to be about one of those locator spells?” Tommy asked as he guided the SUV onto the highway, heading for the address that his friend Chimney had provided.

Evan blinked, startled out of thoughts that would not stop racing in circles no matter how hard he tried. He was glad for the new topic to focus on, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the window. “Depends. If your, uh, if Alonzo lets the high coven have some of your stuff when he talks to them, it could be a problem. If it’s something you’re really attached to.” He opened his eyes and shot Tommy a sidelong glance. “Do you have a lot of things at your coven house?” he asked quietly.

Tommy chuckled, not taking his eyes off the road. It was hard to get a read on his expression, but he didn’t seem especially upset. “Some. Not as much as you might think someone could collect over eight hundred years. I’ve never really cared about things. Most of what I really give a shit about, I keep at the bungalow. But I can text Sal and Lucy and tell them to hide a few other things at the coven house.”

Evan nodded to himself. “We should have a day or two before it even becomes an issue—and they might not think it’s worth it. It’d be hard to hold a locator spell on a vampire. Most of our really complicated magic doesn’t work so great on you.”

Tommy made a curious hum. “Why’s that?”

Evan shrugged. “No one really knows. Probably for the same reason that you can’t turn witches.” He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers. “I can cast a charm that’ll let me know if someone’s trying to spell you,” he offered after a moment. “And disrupt it.”

“Will it be a drain on you? I’d rather you save your strength for when we run into trouble.”

“A disruption? Yeah, that’d be hard for me to keep up for very long…but the alert charm is simple. Sa—someone taught it to me when I was a kid, to help me channel my intentions in a spell. Those kinds of things, losing my coven bond doesn’t really, uh, doesn’t really affect me that much,” he finished quietly. “But it’s still a spell. I, I, I get it if you don’t want me casting anything on you.”

Tommy was silent for a long moment, before he said quietly, “I trust you, Evan. Do I need to pull over?”

“Wait, not? You want me to cast it now?” Evan blinked, the calm certainty in Tommy’s voice when he said he trusted him catching him off-guard. Tommy shrugged one shoulder.

“Might as well. I don’t want to risk getting distracted later—and any advantage we can get is worth taking.”

“Um, okay. Okay, yeah, that makes sense. Uh, no, it—you won’t feel anything. Maybe like, a tingle? But it won’t hurt or anything. I can do it while you’re driving.” He pressed his lips together, considering. “Can I have your hand?”

Tommy startled a little at that, shooting him a quick, bemused look. “Sure?” he said, stretching one hand out toward Evan.

Evan took it, cradling it in his palms and resting two fingers on where Tommy’s pulsepoint should be in his wrist. It was odd not to feel the beat of life underneath his fingers, to trace skin that was oddly cool, blue veins standing out more starkly than he was used to. He leaned over Tommy’s hand and started chanting, his magic all but leaping to his fingertips as he murmured the familiar spell. Tommy kept his eyes on the road, but Evan could sense him shooting quick little looks his way, even as he held his hand trustingly still.

It was strangely intimate. The thought skipped through Evan’s head and was gone as he felt the spell building, his hands beginning to glow with the white light of a witch’s power. He breathed out the last words of the spell and pressed the magic gently into the skin of Tommy’s wrist, a sigil glowing briefly before fading to near invisibility. Tommy shivered as the sigil sunk in, his fingers flexing, but he held still until the light of Evan’s magic faded. Moving slowly—almost reluctantly?—he slipped his hand from Evan’s grasp and looked at the inside of his wrist, his eyebrow twitching upwards minutely.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Evan confirmed, settling back in his seat and going back to staring out the window. “If anyone tries to cast on you, I’ll know.”

“Thank you, Evan,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded silently, watching the LA scenery fly past the window as Tommy sped towards Greenway’s house. He felt like his brain was spinning as fast as the tires, too much happening for him to really get a grasp on it. He needed to. He couldn’t afford to be spiraling with them potentially heading into a hostile situation. Everything—his confusion and disbelief and, yes, all right, his guilt over Tommy giving up his coven, his worry about what they were walking into, his fear for what could happen in this city if they failed, he had to let it all go. He could almost hear Sally’s voice in his head, chidingly reminding him that he needed to stay focused.

Find an anchor, little love. A single thing to concentrate on and hold onto that, no matter what.

Good advice…but advice he’d struggled to take all his life. He looked over at Tommy again, taking in his profile as he tried to read his stoic expression, tried to figure out what might be running through the vampire’s head. Tommy said he trusted him. After knowing him only a couple of days, Tommy was willing to take risks for him that he wouldn’t have asked of anyone in his coven except maybe Maddie. Had made sacrifices for him that Evan knew down to the marrow of his bones his own parents would never have made. Tommy said he trusted him.

Evan breathed out slowly, his magic ebbing through him in time to his heartbeat. In the face of everything, he let the simple truth that had been trying to form in his mind since Tommy had given up his place in his coven to protect Evan wash over him. He trusted Tommy, too. And that was what he was going to hold onto, no matter what.

Jonah Greenway had lived on a surprisingly quiet street in a small, nondescript house that was neither especially nice nor especially run-down. Tommy took a couple of laps around the block in the SUV, trying to scout if there was anybody already there. Evan had been slightly worried that the place would already have been under a police investigation, but credit where credit was due—the SoCal high coven was very good at keeping their world secret.

“Looks clear,” Tommy muttered after the third lap around the block. They’d stopped a few intersections and pulled into and reversed out of a couple of driveways to hopefully make it look as though they were just lost to any nosy neighbors who might notice a large SUV with heavily tinted windows. He pulled to a stop about a block down the street from Greenway’s house.

“Wait—how are we getting you in there?” Evan asked, tipping his head towards the window…and the sun-drenched street outside it. It would have been easier to wait ‘til at least dusk to leave the bungalow, but the need to give Grant and her coven enough time to do their own investigations created a sense of urgency that would not be ignored.

“I can take sunlight for a few minutes,” Tommy said, frowning distastefully and twisting in his seat to dis around in the floor behind him. He sat up a moment later with a large black hoodie and pulled a pair of gloves out of one of the pockets. “Although no offense, I’m gonna walk a hell of a lot faster than you.”

“Dressed like the villain in an after-school special?” Evan asked dubiously, his eyebrow climbing when Tommy pulled his sun visor down and grabbed a large pair of sunglasses clipped to the edge. “Really?”

“If you have a better suggestion, I’d love to avoid the third-degree sunburn I’m about to get.”

Evan debated a moment, drumming his fingers on his thigh and poking at the edges of his magic, feeling out the strength. Then he turned in his own seat, staring hard out the back windshield at the corner of Greenway’s house that was visible. There was a decently-sized porch with a roof, and Evan knew any witch worth his salt would have had look-away charms on his house, though they might have lost power when Greenway died. Still, if that was the case, then any hexes or traps he’d laid on the property would also be defunct, and Tommy would be able to break into the place quickly. Evan felt confident he could handle any hexes that were still active, and short out an alarm system fast enough that it would register as a glitch.

“Try not to move, okay?” he said, reaching over to grab Tommy’s wrist as he focused on the corner of the porch he could see, and chanted the spell.

His ears popped, the whole world going quiet and shadowy, sound muffling almost to the point that he was enveloped in silence. The air around him turned absolutely freezing, colder than any Pennsylvania winter, and as the spell ended he couldn’t help coughing. Beside him, he heard Tommy gasp something in a language he didn’t recognize—though by the tone, he could tell it wasn’t polite—and the vampire scrambled to his feet, his wrist twisting under Evan’s to grab at his hand and yank him to his feet as well.

They were standing on Greenway’s porch, well-shaded from the afternoon sunlight.

“What the hell?! What did you do?” Tommy demanded, looking around him in shock. “That wasn’t the same thing you did at the office!”

Evan laughed shortly, pulling away so he could examine the door in front of them. The fact that no defense spells had triggered when they appeared on the porch was encouraging, but he wasn’t going to just take it on faith that Greenway didn’t have something more powerful than simple charms and hexes waiting. “No—a teleport is major magic even when you have a coven bond. I’m not risking that unless there’s no other choice. I took us through the between.” He reached out and let his hand hover over the doorknob, unable to feel the telltale tingle of magic against his skin.

“The…wasn’t that where Greenway hid the flash drive?”

“Yup.”

“And you can…go…there?” Tommy continued slowly.

“If you know how. Most of us just use it like Greenway did. Like a hiding place. Kind of a magical safe-deposit box? But the between is as big or small as you know it is, and it exists wherever you know it will. So, if you know it’s big enough to fit you, and you know it exists where you want to be, you can get to it.”

“That—okay, that actually makes a weird sort of sense and explains a couple of encounters I’ve had over the years. I haven’t met any witch who could do something like that in a century or two, though.”

Evan shrugged, still examining the door. “Not a lot of us can, anymore. It’s old magic. Like, old-fashioned magic, not, uh, not old as in ancient. It’s easy to get lost in, so it’s not like it’s in the normal, everyday lessons. Sally only taught me because—” He broke off, his brain catching up with the amount of private information his mouth was just casually giving away.

Tommy was silent for a moment. “Sally was your familiar?” he asked gently.

Evan clenched his jaw, before nodding quickly. “I don’t think there’s any kind of spell on the door,” he said. Thankfully, Tommy accepted the abrupt subject change, stepping around Evan to grip the doorknob and give the door a fast, almost casual shove with his shoulder. The deadbolt snapped in an instant, and Tommy stepped back to interpose himself between Evan and anything that might be waiting for them inside.

Only silence greeted them, however.

Tommy cocked his head, listening intently, before his shoulders relaxed. “It’s empty,” he said. “But stay close.” He stepped inside the darkened interior of Greenway’s house. Evan took a deep breath and followed, his eyes roving over his surroundings curiously.

The house was surprisingly…sterile. It had all the trappings of a home—comfortable furniture, plush carpets on the floors, bookshelves full of books and mementos, art hanging on the walls. Yet, the place felt cold to Evan. There was none of the warmth and character of Tommy’s bungalow. The place felt like a showroom or a magazine cover. Everything perfectly chosen and placed to present a picture that it just…wasn’t.

It felt, he reflected wryly, like the house he had grown up in.

“Howie and Grant already searched the place for anything useful, but the high coven hasn’t gotten here yet. We need them to think we’re looking for something, get them to waste resources trying to find it first. Toss the place?” Tommy asked, glancing back at Evan with a questioning look. Evan shrugged, turning a slow circle in the large, open-plan living space that took up most of the first floor. Something felt…off.

“They really didn’t find anything?” he asked, his eyes darting around the room.

“Nada,” Tommy confirmed, watching as Evan looked all around him. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, I just…there’s something…” he trailed off, the frustratingly feeling of something just out of his reach dancing at the edge of his senses. His eyes fell on a mirror propped up in the corner of a set of recessed bookshelves that had been built into the walls on either side of a large picture window in what Greenway had set up as his living room. Directly in front of the window was a large, ornate wooden writing desk. Evan tilted his head and followed the line of where the mirror was facing…to another mirror mounted on the wall by the stairs to the second story. The mirror was positioned oddly, slightly off-center of where Evan would expect it to be, just enough to look a little wonky. In fact, if he stood in front of that mirror and followed the line of where it was facing, he would find…

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Evan muttered.

“What?” Tommy demanded immediately.

In answer, Evan spun another slow circle in the center of the room, tracing the sightlines of multiple mirrors positioned all around the room. That was what he was feeling. He hadn’t quite shaken the chill of the between from his senses, after all…and there was quite a lot of the between in this room.

“He hid something else here,” Evan said, finding the mirror that was positioned in the northernmost part of the room and pacing away from it until he was as close to the center of where the sight lines of all five of the mirrors around the living space met as he could get. “Fucking smart bastard, I’ll give him that.”

“Evan, what are you talking about? I’m pretty sure Howie and Grant would have known to look in this between place.”

“Yeah, but they might not have realized how big the between is here,” Evan countered. “Like I said…it’s not something a lot of witches learn anymore.”

Tommy tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked curious, though, not dismissive. “You keep talking like the size of it can change. Isn’t space…you know, space? Like there have to be boundaries.”

“Ever been in one of those house of mirrors they do at fairs and theme parks?” Evan asked, centering himself and focusing hard. He murmured the appropriate spell and reached toward the desk, the way he had in the office building to find the flash drive. The way he’d—sort of, it was a little more complicated than he’d explained to Tommy—done to get them from the car to the porch to avoid the sunlight. Only this time, he reached further into the between. Through all the layers of it that Greenway had folded it upon itself, over and over, until only a witch or familiar who regularly used it to shift themselves through space and not just store and hide things in would have even realized there was that much of it to explore in this house.

Evan did not travel through the between regularly. It was not something that witches did anymore, the dangers of getting lost too great. But he had been very carefully trained by someone who had learned the art in times when it had been a valuable tool for survival.

His hand closed on something in the between, and he curled his fingers around it and yanked. There was a soft pop in the air, and when he looked at the empty desk again, there was a small, leatherbound ledger sitting innocuously in the center of it. “Gotcha,” he hissed. He hurried forward and scooped the ledger off the desk, pulling at the bands of elastic that bound it at each corner.

“Great work Ev—GET DOWN!” Tommy’s voice changed in a flash, rising to a bellow as he lunged at Evan. Between one breath and the next, Tommy had made it across the room and wrapped himself around Evan, pulling Evan tight against his chest and spinning them around so that Tommy’s back was to the window.

There was a loud sound of shattering glass.

The clatter of something hitting the desk.

And then the whole world around Evan exploded into a mass of light. And sound. And force.

Evan felt himself lifted off his feet, flung across the room. Tommy’s body was wrapped tight around him, the vampire’s arms shielding him protectively, his face pressed hard against Tommy’s throat. They hit the floor hard enough that the breath was knocked from Evan’s lungs, but he was still dimly aware of Tommy taking the brunt of the landing, rolling them with the momentum, one hand cradling the back of Evan’s head and keeping it from cracking on the hardwood floors as they came to a rolling halt.

Evan coughed, everything spinning around him in dizzying circles, his ears ringing so loudly he could barely hear anything over it. His whole body hurt, and when he pulled his head back from Tommy’s neck, the room was suddenly hazy with smoke. What…what had—

“Tommy?” he gasped, when the vampire made no move to let go, to get up. “Tommy, what—”

He could hardly hear his own voice, though he knew he was shouting. He gripped Tommy’s shoulder, more relief than he was willing to examine at the moment sweeping through him when he felt the vampire’s muscles bunch under his touch, felt Tommy shudder and start to struggle to get up. Something was wrong, though.

His vampire was moving too slowly, too sluggishly. When Evan blinked some of the hazy smoke out of his eyes, Tommy’s face—mere inches from his own—was twisted in a grimace of pain. Something hard pressed into the top of Evan’s abdomen, right under his breastbone, and he slowly became aware of a hot wetness seeping into his borrowed shirt. Gasping, he wrenched himself backwards enough so he could look down, a buzzing that had nothing to do with his ringing ears filling his head when his eyes focused on the massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that was poking into his chest.

The massive, wickedly sharp chunk of splintered wood that had impaled Tommy through the back, gone clear through his body.

“Tommy! Tommy, what—”

“Evan…run,” his vampire managed to grit out, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“Aw come on Kinard. Let the witch stay.”

Evan’s heart sank, his eyes flying to the gaping hole where Greenway’s front window had been only seconds before. The blond vampire from the office building was clambering through the jagged opening, flanked by two other vampires that Evan hadn’t seen before. They were covered head to toe in the same getup that Tommy had been going to try to use to get across the sunny street—hoodies, gloves, long pants—but every inch of exposed skin was blistered and peeling, obviously burned by even what short exposure they’d had to the sun.

Blondie pulled his hood back, glaring at Evan and Tommy, a nasty smirk firmly in place on his face. Evan’s eyes flicked between the three of them as Tommy tried to push at his shoulder, still struggling to get his feet under him, even as more blood spurted out from around the piece of fucking shrapnel sprouting out of his chest.

Tommy was hurt. Badly.

The vampire who had protected him over and over, even when it made no logical sense for him to do so. The vampire who had been kinder and gentler to him over the past two days than any one of his own kind had been over the past five years. His vampire, who had refused to let Evan walk into danger alone.

His vampire, who had given up his own coven to stay by Evan’s side, against odds that would have sent any sane person running for the hills. His vampire.

Evan curled his arm protectively over Tommy’s back and reached for every drop of magic in his body, the most dangerous spell Sally had ever taught him fairly exploding out of him in a rush of power.

#911 abc #911 tv show #mywriting #bucktommy #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #buck x tommy #tommy kinard #shameless self promotion #kinley #firepilot #firebeast #tevan #tevan fic #bucktommy fic

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bubblesxo · 9 months ago

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(harvey bullock in the batfam)

okay, so this post is to elaborate on something i was talking about in tags the other day etc. etc.

so basically, my whole point was that bruce is a little chaos gremlin. he has so many bad habits and does so many illegal activities completely nonchalantly that it sometimes can make people question his mental state.

of course, this all originated from his childhood and the way that he was raised. we know from the gotham tv (which this post is specific to) that bruce was close with his parents, though his father did have secrets that eventually killed him. nevertheless, bruce was raised well for the first 12 years of his life. very well, in fact. he was rich, he had a butler and two loving parents---he had a good life.

and then his parents were shot in front of him.

12 years old and bruce is reborn. bruce after isn't the same person as bruce before. after the shooting, bruce has a purpose and a meaning to life. he knows what he needs to do---protect gotham and her people. make a difference. (though i won't get too ahead of myself.)

it starts out small. thomas wayne (bruce's dad) made alfred promise to never bring bruce to a psychologist if he and his wife were killed. alfred kept this promise and never did, even though that was definitely what bruce needed at the time.

bruce coped badly, especially at first. he had no appetite and stopped eating. he started burning himself, cutting himself, and holding his breath underwater so he could "test himself" and "overcome fear" (which is actually a recurring theme in the show). he went to the roof of his house and stood on the ledge to make himself not fear heights.

it was obvious then that bruce needed help, but he didn't get it. instead, he got alfred (who i love!!). however, just because i love alfred doesn't mean i can't acknowledge that he is one of the main reasons bruce ended up the way he did.

it's no secret that bruce is a little messed up. we all know that, right? anyway, alfred did a lot of crazy stuff in his time taking care of bruce, which is understandable, because he wasn't expecting to one day be going about his day and suddenly find himself a single father. he was definitely going through it with guilt and despair after his bosses were killed. didn't help that he had to find a way to care for their son.

anyway, alfred is also a bit odd. he has a strong opinion on what it means to be strong and also a strong opinion on bruce being safe. once, bruce sprained his ankle hiking and alfred let him crawl up a hill for half an hour. however, he followed that up with honoring one of bruce's prized family traditions. alfred frequently was a bit rough when teaching bruce to fight, which, admittedly, bruce didn't seem to mind, but he once did punch bruce in the nose after purposefully distracting him to make a point about him not being ready.

i don't think learning to fight is harmful, of course. i just think that the way those two went about it was... interesting. and pretty cool. they have a great bond and i love that for him.

anyway, alfred never pushed back against him. thomas also told alfred to let bruce choose his own path like all waynes did, which is why bruce has way too much control over his own life way too early. (again, not blaming alfred per se. the man was grieving and following the order to the letter.)

this led to bruce doing more and more reckless things over time and learning way too much for his age. his gets involved in vigilatism around the age of 15 (i do believe? my timeline there is fuzzy) and, while alfred makes his disapproval known, he doesn't stop him.

alfred teaches bruce that he needs to be strong. he teaches him to always expect the worst. he teaches him to always be on guard and to never give up when facing opposition. these are not necessarily bad things.

then, there's jim gordon. jim was the first person to really talk to bruce after his parents were killed, and he promises bruce that he'll find the man who was responsible. over time as this is revealed to be much more complicated than expected, jim does not grow apart from the family. if anything, it just seems to make them all closer togehter. their lives are completely linked.

now, when jim talks, he has the crazy ability to make persuasive speeches. it's one of his things, a motif of his in the show---he always gives speeches, especially when motivating people. now, as a kid, freshly orphaned, bruce needed motivation. jim tells bruce a lot of things that could be misinterpreted and come back to hurt him. he also, however, draws him in closer to the mess that is gotham and it's crime world. this encouragement only makes bruce more determined to get involve over time.

now, i made a post saying that these two basically coparented bruce, and i stand by this. alfred did all of the day-to-day stuff and helped really form bruce as a person, but jim was the one who really imparted his morals and hope on bruce.

jim taught bruce that everyone can be redeemed, and anyone can be saved. just like batman believes.

jim and bruce talk about darker and more complicated things as time passes. for example, they once talked about how you sometimes need to let go of your own pride in order to take care of other people (which ended up with a lot of bad results)

this leads to jim killing someone and bruce's brain being changed. he gets most of his morals from jim most likely, and jim is not necessarily particularly "good" often. he violates police procedure and the law frequently to help people.

now, jim's partner is harvey bullock. while he and bruce aren't the closest in the canon material for the show, they did have a few notable interactions and i believe that we can really extrapolate here.

before, i said that harvey would freak out at the realization that he's old. i stand by this. however, harvey also knows that he's getting older and will eventually need to leave the force in jim's hands.

harvey is a very blunt man. he knows how to lie but he doesn't really ever do so unless his life depended on it. when he talks to bruce, the two of them really click. despite harvey having committed so many crimes and broken many, many departmental policies, it is shown that he is still a good man deep down.

harvey tells bruce stories all the time. he talks to him about the legal AND illegal things that he has done both on and off the job, and bruce picks up on way too many of him. he gets /ideas/. he has the money, after all. he can learn how to do that stuff.

bruce really just wants to make life better for the others tbh. that's like his life goal. harvey basically teaches bruce how to emulate the more gritty parts of batman---torture in interrogation, breaking and entering, gathering information, how to break the law without getting caught, etc. etc. of course, some of his terms really rub off on bruce.

i'm imagining bruce calling someone "putz" as an insult. it's just so funny to me

i was falling asleep while writing this so i'm gonna snooze now and maybe add more later bcuz that was a bit lacking in harvey sorry!!

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mister-tom-a-dildo-lover · 9 months ago

Text

Secret Agent Boy-Who-Lived

Writer: Watermelonsmellinfellon Ship: Tomarrymort TAGS: AU-HBP, Humor, Crack, Voldemort/Horcrux Shenanigans.

~.O.~

‘Subtly inquire about his plans for the future and his thoughts regarding blood status.’

It wasn’t a difficult task. It wasn't something that Harry could not achieve. But could he achieve it with the best results when he was trying to be sneaky?

No.

If his life or the lives of others weren’t in danger, Harry was abysmal at pretending/sneaking. He usually got caught when he did so.

Dumbledore had asked it of him because of the new student. Well, ‘new student’.

Marvolo Slytherin, who was sorted into Slytherin. Harry had recognized that face anywhere. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Apparently, Voldemort had either gotten a new body, or he had made someone take the shape of his younger self. Either way, a young Dark Lord look alike roamed the halls of Hogwarts freely, having been sorted into Slytherin and taking up reins there.

Dumbledore had been rightfully wary and had asked Harry to befriend the ‘teen’. Voldemort should not know that Harry knew what his younger self looked like, according to Dumbledore. Harry should definitely be able to slip into the ‘teen’s’ life without much trouble.

Problem. Slytherin and Gryffindor were opposites. Their tables rested on opposite ends of the Great Hall. Their dorms on opposite ends of the school. Even in their shared classes, they sat on opposite sides of the room because Merlin forbid the students tried to mingle, let alone those from the most competitive Houses.

Harry knew he would have his work cut out for him. He contemplated the various ways he could stalk the teen but came up with nothing that wouldn’t get him a face full of flying bogeys or something worse.

Certainly the Slytherins would notice the Boy-Who-Lived skulking about them. He needed a way to insert himself into Slytherin’s day to day life. A way that actually made sense

And so he had come up with this plan. He was a Gryffindor and he was known for diving right in while the water was boiling. He couldn’t think of anything else to get him the results he desired, so this plan would have to do.

He had a map of Hogwarts, an Invisibility Cloak, and knowledge of secret corridors and tunnels he’d found on his own that weren't listed on the map, because they changed often.

In the middle of the lunch hour, when the students were stuffing themselves silly, Harry stood from his position at the Gryffindor Table and made his way across the Hall. Some people quieted down when they noticed he was going into ‘dangerous territory’. Harry ignored them, because he had to get this introduction done before he lost his nerve.

Stopping a foot away from the group of Fifth Year Slytherins who had all been in quiet discussion before his interruption, Harry waited until he had all of their attention, before speaking.

Voldemort - or should he just call him Marvolo for now? - was also looking at him and his dark blue gaze held obvious interest and some confusion, which was perfectly understandable. This wasn’t Harry’s usual behaviour after all.

“Hello, Mr. Potter.”

Slytherin’s voice was incredibly smooth and sounded so much like the Diary had. Harry took note of how equally handsome he was as well. Voldemort was an attractive bloke, that was for certain.

Fixing the act onto his face, Harry allowed a bright and beaming smile to shine down upon the Slytherins. “Hi!” he said, enthusiasm almost too much for him to control.

The Slytherins exchanged wary looks. He’d never acted in such a way toward any of them before, so he couldn’t blame their mistrust.

Keeping Slytherin’s gaze, Harry added, “I’m going to be spying on you.”

There was a collective hush at the table, which made the rest of the hall quiet down. Everyone was watching the interaction.

“O-kay?” Voldemort nodded, though he sounded questioning.

“Just thought you should know that I’ll be watching your every move!” Harry gave another blinding grin and traipsed back to his table, ignoring the looks, the whispers, and the questions his friends were shooting at him.

From his seat, he could see the shaking heads of the fellow Slytherins. Malfoy rolled his eyes for good measure. Marvolo Slytherin did not look worried in the least.

That was the idea. If Harry blatantly said one thing, but did another, it would cause… suspicion. Hopefully, they’d be too unnerved by his declaration to consider he’d have ulterior motives. He was a Gryffindor after all. He couldn’t possibly be capable of thinking that far ahead.

~.O.~

Harry began his journey on the weekend. After he was called into Snape’s office and pretty much taken to task over his lacklustre plan and ‘completely idiotic ruination of the original plan with his Gryffindorish tendencies’, he set to stalking.

Harry slipped the Invisibility Cloak on and opened the map. Voldemort’s name - which actually came out to Tom Marvolo Riddle-Slytherin - was in the library. Not shocking, as the man most likely wanted something in the Restricted Section. Also, from how he’d sounded back in Second Year, the man was probably a swotty know-it-all.

Harry traversed the corridors silently, avoiding groups of students and any ghosts. They could apparently feel people when floating through them and would know he was there, even if under the Cloak. He was not taking risks with this.

Harry ducked behind an aisle that was a few feet from Voldemort. He slipped the Cloak and map into his bag and made it look as if he was browsing like others normally did. He nabbed a book on Runes and flipped it open to a random page.

Sowilo. Sigil. Sol. Something to represent the Sun. The shape of the rune on the page made him think of his scar. How interesting that this was the page he opened a random book up to. In fact, he’d never wondered why his scar was the shape it was, and suddenly wondered if there was a deeper meaning to it.

“Potter?”

Harry looked up, finding himself confronted with Slytherin. The other ‘teen’ looked surprised to see him there. Like it was impossible for Harry to set foot in a library. He withheld a scoff, because he’d set foot in this particular one, seven times, including this time. That was way more than the typical Gryffindor.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully, masking his annoyance with practice he’d learned from dealing with the Dursleys. “What are you in for?”

His eyes landed on the book about… Magical Illness? Why did Voldemort need such a book?

“Some light reading.”

For a second, Harry thought of Hermione. The book in those slim hands was not ‘light’ in any way. It could probably knock Hagrid out if thrown hard enough. Probably over a thousand pages as well. He shivered in terror at the thought of sitting down with such a book.

“And you?” queried the Slytherin.

Harry’s arms were already moving to turn the book around, displaying the rune for the man/teen to see. “Doesn’t this look like my scar?”

It was the best he had on such short notice. Lying on the spot wasn’t his best when he wasn’t in a hurry.

“Indeed. It could mean that you are blessed with great luck or success.”

Harry snorted. It didn’t specify which kind of luck though, did it? And his luck had been historically terrible.

“You don’t concur?”

Who even said words like ‘concur’ anymore? Unless it was Snape, Harry was definitely sure that this was Voldemort.

“No, I think it pretty much spells out the story of my life. Just that it never specifies what sort of luck I am ‘blessed’ with.”

With a shake of the head, Harry placed the book back on the shelf, uninterested in pursuing anything on Sowilo further.

Marvolo gave a nod. “As long as you’re certain.”

Yes, he was.

~.O.~

Slytherin had just left the Great Hall to head to Double Potions! If Harry was quick, he could make it there before him!

To the left of the Entrance Hall was a secret passageway that opened when someone sang Little Miss Moffat. The passage led to a portrait that was about ten feet away from the Potions Classroom. It was not common knowledge and Harry intended to keep it that way.

He brushed himself off and skipped ahead to wait in front of the door, knowing it would be baffling to see him already waiting. A moment later, Marvolo rounded the corner and paused mid stride to take in the fact that Harry was already there when Harry had obviously just been at breakfast and had even caught his eye as he was leaving.

Harry had to withhold his giggles because this was becoming fun! Who knew stalking Voldemort would bring him such entertainment?

This should have been a relatively serious situation, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit light over it. It’d been a while since Hogwarts was this fun.

What else could he do to throw the Dark-Lord-Turned-Teenager off his guard?

~.O.~

On Hallowe’en night, Harry had trailed after the Slytherins and managed to enter their Common Room with a group of First Years. He then stood beside the fireplace - which was alight with green flames - and waited for the perfect opportunity. Never had he been more grateful for his Invisibility Cloak.

In fact, he realised that he, Hermione, and Ron could have just used that to get into the Common Room in their Second Year and probably should have done just that instead of stealing potions ingredients.

Well, it was in the past so he couldn’t really do anything about it now.

This part of the operation included subtlety. As subtle as Harry could be really. Every now and then he would reveal his head and then hide it again, while he chose a new side of the room to hide in. It was funny to see people double take or even triple take.

Of course, there was no chance of the possibility of Voldemort summoning the Cloak, even if he knew about it. The Cloak could not be summoned. A nifty little feature that Harry was ever so grateful for.

Eventually, someone went to a Prefect, which got a wider level of attention, and eventually, Marvolo became involved as they searched the room for the mysterious Harry Potter head.

Harry snickered quietly to himself and proceeded to wait by the door for someone to leave so he could sneak out. It was far too easy to rile the Slytherins up.

Distantly, he was aware of how this was not the plan to get information out of Voldemort, but it was the most interesting things had been since Fourth Year, so he’d rather keep doing things his own way and hope for the best.

~.O.~

A/N: An idea from a very long time ago. I decided to share it here to tide everyone over while I have to deal with personal problems irl.

#tomarry #harrymort #fanfiction #watermelonsmellifellon #scheduled post

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stardustluvs · 1 year ago

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Hi, I loved your writing for Nolan✨️✨️

Is your order open? If not, you can disregard this ask

my idea: after recording "7 days drifting at sea" Nolan arriving home and just wanting to rest his girlfriend. I need more Nolan stuff! he is so funny and cute

Fighting Sleep - Nolan X Reader

Word Count: 838

Pairing: Nolan Hansen x fem!Reader

Summary: What the req says

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Am I the Nolan blog yet?

Requests are open! || masterlist

It had already been nearly an hour since Nolan’s been home, and he was visibly exhausted. You couldn’t really blame him either. He had been gone a whole week on a raft in the middle of the sea, and you hadn’t really had a way to keep in contact with him.

He hugged you for what felt like ten years, not that you were complaining, the second he saw you.

It was probably the longest you two had been apart since you started going out, and it was only for a week, which really spoke volumes. Who was to blame you though? You were basically attached at the hip. You had been invited to nearly every video set, and it was very rare that you declined, just because you wanted to be near Nolan.

You did however, decline the offer for this video. It didn’t appeal to you at all and you had no desire to drift at sea for a week, not when you had your own things to tend to here at home. You didn’t even really want Nolan to go, but for whatever reason, he accepted Jimmy’s offer.

Currently it was going on eight pm, and the house fell silent as you laid cuddled up with Nolan in your shared bedroom. A movie played softly on the TV, but you were positive neither of you were paying attention. He was too busy running a hand through your hair gently, or whispering to you about how much he missed you.

“I wish you were there, but I’m also glad you weren’t,” He laughed softly.

You tilted your head up a little to look at him. You moved up slightly to kiss his cheek.

“I’m glad I wasn’t there either,” You responded, poking fun at the fact that you knew it could not have been enjoyable, judging by the fact that Nolan just seemed so drained.

“Why don’t you sleep, you’re tired,” You told him.

He just shook his head, “I just want to lay here with you,” He replied, trying to hide the fact that he yawned almost immediately after.

You gave him a knowing look but decided to not push, knowing that he’d be out like a light soon enough. You were just waiting for it to happen.

He kissed the top of your head before you snuggled back up to his chest. You wished he never left, and you were just so glad to have him back in your space.

His arms which had been wrapped around your body squeezed you lightly. If you hadn't known that he was tired before, you would have figured he was exhausted by now.

You glanced up at him again, watching him fight sleep. You noticed the way his eyes would shut for a few moments before he would open them again, over and over.

"Sleep, Nol..." You whispered, "I'll still be here in the morning," You reassured.

"No, I'm fine, I wanna stay up with you for a bit longer," He insisted, shifting a little as a way to try to keep himself awake.

"From what I heard, you barely slept at all this week, don't keep yourself exhausted," You said, offering a slight laugh at the end of your sentence, trying to prove how ridiculous he was being.

He just shook his head and you rolled your eyes, "Tell me about your week," He said.

"Just hung around, missing you. Wondering why on Earth you wanted to do this video," You teased.

He knew it definitely was not a video for everyone, but he appreciated the challenge and knew it couldn't be so bad as long as his friends had been there with him. He did feel a little iffy about drifting at sea with no way to expect what would happen next, but Jimmy had reassured him at least twenty times that everything would be completely under control.

Well, everything but the weather.

The weather was the worst part, and he's surprised he didn't end up sick from being out in the rain like that, or even the heat.

"I missed you too, a lot," He replied, "I'm glad I get to be home now."

You were glad too. If you could, you'd never let him leave your side, but that was unrealistic, and you refused to be that kind of girlfriend. He reminded you of how he appreciated you nearly every day.

After a few beats of silence, you noticed the way his breathing slowed. You felt his arms loosen around your body, and you smiled to yourself.

You smiled softly at him before reaching down and pulling the blankets over the two of you a little higher. You shifted slightly, getting comfy before shutting your eyes.

Honestly, you hoped he'd never leave for something like that again, but you knew it was inevitable, and as long as was enjoying himself. Though, you didn't quite see the appeal in drifting in open water for a week straight, but to each their own.

"Goodnight, Nolan."

#mcyt #x reader #mcyt x reader #mrbeast crew #mrbeast crew x reader #mrbeast crew fluff #nolan hansen #nolan hansen fluff #nolan hansen x reaeder #nolan hansen x reader fluff #drabble #blurb #fluff #fluff blurb #fluff drabble #x reader fluff #kit’s requests

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kestalsblog · 3 months ago

Text

MerStan Part 2 🧜‍♂️

Part One

For those of you who liked my Merman Stan drabble from a while ago, I wrote a little more 🙈 I just love mermen too much!

Eric never really knew how any of the wild bullshit that went down in South Park happened, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to spend his Saturday night hurtling down the highway in Kenny’s truck with a kidnapped merman in the back. This was the definition of “everything was a blur.” Kyle was shouting hysterical orders at Kenny in the front seat, Kenny was swerving in and out of traffic in an attempt to dodge any police cars, and Cartman was in the backseat trying to look to the rear to make sure the merman was okay.

Kenny hadn’t been thrilled about filling the back of the truck with water, but it had been the only way to guarantee the merman’s safety during the chaotic drive from the restaurant back to Kenny’s place. Cartman was more concerned about the giant plastic tarp they’d been forced to strap over the merman’s makeshift pool in an attempt to hide him from other drivers.

“If we get arrested, I’m so killing all of you, starting with you, fatass!” Kyle shrieked when Kenny took a violently sharp turn that had the wheels squealing on the tar. But Cartman knew Kyle well enough to guarantee he was probably at least a little high off the adrenaline right now. The rescue had partially been his idea, after all, and he’d been the one to take out the security cameras while Eric and Kenny worked on destroying the glass.

Carrying the frightened merman had been the most difficult part because he’d panicked as soon as he saw Kenny’s glass cutter and realized all the water was spilling from his tank. He’d thrown himself toward the bottom of the tank in a desperate attempt to flatten his body under the draining water, and Cartman knew they had to work fast.

It would have been faster, though, if the merman wasn’t so heavy. Despite his lithe torso, his tail added what felt like a billion pounds to his weight. Slipping all over the flood of water and stumbling in the darkness of the closed building hadn’t helped.

Eric worried some that the merman would become aggressive once in their arms; he wouldn’t have blamed him. But instead he just shook all over and inhaled terrified, gasping breaths while his big eyes opened and then shuttered over and over. His loud, ragged struggle to breathe was awful to listen to, and even in the dark, Eric could see his gills widening. He’d told Kenny to haul his ass faster. They had to get him to the truck they’d filled with hose water.

Now they were turning into Kenny’s driveway, then the garage, and all four of them were scrambling to open their car doors and check on the merman’s condition. Eric was certain they were equally worried that he might not have survived the journey.

Everyone released a breath when Kyle pulled back the tarp and they saw the merman, staring at them with his head half underwater, corralled into the furthest corner. Getting his massive tail to fit had been a challenge, and Eric’s heart hurt some seeing how he’d been forced to curl the elegant tailfin into brutally small dimensions to stay hidden.

“Go start the bath,” Cartman barked at Kenny because why the hell were they all just standing around when the merman looked petrified and uncomfortable?

“The bath or the hot tub?” Only Kenny was ridiculous enough to have a full-sized hot tub in the center of his house.

“The hot water might be too hot. He came from cold water originally,” added Kyle.

“You think I’d buy a cheap hot tub where I can’t control the temperature?” “Oh, shut up! Just go get it started. He’s in pain,” snapped Eric.

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day when Eric’s the one to remember empathy first,” sneered Kyle while Kenny jogged off to prepare the hot tub.

“Only when it concerns a hot guy!” he shouted from inside. Eric flipped him two birds he couldn’t even see.

“Don’t worry,” Kyle said, turning his attention to the merman with a softened tone. “We’re going to get you out of there.”

They hadn’t thought anything past this point through yet, but Eric was thankful they were at least all on the same page about putting an end to the merman’s suffering. He was a deathly silent creature while he watched them. The darting motion of his pupils was the only noticeable movement, though Cartman noticed that if he focused closely, he could see the rapid jitters of his gills and fins.

For all the merman knew, he was about to face something much worse than what he’d already experienced. His opinion of humans couldn’t be too high. Eric hated to think they were accidentally triggering his trauma of being caught in the first place, but sometimes you had to get a little worse to get better.

If the merman understood English, he would’ve tried to explain, but there was no indication he had an idea what any of them were saying.

“Water’s ready!” Kenny called, and a few minutes later, he reappeared to help with the arduous chore of unloading the merman and carrying him to the hot tub. “I need an eternal nap after this,” he muttered.

After a difficult, awkward struggle, Kenny took the merman from under the arms while Kyle and Eric took on the tail together. This time, the merman fell limp and closed his eyes, but Eric could see where he was clearly trying to regulate his breathing as they moved through the doorway. Obviously he’d learned from last time that hyperventilating out of water only cost him more precious oxygen.

Cartman could practically feel his relief when the three of them dumped him into the water. Immediately, he dunked his head and disappeared from view. Thank God Kenny had a fairly big hot tub, but Eric noticed how the merman was determined to keep his long tail underwater even though he’d have more room if he let it flop freely over the side of the tub.

“What do we feed him?” asked Cartman. Surely the poor guy was starving by now. They had no idea when he’d last been fed.

“Uh, I have some of those fish flakes you give pet fish,” said Kenny. Kyle’s objection was quick and harsh.

“He wouldn’t be eating that out in the wild, would he? We need to replicate his natural diet as best as we can. He probably eats other, smaller fish.”

“I might have some sushi?” Kenny went to look while Eric and Kyle stood at the edge of the hot tub, staring down and waiting for the merman to reemerge.

“He really is beautiful,” murmured Kyle after a moment, and Cartman glanced over to see how his eyes were following the subtle motions of the merman’s flickering tail underneath the surface. Every now and then, Eric saw the faint blue glint of his scales catching Kenny’s dim overhead lights.

“Guys, all I have is some uncooked shrimp I planned to fix next week,” Kenny said, reappearing with a disappointed expression and a plastic container full of the shrimp. As soon as he peeled the lid off, the top half of the merman’s head resurfaced. His water-colored eyes targeted the shrimp, and then he lifted his entire head and shoulders.

“Maybe he smells it,” whispered Kyle with excitement. The three of them were like schoolchildren who’d just discovered a hungry, needy kitten on the outskirts of the playground. Every movement was careful, every word spoken in hushed breaths. When Kenny slowly peeled out a shrimp, both Eric and Kyle glared when he was a bit too loud with the task and the merman withdrew slightly.

“Should I just . . . toss it in the water?” asked Kenny.

“Let me try handing it to him. I want him to trust us,” offered Cartman. He also selfishly wanted a closer look at the merman, though he wasn’t too surprised when he took the shrimp, came closer, and the merman, watching his every move, retreated to the other side of the hot tub. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He tried to make his voice smooth and comforting. Again, it felt like speaking to an injured animal. He hoped he wasn’t demeaning. The merman didn’t exactly seem like an animal.

Cartman extended his arm to hold out the shrimp, and the merman straightened up like the water was electric. Eric smiled when he saw how his nostril’s expanded as he sniffed out the shrimp’s scent on the air.

Either Kenny or Kyle gasped behind him when the merman slowly drifted from one side of the tub to the other. He inched closer to Eric, struggling to maneuver the tail as he went. Cartman wholeheartedly expected him to take the shrimp with his hand, so he was stunned to near-paralysis when the merman craned his long, pretty neck forward and gently accepted the shrimp from his fingers with his teeth.

His teeth were much like a human’s he saw, but maybe slightly sharper. Cartman couldn’t resist a shudder when the severe edge of one grazed his fingertip, followed by the caress of a petal-soft lip and the warm touch of his tongue. It all happened so quickly that Eric was still trying to recover from the interaction while the merman zipped backward away from him, sinking into the depths with his cheek stuffed full of shrimp.

“S-Should we give him more?” asked Kyle, clearing his throat. Eric forced his frozen head to move to look at his friends and saw they were equally as captivated. “Uh, I can try giving him this one,” Kyle said next.

“No way!” said Eric. “It’s my job to feed him. You can clean out the water.”

“Oh my God, it’s not like we’re keeping him here forever,” Kenny interrupted them. “But someone’s gotta feed the poor guy.”

The merman saw Kenny open the container again, and his head popped back up. This time it was followed by the flowing ends of his tailfin, which giddily slapped the water a couple of times. Looking closer, Eric saw that his eyes appeared marginally different than before—the pupils were smaller, almost thin and predatory, as he watched the shrimp pass between their hands. Somehow even this feral look only added to his beauty.

Before Kyle could steal his glory, Eric offered another shrimp to the merman. This time he lunged forward, a cold hand clamping around Cartman’s wrist in seconds. Eric cried out in surprise, almost dropping the fish. Both of his friends came to his sides in case he needed help, but the merman didn’t attempt to hurt him. He simply held him in place as he strained his mouth toward the shrimp between Eric’s fingers.

The merman’s fingers, enclosing his whole wrist, were long and surprisingly strong. Eric could feel the cold webbing between them, which was somewhat gelatinous to the touch. A cold, jellylike substance wasn’t exactly what Eric would think of as appealing, but somehow right now, it was. But nothing compared to when the merman sunk both his lips over Cartman’s fingers to take the snack into his cheek again. Still grasping Eric’s wrist, he pulled back to slice the shrimp to quick slivers with his sharp teeth and swallow.

Eric might as well have become gelatin himself when the merman, seemingly not done with the beloved flavor, covered his fingers with his mouth again and licked them clean. His skin was almost freezing, but his mouth was burning hot.

And then, just like that, he was done with his meal and done with Eric. He flashed the wild eyes up to him for a brief instant and then dropped his head under the surface so all any of them could see was the iridescent black wisps of his hair bubbling about his head.

“Oh God,” someone said after a moment—Eric had no idea who.

#south park stanman #stanman #stan marsh #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #fanfic #mermen #stan merman #drabble #i wrote this to be stanman but they're all falling for merstan lol #hes too pretty #kestal #mermaid #South Park stan

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morganaspendragonss · 16 days ago

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i'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

requested by @alostsock for 'asthma attack' on my @anyfandomgoesbingo (it's definitely not been two years shut up) i actually really enjoyed writing this and i wouldn't mind doing more bridgerton fic in the future! title from brother by kodaline ao3 | 1.9k | benedict & anthony, hurt/comfort, pre-canon

Everything changes when their father dies. How could it not? Edmund Bridgerton was known by all in the ton and liked by most, and even those with cause for distaste felt the shockwaves unleashed by his death.

But none of them ever knew the true horror of it all.

Benedict remembers that day clearly; he’s the only one, besides Anthony, who does. Even Colin had been barely more than a child, and their mother had been so lost in her grief that he doubts in her memories she can distinguish one day from the next.

But Benedict remembers that day, and all the days that followed, all the changes they wrought. Changes that manifested in the ton, in their home, in himself and in every one of his brothers and sisters. Even little baby Hyacinth, still in their mother’s belly when he died, was changed.

None of them, though, so much as Anthony.

He hardens, turns to stone against the world; laughter and smiles took a long time to return to Bridgerton House, but sometimes it seems like they never returned to Anthony. Alongside his father, Benedict mourns for his brother – Anthony had always been a serious child, always aware of his status as the oldest, the Viscount ascendent, but their father had been the kind of man who would never die.

Until he did, of course.

And Anthony…

Very few people, including their own siblings, know that Anthony was a sick child. No-one outside their household, really, save the doctor who once proclaimed that he would not live to see his sixth year. It is satisfying to think that, not only was he wrong, but Anthony has now outlived him by a decade.

Of course, there was talk at the time of the Bridgertons' sickly child, especially when Benedict’s birth followed so swiftly afterwards. But memories are short in the ton and gossip is frequent, so nobody remembers anymore how Anthony would sometimes collapse in the street, struggling to breathe and looking for all the world like he was inches from death’s door.

No-one would believe it anyway, to look at him now. Anthony has grown into a man and it’s been a long time since anyone in the ton has seen him as anything other than Edmund Bridgerton’s strong eldest son. The attacks were for their home, and any that broke through his control in public were blamed on his ever-growing collection of younger siblings and their illnesses. Anthony played his role for the ton, but at home, in front of their mother and father and Benedict, he was himself.

Then it happened, and Benedict found himself mourning both father and brother.

Anthony lives in his study these days. He rarely breakfasts with them, always caught up in this thing or that, and he never plays with the younger ones anymore. That duty falls to Benedict now, and while he doesn’t mind, it’s clear that Colin and Daphne, at least, do.

“Anthony is much better at this than you,” Daphne haughtily informs him over a game of marbles.

Benedict doesn’t doubt it; he thinks even baby Hyacinth or little Gregory could thrash him at Ring Taw. They’ve been playing for fifteen minutes and his own pile of won marbles is woefully small. Colin’s is only slightly bigger, whereas Daphne holds the lion’s share. Somehow, though, she looks less than impressed with her haul as she stares down Benedict with contempt.

He flicks another marble into the circle – and misses, of course. Daphne sighs and dramatically flicks her own marble, claiming another handful for herself.

“See?”

“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to play with a failure such as myself,” Benedict retorts. He gestures to her pile. “You’re winning, rather spectacularly, I might add.”

Daphne huffs with all the exasperation in her eleven-year-old body. “It’s boring,” she insists. “There’s no competition when you and Colin are terrible.”

Colin, who up until that point had been quietly rolling his marbles around, grabs one of the biggest and launches it at Daphne. Benedict can only watch as the marble sails across the room and crashes–

–into a bunch of potted lilies. Colin sighs in disappointment; Benedict in relief. Thank God his brother doesn’t have particularly good aim. He gathers the remaining marbles up before either of them can get any more ideas and puts the bag away on a high shelf.

“Right,” he says, folding his arms and staring down at his siblings. “I think we’ve had enough marbles for today. How about a round of pall-mall in the garden?”

It’s a fine spring day outside and Benedict is sure that the fresh air will do them good, himself included. But if he expected his siblings to join in with his enthusiasm – which, usually, is a given when pall-mall is involved – then he is disappointed; they remain on the floor, exchanging doubtful glances.

“Will Anthony play?” Colin asks, voice small.

The well-worn excuse of Anthony being busy is on the tip of his tongue, but Benedict forces it back when he catches sight of their faces. Wide eyes, near tears – neither of them are young enough to believe the lies that Anthony and their mother and Benedict himself have been trying to ply them with. They’ve noticed how Anthony has changed and they miss their brother, and it awakens something in Benedict – a part of himself that had gone into hiding that day – that misses Anthony so hard it aches.

So when he assures his siblings, “I’ll make sure he does,” he means it.

He slows to a tiptoe and his confidence fades as he approaches the study door. It used to belong to their father, this room, until one day it silently became Anthony’s, like so much else in this house. When he tentatively knocks on the door, Benedict half-expects his father to answer, half-expects his smooth, familiar baritone to welcome him inside.

Instead, there is silence.

Benedict sighs and knocks again, more insistent this time. “Anthony,” he calls, loud enough that his brother has to hear him. “I know you’re in there, I need a word.” And some more, but he’s not fool enough to open with that.

Still more silence, and Benedict starts to doubt if he is in there. But, where else would he be? Taking air in the garden? Not likely, not when he has his duties to tend to.

“Anthony!” Benedict shouts this time, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. He promised Daphne and Colin that Anthony would play with them, and he’ll manage it if it’s the last thing either of them do.

He flings the door open, speech on his lips–

Only for it to die in an instant. Anthony is bent over his desk, barely on his feet, with one hand gripping the wood so hard his knuckles are turning white, the other pulling ineffectually at his cravat. Wheezes rather than breaths leave his mouth and his face has gone bright red, eyes bloodshot and bulging.

Benedict is not proud, later, of the way he freezes. He just hasn’t seen Anthony like this in so long, and it’s terrifying, it always has been, to see his older brother become so weak. It’s only when Anthony’s hand abandons his cravat and starts scrabbling across the desk that Benedict comes back to life, and he jumps across the room, gripping his brother’s shoulders and steering him with far too much ease into a chair.

Searching his brain for memories of what used to help, he runs back to the door and sticks his head out, flagging down a passing maid.

“Run a bath,” he commands. “A cold one.”

She frowns at him. “Now, sir?”

“Yes, now!”

Her eyes widen and she scurries off with a mumbled “Yes, sir,” and Benedict doesn’t have time to feel bad because when he turns around, Anthony is slumped over, arm outstretched across the desk. His grasping hand almost upends the decanter of what Benedict assumes is some sort of liquor, but when he catches it and moves it away from Anthony’s struggling, his brother all but growls at him.

“No,” he gasps, barely. “Need.”

It’s not really the time to be getting drunk, but Benedict trusts his brother, so he pours a few fingers into a glass. He has to guide it to his lips, Anthony’s hands shaking too much not to drop it, and half of the liquid spills down his brother’s waistcoat. When the glass is empty, Anthony is reaching again, pointing to a box on the side table.

Benedict opens it, and this he remembers. It was something this newfangled doctor, who apparently suffered from the same condition as Anthony, had recommended some years ago, and it was like a miracle when it came to his treatment. The herbal syrup doesn’t cure his attacks, not completely, but it eases them enough for them to get Anthony into a cold bath or resting in bed.

It takes a few agonising minutes, but eventually Anthony’s breathing evens out a little. There’s still an awful, rattling quality to it, but he’ll live – Benedict hopes.

“Are you well, brother?” he asks, when it seems like Anthony might be alright to start talking.

He receives a hard look in return. “What…” A cough, harsh enough to have Benedict wincing in sympathy. “What do you want?”

Benedict raises his eyebrows. “Hello to you too. And you’re welcome, by the way. I came here to drag you outside for a game of pall mall, and a good thing too; seems like I arrived just in time.”

“I was fine.”

He won’t dignify that with a response. Anthony will never admit to needing help, not this version of him anyway, and Benedict isn’t going to waste his energy trying. There’s a knock at the door just then and the maid from earlier steps inside.

“The bath you requested is ready, sir,” she says, surprised eyes taking in the scene before her. No doubt gossip of the viscount’s discomposed state will make its way around the servants’ quarters within the hour, but there are enough staff who remember the worst of Anthony’s illness that Benedict is confident it won’t spread farther.

“Excellent,” he says, then turns to Anthony. “Brother.”

Anthony glares, but he does stand and make his way out of the room with the servant. Benedict follows closely behind; his brother won’t accept a hand to steady him, but he still looks like he could keel over at any second.

“I’ll tell Daphne and Colin that you have a headache and are resting,” he informs him conversationally. “But as soon as you’re well, you owe them a round of pall mall.”

“Do I?” Anthony replies. He stops as they reach the door to the bathing room and turns around, and Benedict is startled by his lowered gaze. “Thank you, Benedict,” he murmurs. “For…everything.”

Benedict watches, wide-eyed, as his brother disappears behind the door. He hasn’t seen that level of vulnerability in Anthony…ever, really, and it’s strange. Unnerving.

But a good sign, he thinks. Underneath the grief and the weight of duty, his brother is still there. He’ll make his way back to them. Benedict is sure of it.

#bridgerton #bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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bitethedevil · 7 months ago

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So we know cambions' relationship with sex, especially Raphael. I'm curious about his interest in Tav, or another s/o, who is asexual. He thinks he can seduce Tav, and kind of does through everything that leads to the deals he wants to make in the third act. Maybe Tav even made the deal right away to be saved from the tadpole.

But if he catches feelings for Tav during the game. He flirts, Tav even reciprocates, if a little nervously! Tav doesn't take the deal with Harleep, obviously, but that can be explained away. They don't take up the twins' offer in Sharesses Caress. They don't seem to be involved with their companions either. Raphael starts showing up more frequently to check on his little mouse, favoring them and advancing when he can.

Finally, he sets up his office in the House of Hope with the intention of a real date. His mouse is a little oblivious, but surely they'll notice the rose petals, good wine, his doublet already unbuttoned at the top. Surely his little mouse will finally see where he wants them: at his side.

But in the midst of flirting and wordplay, Tav finally says that they have no interest in sex, for their reasons. It isn't just Raphael. It isn't something he can blame himself for, isn't something he can make a deal to change, it's part of who his little mouse is. They offer themselves anyway, because other feelings are reciprocated. A relationship with no sexual intimacy but everything else soft that Raphael has never tasted in the hells.

He is conflicted, and maybe his feelings for his mouse disappear (Tav's own nightmare), or he embraces it because he still has Harleep for his sexual needs. Tav holding his head to their chest and playing with his hair is still intimate, and he could get used to cuddling and already loves their conversations. But does he still yearn for his mouse in selfish ways he can't have? Or does he embrace them as they are? As an asexual myself with a crush on the cambion I'm curious to see what other people have to say!

I do think that Raphael himself has a interesting relationship with sex, in my headcanon at least. I think in 99% of cases that it for him is either 1) something that is simply to sate urges and getting it over with (Haarlep) or 2) used as a way to establish control over someone or manipulate them in some way. A devil like Raphael actually isn’t supposed to participate in sex at all (Explanation in my post here).

I think asexual love might be odd for him in the beginning, because he would be trying to work out how else to manipulate someone romantically, dark as that sounds. But I think after a while he would still like getting that affection from somewhere. All he really wants is someone who is obsessed with him and who needs him, I think. Does he reciprocate those feelings and the affection though? Meeeh, eh…If he does it isn’t out of anything that we would call love, at least not according to my headcanon of him. But yes, I think the sex he can definitely do without, because as you said: he has Haarlep for that.

(Thank you for the ask <3 And I really loved to hear all the thoughts you had made about it. Very well written and an interesting concept)

#raphael the cambion #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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sonicasura · 4 months ago

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I decided to expand more on the KN8/DQ crossover involving Kafka raising Psaro. This includes shenanigans pre-canon for the both anime and the Dark Prince videogame than just their respective canon. Let's get started!

Young!Psaro didn't trust Kafka when they first met. In fact the youth would spend three days trying to figure him out. The young prince realizes Kafka meant no harm after he protected him from one of the bullies' parents.

Miriam never been quite happier since the Monster Sweeper came into her family's lives. Seeing Psaro get to smile more often and play happily was enough to entrust her son to Kafka. Miriam passes away with a peaceful look on her face as if knowing the boy's future is now bright.

Psaro clings to Kafka for an entire week after his mother perishes. The boy's sleep schedule even gotten messed up as his nightmares haunt him more during the night. Kafka takes a small 2 week vacation so he could better handle Psaro without the work stress. Both would visit Miriam's grave on the anniversary of her death each year.

How many times does Kafka introduce new sports to the Dragonquest world? At least three separate occasions: a game of soccer in Rosehill, basketball in Yetisburg, and bowling in Dragglenook. These sports pretty much blow up all over Nadiria, Terrestria, to even Zenithia.

Psaro has always been curious about his foster father's world. Kafka tends to share stories or interesting information with the young boy from time to time. A small personal goal fulfilled by the creation of the Charcoal Travelite.

Kafka originally taught himself to wield a sword. Psaro decides to help the Sweeper out as best he could. Training was one of the moments the young cambion accidentally called Kafka 'father'. (Do know the himbo dropped his wooden sword on his foot hearing that.)

It takes two weeks for Psaro to fully realize he sees Kafka as his real father after the third slip up. (The youth never experienced a father's love so he did ask an actual dad in Rosehill about it.) Psaro only calls Kafka 'father' whether in private, with close friends or from strong emotions. (Yes the himbo cried hearing those words said purposely.)

Psaro and shopping tend to not mix often. Especially if he's trying to get groceries in Japan as something tends to happen with a 40% chance. Whether its a kaiju attack, him getting lost that one time, or something else is random at best.

Kafka almost caused a major disturbance in the Coliseum when a captive Rose was introduced after the Category G tournament. Psaro was the only person keeping him from being hunted down by angry royalty for assault and freeing their elf. No one could stop Kafka for talking back and insulting the Zenith Dragon to his face though.

Himbo has a habit of befriending unconventional monsters. First sign is a scared injured Platypunk(Perry) who snuck into Kafka's house in Rosehill. Or Psaro really should've foreseen his dad befriending the giant Iron Maiden(very same one that messes with Narumi later) in the Lower Echelon of Indulgence. Well that's one giant monster he doesn't have to worry about scouting later.

If the Rosehill trio learn any modern slang then blame Reno. Kafka had a small hand in it but the youth are more verbal about this particular vocab than him. If it spreads to other monsters then you know why.

Kafka definitely helps out any new monster recruits from the different Echelons get used to working under Psaro. (Fuego was very happy to know he spoke Spanish and the two often have long conversations in said language.) This kindness only boosts his popularity amongst his son's ranks.

Psaro doesn't like Isao at all. The man reminds him too much of Randolfo so expect the prince being a bit protective around Kikoru. Absolutely teaches Isao a lesson when he tries to execute Kafka.

It was a group effort to calm Riot No.8(Psaro/Toilen/Rose/Perry/Purrvis/Percival/Fizzy.) Their words help the enraged kaiju regain control as it reminds Kafka and Ai about the promise they made themselves. Both wouldn't become like other kaiju. Kafka, Ai and their identity as No.8 are protectors. Tiny would be addressed this soon.

That's all I have for now! Do have another idea but it would fit better on a different post. For now, enjoy this crane who been stealing from my house's bird feeder.

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 2 years ago

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What if, the second before Edward smells her, Bella's gift switched hers and Jasper's scents?

Bella has a very awkward, but very different, Biology lesson than canon.

She's eager to get to know hotty Cullen she saw at lunch. I imagine she tries to introducer herself. Edward gives her a look that's a cross between bored contempt (for he truly is bored and contemptuous) and 'ew what is that' (because he can't hear her thoughts and it's wigging him out, man).

Bella feels flustered and humiliated without saying another word as she feels that Edward Cullen thinks she's stupid. This, of course, is unfair of him and he's clearly an asshole (but secretly Bella thinks he's right and is silently crying on the inside because he's riiiiight and she's duuuuuuumb).

Things get weird when Edward goes home.

Now, Edward probably doesn't figure out it's Jasper for a little bit. This is because, when he meets his family in the parking lot to go home, they're standing in a group. What Edward does know is that one of them, suddenly, smells fucking delicious.

He stops and stares at them, blinking, wondering if a new human is suddenly in their midst (and not the new girl as she smells weirdly like a vampire/Jasper and certainly not like this).

He doesn't see anyone.

His mind is now racing as god--that scent is divine. Despite himself, he finds himself thinking of everyone at school. Is he sure someone doesn't smell like that? Perhaps it's someone in the senior classes, that Edward has never been close enough to smell before and this was here this whole time and Edward simply never noticed.

Except, he sits with his family every day, he would have noticed even the distant scent clinging to their clothing were that the case. More, it's so strong right now, as if she's standing there with his family.

Ten minutes pass with Edward staring at his family.

Then Edward realizes.

Alice has been worried about Jasper eating someone all day. Jasper's eyes are black, somehow, and his clothes are clean but the only way this scent is this strong is Jasper fucking ate a student.

(And with a scent like that, Edward can't blame him, he might have eaten them too.)

Edward inwardly sighs and decides he's noble enough not to say anything. Though, riding home will be very uncomfortable. Alice can and should do that (what a trooper), and he can see Rosalie being pig headed enough to pretend she's fine.

Edward, however, will not suffer.

Edward tells his confused family that he'll be walking home, thanks.

The family stares, the fuck's up with him? They then shrug and go home.

Well, they get home and the scents still there. And it's definitely clinging to Jasper. Edward gives him a death glare, politely coughs, and asks if Jasper wouldn't like to take a shower?

Jasper in turn stares, feeling the hostility and disapproval wafting off Edward.

He has no idea what Edward's on about but... well... easier to just do it.

Jasper goes to shower and Edward waits for somebody in the family to mention something. Nobody does, Edward wonders if Alice is waiting for Carlisle to come home before making drama. He suppose he understands that.

He does still wonder about how Jasper's eyes are black, though. Did he store the blood for later? A scent like that and it had to be very fresh, but Edward can't imagine he'd have the control or motive to not give in if he lost his control.

Then Jasper exits his shower and... smells the same. Just slightly wetter.

Now, Edward's alarmed.

He won't ask Rosalie, he can't, but he asks Emmett if Jasper doesn't smell a little... strange.

Emmett has no idea what he's on about.

"Like a really delicious human," Edward said, "The most captivating you've ever encountered."

Nope, Jasper sure doesn't smell like that.

Edward realizes this must be the case as his family's acting like they're not smelling it at all. And the scent is strong, extremely strong, and nobody's thoughts are even considering it.

Edward starts... to feel strange.

He decides to leave the house for the night to clear his head. As this is relatively normal Edward behavior, the family doesn't think much on it.

Edward, outside, smells normal things. Everything smells the same except for Jasper who smells--god, why does he smell like that? It will drive Edward mad.

That morning, Edward returns in time for school, and sighs out when Jasper smells just the same. Clearing his head didn't work. This will be... hard.

Edward decides to hold his breath until he can leave Jasper's company. Otherwise, he just might attempt to eat Jasper even though he knows Jasper will taste nothing like what he smells.

This is the routine Edward follows for several weeks.

He spends as little time with Jasper as possible and when in his presence holds his breath. He tries to adjust by smelling Jasper's things in the house (Alice decides to say nothing and tries to justify this to Jasper who wants to know why Edward's scent is all over his things) and as in Twilight comes to believe that he can do this, it's a case of mind over matter, or in Edward's case mind over mind as Jasper does not smell like this.

Bella's hit by a van in a parking lot and the Cullens book it when Alice has her vision rather than Edward saving her.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #jasper whitlock #bella swan #meta #headcanon #opinion

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cyncerity · 2 years ago

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i have no self control so i finished it today

here’s chapter 1 out of idfk! I vehemently refuse to plan things in advance beyond just various scenes I want to happen :D

I’m actually super excited for this one and really proud of it so I hope y’all like it as much as I do!

tw: parental neglect ig this is different from what I normally write

“Honestly, Wilbur, house arrest?!” His mother scolded him. Wilbur sighed and dropped his bags at the door, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes, pointedly looking away from his mom. “I don’t hear from you in years and I suddenly get a random call that says you’re getting dumped at my house because you’ve been put under house arrest??” “I know, I’m sorry mum-“ “Were you just planning to drop off the face of the earth? Would you have just never come back here if you weren’t arrested? What were you arrested for? Why wouldn’t they just drop you off at your house? You’re an adult-“ “That’s pretty simple, I don’t have one.” “Wilbur!!”

Wilbur walked over to the couch and dropped himself on it, head in his hands. He could feel his mother’s eyes on him, staring and trying to take in how much he’d changed. He couldn’t blame her. He’d left when he was 18 to pursue music, and look at where that got him. Homeless, lonely, and arrested, the court ordered anklet digging uncomfortably into his skin at a measly 21 years old. He was a mess. An exhausted, hopeless mess.

He heard quiet footsteps as his mother came to sit next to him, and a warm arm laid over his shoulder. “You know I love you. I don’t care that you were arrested, or why you were, I really don’t. But…why didn’t you come home? I’ll always be here to help you, you know that, right? Did I…did I do something wrong?” “No!” Wilbur quickly said, head still in his hands. “No, you’re a wonderful mother, i’m just a terrible son. I..I don’t know why I didn’t come home, I’m sorry, but it’s not your fault.” His mother sighed and pulled him closer, and he relished in the comfortable silence. It had been so long since he had felt like anyone around him actually cared, and yet his mothers patience and love for him was seemingly endless, even now, even for a horrible fuck up son like him. He didn’t deserve her. If he was being honest with himself, that’s why he didn’t come back home to her when times got tough for him. Why should she have to deal with him? It wasn’t her fault that he turned out a wreck, she did the best she could as a single mother, even putting aside her passions while she put her whole focus into him.

Speaking of that, since he left, she certainly seemed to pick her interests back up, if the messy house was any indication. Or maybe messy wasn’t the right word, maybe so trashed and horder-like that it was hard to believe anyone actually lived here. Wilbur looked up from his hands to fully take in the mess that completely covered the main floor of the house. Walls were covered in taped up drawings of creatures of all kind, floors covered in similar scribbles and notes. There were some cabinets with small observation cases full of taxidermic bugs and what looked to be small…weapons? Saddles?

Well, her collection had definitely grown in the past few years.

“I see your hobby has been going well.” Wilbur said, trying to deflect the situation. Luckily for him, he knew his mother. And if there was anything that could distract her, it was asking her about her odd fascination with all things tiny. “Oh! Yeah, I forgot it’s been a while since you’ve been here. My collection had grown…a fair bit. I haven’t touched your room, though! It’s the same as it’s been, things have just been…messier.” She said, getting up to show him around. He chuckled softly as he watched her make her way around the room, carefully avoiding the piles and piles of documents scattered around the floor. She stopped at a wall of computers, pointing up at them. “I’m close, though. I have cameras set up all over the forest, and I don’t think they’ve noticed them…yet. They’re fast, but I think I have some arguable proof.”

His mother leaned over the keyboard, frantically searching for whatever new clip she had. Wilbur smiled. He couldn’t say he actually believed in any of it, despite what she had taught him growing up. Of course the idea was fun, but the older he got, the harder it was to suspend his disbelief that there may be tiny people living in the forest. How his mom kept that childlike faith in her beliefs despite the lack of proof for years and years he couldn’t know, but he was happy for her. She had something to put her heart into and believe in, and Wilbur had forgotten what that was like after music had proven to be a bust.

He snapped back to the screen as his mom made an excited noise and leaned back to point at the screen. “See! There!” Wilbur looked for a moment before taking a few very careful steps around her findings and towards the screen. It was a blurry freeze frame; one smaller brown and reddish bird, one small brown-ish spec, and a much larger black blur that seemed almost iridescent. A couple of birds and a bug, probably, the finch looking one in the lead and the large black bird and bug close behind. “Mom I’m sorry, but…what evidence am I supposed to be seeing in a bird chase?” “That’s a raven,” she pointed to the black bird, “that bird is most likely a common redpoll, and judging from the wing color and shape that’s probably a bee. But here’s the thing!” She swung back to Wilbur, an excited, manic look in her eye. And people wondered where he got his crazy from. Certainly wasn’t his father, he never knew the bastard. “The bee is out of the Ravens sight, so it isn’t chasing a food source.” She continued. “Ravens don’t go after other bird species, either, and there’s no reason a bee would chase a potential predator. But look here,” she pointed back to the screen and Wilbur leaned closer, the fuzz of the old tv brushing against his face. “you see it?”

Looking where she was pointing, there were a few thin brown straps on the bird, and a small blurry green and slightly yellow blob on its back. The raven had a spot on it where the black wasn’t as iridescent, where it looked like something was wrapped around it. It also had something on it’s back; a greyish blob with more hints of brown and black and also white, weirdly enough. And looking at the bee, it also looked like it was missing a few legs, and was built strangely, along with having something green on it. He looked back to his mom, who looked more proud of herself than he’d seen her be in years. He was sure everything on screen had a logical explanation, but who was he to break his poor mother’s heart?

“That’s great! That’s really, really amazing mom.” He said as she squealed and hugged him. “I knew you would think so!” she leaned back, hands still on his arms as she made eye contact with him and sighed. “Fuck, here I am rambling when you’ve still got settling in to do. Let’s get your bags and head upstairs, yeah? Your old room is waiting for you, and who knows how long it’s been since you slept in a bed, you impossible child.” She said, letting go and grabbing his two measly bags and guitar case. Wilbur rolled his eyes and took his guitar case from her, given that it was the heaviest. “Hey, I’m not impossible, I’m stubborn, and I get that from you, y’know.” He heard his mom mockingly repeat him and scoff from the top of the steps, and he laughed. God, he’d missed her.

~~~

“I swear to fucking god!” Phil yelled, storming his way through his castle, Techno walking quickly behind, struggling to keep pace. “I need him for one thing and he just fucking disappears! It’s a miracle I haven’t strangled that child with my bare hands.” He stopped momentarily to command more guards to triple check Tommy’s room, and Techno finally managed to catch up, panting slightly. “You know this isn’t unlike him, Phil. He likes to do his own thing, wonder where he gets that from.” “I get that he’s too much like me for his own good, but at least I was always able to take account of myself and get my shit done.” Phil responded with venom in his tone. “He’s irresponsible, he’s brash, he’s rude, I don’t know how he ended up like this or what I could have done better for him.” “I’d respond but I’m assuming that was rhetorical…” he muttered under his breath. “What was that, Techno?” “Nothing, your majesty.”

Phil continued his walk and ended up out of the palace, the sky above them turning a dark grey and a low rumble of thunder cracking through the silence. Phil, however, seemed undeterred, ending up by his stable, his trusty crow waiting for him. He pet the bird’s beak gestured to a few more guards. “Get Brian saddled, I’m heading out for a bit.” “Do you really think this is necessary?” “You forget, Techno, Tommy thinks he’s so smart, but I’m his father. He’s the teenager and I’m the adult; I’m always a step ahead.” He said, holding up his necklace. A chunky green emerald swung from a thin leather rope, identical to one that Tommy wore every day. “I thought that was to help Tommy with his magic?” “It is…mostly,” Phil said, dropping the necklace back down to his chest. “It has a lot of magic stored in it, Tommy’s does, too. His is a chip off from mine, after all. In a pinch, though, it can be used to track. As long as Tommy is wearing his, I can get him to me. If I was truly in a desperate situation, I could call Tommy to me right now. But as it stands, that takes far too much of the necklace’s power, and he just needs to learn a lesson about refusing his duties and disobeying his father.” “It’s a magic session, Phil, he practices all the time, it can’t be that much of a deal. Besides, there’s a storm coming, this isn’t a good idea.” “He’s been blowing them off for 2 months,” Phil said, straddling his bird, Brian cooing softly. “And he knows that I’m rarely ever free for them, he needs to take this more seriously if he’s going to lead. Besides, if he’s still not home before the storm starts, that’s all the more reason to find him before he lets himself get hurt.”

“Phil-“ “I’ll be ok, I promise, mate.” Phil said, eyes softening as he leaned down to his right hand man. “I’ve never lied to you before have I?” “…no, sir.” Techno said, defeated. “Have a safe flight, I’ll see you home soon. If you don’t come back with Tommy by nightfall I’m coming to find you myself.” “Relax, I‘ll be fine. I run this goddamn forest, remember?” And with that, Phil was off, Brian taking off like a shot off the stable’s branch.

Techno couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his gut as he watched Phil shrink into the distance.

~~~

Wilbur was settling in as well as he thought he would be. One thing he’d grown to hate in his short amount of time at his old house was his court ordered punishment. Other than the ankle monitor, he had to do “community service.” Of course, the court hadn’t known at the time that there was literally no community to service for miles and miles at his house, and he didn’t have a license anymore (you do donuts on a private frozen lake one time) (ok maybe 6 but that guy was an asshole). So his “community service” consisted of cleaning up the forest; turns out that the one and only road near the forest was a pretty popular spot for passerby’s to toss trash. Most of his afternoons were spent along the side of a mostly undisturbed road that had way more trash that it logically should for how new the road seemed; he doubted anyone other than the jail car he’d been driven down in had been on the road for months.

Still, he donned the eye-sore yellow “hey! i’ve been to jail and i’m serving my sentence to community!” vest and grabbed a beanie and fingerless gloves. It was spring, but under all the overhang of the trees he knew it’d feel cooler than it was, which he accounted for when he put on a yellow flannel sweater and thick slightly dirty and ripped jeans, ones he wouldn’t mind getting dirty since he was going to be kneeling on the dirt. One step onto his porch told him it was also definitely gonna storm, the sky growing dark and that spring-time smell of rain filling his senses. He decided to lace up heavy steel toed and already worn and muddied work boots and threw a thick grey hooded t-shirt on for good measure under the vest in case it (or more like when it) rained. He wished he had better than a simple hood, but he didn’t know where the umbrellas were. He’d love to ask his mother, but she had already head out that morning to double check that her cameras wouldn’t be damaged by the rain.

He hoped she just got out before the storm.

~~~

Phil flew faster as the wind started to pick up and the thunder grew louder. Brian was sturdy, and above all else fast, but Phil knew his bird’s limits. He was getting tired, and Phil wasn’t any closer to Tommy somehow. He wished his stupid crystal could work better, but it was really a game of hot or cold until he got close enough to Tommy that the shard gave him some magic feeling that his son was close by and could lead him from there. It was stupid and time consuming, but he couldn’t risk just calling Tommy to him. Turns out he probably should have listened to Techno; this storm was shaping up to be a big one, and he knew he’d need the extra magic his necklace provided in order to repair whatever damage the rain caused to his forest.

He ended up near the tar strip through the middle of his forest (the damn humans put it there years ago, and though their cursed machines came through the forest sometimes, those instances were few and far between, thankfully)(still, fuck those humans). He may hate it, but it ran through the forest somewhat evenly, so he’d be able to hopefully sense at least what side of it Tommy was on if he just went down the middle.

The storm was getting heavier, but he couldn’t give up now. There was no sign of Tommy. Phil realized at some point that his concern had shifted from “i have to teach him a lesson about wasting my time” to “oh god where is my son is he ok.” He wasn’t surprised though, really. He did truly, really care about his son, even if Tommy didn’t think so. If he had all the time in the world, he’d spend it with him, he would. But he can’t. He’d wanted to be the one to teach Tom to read, to watch his first steps, to see him grow into the young man he was now. But he hadn’t. Tommy had been raised by royal staff who’s names Phil had never cared to know. He’d been there to hear Tommy’s first word, though, but he wished it would have been under better circumstances.

It had been “Tech,” and he’d said it while witnessing one of the most brutal and gut-wrenching arguments he’d ever had with Technoblade, out of the few they’ve fought. He’d learned that Techno was skipping his guard duties in secret to spend time with Tommy. And he’d been outraged, for some reason. He’d burst into a room where Techno was telling a harmless tale to a baby Tommy and screamed at him for neglecting his duty and fooling off instead. Tommy had people to be there for him, and Phil had never cleared Techno to be one of them. Techno argued that Tommy needed someone who cared about him, not just people who were rewarded for giving him food and attention. He needed people who wanted him, and Phil clearly didn’t. It’d stung like a knife to the chest at the time, but he knew where Techno was coming from now.

The fight grew worse and worse for minutes before he’d heard the desperation in Tommy’s infant babble. They were silenced as tears rolled down his chubby infant cheeks when he realized someone who he cared about was so upset, calling out to the only person who’d ever shown him voluntary affection. And it hadn’t been Phil. It wasn’t his father, it was his father’s guard and friend. Even now, though Tommy didn’t associate with Techno as much anymore since he was always with Phil, Tommy loved Techno more than Phil. And Phil would never resent Techno for that. He trusted Techno with his life, and if Tommy had to look up to someone other than Phil, he was glad it was his most trusted confidant, but he couldn’t stop it from hurting.

His kingdom thrived, his people were happy, and his son hated him. It was just a fact of his life, at this point. Even when Phil did his best to reconnect with Tommy when he was younger, when he was finally becoming his own person, it all went downhill. They’d been the closest they’d ever been for those few years, but it all plummeted in one conversation, and Tommy never saw him the same again after that.

All he could hope is that someday, when Tommy is king, he’ll see how hard it is, and know that his dad did his best to keep him safe and happy.

~~~

Wilbur sighed as he pulled his hood farther over his head to keep his glasses from getting wet as rain started down. Yup, he’d been right. Definitely rain. Should’ve worn contacts. Damn, and he’d just started down the road, it’d be hours till he was done for the day. Still, he sighed and picked up packets of chips and broken beer bottles with his cold slippery metal trash-grabber-thing and shoved them into a garbage bag.

Unfortunately, things only got worse the longer he was out there. He’d made it fairly deep into the woods at that point, but the rain pounded onto him like hail and thunder roared around him. He just honest to god wanted to go home and sit with a cup of tea and listen to his mom ramble about whatever new thing she’d seen in woods. But lucky him, his ankle shackle tracked his movements. He was only allowed to be in the house and a little ways into the front or backyard during the day. During his torture hours (that’s what he liked to call his court ordered punishments), he was not allowed to be in the house. Instead, he had to remain on the road and somewhat into the woods for his designated amount of hours or else he’d get a couple of very stern police officers at the front door telling his mother that he was on thin ice and to do what he was ordered to unless he wanted jail time. He did not, thank you very much.

He flinched as lightning struck a tree a ways behind him. Holy shit, this was actually getting pretty bad. Was his mom still out here? Had she gone home when the rain started? God, he hoped so. But all he could do for now was pick shit up and wait it out.

It wouldn’t be that long till he got home.

~~~

Phil panted, barely able to breathe through his panic as he pushed Brian to go faster. Rain started to pound on him, but he didn’t care. He was becoming frenzied. Oh god, where was Tommy? Was he hurt? Was he back at the castle, having heard the thunder and realizing that it was stupid to be out on his own? Brian softly chittered beneath him, but he could barely process it. Phil had to find Tommy. He just had to. He couldn’t leave his little boy out here alone, cold, scared…

Phil yelped as Brian swerved out of his control, landing on a nearby tree branch that only somewhat shielded them from the storm. “Brian, wh-“ He heard a soft coo and only then felt minute quivering beneath him. He reached out a hand and felt his wings, which were shaking badly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, buddy, you’re probably pretty tired, huh…” He said, getting off the crow and petting his head. Brian pressed his head lightly into Phil’s hand as a response, and Phil reached over to his saddle and pulled out some berries and a water pouch, holding them out in front of Brian. He immediately perked up and opened his beak a little bit, enough for Phil to drop the food and pour water in. Brian cooed and nestled down onto the branch a bit more. Phil sighed and sat down next to him; seemed like they wouldn’t be moving for a little while.

They sat in silence for a while, Phil listening to the raid patter violently on the leaves above him while some stray droplets broke through and struck where he sat. He tried to even his breathing and think with a level head, but to no avail. He tapped his foot anxiously with no other way to get his nervous energy out, pulling at some of the leaves on his wrists. If Techno were here, he’d tell him to stop, but as it was, Phil was left to sit with his own thoughts as the storm raged around him.

Until the worst happened.

He wasn’t sure why his mind hadn’t registered the thunder around him. Maybe he’d gotten so used to hearing it in the past few hours, maybe he just didn’t think enough of it to even process it. All he knew after the fact was that it had been so loud it made the forest around him shake and caused a violent thud in his chest, but he hadn’t heard the warning until it was too late.

The clap of lightning around him was deafening, and snapped him out of whatever anxious spell he was in. Brian practically screamed as the trunk and the branch they were sitting broke with a ear crunching snap and heat engulfed him for a moment. He felt petals burn as pain bloomed in him and felt the gust of wind as Brian lifted in the air to avoid being hit or burned, lurching his wings downwards to try and grab Phil. And as much as Phil loved Brian, he was fast, not agile.

No amount of speed could help Phil as Brian’s beak barely missed one of his remaining petals and Phil felt himself free fall towards his forest floor. Those seconds felt like a lifetime, some parts of him knowing that he could save himself if he called onto his magic, some parts reminiscing on would happen to his kingdom, his best friend, his son…

would Tommy miss him?

He closed his eyes as the muddied grass grew closer and closer. He wasn’t sure what he wanted his last thought to be, he wasn’t sure why he was worried about it, all he could do was accept his death, knowing that once he hit the cold ground the earth would reclaim him and he’d become part of the forest he’d worked so hard to lead.

Phil landed hard, but…it didn’t feel like the cold ground he was expecting. It was damp, sure, but…warm. He heard Brian screech, but shockingly heard a different noise in response. He heard a gasp from a voice he’d never heard. It was a woman, he thought, but he couldn’t focus in on anything she said after or what was going on. He was fading out quickly, but he was alive, for now at least. The ground below him moved, the warmth starting to surround him, and the rain stopped hitting him. He should have been more concerned about what was going on, but he couldn’t find it in himself to stay awake anymore.

As he faded out of consciousness, he didn’t notice the lack of the weight that normally hung from his neck.

~~~

Logically, Kristin knew she should have gotten out of the storm before it got this bad. But she’d never really been on logic’s side, why start now?

She had started to run home when the thunder got worse, though.

Her rain boots pounded heavily on the road as she sprinted back to her house. Jeez, she hoped Wilbur’s officers could cut him a break with this one. She’d lived in this forest for over a decade and this was the worst storm she’d seen in a long, long while. Wilbur was never usually one to take instructions too seriously, so she hoped he’d just given up on the minimum hours and fucked off to go home. But she knew he also didn’t want to be in jail in case the officers were as heartless as she was lead to believe, so she couldn’t really be sure.

She practically jumped out of her skin as lightning hit a tree beside her, the leaves immediately starting to burn as bits of the top broke away and fell to the forest floor. It was getting dangerous out here, she needed to go-

And she would have if a bird hadn’t screamed.

God damn her good hearted nature, it was going to get her killed one of these days.

She ran over to the tree in time to see the bird lunging down towards a broken branch, trying to reach out to somethi-

Holy fuck.

Kristin’s eyes widened as she saw something- no, someone- falling, and falling fast. Someone green, though accented with yellow and a couple white petals, though most of what she could assume were longer ones had now been burnt back.

Holy shit, it was one of them.

Kristin ran faster and practically threw herself to the ground to catch them, the little person falling into her hands just in time. Holy shit, it was a little person. Here, in her hands, was a little man. She could barely breathe as she held him closer, taking in every detail she could. They seemed to be around her age, and they looked like a guy, but who knows how their gender roles worked in their role. God, who knew how anything worked! She had so much to ask! She could barely believe it, she’d finally done it! She got one!

She was snapped out of her thoughts as the bird screamed again, frantically flapping its wings and hopping towards her. She at first assumed it had just been hunting the little guy in her hands as a food source, but she then took notice of the green leaf-made saddle on its back. Ah, so the bird belonged to the green guy, it seemed like she’d been right in her hypothesis that the tiny people rode them to get around. It hobbled closer, and her thoughts were cut off as she gasped.

She hadn’t fully realized the damage to the bird; a few of the feathers were damaged on one side, especially on it’s wing, and it’s feet were swollen, probably from the heat. Along with that, it was shaking violently and trying valiantly to get back to its rider.

She cooed as she gently picked it up with one hand, the other still holding the small guy. It tried to fight, but in its exhaustion she guessed that it couldn’t do much. “It’s ok, little birdy, I won’t hurt you,” she cooed, closing her hand around the tiny and holding him against her chest under her coat to keep him dry. He hadn’t made a move, so she could only assume he’d fainted on impact, if he even could faint. To be honest, she wasn’t even sure if he was alive, but the fact that the crow was trying to hard to get back to him gave her hope. “We’re gonna go back to my house and fix you both up.” She slowly stood, and cringed when she realized her entire front was absolutely caked in mud, but she shrugged it off.

After all, an extra load of laundry and a shower were little to pay to see her life’s dedication paid off.

She couldn’t wait to show Wilbur.

~~~

“Phil? I’m home!” Tommy yelled. Walking into the entryway of the palace he lived in, completely drenched. He hadn’t meant to be out this long, he’s just gotten so caught up with his friends that he hasn’t realized time had passed. It was hard to tell when night fell when the entire sky was dark with a storm.

He’d only gone out to help Tubbo deliver some honey, but he and Ranboo had started talking and Tubbo had more deliveries to make so Tommy and Ranboo went to the tree base and invited Tubbo to join them when he was done. Tommy would have loved to stay at Dream’s place, but in case his dad ever found out where he’d been wandering off to he wanted the Bog king to have plausible deniability. He had started showing Ranboo all the stuff Tubbo had given him after trading with boggins, and it had turned into a fun game of “I’ll give a completely batshit description for this and then you’ll tell me what it’s actually for.” One thing looked like a torture device but was used for cutting rougher letter, and another was just a hairbrush, which Ranboo was surprised Tommy had never heard of since bugfolk used them, but hey, Tommy didn’t get out much.

Tubbo came over for a minute but left when the sky grew darker, since he couldn’t fly in the rain and had to get home before the storm. Tommy only went home once the lightning started, and Henry starting chirping, and Tommy could weirdly tell how concerned she was. Him and Ranboo also agreed that the top of a really high tree was not where they wanted to be in a potential lightning storm, so they’d parted ways for the day.

But Tommy hadn’t expected the palace to be empty, practically. Man, was the storm bad enough that the staff had gone home? He wandered his halls for a bit before he heard a voice behind him. “Tommy?” He spun frantically, only to sigh when he saw Technoblade. He dramatically caught his breath and walked over to him. “Whew, you scared the shit outta me, Blade, where’s dadza?” “He’s not with you…?” That made Tommy pause. “Nooo…should he be?” Tommy asked apprehensively, but Techno looked absolutely panicked. “He…he went out looking for you earlier. Like, this morning. You didn’t show up for your lesson with him and he said something about wasting his time and flew off with Brian. They haven’t been back.”

“…what?” His dad had gone out…looking for him? Wasn’t he more concerned about the storm? The forest? Why was Tommy the concern there? His dad rarely gave a flying fuck when he missed their lessons, why did he have to pick today of all days to throw a hissy fit and run after him? “Oh god, ok…how..how do we find him?” “I have no idea.” Techno answered, as blatantly honest as usual, but the stoic look having been replaced with fear. They both stood in silence for a moment before Techno put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Ok, I’m going to go looking for him. You’re gonna stay here and see if you can bring him back.” What? “But how am I-“

Techno reached to the emerald around Tommy’s neck, held by a thin leather strap, the same as his father’s. Pretty much the only tying them to each anymore. “Phil explained earlier that your crystals are connected. He went out looking for you knowing that the necklace would signal him when you were close by. He also said that if need be, there’s some magic property that can call one crystal to the other, since they’re just pieces of each other. He didn’t earlier since it would have taken too much power and he didn’t know how bad the storm would get, but I think we’re to that point. I don’t know shit about magic, but according to him, you should be able to use the crystal to summon him here.”

Tommy stared wide eyes at him for a moment. “I- i don’t know how to do that…I can’t-” “It’s alright, you can do it, I know you can. If if you can’t, I’ll keep looking until I find him. It’ll all be ok.” Techno said, leaning Tommy into a hug. God, this must be serious, Techno was never this emotional. “O-ok, I’ll do my best.” Techno leaned back, smiling at Tommy before clapping him on the shoulders. “You’re a good kid, Tommy. I’ll be back.” He said, walking off. He hoped Techno would be ok. The storm had been getting progressively better little by little, but it was still pretty harsh.

Tommy went up to his room and sat on the floor. Ok, so he was basically trying to learn teleportation, no biggie, just…teleport someone. Yeah, he could do that. He bring Phil back and he’d yell at Tommy for missing another lesson and he’d yell back that it was how he felt when his dad missed his entire childhood and inevitably someone would bring up mom, god forbid, and it’d end with two slammed doors like it had at least three other times that week. Great, he was so looking forward to that.

…why was he doing this again?

Tommy groaned and hit the heel of his hand against his head. His dad may be a bigoted asshole to his two best friends and a shitty father on the best of days, but he didn’t deserve to die in a lightning storm. His heart clenched at the idea that he may be too late, that he’d never see his father again and it would have been his fault since he didn’t go to that stupid magic lecture earlier.

He tried to convince himself that it was only because he didn’t want the weight of his father’s death on his shoulders. That the sore feeling in his chest was annoyance and minor guilt. He didn’t miss his dad, he didn’t care about him at all anymore.

He didn’t.

Tommy breathed in and out deeply, closing his eyes and taking the emerald off his neck, clutching it tightly in his hands. He could feel the magic practically emanating from it, and did his best to find a similar power. His dad said when he needed to do more intense magic, he used the stone to feel out the life force in the forest that needed help. He’d taken Tommy to a cracked tree once and it had taken a while, but he’d managed to ground himself enough that he felt with the tree, and used his and the stones magic to redirect energy into it and heal it. He imagined the sensation would be something like that. If he could feel specific individual forces of nature, he could feel out a magic gemstone. He could do it.

As he started to concentrate more, and as he felt his own forces spread from himself to the walls of his room and his home and the whole forest around him, the stone started to glow.

~~~

Fucking. Finally.

The storm had…somewhat slowed down. Enough that Wilbur wasn’t getting even more soaked on his way home. Though, to be fair, he felt like he would never be dry again, he was soaked to the bone.

He walked down one side of the street under the branches. Since the storm had let up, the sun had come back with a vengeance and he was wearing very thick and warm clothes. He was already drenched, he didn’t want to add sweat to that.

To give himself credit where it was due, though, walking back, the road looked a whole lot cleaner than it had previously. It may not have justified hauling his giant-ass heavy trash bag all the way back to his house, but at least he was doing something.

After what felt like hours of walking back down the road he’d come up from (he knew it was only a few minutes but he’d been picking up trash in a thunderstorm all fucking day he was exhausted) he came upon the tree from earlier that had been struck by lightning. And shit did it look bad. He couldn’t help his curiosity as he stepped closer, observing the damage up close. The top looked like it had been on fire, all burnt and blackened, but even more confusing was the large section of land right in front of where he was standing where the grass had been shoved forward and it was nothing but a slick patch of mud. It looked like the dirt on a baseball field when a catches had to slide across the ground to get the ball.

As his attention was on the ground, though, something flashed in the dim light that shone through the trees. What in the world was that?

Maybe he’d missed a piece of trash, who knows how far into the woods people can chunk things from their car. He leaned down to get a better look at it, and saw that it was shiny and a dark, deep green. Ugh, another piece of a goddamn beer bottle that someone shattered against something. Though, this one didn’t look like the large smooth but sharp edged pieces he’d picked up like a hundred of. Something was odd, so he dropped his grabber and bag to examine it more closely.

None of it was smooth; it looked somehow natural. It was think and rough, but not sharp, not polished and thin and clear like he’d seen. Maybe it could be a rock? It also had a weird brown strap attached to it, each side of the rope having scorch marks on the end. Wilbur guessed that the fire had split the strap holding the stone on. Maybe it had been…a ring? Who uses a thin flimsy leather band as a ring? He also didn’t know who would have been in the forest to lose a ring, other than his mother. Maybe he should bring this home and ask her, and if it’s not hers, can’t hurt to see what the stone is and how much it could be worth. A little extra money never hurt.

As he looked at it more closely, he realized it was greener than he originally thought. It was brighter, almost. Had the sun started hitting it differently? He held it up to a patch of sunlight, and watched in awe as it looked like it almost started to glow. Woah, maybe he could get some serious cash for this thing after all. But as he brought it back down from the light…it was still glowing. Like, actually glowing. And it was getting brighter and brighter.

He confusedly wrapped his hands around it, peeking in to see if it was still somehow just a trick of the light or if it was glowing. He saw a trickle of green light breaking through the cracks in his intertwined fingers, but when he went to peer in closer, something happened. His hand jerked in the exact wrong direction, smacking him clean in the face and right against the left side of his glasses, shoving them hard enough that he heard a crack. Before he could be too confused about that, though, his hands were suddenly yanked forward, enough to trio him off his feet, but…

He was still upright. There wasn’t any weight on his legs, but he was upright. He looked back up to his hands and saw the glow getting brighter and brighter still, to the point it was almost shining through his hands.

His blood turned cold and pure fear flooded his body as he felt himself get lifter up higher. He frantically tried to let go of the stone, putting all his effort into ripping his hands away, but nothing. He felt tears drip down his face, he wasn’t sure when he started crying, but he paid it no mind. It swung him around again, almost slamming him into a tree. He tried to push away but he was like a ragdoll to this thing. It felt like he was in the tornado scene of the Wizard of Oz.

“Help!” He screamed, his muscles starting to get sore from the useless strain of trying to free himself. “Fuck, Help me!” Nothing moved. His hands stayed firmly stuck around the crystal. “Someone!” He started to feel nauseous, and he felt himself shaking from the fear. “Anyone?!” The world around him started to morph as the edges of his visions turned green. “Mom!!” And suddenly he was gone.

~~~

A green flash filled Tommy’s room as he shot up from where he’d been sitting. Holy fuck, he did it. He did it, he actually managed to do it!! He ran to the figure as the magic began to clear only to stop dead in his tracks, his face falling.

Something stood in front of him. Not his father, not even a leafman, but something.

He wore clothes that were somewhat reminiscent of Ranboo’s, but they were more…patterned. It was weird material, and it’s not like Tommy knew many people who actually wore clothes, but he’d never seen anything like it. The man was also a weird color, not green like him or any shade of grey like a boggin. He was tall, taller than Tommy, but still dwarfed under most boggins. Maybe he was a bugfolk? But he looked too squishy. He didn’t have the hard chitin that Tubbo had, his skin looked like it felt more Like Ranboo’s but without the spikes.

His thoughts halted as he noticed that the man hadn’t even seen him yet. He’d taken a second to look around, but he was just staring at the emerald in his hands-

The emerald.

That was his dad’s emerald.

Tommy went to take a step closer, the dead silence in the room broken for just a second by his footstep. The man’s head snapped up and he just as quickly fell over, mouth agape and breathing heavily. It was only then that Tommy realized he was also shaking like a leaf.

They both just stared at each other for a minute, neither making a move. Tommy’s confusion slowly warping to anger and the other creature’s morphing into fear and apprehension.

“Why the fuck do you have that?!”

“What the fuck are you?!”

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selfproclaimedunicorn · 11 months ago

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5. Has your OC always had the same opinion of themselves or has this changed over time? Have they learned to love themselves - perhaps with the help of others - as their journey progressed? Or have the consequences of their actions only served to erode their sense of self-worth? for Aemon

You know what, this is sort of perfect for him, because a lot of his character arc is about this & this ask gives me a chance to really think about it.

Minor spoilers for Chapter 13 (I've already alluded to them, but I'm noting it anyway) & beyond are below the cut.

When we first meet Aemon as a sentient character in Chapter 11/"Be Not A Bed Of Roses," he doesn't have the most developed sense of who he is, because he's 5, but he trusts the world & the people in it & thinks well about himself because he's never been given a reason not to. He "knows" how his life is going to go with all the confidence of a child who has been loved & nurtured, & who has an older sister he looks up to that has given him a tangible goal that she herself accomplished. He's not always sure of himself, because again, five-years-old, but those fears are, generally, other people's problems & have nothing to do with how he sees himself. He maintains this throughout Chapter 12/"In The Name Of The Mother, In The Name Of The Father," as well because not a lot different happens to him.

In Chapter 13 (tentatively 2 halves, we'll see what it starts looking like when I get to writing) things get to be a different story. He was the only one there when his mom died, he saw what happened & he was powerless to stop what was going on because he was 6 & was too physically weak to do anything, & because he hadn't claimed Silverwing at that point. There was, quite literally, nothing he could have done to stop what was going on, & he blacks out before going largely non-verbal for a good month-and-a-half. He doesn't necessarily blame himself for what happened, not fully anyway. He definitely lays blame at Daemon's feet because, well, he's who did it. But Aemon does think he should have been able to do something: if he was big & strong like Ser Gerold & Ser Gunthor he could have stopped his dad, if he had claimed Silverwing earlier he could have stopped his dad. Just a lot of really heavy stuff that he lays on himself even though he's really young, that he sort of buckles under the weight of for a while & lets control a lot of things that happen once he's sent to be fostered in The North.

It takes a really long time for him to recover from actively thinking about how he could have/should have done something, & from how badly he views his response to the direct & quite frankly dark trauma of witnessing his mom's murder. Truthfully, a lot of it doesn't every really leave him: he trains ridiculously hard to get Big And Strong because he doesn't want to ever be in a situation where he can't protect someone ever again, he hates how he clams up and reverts to how he was when the trauma was fresh if he's put in a situation that makes him confront Daemon is a real person who exists, he dislikes how his reaction made him isolated from other people because it made him weird (& that fuels a lot of his closeness with Helaena later on once they meet).

His siblings & their spouses all help on some level, by going to visit him while he's fostering most times he asks & constantly writing him & showing him lots of attentive care that reinforces that they still love him & don't blame him for anything because he was a literal child & that he was sent away to help everyone/not just to get him out of the way. A lot of the work gets done by the House fostering him (don't want to necessarily spoil where he goes since I'm already spilling some of his emotional arc, lol), because they're who he's around all the time & reassure him & put in a lot of the Ye Olde Therapy work. Also, ngl, his boyfriend does a lot of the helping. His Non-Relative-Bestie/Foster Brother/Lover (Aemon is going full Fucky Targ Relationship Dynamics lmao) is his manic pixie dream boy toy who helps Aemon do a lot of inner work to get okay with things by being a stable, supportive presence in his life who sees all of/the worst of him & never gets scared away.

So by the time Aemon gets back to Runestone once he's 16, I'm not gonna say he's back to where he was, because Kill The Boy And Let The Goth Be Born, but he's doing about as well as one can when you live in a setting/time period where therapy doesn't exist. He sees himself in a way better & healthier way. None of the negativity ever leaves him, because what he saw just irrevocably altered him, how could it not? He gets to thinking about himself positively though, & once he's back home & starts growing up he keeps making little bits of progress until he's got a good view of himself a good 85-90% of the time/really needs a dark moment to get in a bad Self Image place again.

#ocs #oc: aemon royce #sotf commentary

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aldbooks · 2 years ago

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IDK if you do random prompts but could you do one where Azriel challenges Lucien to a blood duel (Elain doesn't want it/doesn't know about it) and Lucien is like nah, why would I fight a blood duel for someone who doesn't talk to me and peaces out of the NC, etc and then Elain realizes she should've given Lucien a chance and maybe goes after him?

sorry, that was long and a giant mess but I love your one shots and I just had to ask!

Honestly I’d been wanting to write something like this. I have a very rough draft I never published in my cloud somewhere but in that one Lucien’s forced into it and basically everyone and their brother gets involved it’s very messy 😂

Truth be told, I've tried multiple times to write this prompt, and each draft inevitably began to spiral out of control. This is the first somewhat coherent one I've been able to manage

---

His distracted thoughts were the only thing Lucien could blame for not noticing what he was walking into. For not sensing her, for not smelling them together as he rounded the corner in the garden and found Elain and Azriel tucked behind a vine covered wall, hidden from view of the house. There was no pretending he didn't know what was going on with them any longer. It was far too late to turn around and walk in another direction, letting them continue on with their clandestine meetings, thinking he was none the wiser. Not when he was confronted with the scene before him now.

Elain, for her part, blushed crimson and tried to push away but Azriel did not release his hold on her as he turned a cold glare on Lucien for interrupting them. Judging by the redness around her lips and the tousled state of her curls, it didn't take much to determine just how ardent they'd been just a moment before.

The pain of seeing it for himself, rather than simply knowing it was happening, was much sharper than he expected but he kept his face passive as he awaited the inevitable confrontation. Turning away now would make him seem a coward and he refused to be that.

"My lady," he said, nodding to his mate and then the Shadowsinger. "Azriel."

The male bristled at the use of his name rather than title. A bit juvenile perhaps but was he not allowed to be at least a little bit petty, given the situation?

"Enjoying the fine weather?" he asked, briefly eyeing the sunny skies of early summer that were now leaning towards evening. Elain clung to Azriel now, her face a mask of terror. Wether she expected him to attack her or him, Lucien wasn't sure but he had to swallow down a disgusted scoff at the insinuation that he would resort to violence at all, like some uncivilized brute. That might be how her lover preferred to handle things, but Lucien preferred a more- tactful approach.

"What are you doing here, Vanserra?" Azriel growled, pushing Elain behind him as though he too expected a fight.

Lucien fought a flinch at the use of his surname as well as the urge to roll his eyes at such dramatics. He was furious, sure; humiliated, most definitely, but he was a courtier. He fought with words, not fists. The fact that even the much lauded Spymaster did not seem to realize this was almost laughable.

"I was just delivering my latest report to Rhysand and Feyre. They invited me to stay for dinner. I thought to take a stroll through the gardens until then. I had not realized it was occupied," he said dryly as though he were unaffected by finding them here.

"Yes," Azriel replied cooly. "I'm sure you did expect to find the gardens empty of their usual inhabitant." His tone clearly conveyed his skepticism that Lucien had not come out here specifically seeking his mate who was well known to spend most of her time toiling away in the flower beds.

He did not point out that the gardens were certainly big enough for them both to avoid each other should they wish. He also did not point out that while he may have been too distracted to not note their location, so too had they. Though, Lucien was a bit surprised his shadows had not alerted him to his approach. He tried not to stare at them, though his mechanical eyes tracked their agitated movements.

Then again, perhaps they had warned him and he'd simply chosen to do nothing. Perhaps he'd even wanted to get caught. He certainly seem to be all that surprised or embarrassed at having been found out.

Just for that reason, Lucien would not give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait. He smiled blandly. "Given the late hour, I thought it safe to assume everyone indoors. I know ladies prefer to avoid too much sun." At this, he flicked a glance at the freckles scattered along the bridge of Elain's nose that had not been there when he'd last seen her.

"If you'll excuse me," he said, bowing his head slightly. "Since this particular path seems to be crowded, I'll choose another."

He turned his back on them, knowing it would piss the Shadowsinger off to be dismissed and had barely taken two steps when a low, menacing voice said- "release her."

Against his better judgment, Lucien paused and slowly turned back around, eying the male impassively. "I beg your pardon?"

"Release her," he repeated.

Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly. "You know perfectly well, Spymaster that it is not within my power to do so. If the lady does not wish to be bound to me, then she may reject the bond herself, as I'm sure she has been told by now. And in any event, I have made no claim on her, she is free to decide what she wants for herself."

"She doesn't want you," he growled. Behind him, Elain cowered, curling into herself, her face drained of color.

"Do you presume to speak for her?" Lucien said cooly, holding the Shadowsinger's gaze in challenge.

Azriel bristled, his massive wings rustling at his back. "She is-"

"Perfectly capable of speaking her own mind," Lucien countered before the other male could finish what was sure to be a spectacular display of male pride. Elain said nothing but he did notice that she'd backed away from Azriel a step or two which gave him some satisfaction.

"She doesn't want you," he said again, his eyes growing colder with every word. "You know this, everyone knows this. She has never wanted you and never will want you. And you will never be good enough for her."

It was only years of practice in taking thinly veiled insults to his face that allowed Lucien to let this one slide over him and off his back without the slightest change in expression, but he still felt the words sliding over his skin in an oily drizzle that whispered the truth of them.

"Then she can tell me so herself." His gaze slid to Elain once more. She had backed even further away from the other male, her eyes wide, but still she said nothing.

"I challenge you." The words were snarled out through bared teeth as the Shadowsinger's body seemed to vibrate with fury.

Lucien stilled, his gaze flicking back to Azriel as something dark began to unfurl in his chest. Some long buried beast he'd almost forgotten about. "Excuse me?"

In a flash of shining metal, Lucien found himself staring down the blade of the famed Truthteller. Elain gasped loudly but Lucien did not even flinch. "I challenge you to a Blood Duel," Azriel said in a voice like death. "If you will not let her go, I will make you."

Lucien laughed. He could not help it, though the sound held no mirth whatsoever. This only seemed to make the Shadowsinger angrier. From the corner of his eye, he could see Elain glancing between them with a panicked expression. "No," he said simply.

Azriel blinked as though he had not been expecting the answer before thrusting his blade at him again. "You will accept. And you will be defeated."

Lucien laughed again, with a touch more amusement this time. "You really are arrogant, aren't you?" he said, casually brushing the notorious blade aside. "You assume that because I prefer not to fight with weapons that I do not know how to use them. Or perhaps, it is that because I chose to use my magic rarely, you think I have little of it? There is a reason my brothers thought me a threat to them. And you seem to have forgotten who trained me. I may not be an Illyrian warrior but I promise, you would not find that battle so easily won as you think."

"Then you are a coward to not accept."

He barked another laugh. "No. I am a smart male who would rather not waste his time, or deal with the fallout that would surely follow," he said disdainfully.

"I am not a barbarian. I will not hold an unwilling female to an agreement that does not exist. The bond was never accepted, she is well able to reject it and I will not force her decision either way. If she tells me she wishes me to go, then I will. I have no desire to fight to the death for a female who has no interest in me. That would be the height of folly."

Lucien flicked his gaze to Elain once more, finding her gaze locked on Azriel.

---

Elain watched in growing horror as Azriel persisted in his attempt to draw Lucien into a fight. That horror was coined by fear and disgust when Lucien revealed that this Blood Duel Azriel insisted upon was a fight to the death. It was utterly savage and she could only stare at the male she had thought of as so tender and kind, threatening to kill her mate over something she realized he had no control over.

She could reject it.

The thought swirled through her mind in a tangle of thoughts. Lucien spoke as if this knowledge should be known to her, but it was not. No one had ever told her it was even an option. She supposed it was because none of those around her could fathom rejecting one's mate. Never mind that her sisters had not exactly had easy starts with their own mates. She was quiet certain that at one point, Nesta would've been just as happy to see Cassian dead.

Azriel did not seem to give much thought of concern to the notion of rejecting a mate. Odd, considering what she knew of the esteem the fae held for such rare bonds. Neither did Lucien, for that matter, if he was able to speak about it so blithely, as though it were a given that he would simply concede should she choose not to accept him.

And that seemed even odder still.

From what she had been told, both of her sister's mates had been unrelenting in their pursuits, particularly when her sisters had been at the height of their resistance to the bond. And yet, Lucien had never displayed an ounce of the territorial aggression she had expected. A fact she was only just realizing as she watched him bat away Azriel's attempts to draw him into a fight. In fact, he continuously tried to pull her into the conversation that Azriel did not seem to deem fit for her participation. Never mind that she was the subject.

She could feel Lucien's gaze on her, but she could not peel her horrified gaze from Azriel as she began to see the layers of civility he wore like a mask, peeling away to reveal something truly terrifying. So this was the the Shadowsinger? The cruel Spymaster that everyone seemed to cower in fear of? She stared at him as though seeing him truly for the first time. She wasn't altogether sure she liked what she saw.

"Accept," Azriel demanded, growing visibly agitated by Lucien's refusal to be the slightest bit intimidated by him. Bold, really, for someone with half of Azriel's years of experience and training.

Lucien sighed, his lashes fluttering as though he wanted to roll his eyes. "First of all, only an Autumn Court male can issue a challenge, which you decidedly, are not."

"You are Beron's son-" Azriel started to argue.

"And I have not claimed my father's house in over two hundred years," fire sparked in Lucien's eyes, seeming to give even Azriel pause. "As you're well aware. Not to mention that, personally, I find the entire practice archaic and primitive. "

Azriel did not miss the insult, neither did Elain as she watched the male's wings flare wide, heedless that she was only a few feet away. Luckily she had stepped far enough away to avoid getting hit. Silently, she agreed with Lucien's assesment of the situation.

"Secondly," he continued. "Seeing as the Night Court long ago banned such duels, how do you imagine your High Lord would feel about your insistence upon, and participation in one?"

Gone was the flippant attitude Lucien had been sporting until this moment. He spoke the words with such coolness, the sharp edge of warning evident as he seemed to happen upon the one argument that finally gave Azriel pause. She could see it in the set in his jaw and the clenching of his fists. Rhysand would not like it. And Azriel hated to disappoint his brother.

If Lucien was right, and the Night Court had banned duels over disputed females, Rhysand would have to punish Azriel if he persisted in this course. He would not have a choice, not if he wished to retain the integrity of his position. She could only imagine what kind of punishment such a transgression would demand.

"Free her."

Elain tried not to sigh aloud at the relief that flooded her when he seemed to finally give up his quest. Still, she was growing tired of being spoken of as though she were not standing right here, incapable of speaking for herself.... just as Lucien had said.

"I was not aware she was trapped- at least, not by me," Lucien replied drily, looking in her direction. "I have no wish for bloodshed, and I cannot imagine that you do either." He was still looking at her as he said this. Azriel did not so much as glance sideways at her.

"You don't even want her," he snarled.

Lucien shrugged. "Then you have nothing to worry about. If you're what she wants, then bless you both. I will not stand in her way. Nor will I be drawn into any foolish battles that will only cause more harm." He turned to Elain once more. "The choice is, and always has been, yours, my lady."

With that, he bowed to her, ignoring Azriel entirely as he turned back for the main house.

Stomach roiling, and mind fairly spinning as it scrabbled to process the events of the last few minutes, Elain watched him go, feeling a tug in her chest towards him that, for once, she was not entirely sure she wished to ignore.

Beside her, Azriel's shadows swirled around him as she stormed off, apparently having forgotten she was there and what they'd been doing not five minutes ago, and took to the skies.

Elain felt power surge up within her, and the now familiar sensation of a vision taking over her senses. She surrendered to it. Before her, was a crossroads with paths leading in several directions. She turned slowly, examining each until she felt a pull towards one in particular and knew where it would lead.

For the first time since she'd been turned fae, and felt the bond snap into place, Elain realized that the choice she thought had been taken from her that day, had been there all along. Waiting.

#anon ask #ask box #prompts #elucien #elain x lucien #elain and lucien #lucien and elain #lucien x elain

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