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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Note

Drabble request for dbf!joel getting blown under the table or something while he's having a convo with reader's dad?!?! IDK I just love your dbf!joel!!

You Can Be the Boss

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader

warnings: rough oral (m receiving); petnames (angel, baby, sweetheart); age gap; choking; hair pulling; (yall this is pure pure daddy issues FILTH, I warned you. I warned you hard).

Hi y’all ty for sending me all ur requests. ummm you guys are insane ! and so am I ! maybe more because I’m actually the one writing these ! this one is so dirty ! don’t say I didn’t warn you !

more to come hehehe. I don’t tag ppl for my smaller drabbles / fics so turn on notifs or whatevs ;)

-em<3

—

“As close as I’ll get to the darkness, he tells me to, ‘Shut up, I got this.’”

- You Can Be the Boss

—

It was still a secret, after all.

Sneaking into his apartment, late nights in alleys, abandoned cars lining the streets of the QZ… you’d managed to keep your joint intoxication with one another under wraps.

Today… today was risky. You usually waited until the wee hours of the morning to even walk by his place, let alone enter, but you’d needed to drop off a sweater that Tess had leant you the previous week, intending to leave it folded up on the doormat before bolting down the hall. Your footsteps were nervous and heavy, which led to the door swinging wide open on its hinges, a gruff “where you runnin’ off to, Angel?” and a set of rough hands pulling you through the doorway.

Then you were spread open against the tattered table cloth of his (busy) kitchen table, underwear shoved to the side, watching a hunched over Joel Fucking Miller spit on his hand and run it up down his heavy, hard length.

“Shouldn’t come here during the day,” as he’d lined himself up, “Can’t fuckin’ help myself.”

That’s when you heard the definite sound of a key twisting inside a lock. Joel’s head shot up — your eyes barely had time to widen before he was shoving you under the table, panties still twisted around your ankles.

A quick zip, then footsteps.

“Oh, sorry man—”

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“—Tess said you wouldn’t be home.”

It’s your father.

You thank God for your his poor observation skills (and the tablecloth) as Joel responds, “ah, no worries,” frustratingly non-chalant as ever.

“While you’re here though,” and your heart sinks, identifying your dad’s intention to stay, “Was wondering if we could go over the plans for our new routes. FEDRA assholes blocked off another south-east one today.”

Your blood turns to ice inside your veins as both men pull out their chairs, settling into a purely-business conversation. Joel barely hesitates, cool as ice.

Not fair that he gets to be so calm while you’re so… not.

Not fair.

If only there was a way to even out the playing field.

Crunched into yourself, you scoot closer to Joel’s calves, clinging onto his denim and doing your best to make as little noise as possible. When it’s clear, however, that your father’s far too invested in the practicalities of the conversation to suspect or inquire into or even notice anything else, your eyes wander towards the slowly softening bulge, still visible underneath Joel’s belt.

And you get an idea.

The man always tortured you, and you were well aware that what made your arrangement especially enticing — for the both of you — was the taboo-ness, the wrongness of it all.

So your pussy drips just thinking about it.

Slowly, delicately, you slide your hands up Joel’s thighs, feeling his every muscle respond, tensing, turning to stone, or jolting with electricity beneath your playful touches.

It’s hard, quietly pulling down his fly. Still, metal tooth by metal tooth, you eventually succeed, unable to hold back a smile of vindication when his cock springs up, swelling and hardening between your fingertips. Joel covers his choke with a cough.

Just as you duck down to lick a fat stripe up his cock’s dark underside, noticing how the lungs above you constrict — freezing — the conversation changes.

“You been seeing a lot of my daughter?”

Joel takes an uncharacteristically long time to grunt out a “here n’ there.”

You hold in a laugh, both at your dad’s timely question and the reaction it causes. Placing a hand at the base of him, you consider this the perfect moment to start teasing his tip with patient, innocent little kitten-licks.

“Been acting weird,” your old man continues, unphased and unassuming, “Worried she’s been gettin’ herself into trouble.”

Trouble? You’re looking at him.

Your dad’s whole “fatherly concern” (not like he’d ever shown any before) angle makes you bold. You want to make it harder for Joel to deny your father’s suspicion.

You want to make him lie through his teeth.

You part your lips, wrapping them adoringly around the entire head of his cock before gliding down, using your hand to assist you as you please every inch of him.

While he mostly manages to keep it together, his legs don’t, gently parting with desire to allow you better access.

“She-she’s a good girl, man,” Joel manages, and while his delivery borders a groan, he stays surprisingly level (your body doesn’t forget to note his praise, either, aching cunt growing wetter and wetter at his every word). “‘Bit juvenile sometimes, and reckless—” he pauses, and it’s very clear he’s not speaking to your father, “—but good—” you work every inch of him with your hands, throat, and mouth, savouring the feel of his ridges and veins, the taste of his salt on your tastebuds, “—so good.”

You freeze, scanning the room for tension as both you and Joel try to figure out if his desire-stricken tone’s given you away.

It hasn’t.

Of course it hasn’t.

Your dad continues on as if everything were normal, as if Joel’s tip wasn’t kissing the back of your throat. “Just not sure if I’m raising her right—or… or if I was much of a father at all.”

Yeah, probably not. You know, given that I’m under the table sucking your best friend’s dick.

You watch, head still slowly bobbing up and down his length, a hand carving a careful path down his leg. Joel’s fingertips breach your shoulder, his palm slowly graduates to cupping the back of your head.

And he shoves you forward, forcing every punishing inch of himself down your little, gasping throat.

“Just needs a little discipline,” your torturer responds, raising his gravelly voice to mask the definite sound of choking.

“A heavy hand.”

You huff against his abdomen. Just like that, Joel’s taken the reins of your little operation.

Like he always did. Like he always does.

“You’re probably right,” your father responds, sighing with concession. Tears begin to well in the corners of your eyes while your lungs burn for oxygen, mouth stuffed and nose pressed into Joel’s skin. He chuckles, slapping the table. “Give ‘em an inch and they take a mile, huh?”

“That’s right,” Joel responds, a soft coo, tightening his grasp in your hair and somehow forcing more of himself between your lips.

Making his point.

You hold back a whimper, nails hopelessly clawing at his jeans.

Your dad raps his knuckles against the wood, pushing his chair back to leave. Unfortunately for you, Joel doesn’t move, holding you there like a prisoner — suffocating you.

He clears his throat. “I’d walk you out, but, you know—” your eyelids grow heavy, little stars beginning to dance in your vision “—been goin’ hard recently. Wearin’ myself out.”

A huff of understanding and concurrence from the other side of the room.

Eventually, after what seems like an eternity, hinges squeak, goodbyes are uttered, and your father’s left you alone with his buddy again.

Joel’s chair scrapes back — he pulls you along with him, attached to him, out from underneath the table.

Finally, finally, he releases his grasp.

You jump off of him, strings of saliva trailing from your lips, gasping for air as if you were seconds from drowning.

You aim to collapse against his knees, but he quickly grabs you by the throat, presses his big thumb under your chin, and forces your wet, tear-lined eyes up to meet his.

They’re filled with a lust so dark, you wonder if just that look might swallow you whole.

“Prouda yourself?” He speaks, voice low.

Dangerous.

And you just smile, dazed, nodding. Nodding because you know where it’ll get you. Nodding because you just know how much it’ll entice him.

“‘Course you are,” he continues, softer, “Shoulda been honest — shoulda told your old man he raised a fuckin’ slut.”

Joel lifts you up, indelicately shoving you down on the table, right back in the position you’d originally started the visit in.

His eyes darken to black when he sees how wet you are, how fucked-out, needy, and unapologetic you are.

“And you know what, baby?” A deceiving coo as he lines himself up at your entrance, using his other hand to squeeze your jaw — tight.

You look at him with big, begging doe eyes, eyebrows already knitting together from the tantalizing contact.

“I’m really fuckin’ glad he did.”

And as Joel Miller roughly sheathes his cock inside your young, tight cunt, you find yourself agreeing with him.

—

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

AO3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #Pedro pascal smut #Pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #tlou #request for em’s answering machine: answered<3

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trashpandacraft · 8 months

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I found fibrecraft tumblr after searching drop spindles because my dad *didn’t even know what that was.* And despite having been firmly of the opinion that I didn’t intend to learn it, y’all have me getting ever closer to giving in. However, I’m also growing ever more enamored with the idea of weaving - and despite recently deciding to give knitting and crochet another go - I think it looks the most fun of the fiber crafts. My issue is that I have absolutely no space.

But I’m beginning to realize there’s a lot of different looms and types of weaving. So I was wondering if you have any resources or tips for small space methods and storage?

welcome to fibrecraft tumblr! it's fun here, we have enablers.

i will admit that while i love knitting, weaving is amazing, and is much better with regards to instant gratification—weaving for an hour gets you a lot more fabric than knitting for an hour.

so let's talk about weaving, because i have great news for you: you can 100% totally weave in a small space if you want to, and you even have options for how you do it. i'm going to go through basically all the small space weaving options that i'm aware of in roughly size order, and if you make it to the bottom of this you'll have a pretty good overview of space-saving weaving methods.

the first question to ask yourself is what you want to weave. maybe you're not sure yet, which is totally fine. if you don't immediately have strong feelings about it, though, maybe consider if band weaving strikes your fancy. this is pretty limited in size, but lets you weave belts, straps (like camera or bag straps), lanyards, etc.

if you think that sounds neat, it's worth looking into tablet weaving, an inkle loom, or a band/tape loom. tablet weaving takes up no space at all—if you can fit a stack of index cards into your life, you can fit tablet weaving. the tablets are small square cards, often made out of heavy cardstock, and even with a project on them, you can probably fit them into an index card holder.

inkle looms are larger, and to be honest i've never used one and don't know a ton about them, but they're also used for making woven bands. the looms can also be very aesthetically pleasing, if that's something you're into. they can be very big, but the ashford inklette, for example, is only 36 cm long and maybe 12 cm wide.

tape looms are—in my experience, anyhow—larger than tablet weaving but smaller than inkle looms, and even the larger ones are only about shoebox size. they vary widely, from gorgeous, complicated little looms to a handheld paddle that you use to create a shed, which is what you put your yarn through when you're weaving.

if that doesn't sound like good times, consider a frame loom. these are pretty simple—if you ever wove potholders out of stretchy cloth strips as a kid, you probably used a frame loom to do it on. frame looms are generally inexpensive and readily available, and can be used for small woven objects like potholders, coasters, placemats, etc. they can also be used to make some truly stunning tapestries. while you can buy a huge frame loom, you're still only talking about huge in two directions—it might be as wide as your armspan, but it's still only a couple inches thick.

another option is a pin loom. these don't get mentioned a lot, and i'm not totally sure why. pin looms are shapes with a bunch of pins (metal points, usually) coming out of them. on one hand, you're limited to making things that are the shape of the loom, but on the other hand, if you've been hanging around fibrecraft tumblr, you've seen all the things crocheters get up to with granny squares, right? there's no reason in the world that you can't do all those things with the squares made on a pin loom. or the hexagons! or the triangles! i've been kinda thinking about getting a little hexagon or triangle pin loom and using it to sample my handspun, then turning the shapes into a blanket.

if you hate all of that, that's ok! we have more options.

you could consider a backstrap loom, which is an ancient way of weaving that's still practiced today in many places. backstrap looms are cool because you can weave probably 24 inches wide on them, but even with a project on it, they take almost no room at all. backstrap looms are fairly easy to diy, because they're basically a bunch of dowels, so they can be a good low-cost way to try out weaving. backstrap looms will let you make longer, wider fabric than anything else we've mentioned so far!

another option—stay with me—is a toy loom. there are a number of cheap looms for sale on amazon/ali express/some local places that are actually fully functional looms. recently i've seen a number of people (like sally pointer, though i'm sure i've seen someone using one of the brightly coloured harness looms, as well) who've used them and report that they're functional, if basic, looms. you're fairly constrained in terms of project size, since there's not a lot of space for the finished fabric to wind on, and there's a very limited width, but the looms are quite small and tuck away easily.

ok, but so what if you hate all of those options? don't worry—there are more options! this is the part where things get expensive, though.

as looms go, rigid heddle looms are actually quite reasonably sized. i think the smallest one i've seen is a 40cm (~16") weaving width, which is about 50x60 (20x24") in length/width, and 13cm (5") high. so that's more space than anything else we've talked about, but it's still not a ton of space, you know? a 40cm rigid heddle will let you weave lovely scarves and things of that nature—table runners, placemats, strips of woven fabric to whipstitch together into a blanket, etc.

but maybe that's enough. so let's talk about table looms. some of them are quite large—mine, for example, is about a metre square and sits on a frame that it came with. it is not what you would call space efficient. but many of them, especially modern ones, are very compact, and can even be folded up into something more or less briefcase sized. (weird way to consider it, since the last time i saw a briefcase was probably the 80s, but you know what i mean, i bet.) the cool part here is that you can weave damn near anything you want on a table loom. the less cool part is that for the compact ones that fold up, you're looking at hundreds if not thousands of dollars. the smallest one i'm aware of is the louët erica, which folds down to 42x62x42cm (16.5x24.5x16.5") and gives you 40cm (16") of weaving width. i feel like that's impressively small. you'd have to decide for yourself if that's enough to justify the $500 usd/$800 aud price tag, though.

finally, we've come to folding floor looms. i don't think someone who's never woven before should run out and buy one of these unless money is just literally not at all a concern for you, but they are basically the dream for those of us trapped in crappy rentals, and it seemed weird to leave them out when i'd come this far.

some floor looms are various levels of collapsible. to be clear, this does you absolutely no good at all when you're actively weaving, because you have to unfold them to weave, but it does you a lot of good if you'd like to have a floor loom and still have the ability to, say, walk through the living room when you're not actively using the loom.

most relevant to our discussion about small weaving footprints, some looms fold up entirely. they are incredibly fucking expensive and incredibly fucking cool. the two that i'm most aware of are the leclerc compact and the schacht wolf line, both of which fold up to about half of their unfolded depth. they're still not small—i think that they're both the better part of 75cm (30") wide and tall, so even if they fold down to 40cm (16") deep, they're still 75cm wide and tall. which is Fairly Large, though much better than having something 80cm deep sitting in the middle of the floor.

this was a very, very long post, but hopefully makes it clear that there's a surprisingly wide range of options, and they all have advantages and trade offs. if you're asking my opinion, my suggestion would be to try something—anything—with a backstrap setup and see how you feel about it. maybe you love it and keep at it forever, in which case you're in good company: there are entire cultures that weave exclusively on backstrap looms.

if you like producing cloth but don't love the backstrap setup, or don't like using your body to tension the warp, you have a lot of other options, and you're out maybe ten dollars of dowels.

personally, my next loom is probably going to be a pin loom. unless i win lotto, in which case it's going to be a house that has a weaving studio and like four floor looms in it. but probably a pin loom.

#weaving #i really hope that this was helpful #i get so excited about solving problems that i sometimes go way too hard #but i love thinking about this kind of thing #sorry for infodumping #also weaveblr i didn't forget about warp weighted looms i just don't think that they're super practical #admittedly i am biased by sharing my house with three cats #but also all the learning to weave content is...not on those #if it weren't for the cats my next loom would be warp weighted tho #fibercrafts #fiber art #textiles #smartest raccoon i know #(it's an ironic tag)

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months

Text

Becoming Phantom - Clone^2 (and by extension, clone danny)

I said I would make it, and so i did! Here's a little ficlet of how danny became Phantom - the human ghost-fighting vigilante in the clone^2 and clone Danny au. Since this does include themes of dissection/vivisection, i'll put in a minor trigger warning list down below.

TW: experimentation - implied torture and vivisection/dissection of ghosts TW: Non-graphic mentions of injuries and blood

TLDR: Danny's parents have been catching ghosts ever since the portal was opened after Danny's lab accident. Danny knows this because he can hear them screaming from the basement. After finally telling his friends about it, he resolves to free the ghosts - and he does. He ends up having a conversation with one of the ghosts, and comes to the decision that he will catch ghosts before his parents do to prevent this kind of harm from happening again.

word count check: 4.9k

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

His parents caught another ghost.

Danny can tell because he can hear their screaming from the kitchen, even with the doors closed. It's horrific - the voice is doubled over itself like something out of one of Sam's demonic horror movies, and Danny's heart races like he's run a mile at the sound.

It warps and twists, and almost sounds like its saying 'please.'

He rubs his chest uncomfortably, and pushes his breakfast away from him. His appetite lost and his stomach churning with a deep sense of dread.

Across the table, Jazz notices, and her eyes narrow dangerously at his hand gripping his shirt - right over his heart. He just got out of the hospital last month, and he knows what she's thinking - they don't want to have to send him back.

"I'm fine." He blurts out immediately, dropping his hand. He's not fine, but it's because he feels ill as the lights above flicker and another terrified shriek echoes through the floorboards. He swallows, ill. "I- it's just-" his eyes flick to the door to the lab. "the lab."

Jazz's lips press into thin line, and she pushes her chair back and stands up. "I hate that they're doing this," she says, stomping towards the lab. "It's inhumane, Danny. They're people too, even if they don't look like us!"

Before the portal, Danny might've just shrugged his shoulders and not said anything. He never really cared about his parents' ghost hunting stuff, but figured that since they knew more about it, their rants about them being unfeeling were correct.

Now, though? When he's been woken up in the middle of the night by the house rattling and his ears ringing with the pained cries of one of the ghosts' in the basement? His heart beating so fast he thinks he's been transported back to the lab a month ago, lying on the floor after being electrocuted by the portal?

He's really not so sure anymore. And he thinks he's starting to agree with Jazz. This isn't right. He doesn't think so, at least.

An unsure 'hm' comes out of his throat, eyes tracking Jazz as she swings the heavy metal door open and breathes in deep. "HEY!" She yells, her voice miraculously sounding out over the ghost screaming. The screams stop. "MOM! DAD! CUT THAT OUT, YOU'RE SCARING DANNY!"

There's no sound, and Danny sighs a breath of relief. Not that it does much to slow his anxious heart, the shrieks are burned into his ears, and he's already thinking about leaving now rather than later. He can meet Tucker at his house.

His parents - his mom, actually - appears at the entrance to the lab, her hands drip bright, ectoplasm green, and there's splatters of it across the front of her suit and goggles like blood. Danny feels white in the face, and Jazz looks enraged.

Mom pulls off her goggles, frowning apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Your father and I just got carried away, we caught this one just this morning by the park." She says, as if that makes it any better. Danny's eyes are glued to the ectoplasm dripping onto the floor. "We'll wait until you get to school."

Danny wishes they wouldn't do this at all. But he just nods mutely, unable to make his lead-heavy tongue do anything. Jazz speaks for him, and whirls on mom like a tornado about to break loose. "At school? This shouldn't be happening at all - it's wrong, mom!"

Jazz has been the only one vocal about this whole thing ever since mom and dad came home with a ghost trapped in one of their nets - their thermos wasn't working - while Danny was on sick leave after he got out of the hospital. Danny still remembers the utter shock he was in after mom and dad came in dragging it behind them.

The ghost looked like a grown woman, but it - she - had the brightest blue eyes he'd ever seen, and ice-like skin. She'd been thrashing in the net, saying something in a hissy, whispering language that made static build behind his eyes. It had surprised him that he could somewhat make out what she was saying.

It had been fascinating. Up until the screaming started.

He watches Mom make a face that looks like endeared annoyance, and she turns to Jazz with a light sigh. "You're a kind girl, Jazz, but ghosts aren't human, sweetheart. We've told you this." And they have, multiple times. It's become a reoccurring argument.

"Does it matter?!" Jazz exclaims, her cheeks turning an inflamed red with indignancy. She looks appalled. "They're still in pain! You're hurting them!"

Danny silently nods, but they don't see. Jazz is glaring at mom with the burning anger of the sun and Mom just looks exasperated. "Your father and I know this already, Jazmine." Mom says, her arms crossing across her chest.

Jazz's mouth drops open.

Danny's almost does the same. The bone-chilling blood rush leaves him shivering, and his vision spots out in black, fuzzy dots for a few seconds. Maybe, he thinks, it's his heart stopping again with the cold horror.

They know this?

And they're still doing it?

He thought he knew his parents - now he's second-guessing himself.

Jazz is just as much at a loss for words as Danny is. And then her expression shutters closed with a fury-kind of icy. "Danny," she says, still staring down their mom. "Go get your stuff, I'm driving you to school."

Normally, he hates how.. parent-y Jazz gets. She acts like a second mom, and like a helicopter one to boot. It drives him nuts on the worst of days. Right now though, he's already rising to his feet before he's even opening his mouth.

"Okay." He croaks, and beelines it up the stairs for his backpack. He doesn't look at mom when he comes back down, he doesn't think he can. He can see her still-dripping hands in the corner of his eye though.

------

"Man, you look like shit." Tucker says the moment Danny sits down in their homeroom class, he's frowning. Danny doesn't say anything to him, he just grunts and drops his head into his arms.

Sam, sitting behind Danny, leans across the aisle and smacks Tucker in the arm. He yelps in pain, and rubs the spot she hit with a glare. "He's right though," Sam says, leaning over his shoulder. "You looked like you were gonna yak over the front row when you walked in."

"It's good that you didn't," Tucker grumbles, "Dash would've killed you."

Danny, despite the shit morning, manages a smile and tilts his head so that his cheek is resting on his arm instead. "Mr. Lancer wouldn't've let him." Sam sniffs, and her fingers are in his hair already - it's been growing out for a while now. He meant to cut it but then the lab accident happened, and he was in the hospital, and then on sick leave, and -- long story short, he was growing it out.

Besides, Sam pulling it back for him was relaxing, and he feels the tension bleeding out of his shoulders already. His anxious heart slowing. "Yeah, he's been weirdly protective since the accident." He says. It was kinda nice, Dash was being forced to back off - finally, more than he was before.

"Probably because if you have a heart attack in class from Dash bullying you, he'll be liable." Tucker snorts, relaxing back into his chair. Up front, the three of them see Dash shoot them a glare from over his shoulder. He probably heard them -- and Tucker doesn't help by giving him an innocent, too-wide grin.

There's a tug, and Danny lifts his head slightly as Sam ties his hair back with whatever hairband she procured out of nowhere. And she says she's not a witch, honestly.

His smile falters, however, when Sam leans back around his shoulder with a frown still evident on her face. "Seriously though, what's up? You were really pale -- paler than normal, that is."

Danny doesn't really wanna tell them - he's kept the whole 'my parents are torturing ghosts' thing to himself ever since he first woke up to the house shaking. It wasn't any secret though that there were ghosts now actually 'infesting' Amity Park though, they'd been popping up ever since the portal turned on.

But Jazz says talking about things helps alleviate stress of what's burdening you, and Danny doesn't usually listen to her. She's his annoying older sister, of course he doesn't. But... this... wasn't really something he wanted to keep secret forever, either.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he averts his eyes. It's like tearing off a band-aid, Danny, he thinks, just... blurt it out. "My parents are torturing ghosts in the basement." He says, only to immediately wince as both Sam and Tucker drop their jaws.

"What!?" They both yell in unison, and Danny ducks his head down as everyone else sitting around them turn their heads.

"Not so loud!" He hisses, peeking through his arms and glaring at the both of them. They both grimace, embarrassment dusting red across Sam's face and Tucker's darkening slightly, and duck their heads down towards him.

"Sorry, what!?" Tucker whispers back at him, his face all scrunched up in disbelief. Sam's redness has faded into pale horror and -- and yeah, yeah, Danny gets it. He feels that way too.

"They keep catching the ghosts and dissecting them." He whispers, and god, he feels sick just saying it. Tucker's face falls slack, and he looks about as ill as Danny feels. "I don't- I don't know what to do about it, I keep waking up to them screaming, and Jazz keeps getting into fights about it with them."

"Oh my god." Sam mutters, her hands pressing together and covering her mouth. Danny nods mutely, chewing on his lip.

"They know its hurting them." He adds, and its still dizzyingly terrifying to think about. He thought he knew his parents. He thought he knew them. He guesses that saying of people being multi-faceted was true. "They don't care."

Sam and Tucker both look green. Or as close to green as they can get. "That's- that's inhumane." Sam breathes, and Danny huffs sardonically - funny, that's what Jazz said this morning. That's what she keeps saying. "And there's really nothing you can do?"

"Not unless I go into the lab myself and release them," he mutters, hiding half his face in his arms. "And I haven't been back in there since I got electrocuted." His parents wouldn't allow it, and it's not like he he was chomping at the bits to go back inside anyways.

...Hm.

"I'm sorry, Danny." Tucker says, his voice low and horrified, "that's- that's awful."

Yeah. He knows.

--------

This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea.

Where was Danny you ask? Sneaking down into the lab at sometime past midnight, long after his parents have gone to bed. It's been a week since he said, sarcastically, that the only thing he could do was release the ghosts in the lab, and it hasn't left his head.

Even though he was utterly terrified as he took slow, sneaky steps down the stairs. The thought had been keeping him up at night. He could do it. He could go down into the lab and let them go. He could do something.

It's not like his parents had put a lock on the door. He hadn't even thought about it - if he thought about it, he'd back out. So when he heard his parents go to sleep that night, he waited an hour before sneaking out.

Every sound felt so loud, and his heart had raced in his ears as he creaked open the door to the lab, and closed it behind him for good measure. And his hands were shaking as he reached the bottom of the steps and stepped into the lab for the first time in two months.

And good god, did he almost regret it. There were ghosts in cages of all kinds, and ectoplasm seeping down onto the floor of their cages. They were clutching their chests, of which bled sluggishly through stitched up y-scars. They were moaning, and crying, curled up in the back like frightened animals. And there was a metal table in the center of a room that was stained green, green, green.

"Oh my god." He breathes, horror driving itself up into his throat with the churning of his gut. That's another thing he almost regrets - if only because half a dozen ghosts all snap their heads towards him, and it becomes pandemonium in an instant.

Rattling, yelling, crying, they're all screaming at him. Either to tell him to go away, to give them mercy, or to spew threats at him. It's in that same, hissy language that he's heard before. Whispery, echoing, and overlapping like multiple languages being played backwards and forwards at the same time. It gives him an immediate headache as his mind tries to comprehend and translate it.

Go away. Don't hurt us. Go away. I'll tear you apart. Leave. Leave. LEAVE.

It's all so much. Danny wants to throw himself up the stairs and back up to his room in a prey-driven instinct to flee, flee, flee. He doesn't. He covers his ears and digs his nails into his hair.

He yells. "I'M NOT LEAVING. BE QUIET!" and somehow, it silences everyone in an instant. He looks up, and everyone is staring at him, their multi-colored eyes burning into him.

Tentatively, he lowers his hands, they're shaking. He's still so scared. But courage isn't a lack of fear, its doing something despite it. He blinks back the terrified sting in his eyes, and twiddles with his hands. "I'm- I'm not here to hurt you." He stammers, "I promise. I'm not my parents."

It's silent for a long moment, and then there's an animalistic-like hiss from his left. He turns his head, and there's a ghost of a man curled up in a cage, staring him down with a thunderous look on his face. "Liar." He hisses, his voice warping in that hissy language. There are goat-like horns protruding from his head, and his eyes are yellow and slitted. He's dripping ectoplasm from his chest.

Danny swallows the bile in his throat.

And frowns. "I'm not lying." He says, and the ghost doesn't get hostile, much to his surprise. But there's a ripple of murmurs that spreads through the room like a wave at a ballgame. The ghost that spoke stares at him, then squints.

"You understand us, child?"

And - okay, Danny doesn't like the 'child' comment. He's fourteen for goodness sake, and he bristles silently like it's an insult, but he's no there to argue, he's here to help. So he swallows his pride and starts to walk towards the closed portal.

His legs are shaking, he's afraid they're gonna give out beneath him. The portal scares him, more than it did when he first saw it. But maybe that's because when he first saw it, he hadn't almost died from it.

His heart is pounding in his ears. Is it going to give out again, will he have to go to the hospital again? Despite his insistence that he's fine, Danny's heart hasn't beat right ever since the accident. He's checked. He spent an hour every night with his fingers pressed against the pulse point at his throat, at his wrist, terrified of the slow-beating he could feel thrumming against the skin.

Hearts aren't supposed to beat that slow - that much he knows. He's afraid he's going to drop dead if it drops any lower.

"Of course I do." He swallows, glancing back at the ghost. Everyone's eyes are on him, they burn into him, curious, wary, afraid. He's in front of the portal, in front of the keypad to open it. Shit, did dad put in a password? "Am I- am I not supposed to?"

He pauses to look at the ghost, and the man has moved to stare at him from a new angle in his cage - god he's gonna need to find the key. Mom and dad probably have it in their desk, right?

The ghost is silent. "...No. You're not." He says, and his head tilts to the side as Danny mentally translates in his head. he looks at Danny like he's trying to inspect him, like he's trying to look into him like his parents have looked into the ghost. "What is your name, child?"

"I'm not a child." He bites out, and immediately winces. Shit- he just said not to antagonize them. But the ghost doesn't look offended. In fact, he just grins a sharp, toothy grin like a shark, and raspy giggles and titters echo through the room.

...That's... probably a good sign. "Um," he continues, and turns his back to the keypad. Dad's birthday? He punches into the keys. "I'm- uh, Danny. Danny Fentom- Fanton- Fenton. My parents are- uh, the ones who took you guys." The keypad buzzes and the bar spots red. Wrong password. Dammit.

"Phantom." The ghost says, and the name crawls like a spider across the walls, sneaking up his spine and ringing in the air like the leftover taste of rain and thunder. the rest of the ghosts whisper it amongst themselves.

Danny shivers, it feels like a weight in his chest. It's Fenton, he thinks, but doesn't correct. He doesn't want to push his luck with the being that could tear him apart. "Uh, sure."

He punches in mom's birthday. Wrong. He puts in Jazz's. Wrong. "How come we haven't seen you down here, Phantom?" The ghost asks, and Danny shrugs helplessly. "You are the Danny that the unknown girl yells about?"

He tries his own birthday. Wrong. Fuck. What's the password? The tremor in his limbs worsens with his anxiety, and he tries to keep his breathing steady. What if he can't get this open? What if he can't get them out? He nearly forgets to answer the ghost, and licks his dry lips. "Um- yeah, that's me. The Danny guy." He says, turning to the cages again. "And uh, I don't come down here because my parents don't allow it."

The ghost, uh, goat-man? Tilts his head, there are whispers throughout the room that pick up. And Danny feels like the kid late to an all school assembly and now has to walk past the whole school to find a seat.

Goat-man smiles again, or bares his teeth? "You are the reason why the human doctors haven't cut into us more than they already have." And- that's- that's good? He thinks?

"That's- good, right? You- you don't want to be cut open, so it's good that I, uh, indirectly stopped it a few times?"

A round of titters goes through the room again. The man's grin widens inhumanly so, and Danny's heart spikes with fear. "Yes, it's a good thing, Phantom child." He says, "Why is it that your parents do not let you come down here?"

Danny stares, and swallows again, dry. The back of his neck tingles, and he tastes electricity on his tongue. "I had an accident down here, um, nearly two months ago." His eyes flick to the cable cord where the portal was plugged in, and his heart flutters with the images of green that got burned behind his eyes. He looks away. "The portal, it, ah, electrocuted me. I was in the hospital because it nearly killed me."

"It did kill you." The ghost says immediately, and terror fills up in Danny like water flooding a room. What? What? What? He was alive. His heart was beating, he was alive. "But only for a moment. You've been touched by death, Phantom."

That was so fucking ominous. And terrifying. And terrifyingly ominous. And also really horrifying. Danny does a swift pirouette and turns back to the keypad. Time to figure out the passcode and not think about that, ever again, actually.

"Wow." He rasps, his mind numb as he punches in a random code of numbers and gets a red screen. "How reassuring. Tell death I want a refund." He gets laughter again, and his shoulders scrunch up to his ears.

"It is the reason you can understand us, then." The ghost says behind him. "We are not speaking your language child - rather, you are speaking ours."

Again. Fucking ominous. Danny furrows his brows and stares hard at the keypad - if he was dad, and he wanted to put a password lock on his lifetime achievement in something that was easy to remember and equally important, what would it be?

Oh. Right.

He bites back a groan - how obvious. Danny's an idiot. Or maybe just so scared witless that his brain isn't working right. "Fudge." He grumbles, and punches it into the keypad. It dings green.

Of - fucking - course. Danny rolls his eyes.

He hears a hiss, and Danny rapidly scuttles back as the massive blast doors twisted open like something out of a scifi movie - he'd be geeking out if he wasn't aware of his own rapid heartbeat. Like a gun charging up, an unearthly green glow appears at the back of the tunnel an d then rapidly moves towards him, growing larger and larger.

Danny flinches, half-convinced its going to hit him. He was going to be vaporized, and he brings up his arms to protect himself. But nothing happens, and he peeks open an eye that he closed when the ghost from before murmurs for him to open them.

The portal is - is, well. Indescribable. It fills the dark room with its glow, swirling like a those weird, shimmering liquid dyes put into martini glasses in those aesthetic gifs on the internet. And the light it casts on the walls shimmers and moves like the aurora borealis.

Danny is speechless. It's... oddly beautiful. And terrifying. There's a whole new world in that dimension - if he steps through he won't be on earth anymore.

And... his parents wanted to eradicate the people on the other side of it?

He whirls on foot, his back to the portal - a thing that fills him with dread. his shaking - its worse. Danny almost thinks his feet will give out. "Do - do any of you know where mom and dad keep the keys to the cages?" He asks, but he's already stalking towards the desk on the other side of the room.

The people in the cages grow restless, and they've been silent for the most part - but with the portal open, and him going to find the keys, they'd begun to grow talkative. They were moving more in the cages, talking to each other, excitement filling the air with so much hope Danny could feel it resonating between his ribs.

A new voice, quiet and feminine, speaks up on the opposite side of the goat-man's cage. She's closer to the desk, and she has also been cut open. There are black tears staining her face, and her shock white hair floats like she's underwater. Immediately, on instinct, Danny's head supplies him with a word.

Banshee.

"In the bottom drawer, Phantom." She whispers, her voice lilting and melodic. Her pitch black eyes follow him across the room. "I've seen them put it there after putting us back into our cages."

He nods mutely, and again feels horrified by their treatment from his parents. His pace quickens to the desk, and just as the banshee woman said, there are keys in the bottom drawer sitting on top of a bunch of research papers that have a suspicious green stain on them.

Danny ignores the stain and grabs the keys, holding them up as he closes the drawer. When he turns back to the cages, all eyes are on him. "Um," he rasps, "I found the key." Who do I free first?

His eyes land on the banshee woman first, she's the closest to the desk. And in an arc he follows the lineup to the other side side of the room. He moves to the banshee woman's cage first, and she perks up as he kneels down to the door.

"I'll- I'll go in a circle, first." He announces, fingers fumbling with the key as he inserts it into the hole. The banshee woman had her fingers - clawed and knife-like, capable of tearing out his throat in an instant - around the bars of her confinement. She was staring at him intently.

He hesitates, and looks up. Her eyes are pitch black, he noticed this before, but this close its like its threatening to suck him in and send him swirling through a blackhole. "If- if I free you," he stammers, licking his lips, "will you attack me?"

The banshee woman bares her razor teeth at him, and reaches through the bars to touch his face. It takes all Danny's restraint not to flinch as her nails drag down his cheek softly. "No," she says, "you're freeing us, Phantom. We will not attack you."

Danny.. will just have to take her word for it. He nods, and with a sharp twist of his wrist unlocks the cage with one hand, and flings open the door with the other. In an instant, the banshee dives forward -- Danny thinks she's lunging at him, and flinches violently.

She goes through him instead, leaving him with a bone-deep chill and a heartbeat in his ears. He turns, and sees her dive through the portal like a swimmer diving into a pool.

There is silence throughout the room. And then everyone else begins to clamor once again, just like when Danny first walked in. Danny hurries to hush them - he said he was going around the room! He'll free them, but be quiet, or you'll wake his parents!

He rushes for the next cage, and one by one opens each and every cage. There are cheers, and thank yous, and cries of gratitude. He has to help the weaker ghosts out of their cage and limp them towards the portal. His shirt and hands are stained green with their blood.

(When he goes back up to his room later, he throws it off and throws it away. He can't stand the sight of it, and he scrubs his hands until they're raw.)

It's a lot for Danny to not burst into tears, or to throw up. Until finally he reaches goat-man's cage, and releases him. He is one of the ghosts too weak to fly on their own, and so Danny lets him lean against him and helps him to the portal.

"Will you be okay?" He asks once they are at the threshold, the portal hums softly this close to it. Almost like its trying to beckon Danny inside, like a siren song. Danny ignores it. "Will everyone else?"

"We will heal, Phantom." Goatman says, holding a hand to his chest. He looks tired, this close, and Danny can feel him looking at him, even without any pupils to show it. "Once back inside the Infinite Realms our bodies will heal on its own."

Danny nods silently, and his frown begins to wobble. The stress he's been under is finally starting to take its toll, and he is emotionally exhausted. There is still a lingering taste of fear in the air that doesn't belong to him - but the ghosts that have left. "I'm sorry." He croaks, his voice cracking. "I didn't - I didn't think you guys were human. I'm sorry."

The ghost's expression softens, but he still looks stern. "We aren't human." he says, and Danny frowns, confused. The ghost continues, and reaches out a long finger to tap against Danny's chest, where his heart is. "But do not think for a moment that humanity can be measured by the sound of a heartbeat, child. We are just as humane as you living can be, and we are just as sentient and sapient as you. Do not forget that, and you will not become your parents."

There's nothing for Danny to say to that, except nod once again. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, made of lead. "This will happen again," he continues, and his eyes prick, "they're gonna keep catching ghosts and bringing them down here." And hurting them.

Goatman nods curtly, and raises an eyebrow at Danny. "What will you do to stop them, Phantom?" He asks, "You could keep releasing them after they have been already caught, but that will not stop the pain they face under the hands of your parents."

He's right. He's right. And if Danny keeps releasing them afterwards, his parents will grow suspicious. They'll start sticking around trying to catch whoever is freeing the ghosts. And Danny doesn't want to face what will happen if his parents realize that he's the one freeing ghosts.

His eyes flicker rapidly around the room, trying to think of a solution - what could he do? What can he do?

His eyes land on the thermos sitting on the table.

"I... I could catch ghosts?" He says, unsure, and looks back to the ghost. He nods, beckoning for Danny to continue. "I can catch them in the thermos before my parents do, and then release them back to the Zone."

"That will work." The ghost says, "The thermos doesn't hurt to be in, it's merely cramped. Will you follow through on this?"

"Yes."

The ghost smiles at him a third and final time, his teeth glinting in the green portal light. "Then good luck, Danny Phantom."

He lets go, and disappears into the portal.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #tw mentions of blood #dpdc #clone^2 #tw mentions of experimentation #dp dc #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc au #dp x dc au #danny fenton is a clone #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny: my name is danny fentom - fenton #ghost: hello danny phantom #i thought that was a clever way for danny to get his 'phantom' vigilante name. although if that hadnt happened he still would've chosen #phantom as his vigilante name. it just would've happened differently. danny being terrified of the ghosts but still going through with #freeing them anyways #will rpobably reblog later with a continuation of him actually deciding to sneak out as phantom. but thats a hard maybe.#its a danny phantom fic so its kinda expected for them to be OSME kind of horror elements to it. thats the best part!#i left a few details out like how the portal light made danny's hair look white from a certain angle from where the light was hitting it #alerting all ghosts but danny that danny has been affected by the infinite realms in some way and was not as human as he seemed.#altho that was obvious by the fact that he could understand ghostspeak when no living being should be able to #ghost: dont judge humanity by the sound of a heartbeat #i had another tag i was gonna put here - what was it??? will add later if. i remember #NOW I REMEMBER #parental ambuigity from the fenton parents. are they good are they bad? up to interpretation

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childrenofcain-if · 1 month

Note

Say what will happen if MC got kidnapped, and the kidnapper taunts Elias that if he didn't give them a certain amount of money within the given time period they will send one of MC's fingers for every hour that exceeds that time limit.

I'm curious what type of person Elias is when stressed or threatened, can you tell us Author?

elias sat at his desk, the heavy wooden surface cluttered with papers he’d long forgotten about. the blinds were drawn, leaving the room dim, with only a sliver of light cutting through the dust-filled air. the silence was thick, and so damn oppressive that it wrapped around him like a shroud. his phone lay in the center of the desk, an inert thing, but it held his gaze like a viper poised to strike.

when it finally rang, the sound was almost a relief, breaking the tension that had settled in his chest like a stone. he reached for it slowly, the way one might approach a wild animal, carefully, deliberately. the cold metal of the phone was familiar in his hand, but today it felt different, heavy with the weight of what was about to happen.

he didn’t say anything when he answered. he just waited, his breath quiet, controlled, like the air before a storm.

“hello there, sir,” the voice on the other end was too smooth, too calm, like the surface of a dark lake that hid something monstrous below. “i believe we have something you’re missing.”

the words were almost a whisper, but they hit elias like a punch to the gut. he swallowed hard, forcing the rising panic back down where it belonged. he couldn’t afford to lose control, not now.

“what do you want?” his voice was steady, but underneath it was a barely-contained tremor of rage, of fear. he gripped the phone tighter, his knuckles going white.

“money,” the voice replied, as if it were asking for something as trivial as a cup of sugar. “how does 50 million sound? and i think twenty-four hours should be enough time to gather it.”

elias’s mind was already racing, calculating, planning, but there was a part of him that couldn’t move past the icy fear crawling up his spine.

“and if i don’t?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

there was a pause, a soft, deadly silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice came back, even colder than before. “then we’ll start sending pieces. a finger, perhaps. every hour you’re late.”

it was like a knife to the heart, the pain so sharp and sudden that elias almost couldn’t breathe. his vision narrowed, tunneling in on the phone, on the voice that was now laughing softly in his ear. he wanted to throw it, to smash it against the wall, but he forced himself to stay calm, to focus.

“put them on the phone,” he demanded, his voice low, almost a growl. there was no room for negotiation in his tone, no space for argument.

the kidnapper laughed again, a sound that made elias’s skin crawl. “you’re not really in a position to make demands, sir. but since i’m feeling generous…”

there was a rustling sound, muffled voices, and then a new voice came on the line, shaky, scared, so small it made elias’s heart ache.

“dad?”

for a moment, the world stopped. the air in the room grew so thick that it pressed down on him from all sides. he could barely think, barely breathe, but he forced the words out, desperate to hold onto the connection.

“i’m here, little apple,” elias said, his voice cracking just a little. “i’m here, and i’m going to fix this, okay? just—.”

before he could say more, the kidnapper was back, the cruel smirk evident even through the phone. “that’s enough of that,” the voice said, and then, almost as an afterthought, “twenty-four hours. don’t be late.”

the line went dead.

for a long moment, elias just sat there, staring at the phone in his hand. the silence in the room felt heavier now, thick with the weight of everything he hadn’t said, of everything he needed to do.

he stood up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, and began to pace, his mind racing, turning over every possible scenario, every contingency.

he couldn’t think about the fear, about the trembling voice that still echoed in his ears. he couldn’t think about what would happen if he failed. he just had to move, to act, to find a way to bring the little light of his life back.

as the hours ticked by, elias made call after call, his voice sharp, each word an authoritative command. there was no room for error, no space for hesitation. he needed results, and he needed them now.

the clock on the wall kept ticking, each second dragging him closer to the deadline. each tick echoed like a heartbeat, a reminder that time was running out. but beneath the fear, beneath the anxiety gnawing at him, there was something else—a fire, a cold, burning determination that had gotten him through every single trial before this one.

he would get you back. there was no other option.

as dawn began to break, elias made one final call. it was to the man he always kept as a backup, the last option when nothing else gave him the result he was looking for.

elias’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but there was a steel in it that hadn’t been there before. “make them pay,” he said, each word like a stone dropped into a still pond. “make them dearly regret even being born.”

there was a pause on the other end, a soft intake of breath, and then, “it will be done.”

he hung up the phone, his hand shaking slightly as he placed it back on the desk. the room was still, the only sound the ticking of the clock, marking the seconds until he could inevitably bring you home. and as he stared out at the pale morning light, a single thought blinking in his mind.

he was going to burn the city to find you, and no one would dare to stand in his way.

#so... i guess the short answer is that nobody involved is going to be left alive #after the inevitable torture ofc 😋#fbi is scared of elias’s wild card #if: the ballad of the young gods #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive story #twine wip

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imtryingbuck · 5 months

Text

Epilogue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 1,042

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. fluff. swearing.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

A/N: The love and support throughout this series has been incredible! Thank you to each and every one of you, you’re amazing💞

Masterlist Series Masterlist

A few years after her parents passing away the family were back in the church saying their goodbyes to their uncles and aunts, one by one.

On Georgia’s eighteenth birthday Y/n gave her the metal tin containing the wooden animal toys Grace had given her when she was a child. Georgia though eighteen loved them. Loved the fact that she had something of Y/n’s when she was child.

Now that Natalia had turned eighteen Georgia handed her the metal tin, telling her the same thing Y/n had told her.

Natalia smiling at the thought of handing it down to her daughter that was still growing in her stomach, knowing one day that she’ll be passing it down to her daughter and she’ll continue the tradition.

In the years that followed Georgia had expanded the number of buildings of Grace and Bunny’s Haven, each building having a memorial plaque dedicated to her grandmother she never met, her mom and dad. And even after all the years that passed without her parents being there, people would put flowers in front of the plaque, Georgia even caught a few people saying thank you to Y/n for giving them their freedom back.

“Georgia, come on we’re going to be late” Sammy says from the doorway, looking at his sister as she gets up from her seat.

“Just give me a second, just need to put this folder away”

“New people?”

“Yeah, Billy said they’d be here next week.”

Sammy nods and takes her bag for her, holding the door open they make their way outside where a sleek black car awaits them. Opening the car door for her he mumbles under his breath about how it wouldn’t kill her to say thank you which she sticks her tongue out at him.

Throughout the car ride Georgia’s knee starts to bounce up and down, going over her speech in her head she flinches slightly when she feels Sammy take her hand in his, squeezing lightly.

“It’s going to be fine”

“I hope so”

As the car pulls up to the gate Sammy shakes Georgia’s hand to gain her attention she looks up and gasps. The turn out was bigger than they expected.

Today was the unveiling of the bronze statue of Y/n and Grace hand in hand, Georgia had found a photo of her mom and grandmother when she was cleaning out her childhood home with her brothers, she spoke with her brothers about getting a sculpture to make a statue. It had taken a few years to do it, the sculpture told them that he wanted to take his time as it was a personal project. Georgia’s eyes widened when he told her his name, told her that Y/n had taken him, his sister and dad in. Robbie.

The statue stood tall and proudly with a large cloth covering it in front of the administration building.

“Thank you to all those that came out today, it truly means the world to me and my family. Today we mark twenty years since my parents passed away, and two days ago we celebrated forty five years of Grace and Bunny’s Haven opening, and today we are here to unveil the statue dedicated to my beautiful mom and grandmother who are the whole reason why there are now twenty seven havens darted around not only America but in other countries. My mom had a dream of creating a safe place, a sanctuary for those who were in need, my brothers and I have continued to expand her dream. Our children and now grandchildren are following in our footsteps.”

Georgia pauses when a round of applause begins. “Robbie here has created the statue we are here to unveil today, he didn’t tell me until afterwards that he was here when he was a child with his sister and father, I remembered him remembered running around playing tag with him and the other children, and I remember him being the master of hide and seek” again she pauses as everyone laughs.

“Before the rain comes and ruins our day, boys come on” Jamie, Stevie and Sammy move forward to stand next to Georgia, Natalia starts to a countdown that everyone joins in with, when they get to one the proud children of Y/n and Bucky pull down the cloth, revealing the perfect bronze statue of their mom as a child and their grandmother who they had never met but heard stories about.

The statue stood tall and proudly. Georgia couldn’t take her eyes off it no matter how hard she tried. Well no one could really.

It was beautiful.

“Thank you Robbie, thank you for everyone who came out today, thank you for your donations and support it means the world to us. There are some refreshments available inside, please enjoy the day. Thank you”

After having photos taken by a local photographer who worked for the newspaper, they all head inside. People sharing stories about being there when they were children, telling them how lucky they were to have been able to come to a place where no judgements were made, lucky that someone took the chance on them and helped them.

“You’re going to catch a cold you know?” Billy says making Georgia jump.

“D-do you think she’s proud of us?”

“Of course she is, so is your dad darling” Wrapping his arms around her he pulls his wife into his side, looking up at the statue of his mother in law he smiles softly.

“They’d be proud of all of us Georgie, I just know it” Jamie speaks as he walks over with his brothers.

All five of them stand in the pouring rain arm in arm staring at the statue. None of them knowing that the figures of Y/n, Bucky, Grace are standing behind them in the same stance as them.

Jamie was right. They were proud of all of their children, proud of their accomplishments, proud to call them their children.

As Georgia, Billy, Jamie, Stevie and Sammy head back inside Y/n and Bucky take one last look of their children and smile at each other before returning back to their family who was waiting on them on the other side, hand in hand.

<Previous

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obsidianstrawberrymilk · 1 year

Text

A short list of things I would have changed in HoO

It takes place ten ish years after the end of PJO. Percy and Annabeth aren’t a part of the seven but instead appear as cool older mentors to help out the Lost Hero trio. They both have careers and live in New York and go to Sally’s house for dinner every weekend.

Caleo isn’t a thing. In fact, let’s not even mention Calypso. At most we mention she was freed after the last war as idk proof demigods have some power or something.

More than 1 Asian character. Give this one ADHD and dyslexia bc shocker Asian kids can be disabled as well.

For that matter a properly disabled character. I have a deaf OC I would use if I rewrote the series.

Leo is aroace. His arc is about learning that his self worth doesn’t have to be tied to the people around him and his friends love and care about him and he doesn’t need romance to be complete. His flirting is overcompensation bc he doesn’t feel romantic or sexual attraction and is afraid he’ll be alone forever.

Drew and Piper become friends. Drew’s mean girl bullshit is outdated and boring and it would have been a lot cooler to see her icy exterior thaw and her help Piper with her charmspeck (explaining how Piper learned how to use it to begin with) and take on an older sister role

Neither Leo nor Piper become head councilors to their cabins because that’s dumb

Keep the chapter title style from PJO. It was so fun and one of the highlights of the series for me. The relatable nature of PJO in general was kinda lost in HoO and it’s a shame bc there was such a variety of characters for people to identify with there.

Give Reyna a girlfriend or at least a homoerotic friendship that can become an actual relationship in the next series or something

Frank is 14 and he and Hazel aren’t dating, they just have mutual baby crushes on one another.

For that matter what the fuck was ‘Frank is magically not fat due to Mars’s blessing’ bullshit? Frank is a fat character who stays fat but learns to be confident in himself and his body type.

Stop The Adultification of Hazel 2k23. Hazel is 13, she’s the youngest member of the seven and despite her trauma I think that should be obvious. I think emphasizing her relationship with Nico could be fun here - he’s in his 20s so him taking a more ‘that older sibling who toes the line between parent and sibling’ role here could be fun.

Also, I don’t want Hazel to have Hecate’s blessing or whatever. Between her being a magical horsegirl and the daughter of Pluto there’s already a lot of room to expand on her powers that was never used - I think doing more with her cursed jewels and metals powers and her learning the other aspects of her powers, like Shadow Travel, would be fun.

Instead I think having a daughter of Hecate as a part of the Seven would be cool, because we could still have a witchy character with mist manipulation and magic powers.

Give Jason an actual personality, please. Bro’s been a child solider practically since age 2 and has spent his whole life with the weight of other teenagers’ lives on his shoulders as praetor - give him perfectionism issues and anxiety. We’re told that he’s spent his whole life helping others compromise instead of being his own person - show that. Let his arc end with him deciding to try and live a mortal life and find out who he is beyond being a war general.

Show us that Octavian’s a piece of shit, don’t just tell us.

Leo and Piper are the ones who fall into Tartarus. Nothing romantic ever happens but we get heavy emphasis on their friendship and we get to see their grief over Leo’s mom and Piper’s grandfather respectively

Piper’s grandfather has died a few months ago and she cut her hair herself when her dad didn’t want to let her due to that (correct me if I’m wrong but it’s a tradition in Cherokee culture to cut your hair when a loved one dies, correct?), which is why it’s all uneven. A lot of her insecurities stem from going from growing up in rural Oklaholma (not in a reservation bc there aren’t any there) without much money to suddenly being catapulted into a millionaire Hollywood lifestyle and having everyone criticize everything about her and be really racist, all while her Dad drew farther away from both her and her grandfather. Her arc would be reconnecting with both her culture and Dad and learning to find who she is and her self worth again.

They defeat Gaea in a way that isn’t so anticlimactic and fucking stupid

#if anyone else wants to add on feel free to #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #hoo #riordan universe #piper mclean #leo valdez #jason grace #percy jackson #annabeth chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #reyna avila ramirez arellano #reyna arellano #heroes of olympus critical #hoo criticism #octavian

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her-power · 3 months

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So Called Chaos (Part Two: Modern single dad! e.m x fem reader)

❤️‍🩹🚨‼️18+ Minors DO NOT interact ‼️🚨❤️‍🩹

Trigger warnings/content warnings: Talk of suicide, talk of death, grief, hurt, comfort. Talk of PPD/PPA. Strong Language. Fluff. Lots of kissing, some petting, nothing explicit.

Summary: Full summary on Part One.

Word Count: 3.2k

(Reader POV)

You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your hair dripping wet from your shower. You stare at the scar that sat below your left breast and wraps around to your back was slowly starting to fade, which made you happy, it was a constant reminder of that horrible night five years ago. You sigh, opening the bathroom mirror, taking out your morning pills. 80 mg of Prozac, 1000mg of gabapentin for nerve pain, Excedrin twice a day for migraines, 800mg ibuprofen for muscle pain. You didn’t even bother to go over the nighttime list; you were tired of taking pills, but it had become your daily routine for the last three years since you left the hospital. Moving back to your parents’ house was a decision you and your psychologist made together, but you were set on starting over, leaving the place where your entire life ended. Your mother’s death after the accident was the tipping point, you weren’t sure if you could handle anymore loss, and there was speculation that your mother took her own life. Your father was diagnosed with early onset dementia, you tried to visit him at least twice a week. He still had his sense of humor, but there were times he would ask you about her…about him, and you had to smile, tell him that they were okay, and change the subject.

Moving back to Indiana was a fresh start, and it almost felt like fate to you when you ran into Eddie Munson. The boy you grew to love in a short amount of time, the boy you thought about even when you said your ‘I dos’ to your late husband. Your stomach churns when you think about Sam, your sweet, kind, beautiful husband, he held on until the very end, talking to you while you were pinned beneath the dashboard, the air freezing, the sound of sirens swarming around you. You didn’t know at the time he was impaled in the stomach by a piece of metal, that once they removed him and the piece of metal, he would bleed out and die. He knew he was dying, but he made sure to keep you talking. “Remember when we went to Aruba?”

“I can’t feel my legs…why is it so cold…”

“Keep talking to me, baby.”

“I can’t see you…where is Lily?”

“They got her out…”

“Sam…are we dying?”

“No…stay with me…”

“Do you think there’s waterfalls?”

You were delirious at that point, you were falling in and out of consciousness, your lungs were heavy, they rattled when you breathed in.

You grip the sink in front of you, a panic attack settling in, you didn’t want to take your anti-anxiety, you need to do the deep breathing. You need this anxiety to go away before you saw Eddie, you weren’t ready to show him this side of you yet, you weren’t ready to tell him what happened to you, your husband, and your daughter.

“We can keep her comfortable, but there is no brain activity…”

“I don’t understand…she was fine…” You whisper, the pain in your bones becoming unbearable, you felt your heart turning to stone.

“You have been the reason why she has been hanging on for these last six months, I know you probably don’t believe it, but she can hear you. It’s your choice what you want to do next.”

You inhale a sharp breath. “Let her be hooked up to machines or let her die? How does a mother make that decision?”

Tears fill your eyes, and you wheel yourself over to your three-year-old daughters' bedside. You take her little hand in yours. “I’m so sorry, baby girl.” You cry, kissing her palm and stroking her blonde curls. “You’re our little fighter. Daddy is waiting for you, okay? Don’t be afraid. I’ll find you.”

You sit on the floor of your bathroom, hyperventilating and you groan, holding your stomach. You let out a loud wail, full of anger and sadness. Your family never got justice; the drunk driver was released after only being in prison for a year. And you couldn’t bear the thought of staying in the same town where he resided.

You lean your head back, breathing in slowly through your nose and out your mouth. Deep breaths, baby. They’re coming I promise. Your heart rate slows, and your tremors disappear.

After giving yourself a few moments to calm down more, you step into your bedroom and get dressed. You toss an oversize knitted sweater over your head, black leggings, and your doc martens. You toss your hair up into a messy bun, dab your face in subtle make up and lip balm. You stretch your back, feeling your spine pop back into place and you grab your car keys.

You had texted him that you were on the way to the café, and he had asked you for your coffee order. When you pull into the lot, you are amazed at how quaint this place was. It must’ve been new; it was on the same strip of road where Miss Byer’s store was.

You spot Eddie’s hair as soon as you walk in, he’s making silly faces at Hunter who is sitting in his highchair, eating a cake pop. Eddie meets your eyes, and he smiles, standing up as you walk over to him. He hugs you tightly, and you look down at Hunter who gives you a large toothy grin.

“Oh hello, handsome, you look just like your Daddy.” You smile, gently tickling his cheek and he giggles. You sit down across from Eddie who hands you your coffee and Hunter goes back to eating his cake pop, while watching a toddler educational video on Eddie’s phone. Eddie leans his chin on his palm as he stares at you and you blush, sipping your coffee.

“You’re staring.” You giggle, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He laughs, leaning back in his seat. “It’s just wild that after all this time…”

“Yeah.” You smile, looking into his eyes. The same ones you fell in love with all those years ago; the eyes that held a story, even now.

“What have you been doing all these years?” He asks you, and you should’ve known that would’ve been a question he’d ask you. You swallow a lump in your throat, your leg bopping under the table.

“I graduated from college with a degree in English and teaching. I was an English teacher in the town I was living in for about ten years. Met my…husband at the school I was teaching at.” You smile at him, and he smiles sweetly at you.

“Where’s your husband now?” He asks.

Just tell him this part. Just tell him the first part of your tragic story. The rest will come later.

“He…he died, about five years ago.” Your eyes are welling up, but you don’t bother to push them back.

Eddie’s breath hitches and he lets out a huff. “Jesus, I’m so sorry.” He reaches over to grasp your hand and you take it willingly. You meet his eyes; they were sad for you.

“I’m okay.” You tell him with a grin. “I promise. I’m okay.”

You feel a damp, sticky hand pat the top of your hand and you look to see Hunter’s hand on top of yours, smiling at you. Your heart does a back flip as his blue eyes stare into yours, you take his little

“He likes you.” Eddie says with a chuckle. “He’s a lady’s man.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” You glance over at him, and he almost chokes on his drink.

“I barely had any ladies.” He laughs. “A lot of them just used me because I was in a band.”

You grin, Hunter grips onto your finger and you feel a certain love creep up on you that you have missed for so long. You make a silly face at Hunter who giggles, and then yawns. Eddie smiles, “He got up way too early this morning.” He brushes his curls from his little head. “He’s probably ready for a nap.”

You stare at Eddie, wondering if you should say what you’re about to say. “I’m sorry about Olivia.” You say gently. “I didn’t hear much about it, just that she passed, but…I’m really sorry.” You had known Olivia as an acquaintance, seeing her at parties when you were younger, or when you would sneak into the Hideout, from what you remember she was really nice.

Eddie stares at you and swallows hard, nodding his thanks. “I didn’t know you kept up with the trials and tribulations of Eddie Munson.” He jokes.

“Social media has it’s perks.” You laugh. “Robin posts a lot of pictures of this little guy.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs. “Yeah, she’s obsessed with him. She keeps telling Vicky she wants a baby.”

“That’s amazing.” You smile. “She should do it.”

Hunter makes a little squeal and giggles; you take that as a cue that he was getting tired, and it was time to go. Eddie stands up, pulling him out of the highchair and you all walk out of the café. A sudden pain jolts down your leg, causing you to lose your balance but you catch yourself.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Eddie asks, gripping your forearm while Hunter rests his head on his chest.

You try to laugh it off, but the pain was getting worse. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just some muscle spasms. The luxuries of getting older.”

Eddie could tell you were in more pain than you were letting on, and you knew you couldn’t drive. You clench your teeth, the pain radiating to your other leg as you lean awkwardly against the wall of the café. You wanted to scream at your body, for taking this moment and ruining it because of your shit damaged nerves and muscles.

“Sweetheart…you’re shaking.” He tells you gently. “Why don’t I drive you back to my place? I don’t know if I feel alright with you driving home like this. You can sit, relax, put your feet up and we can come back for your car later.”

“Eddie, I’m fine.” You sigh.

“You’re so not convincing.” He laughs and you stifle a giggle. He switches Hunter to the other side of his hip and gently takes his other arm and reaches out to you. “Come on, can you walk?”

“I can manage.” You say softly, and his arm wraps around your waist as he easily lifts you from the wall and you slowly walk together towards his truck. You lean against the passenger side door while he buckles Hunter in his car seat. You rummage through your purse to find your gabapentin, and quickly take the tablet, dry swallowing it. The medication would take affect soon, so you had to suffer with the pulsating pain for the next few moments, but you’d been through worse. Eddie shuts the door to the backseat and walks over to you, you smile at him, still gritting your teeth.

“You’re gonna tell me what this is when we’re back at my house, right?” He says, gently running his thumb over your cheek and you tremble.

“I’m fine, Eddie.” You whisper and he dips his head down to look into your eyes, giving you a sly smirk and you laugh. “It’s nothing serious. I’m just old.”

“Liar.” He smirks, opening the door for you and he slowly helps you step up into the truck. You roll your eyes, and he winks at you, shutting the door and you sigh.

“Da…Da…Da…Da…hee…hee…” Hunter says behind you, and you laugh.

“Yeah, your dad thinks he’s funny.”

“Fun…ee…” Eddie is stepping into the driver’s side and whips his head to look at Hunter.

“Did he just say funny?” Eddie looks at you, pure pride and excitement on his face. “He just said funny! Good job, buddy!”

You smile at his boyish face, and Hunter continues to say funny over and over again on the drive back to the house. Eddie is laughing, but also feeling extremely overstimulated with the repetition of the word. “He’s gonna keep saying it, isn’t he?”

You laugh. “Yup. Welcome to parenthood.”

By the time Eddie had pulled into his garage, Hunter was sound asleep. The medication you took was easing the pain, you were able to gently lower yourself out of his truck and follow him and a sleeping Hunter into the house. His drum set, guitar and musical equipment catches your eye as you walk up to two steps into the house and you smile, glad that he still kept his music talents going after all these years.

He quietly shuts the door to the garage, and you stand awkwardly in the kitchen. You feel his hand on your lower back. “Go sit down, I’ll be down in a minute.” He whispers and you nod, carefully making your way towards the couch. You flinch as you sit down, you stretch out your legs, wincing as another shooting pain radiates down your leg. You try to focus on something else besides the pain and look at the framed photographs on the wall. There was a nice one of Eddie and Hunter what looks like to be his first birthday and Hunter is holding a toy guitar. You see one of Olivia holding Hunter when he was just born, you had forgotten how pretty she was, and you could see where Hunter got his eyes from. There was a framed autograph picture and gold record of Master of Puppets. That makes you smile, and seeing all the Lord of the Rings merchandise that graced his walls. The pain subsides and you perch your feet up on the ottoman, staring up at the ceiling when you hear Eddie come walking down the hallway. He places the video monitor on the coffee table next to him, sitting down across from you.

“How long have you been in pain like this?”

You smirk, he gets right to it.

“Five years.” You whisper, pulling your left leg under you and stretching out your other leg.

His eyes widen. “Five years? What happened?”

You sigh. “Eddie, it was a long time ago. I just got some nerve damage and crappy muscles in my legs. It’s just something I have to live with.”

“What happened?” He asks you again and you sigh, pulling your hair out of your bun and letting it fall, rubbing your scalp to soothe the tightness.

“Car accident. We were hit by a drunk driver.” You whisper.

Eddie is quiet. “Is that how your husband died?”

You nod, stretching out your leg again, you wanted to leave out what happened to Lily for as long as you could. “That is how my husband kicked the bucket.” You lean forward to massage your calf and chuckle. “Sorry, my trauma response is dark humor.”

Eddie stares at you, pointing to your shoes. “May I?” You stare at him and then your shoes.

“What do you want with my shoes?”

He laughs. “I don’t want your shoes, dummy. Take them off.”

You stare at him and lean forward, untying your boots and kicking them off your feet. You stretch your toes and Eddie takes your foot, resting it against his knee.

“Where does it hurt the most?” He asks you, gently massaging the top of your foot.

“Eddie, you don’t have to do this.” You say, blushing at the softness of his fingers as they glide over the exposed skin of your ankle.

“You’re in pain, and I’m not a fan of people I care about being in pain.” He smiles at you. “Where does it hurt?”

You sigh, pointing to your middle calf area. “Here.”

He gently rubs his palm against your calf, and you groan, he stops and meets your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just…” You sigh, adjusting your position. “Why are you doing this?”

Eddie isn’t sure how to answer that, he isn’t sure why he’s doing it. He just knows he wants to; he wants to make you feel better. His hands continue to massage your calf, and he gently lifts your pant leg. The first thing he sees is the end of a stem of a tattoo, covering a large scar. The tattoo is three red roses, wrapped around a thin sword. Eddie glances up at you and sees that your eyes are filling with tears, and you have to look away from him.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Eddie leans towards you, cupping your cheek and you shake your head, tears spilling over your cheeks. You inhale, gasping as a sob escapes your lungs and he moves next to you on the couch, pulling you to him. He holds the back of your head and cradles you to his chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You…you didn’t…” You gasp and you have to pull back from him. “Eddie…I’m not…I’m not the girl you remember…there’s things that happened that completely changed the person I was.”

Eddie stares at your face. “I’m not the same boy you remember.”

You meet his eyes. “This was a mistake, coming here. Seeing you…there’s so many things that are coming back and so many feelings that I can’t even process right now. I can’t let you see this side of me, you’ve already seen too much.”

He whispers your name, reaching up to hold your face and you try to flinch away, but his hands are soft, and he instantly relaxes you. “What I see is a woman who is trying her damn best to keep her head above water, who experienced too much loss. What I see is a beautiful, strong, resilient woman who I can’t believe walked back into my life.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head. “Eddie…”

“If you want to leave, you can leave, but I’m telling you right now…there’s a reason we met at the bookstore. There’s a reason you’re here right now…after all this time.” His face is so close to yours and you can’t help but stare directly into his eyes.

“I can’t bring you into this…with everything you have going on.”

Tell him what happened to Lily, baby.

No. No. I can’t. I can’t. It’s too damaging. I don’t even like saying it.

The two of you can help each other.

No, no, Sam, please. I can’t. It’s not fair to him.

I think he loves you.

I loved you! And you died.

Tell him, baby.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, tears continuing to spill on your cheeks. This was too much; all of this was too much.

You take his hands away from your face, pressing your forehead against his. You couldn’t tell him.

Not yet.

You couldn’t tell him about your baby girl.

Your forever three-year-old.

Not yet.

So instead, you kiss him.

(Taglist - thank you for all your support my beauties, it means the world - @mysticpeachobject @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @fearless-wretch-insanity @darknesseddiem @amberolivia666

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fluff #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson series

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pleasepress1forfrontdesk · 4 months

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The Chains Are Heavy

(Levi's long awaited backstory, finally)

Special thanks to everyone who has been following and rp with me. You really have helped make this character more than he was meant to be.

(@fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency @tired-sayaka-ada @never-gets-sick @oscarsgallery @city-of-c0rpses @v-extreme-diminuendo @kijimha )

How did I get here again? It could all have been a simple life for me, but it wasn't. Ever since I became 10, I was rob. Robbed of my family, friends, goals, dreams, my childhood, and most importantly my innocence.

Not just my innocent mentally, but literally too. I lost my innocence of being a civil. They all hate me now. Rightfully so. After all I have been nothing but a danger to everyone around me. All I did was make things worse. This war could have ended quicker if it way for me....

How did I get here again....

Foul Ball

It all started on March 22, a day after my birthday and two days after my best buddy's birthday, Cooper. We have been friends since daycare and being in the nursery at church. Cooper was a year younger than me, he was a wild kid, always taking things to the risk or the extreme. Super fast as well, faster than all of the kids on the playground, running was one of his passions. Cooper once told me that when he grows up he'll become a track star. As silly as it sound he had my full support, because you could never say no to Cooper. You could never tell him what to do.

I on the other hand was the balance for Cooper's wild behavior. Much more soft spoken and tame for a 10 year old. I may have not been the fastest runner, but I sure did have a good arm at throwing things. I had a goal, to become the world's best baseball player. It was my dream after all, to be on the professional teams and be famous. I wanted to make my mom proud

I must admit some of my behavior is like that, mostly because I was a mommas boy. It was just her and I after all, which I didn't mind. Though sometimes Cooper would joke that his dad, who was also single, should marry my mom so that we can be brothers and live together. I always told him that we wouldn't need legal documents in order to be brothers. As long as we stick together we will always be brothers.

Well that promise didn't last long... Cooper and I wear out in the front yard of my house, playing baseball as usual. I was using my new metal bat that I got for my birthday, it was much stronger than my old wooden bat. We were having a fun time, Cooper was about to throw the ball until he arm suddenly dropped and let go of the ball.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I turned my head to see what Cooper was now looking at. My eyes widen and I start to feel the same sense of fear that Cooper might be feeling. Two black cars parked in my driveway, and five government agents came out of them. My heart skips a beat. It can't be.

I watched as the knocked on the front door of my home, my mom answering it a second later. The government agents start talking to her, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying, I could tell by the look on mom's face that this way good.

Cooper tugged on my sleeve. "You don't think the president actually signed that bill right?..." Cooper looked worried now, and I so was I. I clenched my fist into my shirt.

"He would only sign it if war ever started....." The realization dawned upon us both. My lips trembled. "I don't want to go to war...." I mumbled those words with tears falling from my eyes.

That was the last day I ever saw my mom again.

That was the day I was robed of everything.

Strike 1

A 10 year old out in the battlefields of war, that isn't something you saw everyday. But here I was, fearing that my life could end at any moment in these trenches. And it would be like this for the next 9 years.

It took some adjusting to, though there was no time to adjust. Hand a gun to a 10 year old and tell him to go to the trenches and figure it out. I wasn't even given training. They didn't care. They wouldn't care about me. I was a child who would get in their way.

I didn't blame them. After all this wasn't the military decision after all, it was the horrible president at the time who made this decision. What the Nimone government did was cruel. They went through every legal citizen document and determined who would be drafted into war. We already had plenty of men above 18 drafted, but it wasn't enough. With the law at the time, anyone who was above 10 years old, could be drafted if they were proved useful enough to be used.

And that's what upset me the most. That I was just some weapon in their eyes. A tool to be once and never again. I wasn't the only one upstairs though. Many parents and families were upstairs by this dumb decision. It wasn't just families either, it was our own men as well who were outraged by this decision.

Upon my first day at the military base I met the leader of my unit squad, Captain Ross. He was a tall and well built man, always having a cigarette in hand and giving cold gazes at everyone. It was scary first meetings him. After all, the captains in the Nimone are train and built to be unstoppable military weapons. Nothing can stop them, and they will not stop until they are dead.

Being compared to this grown man compared to me was quite scary contrast. I was just some tiny kid compared to him. We both looked at each other for the first time and I can tell by the look in his mustard yellow eyes that he was displeased. There was a scoff as Ross stared down at me. "Who the Hell put a 10 year old in my unit squad? This is a kid, he should be home, not here about to die for our country." At least Ross and I were on the same page. Who's mess up idea was this anyways?

Everything from that day forward continued to go down. You expect the 10 year old to be a helper in transporting supplies or be in the med bay, but no I was thrown straight to the front lines. The trenches. The conditions of trenches were horrible, but the treatment around here was worse.

I wasn't given proper clothes that were my size, everything I worn was made for grown men. I had to learn how to sew to keep my shirt together because I wasn't given new clothes. I been wearing the same shirt the militarily gave me for over 10 years now.

The bunks were hard as rocks, I could barely sleep. That's even if I could sleep at all within the anxiety that any moment a bomb could drop on us. Sometimes I didn't even get to sleep in bed. Someone I would pass out in the trenches or on the floor. I had to push myself to still be barely functional.

They needed me after all, all for my ability. It was either fighting in the trenches, or infiltrating the enemy team as a spy. With my ability I could look, sound, and act like someone else as long as I had a single strand of their DNA on a peice of clothing for me to wear, I could transform to be like them. Mirror Mirror, I called it. This was useful to the military, since I had to use it a lot. My ability was the only reason why I was still living while fellow soliders fall dead to the floor before my eyes.

They all started calling me DNA, Levi DNA, since that's what I was to them. I was called that name so many times that to this day I can't remember my own real last name now. That war has made me forget a lot of things.

Strike 2

I try to suppress the memories and nightmares so hard, but at the cost of forgetting anything good before the war. I was robed of the memories of my childhood because of it. Even if I did try to forget, the ones that were the worse always lingered in the back of my mind. All those moments of being in pain and suffering. Everything was starting to become dull around 18.

This was had been going on for so long that I was loosing my reason to keep fighting. As if I ever had a reason to in the first place. I was just doing what I was told. Go spy on these guys, aim for the head, use your ability, back to the battlefield you go. All words that have no importance to me anymore.

I remember one time I was in the medical bay, I had gotten badly injured, but even in that moment I couldn't rest for long. Dr. Ikari, a young man who never got to finish school, had to patch me up. Unfortunately he had to send me right back out to the battlefield a minute after he was done attending me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were feeling the same thing. This dullness that we both felt. I barely talked to him, but I could tell that both of our worlds were become gray.

When I was around 19 I thought there was nothing left to look forward to. The war was slowing down but I was already numb. Or so I thought until one day I saw a familiar face. Jumps off the bus was a familiar red head, it was Cooper! For the first moment in a long time I smiled as I saw him. He spotted me and we waved to each other. He still recognized me! I never felt more happy in that moment.

At last we can be like brothers again. Things became less dull, there was some color back into my life. Things were finally looking up. We would sit in the dining hall, eating the worst food, but that didn't matter to me. I got to talk to. My best friend.

Cooper would catch me up on everything that I have missed and I would vent to him about how this war was. His optimism brought up my spirits, which brought me to ease. He barely has changed since I last saw him, my same old buddy. We promised that once this war was over that we would support each other while we fulfilled our dreams. A track star and a baseball player.

Strike 3

That promise didn't stay.

I was robed again.

I could never forget that moment.

We were out in the battlefield, trying to traverse no man's land, our side finally had the upper hand in closing end on the enemy. But we lost many men that day, including Cooper.

He didn't react faster in time. Before I knew it, I was cradling his dying body in my arms, blood dripping from his forehead. Cooper was shot in the head. I couldn't stop crying. I wasn't even fighting anymore. All I did was lay on the battlefield, holding him closer to me. "Please don't leave me. Please don't leave me." I would mumble to myself through tears.

But he left. I believe now that he's resting well with God in heaven.

In that moment I could forgive myself. I couldn't forgive the enemy team. I couldn't forgive our own government for all of this. Things were becoming dull again, but there was this redness starting to boil in the inside of me. This ticking time bomb.

Then it happened.

I had enough.

The day I finally snapped.

I'm out

I regret everything I have done in that span of a week. I was the reason why things got worse. It was little things at first. Ignoring Ross commands, running straight into dangerous territory and slaughtering the enemies, or throwing a grenade at helicopters. Then it got worse, I destroyed many of our own military weapons and transport, with some of our own men still in them. I set some of the base on fire. Gave valuable information to the enemy team. Held hostages of innocent people. Many things.

All these things became documented, published for all the public to see. Soon Levi DNA became a name to hate. I was a danger to everyone around me. That I need to be killed or locked up away forever.

There were two final straws that let to my arrest. The president at the time came over to the base, there for a impossible meeting. He was the reason why I was suffering like this. With all the rage built up in me, I tried to assassinate the president. It took 6 guys to stop me from doing so.

But I wasn't done that day. The worst thing that I have done was use me ability for a murder. I transformed to look like Captain Ross, committing a murder on the previous vice captain at that time, making it look like he was the one who did it. I baseball almost ruined his name and reputation.

He hated me that day since.

There I was, now arrested and locked away in a high prison facility. Ross took the pleasure to torture me in breaking my spirit, in which he did. There was nothing to look forward to anymore. Everything had became gray once again. I felt nothing as I sat in my dark cell, chained to the wall. I didn't deserve good treatment. I didn't deserve kindness or anything good. After all a criminal, a monster, doesn't deserve anything at all.

There was no reason for me to live anymore, and I was ready to accept that.

For a long time in that cell I would be in my own little headspace, daydreaming that I was living a better life with my family and friends. It was my only "joy" left. But even that couldn't be enough.

I was ready to end it all, yet a tiny part of me told me not yet. One more chance. I try to ignore that tiny bit of hope left, but I caved in. I made a promise to myself, that if I could not find a reason to continue on living in a month, then I would end it all.

So I acted. With brute force I broke out of that prison. I snuck onto a boat headed towards Japan. I free myself and upon leaving Nimone to Japan, I did find one major thing to keep me living. The sun and rakn. The sun was so warm and bright, great against my skin and the rain was so calming and cooling.

This was my chance to start again.

Back in the game

Upon arriving to Japan, I ended up in Yoko's city. There I was already lost and confused. I didn't know where to go or where to stay. I didn't know Japanese so asking for help was a impossible.

For my first few weeks there I was a hobo, wandering around, taking food out of trash cans. I found a abandon car to sleep in for the nights, but I barely got sleep. Things weren't looking good again. I desperately needed a job.

But who would hire a criminal?

That's until I stumbled upon this building and this man with probably over 20 children. His name was Mr Fukuzawa. And upon meeting him, my life was never the same again. Things changed, for the good this time. And I was welcomed into a new life with such amazing and kind people. My world had color again.

I'm forever thankful for that day.

Thank you.

#bsd oc #bungou stray dogs oc #bsd #bungou stray dogs #levi dna #Cooper Levi's best friend #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs rp

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billthedrake · 10 months

Text

NIGHT SHIFT

It was twilight more than actual dawn, but as I heard the sound of the metal clink in Dad's uniform belt, I roused in my bed and saw his beefy build standing by my dresser. Carefully, he removed his service weapon and placed it next to my baseball card collection and my trophies, then did the same with his utility belt.

My eyes took a second to adjust, but I could start to make out his handsome features. Roman nose, round cheeks, thinning hair kept military buzzed.

"Heya kiddo," he whispered when he finally saw me watching, sitting up in bed. Already he was unbuttoning and untucking his uniform shirt, the kevlar vest making his barrel chest even more pronounced beneath.

"Hey Dad," I said. I tried to be quiet, too, but my voice was groggy and my greeting came out louder than I intended.

Not that I probably needed to worry. It's crazy and would be impossible to explain to any outsider. But this was an open secret in our family. Mom knew, my little brothers knew and even if no one talked about it, there was a strange acceptance. Maybe because my parents fought less now. Maybe because I was the star baseball player who was pretty much tapped to get a top pick in the upcoming draft, straight out of high school. I was definitely the Golden Boy. I wouldn't say I was spoiled, because I worked my ass off for my success, but I got a lot of special treatment.

It was a ritual I was getting used to, the way Dad neatly hung up his uniform, putting it in my closet, next to my Sunday best blue blazer and pressed khakis. He wore Jockey style briefs that clung to his meaty ass and heavy genitals. My morning wood was reliable but even if it wasn't I'd have gotten rock hard just watching him.

Finally Dad turned toward the bed with a relaxed smile, taking two steps to approach, then hooked his thumbs in the elastic and slid off his underwear. My father wasn't erect yet, but his dong was getting firmer as he lifted up the bed sheet and crawled in next to me.

"Sorry to wake you, Nolan," he said as he scooted up against me, his strong hands latching on to my sides. "But you do feel nice, buddy...."

"You too, Dad," I said. My dick pressed into the softness of his belly. My father wasn't overweight but he had some love handles on his otherwise hard, regulation-fit body. I loved every bit of him and the way he felt next to me. My hands were matching his move, running along the hard lats and over his meaty ass cheeks.

"This is what I look forward to after a hard shift," he said.

"Tough night?" I asked.

"Yah," he said. Dad didn't talk about the stress of his job in detail, but I liked that he could confide in me. When I was a kid he'd always hide that part of his life from me.

Our lips met. Softly at first but I nudged his mouth with my tongue, and Dad opened up to accept it. He moaned into my mouth as he pawed me more greedily, his hands' urgency a contrast to our restrained kiss.

My own hands were feeling him up excitedly, eventually one moving down to cup his crotch. My dad was rock hard now.

"HMMM," he hissed as we broke the kiss. "You got me hard, buddy."

"I can tell," I said. The daylight was a little brighter in the room now, and I could make out my father's masculine, soulful face up closer. His body felt warm and the scent of him filled my nostrils. My fingers caressed his rigid prick, which jerked in my hand some. "What are you in the mood for, sir?"

With me and Dad it was 50/50. Not only the sex acts we did but who guided how we would mate. After a big game or when we got some extended dad-son time, I generally got to pick. But when Dad was coming off of a night shift, I liked to indulge him.

"Hard to choose," he said. His hand was now moving to feel up my son bone.

"I know what you mean," I said.

He gave a slight, serious smile. It was weird that I was waking up but Dad was tired but fully awake, having been up for a good sixteen or seventeen hours. "I guess I'm trying to say, I want both... you know, flip."

We actually hadn't done that. If I hadn't watched my share of porn, I might not even know what that term meant. But the second he said it, the idea sounded perfect.

Dad must have read the approval on my face because already he was reaching over me, toward the lube I had out on the night stand. This was another thing I no longer bothered to hide. Over the course of the last nine months, we'd gone from only fooling around outside of the house to only doing it when we knew we were alone to.... this. I heard the squirt of the liquid in Dad's palm as I felt up his soft furry torso. Then Dad pumped out more for good measure.

I grinned at him as he now reached between my legs. I had a good jock's body, strong and athletic but over the last few months I'd really gotten more into lifting and my body had responded well. Dad told me he was in love with all of me, not just my muscles, but I still enjoyed the confidence my new build had given me. And Dad's eyes seemed more appreciative.

The fingers felt silky and warm as he fingered me open.

I could hear footsteps in the hall. People were starting to wake up. Dad paused a second and arched his eyebrow. The first time this had happened we were terrified of being discovered. Now my father pulled his big mitt back, wiping some of the excess lube onto my hard prick before slicking up his own.

"Lift your legs, Nolan," he instructed. No longer whispering but talking at full voice.

I was so excited to do so, pulling my legs back in the air, only to have my state trooper father guide them to a resting place on his shoulder. I pulled the extra pillow and Dad did the rest to help me lift my hips to place it beneath me. The angle was perfect, and I clenched my core once I felt Dad's wet meaty prick nudge my folds.

We used to have to go real slow through this part. Dad took my cherry right after my 18th birthday, and for months entry felt cherry-tight. But the last month, we'd both hit a groove. I was still tight, as was my father, but he was able to work himself inside me without too much difficulty.

He was doing it now, his eyes on me, excited to be inside his son once more.

"I love your cock, Dad," I hissed.

He nodded. I didn't know if that was a nod to say he knew how much I loved his dick or a nod to indicate he loved my ass equally. Probably both. "You know, kiddo... you're gonna have to tell me if this is ever too much."

I shook my head no. "You always know how to fuck me, Dad. Always have."

He grunted. "I don't mean physically, Nolan. I mean the other stuff. Everything else."

The words made my cock thrwap on my belly. If Dad hadn't suggested the flip fuck, I would have been stroking my tool already. "Not to take away from the sex, sir... but the other stuff is the best part."

That got a big smile from him. He thrust in, completely, all the way. "That it is, buddy." Then another thrust. The emotional talk had keyed me up to take this, to want this.

"Fuck me, sir. Fuck your boy."

Dad's nostrils flared as he threw more strength into his fuck, still slow but very firm. "Oh kiddo..."

The only thing that spoiled an otherwise perfect moment was the nagging realization I'd be moving within two months. Out of my childhood home, away from Mom and my little brothers. Away from Dad. "You get so worked up after a long night," I observed, now running my hands along his furry chest. It was true, but my words were meant to egg him on, too.

"Cause I think about you all fucking shift, Nolan... you and your hot fucking ass."

His hips were faster now, his whole body moving in a steady athletic pump. It was exquisite. I didn't even mind having my legs pushed back as he leaned in some. "You and your amazing baseball jock body," he added.

"I'm gonna get bigger," I hissed.

Dad's body jerked to a stop, and I thought for a second he was cumming. But he bit lip and slowly slid out of me, pulling my ankles off his meaty delts and letting my legs down. His prick was super slick, from his frothy precum as much as from the lube, and I watched how it was immobile like a tire iron as he scooted up and straddled my waist.

Already he was half twisting, half leaning back to grip my slick cock and guide it into place.

"There," he hissed as he made contact. A second later he was already sitting down on me.

"Oh fuck, Dad," I grunted. "You feel so incredible."

Dad had a determined look as he made himself relax so he could work more of my dick into him. After about thirty seconds, though he'd worked his way down most of me. He paused, then started riding his hips up and down. "Your daddy's so horny, Nolan," he grunted. The bed was squeaking and our voices were louder. There's no way somebody wasn't hearing us fuck.

"Me too, sir," I growled, my hands gripping his hard, hairy thighs. Imagining fucking him in his uniform one shift. We'd done that once, and the memory still got me going.

"You're always horny, stud. Daddy's sex-addict boy."

"You know it," I said, now thrusting up into him as much as he was riding me. It all felt too good. "I don't know if I can last long... if you wanna flip some more."

"Let it go, son. Let that cum go right up my fucking ass."

It did. The orgasm was pretty intense so I had a good feeling Dad's guts were getting pretty sauced.

"Hell yeah," he hissed, riding me and milking me with his state trooper ass. He wasn't making a move to jerk off but instead leaned all the way back onto my crotch to ensure my dick and my load were buried as deep as possible inside him. He held there just a second then slowly rose off.

He leaned in to kiss me hungrily, then just as impetuously pulled back, nudging my legs up. "Pretty please, Nolan," he asked.

I wanted to give him this. The release, and the pleasure to match what he'd just given me. He knew it was going to be intense for me, so he didn't hold back. Sliding back inside my ass, he pumped me gently a couple of times, then just started moving faster to get off. I had a pretty good idea of the button to push.

"This is incest, Dad," I hissed. I didn't drop the word much, in part because it was so powerful.

"Shit," Dad hissed with an urgency that let me know it was working. He was almost cumming.

"Real incest," I repeated. "Deep incest."

Dad was whimpering now, in full orgasm, his face scrunching up and his body jerking as he pumped a bunch of his fatherly sperm into me.

He was a little sweaty and a lot tired when he dismounted. "That was incredible, Nolan," he said, reaching down to ruffle my hair and give me a more relaxed kiss. "Thanks."

I grinned. "Keeps getting better, huh?"

Dad looked back at me with a dreamy expression, his body now lying beside mine, his hands on my waist. "Somehow... yeah, it does."

I felt him up too. "I should probably get ready for school," I said, regret in my voice.

"Definitely," Dad said. "Another kiss."

We didn't rush this one, but I finally got the will power to pull back. "All right," I said.

"I'll text you later," he said. His voice definitely sleepy now. I watched him pull the covers up over his burly, hairy body and turn away from the light of the bedroom window.

I slid out of bed and reached over to pull the blinds down. I slid on some sweats and padded out of the room, shutting the door softly behind me.

#drakestories

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christinesficrecs · 10 months

Text

Author Spotlight is a Saturday thing now **checks to make sure it really is Saturday** 😋 Enjoy these gems. They are all amazing!!

pretty in tents by kellifer_fic | 7.6K

Even though he’s making fun of it, Stiles thinks the whole thing sounds awesome and, like most stuff these days, the experience is going to be totally wasted on Scott.

By Moon And Stars by kellifer_fic | 15.9K | Mature

“Have you heard of this Alpha?” Stiles asks, shuffling up his pallet so Scott has room to sit. Scott does with a grateful little twist of his mouth. Stefan forces him into the Stilinski ceremonial armor when they travel and Stiles can see that it’s heavy and doesn’t sit well on Scott. He can’t shift encased in metal and Stefan knows it.

“I know of him, mostly stories that seem a little fantastical. Shifters exaggerate just like common people. They like their war stories.”

“Tell me of him. Tell me a war story.”

Relationship Status: It’s complicated by kellifer_fic | 4K | Mature

Okay, I know this is a huge stretch for you, but can you please pretend you’re like, into me?

the ring of the ancestors is not a euphemism by kellifer_fic | 10.6K

Stiles hadn’t noticed the way the entire commissary had gone silent when the guy had approached his table, or the two military escorts that had been flanking him, looking at each other like maybe they should be intervening but weren’t sure how. All he saw was someone stealing the last dessert from him and Stiles didn’t think about it, he just reached across the table and snatched it back with a, “What the hell, dude?”

tumescent by kellifer_fic (9k)

“I would have to want to date Derek for your plan to work,” Stiles points out, secure in the knowledge that his logic is infallible and yes, he’s had a pointless and soul-destroying crush on Derek for as long as he can remember but nobody knows that.

powerful in-scent-ive by kellifer_fic | 14.5K

Stiles holds up a hand, because he really can’t listen to the bites-are-all-right speech that Derek has given Scott dozens of times. “Dude, don’t.”

insert camping pun here by kellifer_fic | 12.5K

“I’m going to be different,” Stiles clarified. “I’m going to go to parties and make friends and,” Stiles leaned closer into the computer and whispered conspiratorially, “Get laid.”

Dude, what’s a bulwark? by kellifer_fic | 12.1K

Beacon Hills is the kind of small town where everybody knows everybody, and what everybody knows is that surly diner owner Derek Hale and free spirited single dad Stiles Stilinski have been in love with each other for years. If only they knew it too.

has time re-written every line by kellifer_fic | 14.6K

No, dad. Listen to what I'm saying. Yesterday, I was eighteen. I'm not speaking metaphorically, or about the way I feel or whatever. I was eighteen, we lived in the house on Maple, the last conversation we had was about how fries didn't count as a vegetable and I, uh, wasn't married.

Vampires, man. Not to be trusted by kellifer_fic | 9.6K

Stiles appreciates Derek worrying about him being overwhelmed but he really could have used a few overenthusiastic werewolves and impatient humans for his homecoming. He’s felt disconnected because of his forced isolation and would have at least liked to have had Scott on his doorstep when he got there.

monster at the end of the book by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan) | 16.7K

It's not like he forgets about the scar. Just, sometimes it takes him off guard when he's half asleep or run down. It's there, a new companion that reminds him of the world he now lives in, how it's changed and what it's cost. Still, sometimes he'll blink at it owlishly in the mirror like he's doing now, at the way it runs alongside his collar bone and down. It even separates a mole into two neat halves.

i love you a latte [Fic & Podfic] by kellifer_fic, RsCreighton | 6.6K

"You... want me to come to your family reunion?"

"Yes."

"And you'll come to my best friend's wedding as...my... date?" Stiles thinks the whole proposition bears repeating.

"Yes," Derek says again, brows furrowing like he's starting to regret asking.

it's free (and always will be) by kellifer_fic, maichan808 (maichan) | 31.6K | Explicit

Stiles starts looking around, like there's someone who'll rescue him from this painfully awkward situation and Derek can't blame him. All he can think is this is some kind of elaborate prank Laura is playing on him after she'd found his pile of Fangboy back copies last month.

Or, the one where Derek has to marry a human to save Clawbook and it turns out to be Stiles. He's completely doomed.

#sterek #sterek fics #ficrecs #author spotlight #writer appreciation #sterek fandom #kellifer_fic #fanfic writers

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lovelynim · 3 months

Text

Intruder countermeasures

Honkai: Star Rail - Sampo & Svarog (feat. Clara)

A/N: First out of two commissions for no other than the @otomiyaa herself! Thank you so much for the trust and support, Ginny, it means a lot to me to write a commission for you!

Summary: Someone triggered the alarm system inside the Robot Settlement. Now, who could it be and how are they going to deal with them?

Word count: 1913 words

Just how hard could it possibly be?

Get into the Robot Settlement. Check.

Find the pieces and gears the client requested. Check.

Steal Borrow them for an indefinite amount of time. Check.

Get out. ….

Well, it seems like the good, old Sampo Koski found a nice challenge for himself this time, huh.

Against what he expected from a bunch of old machines running around, the security in the Robot Settlement - especially around that big, scary manor where the little girl in red lived - was… hard to crack, to say the least. It took him a couple hours studying the best route to get in - for which he was definitely going to charge extra.

Now, if Sampo could figure out how to get in, then what’s the problem? Well, get out. Who could imagine that tinhead would have alarms against invaders all around the house? All the sorts of robots were patrolling the place, from the silliest, smallest ones to the big, threatening ones.

Sampo, hiding behind a conveniently placed wall, peeked at the grounds in front of the manor and watched the robots walking left and right, left and right… Damn, Svarog was really prepared for anything, huh? No opening in sight, maybe it was time for Sampo to wander a little more. Maybe he would even bump into something valuable interesting enough.

Walking a little deeper into the site, Sampo carefully followed a nearby why to the zone behind the manor. Luck seemed to be on his side as no robot was spotted patrolling that part of the settlement so far.

“My my… what do we have here..?” Sampo muttered quietly, peeking again as he reached another safe spot. Svarog, the so-called and feared tinhead, and the little girl in red, Clara. Maybe this was some sort of playground for the girl, Sampo thought, still not sure what kind of thing she did with all those gears and screws scattered around, but who understands kids these days anyway?

The most logical thing to assume was that Svarog drove her here while the machinery did the patrol on the other side of the manor. Such a good guardian, huh?

Sampo leaned against the nearby wall, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead. If he could make it past those two, he would be out of the manor’s ground - but why did it have to be those two?

He sighed, feeling defeated by Svarog’s security system. A loud, long sigh that slowly dragged itself out of his throat. Also, a mistake.

As soon as the air left his mouth, Sampo could hear a faint metallic sound coming from where he last saw Svarog and Clara standing. However, when he turned his eyes back to said spot, they were nowhere to be seen.

Uh oh.

“Target located,” Svarog’s heavy, deep robotic voice announced seconds before his hand crashed into the wall. Sampo widened his eyes as the hit missed his face by barely a couple inches - he didn’t even want to think about what that would’ve felt like if it did land. Well, he didn’t have time either.

Thanks to Gepard’s endless chasings, Sampo managed to develop quite the agility when it came to avoiding blows - still, this was not the best scenario to put them into test. “W-woah, careful that, you could hurt someo-wOAH!”

Sampo gasped as Svarog almost hit him again. “Target ‘Threat Index’ undetermined. Stay back, Clara,” the robot commanded, his free hand in front of the girl.

“I-I’m not a threat!” Sampo wheezed, desperately waving his hands in front of his chest, hoping it would appease the angry robot dad. “I’m just your good ol’ pal, S-Sampo Koski!” He spoke in a hurry, his words barely understandable under the fear in his voice.

Svarog didn’t seem to be convinced, though. Before Sampo could even have another chance to speak, he swayed his hand at him again and, this time, managed to push him against the nearby wall. Svarog’s palm was large enough to pin Sampo’s body against the surface behind him, making the mercenary gasp - half in pain and half in shock at how fast Svarog could be despite how big he was.

“Commence annihilation.”

…What?

Sampo widened his eyes as he saw Svarog lift his other hand and spread his fingers. The cannon within his palm charged at an alarming rate and, no matter how much he kicked or squirmed, he could free himself.

Was this the end of the good ol’ Sampo Koski?!

As Sampo prepared himself for the worst and closed his eyes shut, all he could hear besides the machinery in Svarog’s body running was a panicked, yet firm command.

“Svarog, s-stop it!” Clara pleaded, tugging at Svarog’s leg. And so he did.

“Clara, stand back. I couldn’t confirm the intruder’s intentions. It can be dangerous,” Svarog explained calmly, turning his attention to the girl, but making sure to not ease his grip in the slightest.

As stubborn as her robot dad, Clara shook her head. Her cheeks were a little flushed, as if she was just about to cry. “N-no! I don’t want to see you hurting someone!”

Sampo nearly cried along with the girl as he heard those words. Yay, he was saved!

“The intruder could harm you, Clara. I can not let them go,” Svarog insisted, his head turning back to Sampo with that threatening, but faint red light coming from his ‘eye’. “They need to be ‘taught a lesson’, so they won’t come back.”

“C-can’t we teach him some other way?” Clara muttered, still clinging at Svarog’s leg with teary eyes. “Without hurting him?”

Svarog didn’t answer and, if his face could express emotions like humans, he would probably look half confused, half concerned. Sampo pawed at the large, metallic hand keeping him place, but Svarog didn’t lower his guard yet. “In what way should we deal with the intruder? What do you propose, Clara?”

“Hmm, m-maybe…” Clara hummed, looking at Sampo and then back at Svarog. Something that would leave the message, but wouldn’t hurt? “T-tickle him!” She beamed, remembering the times when the kids in Boulder Town would decide their the one to lead the Moles’ squad through a tickle fight. Surely adults could solve their problems like that, without needing violence, right?

Sampo, on the other hand, didn’t look at the suggestion as brightly as Clara did. Svarog wouldn’t consider something like that, right?

Wrong.

Carefully wrapping his fingers around his body, Svarog picked Sampo up and brought him down to the ground. With his massive strength, pinning both his arms above his head with a single hand wasn’t a big deal.

“E-eh? Wait a second, C-Clara, darling, can you tell your d-”

“Understood,” Svarog sadly coldly, his attention turning back to the man he had pinned underneath him. Sampo gulped.

Getting tickled certainly sounded better than getting blasted into pieces, but Sampo wasn’t sure if he should be thankful yet. Did Svarog even know how to tickle someone? Or would he have his bones crushed one by one by the giant robot dad?

The answers for those questions soon came into his mind. Clara watched attentively as Svarog moved his free hand and began to knead Sampo’s side and stomach. A crooked smile took place in Sampo’s face while he started to squirm and kick his legs. Yes, it tickled. And tickled a lot.

“B-be careful, mr. Svarog. Just tickle, don’t hurt him,” Clara instructed and Sampo nearly told her to shut up, but the last bits of sense he had told him to keep quiet.

“Understood,” was Svarog’s simple answer as his cold, metallic fingers continued to prod and wiggle against Sampo’s body, testing out his reactions and studying where it would work the best. “Target’s heartbeat frequency increased. Suspicion: embarrassment.”

“H-hehey! That’s- agh, c-cohohome on!” Sampo grunted, his cheeks quickly turning red as he fought the urge to laugh with all the bits of strength he had. His eyes widened as Svarog moved his hand down to his hips. “W-waitwaitwahaHAHA, NOHOHOHOH!!”

Clara nearly jumped from her spot as Sampo bursted in loud, uncontrolled laughter. Well, that was the sign that Svarog was, indeed, listening to her, right? “I-I think you got him, mr. Svarog!”

“Target’s reaction: positive,” Svarog announced, his analysis bringing new results into this system and allowing him to tell which method worked - or, better saying, tickled - the best.

There barely was any room for Sampo to complain about the coldness of Svarog’s hand or about how rough a touch or two were. As expected of a machine, his tickling was meticulous and every move felt like it was calculated. From the way he kneaded into his sides, to the repetitive pokes all around his stomach and, of course, to the squeezing and pinching over his exposed waist and hips.

It was not like Sampo could see it clearly, but Clara had a relaxed look on her face. Svarog managed to find a way to deal with the intruder without harming him. How amazing! Still, all Sampo could feel and see was an ominous figure that was surely going to tickle him into his very death.

Choking between a laugh and the other, Sampo planted his heels into the ground. With teary eyes and flushed cheeks, he shook his head left and right, thrashing as much as Svarog’s pinning allowed him to. “PLEHEHEHEASE!!” He wheezed, the air barely making it into his lungs before he laughed again. “I’M SOHOHORRY!! I SWEHEHEAR!!”

Svarog didn’t even consider those words, as if they were unknown to his system. He looked to the side, gazing at Clara. “Unable to determine if the target is lying or not. Heart rate too unstable to consider. Your assistance is required, Clara,” Svarog pointed out, almost casually, while his hand continued to wreak havoc.

“M-me?” She chirped, clenching her little hands in front of her chest. “You want me… to help you t-”

“No,” Svarog promptly interrupted, not giving her a chance to even consider it, “it can be dangerous, don’t approach the target,” his eye then turned back to Sampo, that now terrifying, but dim red light pointing straight into his laughing face. “Do you believe the target tells the truth?”

“I D-DO! AHAhaha, plehehease!! I’m truhuhully sohoHOHORRY!!” Sampo cackled, having to almost squeeze his words out of his throat to make sure they would be heard through all the laughter.

“A-ahm, I… I think he did learn his lesson,” Clara smiled, a sense of getting the job done filling her heart. “You can stop now, mr. Svarog. Thank you,” she said, nodding shyly.

Again, listening to Clara and Clara only, Svarog stepped back. Sampo’s body went limp on the cold floor, his head spinning as he still had to come down from his high. “T-tha- ahh… t-thank you… I t-though… haaah, I was d-done fohohor…”

“Warning: further attempts of trespassing will be punished accordingly. Leave at this moment, intruder,” Svarog ordered, coldly, taking his place in front of Clara and holding his hand out in front of her.

“I-I will! I swear!” Sampo cried, prostrating himself in front of Svarog and Clara, hoping to convince them he was going to ‘behave’ this time. When the two didn’t oppose his plea, Sampo understood it was the time to flee as fast as he could.

The components his client wanted? Screw those, he would try to look for a phony to deliver instead.

Stealing from the Robot Settlement? Never again!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail tickling #sampo koski #svarog #lee!sampo #ticklish!sampo #ler!svarog #tickle fic #commission #nim's coffee shop #to: otomiyatickles

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ghastlyfilters · 1 year

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𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 !!

pairing(s): implied randy meeks, billy loomis, mickey altieri + stu macher x gn!reader

warning: none, though some hcs that i have written might be a little modern than others!

RANDY

• Idc what y’all say, this man is OBSESSED with Funko Pops.

• Honestly, I feel that he’s well aware of the fact that he has an interest for collector’s items.

• Bro.. he would squeal if you took him to places like HMV or Hot Topic.

• When he was informed that the Video Store (his workplace) would begin to sell some Funkos of infamous movie characters since that was literally the whole theme of the place, he died off. HE. DIED. OFF.

• Billy and Stu have occasionally dropped by to rent some more horror movies, also teasing him about the pops and telling the whole store it was a.. kink? More Stu’s bad way of putting it, shall we say..

“Can you take their clothes off?” Stu asked curiously.

Randy began to get flustered as Stu proceeded to take the small statue out of the box, knowing he’d get another harsh telling off if his boss found out it was Randy’s “friends” ruining stock.

“They’re plastic dumbass,” Billy remarked. “It’s practically molded onto their figure.”

“Can you guys please sto-”

Stu snorted. “Well you can take the clothes off Barbie dolls and shit like that, can’t you? They even have parts.. uh- you know?”

“Wha- no, these aren’t like that-”

Randy was cut off once again as Billy spoke up and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the taller male. “You really stripped the clothes off of dolls just to investigate when you were a kid?”

Randy and Billy both shared the same look as Stu grinned wickedly.

…

And then it came. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.” Yep. Classic Stu.

• Wherever this mf goes, he always ends up eating a bag of potato chips. Nor you or his friends know where he pulls them from, but he does, he just does..

BILLY

• There is so much I could say about Billy Boy here..

(He’d most likely tell you to go fuck yourself if you called him that. Well, depending on who you are lmao)

• If you are the kind of person who loves that shitty trending pop music, you are probably better off hanging out with Stu for the day. Because Billy HATES it.

• He’s not particularly into heavy metal, i’d say more grunge. Stu bullies him for it but gets an ass whooping later so, eh.

• If he gets woken up in the middle of the night, he’s one cranky fucker about it. This man prioritises his sleep. He almost broke the cable to the house phone after Stu kept calling him one night, complaining on how he couldn’t sleep and that he wanted to go somewhere. After Billy not being able to get back into dreamland, he gave in. Pretty sure Stu ended up choosing the McDonald’s drive thru, much to Billy’s annoyance.

(That shit happens way too often but hey, who doesn’t like late night drives?)

• Billy wants a piercing but at the same time, he doesn’t? He’s not sure if he can really commit to it or not, but he does think people with piercings are cool!

• Plus his Dad would probably kick him out over something as stupid as that. Billy would just tell him to get bent either way lol.

• He can be quite a germaphobe. Sick people scare the living FUCK out of him.

• You have a cold? Aw, pity. DO. NOT. APPROACH. BILLY. LOOMIS.

• Stu accidentally sneezed on him once and Billy literally felt his heart stop. He showered about three times that day.. maybe more? Fuck knows, man.. 😭

MICKEY

• Something about him and the song Paparazzi.. IDK WHAT IT IS BUT IT JUST.. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

• He’s very open about his opinions, as we all know. If you dissed his fav movie or TV show, bam bam bitch he’s gonna answer you and he ain’t gonna be so fucking nice about it.. 🫡

• Literal Beyoncé stan. I swear whenever her music is playing and y’all are at a party, he def wants to have a lil boogie with you.

• Mickey is the one person you know to have a weird, WEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIRRRRRD obsession with black coffee..

HE LOVES IT A LITTLE TOO MUCH, YK?

• You, Mickey and Randy were all out at the mall once and some little girl ran up to him saying he looked like Edward Cullen?

Randy just had no idea how kids had the balls to say whatever the fuck they wanted, meanwhile Mickey didn’t know whether to take it as an insult or not..

“Vampires who sparkle like a fucking Hello Kitty sticker? Wow, new name for ya, Mick..” You giggled.

• Really spoiled, bratty girls with all their designer gear is a big no no for him, he just hates them.. 😭

• You catch him watching all the true crime documentaries. He even has books about America’s most popular serial killers. TONS, of books.

STU

• This man, THIS MAN RIGHT HERE FOLKS!!

• Stu is literally every personality combine. Like a lab experiment gone wild, honestly.

• He asks you the weirdest questions sometimes. They are so random and beyond unexpected lol.

“Wait, do you think clowns can also honk their di-”

• Stu has the most ridiculous obsession with boobs. Randy now calls him the titty monster anytime Jamie Lee Curtis shows up in the horror movies they’re watching.

• He was BORN a dog lover.

• Annoys Billy anytime he gets a new girlfriend.

• I can picture him eating anything blue raspberry flavoured he can find. CANDY GOO, BLUE SOUR PATCH KIDS, YOU NAME IT😭😭

• Has the best snack cupboard no one else can compare to having in their house.

• He’s the kind of guy to stick his tongue out to kids in public just so he can get a giggle out of them!

• Loves it when him and the gang go out to the cinema. Which is more often than you’d expect.

• Has like, the LONGEST list of cinema snacks when y’all are paying to get your food.

these men all have their differences, but all expect one thing. THEY BE FINE AS HELLLLLL (anyways, hope you enjoyed this little list of hcs i have for my favs. HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!!!! :D

#scream #scream headcanons #billy loomis #stu macher #randy meeks #mickey altieri #scream 1996 #hcs #character headcanons #scream fandom #billy loomis headcanons #stu macher headcanons #randy meeks headcanons #mickey altieri headcanons #requests are open <3 #timothy olyphant #matthew lillard #skeet ulrich #jamie kennedy

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sage-green-matcha · 1 year

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RETRIBUTION - ZACH TURNER 💣

Content Includes: Mentions of blood, violence, bombs, guns, more blood, spoilers for the movie “Retribution”

A/n: My first time writing for Zach! We don’t really know much about him butttt I tried my best! Hope you guys enjoy :)

Your face was covered in shock as you watched Zach's father hold out a gun. You were already scared, the fact that there was a bomb in the car made you feel sick to your stomach.

You really thought it would be a normal day, but you had seen 3 people die in one morning.

You watched as Zach and Emily's mom was taken by the police, teams of police officers chasing down the car that you were inside of.

You had no clue what was going on, and it stressed you out knowing you couldn't do anything about it.

"I'm sorry Y/n, I'm so sorry sweetheart. You shouldn't be here right now" Matt mumbled with a shaky voice.

You could tell just from that, that were tears forming in his eyes.

"Dad... Dad don't do this!" Zach's eyebrows were furrowed, his body shaking slightly from his scared heartbeat.

"Dad don't" Emily was breathing heavily next to Zach, his hand squeezing hers tightly.

"Dad don't! Listen, okay? He's your friend"

Your heart shattered with how frightened he sounded, but you couldn't speak. You were too scared. You usually loved the rush, but this felt disgusting and dangerous.

"God forgive me" The words that fell from Matts lips were unbelievable. There was no way he was about to kill his best friend. His long-time business partner.

You didn't know Matt very well. But you knew Matt and Anders well. They were always together at gatherings, drinking and joking around like they always did.

They would tease you and Zach about getting together, you knew it would never happen. But knowing they support your small delusion made you feel better.

"Matt! Let me go!" Anders looked terrified, the gun held up to his face didn't help it either.

"Dad! Dad! He's your friend! What are you doing?"

"Dad! Don't!" Emily was now clung onto Zach, tears forming in her eyes as she watched the horrific scene.

"I can't..."

You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to see a mutilated body once you opened your eyes.

Except that didn't happen, instead your eyes were surprised at the train that rushed in front of them. Your hearing was interrupted by the loud sound of screeching metal and a loud horn.

Heavy breathing filled the car, a harsh swallow falling down your throat.

You thought you were safe, for a split second. But everything happened so fast.

Wood and glass exploded throughout the car, bullets breaking through the metal doors of the car.

A powerful cloud of smoke made you cover yourself, but instead of protecting yourself, you put your body in more danger.

The car shook before you could even look at the explosion next to you, pain covering your entire body.

Your breath scattered, looking at the bloody hole in your arm. It had all happened so fast. You felt a dart of pain and next thing you knew you were covered in blood.

"Are you okay?" Matt turned around, looking at his children before he even glanced over at you.

"Y/n? Y/n?"

A ball formed in your throat, the pain making your mouth explode with small cries.

"Shit! Shit! Y/n, Y/n! She's bleeding. She got shot!"

Your body fell cold, trying to control your breathing as blood soaked into you and Zach's clothing.

Painful whimpers fell from your mouth, feeling Zach's hand lift your arm.

"Shit"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry babe, I know it hurts."

He wrapped his dad's tie around your wound, It hurt but his words made you feel better. Your heart started beating faster, and you weren't sure if it was because of him or the shot through your arm.

"Tie it tight, Zach"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" You ought to think he was the one who shot you with how much he was apologizing.

You yelped at the pressure being put on your limb. Blood soaked through the cloth quickly and you felt sick.

"Hang on Y/n, Hang on. We're gonna get you some help" You gulped at Matt's words, your head falling onto Zach's chest.

He held you tighter in real life than in your dreams. He didn't want to lose you, you were his person. He loved you, he needed you.

His hand was covered in your blood but he refused to let go. The warm liquid covered the seats and it stained his skin, but he didn’t care.

It felt like forever before the police started to chase the car, Anxiety no longer took over your head, it just felt empty and painful.

Your vision blurred, noises and words becoming quieter and mumbled.

The car finally came to a stop, Zach holding onto your hand tightly.

"Are you okay?" A lady came up to the car, looking through the broken windows.

"She's hurt, please. She's lost a lot of blood. We need help" They didn’t believe Matt, but once she saw the bloody seats she had no choice.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Her face was serious when you asked, making you question her sanity.

"Are you serious? I'm dying" She could read your face, yet you couldn't read hers.

All you wanted was for the pain to go away, to get out of the car and feel better.

But you couldn't. The bomb made it impossible to leave.

"There are no bombs under the children's seats. We're taking off the car doors now"

They unscrewed the ruined car doors, a man reaching over your seatbelt before unbuckling it.

"Zach..." He gulped with glossy eyes as he realized he was still holding onto your hand.

"Is he your boyfriend?" The anticlimactic lady asked and you just shrugged, Zach giving you a small smile.

You were taken to an ambulance, Zach and Emily following not long after.

"You lost a lot of blood, but you'll be fine"

As if that would make you feel any better. You laid lazily on the stretcher, Thankfully the bullet wasn't stuck in your arm, so no surgery was needed.

Instead, you zoned out on anesthesia, stitches being sewn into your arm.

For some odd reason, you weren't allowed to leave the crime scene. So Heather accompanied you in the back of the ambulance.

"They called your mom again, I'm sorry sweetheart. How do you feel? Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

Her motherly instincts brought you comfort, something yours didn't have. She wasn't even in town, which was why Matt had to take you to school.

But you weren't at school, yet you didn't think your mom would even care to ask you about the accident. 30 minutes had passed and she didn't even care to call, they had to call her again.

"He's taking off, Mrs. Turner" Your heart felt empty as she ran off to get her husband, Zach, and Emily running Into the ambulance.

"Y/n, are you okay? How do you feel? What did they do?" Zach's voice was fast, making you smile up at him.

"I'm fine Zach, they just gave me some stitches. Are you guys okay?" Emily tried to smile as she nodded, but Zach could only focus on you.

"Emily, leave"

"What? Why? Are you gonna kiss Y/n?"

You smiled as they fought, even after the most traumatic experience of their lives they still bickered.

"Please, Emily?" She huffed before standing outside the ambulance.

"Sorry about your shirt" You mumbled. It was dyed with the color of your blood, a dark red covering the grey fabric.

"It's fine..."

He looked nervous as he went to hold your hand, reaching out before pulling back.

"Hey, it's okay. We're alive" You took it upon yourself to take his hand, his warmth giving you comfort.

"I know...but my dad"

You frowned, letting out a small sigh before readjusting yourself to be sat up.

"Careful, be careful"

"I'm fine Zach, chill" You smiled while looking up at him, his eyes basically drilling holes into yours.

He didn't get how after all of that you still managed to look so beautiful. Your hair was messy and your skin was covered in blood, but you still looked pretty.

"I look ugly, I know" He furrowed his eyebrows before shaking his head, opening his mouth before hesitating.

“You look beautiful…even covered in blood” He scoffed as butterflies exploded in your stomach.

You didn’t want him to notice how your face lit up with every pet name and compliment, but he did.

“This is a really bad time for this but, I need to tell you”

“What is it? You can talk to me” You gave his hand a small squeeze, pulling it closer to your body.

“When I saw you bleed I really thought you were gonna die. And I wanted to tell you this in case you did…”

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words as he continued to speak. The words that fell from his lips leaving you in shock.

“I love you. I don’t know what It feels like but I think I feel it for you. And I wouldn’t want anything this horrible to ever happen to you again.”

You felt yourself melt at his sweet words. But as he rambled you smiled to yourself, pulling his arm closer towards you.

“I get it Zach, I love you too”

His smile brightened your face, a soft kiss being placed on your lips before Em’s squeal interrupted the moment.

“I knew you two liked each other!”

“Em! Shut up!”

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