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gaveherhearttotheliontattoo · 4 years ago

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Title: Wrong Winchester Turned Right (Part X)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 2506

Warnings: None that I know of

Prompt: So not really a prompt, I was on Pinterest and I looked up fanfiction prompts and this popped up from a user who I can’t find the account of… Anyways reader jumps on the back of who she thought was her best friend in public but ends up quickly realizing her mistake.

Note: Shoutout to my beta reader for keeping me going

(Read Part I Here, Part II Here, Part III Here, Part IV Here, Part V Here, Part VI Here, Part VII Here, Part VIII Here, Part IX Here)

Taglist: @vicmc624

“70 years?” The shock you were feeling clearly shown across your face. “But then how is she here now?” You searched your brain, the depths of your memories to try to recall if there was anything you didn’t tell them. You’d spent so much time researching, you weren’t sure it was possible that you could have messed up on a detail as large as the resurfacing of this creature.

Dean watched you pace. He didn’t think you even recognized when you stood up to start walking. “It’s okay, (Y/L/N).”

You stopped walking, when did you start doing that, and stared at Dean. You had begun to associate his use of your last name with the intimate moments you’d shared. “I can’t explain this, how is that okay?”

“(Y/N/N), it is okay. You shared what you knew and we just have to do a little more digging.” Sam watched you, he’d seen the look in your eyes several times when you reached a stopping point in a case. “Maybe we should get some food.”

“You cannot make me calm down with food me with food Samuel Winchester.”

“Look, I know you. You’re hungry, hangry even. Let’s get some food and spend a little time just thinking about what could possibly explain the return. Any holidays, anniversaries, or similarities to another creature.”

You looked between the boys. “Fine, but we need to figure this out fast before she finds someone else to ensnare.”

------

After returning to the motel room you all secured a spot and opened up your laptops to do some research. You refused to give Sam the satisfaction that he had been right about food helping you, instead you continued to glare at your screen. It was like a scavenger hunt, picking through various clues to lead you to the reasoning she could possibly be awake 70 years earlier than she should.

You started by searching holidays that fell around that time that could have impacted this arrival. You’d hoped it would be as simple as All Hallow’s Eve but the timing didn’t make sense. You searched through the holidays but the only one that caught any attention was Litha, also known as the summer solstice. It was the longest day of the year but it was also the day that indicated the dark was taking back over. Considering the creature’s nature it wouldn’t be far off but there had to be something more. You switched to anniversaries.

You researched old cases that seemed similar. Disappearances of multiple girls, bodies never found, but a trail of men left in the wake of their disappearances. You spotted the trend of years between the appearances start to dwindle. What could have changed to cause this?

Dean spoke up, breaking your train of thought. “According to legend she is supposed to appear once a year, some Scottish folklore, but Sam found something saying she’s not supposed to appear for another 70 years.”

“The American folklore mentioned that she was far more efficient when she would come out so she didn’t need to come out as much.”

“Folklore is just that boys, we need to remember that just because it’s what someone believes, it doesn’t mean it’s completely factual. Once upon a time the cases that resembled her activity were sparse but over the last 500 years it seems they’ve gotten closer and closer.”

“How did you research that far back already?” Dean stared in amazement. He drained the last of his beer, a small drop trailing down his chin.

You watch the drop of beer and your brain thinks of how nice it would be to lick it off of him. Well, that is going to be distracting. “Been doing it for a long time and I already had some prior knowledge. Her pattern is becoming more predictable though. Perhaps her investments aren’t lasting as long or the blood isn’t as rich as it used to be. Hunters do like to drink.”

Dean shared a wry glance with his brother as he popped the cap off his next beer. “Cheers to that. So, anyways, how do we know when she’s going to disappear?”

“We don’t, the dates of disappearance are the only thing that were ever inconsistent throughout time. Which is why we need to act fast.” You knew it was coming, the food break could only stall the conversation of you being used to lure her out for so long. “I say we take two days to prep and plan, and then Friday evening is the night we go through with it.”

Dean reminded himself this was the right thing to do and bunched his hands into tight fists. “What do you believe is the best course of action?”

You’d chosen the bed as your place of study but wished you were closer to Dean in this moment. You shifted your laptop to the bed and moved to the edge of Sam’s bed, close enough to rest your hands on top of Dean’s white-knuckled fists. “We go on a date.”

“A date? How will that get her attention?”

“I’ll be all dressed up and so happy to be out with you but you’ll go on and break my heart. My appearance should attract her because she has a thing for shiny objects and a mean man who deserves to die would be the icing on the cake she needs.”

“Doesn’t sound like we have to wait until Friday.” Dean adjusted, his muscles loosening at the fact that he would be with you during this scheme.

“We should wait though. Friday night is date night for most people. We need to round out the image and appearances too. Plus we can’t stop our search, especially with the interaction I had today. She’ll know we’re onto her and if we were to just go for it the next day it would look suspicious. Waiting provides us time to make it look like we are struggling, giving up, weakening.”

Dean released the fists he held and gripped your hands with his. “Weak is one thing we are not.”

“We know that, she won’t, especially if we can pull the fight off.”

Sam, who’d been patiently biding his time finally spoke up. “You two should investigate together tomorrow. You haven’t quite appeared as a couple in public and it will seem odd if the two of you just go out Friday. I’m going to take a shower while you figure out what you think you can fight about.”

You waited until the water was running, unable to pull away from Dean. You’d agreed to start something, but now the thought of ending it, even faking ending it, seemed too real too soon. “Can we pull this off?”

“Oh, I think I can manage to get upset with you about something.” Dean chuckled when you snarled. “See, we’re already ready to argue.”

“What about Sam?” Dean just stared at you, waiting for further explanation. “We could fight about Sam. I’ve been hunting and investigating with him over you so it wouldn’t be far fetched to think that there was something going on there.”

Dean flinched. “I don’t want that imagery, again.” Dean pulled you onto his lap, linking his fingers behind your back. “Does this mean we have to go shopping?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly pack going out clothes for a hunting trip.”

Dean resigned himself to the idea of spending hours looking for clothes with you, but reminded himself it was just more time he got to spend with you, something he was enjoying probably far too much. “We’re doing it together. I think it’ll help with the appearance, plus I want as much time with you before this all goes down.” Dean planted a kiss to your neck.

“It hasn’t even been three weeks that I’ve known you, the real you, but it feels like so much longer.” You hooked one arm around Dean’s neck, leaning back so you could look into his eyes. This next part wasn’t going to make him happy. “Promise me one thing, if this turns south and she lures me in, you won’t let her keep me. Trap me up until you can figure out a way to get me back or end it.” You felt yourself hit the bed before you had time to process what was happening.

“End it?” Dean was stomping the length of the room, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “We just talked about how we aren’t weak. There is no way anything is going to happen to you.” Dean stopped and looked at you. “I’m going to walk around outside for a bit, I need some space to think over the fact you want me to just end it.”

You flinched as the door slammed behind Dean. Maybe it was callous to say end it but if it was necessary so be it. To hell with him. Who did he think he was getting upset when he said he would go with the plan. To. Hell. With. Him.

You stood, prepared to just change and go to bed, but found yourself seeking out the man who continued to push your buttons.

“This is my choice!” You yelled to his shadow. “I can ask Sam to do it if you don’t think you can but I refuse to live a life with this creature where I’m luring and killing men for sport. You’re either with me or you’re not.” Satisfied you got that off your chest you turned to reenter the motel room but found yourself scooped into Dean’s arms. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t you dare ask Sam.” Dean carried you to the hood of Baby and set you down, standing between your legs. “Of course I would do it but did you think the concept would be easy for me to think about? What if I told you to end it for me if she managed to get her claws in me and I was fighting to hold on? How would you respond?”

You bristled, the thought quite unpleasant. “I get it, and I’m sorry, but it is part of the job, the life.” You leaned forward and linked your hands behind his neck, drawing him closer. “This should get her attention.”

“I’m not doing this for her attention,” Dean mumbled, dropping a featherlight kiss to your lips. “I like you, and I don’t like people lightly. Giving me time to wrap my head around losing you before we go through with this plan is probably for the best and it will probably help my anger during our faux argument.”

“It’s not going to be easy for me either. I may have been indifferent to you at first but I like you too.”

“Indifferent?” Dean chuckled. “You couldn’t have cared less about me at the start if you tried.”

“You’re wrong,” You said, recalling the day you jumped on his back. “I would say I found you annoyingly attractive but we just started off on the wrong foot.”

“Does that mean we are on the right foot?”

You answered by sealing your lips to his. You crossed your ankles behind his legs, pulling yourself as tight against him as you could. You didn’t even recognize your own behavior anymore, but you were about to put your life on the line in a way that you never had before. Not just yourself though, someone who had quickly become an important piece in your life. It should have shook you how much you cared about Dean but instead you felt comfort in his arms.

“You’ve really gotta stop thinking while I’m kissing you,” Dean interrupted your train of thoughts.

Sighing you moved your hands to cup his face. “I was just thinking about how comfortable I am in your arms.”

“Oh,” Dean said, squeezing you tighter. “Well, in that case, could you think out loud?”

“Let’s go back in before we draw too much attention to ourselves.”

Dean scooped you off the hood of the car. “Don’t wanna scratch the hood.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you didn’t scratch the hood, now put me down.”

Dean continued to carry you, dropping you on the bed, ignoring the look Sam was giving him. He turned to his duffle bag, deciding he needed to take a very long shower. He lifted the duffle bag onto his shoulder and winked at you before walking into the bathroom. He wanted you to join him but this case needed to be over before he could think about going any further with you.

He stripped out of his clothes and turned the water on, not as hot as he normally would but he needed to cool down, which would normally work if you hadn’t knocked on the door. “What?”

“I need to change.”

“Couldn’t you just ask Sammy to step outside?”

“Oh, don’t be a baby.”

Dean pictured you changing, easily done since you’d showered together just that morning. How had it only been since that morning when it felt like it had been days if not weeks since that had occurred. “(Y/L/N), you’re killing me.”

“When you first started using my last name I hated it but now I find it endearing, kind of a turn on.” You heard Dean groan, bringing a smile to your lips.

“Could you just change and go so I can get on with my shower.”

You slipped your night shirt over your head. “Right, I’m sure that’s all you need to get on with.” When Dean’s head whipped around the shower curtain to glare at you the laughter bubbled from deep within before you could stop it. “I’m going.” You walked out still laughing, catching a curious eye from a lounging Sam. “Just teasing your brother.”

You curled onto your side under the blanket, keeping room for Dean since you knew that was where he was going to sleep. You thought about how you woke up with him and the events that had transpired to his black eye, followed by the entire day you had. You were overwhelmed and the exhaustion soon took you under.

Dean attempted to get under the covers without waking you. Sam was out and the only light was from the moon shining through the curtains. He sucked in a deep breath when you rolled against him, nervous.

“What time is it?” You mumbled.

“Just close your eyes and go back to sleep.” Dean wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close so your head rested on his chest. As soon as Dean could feel your chest rising and falling at a slower rate he relaxed and felt himself begin to fall asleep. He knew the next two days were going to be long as the preparations to face the creature who inadvertently brought you together unfolded so he took the time to enjoy the feel of you in his arms. Running his fingers and up and down your arm he let the pattern lull himself to sleep.

#dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #wrong winchester turned right #sam winchester

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mrfutureboy · 3 years ago

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I would like to know when you started drawing and where your passion for fanart started 😊

Oh FUCK dude i did not see this i’m so fucking sorry this is so late 😭 damn you, tumblr, for not fucking notifying me!! Anyway buckle up this is gonna be much longer than you asked for <3

Honestly ive kinda been drawing all my life! I hope that doesnt sound dumb cuz obviously almost everyone drew pictures when they were kids, but i know that it’s been a consistent hobby for me since i was little. By the time i was in 3rd grade I was hoarding notebooks to draw in. Cuz that’s something fun about me: i had a real huge habit of drawing in things that werent sketchbooks. Through middle school and beyond I did buy/receive sketchbooks, but I started out with various kinds of notebooks. One I had from like 2nd grade was like a hardcover, stationary-type notebook that I drew cats in lol, and I have 2 velvet lisa frank notebooks from 3rd grade. In high school and college I had a really bad habit of drawing in the margins on my notes and on handouts the teacher/professor would give. Those classes where the prof just prints out all the notes beforehand and gives them to you to follow along? Oh man, I spent so many classes barely listening while I drew on them! I also used to draw on my physics homework and tests and sometimes I even got extra credit for them (thank you jeff :D). I actually have a folder of various drawings I’ve kept from that 8yr time period and a lot of them are on classwork 😂

Obviously, I’ve been doing a lot of digital art lately, which I’m sure is what u were more curious about rather than the shit about drawing on my homework. I got a surface pro as a graduation gift in 2016 bc prior to that i had a wacom tablet and a janky ass laptop, so the gift was kinda a 2-in-1: i can do schoolwork AND art easily! i like digital art a lot and honestly im still learning new things abt it every time i draw. I use Leonardo currently (i’ll skip that story) but I started out doing digital art on sketchfu WITHOUT the wacom tablet in maaaaybe 2012??? 2011??? does anyone on this site remember sketchfu? Honestly couldnt even tell u how i found that site hahah the internet was just full of wonders back in the day. RIP sketchfu. Once i got the tablet tho some time later i used sketchfu still (i think) but also gimp and krita i believe.

Oh i suppose I should mention that i took art all four years of highschool and also minored in it in college! So it’s something i did academically as well as for fun. I keep thinking about going to art school for realsies but idk. I’m already $$$ in debt from my first degree i dont feel like adding to that 😅😓

Ok now for the second part of your question: I’ve also pretty much always done fan art! Ive never really been one for OC’s, EXCEPT for the self-insert superhero double life “comics” i wrote about a poodle named Sassy when i was in third grade. And then the knock off “comics” i wrote at a later time which honestly it was weird that i did a knock off of my own thing rather than just adding them to the original or making it a spin off with at least one of the og characters. Cuz it wasnt a spin off!! But anyway there wasnt really much to any of these characters; i just needed vessels to get my weird ideas out.

So anyway yeah most of what ive ever drawn has been fan art or self portraits, because its just easier for me to take characters that already exist and bend them to my will (artistically). Well excluding art assignments in school i guess because i would usually have to draw something specific and therefore not something self indulgent. But yeah ive drawn for lots of fandoms like the earliest i remember is warrior cats. Then theres things like pokemon and warriors and random other books i read thru middle school (i used to read a LOT but now im practically illiterate); spn, sherlock, and marvel through high school; and then marvel and bttf thru the end of hs and beyond. Idk i also have always loved looking at other peoples fan art and so im like “shit i wanna do that too!”. Tho i will say marvel was my biggest fandom and the one i had the longest interest in, so that was probably where the passion REALLY came from cuz I was drawing marvel stuff for such a long time (tho not posting shdjsk u have to trust me), but ive been doing fan art forever :)

(Of course, a lot of the fan art i was making prior to recently was drawn in lined notebooks or on homework sheets or what have you, and I wasn’t posting really any of it, but i was still making it and a good chunk of it still exists. Oh i should also mention most of it was with pencils or ballpoint pens like i wasnt doing anything too fancy. There was some digital art in the highschool-college time frame but it also really wasnt…much. Honestly i barely posted any of it here but I know some of it’s on deviantart)

I cant pinpoint the exact time I started getting more “serious” about my art in general, but i know the first pandemic lockdown gave me more free time and i was less stressed about schoolwork so i just kinda had a good outlet. (Tho i will say that prior, I had been in a life drawing club for a short while, and i had also been working on a personal sketchbook project that had me pretty ~inspired~ to do art. Also i watched twin peaks around this time and it inspired a lot of Feelings and i was making funky collages and other art pieced that were sometimes related to that. Some of those are on deviantart)

Honestly I think the Big thing with my digital art was coincidentally getting back into BTTF the summer of the 35th anniversary bc the fandom here was THRIVING and i was like “oh shit wait i want to contribute!” But as i kept drawing i kept wanting to improve and that leads us to right now where im constantly trying new things (whether subtle or obvious) and challenging myself to do full body drawings with different poses, and doing screencap redraws and what have you for various reasons (backgrounds, proportions, pose, etc)

So yeah :) Basically I’ve been doing fan art forever (I didnt even get into all the mediums ive tried but that’s another conversation bc this is already so long and convoluted) and it’s kinda coincidental that ive suddenly really gotten back into it and have improved dramatically in such a short time. Thank you so much @rovermcfly for the ask and again im really sorry you had to wait so long for a response! Stupid tumblr

#rovermcfly #signed sealed delivered #THANK U SM I HOPE U ENJOY KY RAMBLING :)#id love to ramble more if theres anything else u’d like to hear about my art journey :) bc i know this is all over the place lmfao #i will say some periods of life were a bit more inspired than others and thats bc i like will not draw if im too stressed #bc likely if im too stressed im too tired. see: a few weeks ago when that job was draining my life force

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q-gorgeous · 5 years ago

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Why Am I So Heavy?

fanfiction

Word count: 4318

Prompt for the Phic Phight by @voidetrap. Danny is a ghost who became half-human after stumbling through a portal to the human world.

guys this is the longest fic ive ever written i hope this keeps up i need to catch up to laz

Footsteps could be heard walking through a forest, the sounds of twigs snapping as two teenagers made their way through the trees.

“C’mon, Sam. The last time you dragged me out here to do some spooky ritual I was hiccuping out daisies for a week. Can’t you find someone else to drag out into the middle of nowhere, or go by yourself?”

“No can do, Tucker. Going on hikes by yourself is dangerous and everyone else was busy.”

Tucker grumbled. “I wish I was busy.”

“Here we are!” Sam shouted, running past Tucker into a clearing in the trees that led to a cliff overlooking the rest of the forest.

Sam walked over to a large, dead tree and started rummaging around in it’s hollow base. She pulled out a large stick, a toolbox, and a crystal ball.

“Today the earth and sun’s electromagnetic fields are supposed to form a portal, which usually just exchanges electrons. Though I think if I can get this pentagram set up with these quartz and crystals, I can make it work. Oh! And today’s also the solstice, that’ll help too.”

Tucker watched as Sam walked around the clearing, drawing a large pentagram into the ground with a stick. “Electromagnetic hoohaa? How do you even know what that means?”

Looking up at him, pausing in her task, she blew hair out of her eyes. “Don’t you ever go listen to the Fenton’s when they give presentations at the library? They’re kind of weird, but the concepts they propose are actually pretty rad.”

Tucker shook his head vigorously. “Nuh uh. No way. The last time you took me with it was only the two of us and he spent three hours talking about his childhood. Three hours! I didn’t wanna know about how he cried every night at dinner because he had to eat horse meat.”

Looking back down to her drawing in the dirt, Sam shrugged. “Your loss then. Lately they’ve started bringing their inventions in to show people and they go over their blueprints and everything. Mrs. Fenton is also thinking about doing defense classes. Did you know she’s a fourth degree black belt?”

“Nope, and I don’t really care to learn more.” He squinted his eyes and looked up into the trees, smiling mischievously. “Though… I would like to learn more about Jazz Fenton.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Dream on, Tuck. Now come here and put down these candles and quartz at each point while I lug the crystal ball over here.”

Tucker walked over and bent down to open the toolbox, scooping everything out of it. “Dream on? Next time I see Jazz Fenton I’ll walk right up to her and use one of my signature pick up lines. It’s foolproof!” He placed a candle and quartz on the ground at his feet.

“Okay, Tucker.” Sam grunted as she lifted the crystal ball into her arms. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She placed the crystal ball in the center of the pentagram and walked over to her backpack as Tucker lit each of the candles. She pulled out a book and flipped to her latest entry. Stepping over a log and kneeling behind it, she beckoned Tucker over.

“Okay, come behind here. I’m not sure what’ll happen but the Fenton’s said when they tried opening a ghost portal in college it blew up in their friend’s face.”

“Wait, what?!”

Before Tucker could continue, Sam interrupted him, chanting.

“Vocare nos spirituum ligno!”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny floated on his back through the ghost zone, bored out of his mind. Everyone was busy today.

Ember and Skulker were on a date. Johnny and Kitty were fighting. Even the Box Ghost had something to do! What was a dead guy supposed to do for entertainment around here?

He rolled onto his stomach and let out a large sigh. The ghost zone needed a new attraction or something. Like a theme park. Yeah, maybe he should talk to-

Something a ways ahead of him caught his eye. It looked like a little flicker of green light. Looking closely again, he could see a small swirl of green mist.

Today just got a lot more interesting.

He flew over to it but soon it disappeared again, without a trace. He scratched the top of his head. What was that? He floated around the space in a circle, his eyes never leaving the spot.

After a few seconds, he shrugged. Maybe it was a ghost trying to form that wasn’t very successful. He wondered where it went. Purgatory? Maybe.

Just as Danny was turning away, he could see the swirl again out of the corner of his eye but it increased in size and suddenly Danny was screaming in pain.

Pain, why was he in so much pain? Were ghosts even supposed to feel this much pain? What was happening?

And suddenly, suddenly he was falling. Falling and falling through this bright, swirling thing that engulfed him.

The last thought that went through his mind was that he had forgotten what gravity felt like, and with a smack, everything went dark.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

“Si vocare te spirituum.” Tucker said as he looked over Sam’s shoulder at her book. “Clearly you don’t know latin.”

Sam was fuming and pushed his face away from her. “Why’d you tell me to use google translate if you KNOW LATIN?!”

Tucker raised his hands in surrender as he backed away from her. “I couldn’t have you knowing I knew latin! I’d be forever dragged into your schemes!”

“Yeah, well-” Sam was cut off as she heard a groan come from the clearing on the other side of the log. Looking over, covering Tucker’s mouth to shush him, she could see a pale skinned boy with black hair laying on top of her now crushed crystal ball.

A swirling green portal that she hadn’t noticed during her bickering with Tucker was hovering above him, flickering out of existence. Gaze traveling back down to the boy, she scrunched her eyebrows.

This didn’t look like a ghost. He looked like a normal kid. Why did a normal kid just fall out of her ghost portal?

Sam stood up slowly and stepped over the log and out of Tucker’s grasp as he tried to hold her back. She walked over to the boy and knelt down and was just about to check his pulse when he groaned again, sending her toppling down onto her butt.

“Ugh, why do I feel so heavy?”

His eyes slowly slid open, and his head shakily raised and his gaze met hers. They stared at each other until he started taking in his surroundings, panic growing on his face.

“Where am I?! What did you do to me?!” Sam shook her head, eyes wide. “I don’t know! I was trying to open a portal to the ghost zone and then you fell out! What were you even doing in there?”

“What was I doing in there? What do you think I was doing in there? I’m a ghost!”

Tucker cleared his throat from where he still knelt behind the log. “Sorry to break it to you, dude, but you don’t look like any ghost I’ve ever seen.” “What do you-” The boy stopped as his hair fell into his eyes. “Black? My hair isn’t black! What’s going on?!”

Sam hurriedly pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened the camera, pointing it at his face so he could see himself. “What are you supposed to look like?”

The boy grabbed his hair, pulled on the skin under his blue eyes, pinched his arms. His breaths started coming faster and faster until he glared up at Sam, his eyes now flashing green. “What did you do to me?!” He yelled, the sound much louder than anything a human should be capable of, prompting Sam and Tucker to cover their ears.

“I don’t know!” Sam shouted, her heart beating wildly. “I was just trying to open a portal to see if the ghost zone was real! I didn’t know you’d be there!”

“I wanna go home!” He wailed, sending the candles and quartz flying away from the pentagram.

A flash of white light appeared around the boy’s waist, traveling across his figure until a glowing ghost with white hair lay on the ground instead. Floating up, he flexed his fingers and pulled an ectoblast into his hand.

“Sam!” Tucker shouted. “When you’re done talking to ghosts aren’t you supposed to say goodbye to them when they need to leave? Right”

She nodded and looked back up at the boy. “Yeah. Goodbye, spirit! Begone!”

He kept floating steadily towards her, an angry look in his eyes.

Panic flared up inside her chest.

“Goodbye! Au revoir! Auf wiedersehen!”

“Sam?!” Tucker shrieked.

“It’s not working!”

The ghost boy pulled back an arm, readying to throw the ectoplasm in his hand when he shuddered and dropped to the ground, the bright flash appearing once again and leaving behind the same, human looking boy from before.

“What is this?” He grumbled into the dirt. “I feel so heavy and tired. And warm. Gosh, way too warm.”

Sam listened to him wheeze in confusion, her brows furrowed. Ghosts didn’t need to breathe, did they? Why was this one out of breath on the ground?

She scooted towards him slowly and held out her hand to him.

“Can I see something?” She asked softly.

He looked at her hand, puzzled, before placing his own on top of it. Sam cradled it with one hand and with the other she took two fingers and placed them on his wrist.

Her mouth dropped open.

“You… You have a pulse.”

“What?” He pulled his hand away, glaring down at the offending appendage. “That can’t be possible.”

“Well it’s there.” She said, nodding towards him. “ Check for yourself.”

He squinted at her, brows drawn, but reached up two fingers and placed them on the side of his neck. His eyes shot open and he looked back at her in disbelief.

“But… I died. I was a ghost. This can’t… This isn’t…”

The trio was silent for a few moments until Tucker plopped down next to Sam.

“What do we do now?” He asked.

In response, the ghost boy’s stomach grumbled and with wide eyes he looked at it in shock.

“Well.” Sam said. “I guess we need to get him some food. Let’s start cleaning up.”

Tucker and Sam began cleaning up, storing the candles and quartz back in the toolbox and erasing the pentagram while the ghost boy just stared at the ground.

“Uh, Sam?” Tucker started. “What are we going to do about the crystal ball?”

Sam looked at the ground where it was smashed to pieces and groaned.

“We’ll have to lug a garbage bag back with us. Can you grab the shovel from the tree and I’ll get a bag from my backpack?”

“Can do, Stew.” Tucker saluted and walked over to the hollow in the trunk.

Sam picked up the book she had dropped on the ground and stuck it in her backpack before grabbing a bag. Turning back around she saw the ghost boy standing shakily, one hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry for breaking your...thing.”

Sam shrugged. “It’s okay, I can just get a new one. It’s not like it was really your fault anyways.”

As she held the bag open, Tucker began scooping up shards of the crystal ball and soon Sam tied it off, slinging it over her shoulder. After storing the shovel back in the tree Tucker joined the two.

“So, man, did you ever say what your name was?”

“Oh, uh, Danny. Danny Phantom.”

“Nice to meet you, sort of.” Danny’s face fell at that and Tucker back tracked. “But it’s going good now! Right? First impressions aren’t everything!”

Sam rolled her eyes. “I’m Sam, and that’s Tucker, my reluctant right hand man.”

Tucker flared up the collar on his button up shirt. “That’s Tucker Foley, TF for Too Fine.”

Chuckling, Sam elbowed him.

“Well, since you’ll need sustenance and shelter for an unforeseeable amount of time, you can sleep over at my house tonight!”

Sam’s face dropped. “Oh my god, Tucker.”

“What? It’s not weird to have sleepovers at our age. It just means we have extra friend time.”

“Not that! What are we supposed to do with him? He’s supposed to be dead! He doesn’t have a birth certificate or any kind of identification! And it’s not like he can stay with us forever. My parents would freak.”

“Hm.” Tucker tapped his chin. “I did not think of that.”

Danny groaned. “So I have to eat food now and find shelter without having anyway to do that? Being dead is so much easier.”

“We’ll make it work!” Sam rushed. “Let’s just go to the Nasty Burger and get something to eat first. Then we’ll figure something out.”

Both boys nodded simultaneously.

“Okay.”

“Sounds good.”

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

The three were in a booth at the Nasty Burger, Sam and Tucker long finished with their food while Danny was on his sixth round of a Mighty Meaty Burger meal.

“Dude, even if you haven’t eaten since you died surely you aren’t that hungry? You’ve only felt hunger for like, an hour now.” Tucker said incredulously as he tapped something on his phone.

“Try not eating anything for an entire year and see how much you miss the feeling of eating delicious food.” Danny quipped back, his mouth full.

“You got me there.” Tucker said as he threw a finger gun towards Danny.

“Okay, guys, I think we need to start talking about what we’re going to do instead of watching Danny eat.” She tapped her chin as she thought. “We could go talk to the Fentons!”

Tucker looked at her, a deadpan expression on his face.

“You want to go talk to the Fentons, who are ghost hunters, about this ghost-human hybrid that we accidentally unleashed?”

“Wait ghost hunters?” Danny mumbled around a mouth full of food.

“Who else are we gonna talk to? They’re the only people who study ghosts around here, and they know me. No one else would want to listen to a bunch of kids anyways.”

“Wait, Sam, can we go back to the ghost hunter part-”

“Do you know how risky it would be to bring him there?” Tucker asked. “We don’t know what’d they’d do to him, especially because there’d be no trace of him, since he's, you know, dead.”

“Tucker-”

“They’re not gonna kidnap him, Tucker!”

“How do you-”

“GUYS!” Danny yelled.

Sam and Tucker paused in their bickering, looking at Danny’s glowing green eyes.

“Can you explain the ghost hunters thing?”

“Oh. Right.” Sam says. “Well, they’ve been studying ectology since they were in college, they even tried to create a ghost portal but it was unsuccessful. Lately they’ve been working on a newer model and an arsenal of ghost hunting weapons, but they haven’t had the chance to really test them yet.” She pulls a flyer out of her backpack.

“They do presentations at the library every week.”

Danny looks at the paper for a few moments before resting his face in his hands.

“Why would you want to give them a chance to test their weapons? Wouldn’t they be gung ho at any opportunity?”

“Not necessarily!” Sam said rushedly. “They only just moved here a couple months ago but they’re very nice, though a little over the top. They have two daughters too. They should be able to realize that you’re just a kid that needs help.”

Danny raised his head back up and leveled a stare at her.

“When's the next meeting?” He asked.

“Tomorrow at noon.”

He leaned back in his seat, head tilted against the back, and groaned. “Ugh. I guess we really have no other option.” Tucker swiped a fry from Danny’s tray. “Don’t worry man. If they try anything, they’ll probably be stopped by Jazz. She doesn’t believe in the whole ghost schtick.”

“Jazz?” Danny asked as he picked up his burger.

“That’s the oldest Fenton daughter. They also have a daughter named Elle. She sort of looks like you, actually.” Sam said.

“Yeah. She’s a feisty little gremlin. Always beating my high scores when we go to the arcade.” Tucker pouted.

Sam looked at her watch, checking the time. “Well guys, I think we better get going. It’s getting pretty late. Don’t wanna miss the presentation tomorrow.” She jittered excitedly in her seat. “I can’t wait to tell them I opened a ghost portal!”

“Are you into all their ecto, ghost hunting stuff?” Danny asked wryly.

“Not really. I’m more into witchcraft and goth stuff. Ghosts just happened to fall in between those somewhere.” Sam stood up and collected her trash. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. I’ll meet you at Tucker’s house.”

She waved goodbye and left the restaurant.

“So…” Tucker started. “Do you wanna go back to my place and play some video games?”

“Video games?” Danny asked.

Tucker clutched his chest in mock horror. “You don’t remember video games?! Forget sleep, there’s much you need to see!”

And with that, Tucker jumped up and dragged Danny out the door by the wrist.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

Danny walked out the front door of Tucker’s house, yawning. When he blinked open his eyes he could see Sam standing there, tapping her foot.

“What? I haven’t weighed this much in a year. Walking around was tiring.” Danny told her.

“We also played video games until three in the morning.” Tucker yawned as he walked out behind him.

“Why would you tell her that?” Danny asked, turning around.

“To make her mad?” Tucker shrugged.

Sam sighed. “Whatever guys. Let’s just get going. They’re starting soon.”

They walked down the street in silence until Danny spoke.

“How many people usually go to these things? Is there a lot?”

“No.” Sam said. “Usually it’s just me. And Tucker when I can get him to go.”

Tucker groans. “I just hope Mr. Fenton doesn’t get into telling His Life Story: Volume Two. It was so boring the last time.”

“What do we do if they won’t help us?” Danny asked.

Sam and Tucker looked at each other in silence. Sam took a deep breath and spoke. “I’m sure they’ll help us. They’re nice people.”

Soon they walked inside the library, the building quiet except for the few hushed voices reading children's books and the boisterous laughter that could be heard coming from Mr. Fenton across the building. When Danny heard it, he paused, hands clenched into fists.

“What if they hate me? What if they won’t help us? I’ll just be stuck here, alive and homeless. What if they strap me down on some table, tearing me apart molecule by molecule?”

Sam turned to face Danny, walking towards him and resting her hands on his shoulders. “They probably won’t be able to tell anyways. It’ll be alright. We’ll go in and wait until the meeting is over and then go talk to them.”

Danny’s shoulders shook, and he took a deep breath and nodded.

Together, the three of them walked to the presentation room.

“Just remember, stay calm. It’ll be-”

A clatter resounded through the room as they crossed through the door.

“Danno?”

Mr. Fenton was standing in front of the projector screen, an ectogun laying on the floor at his feet. His eyes were wide and haunted, looking straight at Danny.

Looking behind him, Danny wore a confused expression on his face.

“Me?” He said, pointing at himself.

The older man nodded. “But how are you… You… This can’t be possible.” He looked Danny over again and then his gaze traveled to Sam. “Ms. Manson, what..?”

“Do you know Danny, Mr. Fenton?” Sam asked softly, confused.

“He’s my son.”

Sam’s mouth dropped open and she looked at Tucker who was leaning up against the door frame, staring blankly at the floor. Danny still looked confused, but a chirpy voice soon interrupted them.

“Jack, sweetie, the staff room ran out of sugar again but I think your coffee should be fine with only four packets.”

The three kids turned around to see Mrs. Fenton standing behind them, two coffee cups in her hands. She smiled at them until her gaze landed on Danny. Her expression soured and she dropped the coffees, pulling out an ectogun from her suit pointing it at Danny.

“What is this ectoplasmic scum doing here impersonating our boy?!”

“Wait!” Sam shouted, putting herself between the barrel of Mrs. Fenton’s gun and Danny. “He has a pulse!” “That’s impossible.” Mrs. Fenton scoffed. “Our son passed a year ago. That’s just a form of post human consciousness.”

“No, please!” Sam reached behind her, searching for Danny’s hand. Once she found it, he grabbed it in a death grip, she pulled it forward, opening up his wrist for the woman. “Please, trust me.”

Mrs. Fenton threw another sour look towards Sam, but obliged the girl. She placed her fingers over Danny’s wrist and waited. Once she felt the fast pulse underneath his skin, her eyes widened and shock flashed across her face.

Dropping his wrist, she stepped back, nearly collapsing until Tucker caught her.

“What is this?” Maddie whispered. “What happened?”

Sam moved to sit down at one of the chairs in the room, still holding Danny’s hand and pulling him behind her. “Yesterday had the perfect atmosphere and phenomenon to create a natural ghost portal and after one of your presentations I wanted to try, because who knew when I’d get a better chance.

“When we finished the ritual a swirling green portal formed and he fell out like this but…”

“He has two forms.” Tucker continued. “And he can still do ghost stuff. But he can feel hunger and gravity and he produces heat. Has a pulse. But he doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“We came to talk to you guys because we didn’t know what to do… Like, what are we gonna do with someone with no identification who’s supposed to be dead?” Sam asked.

Mr. Fenton knelt down in front of Danny, touseling the boy's hair, and rested his hands on his shoulders.

“Do you want to come back home with us? Do you trust us?”

Danny’s grip was still tight on Sam’s hand, and he looked from Mr. Fenton to Mrs. Fenton, who had tears in her eyes and her own tight grip on Tucker’s hand. He nodded.

Mr. Fenton’s own eyes filled with tears and he wrapped Danny up in a bear hug, squeezing the life right back out of him. Slowly, Danny lifted his own arms up around the man, feeling his own tears running down his face.

QQQQQQQQQQQQQ

One Month Later

“Haha! Beat you again!” Elle laughed.

“Man, you really are a little gremlin, aren’t you?” Danny shot back at her, throwing a pillow in her face.

“Excuse you, I’m adorable.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

He clicked on the New Round option in the game, going through the fighters and picking the same character as he did for the last fight.

A small frown formed on Elle’s face. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. Why do you ask?” He shot her a look before the round started.

“You keep picking the same character that had been your favorite before…”

Elle trailed off and when Danny turned to look at her there were tears in her eyes.

“No, no don’t cry, Elle. It’s alright. I’m here now. That’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

She sniffed and rubbed some tears off her face. “Yeah. It’s the only thing I could’ve asked for.” She paused. “Do you think you’ll ever remember?”

Danny looked down at his hands. “I’m not sure. But even if I don’t I’ll still be here for you whenever you need it, okay?”

Elle smiled. “Okay.”

Danny’s phone chirped and he pulled it out from his pocket.

“Oh, that’s Sam. We’re supposed to go see that new movie with Tucker. Rematch when I get home?”

“Can it be called a rematch if I know you’re gonna lose again?”

“You wish!” He pulled her into a side hug. “See you when I get home?”

“Yeah. See you!” She waved him off.

Danny ran down the stairs and was about to bolt out the door to greet his friends when Jazz stopped him.

“Where are you going, little brother?” She asked.

Danny rolled his eyes at the name. “Just to see a movie with Sam and Tucker. I’ll be back in a couple hours, okay?”

Jazz nodded and walked over to him. “Can I have a hug before you leave?”

Danny opened his arms and she pulled him into a tight hug.

“Stay safe.” She whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of ghost muscles now.”

Jazz snorted and pushed Danny towards the door. “Okay. Off you go.”

He opened the door to see Sam and Tucker standing outside it. When Sam looked up, she elbowed Tucker in the side and pointed past Danny at Jazz.

“Pft, I’ve been practicing. This’ll be no biggie.”

Clearing his throat, Tucker caught Jazz’s attention.

“Do you like dates? How do you feel about a raisin?” He shot a pair of finger guns at her.

Jazz tsked and smiled at Tucker. “Dates are very tasty, and a raisin would be a delicious treat!”

Confusion crossed over Tucker’s face before horror broke across it. Sam broke out laughing beside him.

“Better luck next time, Tucker.” Jazz said before walking back to the kitchen.

Tucker kneeled onto the ground, holding his face in his hands. “The shame. I’ve taken the honor from my family's name. I’ve embarrassed myself for the last time.”

“As if.” Sam snorted.

“Hey!” Tucker shouted at her.

Danny chuckled and shook his head at his friend's antics.

“Come on, guys. Let’s go see this movie.”

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #fanfic #fanfiction #phic phight #phic phight 2020 #team ghost

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langdxn · 5 years ago

Text

salvation part i | outpost!michael x fem!reader

SUMMARY: An unexpected delivery of apples arrives at Outpost 3 — but why?

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, pregnancy, sorta implied breeding kink, soft!Michael and a slight timeline meddle.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

A/N: Taking a brief break from the shameless smut in exchange for a little play on the original Outpost timeline. I apologise profusely if it’s absolute bollocks, I just liked the idea. Dirty Michael will be back very soon, I promise!

part ii // part iii // part iv // part v

A horse-drawn carriage burst through the sinister fog enveloping Outpost 3, triggering a perimeter breach that scattered Venable, Mead and the Fist toward the entrance. Crimson floodlights littered the bronzed corridors in a luminous panic as the women in power met in the corridors.

“Could this be an attack, like those other outposts?” Venable stifled a gulp. Mead shrugged cluelessly, sparking the group to head outside toward the deafening metallic cacophony.

In the shadow of the flickering blood red lights flooding his office, Michael perched studiously at his desk, staring blankly at his open laptop while silently rattling through his mind for explanations for the disturbance.

He knew there wasn’t a scheduled invasion or another Cooperative delegate due at Outpost 3, he was the last visitor expected there before their planned overrun. He also knew there was to be no intrusion while he carried out his interviews for the repopulation of the Sanctuary, his ��cooperating’ procedures were not to be disturbed under any circumstances.

Wandering away from his work to follow his train of thought, he creaked open his office door to see the commotion for himself. Leaning against the doorway, he caught sight of Mead and Venable skittering down a far corridor, the shorter lady carrying a crate and the strict leader holding an apple in her free hand.

An apple?

———

“I’ve always loved apples,” Michael muttered into the peel, taking a deep sniff at its ruby red skin before taking a generous bite and talking through his furious chewing. “Ms Mead used to leave me the one she placed in the pig’s mouth for roast dinners on Sundays.”

You blinked your doe eyes at him across the picnic blanket, watching him drift off into his memories in the middle distance. Happy memories before Hawthorne, before the Seven Wonders, before he lost the only other woman he trusted. Apart from you.

You reached for an apple yourself, Michael’s gaze watching your hands intently as if your every move were a work of art. This intimate beachside picnic was your idea, a break from his incessant Cooperative meetings and outpost visits before the apocalypse initiation, scheduled in two weeks time.

“Then I guess we’d better plant an apple tree in the Sanctuary before this whole thing kicks off,” you suggested, taking a shallow bite of the fruit, “can’t exactly survive the end of the world without apples.”

Michael’s gorgeous azure eyes met yours as his free hand swooped towards your abdomen. Drawing a deep, sentimental breath, he spread his fingers to take in every inch of your flat stomach beneath your dress.

“Where we’re going, sweetheart, we won’t need apples. One day, you’ll be giving me the best gift imaginable.”

———

As Michael spun on his painfully expensive heels, his eyes drew towards his previously empty office chair, now occupied. A smooth black silk dress draped over a lithe female perched on the seat, legs crossed elegantly and hands resting on her knees.

Michael’s heart soared.

“Y/N?!” His jaw nearly shattered on the floor as he belted across the room to wrap his arms around you in a desperate haze of disbelief, you jolted to your feet to meet his embrace. Crashing into you, Michael peppered frenetic pecks over your cheeks and lips, his lovelorn eyes and warming heart betraying his stern exterior.

“I—I thought you were dea—gone, th—they told me our Outpost was overrun?” He stuttered into the shell of your ear, squeezing his arms around you so tightly he might cave in your ribcage.

“I got out before they got in, I had to see you again baby,” you brushed your hands up and down his velour-clad spine reassuringly as he dipped his head into your shoulder. You swore you could feel his searing hot tears peppering your collarbone, but he had never cried in front of you before, to the point you weren’t even sure he could cry.

Out of his line of sight, you smiled to yourself that you got away with sneaking in without him sensing your presence. Michael’s powers were always useless against you, as if a steel wall barricaded between you both and he couldn’t break through it no matter how hard he tried. He would question your status as a mere mortal if he wasn’t already acutely aware of the emotional power you held over him ever since you first met. All you had to do was smile and he was yours in a heartbeat.

You both stood in the middle of his room in total silence for what felt like hours, clutching onto each other and never wishing to let go. The weeks you spent apart as he travelled to Outpost 3 were the longest you’d ever gone without Michael Langdon by your side. You breathed in his deep, woodsy scent like it was pure oxygen, planting soft kisses on his flowing golden curls whenever one grazed your cheek.

The silence between you broke momentarily as you heard distant thuds, staccato and final crashes as if the weight of bodies hitting polished stone floors.

“D—do the others know you’re here?” Michael spluttered as he lifted his face from your shoulder to meet your gaze, his cerulean irises more vivid than you’d ever seen before.

“Mead and someone else were too busy inspecting my carriage to see me sneak past them through the doors,” you assured your lover. “I learned that from you, when you creep out of bed in the morning to get back to work, thinking you haven’t woken me.”

He chuckled gently and leaned in for the deepest kiss you ever shared, easily surpassing your first kiss -- a rushed, heated affair that you had no idea would outlive the end of the world. Leaning into you to hold you as close as he could, he felt your bump make its presence known between you. He lowered a hand to greet your swelling abdomen, his cool rings brushing the silk that billowed over your form.

“How are you doing down there, little guy?” He gushed as he consumed the sight of his unborn heir before him. Your eyes darted down to your bump, stifling a soft chuckle under your breath.

“You mean little lady,” you grinned, meeting his gaze as his pupils burst their oceanic banks when they met yours, stunned and overwhelmed.

“It’s a girl?!” Michael squealed, blissful tears flowing so freely down his face and racing towards his lips as they parted in sheer disbelief. Once again, his intuitive powers over his lady failed him, but this time he delighted in his new revelation, planting a haunting, grateful kiss on your lips.

“This beautiful missus will be making an appearance any day now,” you reminded him, placing your hand atop his on your bump as your rings clink together harmoniously.

“Then I’ll set up a birthing pool in my quarters. Keep it full at all times, just in case.”

Michael’s hand waved effortlessly in the air, leaving you to assume he had accomplished that task in a matter of seconds without even exiting the room. His powers and his tricks always caught you off guard, no matter how many years you had spent with him before the apocalypse.

Michael applied a gentle, reassuring pressure onto your baby’s home, reminding the life inside that she will be worshipped and adored when she arrives. A blindingly bright life born in nuclear darkness. He consoled himself that it was only fitting that his child comes into the world under Hawthorne’s roof just as the man Michael Langdon was destined to become was born in these hallowed halls a matter of years before.

In processing the joyful news you carried with you, Michael’s thoughts darted to the situation that lay in the Outpost in which his entire family were now stood.

“Something’s happening here, I can smell it,” he quivered with a distinct tone of uneasiness, his eyes darting down to his feet despondently as his rigid confidence cracked, only ever in front of you. “The witches aren’t dead, I’ve failed.”

“My darling, look at me,” you urged his face upward with two fingers under his chin, beaming your usual warm, comforting smile. “We’ll all be okay.”

“Nobody knows I’m here. If anybody attacks you, if the worst happens,” your voice broke softly, trying your hardest to maintain a steely facade for your man. You cupped his cheek with your hand as he turned gently to plant a kiss in your palm. “I’ll be here to protect you, Boy Wonder.”

A curt knock at his office door shattered the silence between you. Ominous. Urgent. Michael’s eyes darted around the room, formulating the next step in his hurriedly altered plan.

“That’ll be Venable and Ms Mead,” Michael announced, pointing at another oak door in the rear corner of his office space. “Go to my quarters, there’s a passage that’ll take you straight there through the library. Hide in there and whatever you hear, whatever you see, whatever you think you’re seeing, don’t come out until they make the signal, do you hear me?”

“The signal? Wh—what signal? Who’s ‘they’?” You shed your hardened exterior in a panic. Michael was speaking in riddles you didn’t have the answers to, or at least not yet. He kissed your lips deeply and urged you in the direction of the door before sitting at his desk and opening his laptop to look busy when the women entered.

“When you hear them say these words, I need you to fight. I need you to do whatever you can to stop the witches. I’m relying on you, Y/N.”

“What words, Michael?”

“Tempus infinituum.”

—————————————————————————————————

A/A/N: Let me know if you’d like to be on a tag list, I’ve never done one before and I don’t want to bother anybody who’s not interested! x.x

#michael langdon #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagines #cody fern #outpost!michael

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spearxwind · 5 years ago

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OOF... i dont even have a theme for the major extinction characters sjlklfdhk. i dont.. i dont have most minor characters planned out even

I WILL GIVE YOU HOWEVER, a song that’s been inspiring me for certain worldbuilding things (though i cant say much bc idk if itll end up showing in the story at all but you can have it!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XciV8HuNQLw [it’s realm breaker, by mechina]

Oh man, im influenced by a bunch of art and comics but i couldnt pin down specific inspirations for those haha

as for the more broad sense, i also have a bunch of things! significantly, physics and space. it might not look like it but i think a lot about the logistics of things and whatever rules would exist in my universes etc. it does suck sometimes bc it prevents me from doing things just for the hell of it, but i love applying knowledge to things. and space has always been something really close to me, my dad’s an astrophysicist so ive been exposed to all sorts of cool knowledge about it since i was a wee bab

i also really really love metaphors and symbolism, but rather than take inspiration from things i just use my own personal symbolism x) i put a lot of myself in what i do. which.. i guess could be said for many artists too so its not too special haha

and also as with many other artists, i AM fueled by spite significantly. specifically 1. for the people who once thought or who still think id never be good to do art, or that id never get better at what i do. 2. for people who draw wings wrong (especially professional people? what’s wrong with you. im begging you to look at a bird) 3. for people and companies that make terrible designs with terrible decisions (they fuel me to do better than them) 4. for people who believe that the only way to be good at art and design is to make overly complex and visually charged, detailed designs with many colors/hues (all my ocs are fairly simple and have the most limited colors kffhk)

im sure there’s a lot more but ive spent a lot of time writing this out already and i cant really think of anything else so i hope this is a good enough answer!!

god i do NOT have enough knowledge for this but what the fuck was up with the volturi lol. like fuckin, vampire goth club over there did nothing to change over hundreds of years, all of them still stuck in their medieval ways. i remember a plot point that was touched upon was that they had a specific person lure in a bunch of lost tourists through the sewer entrance so that the volturi could drink them and like ?? bro. how is this not investigated at any point, ever. like a shit ton of tourists just disappear ??? all the time?? and no one gives a fuck?? no investigation?? what do they do with the bodies?????

also, they were willing to blast the carlisle family into fucking orbit over Turning A Child (tm) into a vampire, but they had absolutely no qualms about vampire wars/soldiers where a lot of people were irresponsibly turned into neophytes for their strength (like jasper) or people who turned others just for the fuck of it or bc theyd have sickass powers (like benjamin. that was the sole reason for benjamin being turned. bc the dude could feel that benj would have cool powers and he absolutely did... he was a fucking avatar. controller of the elements. and he did absolutely jack shit in the books. im still so mad)

but yeah anyway the volturi are big hypocrites. got nothing to say about their lifestyle and aesthetic tho bc italians just be like that

his horns and the spikes on his forearms and tail are rly solid and rly pointy so theyre about as dangerous as a solid, pointy big thing can be

the spikes on his neck and back are a lot softer though. theyre flat scales and are probably bendy, but still sturdy. they don’t have edges or anything so you wont be sliced up if you touch them but touching them is probably not too comfortable

alex would probably be a crocodile tbh! it’s one of the things i based his dragon form off of for the latest iteration, and i just think it fits him a lot (also its funny that crocodiles are water creatures but alex has a Big Dislike of water)

also i literally cannot see adri as anything other than a snake sklhfsdk. its what he is!! this is like asking someone’s favorite color but not letting them choose their actual favorite. do you want me to lie? do you want me to say something not true??

Honestly i always loved deer but refused to acknowledge it, especially to myself, and much less thought about having one as a sona bc “prey animals are lame” was rly prevalent in my circles for the longest time. everyone was a dragon or a wolf etc bc they wanted to be cool and so did i but i never vibed with it it took me a rly long time to just accept that i rly liked deer haha and i think what made me decide on it in the end was ‘well i can make a deer more monstery if i wanted to, i have that power’ and so i did then later i tied the whole ‘wrong deer’ aesthetic to my own personal symbolism of always being picked on by many until i got sick of it and learned to stand up for myself. my sona is something that’s not for people to prey on anymore, and so am i c:

honestly? ive never thought about it. im not too knowledgeable about dnd still so i dont think id be able to do them justice

ive thought about making dnd encounters based off of my ocs thought (like, how their powers would work turn/mechanic wise) but if i ever did i dont think id use them or talk about them :’)

jkdg gosh thats so sweet thank you sm!! im so happy you enjoy my stuff :’DDDD

WELL, in no particular order:

1. several glass bottles 2. bei’s pet golem sierra (they got her back though) 3. a knife or two probably 4. an air conditioning remote 5. do sewer rats count? sewer rats. besides all the other rats i mean 6. homeless man who tried to rob his store at gunpoint 7. the gun 8. drank a bottle of cyanide once 9. a motorcycle (as collateral damage) 10. tbh he will eat any creature he finds while walking around that’s small enough to fit in his mouth and no one can rly stop him

DISGOSTING!!! not even bc of the flavor i rly dont care abt that but bc like... warm pineapple... that’s the real crime

oh my gosh that’d be an honor tbh!! I’m not sure if i’d be a big help since i might be tied with school stuff at the time, but id definitely love to try!! ty!!

#ask #anon #ask dump #long post #yeeeeeeeeeeeeeehaw

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whumpernickel · 5 years ago

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so, i finally actually wrote something. i already posted this on ao3, but i was too nervous to share it here until id also finished this other fic i was writing, cuz i like that one a lot better than this one. and since i finished that second one, i figured id share both!

so heres the first work ive shared probably since i was thirteen: some needlessly angsty and sappy post episode-6 witcher fanfic because i have no shame (thats a lie) and zero self-control

Jaskier and Geralt had gone for much longer than this without seeing each other, but this had somehow felt like their longest time spent apart ever. He'd been anxious to see Jaskier – eager, almost. But... their greeting had been awkward, tense, brief- nothing Jaskier ever said was brief -and Geralt felt no small amount of fear at what any of this meant. It made the hairs at the back of his neck rise like a stalked animal's.

It was wrong.

There was so much unspoken, unaddressed, and hanging in the air over them, Geralt could feel it nearly tangible. For once, Geralt broke the silence first.

"What I said... before," he began, noting the way Jaskier tensed. "I know it was wrong."

Jaskier cleared his throat uncomfortably. "No. No, it uh..." he swallowed, "it wasn't."

"It was-"

"No," he insisted more firmly. "Trust me, I've had a lot of time and space to reflect on this, and you weren't wrong – I was stupidly selfish. With the djinn, with the betrothal celebration, with Yen, with... just everything, every one of those times. I was acting only for myself, and no one else, and bad things happened to good people for it. You wouldn't be in such a horrific fucking mess right now if not for- if I had just thought first, for one fucking second in my life. I never think, and..." He took a measured, steadying breath. "Well, I can't imagine I could ever deserve your forgiveness, but, at the very least, you deserve my apology." He met Geralt's eyes now. "And I am sorry. I truly am, Geralt."

Geralt expected to feel some kind of relief at the eye-contact, at the sound of his name spoken once again in his friend's voice, a blessed familiarity after months without it. And it was still there, that vague feeling of home in each other when neither of them really had much of a home otherwise, but it was tainted. The burdened remorse in Jaskier's words turned any sweetness Geralt might have found in them sour. He frowned.

"You... Jaskier, you don't deserve my forgiveness."

Jaskier winced and turned his attention purposefully to the floorboards.</p>

"I know-"

"No, I don't think you do know." Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the shoulders and ducked his head to intercept the man's averted gaze. "You've done nothing that warrants apology."

Jaskier gave an uncomfortable laugh and fidgeted under the attention. "...Okay, I think we both know that's not true – There are reasons- and some admittedly valid ones -that I'm banned from certain taverns, villages, kingdoms- I mean, no amount of lute-playing-"

"You know what I mean."

"Well, yes, but I don't understand it."

Jaskier met his eyes evenly, now, as if daring Geralt to try to rationalize it to him and certain he was placing a bet he couldn't lose.

Geralt felt his chest ache – guilt, confusion; worst of all, pity. He hated seeing pity thrown his way, and so he hated pitying others, especially anyone that meant something. But he couldn't help the twinge of pain at the realization that some part of Jaskier had believed Geralt up on that mountain all those months ago. Geralt knew better than anyone that the only way you could so comfortably and unquestioningly accept the poison fed to you by others was if you were already drinking the same poison from your own hand and calling it "water." He couldn't bear to imagine his so-spirited, so-confident friend doing this, but the evidence was there.

"I shouldn't have said the things I said," Geralt asserted. "They're not true."

Jaskier's eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, and he started to shake his head.

"Jaskier, I'm sor-"

"Please don't."

It was fragile and small, and Geralt almost questioned if it had actually been spoken aloud at all.

"Jas-"

"No, you- you can't take it back now," Jaskier said more audibly, shoving at Geralt's arms in a weak attempt to force some distance between them, "I was just starting to get over y- to... to get over what happened. And, if you take it back, now, then- then... Just don't take it back."

"I can't do this without..."

"Yes, actually, you can." Jaskier's face lit up hopefully, desperately. "You have."

"I don't want to."

"Then find someone."

Someone.

Geralt hadn't just meant he couldn't do this alone. Though he couldn't, of course – but that didn't matter, because he wasn't alone, anymore. Yet, even as not-alone as he was, he still didn't feel whole.

A huff of frustration forced its way out of his nose. How was he supposed to say any of that?

"Who?" Geralt intended it to be rhetorical, but Jaskier took the question at face-value and barreled on.

"Yennefer!- What about Yennefer?" he offered eagerly, "Of Vengerberg?" as if there were any question as to which Yennefer he meant, "Surely you two have made up by now, I mean even I'll admit you're somewhat of a power couple – but, y'know, extra emphasis on 'power.' Or- Or if not, then Téa? You seemed to like her and her man-killing prowess, yes?- I mean, I sure did, her and Véa, whoo, they are... terrifying. I'm sure they must take some time off from Borch-guarding, no? No, you're right, probably not. Then how about the child surprise- they are your destiny, after all, you're welcome for that – Or, if you're looking for a bard, specifically, there are plenty of others – not as good as me of course, but decent enough- I know a guy who-"

"Jaskier."

"What? No good? I mean, I suppose you could always put out an ad-"

"Jask."

Jaskier's nervous rambling died off in a shaky breath that sounded like it was meant to be a laugh, and he turned his full attention back to Geralt cautiously. His forced smile wavered at the soft sobriety in Geralt's expression.

Geralt dropped his hands from Jaskier's arms and took half a step back, ignoring his fear at giving the man enough space to walk away again.

"If you really mean it," Geralt stressed, "then I will leave you alone." A selfish something inside of him twisted at hearing the words out loud, but he let them hang in the air anyway, committed to respecting whatever answer Jaskier gave next.

"...Alright."

"Do you mean it?"

The silence that followed was more stifling than any yet that Geralt had had to endure in the bard's absence. Heavy and air-stealing.

Despite the uncertain pause, there was a sudden sureness on Jaskier's face that scared Geralt, and he instinctively braced himself as Jaskier opened his mouth to answer.

"No."

Geralt exhaled in silent relief. He hadn't noticed the breath caught in his chest until the moment he released it. He composed himself quickly; a show of weakness could probably help his case dramatically in winning back Jaskier's companionship, but it was tough enough showing as much vulnerability as he already had. Unlearning such a habit as ingrained into him as this one was like tearing a security blanket away from a homesick toddler, and the homesick toddler in Geralt was already veering dangerously into tantrum territory.

Despite the vulnerability of all this, he felt a noticeable lightness in his chest. Jaskier didn't hate him enough to never want to see him again – that was something. He'd take what he could get and he'd take it gladly.

He was trying to figure out what to say next – Geralt felt cursed, sometimes, with only being lightning-quick with his response if it was a wounding insult or a wordless grunt – but Jaskier figured it out before he did.

"Did you mean it?" he turned Geralt's question back on him.

Geralt blinked. "Did...?"

Jaskier looked at him pointedly.

"Oh."

Geralt felt shame and regret draw his shoulders up toward his ears, and he looked away.

"I... I thought I did," he admitted.

"I thought you did, too."

"I'm... sorry, Jaskier, I... You..." The words still wouldn't come to him.

Geralt didn't do words, but even he could see that there weren't many he could use to fix something that clearly went deeper than just some hurtful accusations thrown carelessly about on a godsforsaken mountaintop somewhere.

He shut his mouth, frowned.

Caring was so much more complicated than he always feared it would be. It wasn't just kill the monster, claim the reward, and go on pretending it didn't matter to him what happened after he left, anymore. The stakes were higher, more personal. This kind of care wasn't the kind that was a whole town of faces where none grabbed his attention long enough to be committed to memory, it was individual faces that he knew and recognized, faces that meant something – and this face was Jaskier's, one of the faces that meant the most. He wanted to reach out and erase the worried furrow between his brows, the tired shadows under his eyes, the modest handful of scars he'd amassed over the years traveling with Geralt.

But he'd leave the crow's feet – those held mostly happy memories.

Jaskier was one of those few people he so desperately wanted in his life, but wished didn't have to experience the hurt of it all.

"Jaskier, you..."

The concept Geralt was still trying ever valiantly to skirt around was family. And his was so very small and fragile, he couldn't bear to lose one piece of it, not for anything...

"You should really meet Ciri," he decided.

Jaskier brightened at this, a small smile crinkling his eyes. "You found her," he said.

Geralt nodded, a smile of his own taking shape.

"Alright. Lead the way."

#the witcher #the witcher fic #jaskier #geralt #angst #this is just #more angst than im even comfortable with lol #but here take it #witcher spoilers #wrudy writes #im not sorry for that tag

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