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idreamofplaid · 4 years ago

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Stronger

Square Filled: Sung to Sleep for @spnfluffbingo & Hurt/Comfort for @girl-next-door-writes Make Me Feel Bingo

Characters: Moc!Dean x Reader; Sam and Cas mentioned

Rating: Teen

Summary: Dean thinks there’s only one thing he can do to protect the woman he loves from the Mark of Cain, but Dean doesn’t know everything.

Word Count: 2949

I felt it as soon as I held that thing in my hand. Rage. Raw and burning, demanding to be released. It was fueled by everything I buried so deep down inside me, and I somehow thought all that regret, disappointment, and frustration would never see the light of day. I could keep it buried out of sheer willpower, or it could magically go away if I wished for it hard enough.

That’s not the kind of magic that’s in the world. That’s not the magic I know. The magic I know curses, manipulates, and hurts people. It twists things up into something they shouldn’t be, and it’s all the things that shouldn’t be that make me so mad. They create the anger that’s in me for the mark to draw upon, all those things that never should have happened. All those things that still sit so heavy on me and Sam.

Mom shouldn’t have died when I was four years old. Dad shouldn’t have tried to drown his grief in a bottle. He shouldn’t have left Sam and me alone like he did. I shouldn’t have watched my brother fall into a hole to hell and try to live a normal life while I knew he was in a cage with Lucifer being tortured. I shouldn’t have had such a good idea of what was happening to him in that cage because I’d been to hell myself.

Everything that’s pent up inside me gave The First Blade its power when I held it, the same way the mark gets its power from me. Those two things combined forces when the blade was in my hand, and I could feel the energy surging through me. It isn’t something I’m going to be able to control, not with silver bullets, rock salt, or a devil’s trap. Nothing I know about fighting is going to help with this thing.

The day is going to come when this mark is going to take over my mind and everything I do. You can’t be here when that happens. I have to protect you, and that means getting you far away from me.

I finish off my third glass of whiskey. It still isn’t enough. There isn’t enough whiskey in this bunker, or all of Kansas, to numb me so much that when I do what I have to do it’s not going to hurt worse than anything I’ve experienced in what has, more or less, been a lifetime of pain with brief moments of happiness.

Most of those moments have been with you. Anything I know of true happiness is because you showed it to me. You didn’t grow up the way I did. I’m thankful for that every day. You don’t know what it’s like to sleep with a gun under your pillow, but you’ve slept next to me plenty of times when there was a gun under mine.

That’s bad enough, but I will not let you suffer what this mark is going to do to me. You deserve better than that. You always deserved more than me, but this is where I draw the line.

I think about pouring myself some more whiskey, but there’s no point. There isn’t anything in that bottle that’s going to give me the courage I need to do what’s right for you. The only thing that can make me strong enough is how much I love you.

I’ve never even told you. Those aren’t words I know how to say, and it’s better now that I didn’t. That would only make this harder, and I don’t want to hurt you any more than I have to. I never wanted to hurt you. I would go to hell again in an instant if it meant sparing you pain. I guess I am; it’s just this time my hell is going to be on earth, and the thing that will torture me the most is being without you.

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“You have to go.” You’re standing in our room with a look of disbelief on your face like you can’t comprehend what I just said, so I try again. “It’s time for this, whatever we’ve had, to be over.” Still you say nothing, just look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours that could make me lose my nerve and not go through with this, so I turn my head away. I can’t look in your eyes.

I’ve got to get through to you. You can’t be near me. I will not let this anger that’s going to consume me consume you too. This situation calls for something else. I still can’t look at you. I cannot look at you when I do this, or I’ll break.

I grab my duffle from the corner where I left it after the last hunt and throw it on the bed, then I open the drawer in the chest where you keep your clothes and start emptying it. I’m stuffing them into the duffle, trying hard not to really notice them because then I’ll remember.

I’ll think about the last time you wore that shirt, or how this is the one you always wear when we curl up on the bed to watch movies together and end up wrapped around each other, making out and forgetting all about the movie.

I’m managing to keep it together until I find one of my shirts in that drawer. It’s my black t-shirt you like to sleep in. I can picture the way it looks on you, the way it falls on your thighs and how good your legs look when you wear it; and then I remember the way it feels when your legs are wrapped around me. I take a deep breath.

I have to stop packing the duffle. I can’t touch your clothes anymore, and you see your opening. “Dean, what are you doing?”

I push the image of you in that shirt with your head on my chest out of my mind because it feels like a fist squeezing the life out of my heart. I zip the duffle closed. Whatever is in there will have to do. I pick it up and throw it on the floor. I never faced any monster that tested my courage the way this is. “I told you. We’re done, and you need to leave.”

“Dean, stop it and look at me.” You reach out and put your hand on my arm. It looks so small, and I want to feel it in mine so bad. It’s the hand I thought about holding for the rest of my life, however long that may be.

I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing again before I turn around to look at you. When I do, I feel my knees go weak. Stay focused. Do what you have to do for her. “Don’t make this harder or more complicated than it has to be, Y/N.”

I’m waiting for you to say something. Anything. But I’m not expecting what you do say. “Dean, you’re full of crap.” Now, it’s my turn to look confused. I have no response for that, but you have plenty more to say.

You let go of my arm, stand back, and cross your arms over your chest. “You think you’re doing something noble, and you’ve done plenty of noble things in your life, but this isn’t one of them. There’s no way you’d be saying any of this if that mark wasn’t on your arm. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Dean. I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. You looked at me that way last night, and I know what it means even if you won’t say it.”

I fumble for something to say, and the best I’ve got is “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your arms fall to your sides. “Like hell you don’t, Dean. You try to stay hidden behind that wall you’ve made around yourself, but before you got the mark; I broke through it. You let me in, and it’s not going to be so easy to push me back out.”

You walk over to the bed and sit down. My eyes follow you; I’m watching every move you make. You’re staring at me, and just as much as I couldn’t look at you before; I can’t help but look at you now. Your voice sounds steady and determined. You aren’t finished with me. You’ve decided I’m going to hear everything you have to say.

“I could leave the bunker, but it wouldn’t mean I’d leave you. I’d still be in touch with Sam all the time, asking him about you, keeping tabs on you, doing everything I could to save you. I’ll never stop trying to save you no matter how many times you tell me to go because I don’t believe any of it, and because I love you. You can’t stop me from loving you, and I won’t. I can’t now even if I tried.” You wrapped your arms around your middle and hugged yourself. It was nothing like when you’d taken your defiant stance with your arms folded over your chest.

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut, and all the air had been knocked out of me. All I wanted to do was sit down beside you, take you in my arms, and give you all the comfort you were trying to give yourself. It was true. You wouldn’t give up. That’s who you are. Stubborn. Willful. And the kindest, most loving woman on this earth.

Fuck no. There are tears in your eyes. Not tears. I can’t handle tears. I can’t just watch you cry and do nothing to stop it. The next thing you say blows my plan to pieces.

You hug yourself tighter, and a tear slips down your cheek. “I need you, Dean. Our...baby needs you.”

I sit down on the end of the bed because I don’t trust my legs to hold me up anymore, and I’m trying to read your face, trying to will you to look at me. “Our...Wh...What?”

When you do look at me, your eyes are sad. Your eyes shouldn’t be sad. More tears are streaming down your face. I can’t just sit here. I slide down the side of the bed until I’m next to you, and I wipe the tears from your cheeks. You let me. You don’t pull away, and I’m relieved for that. Just forget what I said before. I was an ass. I didn’t know.

“We’re having a baby, Dean. Don’t make me go.” Your tears have turned into sobs, and I take you in my arms, my earlier act forgotten.

I put my hand in your hair and hold the back of your head while I whisper to you and try to calm you down. You shouldn’t be upset like this. “Shh, Y/N. It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry. I wouldn’t send you and the baby away. I would never do that.” I’ll leave if I have to. You’ll be safe here in the bunker with Sam. He’ll protect you, and this place is warded against anything that might want to hurt you. Sam is so smart; he’ll find a way to keep me out if he needs to. He knows what I would want.

After a few minutes, you stop crying and lift your head from my shoulder. Your eyes don’t look as sad as before, but they’re still sad; I hate that, hate that I did that to you. “Dean, why would you tell me to go when it isn’t what you want? I know it isn’t.”

I take your face in my hands and try to memorize how beautiful you are, in case the day comes when I can’t see you anymore. In case you and Sam can’t save me, I know you’ll try, but…. “Because I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared I’ll hurt you, and….” Wait. “The baby. When did it happen? Did I have this thing on my arm? Is the baby….?”

“It was before,” you tell me. “The baby’s okay.” I let go of you and scrub my hand down my face. Then I turn and brace my hands on each side of me on the bed. This is why I shouldn’t have kids. All this fucked up shit that is my life should never come anywhere near a kid.

“What if it hadn’t been, Y/N? I could have infected our child with this evil that I’m carrying.” I can feel my own eyes filling up with tears. I could have hurt our baby, just because of who I am. I lower my head and cover my face with my hand. I wish I could hide from you. I feel so ashamed.

All that shame is mixed up with something else, a fierce protective love for you and the baby you’re carrying. I don’t even know what’s right for you anymore. I don’t know what to do..

I feel your arm go around me, and your voice is still the sweetest sound I could possibly hear. For some reason, you’re still here talking to me even though I’m a danger to you and the baby. “Dean, you won’t hurt me; you won’t hurt either of us. We’ll find a way to get that mark off your arm. We will.”

I want to believe you, but I can feel it burning. That goddamned mark is burning now. This should be one of the sweetest moments of my life. You just told me I’m going to be a father, and I can feel the mark. It won’t let me forget about it, not for an instant. It has intruded on something which should have been between us.

You put your hand over mine that’s still covering my face and move it to rest in your lap. “Dean, do you want to feel the baby?” Your voice is full of hope; I hear it.

Feel the baby. How can you trust me so much? “Can...can I do that? Isn’t it too soon?”

You smile for the first time since I walked into our room. “Well, it’s too soon to feel it move, but you know it’s there.” You lift my hand from your lap and put it on your stomach. My baby is in there. I can’t help it. I smile too.

Knowing there’s a life inside you that we made makes me feel something I can’t begin to explain. This feels like an even greater responsibility than saving the world from an apocalypse. How do I fulfill that responsibility with this fucking mark on my arm? It’s too much.

I leave my hand where it is on your stomach, lay down, and put my head on your lap. You have something so precious inside you. I move my hand a little so I can kiss the center of your stomach. “Sweet baby, I love you.” Just like that, I said the words I thought I couldn’t say, and everything I’ve tried to keep pushed down inside me came pouring out.

I cried there with my head on your lap, cried because I’ve dragged you both into this mess with me, cried because I need to be a father to my child. I want to be, but what if I’m not here for him? Or her? What if I’m not even here to see the baby born? What if the mark has taken me already?

Cas will take care of it. I told him to kill me if it came to that. Sam can’t do it; he won’t ever do it. A sob rips out of me. I want to see my baby grow up.

I feel your fingers running through my hair. I never wanted you to see me like this. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Dean, it’s okay.” You’re still running your fingers through my hair. Your touch is so soft, just like you, soft and good. “You don’t have to do this alone, Dean. You never had to do it alone. We love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” I circle my arms around your waist and hold on. I don’t ever want to let you go.

You take your hand out of my hair and slide it down my back, rubbing back and forth. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I finally stop crying; and your hand stops moving.

“C’mere, Dean.” I can feel you shifting your position, and I sit up so you can move. You lay down on the bed, your head on the pillow, and hold your arms out to me. “C’mon.”

I lay down next to you with my head on your shoulder. You start stroking your fingers through my hair again. “Close your eyes, Dean.”

So close, no matter how far

Forever trusting who we are

And nothing else matters

I want to stay here like this forever with nothing but the feel of our arms around each other and the sound of your gentle voice singing.

Never opened myself this way

Life is ours; we live it our way

Oh, these words I don’t just say

And nothing else matters

You make me feel calm. I believe you when you make me feel like this. I believe it can be okay.

Trust I seek and I find in you....

I dream about you, and in my dreams there is no mark. There’s only us and a little girl with green eyes and a smile like yours. We’re happy.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @asthesunwentdown @vulgar-library @thinkinghardhardlythinking @petitgateau911

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

#make me feel bingo #spnfluffbingo #dean angst #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean oneshot

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baconcheeseburger · 4 years ago

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It killed you just the same

Summary: Dean runs into a shapeshifter while he is out grabbing some food. The shifter changes his apparence and changes into you. Dean manages to capture and kill it, but at what cost?

Pairing: MoC!Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, regret, hurt / comfort, does this shit count as whump?, sad!Dean (oh boy did I hurt the poor guy, I’m so sorry),

Word count: 3203

A/N: Finally! First half (and a short bit at the end) is in Dean’s POV, second half is in Reader’s POV. Both are written in first-person. This was written for @herstarburststories‘s follower celebration. My prompt was ”You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same” Banner and divider were made by me.

Dean’s POV:

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My chest is rising and falling like crazy, my lungs are burning so much as if I had just ran non stop for three miles and at the same time I feel like I'm suffocating. I try not to breathe too deep. Try not to inhale the sickening scent that lingers in the old empty factory building I am standing in.

As much as I want to, I just can't bring myself to tear my eyes away. I try to look away with all the strength I have in me, but I just can't do it. My eyes are glued to the limb body in front of me. The small frame is covered in blood from head to toe, the skin cut open in so many places by a knife. My knife. Fuck, there is so much blood….

I have to turn away from this, urgently. This whole thing has already been hard enough, why do I have to torture myself even more? Why do I have to keep staring at the body, keep staring at the damage I have done?

Maybe, deep down, I know that I deserve it, deserve the pain. Deserve to break myself more and more. After everything I have done - and haven't done. I always knew that there would be no happy ending for me, that I would never be happy, or even deserve to be happy. Until Y/N came into my life. I thought that maybe, maybe, I could get some small piece of happiness.

It is so quiet in here, I can hear the blood that is still running over her hand and fingers drip into the puddle of blood around the chair on the concrete floor.

I slowly raise the hand I am holding the bloody knife in and try to wipe it clean on my sleeve. The metallic yet somehow slightly sweet smell creeps its way deeper into my nose and my stomach turns at the thought of whose blood it is. Well, not exactly, but my mind just can't wrap around the fact that it technically isn't her blood, that it isn’t her I killed just moments ago.

The mark is burning hot on my arm, somewhat satisfied yet screaming for more. But my whole body is in pain and at the same time I feel so numb, I almost don’t recognize its pull. I know my thoughts are racing, I can feel them racing around in my head, but I can’t make out what I am thinking. I have no idea. Everything is blurry and yet so clear.

I find myself back in the Impala. Sitting in the front seat and staring out of the front window. One hand on the wheel while I absently claw into my forearm with the other, where the mark still burns. I have no idea how I got in here or how I did everything I had to do in the last thirty minutes. I somehow managed to burn her body - no dammit, its body! - and got rid of every evidence. My body on autopilot the whole time, my mind blank.

This must have been the most fucked up thing I ever had to do. My worst possible fear had become reality tonight. I had, kind of, turned into my biggest fear. Ever since I took the mark and first felt its effects, I am scared to death that I could hurt her, could kill her. In the beginning I even considered sending her away, getting her out of my life, out of harm's way. And I tried. I really tried, believe me. I pushed her away, ignored her and practically treated her like shit, but she stayed with me. Was there for me. Never left my side.

I take a deep shaky breath while my eyes flutter shut. I let my head sink down onto the steering wheel and press my forehead into the leather. I try my best to keep the gruesome images out of my mind, but I fail horribly. I see it over and over again. The pained expression on her face when I stuck the silver knife into her stomach, her pleading Y/E/C eyes filled with tears, her begging and her scratchy voice after all the screaming. I don’t think I will ever be able to forget this.

My throat hurts and my ears are ringing from a scream I didn’t even realize I let out.

I reach into my jacket to grab my keys, but it’s empty. So is the other side. When I can’t find them in the pockets of my jeans either I start to panic. Please God, don’t make me go back in there. Please, please. My eyes search through the interior. Maybe I dropped them. Or I put them on the dashboard. Or maybe I… A relieved sigh leaves my lips when I see them in the ignition. Fuck, I have to calm down so I can get away from here. I just want to leave, want to be back home, want to be with her. Need to be with her. There are no words for how relieved I am that the bunker isn’t far away.

I turn the keys and Baby’s purring instantly calms me down a bit. Not much, but enough so I can drive home safely. I turn her around and drive back as fast as I can.

The smell of blood gets thicker and thicker in here the longer I drive. I open the window as soon as it gets too much, but as it turns out, that was a bad idea. The air that comes in just stirs it up, makes it worse. I jerk the wheel violently to the side, stop the car with screeching tires and open the door. My knees hit the asphalt, I fall forward and start to heave.

When I’m sure I will no longer throw up I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and let my back fall against the side of the Impala. Tears are burning in my eyes, fighting their way down my face. I bury my face in my hands and let go. Let all the pain I am feeling out.

Everything is blurry. I don’t know if I am still crying or if it's the result of the state I’m in. The numbness never left.

Y/N’s POV:

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I stir awake and lift my head from the book that I still hold in my hands. I must have fallen asleep while I waited for Dean to come back. Speaking of him, what time is it? He should be back by now, he just wanted to grab some beer and burgers.

With a long, loud yawn I turn to my back and stretch. When I roll my head around to ease the pain in my neck, my gaze falls to the door and every bit of sleepiness left in my body is gone. I gasp at the sight before my eyes and immediately jump to my feet.

Dean stands in the door, covered in blood, shaking and crying. My heart dropped. God, what happened to him?

“Dean! What happened? Are you okay?” I run to him and start to roam his body with my hands, searching for any injuries, but except for a few scratches and bruises on his face I can’t find any. It's not his blood, thank god. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move. Just keeps staring at me with wide, heartbroken eyes. It’s almost as if he is looking through me. I have never seen him like that and it scares the shit out of me.

I take his face in my hands and stroke my thumbs over his cheekbones, trying to wipe his tears away. “Baby… Please say something….”

His eyes focus on mine and now he looks at me, really looks at me.

“Y/N…” Dean’s voice isn’t louder than a whisper, almost inaudible, but I am still able to hear all the pain in his voice. His face twists in pain and he leans forward, crashing me against him in a tight grip. He buries his face into my neck and starts sobbing. Before I can react his legs give a way, pulling me to the floor with him.

“Dean!”

I reach my arms around his back and hold him as tight as I can. My heart is breaking with every sob that shakes through his body. I have never seen him so broken. He doesn’t say a word, just grabs me tighter and tighter, clutching onto me like a drowning man.

As much as I want to know what happened to him, I don’t push him any further. Instead I hold him and brush through his hair, try to give him as much comfort as I can.

It took Dean a long time to compose himself enough to talk about the incident.

He tells me that he heard a scream near the parking lot of the diner he wanted to get the burgers from. He followed the sound, only to find a young girl - not older than seven or eight - laying motionless on the pavement, a man standing over her with a bloody knife in his hand. He had slid the kids throat, in the middle of the day in some kind of dark alley. When he saw Dean he grimaced and took off. Dean followed him to an abandoned factory, where he found the appetizing slime pool of shifter skin. And after some time searching around he had found him, but he had changed his appearance. Apparently the shifter knew who Dean was, knew who we were. He had changed into me.

After Dean ends I swallow hard and try to blink away the tears that are trying to escape my eyes. For a while I am just sitting there with him on the floor in the door frame, holding him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I help him stand up and when I am sure he is standing straight I pull him with me.

We slowly make our way to the bathroom and when we are there I open the door and let him walk in. I close the door behind us and when I turn around I see him standing in the middle of the room. His hands are still shaking, but otherwise he stood still, not making a single move to undress himself.

I close the space between us and cradle his face again, my thumbs brush over his cheekbones to get rid of the tears that were still running down. His eyes flutter a bit and with a shuddering breath he slightly leans into my palm. I slide my hands down his neck and push them over his chest and shoulders to pull the dirty, bloody jacket off him, throwing it carelessly to a side where he doesn't have to see it.

While I help him undress Dean is stealing glances everytime he thinks I don't see it. But I do and the expression in his eyes let my heart break even more. I wish I could take it all away from him, could take away his pain, his guilt. His fucking mark. I would take it myself in a heartbeat, but he would never let me do that. And I get that. If it would be the other way around, I wouldn’t either… God how I wish we could get rid of it. But we still haven’t found a fucking way.

When he’s left in a shirt and boxer shorts I face the shower, turn it on and set the water to a high temperature. The hot water starts to fog, which slowly starts filling the bathroom.

After I help Dean out of the rest of his clothes I take his hand into mine and guide him under the stream. He places his hands on the tiles and leans forward, head hanging low and water running down his broad shoulders and back.

I fish for his favorite showergel and shampoo out of the drawer where we keep all our shower stuff to bring it with me into the shower. I undress myself, my clean clothes piling up on his bloody ones. Another attempt to make him not see them.

Before I step into the cabin as well I wait for a moment, let him have a minute alone. I watch his shoulders rise and fall in shuddering motions, watch the water drops roll down his skin.

Dean pulls his right hand away from the wall and buries his face into his palm. His left hand clenches into a fist.

I step behind him and squeeze some of the shower gel into my hands. “��M gonna touch you now, ok?”, I whisper, not really awaiting an answer if I had to be honest. I don’t think he really heard me either, but I wanted to let him know nonetheless, not wanting to startle him.

After I rubbed the gel between my palms I begin to spread it over his shoulders, running my hands up and down his back and press my thumbs down to knead his sore muscles. The more time passes, the more he seems to relax. At least I thought so, until I hear a sound over the patter of the water. I almost don’t register it, but when I feel Dean shaking more again, feel his shoulders quivering, I know what the sound is. Know, he is crying. Know, he is breaking into even smaller pieces than he had already been shattered before.

I place my forehead between his shoulder blades and wrap my arms around his middle, spread my hands over chest and stomach and press my body against his back. It hurts me so much to see him like that, to know that I can’t do anything to take the pain away and make it better.

“Dean. She killed someone, she killed a child”, I whisper, my eyes closed. “You had to kill her; you had to kill ‘me’. But it killed you just the same, and that’s why you have to remember that it was a shapeshifter. A monster. Not me, not the real me.” I press my lips against his skin, plant kiss after kiss on his shoulders and neck, trying to calm him down. "It wasn't me." I squeeze him before I loosen my grip on his body and move in front of him, my hands never leaving his torso. He bites on his bottom lip, closes his eyes and turns his head away, his face twisted in pain.

“Look at me, Dean.” I lift my hands to cup his cheeks. "Please, baby.”

He takes a deep breath and turns his head back, hesitantly opening his eyes, revealing a raging storm of emotions.

“I am here, you hear me? I am here, right here - with you - and I am alive. I'm here to stay. I know, you think otherwise, but even with this god-forsaken mark on your arm, you won’t hurt me. You would never hurt me, not in a million years. No matter what.”

Dean’s POV:

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God, I love her so much. What have I done to deserve this woman in my life? I admire this about her, her optimisms and that she always sees the good in people, but how can she stand here and be so damn sure that I won’t hurt her? I am no good, nothing but a killing machine. Evil. Rather sooner than later she will die and her blood will be on my hands. She should run as fast and far as she can; as long as she is still able to.

I can’t do or say anything. I just look at her, look into her Y/E/C eyes. My heart is clenching so hard it hurts again, even though it is a different - a good - kind of pain. I lean forward and press my lips to hers and try to fight the sigh that is trying to escape my throat.

Shortly after we step out of the shower cabin. Y/N tells me to wait so she could get some towels, so I just stand here, feeling lost. Until my eyes land on the pile of clothes that isn’t laying too far away from me. Her clothes almost fully cover mine, but I can see my jacket peeking out under them. As if an invisible string is pulling me into the direction I begin to walk towards the pile. I get down and rummage through the clothing until I find what I am looking for.

I’m already standing again when Y/N comes back, a slight smile on her lips when she steps closer and puts one of the towels on my head and starts to rub over my hair. The object in my hand behind my back feels heavy.

She is so concentrated on drying my hair, that she doesn’t notice that I am staring at her. When she does though, she smirks. “What?”

Without saying another word I move my hand in front of me. She glances down and immediately looks back up with wide eyes, shock in her face.

And then I plunge forward. Her body collides with the hard wall behind her and she gasps. A silent scream written all over her face as the first blade pierces her skin, gliding through her flesh like butter. There is blood flowing out of the corner of her mouth and she tries to say something, but nothing but a gurgling sound leaves her lips.

Fascinated I watch the life slowly leave her eyes; and when they roll back and her body goes limp… I just smile.

“Y/N, NO!!”

With a loud scream I shoot up. It takes a second, but I can make out where I am. I’m in my - our - room, sitting in bed. My shirt is sticking to my skin and drenched in sweat.

Y/N jerks up, about to grab her gun from the nightstand to defend herself. As soon as she sees me, she looks worried.

“Dean? What’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

I can just look at her. This fucking nightmare had felt so real. I can still feel the blade in my hand, can still smell the blood.

When I don’t answer she lifts her hand and brushes over the side of my head. “You okay, baby?”

I shake my head, not able to say a word.

Y/N scoots closer to me and brings me down with her, pulling my head to her chest. I instantly wrap my arms around her waist and pull her as close as I can and let her heartbeat calm me down.

“Shh… It’s okay.” Her hands come up and she starts to stroke over my arm and through my hair. “I’m here. It was just a dream, everything is okay.”

Tags: @akshi8278

#starburstsnewmilestone #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #bacon wrote a thing #mine #my writing

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katymacsupernatural · 5 years ago

Text

No More

MoC Dean x Reader

1400 Words

Written For: @spndarkbingo, @teamfreewillbingo

Squares Filled: Addiction (Dark), Leather Jacket (TFW)

Summary: Y/N is the one Dean needs the most while fighting off the effects of the Mark. But it quickly becomes too much.

Warnings: Lots of angst, mentions of addiction, abuse, physical, mental, nothing too graphic

It was so hard to see the pitying looks from your two closest friends Sam and Cas as you scurried past them, just a whisper of the girl you used to be. It made it that much more difficult to even stay in the same room, knowing exactly what would happen if you did.

It wasn't their fault. They were just as agonized over what was happening, but you were the one traumatized by it. The one who couldn't sleep at night in fear….

"Y/N, stop," Sam pleaded with you. You could hear the pain in his words, matching the pain that radiated through your defeated body. Tears slipped down your cheek as you shook your head, knowing you couldn't face them. Because the second you did, you would break down. And you couldn't.

"Y/N," Cas sighed. "Please. We just want to help you."

Shaking your head, you continued down the hallway, your shoulders slumped in defeat.

Dean's door was barely open, the light shining through the sliver. Making sure your footsteps were no more than a whisper, you passed by, planning on heading to the safety of your room.

Your heart raced when Dean cleared his throat, the sound of a glass bottle hitting the nightstand echoing through to you.

Already in panic mode, you tiptoed as fast as you could, past his room and down to yours, shutting the door as quietly as you could before taking a deep breath.

Now that you were in the safety of your room, you were able to calm down. Flicking on the light switch, you stopped in front of your dresser, intent on changing into pajamas and sleeping the evening away.

The reflection in the mirror, your reflection, was almost unrecognizable. Dark circles stood out under red-rimmed eyes. Your lip was swollen and darker than the grapes Sam had just brought back from the store. Your hair was a ratted mess on top of your head.

The shirt you were wearing was two sizes too big. It actually belonged to Dean, and normally that was a comfort. Not anymore. Not it was a reminder that you were a prisoner, an escape he needed when the mark became too much.

Lifting your shirt up, you winced at the mixture of green and yellow covering one side, grateful to see it finally fading away.

It was so hard, seeing all of these marks on your skin. Sure, Dean might not have raised a hand to you, but they were a result from him all the same. Turning from his temper, running away when he became too much. Running into the corner of his dresser, or pulling away from his grasp.

"Y/N," Dean whispered from the doorway. Startled, your shirt dropped from your grasp as you instinctively looked for a way to keep yourself safe. Dean seemed contrite, the proud hunter standing there with bent shoulders and a heartbroken look upon his face. His hand clutched a half-empty whiskey bottle, his knuckles skinned and bleeding. From what, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t surprised.

"Are those from me?" He asked.

What could you say? They hadn't officially come from his hands, but the anger and rage the mark fed him had brought them to you. So wasn't it the same? "Dean, I don't blame you," you spoke softly, not wanting to anger the sleeping beast that was the mark of Cain. "When the mark takes over….,"

"Did my hand do that?"

"No," you sighed. "It's my fault. I was scared, and I ran. Not always watching where I was going."

Dean took a deep long sip of whiskey. He drank it like water, not even wincing as it burned down his throat. But you didn’t expect any different. After all, whiskey had been his vice for quite some time, quickly turning into an addiction to keep the Mark at bay. But it only seemed to ignite it, making it worse down the road. “Y/N, it is my fault. And the stupid Mark. I’m so freaking sorry. You know I never want to hurt you.”

Tears trickled down your cheek, your heart aching for him. He was hurting, but so were you, and you couldn’t go to him. Not while he had the Mark. He was unpredictable, and the thought of what those hands could do had you staying where you were, hiding near your dresser. You kept your words calm and low, not wanting to risk angering the mark. “Dean, it’s okay. Why don’t you go rest?”

He shook his head, gulping down more of the amber liquid, his eyes turning hard and unyielding. “Damn it Y/N, I’ve said I’m sorry! What more do you want?”

He threw the whiskey bottle across the room, and you watched helplessly as it smashed into the brick wall beside you. Shattered glass knicked your skin, whiskey stung your eyes as you cringed away. “Dean, I don’t need anything else,” you whispered, watching as he blocked the only exit out of here. “You’re all I need.”

“I just love you so much,” he slurred, his body wavering as he leaned back against the doorframe. “You’re the only one I can count on.”

“That’s not true,” you argued, watching as his movements turned heavy and slow. Not sure how much whiskey he had in his system, you stayed back. “You have Sam and Cas. They’re here for you. We’re all here for you. We’re trying to find a way to get rid of the Mark. I know it’s taking longer than…,”

“It’s never going away,” he muttered, pushing away from the door, heading straight for you. “This Mark is burned onto not only my arm but also my soul. I’m cursed until the day I die.”

You opened your mouth to try and placate him when he suddenly wobbled in his spot, falling to his knees. “What did you do to me?”

“I did nothing,” you exclaimed. You could see Sam and Cas standing at the door, watching silently. “Dean, we all just want to help you.”

Dean mumbled as he fell forward, landing unconscious on the rug of your room. As soon as he was down, Sam came rushing into your room. “Y/N, quick, grab your bag.”

“Sam?”

Cas was checking on Dean as Sam opened up your closet. “Y/N, you’re the one that Dean keeps going back to. The one that he will keep hurting until it’s too late. I can’t have that. So Cas and I are going to get you somewhere safe. Please don’t argue.”

You wanted to. You hated rushing off when he needed you the most. But Sam’s words were true. Sure, Dean had yet to lay a finger on you. But with the mark, and his addiction to whiskey, you knew it would only be a matter of time. “Promise me the second things change, I can come back.”

Sam nodded, and you quickly filled your duffle bag with clothes and your most valued possessions. Dean lay on your rug, snoring softly as you stepped past him. Your heart yearned to press your lips against his cheek once more, but you refused to take the chance. “Goodbye Dean,” you whispered, following Sam to the garage. Cas was staying behind, and Sam climbed into the driver seat of the rusted old pickup he chose to drive. You hesitated for a moment, and that’s when you saw it. Dean’s leather jacket. Dusty and forgotten, it sat beside the motorcycle. Dean had long since stopped wearing it, but still kept it around. Picking it up, you could smell the familiar gun powder and musk, and you wrapped it around yourself before climbing in beside Sam.

“Ready?” He asked, but you didn’t answer. Because you weren’t ready to leave your life and the man you loved behind. But this seemed like the only thing you could do. At least for now. Shaking your head silently, you let the tears slip down your cheek before they landed on the leather, and you promised yourself. You would not stay away long. You would continue to look, and hopefully one day you would have your Dean back again.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bebravekeeponfighting @bi-danvers0 @brindz30 @burningcoffeetimetravel @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666

Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @maui137 @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanthaharper2018 @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @wecantgiggleitsafandom @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen

#spndarkbingo #teamfreewillbingo #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #spn fanfic #dean fanfic #dean x y/n #dean winchester angst

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kai-borg · 5 years ago

Text

VV finds, Ebay grab unboxings, and more bio-related things: Part 3 - Mocs

And now’s where we get into the real meat of these posts. The real filler. That quencher for an appetite I so rarely feed due to my terrible laziness. MOCS!

For the most part the ones in this aren’t that special beyond one who managed to enter my hall of favourite personal mocs. Beyond that they’re just some basic characters, a rather fun little... ‘concept, and a pair managed to spawn a minor joke-’headcanon�� for me.

Firstly I give you, ‘Toa’ Elnas:

Name: Elnas

Element: Iron

Gender: Male

Species: ‘Toa’

Kanohi: Kualsi

Weapon/s: Spear

Bio: Elnas is an interesting character for a Toa. Ancient in build, speech, and what little wisdom he gives, and uncaring, distant, and near disdainful of those around him in personality to a degree even a Toa such as Kopaka would find him... cold.

Despite this Elnas does still protect those under his watch, mercilessly so. Any who dare to attack what is ‘his’, to disturb him, quickly find that they will never be able to attempt such again.

Elnas, while a powerful a Toa, is far from one any consider ‘good’, much less a proper Toa.

When Elnas is not patrolling his village he is either studying, or collecting items and materials which he transports... elsewhere. Wherever that may be though is unknown to his wards. Al that is known is that, despite his location while he is there being unknown, it doesn’t mean his sight decreases any.

Or at least, this is the mask he lets others see.

In truth Elnas, a name cleverly come up with due to its meaning, disrupted detection (technically detection disruption (Elda + Felnas), is actually a being disguising himself as a Toa.

A being better known by the title of, Makuta Avrua, the devourer of knowledge.

While Avrua did take his current form as an attempt to escape from Teridax and his plans, a successful attempt at that, that doesn’t mean he is any better than the conquering betrayer. If anything he is worse.

Avrua, while truthfully similar in goal to Teridax, is also far different.

Avrua has, since the day of his creation, found himself obsessed with knowledge, with learning all he possibly could, and in particular everything he could find on the Great Beings. Both that about them, and from what they left their creations.

Where Teridax wishes to rule the GSR, to overtake and become one of their creations, Avrua wishes to join them, to gain such knowledge he himself can become a Great Being and do as they once did. And he will do anything it takes to gain their knowledge, and reach his goal.

Next off are these fun little two from Sidorak’s species. A duo of infiltration & elimination class dark hunters. A mated (or whatever word you might use for GSR species marriage/romance/whatever) pair to boot! Also a lil’ joke-’headcanon’ along with ‘em!

Ok, so first off comes the headcanon.

As you can see Nille (the name I’ve given to my tall, keetongu orange, green, and gold friend) is rather... ‘extravagant’ looking. Especially in comparison to his much smaller, more ‘dulled-down’ mate, Guhra.

At first, this wasn’t really planned, just started building and once I was done I realized how well, like, blatantly different the two were. Combine that with the somewhat more ‘feminine’ styled ‘hair’ I’d given to the second, smaller one of the two, and, well... that section of my brain that keeps spitting out all my weird character ideas, AU’s, and everything related started kicking! And from that emerged my newest ‘headcanon’.

Basically I kinda had this idea that, what if Sidorak’s species were kind of like peacocks, or similar birds. You know, the male’s are real colourful, flamboyant, and flashy. Also typically probably larger than the females (though this does not mean it’s by a high percent, nor that said females are any weaker (if not even stronger)), and typically try to gain a mate through lots of posturing, looks, and giving them random little (and sometimes big) gifts all in an attempt to better curry favour with them.

Heck, this even works with, and honestly kinda makes sense with Sidorak’s own courting attempts towards Roodaka.

Every scene he’s in he’s acting flamboyant in a way. Posturing, speaking, and even moving in ways oh-so purposely done to show himself off. Make him look more impressive. Draw attention to his literally polished looks.

And then there’s his gifts, such as literally giving Roodaka what basically amounted to full control of the Visorak hordes. Sure, she basically already had it, but he actually acknowledge it instead of, y’know, deluding himself that he held the actual power over them.

There’s also his promises, the way he speaks and acts around her, and quite a good bit of other little things. I mean, heck, if I really wanted I could even consider the fact they had some, like, crazy goal or whatever to rule their entire universe/world as a sort of gift to Roodaka.

Y’know, showing his dedication by literally giving her the entire world as a gift.

Though going by this logic it also means Sidorak himself was kinda gay/bi due to him, you know, going after Roodaka. One of the most bloody extravagant characters out there in the canon bionicle universe. Like, yeesh! Her build, her stance, the aura she projects, even her friggin’ voice all scream ‘extravagance’!

I dunno, I just really liked the idea for some reason once I came up with it, and couldn’t help but keep it. (Though the Sidorak bit also helped said choice. XD)

Name: Guhra

Gender: Female

Species: Steltian

Weapon/s: Dual modifiable-energy launchers

Bio: Guhra’s more the heavy hitter of the team. Surprising to some due to her difference in size to Nille (though far from it for him), though due to her less than noticeable build she does exceed in more visible/crowded infiltration work

Name: Nille

Gender: Male

Species: Steltian

Weapon/s: Hidden Y-blades/shields along his forearms

Bio: Nille, despite colour and size, is the infiltration expert of the team. His looks, and lifetime of cultivating the necessary skills and personality to be as flamboyant a gentleman as possible have lead to him being quite skilled in the necessary etiquette to easily sway higher ranking officials, steer conversations, and easily dismiss suspicions towards himself with but a few touch words, and the proper posturing.

Thirdly you have, while still a Moc, less so one built for the character than to show off an idea/concept. A rather infectious one at that.

Shown above is an example of an individual infected with a partially developed case of a disease known as the ‘Plagued Vines virus’, or, as it is more commonly referred to as, the ‘Zombie virus’.

The Plagued Vines virus is a highly infectious, fatal, highly adaptable, and near incurable disease. As shown the individual carrying a partially developed case of the ‘Plagued Vines virus’ has suffered multiple physical changes. From heavy growth of a black, oily flesh-like organic material, metallic spikes and claws, the beginnings of various, randomly positioned extra limbs, and the emergence of the virus namesake, pitch black, vine-like veins beginning to emerge from the individuals various facial orifices.

As mentioned above, the vine-like veins that emerge from an infected individuals facial cavities are where the diseases namesake comes from. This is due to them regularly being the first physical changes an infected individuals undergoes, and the full activation of the diseases mental takeover,

A Plagued Vines infection is very difficult to detect before this initial physical development. This causes most cases of it to result in a fatal conclusion even when the rare cure is developed due to the emergence of these ‘vines’ indicating the hosts brain to have already been fully consumed.

Infected individuals show little sapience, but high sentience when alone, or in groups numbering less than 20. Creating crude traps/ambush locations, plans, and being able to track prey for long distances despite attempts to cover its tracks.

In groups of 20 and above it has been noted that infected individuals begin to develop varying degrees of sapience. Allowing for even greater efficiency in gathering food, and infecting others to further increase their packs size.

Fortunately in most cases the elimination of a quarter of the packs is usually enough to highly decrease their collective sapience, and half is enough to fully erase it.

Addendum: A pack of 90 infected individuals was discovered. This pack showed a much higher sapience than even an uninfected’s average, the ability to partially vocalise words, and were developing the materials needed to create various weapons, armours, and traps.

They were quickly eliminated, removing the possibility of further pack, and collective intelligence growth, but during this it was noted near two thirds of the pack had to be eliminated before they began to show a notable decrease in sapience. Fortunately once a loss of 3 quarters was reached a full decrease was noted.

Infected individuals display notable aggression towards others of their kind not in their designated ‘pack’, and a focus more on physical consumption, with a focus on meat and metal, which has been hypothesized as necessary to further the diseases physical growths, than spreading of their infection.

In truth the only reason the infection is as dangerous as it is, having required the destruction of entire galaxies to eliminate outbreaks of it, is because of how quickly it physically overtakes infected individuals that die. Requiring mere minutes to begin physical emergence, and revival of any killed by an infected individual that aren’t quickly burned.

Due to its highly adaptable nature it is nearly impossible to find a universal cure for the virus. The disease practically rewrites its genetic structure for every planet it shows up on.

The Plagued Vines virus is even more so dangerous due to how its outbreaks begin. All of which have been noted to be started soon after a successful meteor strike on the soon after virus ridden plant.

Its origins may be unknown, but the fact that this is a truly alien disease is not, and the danger its form of spreading poses, being near undetectable before outbreak, make it one of the most dangerous viruses out there.

And last, but oh so far from least, my favourite Moc of the bunch (discounting Lhikan’s trio who’ll have their own separate post), Tolzak, ‘skakdi’ of psionics.

AAAAHHH! I just can’t help but love her so much! Her builds greebles, colours, shaping, even the way her weapons store are all just so... perfect in my mind!

And, what’s even better, is the fact that she lets me use an AU I jokingly came up with a good while back after reading a certain what-if post about swapping species sizes, and took the base concept on my own odd little route.

A little hint right here and early is, as you’ll notice, Tolzak is rather... odd looking for a Skakdi. A bit too tall. A bit too thin. A bit too... colourful. And then there’s here little... additions. Small, heel-esque structures naturally built into her feet, her odd, built in, hair like head adornment.

All things less so found in her species, than in a certain others.

Name: Tolzak

Element: Psionics

Gender: Female

Species: ‘Skakdi’

Weapon/s: Tonfa style, curved blade, & dual throwing knives

Bio: Tolzak is an outlier for her species.

Where most Skakdi are cruel, violent, and aggressive, Tolzak is surprisingly calm, sociable, and at times even gentle with others around her. This of course doesn’t mean she doesn’t mean she doesn't have, nor show said typical Skakdi attributes. If anything she can at times be even worse than most of her species.

Tolzak typically acts as a sort of... hero in a way, or more-so a mercenary for higher with strict morals, aligned only with the ‘lighter’ end of said compass, and a willingness to both take jobs, and offer a hand in additional tasks she might spot without pay if the reasoning behind such is both reasonable, and honourable enough.

Now, while such may be an odd sight for the denizens of the standard bionicle-universe, for hers it is much less so.

Yes, you’ve read that right. Tolzak is actually a displaced denizen of a different universe, though she herself didn’t know that at first.

The universe Tolzak originally came from is an... odd one. Even for one of any connection to the bio!verse.

In her universe, to put it simply, everything has been reversed in a way.

Where in the main!verse The GSR is the species home, and Bara-Magna the world they’ve fled from in a way. Where the Great Beings left themselves, and the other inhabitants of their planet to die while their creations lived and traveled. Where the Toa were heroes, the Matoran their ‘universes’ keepers, and the Makuta, and all else villains.

All has been reversed in hers.

The GSR, while existent, was made not to act as a travelling, humanoid ‘ship’ from which their creations could live. No, it was made to preserve them. The Great Beings, the Agori, the Glatorian, any who were fortunate to make it in, while the rest remained upon the devastated planet with the GB’s creations.

To act as their new world until their old could be rebuilt.

That’s where the GSR’s species came into play. The Makuta to act as rebuilders of the environment, the repopulators of animals, the various other species the more hands on/detail workers, caretakers, and spreaders of the Makuta’s creations.

They were this universes ‘heroes’.

But this left the Matoran, the Toa and Turaga, the usual heroes requiring new roles. More villainous roles.

They were the keepers of order, those who ensured everything went to the Great Beings plan, and if not, then those who would bring about a reset to it.

The reset is also where another difference between this universe, and the main differs. Where the original has its ‘world’ centered around the Ignika, the Mask of life, as that which keeps it alive, that resets it when needed, her world is centered around the Vahi, the mask of time, as its reset button.

The GB’s, upon the completion of their ‘saviours’, the GSR and their worlds rebuilders, created an additional device which they activated upon their departure.

A large, indestructible machine, hidden behind barriers only their Toa should’ve been able to pass, and designed to use their two strongest masks, the Vahi, and the Ignika, to reset all life, and the world itself back to its ‘original’ (i.e. the time of the machine’s activation) point whenever their creations begin going against their plans, and to add minor... changes to said beings in attempt to gain different results.

During these reiterations a point eventually came where the GB’s creations were made more organic, to a degree they truthfully were not that far from the remaining Agori and Glatorians in their ‘mechanics to organics’ mix.

In fact they were at such a similar level that they gained the genetic functions needed to physically reproduce in but a handful of further reiterations. A useful, and apparently permanent achievement seeing as how the GB truly had no way to otherwise repopulate the species if they died off beyond a full global reset.

But with this newfound ability soon came the possibility of hybrids.

You head that right folks! Hybrids of the various species came into being in this universe, Tolzak being one of them. A Skakdi Vortixx hybrid at that, which does help explain her physical differences in comparison to a ‘proper’ Skakdi.

Tolzak was sent to her current universe, one of the more standard ones during one of the numerous attempts at resistance seemingly every ‘reset’ has happen once the Toa are sent down to begin it.

During her 'generation’, Brutaka, Axonn, and a good number of others had defected from the Order of Mata-Nui (OOMN), the organization now dedictaed to ensuring the Great Beings wills are successfully followed, even if that means they themselves most lose all.

As is to be expected though for such a group, many tend to defect, and resist their will once it comes down to the choice of initiating a reset.

While they failed in their attempts, as was truthfully usual, Brutaka decided to attempt to save at least one member of their resistance, already fatally wounded himself, before the Toa succeeded.

He chose Tolzak. Just barely managing to drop her through a portal into a separate universe as the Toa activated the Great Beings machine. This left her, while physically unchanged beyond some ‘youthening’, mentally muddied. Much of her memories shattered, hazy, and otherwise unrecallable upon her awakening.

This is also why she so readily allowed herself to fall under the moniker of, ‘just an odd Skakdi’. At the time she herself didn’t known otherwise, and while she has regained much of her memory, having pieced together what she could, and slowly been clearing up and recalling the rest, enough to remember she is not a true member of her current universe, and her hybrid status, she still is more than ready to continue carrying said moniker.

It is truly a much easier option than attempting to explain the truth of her origins, and the actual reason behind her physical ‘oddities’.

So far Tolzak’s world has gone through near 500 000 separate reiterations, though she herself came from the 35 372nd reiteration, and upon her ‘escape’ from the world was never reborn.

Also, here’s a little bit of a closer look at her weapon storage, and just why I find it so... perfect.

I mean, heck! Look at it! Everything's perfectly aligned, her curved blade is stably positioned, and I can even fit its cross axle in right there at the top due to the Metru torso’s build!

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deanscarlett · 6 years ago

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Seeing Red

Author: Salvachester

Challenges: 1) Ash’s 4K Followers celebration @evansrogerskitten prompts: Character’s 1 person POV and the phrase “I’d follow you anywhere”. 2) @roxyspearing “The 30 Deans for 30 Years Challenge!” prompt: MOC!Dean

Characters: MOC!Dean, Reader, small appearances from Sam, Jody, OMC Andy.

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, F-word galore!, violence, mentions of masturbation, mentions of sex (nothing explicit this time), violent boyfriend (nothing too serious or descriptive), self-loathing Dean.

Additional tags: Dean's POV, hardcore pining, protective!Dean, comfort.

Word Count: 3190 words

Description: The Mark of Cain has Dean on edge, especially when someone hurts the woman he loves.

A/N: This was quite a challenge to write, and definitely out of my comfort zone since 1st person POV is not something I usually write or read (few exceptions apply, of course ;)); and it’s also REALLY hard, as a woman, to get in the headspace of a man and make him sound accordingly. I hope I did it right. Especial thanks to Mimi @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog for betaing it <3 <3

Hope you guys like it! (PS: a little hint, the last 2 phrases at the end, remember how it got resolved in canon ;))

(pretend it’s MOC!Dean and not demon!dean in the gif :P)

Gif credit: my dear Pam @saucynewf ( X )

Lots of people tagged under the cut :D (you can add/remove yourself from the list here)

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To be honest, I brought this shit on myself; I thought that doing right by her would make things easier, better. Granted, it took every fucking bit of willpower to play dumb when she had hinted a move at me; and it hurt so fucking much to watch that hint of sadness cross her eyes when I faked not catching her drift, silently shooting her down. But I had no choice, I can't be with her, not as long as this damn tramp stamp is on my arm. Y/N deserves better, and I ain't it.

And now, she's dating this one guy, and I-I can't put my finger on it, but I don't like him. Sammy thinks I'm just being jealous; okay, yes, of course I'm jealous, he gets to be with her, but this isn't just about that. There's something off about this dude, and it's making me crawl up the walls.

She's been going out with him for nearly a month now, like, a couple of dates here and there. Nothing serious, not like she's ever gonna settle down with him; hunters don't settle down. But I ain't dumb, I know they're fucking, and it's driving me fucking crazy. Everytime she comes back to the bunker in the morning, I get this intense need to go find some nasty to hunt and take my frustration out on it. Which is why we've been hunting like maniacs lately.

He gets to touch her, feel her, kiss her; meanwhile, I'm here playing with my junk all by myself. But what the fuck am I gonna do? I practically shoved her into the first guy that crossed her path. So yeah, I brought this shit on myself and I can't do anything about it.

I didn't hear her arrive this morning, and I'm about to explode. She's not home yet and I don't fucking like it. I need coffee. Yeah, coffee is not gonna calm me down, I know that, but who the fuck cares? It's either coffee or break someth-

Wait, she is home; I can hear her talking with Sam in the kitchen, and now that I see her, she's wearing her pajamas. Odd.

Odd but satisfying, not gonna lie. She usually spends the night with him, but not this time.

Good.

Yeah, I'm an asshole, sue me, I should be happy for her but there's this part of me that won't let me. Maybe it's my hunch, maybe it's the Mark, I don't fucking know.

But what I do know is that the air in the room is heavy; Sam looks too damn serious and worried, almost angry; and for some damn reason, I don't make it to the room. Every nerve in my body is on edge, and I don't fucking know why.

And then I see it, that shine on her face that she's icing; and I just know he did it to her.

I'm gonna kill him, I'm gonna beat the everliving shit outta him, and then I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. Nobody touches Y/N and lives to tell the tale.

I guess they both heard me tear out of the garage like a bat out of hell, because neither of them won't stop texting and calling. I'm not gonna pick up, I know they are trying to stop me for my own sake, but I don't fucking care. Nobody hurts my girl. Nobody.

All things considered, I suppose it's a good thing I dropped her off at his place last week, or else I wouldn't know where he lives.

For fucks sake, Sam, stop calling, you are not gonna change my mind. Now that I think it, I should have snagged her keys, bet he's not far behind. Pedal to the metal it is.

Andy, that's this motherfucker's name. He barely opens the door before I'm kicking it down and clocking him. The bloody scratches on his face don't go unnoticed. Good, she did that, atta girl.

"I'm gonna kill you, you son of bitch!"

He can't even reply, I'm not letting him, he's bloody and swollen and trying to fight back. But he can't, he doesn't have my training or my experience, nor this Mark that seems to fuel me like the best steroid in the world.

I'm seeing red and he ain't got nothing on me.

"Dean! Stop, you're gonna kill him!"

Wow, you are very observant, Sam. Now, let me get back to pummeling this asshole.

To be fair, I didn't even notice him arrive, nor that he brought Jody along. What for, I don't fucking know. I don't care, she can arrest me if she wants, I don't care. She can arrest me after I'm done, I don't ca-

"Dean, please, please stop!"

He brought Y/N? Why they fuck, Sam? She shouldn't be here, she shouldn't be anywhere near this jackass.

"Please, for me."

Her words stop me cold for a moment, long enough for the three of them to pry me off this guy. I chance a glance at her, and the fear and pain in her puffy red eyes feels like someone threw my heart into the trash compactor and turned it on.

It's unbearable. She's afraid of me. This can't be happening.

We stare at each other in silence; offhandedly, I hear Jody tell the scumbag that pressing charges against me won't do him shit, especially since he has several records of battery. That last bit registers in the back of my mind, and I'm ready to go again, but I just can't pull away from her, not when she grabs my hand and guides me to the car.

The ride back home is hell, not only because Sam won't stop talking, but also because Y/N's not with us, she drove off in her car to drop Jody off back in Topeka. I guess she wanted to talk with her; I hope it's just that and not fear to be alone with me. Please don't let it be that.

So Sam's calmed down a bit, and I guess he understands why I did it, and to some extent, he agrees, even if he won't admit it. I know my little brother better than anyone, and I know he's trying to not encourage violent behavior.

Well, that ship has sailed, and let's face it, this is nothing compared to what happened the last time I snapped like this. Those creeps had it coming, even more than this Andy jackass.

But you see, this asshole hurt my girl, not some chick I saw, what, two times?

My girl. I should probably stop calling her that, because she's not really my girl, and, fuck, it hurts.

She hasn't returned and I'm climbing the fucking walls, again. It doesn't help that Sam keeps insisting I go shower to cool off and wash the blood off of me. He's probably right, I should do that.

I can somewhat deal with not being with her, but she's afraid of me and I can't fucking stand it. I'm losing her; soon she's gonna move out, I can feel it, and I don't like it. How the fuck am I supposed to protect her if I'm not around her?

Yes, I fucking know she's a hunter and can defend herself, okay? But I can't help feeling this overwhelming need to protect her. Especially now. That shine on her face? That's on me. It's on me because I pushed her away. She wouldn't have it if it wasn't for me.

I fucking love the water pressure of the bunker, I could spend hours under it. You know what would make it even better? Share it with her. Oh man, to feel her all wet and warm, pressed up against me; touch every inch of her skin. Hear her moan my name over and over again… Okay, I guess we're doing that.

Huh. Didn't even notice I busted my knuckles.

Well, that certainly took some of the edge off, but fuck, I need a drink. Guess it's time to crack that bottle of Black Label; been meaning to open that one for a special occasion. I guess 'about to lose the girl that keeps you up at night' qualifies as a special occasion.

Or not.

She's home and beat me to it. How the hell did she find it? Damn it, sweetheart, that was for a special occasion! Sigh, I can't be mad at her. I mean, look at her, all sad and unfocused, lost in thought. How could anyone hurt something so beautiful? I don't fucking get it.

"How are you feeling?" I hate asking such a pointless question, I know the answer, I know she's not fine, but how else do I talk to her after what happened? I don't want her to be afraid of me, I hate it. This Mark is turning me into a monster, I know that. I don't want her to see me like that.

"I'm okay."

No you're not, you can't fool me Y/NN. Fuck, this whiskey is good.

"If you say so…" Shit fuck, why did I say that? She's gonna think I don't care, or that I'm angry. Yup, she's giving me her death glare.

Damn it, I didn't notice her split lip before. I'm gonna kill that son of a-. Breathe, count to ten. For her. One… Two…

"I'm sorry, I'm still running on fumes." I need to know. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Yeah, I know the cliff notes of what happened. But I want the full story, I want every detail, I need to feel her pain. Take it from her and make it mine, because it's my fault she got hurt. I got her into this mess.

"Please?" God, her face is so soft.

This could go either way. Either she tells me or not, and I'm not sure how I'll react. Probably gonna head back out there and go another round of punch-the-fucker.

Oh, she's gathering herself. Here we go.

"So, um, we were having dinner and he started asking all sorts of questions about you guys. At first I went along, very vaguely of course, nothing about our trade, he still thinks I just happen to be unemployed. But then I noticed it wasn't because he was honestly interested or anything, but rather… fishing for something."

Oh you sly fuck, testing to see if there was any competition, huh.

"Anyways… he dropped it for a while, and then out of nowhere he starts saying I should start looking for a place for myself..."

Over my dead body, jackass.

"... Nevermind I'm 'unemployed', right?" God, she's fucking adorable when she does the air quotes.

"So when I tell him no, he starts raising his voice, telling me that I shouldn't be living with two guys, that I should leave and go with him. As you can guess, I got mad and told him to fuck off."

I need another drink, or so god help me.

"So next he starts accusing me of probably sleeping with you both and calling me a whore."

Count to ten, Dean, count to fucking ten.

"So I slap him. Never imagined he would hit back. Next thing I know I'm kicking him in the balls, scratching his face and getting out of there as fast as I could."

The only reason I don't get back out there is because I don't want to upset her even more. I can't leave her alone when she's like this, which reminds me… Where the fuck is Sam? Oh well, whatever.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, wish I've done something sooner."

Shit, I spoke too much and now she wants to know what I mean. How do I explain it to her without giving too much away? I can't tell her the Mark pulses like crazy when she's in some kind of danger. She'll know why it happens, I can't burden her with that. She deserves better, she doesn't deserve a monster like me.

Think, Dean, think!

"My gut told me he was bad news from day one." Fuck, no, shouldn't have said that. She's gonna ask why I didn't warn her, and with all fucking reason. Fix it, you idiot! "Usually, I'd trust my instincts, but they've been out of whack ever since I got the Mark."

Lies, they haven't been wrong since I got it, not even once; but she doesn't know that.

"It's not your fault, Dean." Why am I relieved she's not being sincere? Easy, because it is my fault, and I'm fucking glad she sees it too.

"Well, I'm the one picking 'em, ain't it? And I'm not exactly trophy girlfriend material either, so there's that."

Oh hell to the fucking no. Don't you fucking dare think that about yourself, sweetheart.

"Don't say that, Y/NN, that's not true, you are an amazing woman. You are smart, badass, beautiful… You could get any guy you want; they'll be lucky to have you."

I should fucking learn to shut my trap, or think twice before speaking. Turns out, wording is everything. As Credence would say, there's a bad moon on the rise. She's fuming now.

"Really? Then how come I don't have the guy I want, huh? If I'm so awesome, huh? Do me a favor and never��tell me I can have any guy I want, because that's a fucking lie."

Well, fuck, she got me; she cornered me and I don't know how to get out of this one without lying some more and hurting her feelings.

"Look, Dean, I'm not mad you don't feel that way about me, no one can control that…"

Oh, honey, if only you knew…

"... I'm mad that you used that stupid phrase on me. That phrase is bullshit, it's a fucking lie. I hate being lied to."

Dude, react; say something to her, anything!

"I think it's best if I go. Stay with Jody 'til I find a place to live. I can't do this anymore."

I always ruin everything; I knew this was gonna happen, I knew it.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

Do something! Don't let her go, you can't lose her; she's the only thing keeping you in check. Yes, I know, ironic considering what happened today; but you get what I mean.

What's that phrase Sam pulled on me last time he caught me lying? Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth? And as it turns out, it's annoyingly fucking accurate.

"You're wrong, Y/N." Nice way to change her mind, you idiot. "I saw your move from a mile away, and, for a moment, it felt so damn right."

Well, at least she's back in the room, that's a good start, I guess.

"But then I remembered the Mark, and all the chaos and destruction it's bringing, that I'm bringing. I don't want that for you; you deserve so much better than me. I'm bad news, maybe even more than that douchebag."

"That's so not true, Dean." No no no, her voice is breaking, I can't see her like this. I should be the one soothing her, but instead she's soothing me. God, I love it when she touches my face. Every time she does it the Mark stops all the dark whispers, at least for a while.

"You saw me, how I keep snapping; what if one day I snap at you?" That's my greatest fear, being so blind by the Mark that I end up hurting her and Sammy. I could never live with myself.

"I know you won't, I trust you, Dean." And this time she is sincere. How could she trust me? I'm a fucking time bomb.

"How? Why would you? You had your fair share of violent guys today, you don't need more of that; I saw how much he scared you and… Y/NN, I saw the way you looked at me, you are afraid of me too, and I don't blame you."

Why do I tell her these things? She had a shitty day and I'm dumping my crap on her. I'm poison.

"Wait, what? No, Dean, that's not-"

"You don't have to sugarcoat it; I get it, I really do. First one jackass scared you, and then another one even worse."

I can't read her, I can't tell if she's upset, or trying to make me feel better, I hope not, I don't deserve it.

"Okay, let's clear some things up. First of all I'm a hunter, so I had much worse than a jackass punching my face. Ah ah, let me finish…"

Yes ma'am.

"... sure, it did hurt on the account that it was someone that supposedly cared for me. So no, he didn't scare me, he got me angry; hell, I only dated him for a month, so it's not a big deal either. And second… You don't scare me, Dea-"

"Yes, I do, you looked so terrified, not only earlier when I was pummelling him, but also not fifteen minutes ago when you were sitting all alone-"

If she gets any closer, I won't be able to control myself, I need to kiss her, bad.

"I'm not scared of you! I'm scared for you. I'm terrified of what may happen to you; you get so out of control that I'm afraid the next time you pick up a fight, they will fight back and get lucky. I can't go through the black eyes again. I can't."

She's right; I can't be that thing again. "Then maybe I'm the one who should leave, be locked away for the sake of everyone."

I didn't mean to say that out loud.

"Then I'd follow you anywhere. Unless, of course, you don't want to be with me; and I'm not talking about the Mark, but this." Between the way she's looking at me, and her hand now on my heart… Yeah, I'm losing this battle.

I guess, without realizing, I got closer and now she has her arms around my neck, and holy fuck, she's kissing me. Oh yeah, this is happening. Fuck this feels good, and not just in my mouth; oh fuck, I'm getting har-.

No no, don't pull away, it's not enough, need more. Oh, wait, she's not sure if I wanted to kiss her or not… Fuck yeah, of course I do!

So I let go.

I haven't felt this good since… I don't fucking know. I woke up next to her, all warm and soft, and need I say naked? Fucking hell, does she smell good. Yup, last night was definitely a highlight in so many levels. I guess sooner or later we were gonna end up like this, I just wish I'd done it sooner... Let her in, I mean; well, the other thing too, of course… It would have saved us both some grief, but it's done, we're together. I just hope I get to spend as much time as I can with her before the Mark fully takes over. Call it a dying wish, if you will.

My Dean x reader squad:

@aprofoundbondwithdean

@awhiskeywithawinchester

@buffyandangelforever

@but-deans-back-tho

@callmesweetheartifyoumeanit

@canadianspnhunter

@deandoesthingstome

@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

@deansgoddess

@sleepywinchester

@deanwinchsterr

@ellen-reincarnated1967

@eyes-of-a-disney-princess

@for-the-love-of-dean

@hidingfrommychildren

@icantfindacoolname

@impala-dreamer

@jacklesonmymind

@jensennjared

@jinkieswouldyoulookatthis

@katnharper

@kayteonline

@ladywinchester1967

@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

@littlegreenplasticsoldier

@mamapeterson

@manawhaat WHY TUMBLR WHYYY

@maradyeries

@misswhizzy

@mrsjohnsmith

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@myfand0msandm0re

@nichelle-my-belle

@ohfora67impala

@oriona75

@rizlow1

@saenalife

@sis-tafics

@sleep-silent-angel

@spnashley

@spnjensenlove02

@supernatural-jackles

@the-mrs-dean-winchester

@thing-you-do-with-that-thing

@walkingencyclopediaoffandom

@whatdoyouthinkmyjobis

@whispersandwhiskerburn

@winchester-writes

@winchesterenthusiast

@winchestersandwordprocessors

@winchestersinthedrift

#dean x reader #dean angst #dean winchester x reader #1st person POV fic #spn fanfic #spn fic #dean x Y/N #dean winchester x Y/N #moc!dean #dean's pov #dean fic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester angst #reader insert #my fiction

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117jaller · 6 years ago

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Clancer my secondary self moc is coming to a CustomBionicleWiki near you. I have more of Zepharious’ story and the completely redone Last battle of po-metru story. I’m writing more and it will be uploaded very soon so check it out!

#117jaller #bionicle #custombioniclewikia #alternate universe #lego #misplaceduniverse #toa #clancer #pez #zepharious #toa of sound #nyrah ghost #toa of iron #toa of plasma #toa metru #moc #bonkle #bonkles

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shyvioletlife · 2 years ago

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Yes!! ah I could yell about wuvvy for days honestly.

I've been trying to think more recently about what kind of conclusion I want for wuvvy going forward. I would love for her to get a chance to go a little unhinged and feral, do some wrongs, as a treat, and I get the feeling we will get to see that soon. But, beyond that. Proper resolution with rue would be nice - and with how aabria dms I doubt the avenue to that is closed - they literally just talked in adventure party about how her dming style is to give the players even more doors to juggle. At the very least wuvvy deserves a thought out apology for the Command and some sort of explanation.

But, again, beyond that?

wuvvy said herself that she doesn't actually find joy in taking on rue's tasks at the bloom, the happiness comes from being able to help rue. Its very telling - and concerning, admittedly - that wuvvy has tied her self-actualization so closely to rue's love and trust and approval to the point that she cannot suss out what would or would not bring her some happiness. the possibility of becoming the new master of ceremonies is there, as rue debates leaving the position, but while she would be technically adept at being a new master of ceremonies, it would not be a passion to throw herself into, unlike rue who presumably threw all their time and energy into the blooms from the moment they knew one was coming all the way up until the day of. (I do want to appreciate that when the Chorus suggested wuvvy take over, rue deflected the title onto the lords of the wing and argued their stance instead of entertaining the idea of wuvvy being MoC because they now know wuvvy would not find fulfillment in the position. For all the complications, rue does still care about wuvvy and wants to prevent her from getting stuck doing something that will not bring her joy)

I think at the end of the day, something needs to pretty drastically change in rue and wuvvy's dynamic to reach the kind of resolution I want and yet am failing to put words on. a healthier equilibrium needs to be reached - one where wuvvy's happiness isn't tied to how well she can serve rue and rue themself doesn't take advantage of that willingness (not out of maliciousness, but out of..comfort? theres a familiarity to being able to rely on someone for certain things, to know you can trust them, and I doubt rue's goal is to *use* wuvvy but when she is so actively willing to be there and help its hard not to accept). All I know is that as long as wuvvy remains rue's personal assistant, its going to be near impossible to de-tangle the unhealthy dynamic they are both feeding into currently.

More wuvvy thoughts but the "I want whats best for you" is the more insidious part of wuvvy's sicko mode for sure and I think that it ties into her complicated reality of being left behind. Rue was someone defined by their role as MoC (out of personal fulfilment but also for acceptance), and while the role placed undue burden on them, it was something they took immense pride in. Wuvvy has faithfully been a part of rue's identity and pride as MoC, supporting them unconditionally, protecting them when it called for that. But now that rue is no longer interested in that role, they're willingly shedding that mantle for much deserved self fulfilment, while wuvvy gets left behind. Wuvvy is a part of rue's old life, and as far as rue has indicated, has no part in their new life. The most uncharitable interpretation of her line is one of manipulation, but the way I see it it's a heartbreak and spiralling loss of personal control that comes with change, even if that change is necessary. Esp with something as central to BOTH their identities as rue being the MoC (both cause rue has never denied wuvvy's subservience either. If anything, they've taken it for granted).

I've said before in notes that I think reading wuvvy's actions as only being jealousy is too shallow. I also don't think that this is one of those unrequited loves where the angst comes from it not being reciprocated cause i haven't seen indication that that's something central to wuvvy's fulfilment (hoping aabria doesn't honk my clown nose LOL). Wuvvy willingly left her court as champion to be at rue's side as a glorified errand girl - because she loves rue and what rue stands for and rue's vision and passion and love and personhood. And in all this time she's never expressed a strong need for "reciprocated (same) 'love'", just being with rue was enough. Her devotion was enough, rue knowing her, seeing her, acknowledging her devotion (her heart) was enough - she basically expressed that this ep.

The angst comes from the depth of misunderstanding between rue and wuvvy. That rue has been with wuvvy for so long and still understands nothing about her. This esp kills me bc (looks at the camera in Chinese) to understand someone is to love someone. Hell, so much of the rue and hob romance is built on "you understand me" like do u see the parallels do u see what I see. That they'd say you're my confidante and then say "I've never truly been myself in front of anyone before". That they'd pull them aside and ask them "what fulfills you?" and wuvvy's heart breaks again. And added on with how little rue is communicating to wuvvy, there has been no assurance, no plans for their (plural their) futures, no trust to deliver the first letter, then suddenly a second as if the first didn't happen, and wuvvy is not taking it well. And to wuvvy, whom rue confides in but like.... Truly hasn't been lately, there's no process or explanation of such a huge decision. For all wuvvy knows hob fuckin bewitched rue for politics like. FOR A MAN THEY JUST MET. Also??? Rue no longer being MoC means that wuvvy no longer gets to be with rue, and as far as wuvvy understands, rue is all too happy to leave her behind. Simple and final as that.

anyways I support womens' wrongs. Especially when the person you've devoted yourself to (and has accepted your devotion while [not to sound mean but it is true] it's been convenient for them) claims to love you (and worst of all truly did love you in whatever way they did) but shatters your trust on a whim with no true apology then takes you to a ball in matching clothes because you're their little servant but you're not really their friend (and even this is complicated by wuvvy's willing subservience to rue) and maybe this wouldn't break your heart as much if they didn't say 'i love you' too.

#maybe the solution is for them to just both join the court of craft #as it is for everyone's endings this season #found family for the win always #I just want a world where wuvvy is able to express her anger and frustration and heartbreak #and also a world where she gets a happy ending #is that too much to ask #acofaf #acofaf spoilers #wuvvy my beloved

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hongism · 4 years ago

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just read the update and i think it was one of my fave chapters !! idk why but it was just really nice to read and the interactions with jongho warmed my heart <3 it’s almost 1am which is No Think™ Hours so i don’t have much to say but if you know me by now i’ll be back in your asks screaming in a day or two 😌

also! the spring semester ends soon so ive decided that i’ll reread moc before the summer semester starts ! i’ll probably want to end it all after going through all of that pain again but worth it 🤪

AH gosh yall are SPOILING ME i keep hearing this is a favorite ahh that makes me so happy sO so happy wow i love that heh im glad it was nice to read of course that means so much to me BUT it’s No Think hours over here too im running on Fumes !!!!! so feel free to come screaming whenever you like 😌💞💖 omg congrats on nearing the end of the semester !!! that’s EXCITING i’ve still got a month or so left and then i gotta register and im in disarray and don’t know what’s going on honestly but that’s the ✨college experience✨ MFDSHJF i wish you LUCK on finishing it up AND if u decide to reread i wish u luck to get thru the pain 😳

#mists of celeste #mtvyouth #asks

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yandereskies · 7 years ago

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Hello. I was wondering what a yandere!Robbie the Zombie with a tiny!S/O or a normal human S/O would be like?

Well no matter if you are tiny or not Robbie would be WAY more clingy than before, not to mention less tolerate of people coming near you. No joke, he will zombie growl at anyone who so much as looks your way.

one of the problems is that he dosnt register it as LOVE right away, not being too familiar with the feeling and just assuming you were like a close sibling to him. But as soon as someone (Chase or Marvin) explains to him the concept of love and crushes he... ok, i will be honest it kind of worried. Its a new feeling he isnt used to and not to mention its an extreme one. He is a yandere now for freak sake! But soon enough he gets used to it, using his innocent look to lure you into what you think will be an innocent and cute relationship with the zombie... oh how wrong you were...

ok, you may be saying "But yandere Robbie just sounds like normal Robbie with extra cuddles!" But thats not all. Normal Robbie stays as far away from you as possible in Zombie Mode but Yandere Robbie? No. He has his arm locked around you as he feasts on someone, forcing you not only to watch but be right next to the corpse as he devours it. You can hear every crunch, every skin and muscle tear, each growl as he devours it like a starved animal, heck! You even get some blood on yourself as he eats! Try to keep your hands out of his way! He may accidentally take a chunk out of you as well~

as for the yandere jealousy? Well... he means well but it has to be grosser than any other ego may do. He goes into a moc-Zombie Mode right away, tearing the human that dared to look at you apart but here is the twist.... he forces you to eat with him... of course at first its a simple "here.... (y/n)... eat?" But if you refuse too much or try to struggle he lets out a rage filled growl, nearly forcing the human meat down your throat and smiling as you choke it down. "See?... bad... person... good?" There is such an innocent tone in his voice, almost proud that he was able to do such a great thing for you! You do like it... r i g h t ?

he dosnt lock you up like many other Yanderes though so there is the plus! ... the only issue is that this zombie will cling to you 24/7 ... so... good luck with that!

but other than those few times he acts like he normally would in a relationship, giving you handmade gifts, drawing you adorable scribbles, small i love yous all the time, just the same adorable Robbie ... just with some new Yandere quirks!

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sinningsquire · 7 years ago

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Enlighten me

A Thranto drabble that had somehow turned into a fic.

Featuring Eli being smart, Thrawn being smarter but still becoming outsmarted for once, and my trademark made-up Chiss biology.

Also on AO3

Sparring was never something Eli disliked per se. He enjoyed the exertion, the rush of adrenaline and the way focusing on the motions and staying in the moment made his head feel lighter, his whole mind cleansed, free of doubts, expectations and frustration. He liked the slight soreness of his limbs after a good fight, loved the temporary equality of opponents on the training mat: no rank, no chain of command ruled here. People left their personas with their uniforms in the locker room, and if Eli wished, he could kick an Admiral’s ass without repercussions.

Which was exactly why he couldn’t quite enjoy sparring lessons the way he used to: he would love to win against Thrawn. Just once. Once would do.

Realistically, Eli knew the odds. The chances of winning a round of unarmed combat against Thrawn were so low that Eli was sure he’s run out of decimal places trying to write them down. The Chiss had Sith knew what training under his belt from his time of youth, then he took to the Imperial training like a Moc Calamari to water, further expanded his abilities by going through nearly every private dojo on Coruscant (on what Eli suspected was only a pretext of an investigation) and last but not least, kept himself in enviable shape by training with kriffing assassin droids, no less.

And even if Thrawn wasn’t so well trained, he was just too damn smart. What he couldn’t do by muscle memory alone, his magnificent mind executed even faster. Analysing his opponent, breaking down their strategy to the finest pieces, unerringly identifying every flaw and utilizing them in a brutally efficient fashion - that was just what Thrawn did. On the battlefield, and on the sparring mat as well.

But what Thrawn also used to say? There was no such thing as an unbeatable hand. If Eli couldn’t win either by strength alone, skill or strategy, there had to be yet another way. He just had to find it.

It’s taken him days - weeks of accumulated bruises and even more bruised ego and mounting frustration before he figured it out. How do you beat someone who has fight in their nature?

By turning their nature against them.

Admiral Thrawn was in his office when his datapad pinged with a notification that Lt. Commander Vanto has booked another training session with him after the end of the shift.

Thrawn found himself smiling as he tapped his confirmation. By all accounts he should have been disappointed at Vanto’s inability to perceive his continuous failure. Persistence was only commendable when it could actually get you somewhere. But instead of being annoyed, Thrawn was quite fond of Eli’s stubbornness.

He was also curious how long it would take Eli to realise the real reason behind his efforts. It’s become fairly obvious to Thrawn sometime around the fourth week of their regular sessions but as far, Eli seemed to be completely oblivious to his own motivations.

Well. Thrawn was nothing if not patient.

Eli carefully finished setting up his trap and then even more carefully wiped all the evidence of him ever being near the training facilities environmental settings. His plan was a literal shot in the dark but he was confident it would work, even though only once. But once was all Eli needed.

He smirked to himself. Thrawn would never see that coming.

Something about Eli was off today. Thrawn narrowed his eyes at him. He was going through his warm-up stretches, already in his training gear, neck and arms bare. Human usually gave off considerable heat compared to the Chiss, more so if they blushed, which Eli did a lot in Thrawn’s proximity, lately. But today Eli’s exposed skin seemed cold to Thrawn’s eyes.

“Are you feeling alright? Perhaps you shouldn’t be exercising if you are coming down with something.”

Eli just rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms. “I spent last four hours in the secondary engines compartment overseeing the coolant refueling,” he said. “Maintenance took down all unnecessary systems to prevent any sparking accidents. I’m going to have words with whoever thought heating was unnecessary.” He rubbed his hands together. “Anyway, I think a bit of sparring will warm me back up in no time, Sir.”

“Then I am happy to be of assistance,” Thrawn nodded slightly and assumed his customary position at one end of the mat.

It was obvious from the start that the game Eli was playing today was one of stalling. Perhaps he really was stiff from the long hours spent in less than comfortable temperature but more likely he was biding his time. Waiting for something. Contrary to his words about warming up, Eli’s movements were sparse and guarded, circling Thrawn in a wide berth and focusing on his own defence more than on getting through Thrawn’s. This timid strategy was in sharp contrast with his rather poorly hidden excitement. Eli was very confident about something, it shone through the cracks of his put-upon harmless facade, and further highlighted the trap.

Thrawn hid a smirk. This was a new development and not an unwelcome one. He enjoyed their combat trainings but they tended to lack a real challenge.

He kept his findings to himself, intending to lull Eli into a false sense of security. People who felt secured became comfortable, and those comfortable enough became careless.

They both still waited to get a good hit at the other when Thrawn’s ears caught an odd electric buzz, followed by a loud crack in the ceiling. In a split second, Thrawn caught the expression of anticipation - not surprise - on Eli’s face, and then the whole room plunged into darkness.

That was it? Surely Eli knew that the dark would impair a Human more than a Chiss. The range of wavelengths the Chiss could see extended into the infrared and they had keener hearing as well. Eli’s sparring shoes were especially squeaky on the plastic surface of the mat…

Except that Eli was apparently still so cold from his freezing shift that Thrawn’s eyes weren’t able to see him at all. Thrawn mentally added him a point of credit. Carefully premeditated strategies weren’t in Eli’s nature but he was learning.

Thrawn took two quick and silent steps away from the place Eli had seen him last before the lights went out. He kept his breathing shallow and his footsteps quiet, projecting the room layout in front of his mind’s eye and ears straining to catch the tiny squeak of soles, a rustle of clothing, a louder breath - anything that would give away from which direction the attack would come.

The room was far from silent, as he soon realised. There was a background noise that he barely was aware of on normal days - the ever present hum of engines, distant clanking of boxes in the cargo bays, muted scream of thrusters as the TIE patrols took off or landed back in the hangars. Chimaera was buzzing with action on any given hour of the cycle. Nevertheless, Thrawn was sure he’d be able to hear Eli’s steps even over all this noise. His opponent must have been keeping still, waiting and listening as well.

To his surprise, Thrawn could feel his heart beating faster. This situation was hardly a challenge yet - he had trained with a blindfold before - but there was something about not being able to see that appealed to the baser instincts of every sentient being.

Fighting it would distract him. He embraced it instead. They were in the dark, they could fight like the beasts of the dark. Somewhere close to his right hand there should be a wall, and on it, the training weapons waiting in their mounts: staffs, batons, dull-edged sabers. He took another step to the right and nearly tripped over something - something soft, lying discarded on the floor.

Quickly, he patted it down, holding his breath, listening. A shoe - and another one, a little further to the right. Eli’s training shoes with the squeaky soles.

Something close to alarm woke in the back of Thrawn’s head. Eli could be anywhere, most likely following him more closely than Thrawn would have thought possible. He rose from his crouch and turned, senses on alert. The wall with the weapons he sought had to be very close now. He could hear the footsteps of the patrols walking through the corridor behind it.

Hand outstretched and waiting for contact with the wall, Thrawn sneaked forward. Another set of thudding heavy boots behind the wall - and then something, much more near. In this very room. The softest rustle, just at the edge of his hearing - and then nothing, again. Another piece of the trap.

If Eli was waiting for him by the wall, counting on Thrawn’s attempt to get a weapon, then Thrawn’s best choice was to spring the trap. He would get his weapon in the process.

He jumped in the direction he last heard the odd sound, both hands ready to grasp at - nothing. His palms hit the wall, nails scratching across the wooden paneled surface in his momentary loss of balance. His fingers encountered something smooth and hard - the end of a training staff. He unhooked it from its place and assumed a defensive stance with his back to the wall, swinging the staff in front of him to get a feel of it. Long enough.

He stilled again, the staff held across his body. The odd sound was back. Thrawn tightened his fingers on the wood - and the next thing he knew, he was pulled down, the unexpectedly sharp tug at his staff propelling him towards the floor before he could let go of it.

His elbows connected with the floor, hard. He tried to roll but the staff he chose was now being used against him, laid across his tangled arms and keeping him pinned to the floor. He tried to kick but another body landed on his back, one knee jammed beneath his ribs and pushing the air out of him on a loud cough.

Thrawn bucked and trashed but Eli’s balance was good. Thrawn still kept on trying to throw him off just to cover the sound of one of his arms freed from under the staff and sneaking across the mat for the shoe he knew had to be somewhere near. If he could swing it just right, with luck it would hit Eli on the head and disorient him enough to–

“Ah ah,” Eli’s voice tutted above him and the shoe was plucked out of Thrawn’s fingers as soon as they touched it.

Thrawn went very still.

“You can see,” he said at last.

It was the only explanation - both for the unerring yank on his staff and for the shoe, picked up without groping for it first. Above him, Eli huffed out a short laugh.

“Yeah, I can,” he said, a little breathless. His Wild Space accent was always more pronounced when he was agitated or frustrated. Thrawn wondered which one was it now.

“You didn’t have night vision goggles on you before the lights went out.” Eli’s outfit wouldn’t hide such a gadget, Thrawn was certain of it.

“I have no such thing and I can see just fine,” Eli giggled. “For example, I can see an Admiral who just lost.”

“Apparently so, yes,” Thrawn admitted and then shifted. Pleased with the acceptance of defeat, Eli obligingly began to rise. As soon as the weight from his lower back was lifted, Thrawn rolled onto his back and grabbed Eli's sides, pulling him back down.

Eli stiffened but didn't fight the entrapment. The ribs under Thrawn’s hands expanded and constricted a little faster, though.

Thrawn gazed up into the space where Eli's eyes should have been but couldn't discern anything, no glow of electronics and no gleam of natural night vision, like the eye of a feline. Everything was the same shade of black.

“Funny,” Eli muttered after a moment. His voice sounded strained, almost embarrassed. “Your eyes don't glow in this light.”

Chiss eyes were glowing red under the longer wavelengths. If Eli couldn’t see any luminescence but still spoke about light it meant–

“I wasn’t aware Humans could see ultraviolet light.”

Again, that short breathless laugh, a spasm of muscles beneath his fingers. “We can’t. But there’s a little margin between what you can’t see anymore and I still can. Five nanometres wide band, I’d guess, no more. I just, erm, programmed the lights in this room to switch into that.”

Thrawn was impressed. During all his time in the Imperial space, everyone always accepted the fact that his eyes were sensitive to infrared without question. Nobody ever wondered if the expansion on one side of the spectrum wasn’t accompanied by an equal shortage on the other.

“How did you know it would work?”

“Once I had my theory, I tested it.” Now Eli sounded proud of himself, and also a little smug. “During your last inspection of the TIEs, I had a laser pen. I pointed it on your datapad while you took notes after everyone left. You didn’t seem to notice a thing.”

“You also willingly risked severe hypothermia so I wouldn’t be able to detect your body heat.”

Thrawn rubbed his fingers against the chilly skin of Eli’s bare upper arms. A suppressed shiver ran through the body he held snugly against his own. Thrawn could feel it where they were pressed against each other, heat spreading from the point of contact, almost unbearable in comparison.

“How did you think of it?”

Eli stopped fidgeting and seemed almost relaxed now, the tension in his muscles disappearing. If every move up to now had been a part of a game, perhaps Eli finally accepted its rules.

“You always told me I was limited by my Imperial training,” he said. “It’s taken me awhile to realise that no matter how much I improved my technique, I would always lose as long as I fought you as if you were an Imperial too. You aren’t. You don’t have the typical Imperial weaknesses. You have the weaknesses of the Chiss. I just had to find one.”

“Which you did. I am impressed.”

Silence settled over them, heavy and brief. Eli cleared his throat and made to get up. Thrawn tightened his hold on him.

“Commander. You just achieved a victory. One which is not likely to be repeated–” and Eli laughed at that. At the confidence in Thrawn’s voice, as he, even lying flat on his back, dictated the conditions, “–but a valuable one nonetheless. You may ask a prize.”

“Really?” Eli’s voice rose to a higher pitch than usual. “What kind of a prize?”

“You just taught me a vital piece of knowledge about my own limitations. Such service calls for a reward. You may ask whatever is within my power to give.”

“You would just give me a carte blanche?”

Thrawn regretted he couldn’t see Eli’s face and had to rely on the nuances of his voice. Fortunately, he had years of practice analysing even the slightest break and shift of it. Right now, Eli sounded distrustful. Seemingly uninterested. And beneath it all, Thrawn could hear a hidden hope.

“You once told me that Admirals were the ones who could do as they pleased,” Thrawn reminded him of the time right after their graduation, when Eli was still dismayed over the loss of his supply officer career track. “It would please me to fulfill a wish of yours. An extended leave to visit home? My recommendation to another promotion? You name it, Commander Vanto.”

“I don’t–” the protest fell as quickly as it rose. Eli tensed again, barely breathing. In the background hum of the ship sounds around the room, Thrawn could almost hear his thoughts.

“Could you–”came a stuttered whisper, as Eli corrected himself, trying and failing to sound confident, “–would you close your eyes?”

“I already can’t see anything,” Thrawn pointed out.

“But I can,” Eli breathed again, much closer this time. “And for what I want, it would be better. Trust me?”

That was a question that deserved only one possible answer. Thrawn closed his eyes and lifted his head, meeting Eli’s mouth halfway in a kiss.

#thranto #eli vanto #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #star wars fanfiction

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djmocmix · 5 years ago

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years ago

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wondering where all the blah about rewatch stuff is??? Well I’m super duper tired, but here’s my semi-hallucinated conversation with Mittens last night when I was unpacking literally and figuratively by looking through my badly-spelled notes from the train...

elizabethrobertajones I have a long list of meta things from 4x04-9 :P although one of the notes is "gif the dracula running chased by dean and then the yorkie running after Dean"

mittensmorgul excellent Those would be good gifs Meanwhile I'm mired in s6 lies and deception and soullessness

elizabethrobertajones the other is a list of 3 things that make excellent Destiel meta out of this chunk of episdoes I wanted to line up Dean opening up to Jamie vs Dean opening up in the confessional in 10x16 because I realised how much Dean is talking about Cas in the first one

elizabethrobertajones and it felt the same sort of thing but in the totally opposite direction

4x05:

JAMIE Wow. DEAN What? JAMIE That must suck. I mean, you're giving up your life for this terrible... I don't know, responsibility. DEAN Last few years, I started thinking that way, and, uh, it started sort of weighing on me. Of course, that was before... A little while ago, I had this – let’s call it a near-death experience. Very near. And, uh, when I came to... things were different. My life's been different. I realize that I help people. Not just help them, though. I save them. I guess it's -- it's awesome. It's kind of like a gift... like a mission. Kind of like a... a mission from God.

10x16:

DEAN What if I said I…I didn’t want to die…yet, you know, that I wasn’t ready? FATHER DELANEY Are you expecting to? DEAN Always. [Chuckles] You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. FATHER DELANEY But now? DEAN Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. FATHER DELANEY Go a little deeper, perhaps, than with Gina. DEAN Yeah. Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought. FATHER DELANEY Learning there’s more to the universe than your tiny world can be a frightening discovery. Do you truly believe in God, Agent? Because that can be a comfort DEAN I believe there is a God. But I’m not sure he still believes in us.

mittensmorgul GAH

elizabethrobertajones one talking himself back into being a hunter because he suddenly felt like he had a mission from god in that narrow little window where it seemed like a good thing (and the hunter in 4x04 says he'd do anything not to have to do this when he's hunting the guy and his wife and dies horribly for it because he's being insincere but Cas MEANS it)

mittensmorgul and then down the other end of the line, where he had a very different little window that felt like it was closing rapidly for him

elizabethrobertajones yeah

mittensmorgul ACK

elizabethrobertajones in season 10 he's talking himself back out into wanting MORE after he's telling Jamie that he DOESN'T think his life sucks

elizabethrobertajones after she says it must be lonely and horrible then he goes and admits 6 years later that it IS lonely and horrible and he want more

mittensmorgul but he's just come back from hell, he KNOWS lonely and horrible

elizabethrobertajones and in 4x05 his reasoning for not wanting more is because of the new faith Cas gave him the feeling maybe he came back for good reasons

mittensmorgul oh dear

elizabethrobertajones and that maybe he can trust that he has a mission

mittensmorgul D:

elizabethrobertajones (Cas really got to him with 4x03 because of how he uses "Cas sed" on Sam in 4x04's argument) aaargh

mittensmorgul he does, but it takes like 7 more years to come out the other side of it of his "mission from god"

elizabethrobertajones I don't think we really talk much about Dean's little bubble of faith and optimism specifically caused by Cas I find it fascinating but it's over so quickly :P

mittensmorgul Like Dean was his cosmic post-it note Chuck left for himself and came to collect in 11.23

elizabethrobertajones yeah everything Dean says in 4x02 is repeated in 11x21 to Chuck's face I started giffing but my arms hurt so much I'm just not going to do that >.>

mittensmorgul yeah, you deserve at least one full day of arm rest

elizabethrobertajones Also i feel really weird like no one *I've* ever seen has compared 4x07 and the witches to the Lucifer endgame literally a spell killing people (breaking seals) then they think it's the witch and killing her will stop "Sam Hain"

mittensmorgul OH MY GOSH

elizabethrobertajones but then it all gets turned around and they kill the guy and WHOOPS

mittensmorgul (yes I also cringe at all the Sam Hain)

elizabethrobertajones "Sam Hain" rises and posesses the guy like... oh

elizabethrobertajones he even comes out of a crack in the floor in a crypt

mittensmorgul heck that's right out of 4.22

elizabethrobertajones and "Sam Hain" (the pronunciation makes him a parallel) is wearing a white shirt and then Sam is wearing his awful white shirt at the end of the episode :P

mittensmorgul killing her didn't stop him from breaking out, it freed him.

elizabethrobertajones YEP And my last note is that my heart shattered when Dean commented at the wishing well that he thought Sam would make the 2x20 wish

mittensmorgul It was one big misdirect, orchestrated by Uriel essentially, who we soon discover had been pulling for Lucifer all along, killing the angels who refused to join him

elizabethrobertajones and Sam wants Lilith's head on a plate, bloody

mittensmorgul ack

elizabethrobertajones Sam says he's not that guy any more

elizabethrobertajones but it's a loss of hope and the subtle theme of embracing being the monster 4x04 he embraces being the monster 4x05 the monster theme is... subtle but there if you squint :P

mittensmorgul yeah

elizabethrobertajones 4x06 Dean sees Sam as potentially and terrifyingly the monster

mittensmorgul yep, right down to the yellow eyes

elizabethrobertajones 4x07 the "Sam Hain" parallel and Sam embraces his powers to exorcise him 4x08 Sam sees himself only as revenge and blood

mittensmorgul and is warned by Uriel not to

elizabethrobertajones even though in 2x20 Dean wasn't exactly someone who just *was* the AU Dean at heart

elizabethrobertajones the whole point was he was in a different life Sam can't even conceptualise being a different person or wishing for peace and happiness it's worse than season 10 Dean, honestly at least he wanted to go to the beach and WISHED he could have more although he didn't see a way out and was sad he wasn't gonna get "Gina"

mittensmorgul yeah, and he was still eating croissookies and clinging to happiness with both hands while the MoC was trying to pry his fingers off

elizabethrobertajones even in early season 4 Sam's kinda lost and I mean lost as in needs Chuck's squeegee clean up to even start to have a chance to redeem himself it seems he can't see a way past being what he is and has subtly already embraced being the "whole new level of freak" and that the demon blood is there, might as well use it and be who he's supposed to be like, Ruby did all that between season 3 and 4 so there was no way Dean was ever going to talk him back :<

mittensmorgul Yeah, giving in to the powers and believing he can use them for good, to save people, is better than being a useless freak

elizabethrobertajones yeah

mittensmorgul it was so tempting for him to believe that he could control it in some way

elizabethrobertajones it's horrifying to rewatch and realise how annoyingly right Dean is about literally everything

mittensmorgul that it wasn't being done TO him yeah

elizabethrobertajones like as soon as you know he was right about Ruby everything he says is so painfully tre *tru ....

mittensmorgul yeah

elizabethrobertajones anyway Sam says he's saved more people in the last few months than they have in years and dean's like, is that what ruby wants you to think?

elizabethrobertajones and... yeah, it is Sam's already like 90% brainwashed when you got back from Hell

#4x04 #4x05 #4x06 #4x07 #4x08 #I also watched 4x09 but I don't have any specific comments on it I haven't had before and I suspect 4x10 will be the same #also I was watching 4x09 and the sun was bright on the screen so I turned the brightness all the way up #and then we went into a tunnel RIGHT at the Sam n Ruby hook up and it was like *glaring* in the window reflection #i think the whole carriage could have watched it with me #I did notice the detail therefore that Sam is sitting in a demon trap when Ruby approaches him #obviously they pay that no attention because they know it's there already and it's unremarked #but it's a great little set thing just showing Ruby having complete and utter control over Sam #she'll walk into a demon trap to hook up with him because she knows he'll let her out again #and it looks to Sam like she is trust him and being VULNERABLE because she walked into her weakness #uhghghghghhhhhh #4x09 #okay now I have to tag it :P #spn rewatches #weird rewatching #mittensmorgul #WAIT ALSO if Cas more accurately represents Heaven and God to Dean in this specific bubble of optimism period #I had intense Feels about him clutching the bible in 4x06 to his face like that #same deal as the Jamie conversation #Cas represents this because Cas is who Dean has talked to and bonded with #He's warming up to the idea of God because of Cas but meets Uriel and it's like WOW ANGELS ARE DICKS #glad my angel is nice

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grassshrimp56-blog · 5 years ago

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How I Found My Dad Again on a Solo Trip to Vietnam

Pancakes were my dad’s specialty, mostly because he made them on special occasions: when his parents came to town, after I won a roller skating competition, before a drive to nearby Sequoia National Park.

His favorite special occasions were when his beloved Los Angeles Rams played the San Francisco 49ers. Before his friend Arlie, a Niners fan, would arrive to watch the game with him, he’d make his pancakes. It was a pre-game ritual and a prayer rolled into one: “Dear Heavenly Father of Football, bless these pancakes we are about to receive—and also, if you wouldn’t mind, bless the Rams with strong defense and a lot of touchdowns today.”

The pancakes he made weren’t distinctive. They weren’t whisked from scratch or shaped like hearts or topped with a blueberry smiley face. They were made with Bisquick, oil, and eggs.

Sometimes he’d let me pour the batter into the pan, and together we’d marvel at the sharp, short-lived sound it made on impact. Tzzzuuhhh, tzzzuuhh. How quickly it spread, how gracefully, I thought, each pancake stopped just shy of a collision with the other. We never poured more than two at a time.

“Nobody likes to be crowded,” he’d say.

The result was my then-favorite food: pancakes thick in the center, burned at the edges, and drowned in buttermilk syrup. Pancakes made by my dad and me.

Cooking wasn’t something he did often. Neither was showing up for dinner on time. Vast swaths of my childhood are usurped by the memory of a single, recurring event: my kid brother and I sitting at the dinner table watching ketchup bubble and drip down the sides of a steaming meatloaf, my mother shouting to us from the kitchen, “Look but don’t touch.”

We were waiting for my dad to come home. When at last he'd arrive, he’d kiss my mom on the cheek, and together we’d eat and watch Wheel of Fortune.

This ritual ended right before my 10th birthday, when my dad stopped coming home at all. Soon after, my parents divorced. My dad remarried and my mom got a second and a third job. Lines were drawn, sides were taken. I was not on his. We rarely met, and when we did, we masked our hurt with small talk and wooden smiles. Our before, as in “before the divorce,” became a hollow, infinite after.

Time passed. He started a business and divorced again. I moved to Los Angeles and then to New York. Our fragile “after” morphed into a series of stops and starts, the former marked by awkward attempts at recapturing our pancake days; the latter by the silences between them.

Fast forward to 2010. I am married and living in Tel Aviv. It is late May, and the hamsin have arrived, kicking up dust and stirring the heat. I sit alone on my balcony watching a bougainvillea tree sway in the wind and thinking of the night before. Last night, my husband made his safta’s ktsitsot, and after placing three perfectly round meatballs on his plate, turned to me and said, “I don’t love you anymore.”

He’d spend the next day moving out.

Where will I go?, I think to myself. I am not yet a resident and will have to leave Israel. I think of the friends I will lose and the money this will cost. And then, I think of my dad. Specifically, I think of the day when, while playing with my brother in our overstuffed garage, I found a black, dust-covered box with a gold medal inside. I’d taken it to my mom to ask if I could keep it.

“Where did you find that?” she said, breathless and impatient. “Put it back before your father sees it.”

I would later learn that it was an award my dad won for heroism and valor. In 1969, he killed an enemy soldier while on night watch in Vietnam. Presumably, he’d saved his platoon from a surprise attack. He was barely 20 years old.

He didn’t tell me this. My mother did. I recently read somewhere that over a quarter of a million Vietnam veterans still have PTSD. I’m not sure if my dad ever had any psychological trauma relating to his service. (His hearing, on the other hand, was greatly affected, a fact that makes it difficult for him to converse on the phone, and consequently, difficult for the two of us to converse at all.) Like so many veterans, he never talked about the war. Even now, the subject of Vietnam remains private, off limits to everyone, perhaps even to himself.

On the balcony, a cluster of pink flower petals has collected in a corner. I pick them up and throw them over the crumbling cement ledge. “Vietnam,” I say to the bougainvillea tree. I will go to Vietnam.

I decided to fly from Tel Aviv to Bangkok, with a loose plan to spend three months making a loop: Thailand to Laos to Vietnam to Cambodia. And then? I didn’t yet know the answer.

At the start of my trip, I didn’t think about my dad at all. I was too busy getting lost and feeling out of place and tasting foods I’d never seen before. In Thailand, I ate laap and durian ice cream. In Laos, I toured rice and mung bean farms, and played duc day with locals over Beerlao and tam. I saw ballets, went hiking, and took questionably constructed buses to villages with no name. Through it all, I rarely thought about my dad.

Eventually, however, the eagerness that required I accept every invitation and see every recommended sight subsided, giving way to a slower, more peaceful pace. I spent long, lazy afternoons reading and people-watching and drinking too many Thai iced teas. With more time to think, my thoughts turned to my dad.

These thoughts became especially vivid while researching routes and transportation between Laos and Vietnam. If I heard a laugh like his, I thought of him. If I saw a man with a mustache, I thought of him. If I smelled pancakes on the street—they are ubiquitous in Southeast Asia—I thought of him. Vietnam’s proximity was stirring my emotions. By the time I left Laos, my dad was the only thing on my mind.

When I arrived in Hanoi, the sensory overload shocked me. Vietnam is, at once, familiar and distant. In Halong Bay, endless mist floats over and into junk boats and cliff edges. In Vinh Moc, dank tunnels attest to lives lived entirely underground. In Ho Chi Minh City, buildings with ornate ceilings and bright tiled floors whisper of past French colonial rule.

I was unprepared for the real Vietnam. For its sounds and smells and breadth. For its darkness and vitality and cool. For its many thousand layers of tradition and lore that can never be fully peeled back.

I wondered, everywhere I went, if my dad had once been where I stood. In Hoi An, a port city and UNESCO World Heritage Site near My Lai and the former Vietnamese Demilitarized Zone, he came into particularly sharp view.

I am starting the long walk back to Hoi An’s city center after a day on the beach. Hungry, I turn off the main road and enter a bungalow with a sign that, I hope, says “restaurant.” There’s an upper deck and a small bar and two wooden tables set with unlit candles. In the back, a pond with a bird feeder at its center. There are no customers.

“You want eat?” A woman appears and sets a metal basket full of neon condiments on the table in front of me. “I bring menu for you.” Her voice is staccato and quick, a medley of diphthongs and off-glides and abrupt nasal stops. It is also kind.

When she returns and hands me the menu, I stammer and shrug. It’s written in Vietnamese and has no pictures.

“You want noodle? You want soup?”

“Noodles?” I ask more than state.

“Noodle good. Pork okay for you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Okay. Cao lầu. Famous food for Hoi An. Only make in Hoi An. I bring you.”

She leaves and turns on the radio behind the bar. I sit and watch the birds stop at the edge of the pond, then quickly fly away.

When my meal arrives, I cup the bowl and admire the salty perfume. There are bean sprouts and greens and chiles. There are peanuts and a squeeze of lime. Fried pork rinds are sprinkled on the braised chunks of pork. Lining the cao lầu’s perimeter are the long, square-edged noodles that give the dish its name. I mix all of these together and take my first bite. It’s acidic and sweet, tacky and dense.

Legend has it that cau lầu noodles can only be produced in Hoi An. Of their three ingredients—water, ash, and ground rice—two can’t be found anywhere else in the world. It is said that the water is from an ancient Cham well just outside of town, and the ash is made from firewood on the nearby Cham Islands.

With each bite I take, a stream of memories pours forth. My dad washing our dog. My dad playing cards. My dad on a ski lift with me. We’d gone snowboarding when I’d visited him in Reno on my 21st birthday, and when his back had acted up, he’d nursed three cups of cocoa in the lodge so that I could have a full day on the slopes. Recalling this, I start to cry. Another memory: My dad pinning my Bluebirds badge on a pig-tailed, six year-old me. And another: My dad clapping wildly for me at my college graduation. And still another: My dad sitting across from me seven years earlier at a restaurant in New York, the last time I’d seen him.

I’m openly weeping now, hunched over my bowl and what remains of my new favorite dish. I can’t stop crying, and I can’t understand why I started.

Now, nearly a decade later, the reason is clear. Though my dad and I didn’t talk during my travels and we don’t speak often now, it was as if he was there with me. Alone in Vietnam, eating a dish whose ingredients aren’t available anywhere else, I felt closer to him than I had in 25 years. It was as if he had finally come home.

Source: https://food52.com/blog/24232-cao-lau-noodles-in-vietnam

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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kai-borg · 6 years ago

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Tyrant - Ruler of the outer lands

Tyrant is a merciless being, unless you can count the mockery of a merciful-death he grants to those who survive his initial attack as mercy, who rules over much of the lands outside of Creator claim with iron-fisted control and a compliance born of terror and fear for what he does to those who disobey him. He is massive, standing taller than most, if not all, of the naturally tall mini-mayhems, and he wields a strength that is truly something that could be boasted of, allowing for him to wield his war-hammer, a weapon of choice, and take down mocs many times his size, an activity he has done at multiple occasions and enjoyed each time. While there are tales that he once was a peaceful, kind ruler, who controlled a much smaller, more peaceable kingdom, if said tales are supposed to be believed, the disappearance of his wife, soon followed by a lasting, crippling disease, and later death for his son have long since shattered the kind king and left naught but the beast that remains. Tyrant first came into true being after slaughtering the previous owner of that name, a wide feared moc who controlled a large area of the outer-realm, and the house of his creator, long since killed by his hand, kept as his kingdom. After ending the first Tyrant this king of unknown name took his name as his, along with his kingdom, and skull as crown. Since then he has begun expanding his land in what seems to be a plan to control all of it, quite literally causing a war between his armies and all mocs, from wild to those assorted house-mocs that choice to join in their attempt to defeat him, for his first, and final large scale attack. The last because he won that war, and took control of all the territory lost within it, and the mocs who'd once laid claim to it. So far he is continuing his expansion, aiming for both Creator-claimed land and not. Hiring criminals, thugs, the scum of society and those alike to form his armies and keepers of 'peace' for the lands he cannot always be in. But not even they are safe, for he is more than willing to remove those who attempt to take advantage of their position and break the rules he set for them. He is even more dangerous than the previous Tyrant who's skull he now wears as crown in his actions, carrying a greater fear than even him from both the rumors surrounding him, and the truth known of him, such as that he personally carries out the execution and punishment of those who fight, and that he leads all battles himself, and leaves none alive in his wake. He has even accomplished events not even the first was willing to take, the death of a Creator, and not just one. But, he's not idiotic enough to attack one in their territory, there they are strong, strong enough to kill him easily with their 'home-field' advantage. So he plans, waits and watches until a time comes that they leave, enter an area they can be killed, even if it is a difficult task, he will look forward to attending that battle. Now, despite how idiotic such actions may seem, purposely aggravating Creator's and all, he is in fact quite a genius. He is never without a plan, and despite a large portion of his army consisting of criminals of ill-report and suspicious alliance, an even bigger portion consists of 'blank'-mayhems, a 'moc' build he helped design, and he's forced the scientists he's encountered and captured to perfect, and mass produce. The blank-mayhems are in basic, blank, emotionless slates. Robots who can only follow commands and have no sentience, thus bypassing any need for creative energy, and giving him an army he's ensured can never betray him. He did once attempt to create a variant, a more sentient version of the commander build, a 'blank' coded to be able to distrubute his commands out to a group of the standard blank-mayhems. It was a failure, the sentience developing in a way that was unplanned for and leaving what he'd designed as a death machine as nothing more than a failure in his mind, a failure he quickly threw away, leaving trashed on the outskirts of his territory in a state that would most likely soon render it shutdown by his beliefs. He also, at a much earlier time, attempt to create a virus that would allow him to gain more 'loyal' subjects by overriding the infected Moc's mind and rewriting it into a more controllable state. Unfortunately, for him that is, it didn't work, the henchmen he'd sent out with the finished product for its initial test returning with many dead and reports that the virus proved to weak, managing to only overwrite the Moc's mind, a Mini-mayhem moc at that, enough to damage his mentality before being beaten down by the Mayhem's own. It did manage to form an offshoot of itself while they kept the moc in isolation, forming into a more aggressive, albeit seemingly mentally weaker, secondary personality, the Mayhem seeming to have relinquished control to it before it began attacking the group, slaughtering many before being stopped and the personality losing control, according to the reports. The Mayhem himself, after being reverted and shocked unconscious through loss of a leg, was believed to be dead after the remaining thugs disposed of him in the parts pile of a known Creator known as Essence near that area. Despite his cruelty and perceived mercilessness, he actually has loyal subjects, if very few of them. His head scientist, a moc 'freed' from a Creator who hated him, being one of them and more scattered around. (Not counting any cults based upon him.) He also has one, unknown weakness, child-mocs. He has never killed a single child nor allowed for injury so long as he can stop it in any of his battles, or any of the towns he's been in, quite literally killing those he find that abuse their child and personally selecting them a new family. But he hides it in ways, not going visibly out of his way to protect nor help them, but finding ways to excuse it in such a way that none suspect him. In fact most fear he is planning to kill their kids, his tendency to, at times, send an 'invite' for visitation to one of those nearest to his 'castle', does not help. Their safe return with presents, odd new skill at chess, and the temporary 'ignorance' of their family by Tyrant ignored from the account. He also holds a soft spot in his heart for his own species, if a one masked with his cruelty. From slaughtering near all of the wild monochrome-mayhem tribes, to enslaving the beast/feral-mayhems, both wild tribes that once highly opposed him, and other 'punishments. Yet that is it, he punishes them, he doesn't slaughter all/multiple of them like he'd do to any other wild-tribe that had continued resistance against him, only those who actively resist. Sure, said punishments are quite cruel, being the death of the individual in question, but he rarely ever carries out the execution himself, leaving it to his minions. Once he never participated in them but after an incident involving the unconfirmed death of an escaping youngling beast-mayhem and a cliff, he was forced to remove that hesitation somewhat, and the 'guards' involved with that incident. Currently there are three known goals of Tyrant: The first is to control all territory, all land. To be a 'king' who none shall ever oppose. And, other than the Creator homes, he has gotten close, very few free tribes remaining and many of the resistance forces cut down. The second is to find The Kingdom, a hidden mini-mayhem territory he has only heard rumors of, from the potential threats of a king near his size known as Albus to two who have overtaken him, and gained his size, to their uncounted army of mini-mayhems that they wielded the power to create, and that its rumored existence is located near the Creator who started his species, an entity he has yet to find, and wishes to either control, or destroy. And the third, and most known one, is to find a Moc, one he has asked of in every tribe of related species he has taken, a Mini-mayhem known by the name of Jetflare Personality: Cold, uncaring, cruel, controlling, vicious, aggressive, willing to do nigh-all to accomplish his goals, and intelligent on top, all the qualities that made him into the most-feared, and perfect Tyrant. He cares little for many of his subjects, and armies lives, and for those few he does he hides it. He personally leads all battles and will subject himself to anything, any amount of pain so long as it means he will become stronger and more able to reach his goals. Other attributes: He has purposely had his head modified to allow him to remove his standard Mini-mayhem head piece and replace it with his crown, keeping both removable, usually carrying his Mayhem head piece attached to his back for when he wishes to 'relax'. His right arm is actually unnatural to his build, a purposeful mutation he appeared to have put himself through before becoming known as Tyrant, for both the increased claws and a more powerful strength within it. He actually has quite a few pieces of removable armour on himself, attached to him for both protection and to make his form all that much more menacing, ensuring his reputation as the most feared-being shall remain. The pieces so far include his 'crown', shoulder mounted skull-based armour, and the clawed panels on his upper legs. Tyrant's legs have a permanent, slightly digitigradle bend to them, giving him a slightly animalistic air when noticed. The crystal on his right arms wrist is attached by a chain that has both been wrapped around his wrist, and wielded to it. The reason behind why he's done such, and why he keeps it is, as of yet, unknown, but he has shown himself to be highly protective of it, going so far as to kill a Moc who merely brushed across it. (Of course, I'm certain I know someone who might understand the importance behind such a crystal.) There are also rumors he once dabbled in cloning but they are yet to be confirmed. Weapons: Tyrants preferred weapon is his war-hammer, a weapon that assures death to his opponents when combined with his strength, but he will wield others as needed and understand the import' of being skilled in others. Due to this he has installed working kanoka disk launchers in his forearms, both in case of opponents behind him and for menacing design, and is highly trained in both double handed sword use, and dual wielded sword use. ================ This guy was inspired both from Toa-Shifter's amazing series and some of Jedder77's own crazy Mini-mayhem mocs and the ideas behind them. Really this guy just kind of randomly popped into my head a while ago when I was thinking of how a series based around my own Moc's, and understanding/beliefs of the MM au, but I didn't fully know how to utilize him/make him work out at first (the fact I didn't believe I had the parts to make him at first didn't help), but I have to say after reading some of Jedder's ideas, and watching a few 'house-based' moc series, helped me really develop him into what he is now! He speaks in a blood-red (RGB: 138,7,7) version of this font: www.ffonts.net/Zombie-Holocaus… (Also, as you may notice, I threw quite a few... 'references' to certain characters (including a highly blatant one), and how they may have come to be/ended up in their current states in there with his bio. I wonder if you guys'll get 'em. I hope you do.~)

#Mini mayhem #Mini mayhems #Bionicle #Moc #Tyrant #Killer of kings and Creators #Main Villain #House universe #house!verse

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