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ju-vondy · 8 months ago

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Me what, kitten? (A short Jason X Candy headcanon scene) (OC)

Count of words: 1.996

Warning: Things get kind of hot. Not actual smut, but pretty intense feelings lmao

Also, This is an excerpt from one of the latest Chapters on my Fanfic "Dancing With The Devil" published on A03 under my username Ju_Assis and I'd be very happy if you want to read and leave a kudo in order to make this author happy :D

Good reading, sassy readers!

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Before Jason could finish his sentence, Candy interrupted him with her own dose of determination and challenge: “We agreed to forget it. So I did. You made me swear it would never happen again.” she countered, her voice firm but filled with a mix of anger and fear. “And you know what? I deeply regret giving in to your stupid charm back that day. I’ve always hated this ‘one-night-stand’ thing and-”

“Then why did you give in?” Jason raised his voice. Then, he laughed in realization “I wouldn’t be surprised if all this hatred and disdain you show for me is, actually, a mask to hide something more.”

Jason stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Candy's, his breathing heavy and irregular. His hands trembled slightly, betraying the intensity of his emotions. "Did you hear me, Candy?" he nearly growled, the anger and confusion mixing in his voice. "Maybe this hatred is just a disguise to hide what you really feel for me. Because you don’t have courage enough to confess your lust for me."

He stopped, surprised by his own words. Damn. Had he really said that? Damn. It was exactly how he felt, but he never intended to admit it out loud. He was always the someone wearing a mask to protect his feelings. But now the words had already been spoken, revealing a vulnerability he had always tried to hide.

Candy let out a frustrated grunt and said “I only agreed to fuck with you because it was a moment of weakness, okay? Drinking makes me prone to making stupid decisions. And apparently, horny as hell," Candy exhaled, irritated. Her voice sound more desperate than she intend to. “And besides, I thought I’d forget everything the next day. It was a mistake and… I’ve moved on. That’s it, Jason.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening at Candy’s resistance. However, amid the confrontation, he couldn’t help but notice a redness spreading across her face, a silent proof that her words were just a bluff.

“If you had really moved on, Candy, you wouldn’t be so nervous now,” Jason declared, his voice filled with a seductive challenge. “You want more, don’t you?”

The heavy silence hung between them, charged with the intensity of their exchange of words and emotions. It was as if they were trapped in a stalemate, each clinging to their convictions while the world around them seemed to collapse. But despite the tension surrounding them, there was something more, something that interconnected them in a way that neither of them could fully understand yet.

Candy met Jason’s intense gaze, her own feelings in turmoil as she fought against the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Jason watched intently as Candy’s chest rose and fell, breathless, a palpable tension emanating from her. His eyes narrowed slightly as he awaited her response, knowing the truth was coming closer and closer.

She lifted her chin with determination, her expression defiant. “Wanting more of you would be the last thing on my mind,” she retorted, her voice filled with sharp sarcasm. “Especially knowing the kind of person you are.”

“Admit it, Candy,” Jason whispered, moving slowly towards her, making her back away. “You. Want. More…”

She retreated and he advanced, each step filled with the promise of something more. She backed up until there was nowhere else to go: Candy’s back hit the wall. She swallowed hard, tense. Jason raised an eyebrow at her.

And then, in a moment of pure impulsiveness, she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer. “You…” But she couldn't say the words she had in mind. She couldn't say no to him and she blamed the alcohol. Of course it was the alcohol which made her lean in towards him, seeking for his mouth, wasn’t it?

Jason saw the mix of feelings that were going through Candy’s face and chuckled softly. He brought his thumb up to her chin, a gentle yet firm touch that sent shivers down her spine. “Me what, kitten?”

And there she was.

Suddenly, Candy couldn’t think straight anymore. The way he pronounced that word. Kitten. He knew how to make her so irritated and... Candy grunted, as if that would stop her from feeling the shivers that Jason provoked in her. She couldn’t even remember how to breathe. Not while being so near to him, his smell...

She pulled him even closer while a red alert sounded in her mind nonstop. As if the angels and devils were discussing in her braincells. She ignored it, ignored everything. Because, suddenly, the only thing that mattered was kissing him again...

Because his kiss was like a drug.

And Candy had been in withdrawal for too long.

She grabbed his shirt and their lips met in a searing, intense kiss, an explosion of desire that consumed them completely. Jason almost lost his balance, barely believing that Candy took the initiative this time. Amid the whirlwind of emotions and sensations, they surrendered to the heat of the moment, losing themselves in each other in a frenzy of ectasy and desire while their bodies were moving in a frantic dance of desire, growls, and touches. He gently pushed her against the small round table near the sofa, his hands exploring every inch of her skin as they called each other silly names.

“Stupid,” Candy murmured against his lips, her hands gripping Jason’s hair.

“Ridiculous,” he replied, his hands sliding down her back, pulling her closer.

They stumbled, moving toward the pool. Jason lifted her and placed her on the soft surface, their kisses becoming more urgent and desperate. “I can’t stand you,” Candy whispered, her voice filled with desire and frustration. “You're unbearable”

“The feeling is mutual, then,” Jason replied, his hands quickly unbuttoning her cropped. She didn’t complain.

Jason’s hands slid into Candy’s right breast, drawing a moan of pleasure from her. He then kissed the skin of her chest, his voice a low growl. “When will you admit that you can’t stay away from me anymore, Candy?”

Candy’s breath hitched as his lips traveled along her skin. “Me? It seems it’s you who are always stalking me like a damn psychopath.” She started to unbutton his shirt.

Jason smirked, his lips brushing against her ear. “What did you expect? You’re like a drug. Your smell, your body, your fucking witty arguments and even your damn presence... Everything. You know?” He gently nibbled her earlobe and let his hand slide down her back, tracing a line with his fingers, making her moan softly. “Oh, I like and I hate it at the same time…”

“I can’t believe this is happening again.” Candy was breathless. “Me and you.”

“It is different now.” Jason replied, raising her skirt.

“Really?” she asked, her voice tinged with doubt, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to read him. Different how?

“Yes, because we’ll both remember.” The dark-haired answered and his eyes softened as he saw a flicker of hesitation in Candy's eyes. He gave her a small, understanding smile. Then he leaned toward her, lowering his voice to a near whisper: “Ah, you can’t decide if you want to spend another night with me again, right?”

Silence fell between then. Jason started to stroke her knee, tracing a gentle circle along the slit of her skirt. “What do you want to, kitten?”

“I want to…” she murmured, not sure of what to say. “To make you… I mean, you make me…’’ she swallowed hard, unable to finish “But…”

“It’s okay, you can go away if you want. I’m will not force you to do this if you have doubts.” Jason reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear: “But know this,” his voice dropped, becoming more intense, “I’m not waiting forever.”

Suddenly he stepped back, and Candy’s heart skipped a beat when she felt his comforting warmth vanish away from her skin. Is he for real? She thought. He just teased me like that and now decided to let me go?! Is this part of a bigger plan or…? Candy cleared her throat, trying not to think about it too much.

She began to climb down from the table, determined to leave. But then, halfway through, she stopped and turned back to him, who was watching her with his arms crossed. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She knew that walking away would only postpone their tension. But the look in Jason’s eyes, the challenge, the desire... it was all too much to ignore.

“Jason,” she called out, her voice trembling slightly. “This is… Madness. You make feel like if we were two stupid teenagers driven by hormones” Candy grunted, taking a step closer “Every time we meet we argue like two rebel kids.” She stopped. “And we’re not at school anymore. We are two fucking adults, damn it!”

“Sometimes even two fucking adults can be madly dragged to each other so they won’t think straight when they’re together... You know?” Jason smirked, stepping closer as well “The pull of pleasure is undeniable such as it is inevitable. I have to confess I haven’t felt this for a long time.”

“Yes, but…” Candy sighed. “This is ridiculous.”

“But you can’t avoid it, can you?” he replied, his tone a mixture of challenge and longing.

“No, I can’t” she admitted, almost in a whisper, before practically running into his arms, seeking the comfort and familiarity of his embrace. They started kissing again, something more tender this time.

Jason held her tightly, his hands roaming her back, soothing yet igniting her senses. “See? We can’t stay away for too long. We’re both addicted to each other company.” He paused, his fingers teasing her sensitive spots on her waist. “And that began even before that night where I lost control, don’t you try to deny it...”

Candy’s body responded to his touch, her mind swirling with a mix of anger and desire. She felt herself giving in to the overwhelming sensations, her hands clutching at his shoulders as their bodies pressed closer together.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and desire. “I won’t deny it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve tried to fight it, to ignore it, but it is… Impossible. You are impossible.”

Jason’s eyes softened, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against her ear. “And you are everything I can’t resist,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “From the moment I met you, I knew there was something I couldn’t ignore. And now, here we are. Again. Here I am, losing control. Again.”

“I think....” Candy arched “Were both losing control...”

Jason’s hand moved lower, and Candy arched into him, her breathing ragged. She wanted to fight it, to resist the pull he had on her, but it was useless. The connection between them was undeniable, an electric burning that neither could ignore.

“Have you made your mind? Do you want t-”

“Fuck, yes” and in a moment of impulsiveness, Candy sank to her knees, beginning to unbutton his pants, her eyes glinting with desire as she quickly freed his cock from the fabric of his clothes. Jason watched it astonished and couldn’t help to let go a satisfied laugh as he appreciated her longing gaze towards him. She was just about to take him into her mouth when he grabbed her hair, tilting her head back.

“I’m sorry to say that, Candy,” Jason said, his voice husky with desire, his eyes dark with intent. “but your mouth is the last thing I want right now.”

Candy adjusted her posture, feeling goosebumps rise on her arms as his words sent a shiver down her spine. “What do you want, then?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, filled with anticipation.

“You know what I want,” he replied, his voice a low growl, filled with raw hunger. “Now get up and give it to me.”

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Ohhh, before I forget, here's the link if you want to understand their story better:

Good reading ❤️ Chapters 1, 2 and 3 are pretty intense and into smut once it begins on the event mentioned in the synopsis/summary LMAO I hope you don't mind

( ͡⊙ ͜ʖ ͡⊙)

Also, I'm brazilian and English is not my first language... So you might see some mistakes here and there but i'm really trying my best when I make the transcription/translation okay ❤️

#jason mendal #mcl new gen #amour sucre #mcl #mcl jason #amour sucre new gen #my candy love new gen #mclng

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floofanflurr · 8 months ago

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Last Line Challege

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

Tagged by @finderseeker

Oooooh, this is cool! Thanks for the tag!

I just finished up writing chapter 23 of Heart on the Table last night! So for anyone that reads that, have fun reading the last line of the chapter before it's even posted!

"Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay for once. Frisk just had to be good, and then maybe they could keep this happiness."

I'm sure everything will be fiiiiineeeeee! (Ignore the fact that there is still 15 more chapters to go. I'm sure it means nothing! Nothing bad will ever happen! :D)

No pressure tags! For those who want to participate! (no worries if you don't!) Also I'm not tagging 24 people.... Also also, I invite anyone who wants to participate to do so! Even if I didn't tag.

@lizavet @humankk @sneakyfox55 @lizzie-tempest @just-a-soft-kid @timeofjuly @covfefeships (I JUST REALIZED I WASN'T FOLLOWING YOU, HELP????? SORRY TT.TT) @sunsestart @smol-dargon

HELP I JUST REALIZED THAT THERE ARE MULTIPLE AUTHORS WHO'S STUFF I LIKE THAT I WASN'T FOLLOWING. IF YOU JUST GOT A FOLLOW THAT'S WHY...

#floof talks #floof writes #maybe?#tag game

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morimakesfanart · 10 months ago

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Heyya!. I just want u to know that i've just read your latest fic on ao3 NONSTOP for about 4-5 hours last night and i definitely confident to say that your fic is asuperb work of art...

It's rare to see that kind of fic like you've been working for the last few years... A story with additional comic is really such a breath of fresh air to me these days...

Please, don't stop continuing this super duper amazing fic of yours even. I'm trying not to ask nor demand you to update the fic rightaway, but at least i don't want my hopes got away after just found out about this fic of yours in less than 24 hours...

I'm glad you like it so much!! :D

I have no intentions of stopping. I'm making it for me most of all, and it's been super entwined with my growth as a person and writer/artist.

I always write 2-3 chapters at one time, so if one is posted it's because I have the start of the next set drafted. I just posted ch38, and my drafts go up ch41. There's only one more left in the current arc being posted. I need to do some final edits and the art which hopefully won't take more than 2 weeks. However, I won't start the art until I get ch41 more finalized and get ch42 started. Working multiple chapters at once helps balance the flow in and between arcs.

If I ever hit a point where I think I can't work on Sindria's Prophet ever again, I'll post all of the remaining drafts for whatever arc that ends up being without art. I don't see that happening though since this is not only the only story I'm posting right now, it is extremely meaningful for me, and I can't deny that it's where most of my paying members on Patreon are coming from. The help with the groceries has been extremely important. That pressure does more to make sure I don't lose track of time so I actually finish and post, and not a feeling of obligation tho. I am extremely grateful for the support I've gotten thank to this fic :3

On why writing & art:

I can't tell any story without also drawing it. I'm a visual thinker so I always feel like something vital is lost if I have to describe it in words alone. When I was little I wanted to make animations, but I realized when I was 12 that it would take too long, so I started making comics. I posted my first comics online on dA. They are still up if you find the account.

As it turns out, making comics takes much longer than just writing, and I am but one person. And I also eventually figured out that since I often use writing to process my own experiences there are topics that I want to write about that upset or even trigger me if I draw them to the point I will basically drop a story if I have to draw a long scene of them. That what's happening with my og series PBSN on tapas&webtoons if any one's been wondering why it only updates like 1ce a year now. So with this fic I have figured out how to do a combination of writing and comics. Now I can tell a story in a more timely fashion without losing as much of what's going on in my head as possible AND it has the added bonus of not having to draw the topics/emotions that stop me so I can actually keep working on it :D

But yeah, I am going to keep going with Sindria's Prophet until I reach the end :3

#mori answered #art journal #writing journey

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owlsandwich · 1 year ago

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The Mechanics of Magic

Read along with me :D - Chapter 1

I finished my first book almost two years ago, (a multiple POV fantasy - my baby and passion project) but I was never comfortable with the fact that I'd never had an editor. Now, that has finally changed!

I recieved the full edited manuscript back just before Christmas, and have finally got around to working through the edits. My plan is to post each chapter here as I finish editing it - I'd love if anyone wants to join me on the journey and read along :)

(Note - the book is technically still available to buy, but it is the old version which I haven't yet got around to taking down or setting to free - Amazon can apparently be weird with marking things as free so I don't think it's as simple as just logging in and doing it. Feels weird to say, but please do ignore that it exists!)

Next Chapter

Chapter 1 is below the cut!

Chapter 1

A shiver ran down Roy’s spine despite the warm night. His eyes landed on the gun holstered at the guard’s side, and he instinctively reached for his magic to cast a shield. Maybe security wasn’t as lax here as he’d thought.

Even knowing he could block the weapon, seeing one in person made Roy nervous. There was a reason why people rarely bothered with guns in Ardveld, but he still wasn’t keen to test the strength of his abilities. At least he was out of sight. For now.

He shifted atop the wall, long legs numb from perching amongst the sweet-smelling leaves of the overhanging tree. It had been a simple enough climb. Original stonework formed this part of the perimeter and the loose mortar had fallen away at his touch, adding to the deep indents created by time and weather to make easy footholds for his soft shoes.

From here, he had a full view of the house and grounds. There were no cameras yet; his scouting two days before had confirmed that, but still, the old place was definitely wired up. Electric light streamed from the windows on the second floor, but as Roy watched, the lights shut off. Now he could only see the glow of a lamp by the staff entrance, where the guard stood. Moonlight illuminated the rest, revealing the disfiguring silhouette of scaffolding rising at the property’s rear.

Roy wrinkled his nose. He wondered how the original inhabitants would feel about the building’s latest occupant — though really, they didn’t deserve the consideration. Whatever great magic family had lived here before, they held as much responsibility for the takeover as its current owner. Arrogant bastards.

A rumble to his left heralded the approaching car before he saw it. Bright headlights lit up the tall gate that enclosed the estate’s front courtyard, and Roy watched as a man leant out of the driver’s window to tap a password into a keypad embedded in the red-brick gatepost. With a hum, the gates swung open, and the car continued through. New enough; the plates marked the white vehicle as barely a year old, but it was still not something Felix Marek would be seen dead in. This was no doubt a staff member instead.

The shift change would be his best opportunity. Drawing a little more magic, Roy focussed on forming the illusion that would darken his clothes and red hair. Nothing special, but it had been over a decade since he’d last had to cast one, and it definitely showed. Manipulating light well enough to replicate reality was beyond his skill, but the smudged effect his spell gave would at least provide him with some camouflage.

Gravel crunched as the man from the car crossed in front of his hiding place. Roy slipped down from the wall and followed, keeping sufficient distance to hide both his footsteps and the magic radiating from him. A strong enough mage might sense him anyway, if they were paying attention, but that kind of power would make them easily detectable by other magic users themselves. With any luck it meant the man was weak, if he was even a mage at all, and the waste energy from Roy’s crude illusion would go unnoticed.

The guard at the staff entrance raised a hand in greeting as the new arrival approached. Now that he was close enough, Roy recognised the symbol on both men’s black uniforms — the sunburst logo of Sunstone Enterprises.

That explained why he hadn’t sensed their presence. Sunstone belonged to Aiden Heliodor completely now that Felix Marek had sold his share and retired to Ardveld, but apparently Marek had brought Sunstone security with him anyway. Few mages were born in Vailberg, and any magic users that Sunstone employed wouldn’t be relegated to guarding an empty house.

The two guards exchanged greetings, their conversation carrying easily across the calm air of the courtyard. From his position in the shadows, Roy analysed the staff door behind them. It had an electric locking system, which blinked with a green light as the first guard swiped a card and pulled it open.

Magic ready, Roy launched his shield spell towards the entrance. Shaped by his will, it wrapped itself invisibly along the narrow edge where the door would lock. As expected, neither of the guards seemed to notice and Roy retreated against the wall of the house, focussing his mind on maintaining both the shield and his illusion.

After some time, two sets of footsteps passed his hiding place; one guard was presumably leaving to patrol the grounds, and the other heading home to their bed. If either had looked, they would have seen that the lock’s light remained green behind them.

The door swung open at the push of Roy’s gloved hand, clicking shut behind him as he released the shielding spell.

The chemical smell of fresh paint dominated the little kitchen in which he found himself. Though the walls were a glossy white, the scuffed bare stone of the floor told him that refurbishments to this room were incomplete. A closed door at the back of the room led to the main body of the house. This one was unlocked, and after a pause to listen for footsteps, Roy passed through.

It was warmer inside and would have been cosy, had it not been the height of summer. Instead, the plush carpet had trapped the day’s heat, making the air close and heavy. Roy dismissed his illusion, the disguise no longer worth the focus it took to maintain, and drew a deep breath.

The stale air didn’t help with the sense of confinement, and he unzipped his brown jacket, flapping it open in an attempt to dry the sweat forming on his skin. He was in what looked like a ground floor foyer, composed of a small seating area below a spiral staircase that led to the top floor.

Here at least, the house retained some of the elegant, Ardveldian style that would have once defined the property. Dark green walls were embossed with an angular design, extending up to a high ceiling swirled with intricately carved patterns.

Not that Felix Marek wasn’t trying to impose his mark here, too. It was now clear to Roy that the scaffolding he’d seen outside was just one part of an extensive remodelling. Dust sheets covered the floor where a large fireplace had been installed, comprising an elaborate mantelpiece over a deep hearth. There would have been no need for fire in the original construction, not when the staff could use their magic to charge the passive spells for heat and cooling.

What had happened to them, Roy wondered, when the family that owned this place fled?

The familiar heat of rage burned through him, untempered by how simple this break-in was proving to be. He’d come for answers, but all was quiet, the security lax. Marek might have something to hide, but if this was his set-up, then any evidence was most likely back in Vailberg.

In any case, Roy was here now.

Tall windows lit the staircase with the eerie glow of moonlight, and Roy headed up to the second floor. As he turned the corner, the disapproving eyes of a portrait peered down at him from the wall. Whoever painted it must have been in a forgiving mood; Felix Marek’s wispy hair looked near dignified in this depiction, and you could almost believe he still had the muscular physique of his youth. Roy gave the painting the finger as he passed. Unfortunately for Marek’s ego, television cameras told a different story.

Roy wasn’t sure where he was going but had let instinct carry him upstairs, knowing the building work on the ground floor likely meant that nothing of interest would be stored there. The corridor here smelled of fresh paint, like the guards’ room below, but he was relieved to see that this floor also had carpet to muffle his footsteps.

Still watching for movement, Roy reached out with his magic sense. There was no answering presence of another mage and, though this didn’t guarantee the upstairs rooms were unoccupied, it gave him confidence enough to move on.

The lights he’d seen from outside had been to the left of the house, so Roy went right, running a hand along the bump where wooden panelling met newly papered wall. He couldn’t help smiling as he did so. This was the satisfying sensation of being in a place he didn’t belong, echoing the buzz that had driven him to a multitude of less-than-legal activities in his teens.

Magic flaring against his fingertips brought him to a sudden stop. At first glance, the wall here looked no different from the rest of the corridor. But then Roy spotted the narrow gap that ran from floor to ceiling. It was a magic-locked door, flush with the wall and concealed, with no obvious entry point other than a thin, metallic strip along the gap in the panelling.

He licked his lips as he saw the metal, his trained eyes instantly recognising the simple alarm that had been embedded in the wood. It would sound an alert if anyone opened the door, but he had come prepared. Roy reached into the inner pocket of his coat and grasped what he was searching for: a thin rectangular magnet. Alarms like this were common, especially on internal doors that required little security, but the wires inside were easily tricked. Held near the metal connector, a magnet would temporarily disable it. The magical lock, however, should provide a bit more fun. Magnet ready, he turned his attention to the passive spell that was keeping the door shut. The moment he extended his power to read the spell, he recognised it. He froze, blood beating through his ears as he ran over and over the familiar pattern, his shock tinged with pain and grief.

Roy had not encountered a lock like this since he was eight years old. Not since his mother had crafted simple replicas for him to solve — basic imitations of the spells that secured the palace where she had worked.

This was a palace lock.

Fear had swept the country in the days and months following the takeover and, for a moment, Roy felt that fear again. Ardveld’s most powerful mages, slaughtered by their Velbian guests without a mage among them. The Royal Family and their four Champions… All the apprentices and staff who had been at the palace that day. In the twenty-three years since, they’d never revealed how it had been done.

No one left alive should be able to craft something like this. Certainly not for the home of someone like Felix Marek.

Roy realised he was shaking and forced himself to focus. He pulled off a glove with his teeth and rested his hand against the rough wallpaper over the door, reading the spell more easily without the physical barrier. It didn’t seem much more advanced than the practice locks he’d cracked as a child.

Passive spells sustained themselves via a continuous flow of magic imprinted on a physical object. They looped via a framework created from the caster's will, beginning at the start of their intent through to the completed instruction, and so on, over and over again. Further intentions could be layered over the top; in the case of a locking spell, this usually meant adding a pass signature and additional bindings to a door that would each need to be unravelled for the spell to break.

Any spell could theoretically be broken with enough force, but by feeling the weak point in the loop — the point at which the caster’s intent began — only a slight nudge of magic was required to unhook the connection and disperse the spell’s structure.

What made the palace locks different from any other Roy had encountered was the introduction of false loops. It took exceptional focus to set up false intent within a passive spell; it was a lie, told to both caster and reader. The false loop lay over the true instruction, obscuring the weak connection point from view.

This lock had three.

Though feverishly curious about the caster, Roy focused, closing his eyes and working his way through the spell. He unhooked each true loop in turn until, with a whoosh of energy, it dispersed into nothing.

He allowed himself a smug smile, then pocketed his glove, pressed his magnet against the alarm and pushed the door open.

The room was smaller and darker than he expected, lit only by the moonlit corridor behind him. If there was ever a window in here, it had been bricked up, leaving the air stale. Roy didn’t want to risk touching the light switch. Instead, he generated a small magelight that reflected off the glass cabinets lining the walls, then shuffled further inside.

His magic sense immediately picked up the radiating energy of half a dozen spells — traces from small trinkets, faint from behind the glass. Roy directed his magelight towards the nearest cabinet and looked over the contents. A tea set, some metal cylinders, a pair of glasses… Only some had their passive spells still present, though it wasn’t like Marek would be able to tell.

Hair prickled on the back of Roy’s neck and he jerked around.

For a moment, he’d thought someone was in the room with him, but everything remained still. As he scanned the walls, his eyes picked up a faint glow from a cabinet on the opposite side. He moved closer, and the unsettled feeling grew as he approached.

Roy was surprised to find the cabinet empty except for three slim wooden rods, about half the length of his forearm. A handle was carved into the end of each one, reminding Roy of the wands used in the old fairytales. Two were dull and charred, like they’d been taken from the edge of a fire, but the last one glowed, a sickly light emanating from small marks etched into the surface.

Roy opened the cabinet, feeling out with his magic to read the passive spell that must be there. Then he realised what was wrong.

There was no spell. The magic given off was undirected. Faceless.

Whatever marks were carved into the wand were too difficult to see in this light. He went to pick it up, but as his hand tightened around the smooth wood, a jolt of energy coursed through his body. Roy reeled against the cabinet, stomach lurching as his own magic reacted with the intrusive power that surged through him. In a second it was gone, and he was left swallowing the bile that had risen at the back of his throat.

Too hot. He couldn’t breathe. Roy’s vision spun like he’d just finished a Friday night at the bar, and he staggered to the door, yanking it open. Breathing heavily, he leant against the banister until his mind cleared enough to realise that the ringing in his ears was coming from outside his own head.

“Shit.”

He’d completely forgotten about the electric alarm.

Footsteps from the floor below told him that it had alerted the guards to his presence. He backed away from the stairs, wondering briefly if he should try to leave the way he came in. The thought was quickly dismissed as he locked eyes with the man rushing up towards him, gun in hand.

Roy turned and bolted. An angry shout followed, but he was already casting a shield that would cover his back. The corridor ended in a wall, but there were more rooms to his left and he slammed through the first door that opened.

Inside were more of the building works he’d seen downstairs. Dust sheets littered the floor in front of the new hearth, and on either side were windows, through which he could see the bars of scaffolding.

Without time to think, Roy leapt towards the nearest window, fumbling with the latch. It clicked open just as the first bullet ricocheted off his shield, accompanied by a wave of exhaustion as he tried to maintain it. Ears ringing from the gunshot, he threw himself out onto the scaffolding, descending in a half climb, half fall to the garden below.

A second bullet grazed his shield, and it took all of Roy’s focus to prevent it from shattering. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold it if another shot struck. Whatever that wand had done to him, he was running low on magic, and exhaustion was further depleting his willpower. So much for guns not working on mages.

Electric lights blazed on in the house behind him, flooding the patio. Landing had expelled the air from his lungs, but Roy didn’t wait to catch his breath, instead sprinting further into the garden until he was lost in the darkness.

The wall at the end of the garden was as easily scalable as the one he’d used to enter. Roy hurdled it and didn’t stop running until the dirt-covered country path from the house became a streetlamp-lined pavement.

Lungs burning from the sprint, he fumbled off his jacket and turned it inside out to display its lighter lining. It wasn’t much, but it might throw off anyone looking for him. As he did so, he saw the point of the wand poking out from a pocket. He barely remembered putting it there, though thinking back, he must have still been gripping it when he left the hidden room.

Hesitantly, he brushed a finger against the smooth wood, bracing for a shock of magic. But this time it didn’t come. Roy pulled it out as he replaced his jacket and noticed that, though there was still a glow from the symbols, it was now very faint.

The sepia light of the streetlamps was enough for him to see the markings clearly. Each was a series of fine lines ending in circles — they seemed only vaguely familiar until he saw the last. It was a horizontal line with two more lines fanning up from each end, and one vertical line striking down through the centre. Small circles marked the joins with a large circle crowning each point, and Roy’s hand quivered as he looked at it.

It was the mark of the Ardveldian Royal Family.

Next Chapter

@teacupsandstarlight

#fantasy writing #writeblr #my writing #themechanicsofmagic #original fiction

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ahyesthesufferingoftvteens · 5 months ago

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Hi again! :3

Before reeve's reveal in the fic and once moon fever was mentioned in the fic and how it affects those who have it, I had (and still do kind of have) this little theory where not only can moon fever mess up with you and throw in hallucinations at you, but can also affect your physical appearance as well... here it is!

fun fact: when I finished doing the silly on the left I called it a night and went to bed. Then the next day i finished putting on my uniform then came here and check the latest in the hollow tag, only to be jumpscared by a depressed old man that looks like he could die from sleep deprivation at any moment XD

(it also BRUTALLY debunked my theory but let me be delusional for a bit if you don't mind)

The reason why they have galaxy-like spots is pretty obvious, because it's MOON fever, I took it literally and got carried away. moon fever is of course related to jackawock but it could also be related to the moon and stars......and galaxies..... ye

the spots act kind of like vitiligo but not really since they follow a pretty specific pattern before making their entrance

sometimes and entire limb or more can be full of these spots, but it's not that common :p

they also have horns, because yes, horns are pretty cool B) (I have a little hyperfixation with horns if you could not tell)

jackawock shapes the horns for those who are bound to be cursed, if you get a set of horns that is like on the side of your head or prevents you from sleeping in a more comfortable position.... then it must suck to be you I guess xd

there are very few times the horns can be perfect to sleep with and not be a burden, but it's very rare

jackawock can make a human's appearance as fucked up as he wants it to be if he feels very silly one day, but a beautiful kind of fucked up

because of this, those who are cursed use illusion stones to help cover up their appearance in order to not scare others

the only downside to these stones (that I can think of atm) is that their effect only works during daytime, and wears of at night

because of this, it's best to sleep during the day since that solves the issue of being stuck with an unfortunate set of horns and help them to at LEAST get some sleep, it's like the horns were never there to begin with! :D

the patterns will also be covered

by the looks of reeve's design, I'm just gonna assume those who are accursed with moon fever all have eye bags under their eyes and look like they haven't slept in a g e s XD

the galaxy spots can morph into weapons like the example in my doodles, because it's cool B)

although I said the lil guy on the right's horns might be what reeve's horns could look like, I feel like the appearance of the guy on the left is what reeve would look like without the illusion stone, just a bit more fucked up looking..... just a small portion. A part of me wants to believe this theory could come true in later chapters (i'm delusional :3 :heart_emoji:)

alright enough of me rambling, after thinking about how cool and terrifying of a concept moon fever can be, at what age does it usually develop? cause if remember correctly, reeve's case started when he was still a teenager or when he became an adult (speed reading is bad for your memory guys), if that's the case then MAN he's been tormented by hallucinations for a long.. LONG time.

why do I always wait till last minute to start doing things like drawing?

reeve needs a hug, lots of love and affection too! Vanessa will be there, right? :[

speaking of her, are they like..... engaged?... married??.... are they dating or hanging out??? I'm confused :""v

I'm sorry if this is too much for you to answer or give your honest thoughts and opinions on, I'll get out of your hair now GOODBYE!!! i'm going to bed :3

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TOUCHED I AM I'M LITERALLY CRYIIIIIIINNG?!?!

You don't understand how little The Hollow fandom engages with each other. Someone drawing things for my AU? A dime a dozen! This is the highest order of a compliment to me!!! Please do this more often?!?! I don't care if this was just debunked theories I literally love all of this and I'm debating if I should add some aspects to this in the fan-fiction after all! Your art gave me an idea for Reeve having hallucinations of having a monstrous appearance. It would fit his issues perfectly!

To answer one question for you and those on my blog. Vanessa and Reeve in Realm of The Forgotten are not necessarily dating. They are friends with benefits. RTF Reeve and Vanessa are both very sad 30-year-olds that hold immense guilt and shame and disgust and feel they share a responsibility with what happened with Adam and what happened after Adam was comatose. They view themselves as Lilith and Brutus. They're both very stuck in the past. They drink mead and get together every family gathering and then mostly write each other letters otherwise. They do care for each other, it's just...very much closely platonic, but also they are "comforting" each other. Plus Vanessa really really really wants a child and Reeve is willing to help Vanessa achieve that goal; He heavily isolates himself in his temple. He's a man that wouldn't mind relieving some stress.

I'd be willing to answer some other questions, but that requires Mutual Access, which comes with the added benefit of knowing some of the non-revealed plotpoints...so @shadowx16 hurry up and become my mutual already! You're so coooooool!!! I wanna be your tumblr buddy! ^O^

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godihatethiswebsite · 3 months ago

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I just wanna say, I read a lot, both books and fanfic. I consume and like 20 minutes later I can't remember half of what I just read. I went to bed last night and woke up STILL thinking about the latest chapter of Tethered Bonds IN DETAIL 'cause it hurt that bad. You said 'hurt no comfort' and goddamn did you mean it! (I love it. I love it and I'm (very im)patiently waiting on the edge of my seat for the next chapter.) That's all okay byeeee :D

Awwww thank you! ❤️ I can be the same way with reading so I totally get when you find one that wraps you in cling wrap XD

Also technically the hurt/no comfort applied to the first chapter because originally I was planning on it just being a oneshot...

#spill the tea #tethered bonds #got some more written today so we'll see how the next chapter goes

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romaine2424 · 2 years ago

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Daily Blog June 24, 2023

It's Saturday, which means chore day around my household, which also means today's blog will be shorter than usual. :)

What I'm reading:

Still working my way through The Changeling. But I also read a new h/d chapter fic that was just completed, which was okay. It had it's moments but the plot fell apart at certain points. I liked it enough to finish it, but not enough to rec it or suggest others go read it. I did finish The Light More Beautiful last night. I admit I wasn't expecting what Harry's injury actually was. It was such a great read!

(New Category) What WIP I'm following:

Okay you Drarry fans turn away now because this a Dramione chapter fic. Let The Dark In is @senlinyu 's latest fic. The author is one of the premier authors for Dramione and is well known for writing Manacled (377K). I could write an essay on how good that fic is. Blew me away. One of the bravest and most satisfying endings I've read in a fanfic. Let The Dark In is an AU focused on Hermione. There is No Voldemort. Harry has his parents and others, but that doesn't make this fic anywhere close to soft. Hermione is morally grey in this. While Muggle-borns are allowed into Hogwarts, they are looked down upon by most everyone and not allowed into higher positions at the Ministry. She's striving to become Head Girl by her seventh year so she can show them all that Muggle-borns are just as good. But then in her 6th year, the Tri-Wizard cup happens and Draco arrives as a Durmstrang competitor. The fic is at 32 chapters currently and close to 170K. If you love plot, really really good plot, click that link and enjoy.

Tumblr Drarry Fic/Art Resource:

I'm guessing most of you already follow @lostdrarryfics. I admit that I love reading the asks, and despite all of my fic reading I rarely know the the fic they're looking for. @lostdrarryfics home page is a definite goto. Their pinned post has links to a wealth of information, especially the one to Drarry reccers. Can't thank them enough for all they do!!!!!!!!

As I was saying above, I love reading the asks. I find it fascinating what people actually remember from a fic they've read. It's even more interesting humbling when it's one your own. I remember years ago on LJ where there was a similar findfic service someone asked for a fic and what they remembered was H/D discussing their bathroom habits. Harry was shy to go in front of Draco and Harry teased Draco about his morning routine. I cracked up that someone put that in a fic......I about died when the answer was one of my fics. Seriously, a 500K fic filled with drama, angst, action, and this was one paragraph but it's what they remembered. Amazing. So you never know. LOL

Enjoy the rest of the weekend. Russia, Russia, Russia has me very confused.

Cheers,

Rom

#romaine2424 daily blog #june 2023

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senashenta · 5 months ago

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Horror High: Chapter Nine

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit (in other chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Second-last chapter, only one more to go after this! Also available ON AO3! :D

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Nine By Senashenta

Four days into his convalescence, and Cas was already going stir-crazy.

Dean continued to visit him every day to keep him company for a while and help him with his bandages, but he could only stay for so long before he had to get back to the motel to keep an eye on Sam (or Cas’s father kicked him out so Cas could continue resting up from ‘the flu.’) They took to showering together each day, but somehow managed to keep their hands off each other after the first time (mostly.)

Cas had spent most of the first couple of days after being injured just sleeping through the pain, of course, but after that he started carefully puttering around his room, toying around on his laptop—looking up news reports about what had been found outside Caspar High the morning after the Hunt; apparently it was all being written off as a prank or vandals—and reading books. All things that didn’t pull at his wounds too much.

On the fourth day, he was sitting in bed, trying to read his copy of Good Omens and unable to concentrate at all when he finally dropped the worn paperback into the rumpled covers and flopped back. He winced faintly when the gashes on his ribs protested the movement and stared up at the stars on his ceiling for a moment.

He was bored.

A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told Cas that Dean was late getting there: it was almost five and he was usually there by four at the latest. And it had been four days. Surely he could go outside now, at least for a little while. (His “I’ve got the flu” excuse could only last so long before his father got suspicious, anyway.)

So finally, he dropped his book on his desk and proceeded to get dressed, with only a minimal amount of wincing and cursing under his breath. His ribs really were on the mend, but there were some movements (particularly bending at the waist) that pulled them and made them protest. It made getting his shoes on when he got down to the front door an interesting feat to say the least. He was sitting on the little bench by the door, struggling to get his second shoe on when his father’s voice piped up: “Did I just hear you call your shoe an ‘assbutt’?”

Cas didn’t look up but shrugged with one shoulder. “I ran out of more creative insults.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see Dean.” He finally got his foot in his shoe and made a quiet triumphant noise as he quickly tied it.

“And you’re feeling better?”

Uh. Cas straightened, then stood, forcing himself not to wince, and gave his father a nod. “Yes.”

Chuck stepped forward and reached to rest a hand against Cas’s forehead, obviously checking for a fever, but when he didn’t feel one, he dropped his arm again and smiled. “Okay. Go on, then. Tell Dean I said hi.”

“I will!”

Cas scooted out the door before his father could change his mind, heading in the direction of downtown. It normally took just under an hour to walk between his house and the motel, but he kept having to stop and take rests or catch his breath, so this time it took longer. Still, his phone told him it was only just before six-thirty when he arrived on Dean and Sam’s doorstep, which he figured wasn’t all that bad, considering.

He knocked on the motel room door, listening for movement inside, and could hear Dean’s voice, raised, sounding aggravated—and it was Sam who finally unlatched the door and yanked it open with a surprised look on his face. “Cas!” And then he lowered his voice with a glance over his shoulder, “what are you doing here?”

“I was going crazy, cooped up in my room.” Cas lifted a hand to hold at his ribs almost absently, “and Dean was late, so I figured…” He trailed off when Dean’s voice raised another pitch before dropping back to normal again, “what’s going on?”

Sam looked over his shoulder again, then sighed and stepped aside for Cas to come in. Over by the kitchenette, Dean was pacing back and forth, his old flip phone up to his ear and a frustrated look on his face—he kept trying to say things, only to clearly be interrupted by the person on the other end of the line. Eventually he was down to simply “yes, sir” and “no, sir” over and over again. Cas very quickly figured out he was talking to his dad. When Dean looked over and saw him, surprise flitted across his face—and then he got pulled back into the obvious dressing down he was receiving from his father.

“Dad figured out he finished his Hunt a few days ago,” Sam explained, voice low, “he wanted to know why Dean didn’t call him right away.”

Cas winced at that. “Oh.”

“They’ve been going at it for almost two hours now,” Sam continued, “Dean doesn’t want to tell Dad about you, but I think he’s doing to have to. It’s… not good.”

Guilt crawled up Cas’s spine and he looked over, watching Dean argue quietly for a moment. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not.” Sam insisted. “All you did was get close to Dean. That’s not a crime.” The younger teen was currently shoving clothes into a duffle bag—

“—BECAUSE I MET SOMEONE HERE, DAD! I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!” Dean abruptly blurted from across the room, his voice nearly a shout. He had one hand planted on the kitchenette counter, green eyes glaring at the countertop harshly. “Yes, I mean a relationship, what else would I mean by ‘boyfriend’?! I—”

Cas and Sam both cringed when the voice on the other end of the phone got so loud that they could hear it demanding an explanation. Sam went back to shoving clothes in the duffle bag, shoulders hunched a little.

“—because he’s—sick—right now, Dad, and I don’t want to leave him while he’s—” Dean made a frustrated noise and glanced toward Cas from the corner of his eye. After a moment of yelling from the other end of the phone he kicked the counter in front of him and muttered, “yes, sir… I know, but—”

“Come on,” Cas was watching Dean worriedly, but Sam tugged at his arm, hefting the duffle bag of clothes up over his shoulder. “Knowing how Dean feels about you, and knowing Dad, they could be at it all night. There’s no point in standing around listening to it. I’m going to go do laundry and you’re coming with me.”

Though he was reluctant to leave, Cas understood the logic. There was also the fact that he was sure there were things Dean couldn’t say with him around. So, he gave a weak little wave in Dean’s direction and just followed Sam out the door.

The laundry room was just down the row of motel rooms, situated next to the office. It held two coin-operated washing machines and two dryers, as well as a vending machine with little boxes of laundry soap and dryer sheets, and a second vending machine with drinks and snacks. There were also a couple of cheap plastic chairs and a table to match, probably meant for folding your laundry on.

Sam dug in his pocket for some change to buy laundry soap, then emptied the bag of clothes, along with the soap, into one of the washers. A few more coins got it started, and the two of them sat down to wait. It was clear Sam had done this very thing many times before.

“I usually bring a book with me, or my laptop.” Sam explained, breaking the silence after a short while, obviously trying to ease the tension that Cas was feeling at the moment. “But having someone to talk with is good, too.” He paused, then asked, “Dean keeps telling me you’re doing okay, but he won’t let me come with him to visit you. How are you doing, really?”

Cas shifted in his seat, unwilling to admit out loud that the reason Dean didn’t want Sam to come along was that they kept climbing into the shower together. It would be more than a little awkward. Now he just shrugged and brought one hand up to rest against his own side absently. “I really am doing okay, Sam. I walked all the way here and I only had to stop and catch my breath a couple of times.”

“But your injuries?”

“They’re healing. They’re much better than they were before. I…” Trailing off for a breath, Cas smiled and offered, “I haven’t been able to thank you properly, but Dean says you’re the one who patched me up. So, thank you, Sam.”

“I couldn’t just let you bleed out.” Sam shrugged.

“And I appreciate that.” Cas chuckled softly. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cas.”

The rest of the time the laundry was washing and drying was spent with the two of them chatting about various things; classes at school, what it was like for Sam to take classes while on the road with Dean and his Dad, the times that the brothers were unceremoniously dumped off with someone called ‘Pastor Jim’, some of the times Sam had made friends along the way (he had two friends at Bedwin Junior High that he was going to miss, Andy and Ava), Sam’s views on some of his father’s views—but also books, movies and television shows. Cas was a little lost when it came to movies and TV, but he did know his books, and Sam had an impressive library in his head considering he was thirteen. The younger boy’s memory was impeccable.

When the clothes were out of the dryer and the two of them were folding them, still warm, on the sketchy table, Cas fell silent while he worked but Sam decided to address the elephant in the room:

“I see the way you look at each other,” Sam told him almost idly, then continued; “it’s okay if you’re in love with him, you know.” He didn’t even glance up from the shirt he was folding. “I’m pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Cas didn’t jump or jolt at the words, but he did blink several times and give Sam a surprised look. Sam didn’t flinch, just kept folding laundry. Cas looked away, eyes turning downward, and was silent for a long couple of minutes before he licked his lips and managed weakly, “I don’t think he can love me, Sam. With his life, with the way things are for him.”

Sam scoffed at that. “Just because he’s a Hunter doesn’t mean he can’t love. And the way he looks at you…” Trailing off a little, the younger boy laughed softly; “he looks at you like people look at Rembrandts or the Sistine Chapel. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I’ve never seen my brother this way before, the way he is with you.” Finally, Sam spared a glance over to give Cas a little smile, “I think he might even give up Hunting for you, if you asked him to.”

“I could never ask him to do that.” Cas shook his head, “being a Hunter is everything to him.”

“Not everything.” Sam corrected knowingly. “And he’s already gone against Dad for you. That’s something I never thought I’d see.” He finished folding a hoodie and his hands paused halfway to grabbing the next item of clothing. He turned a frown on Cas. “The jorogumo thing.” He said firmly, “I’m sure Dean already told you, but you were stupid, Cas. You should never have gone there, never have gotten involved. You got hurt.”

Cas brought one hand up to his ribs again, pressing there with the faintest of winces, and his eyes flickered downward. “I know.”

“What I know he didn’t tell you is how absolutely frantic he was when he brought you back here. He was panicking and Dean never panics. If you’d died, it would have destroyed him.” Sam smacked a hand into Cas’s arm lightly for emphasis before going back to folding laundry, his energy full of frustration now. “Honestly, you two are driving me nuts. You spend practically every waking minute together. And some of the sleeping ones, too. You moon over each other constantly. You almost get yourself killed and he absolutely loses his shit because of it. You’re practically living in each other’s pockets, but you’re both dancing around the issue like freaking ballerinas. I wish one of you would just say it already and get it over with.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam.” Cas offered softly. “I know you know that. You’re a Hunter, too.”

“Not by choice.” The younger teen informed him flatly before frowning over at him, “and it’s not fair! When two people find each other like you guys have—people who were clearly meant to be together—they should be able to be together with no reservations.”

“You’re an idealist.” Cas accused with a little smile. “Don’t ever let the world take that from you.” And then; “Sam, listen, I… you’re right. About how I feel about Dean. I don’t know for sure how he really feels about me, but I…” Trailing off, he shook his head. “You know. And I plan to show him as much as I can before you two have to leave, even if I can’t tell him. Okay?”

Sam grumbled under his breath but nodded anyway. “Okay.”

“You care about him a lot, don’t you? His happiness.”

“Well, yeah. He’s my brother.”

Cas’s smile grew. “You’re a good kid, Sam.”

Sam gave him a little half-grin from the corner of his eye, and they continued to fold laundry until everything was done and re-packed in the duffle bag. Then they made their way back to the motel room. When they walked in, Dean was seated on the edge of his bed, his elbows propped against his knees and his head in his hands. The cell phone was discarded on the mattress beside him.

Sam just went about putting the clothes away, but Cas sighed softly and headed over to stand in front of Dean. Dean didn’t look up, but his arms lifted to snake around Cas’s waist, and he lifted his head just enough to press his forehead into Cas’s solar plexus, just under his ribs. Cas just brought one hand up to stroke through Dean’s hair gently.

“You okay?”

Dean mumbled something under his breath and tightened his arms around Cas just the slightest bit. “M’fine.”

“You’re not.” Cas continued petting through his hair, just warmth and affection. “I’m sorry about your Dad.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Dean shook his head slightly, bangs mussing against Cas’s shirt. “I’m in so much trouble.”

“You shouldn’t have told him about me.”

“I couldn’t help it. He was hounding me, and I just…”

“I understand.” Cas smiled down at him. “I’m glad you think so much of me, Dean.”

“I… yeah.” Dean’s arms tightened around him even more, making Cas wince just faintly. “I really do.”

“You guys are disgusting.” Sam protested from the other side of the room, “get a room already.” And then; “another room.”

That finally got Dean to lift his head, though he didn’t release Cas entirely, and he leaned over to glare at his brother. “Dude, we’re not even doing anything.”

Sam was just finishing putting the last of the clothes into the drawers of the small dresser that came with the motel room. He closed the last drawer and then crossed over to shove the empty duffle bag under his bed. “You’re always doing the sappy, lovey-dovey crap, though. I could live without it. In fact, you should go to Cas’s place. Like, immediately.”

Dean made a face and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Actually, that’s not a terrible idea.” Then he looked up at Cas and added, “it’s getting late, we should get you home. How did you get here, anyway?”

Cas blinked down at him. “I walked.”

“In your condition? Cas.” Dean frowned.

“I’m okay, Dean. I made it. I’m still alive.” Cas offered a reassuring smile and toyed with Dean’s hair a little more, almost absently. Dean leaned into the touch. “Do you want to walk me home?”

That made Dean smile, just a bit. “Yeah, I could do that. Maybe stay for a little while if it’s okay with Chuck.”

“Mm, I’d like that.”

Sam made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Dean glared at him around Cas again. “You are such a little bitch sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not a lovesick jerk.”

-- --

Cas’s first day back to school was a Friday. He’d tried to tell his father it was pointless to send him back on the last day of the week, but Chuck had informed him that if he was well enough to leave the house and visit his boyfriend, he was well enough to go to class. Cas could kind of see his point, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it.

Dean, of course, had stopped going to class pretty much the instant the jorogumo thing was over and done with, so was obviously not there to meet him in the morning when he arrived on the steps of Caspar High. Cas hadn’t realized just how disappointing that was going to be until the exact moment that he automatically looked for the older boy and he wasn’t there. In the end he had to quash the discomfort in his stomach and just head on inside to his locker. Alone.

He wasn’t alone for long, though. He was standing in the drama hall, digging out his books for first class, when hurried footsteps approached him from the right and suddenly someone next thing to tackled him. “CAS!”

Cas nearly bit his tongue in an effort not to yelp out a curse, stumbling sideways while his wounds throbbed painfully. At least the tackle had been on the opposite side from his injuries. After a moment of catching his breath, he brought one hand up to pat against a familiar head of red hair. Platonic affection. “Hi, Charlie.”

Coming behind Charlie, at a much more sedate pace, were Jody and Garth, and Cas gave them a little wave, which they each returned in kind. Cas hadn’t been expecting much of a welcome back after being away for the week, and this was actually kind of… nice. If abrupt and somewhat painful.

Charlie squeezed him hard once more, making him wince, before releasing him and stepping back. She tilted her head slightly. “We missed you in calculus. Where were you?”

Cas rubbed at his ribs without even meaning to. “Sorry. I was sick. I had the flu.”

“Yeah, I heard that’s going around right now.” Jody commented, “I guess it’s that time of year.”

“Exactly.” Cas agreed. He felt bad, lying to his friends like this, but it was necessary. It wasn’t like he could tell them the truth about Dean and his family and the spider monster that had been living in the school’s basement. “But I’m fine, now.”

“Not contagious?” Garth joked with a grin.

Cas blinked. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Cough on him and we’ll find out!” Charlie suggested, obviously joking.

A little smile spread across Cas’s face as it occurred to him that, just maybe, the rest of his final year of high school wouldn’t approximate torture after all, even if Dean wasn’t there. He did have friends—and he was absolutely sure they would stand up for him if they needed to. (Especially Charlie.)

“Where’s Dean?” Jody again, sounding curious, “you two are practically attached at the hip these days, I’m surprised he’s not here with you.”

“Oh,” Cas wilted visibly, and everyone’s expression immediately shuttered into something obviously sympathetic, “uh.”

Charlie reached to squeeze his arm gently. “Breakups are hard. Especially when you’re really close to the person.”

Jody and Garth nodded in agreement—but Cas quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not like that, it’s—” Breaking off, Cas let his gaze fall to the floor, eyes shifting back-and-forth as he considered his words before; “his family moves around a lot, and his Dad’s job is taking them somewhere else now, so he’s… I mean. He’s in town for a couple more days, but he’s gone from school to pack up and everything. And then he’s taking off.”

“Oh,” Was the general consensus from the other three.

“Are you okay?” Garth asked after a moment.

Cas shrugged slightly and went back to digging his geography books out of his locker. “I’m… I mean. I’m not great. But there’s texting, and video calls, and video chat on the computer, and the phone and…” Trailing off, he shoved his books in his backpack and then admitted softly; “and I’m not actually okay.”

“Oh, Cas,” When Charlie hugged him this time it was gently and with more than a bit of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, I know you two are close.”

Cas accepted the hug with a sigh—even hugged back just a little. “It hurts.” He told them quietly. “I mean… it feels like we should be together forever, and instead…”

Jody made a soft agreeing noise. “Relationships can be like that sometimes.”

But Garth was the one who actually said it; “you’re in love with him, huh?”

Charlie looked up at him, curious to see his reaction even though she already knew what it would be, but still didn’t stop hugging him. Cas’s eyes skittered away and down, and he shrugged again before admitting softly, “yes, pretty much.” He was still avoiding saying the actual words out loud, though. “And I don’t know for sure, but I think… I think he feels the same way. About me.”

There was a round of murmurs amongst the three of them. Charlie gave him another gentle squeeze before finally letting him go again and giving him a reassuring smile. “I knew you two were meant to be. If that’s the case,” She told him firmly, “then do the whole phone calls and video chat thing, for as long as you can.”

“I always thought you two made a good couple. Maybe a little odd, but good.” Jody commented with a smile, “I’m sure you’ll make it work.”

“People make the long-distance thing work all the time.” Garth added encouragingly.

“That’s…” Cas offered a little, half-hearted smile in return, “that’s what I’m hoping. Because honestly, I can’t picture my life without him at this point. Even eating lunch today is going to be weird without him. I can’t just eat in our spot by myself, right?”

“Naaaaaah,” Charlie waved a hand dismissively, “Cas, my man, you are definitely eating with us at the Weird Kids table in the caf from now on. You are a Weird Kid, now.”

“I think I was already a Weird Kid.”

“Yeah, but now it’s official.” Charlie grinned, while Jody and Garth chuckled to themselves. When the warning bell for first class went off, they all glanced up, then back at Cas. “You gonna be okay?” Charlie asked, more seriously.

Cas smiled again, a bit more real this time. “I’ll be fine, Charlie, thank you.”

“Just checking.” She brought one hand up to squeeze his arm, “we’ll get you through this.” And then, “gotta go. Come to the cafeteria at lunch today, we’ll find you!”

“Okay.”

“See you later, Cas.”

“See you.”

They all hurried off to their respective classes while Cas slumped his way to geography.

-- --

At lunch time Cas made his way to the (dreaded) cafeteria, where Charlie waved him over to a table in the corner where she, Jody, Garth were already seated, along with a girl named Jo and a younger boy named Kevin. Jo was nice and kind of reminded him of Dean in a lot of ways. She wore a lot of denim and leather and after he watched her interact with the others for a little while he understood why she fit in with them so well. Kevin was a little harder to pin down because he was quiet and didn’t talk as much as the others, but what he did say was witty and sarcastic, if awkward at times, and everyone else seemed overly fond of him. Like he was the little brother of the group.

When Cas pulled his lunch out, he discovered two sandwiches—he had packed one for Dean strictly out of habit—and wilted a little, but the others quickly changed the subject and brought him back up again, even Jo and Kevin, who had apparently already been apprised of the situation.

So, lunch hour wasn’t so bad. No one bothered them in their little corner and, Cas thought, if it was like that every day then he could probably get used to it. He would always miss Dean and their little sanctuary under the gym bleachers, though, that much he was sure of. Still, this was a passable substitute. He could get used to it. Probably.

After school, once he had packed all of his homework into his backpack, Cas didn’t even bother going home, just walked straight to the Seafoam Motel, where Dean was waiting for him. He opened the door after the cursory check through the peep hole, locks all unlatching in quick succession until Cas could smile at his boyfriend face-to-face. Dean dragged him inside by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a long, drawn-out kiss that made happiness bubble up inside him.

When he looked around after they parted, he was surprised not to see Sam. “Where’s Sam?”

“School. He always goes until the very last minute.” Dean took his backpack and deposited it beside the door, then tugged him over to sit down next to him on one of the beds. “Bedwin gets out an hour later than Caspar does. Starts an hour later, too. Unfair, really. He always got to sleep in.” A shrug, then, “how was your first day back?”

“I did okay.” Cas reached for one of Dean’s hands, toying with the older boy’s fingers gently. “I ate lunch in the cafeteria with Charlie and the others, and they introduced me to a couple more people that I also don’t have any classes with. Jo and Kevin. I think you’d really like Jo, actually. She reminds me of you.”

“Is she roguishly handsome, too?”

“Stop.” Cas bumped sideways into him with a smile. “No, she’s just tough and strong and opinionated. She’s nice, though. So is Kevin. So, I guess I have a couple more friends to ride out the year with, which is good, even if I don’t have any classes with them. I think they’ll all get me through.”

“That’s good. I know I said just each lunch with Charlie and the others, but I was a little worried.”

“You always worry about me.”

“I do.” Dean confirmed, then, “speaking of which, how’re your ribs?”

“Well Charlie full-body tackled me this morning in greeting, and that was unpleasant,” Cas grimaced slightly, “she didn’t know, obviously. But other than that, they’re okay. They still hurt, but it’s more of a bruise hurt than a huge gouges hurt now, so it’s tolerable. And the actual bruises are almost gone, just a couple are left, the ones that were the worst.”

Dean made a little pleased noise at this news, though Cas was sure he would rather have made his own assessment. “That’s great to hear. I was worried you’d be in pain all day today.”

But Cas shook his head, “no. I only had to take some aspirin once. I was fine.”

“Good.”

They were quiet for a bit, then, just sitting next to each other while Cas toyed with Dean’s fingers absently. They were both going to miss little moments like this when Dean was halfway across the country. They were soaking them in while they could.

“I just keep thinking about all the kids who go to school there and have no idea.” Dean sighed finally, “Caspar High? More like Horror High, right?”

Cas just smiled, though, and leaned sideways against his boyfriend, wincing just the slightest bit at the movement. “It isn’t Horror High to me. I met you there. It could never be Horror High, even with a jorogumo in the basement.”

Dean chuckled and turned his head to kiss against Cas’s temple. “Subjective High, then? But I think that’s pretty much all high schools. Also, it doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Mm.” An agreeing noise. Cas turned a little to tuck himself closer into Dean’s side. Finally, he asked, “you’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

“I—” Dean had to pause and swallow hard. He wrapped an arm around Cas, careful of his ribs, as if that simple act would keep them from being separated. “Yeah, I—as soon as my Dad gets here from Utah.”

“Two, three days, then?”

“He’s just finishing out his case first, but yeah…”

Cas offered a sad smile and pulled him into a kiss. “So, we’ll just have to make the next couple days count, that’s all.”

“What do you suggest?” The question was asked against his lips, into the kiss.

“I think…” Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s and met his gaze, blue clashing with green. “I want you to stay over again, even if my Father is around. I don’t care what he thinks, I just want to be with you as much as possible until I can’t be anymore.”

Dean smiled, just a sad little quirk of his lips. “Maybe we should go on a date. A real date. Before we can’t.”

Surprise. “I’ve never been on a date before.”

Dean chuckled, “neither have I, really. What do normal teenagers do when they go on dates?”

“I think the stereotype is dinner and a movie.” Cas hummed, “but we kind of did that already when you stayed over at my place.”

“Does pizza and Netflix really count, though?”

“I have no idea,” Cas admitted. He was kind of out of his depth with this sort of thing. “What if we go to a diner? I know you probably get lots of diner food on the road, but there’s one that I keep hearing about, I think it’s called Maggie’s. Apparently, they have really good cheeseburgers? I could look them up and check out their reviews.”

Dean grinned, “you had me at cheeseburger.” He squeezed his hand in Cas’s gently. “Maybe after we can just go for a walk, like normal people. Pretend the world isn’t as screwed up as it actually is.”

“That sounds nice.” Cas agreed. “And after, you can come home with me for the night. Okay?”

“Your Dad is going to kill me.”

“No, he won’t. I think as long as I’m happy he’ll be fine. As long as we’re not too loud.”

“Were we loud?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? But there was no one else home to tell us to keep it down, so.”

“Not for nothing, but it could be awkward screwing around with your Dad in the house.”

“Well, we don’t have to have sex,” Cas clarified, then, “I mean, I would like… to have that with you, as many times as I can before you go. But just being with you is enough for me, too.”

Dean chuckled, “’as many times as you can’, huh?”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, playing with Dean’s fingers where they were tangled up with his own once more; “you’re like a drug, Dean. I can’t seem to get enough. It’s been like that since day one, since we met, I…” Trailing off a little, Cas squeezed Dean’s hand again and continued; “I consider myself incredibly lucky, that you decided to befriend me, and then more. But I’ve been addicted to you since the very first moment, and it’s only gotten worse with time. The more time we spend together, the more I get to know you, the more we do together, how close we’ve gotten—physically and emotionally. It all leaves me craving more. I’m going to go through withdrawals when you’re gone.”

“We’ll still talk,” Dean reminded him, “video chat and all that stuff you drilled into me.”

Cas smiled. “I know, but it’s not the same, is it? As being able to touch you. Kiss you.”

A soft sigh and Dean joked, “Dad is going to get really pissed off with all the weekends I take off to meet up with you in some seedy motel.”

A laugh from Cas. “Specifically seedy motels?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“You just specifically look for the seedy ones, that’s all—ah.” Cas cut himself off with a wince, letting go of Dean’s hand and bringing his own hand up to rub at one ear harshly. “That hurts…”

Dean looked at him in surprise. “What…?”

He continued rubbing at his ear, even though he knew it wouldn’t help matters, as he responded, “ever since the jorogumo, when I hit my head, I keep getting this… it’s like a ringing in my ears. Or a high-pitched whine. Sometimes both ears, sometimes just one. But sometimes it’s loud and it hurts.” Not that he wanted to give Dean anything else to worry about, but… “I’m sure it’ll stop eventually, I just have to deal with it for a while until it does.”

Dean was just opening his mouth to say something, starting to look worried, when the sudden onslaught of sound stopped—and Cas worked his jaw a couple of times, dropping his hand back down again. “See? It goes away fast.”

“I feel like you should see a doctor about that.”

“Yes, but how would I explain it to my Father?”

“Just… tell him about the ringing in your ears. You don’t have to tell him about the jorogumo.”

A fair point. “I guess.”

Dean squeezed his arm around Cas and reached to take hold of his hand again. “Promise me you’ll get it looked at?”

Cas had to smile, just a little, at Dean looking out for him again. “I promise.”

They both fell into silence then, just sitting together for a few minutes before Dean asked, “did you have homework? You should probably get working on it if you do.”

“Mm-mm.” A soft negative noise and Cas shook his head, “I mean, I do. Have homework. But I’ll do it tonight after I get home.”

“I just don’t want you to stay up too late, that’s all.” Dean toyed with Cas’s fingers gently as he spoke, “you should still be resting.”

“You worry too much.” Cas accused fondly.

But Dean just came back with a kiss and: “I worry just enough, thank you very much.”

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #destiel #destiel fanfiction #spn #shut up sena #sena writes #horror high by senashenta

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