#is the actual prompt perhaps lost in here? probably

[katsu28]

Kait these prompts are so cute what about feed with Stevie!!!! 🥺

god this one was so cute i totally got carried away! thank you for requesting it, my dear emma!! <3

[FEED] sender offers receiver a spoonful of what they're cooking so receiver can taste it, steve harrington x reader, 1.6k

Living with Steve Harrington was a dream come true. Hell, better than a dream. 

Steve had sold his parents’ house a little while ago, taking some of the money that he’d gotten for it and buying a nice little place just on the outskirts of town, small enough for the two of you but big enough if anyone needed a place to crash for a bit.

Since you’d moved in a few months ago, there was rarely a day where it was just you and Steve at home. There were always people coming in and out, hanging around, swinging by to borrow something. It was the de facto hangout spot for your friends, always loud and full of warmth because both Steve and yourself had already been through enough cold empty hallways to last yourselves a lifetime. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Today was no different. It was Dustin’s sixteenth birthday, and Steve had come up with the genius idea of having a little surprise party at your place. This obviously meant that he and you would be in charge of getting his favorite foods, which, like any good mother would, Steve knew off the top of his head. 

“Stevie, where do we keep the nice napkins?” You asked, sticking your head into the kitchen. Steve glanced up from where he was parked in front of the stove stirring the giant pot. His apron was wrinkled, glasses askew and hair a mess like he’d been through a tornado, when in reality he was the tornado. 

He’d been bustling around the house from the minute he woke up, muttering to himself about how much food he needed to make for the party tonight. You’d barely gotten in a good morning kiss before he’d rushed the both of you to the grocery store, and since you’d gotten home he’d been posted up in the kitchen, chopping, dicing, stirring, you name it. 

You offered to help many times, but Steve had a thing about people being in his space when he was in the zone. You were an exception most of the time, but today was not one of those times.

“You wanna let those hooligans use the good napkins? No way, they’re getting paper.” He scoffed, propping one hand on his hip. 

“You have such low expectations of them. They’re teenagers now.” You giggled, swatting his butt playfully on your way to the cabinet to break out the paper napkins. Steve jumped a little bit, but managed to keep his composure, shooting you a pointed look. It was half obscured by the steam wafting out of the pot, but still served its purpose. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I have such low expectations of them.”  He grumbled. You hopped up on the counter by the sink, far enough away from Steve to where you weren’t crowding him, but close enough to see the crinkle in his brow as he frowned at the pot in front of him. 

“I still don’t understand why you had to make so much chili for the party.” You sighed, hopping up on the counter. “There’s only eleven of us.” 

“Have you seen the appetite of those boys? And Eddie too, for that matter? I honestly think this might not be enough.” He wondered aloud, peering into the depths of the pot. You snorted. There was enough chili to feed a whole army. “Plus, it’s not called Claudia’s famous chili for nothing. And don’t you look at me like that, Dustin adores his mom’s recipe, so I asked her for it.” 

“Steve…” 

“What? What, what’s wrong? Why are you saying my name like that?” 

“You are so his second mom.” 

Steve’s worried frown morphed into an annoyed one, eyes rolling so far towards the back of his head you wouldn’t be surprised if they got stuck. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but the flush of pink creeping across his cheeks gave him away. “Shut up.” 

“It’s cute!” You insisted. 

“I am not his mother!” 

“No, of course not.” 

“I’m not.” He said, just one more time for good measure. When all you did was nod very unconvincingly, he rolled his eyes. “C’mere, try this.” He scooped up a little bit of his concoction, padding across the kitchen to you and holding the spoon up to your lips. 

You were too busy looking at him to notice the droplets dribbling down your chin as you ate it, too busy admiring the way a few wayward strands of chestnut fell over his forehead, the way he gazed at you like you making a mess out of a spoonful of chili was the greatest thing he’d ever seen. 

If you asked Steve, he would say that everything you’ve done was the best thing he’s ever seen. 

His thumb swiped across your chin gently, wiping your face clean with the utmost care. “Good?” 

“Holy fuck.” 

“Right?” 

“Keep the recipe, you’re definitely making this again for us.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Steve mock saluted you, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead before turning on his heel and heading back to the stove. 

The apartment soon became chaos again, but this time instead of just Steve whirling around the place, everyone was here, chattering away, straightening out last minute details, waiting for Eddie to bring the birthday boy under the guise of a new DnD campaign. Jonathan and Argyle were finishing up hanging the birthday banner El and Will had painted, with Nancy directing them. Robin was “testing the quality of the food dingus cooked” (she was really just snacking), Lucas and Mike were arguing about who got the better gift for Dustin. El, Will, and Max were really the only calm ones, deep into a conversation about god knows what. 

Steve, ever the perfectionist, was squinting at the list in his hand as he paced a hole in the floor, the other hand dragging through his hair, again and again. 

You snagged him by the elbow, tugging him into the empty hall gently. “Relax, Steve. Everything’s sorted out.” 

“I just want him to have a good birthday.” His shoulders slumped, and you suspected that it might’ve been more than just that. You slid your hand up his chest, around to smooth your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Hey, c’mon. Talk to me, what’s going on?” 

“I don’t know, I just…sixteen is big. Important.” He sighed, letting his forehead lean against yours. His brow was furrowed, lips downturned into a frown that you wanted nothing more than to kiss away. “I remember my sixteenth birthday, it was awful. My parents weren’t even there, and I had a party, but I didn’t have anyone who really cared about me.” 

“Oh, honey…” You sighed, giving the back of his neck a gentle squeeze. 

“Maybe I’m just projecting, I dunno. It’s not like I really care about what happened back then anymore. I just don’t want him to turn out like me.” 

“You turned out great, Steve. Take my word for it, you are so much better than whoever you thought you were gonna be.” You said firmly, taking his face in your hands. You needed him to know that whatever happened to him when he was sixteen, it didn’t determine who he was now. If anything, it helped him get to where he was today. “And Dustin’s gonna turn out just fine too. You wanna know why? Because he’s got a good group of friends who always have his back. He has Eddie and Nancy and the rest of us, but most of all, he’s got you. And you’re gonna be there for him, for whatever he needs. Whether he likes it or not.” 

You wished you could bottle up the look on Steve’s face and keep it forever with the way he was looking at you right now, bright honey eyes shining, perfect pink lips parted. 

“Everybody shut up, Eddie just pulled up in front,” Max hissed, cutting off anything Steve wanted to say. She quickly threw the curtains shut from her position as lookout. “Go hide!” 

You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was still staring at you. “You okay now?” 

Steve blinked, nodded quickly, letting a small smile stretch his lips as he intertwined your fingers. “I’m good.” He guided you into the kitchen to hide, pulling you a lot closer to him than you actually needed to be. “Thank you.” 

“I’m always your number one fan, Steve Harrington.” 

Eddie’s loud voice echoed from outside, boots clomping along the walk that gave away exactly when Dustin swung the door open. 

“Surprise!!!” 

“Jesus Christ!” Dustin yelled, jumping about five feet into the air. “Dickheads!” 

El rushed forward before anyone else could say anything, squishing the curly haired boy in a very enthusiastic, possibly bone-crushing hug before holding him at arm's length and beaming at him as she poked a finger into his chest. “Happy birthday, Dustin. You’re old now.” 

“Thanks, El.” He chuckled. The rest of you took your turns wishing him a happy birthday, until it was just Steve left. 

“You planned this?” Dustin asked the older boy, raising an amused brow. Steve shrugged nonchalantly, but the fond grin on his face told Dustin all he needed to know.  

“Happy birthday, Henderson.” Steve said, holding his hand out for a shake. Dustin looked down at his outstretched hand, then back up at Steve briefly before lunging at him in a rather forceful hug. Steve stumbled back a step or two, but wrapped his arms around the younger boy, slapping him on the back a few times. When both boys pulled back from the hug, Steve planted his hands on Dustin’s shoulders, plastering a faux serious look on his face. “Right, so…sixteen. You’re becoming a man now, you gotta—” 

“Oh my god, stop it!” Dustin groaned.  

“No, I’m serious! Eddie, back me up here—” 

“Harrington’s right, Henderson, sixteen is big!” 

“Jesus, not you too!”

follow @katsu-library to get notified when i post new fics :)

[candyk0rn]

Comforting your tears-BG3

If they found you crying

Ugh I know my old friends are sick of this prompt because I’ve probably done it one hundred times..but can you blame me??

Before reading: gn reader, Angst (if you squint) with comfort, Astarion x reader, Gale x reader, Halsin x reader (separate)

Astarion:

Astarion has shed his fair share of tears in his prolonged life

Not recently, of course (Unless this takes place after a certain quest line…)

And he’s used to seeing others cry, wether they be his conquests when they realize his actual intentions,

Wether he sees a lost child in the night sobbing for his mother,

Wether it be a sad woman mourning a loss in the darkened graveyard

But he’s never seen you cry, and he’s never craved that sight either

He’s not sure why you were crying, and he doesn’t take time to ask you that

Because if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what to do

He has never once had to comfort another’s tears, and if he ever has, there was always an ulterior motive

But here you were, trying to suck back floods of tears before him

And all he could do was stand still, a small furrow in his brow

In all honesty, he waits for you to do something first

To reach for him, to say his name, anything

Even just telling him to go away would be enough, because it would give him the slightest bit of direction

If you shove him away, without hesitation he shall flee

But if you move the slightest bit, he rushes to your side

His hand twitch as they hold you, not knowing if this is truly what you need to feel better

But perhaps, these hands which have killed many,

Can also comfort.

Gale:

Similar to Astarion, he’s not quite sure what the best remedy for a broken heart is

But he is a lot less clueless

When he sees you, he wishes so badly to take all of your pain and inflict it onto himself

He’d rather die than see you like this again

He thinks back to his youth, how his mother would confer him when he would cry or become upset

He also thinks ‘How would I want to be comforted?” Only to be bombarded with thoughts of Tara purring sleepily in his lap

So that wasn’t gonna work

He silently takes you in his arms, rubbing loving circles into your back

He kisses your temple, whispering ‘What’s wrong?’ Into your ear

If you shake your head or don’t respond, he’s not going to push you for any more information

If you begin to tell him, he listens diligently, not interrupting you

He rocks you back and forth, hoping he’s helping you in some way

My bro is trying his best 💪

Halsin:

Halsin is easier than the other two because omg he’d be the best at comforting you

Like Gale, he would just scoop you up in his arms and shower you with affection

He’s also a very smooth talker

You need him to distract you? He already has a story to tell you

You need him to whisper loving nothings into your ear? He’s gonna make it his life goal to make your cheeks grow red

He takes your hand in his, placing it atop of his chest, allowing you to feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing

This is something he does often, waiting for you to follow suit

Times like these are precious to him, because it shows him that you feel able to be vulnerable around him

In his eyes, vulnerability is so beautiful, even if it leaves your face tear stained and red

He presses his lips to your temple, lingering for a long moment

He wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while

Thanks for reading!!

[hailsatanacab]

a father's son

Happy holiday truce, @dashing-through-ecto!! I was your gifter this year, I hope you enjoy the fic! Based on your prompt: "Do you need any help, Dad?"

Word count 2.2k - ao3 link

Things have not been going well for Danny Fenton.

Not only did he fail in intercepting Lancer’s call home, so now Mom and Dad know about his latest grades—he didn’t even get enough answers for an F this time, not when he fell asleep within the first five minutes—but they also caught Jazz taking the trash out for him.

“That’s one of your chores, young man! Heaven knows you don’t have many of them, which is why you need to be responsible and actually do the ones that we give you! It’s just not good enough, Daniel James Fenton, do you hear me?”

The full name.

It’s not often he gets it, but it sucks each and every time he does.

What sucks even more is that now, with what little free time he has, he’s cleaning the lab. It’s just not fair!

Broken glass skitters along the floor as he sweeps it up into the dustpan, ectoplasm still clinging to the bottom of the beaker. 

He can’t even goof off—can’t even use his powers to finish quicker—because his dad is sitting at the workbench tinkering with whatever his newest interest is.

Great. Looks like he’s stuck cleaning the boring, human way.

The lab is quiet, but it isn’t silent. 

Ectoplasm drips, maddeningly, from the gloop stuck on the ceiling. That’s a form of torture, isn’t it? Danny’s pretty sure he’s heard that before, that the constant sound of water droplets will drive someone insane. He can relate, because this is certainly testing him.

Dad’s talking to himself, too, little murmurs about what he’s doing, where he should be soldering, how it should be working and why it isn’t. 

Vaguely, Danny wonders what he’s working on. Sure, it’s probably some ghost thing, but that’s not all they do! His parents made some pretty great advances before the portal switched on and monopolised all of their thoughts.

Yeah, that might be wishful thinking, but stranger things have happened! You never know.

Every 30 seconds, the motor on the ecto-filter whirrs into life, syphoning off the excess, pure ectoplasm from the portal and filtering it into something less volatile. In theory.

Underneath everything, the portal hums.

A droning beat that pulses in the same rhythm as his heart. Sometimes, he catches himself staring at it, leaning closer as it calls to him.

It scares him.

“Shit!” his dad shouts, dropping the soldering iron with a loud clang. 

It’s enough to knock Danny out of whatever daydream he’d lost himself in and he whirls around to see his dad sucking on one of his fingers.

They lock eyes, both widening as they realise what’s happened.

“Ah, I mean, suffering spooks! That really hurt…” He shoves his fingers back into his mouth and his shoulders droop as he considers Danny. “Don’t tell your mother.”

Danny laughs.

“Are you alright?”

“It’d take more than that to put Jack Fenton down! All good, Danno, don’t you worry,” he smiles back before shaking his hand out and turning back to whatever he was working on. “Or, I would be, if this hunk of junk was cooperating with me!”

“What’s up?” Danny asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

Normally, he likes to stay out of the lab, as much as he can. 

Obviously, what Phantom does doesn’t count. Phantom can’t help but come into the lab, set ghosts loose into the Zone, trash whatever weapons his parents have got going on, sneak out into the Zone when he can for some much needed R&R. The ectoplasm just hits different there.

“I’m trying to repurpose this toaster, but the ecto won’t run smoothly through the wiring. I think it keeps getting cooked by the element.”

“Oh? Do you need some help?”

Danny doesn’t like spending time in the lab, because if he’s in the lab then he’s either Phantom and he’s trying hard not to be seen or heard, or he’s Danny and he’s being punished.

But his curiosity is piqued.

“Yeah, come here, have a look! Perhaps another Fenton brain can knock some sense into it!”

So, he does.

Hell, anything beats cleaning the lab.

“You’re trying to run it through here?”

Dad nods and shifts in his seat to give Danny a better view.

“But you can’t, because the ecto is tripping the heating element… which is way higher than a toaster has any right to be, wow. No wonder it’s destabilising the ectoplasm, that would destabilise anything.”

Danny pokes around the casing, wiggling the wires back and forth to get a better look at the absolute mess his dad has made of it all. Sometimes it amazes him that his parents' inventions work at all.

“That’s what I’m thinking! But it has to be that high so we can completely break down the ecto!”

“You want it to break down?”

“Yep!” Dad says, clapping him on the back hard enough that he wheezes. He grins down at him when Danny turns around reproachfully. “Think of it, boyo, if we could figure out how to flash fry that ectoplasm high enough so that it evaporates—which it should do, it’s goopy gross liquid, after all!—then you wouldn’t be stuck down here cleaning for so long! We could take it to the streets after a ghost fight and clean up the whole town!”

Well, it’s not a Nobel Prize level invention… Danny’s pretty sure at this point that his parents would be laughed out by the Nobel committee. But, a quicker cleaning of the lab does sound nice.

It would mean he’d be stuck down here a lot less.

Besides… It's interesting.

“What if we…” Danny trails off and pulls the metal frame towards him, grabbing the tweezers as he goes. Vaguely, he’s aware of his dad leaning over his shoulder, the weight of him watching is a comforting presence that he’s not felt in a long while. 

The real trouble is that you need ectoplasm to affect ectoplasm, and that’s not going to work if the object of the game is to evaporate it. 

So what if they don’t introduce the reactive ecto until the end?

He makes quick work of stripping down what his dad’s already done and starts again, this time focussing on keeping the heat contained separately away from the ectoplasm. Just as he’s piecing together a trigger to concurrently shoot a blast of ecto towards the heated tip, Dad exclaims as he realises where he’s going with it.

“Oh! Danny, you’re a genius! Look at that!” Dad laughs and squints closer at what Danny’s doing. “Just wait until your mother sees this, she’s going to be so happy!”

Danny can’t help but grin as he ductapes everything to a piece of toaster casing to give it the first test try. Dad’s enthusiasm is catching as he whoops when the first puddle of ectoplasm burns off in acrid smoke.

They spend another couple of hours perfecting it, welding a case together and branding it with the Fenton F.

It’s not pretty—but then again, when are his parents’ inventions?—a long stick with a cattle-prod-like taser at the end. Instead of electricity, it launches ectoplasm from one rod and superheats the other. When activated, all you need to do is touch the tip to a puddle and poof! It’s gone.

Danny shivers as he watches another pool go up.

But, no! He’s thinking about it wrong. It’s not a cattle-prod, it’s more like one of those sticks you see people using on the highway to jab at the litter on the floor. It’s for cleaning. It’s going to make his lab cleaning chores way easier! It’s—

“Danny, just look at it!”

Danny looks at it, and then back to his father’s face when he can’t bear to see the smoking ecto anymore. It’s painfully happy and Danny does his best to be happy, too.

“Here!” Dad shoves the contraption into Danny’s arms. “You use that and finish what you’re doing and then when you’re done—I can’t believe I’m saying this, galloping ghouls, I’m so happy, I’m working with my boy—we can get to work transferring it over to the Jack o’ Nine Tails! Imagine it, Danny, with one whip and that pesky poltergeist Phantom will be gone!”

Danny freezes.

It feels as if Dad’s just dumped a bucket of ice water over him.

“Poof! Up in smoke!”

The fumes are getting to him. That must be it. His head is swimming and his stomach is churning. There’s a ringing in his ears and it melds with the sharp, stinging whirr of ectoplasm sizzling. It pulses in time with the portal behind him.

He stumbles, almost goes down—almost throws up—but it doesn’t matter. Dad doesn’t see him, already turned away back to the work bench.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

You know what, it’s okay! It’ll be okay, Danny can sneak back down here later tonight and he can undo it all, it doesn’t matter!

Take a deep breath, now, finish cleaning the lab, ignore Dad—it doesn’t matter—and get this over with. Being here makes his skin crawl, he needs to finish—

“I’m so proud of you, Danny.”

For the second time, Danny stops.

Dad doesn’t say anything else, just sits with his back to him, opening and closing his hand over a screwdriver with the Jack o’ Nine Tails splayed out in front of him.

It takes longer than Danny wants to find his voice, but he manages to croak out, “What?”

“I’m proud of you, Danno. I know this year hasn’t been easy for you, don’t think we haven’t noticed. Your mom and I have been talking about how you're doing at school. We're not blind. We know kids can be cruel, and that Dash Baxter… But we're so proud of you for not rising to it. We love you so much, Danny.”

A lump grows in Danny’s throat and his eyes prickle.

His fingers bleach white where they grip the Fenton Evaporator too tight.

“Look at what you can do when you try, Danny! This is the boy that I know, this is the Danny that I love. I’m so proud of what we’ve done here today. It’ll make the world a better place, just you wait! Now, come on, boyo, pass me that soldering iron and let’s really get stuck in!”

And… And Danny does.

With shaky limbs and tears threatening to spill, Danny reaches over and passes Dad the soldering iron, watching as he gets to work, and when his dad asks him to get his hands dirty—“Here, run this wire up the rope, there’s a good boy!”—he does.

Danny does it all and he does it well.

He sucks in a deep breath, swipes a hand over his eyes, and he helps his dad.

He laughs when Dad tells his stupid jokes:

“Quick! What’s red, white, and blue all over?”

“I don’t know, Dad, what’s red, white, and blue all over?”

“A ghost that we’ve beaten into oblivion!”

And he hopes that his mom is going to be just as proud as Dad says she will be when she sees what they’ve done.

It’s easy, really.

If he doesn’t think about it, if he tucks his mind away and just lets his hands get on with it, then he’s just helping his dad and he can do that. He can do it.

He can do it.

So, no, he doesn’t sabotage what they’ve built. He doesn’t add in a failsafe. He doesn’t loosen a few screws, or overload the element, or untwist a few wires.

Danny does his best and at the end of the day his dad holds up the new and improved Jack o’ Nine Tails and absolutely beams at him. A work of art, he calls it.

Danny doesn’t sabotage it then and he won’t sabotage it later, because it’s a work of art. This is what he and his dad built. Together.

Danny can’t help but grin back, happiness curling in his belly even as it gives a sickening lurch.

He doesn’t eat dinner that night, he can’t.

He stays downstairs long enough to present the new weapon to Mom—very pointedly ignoring Jazz’s look—and then he heads upstairs. There’s an English essay he needs to get started on, after all.

He doesn’t miss the look Mom and Dad share, the fond tenderness, the love, the hope, all directed at him.

He’s happy.

They’re happy.

They’re proud of him.

And despite it all, he had fun today! 

When he lays down on his bed, he smiles and he can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as he thinks about his dad. At one point, he had been holding up a circular piece of metal he’d cannibalised from the lamp shade to his eyes, moving it back and forth as he pulled his funny faces, and some of that full belly laugh creeps back in as he remembers doing the same back.

He laughs so hard until he cries, and he cries, and he cries. 

Today, he and his dad built a weapon. 

Tomorrow, it'll be used on him, but that's okay. 

It's okay because today, today his dad was proud.

[redslug]

Helping Neuroslug help me

Admittedly it took me an embarrassing amount of time to figure out and start using inpainting, but now that I've had a taste of it my head is spinning with possibilities. And so I'm making this post to show the process and maybe encourage more artists to try their hand at generating stuff. It really can can be an amazing teammate when you know how to apply it. For those who didn't see my first post on this, I've trained an AI on my artworks, because base Stable Diffusion doesn't understand what anthropomorphic insects are. That out of the way, here we go:

I noticed that a primarily character focused LoRA often botches backgrounds (probably because few images of the dataset have them) so I went with generating a background separately and roughly blocking out a character over it in Procreate. Since it was a first experiment I got really generous with proper shading and even textures. Unsurprisingly, SD did it's job quite well without much struggle.

Basically masked out separate parts such as fluff, skirt, watering can, etc. and changed the prompt to focus on that specific object to add detail. There were some bloopers too. She's projecting her inner spider.

Of course it ate the hands. Not inpainting those, it's the one thing I'll render correctly faster than the AI does. Some manual touchups to finish it off and voila:

The detail that would have taken me hours is done in 10-20 minutes of iterating through various generations. And nothing significant got lost in translation from the block out, much recommend. But that was easy mode, my rough sketch could be passed off as finished on one of my lazier days, not hard to complete something like that. Lets' try rough rough.

I got way fewer chuckles out of this than I expected, it took only 4-5 iterations for the bot to offer me something close to the sketch.

>:C It ate the belly. I demand the belly back. Scribble it in...

Much better. Can do that with any bit actually, very nice for iterating a character design.

Opal eyes maybe?

Lol

Okay, no, it's kind of unsettling. Back to red ones. Now, let's give her thigh highs because why not?

It should be fancier. Give me a lace trim.

Now we're talking. Since we've started playing dress-up anyway, why not try a dress too. Please don't render my scribble like a trash bag. I know you want to.

Phew

I crave more details.

Cute. Perhaps I'll clean it up later. ... .. . SHRIMP DRESS

[thebest-medicine]

#5 “No, I’m just- uh- sensitive.” with Dean and Cas?

Prompt 5 - "No, I'm just- uh- sensitive."

A/N: oh man it's a throwback... let's go!!!! to quote @nhasablogg: what in the 2014 is happening here

…

Dean twitched again as Castiel’s hand passed the middle of his back, just between the shoulder blades. Castiel watched him with a twinkle of concern.

He had come in and sat down on the couch at Dean’s invitation earlier, only for Dean to then lounge across the couch and his lap, laying face down on a pillow and popping some reruns on the TV. Cas had taken it upon himself to shower the hunter with a little affection and check to make sure he was uninjured after their last outing. This led to Cas rubbing his back and neck here and there, and some affectionate tracing along his skin (perhaps also a ploy to check for sore muscles or knots) to see if he could help Dean feel a bit better.

“What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Nothin’.” Dean hummed against the pillow on the arm of the couch. “S’fine.”

Cas continued tracing along the muscles of Dean’s shoulders, pushing in when he sensed a knot and massaging here and there. He ran a few fingers along his spine up to his neck and Dean flinched again.

“Dean.” Cas stressed, stopping his ministrations.

“It’s fine, Cas. I’m… it’s just- uh- sensitive there.”

Castiel leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of the human’s expression to better read him. He seemed content, happy even, he wasn’t getting up or moving away. He wasn’t hiding anything… any injury, right? Cas noticed a rosy coloring on the tip of his ear. He smiled gently.

“Sensitive.?” He inquired softly, starting to curl his fingers again along the back of Dean’s neck and over his shoulder, along his back. The thin t-shirt was soft under his fingertips, and it must have been on Dean’s skin as well. Dean squirmed again, digging himself deeper into the couch and Cas’s lap. Cas caught a strangled bit of a laugh almost made its way through the pillow. He smiled a little as he caught on.

“Sensitive… like you are here?” Cas continued, and suddenly his other hand was scratching at Dean’s ribcage.

Dean squawked at the new, more directly ticklish contact. He curled onto his side. “Hehheehe- wait! Nohohohohohooo!” He laughed, his blushing face now free. Cas caught sight of his delightful smile and felt warm.

“Can I get you to laugh like this if I try tickling back here?” Cas said curiously.

Dean protested through his laughs as he squirmed about, still tired, but didn’t do much to actually stop the ticklish attack. Cas drew both hands back and started to make the same spidering motions along the backs of Dean’s ribs and tracing up and down his spine. He scribbled at Dean’s neck, then at the small of his back. Dean laughed all the same, twitching and twisting until he finally squirmed his way onto his back, facing the angel. He caught Castiel’s hands in his and Cas stopped for a moment, taking in his wild eyes and fierce blush in contrast with his freckles.

“Heh- yeesh. You trying to kill me?” Dean laughed, closing his eyes under the scrutiny.

“You have a very sweet laugh.” Castiel said, smiling as Dean squirmed at the compliment too. “And a very ticklish back.” Another squirm.

“Shut up. You’re probably worse.” Dean scoffed.

“Well, maybe you’ll find out one day.”

Dean looked back up at him, raising an eyebrow with a little smirk. “Wanna find out?”

“Not now.” Cas smirked after he spoke, and Dean gave him a bewildered look before fingers fluttered along his stomach and began pinching his sides, and Dean lost his protests to laughter once again.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further SPN drabbles on ao3]

[screamingcrows]

bestie i am so late to the one bed prompt (purely bc i didn’t see it) so if you don’t have spoons for anymore please know i won’t be offended, but if you feel up for it maybe the prompt "We're both tired, so please just get in." with mister albedo 👀🫣

I hope the alchemist is soft enough /lh💙✨

By all accounts, it'd been a long day trudging around Dragonspine with Albedo. As his student you'd insisted on accompanying him, and to the surprise of everyone, Sucrose included, he'd actually agreed.

It was only the first day and already you were utterly exhausted, limbs filled with lead from the strain of hiking to his little hide. Tumbling down hills, constantly slipping, fingers nearly freezing off, the frigid wind threatening to rip your skin to shreds, it was all manageable. It was all physical phenomena, they could be reversed through various measures, warmth being the most alluring at the moment.

No, as you followed Albedo the last of the way, the only thing on your mind was how he'd outright laughed as you tumbled and fell headfirst into a mound of snow. He'd been quick to pull you out, hands gripping your hips tightly while you wiggled. His assurances that he'd only laughed due to the resemblance of a snow fox hunting didn't bring much comfort, although they were cute animals. The combination of his smooth chuckle and firm hands banishing all thoughts of the cold, heat still flooding your cheeks at the mere memory.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Your mind snapped back to the present, stopping your movements as Albedo's clear eyes pinned you, the snowflakes reflected making them glitter. Ah, you'd probably missed something.

"I'm sorry, Master Albedo, I was just lost in the scenery..."

A plausible enough lie. The way his smile faltered when you spoke the title made your stomach sink a little, perhaps it was better to address him by name only as he'd requested. But Sucrose didn't, and she'd been his student longer.

"Ah, it is breathtaking is it not? Truth be told, most of my visits here take as long as they do because, well because I enjoy it here. The air, the view-"

His gaze turned back to you, a sheepish smile crossing his features before he turned around and began walking, gesturing for you to follow.

"You must be freezing, let's get inside first," he had barely finished the sentence when a plateau came into view.

His base looked comfortable, a well sheltered cave, furnished with more equipment and bookshelves than you could fathom anyone lugging this far into treacherous terrain.

The evening passed in relative quiet, Albedo taking inventory of what he had while you sat with a book, eyes barely open towards the end. Changing was done fast to minimise loss of heat, yet it still felt as though ice flowed in your veins when you glanced around the firelit space.

"Mm, can I just take a bed?"

"Oh," his voice contained something unfamiliar, akin enough to disbelief that hearing it from him set you on edge, "it seems I-... forgot to plan for certain aspects of bringing a visitor."

And that was when you took the time to really look around, there was a single bed tucked into a corner and that was it for places to comfortably lie down. That was unfortunate, but not quite as unfortunate as how giddy the thought had your tired mind.

"I'm truly sorry, I hadn't considered sleeping arrangements. Go ahead and take the bed, I can just as well rest here," he sounded apologetic, voice a little softer than usual as he gestured to his chair.

That wouldn't do. Despite the fact that he clearly wasn't bothered by the frosty climate, his short sleeved coat told you as much, a chair couldn't possibly be comfortable. Patting the space next to you, you steeled yourself.

"We're both tired, so please just get in."

"I insist, please, make yourself comfortable. Isn't it my responsibility as your teacher to ensure your comfort?" he sounded almost a little melancholic, quickly shaking it off.

"Albedo, I'd feel terrible. Just get over here, it's not like anyone's ever died from sharing a bed.

A small glint entered his eyes, the flickering flames dancing across his skin when he approached. Deft hands made quick work of his outer layers, your eyes unable to peel away from his hands. There was a hint of hesitation, but it didn't last when you lifted the thick blankets for him. He was surprisingly warm against you, even through the multiple layers there was a marked difference with him in the bed.

Your weary body quickly began shutting down, having accomplished the last goal of the day, your eyelids were heavy as you turned your back to him, knowing it would be impossible to sleep with the promise of his lips any closer to yours. The arm that carefully came to rest around you brought a wave of security with it, as did the brush of soft lips against your nape, a pleasant tingle running down your spine.

Maybe the reason he'd accepted you along and not Sucrose was easier discerned than it first appeared.

Only one bed prompts

[autismprotocol]

TMAGP Theory Board (Episode 8-9)

Hi guys sorry about the missed week of theory crafting my schoolwork has been extra demanding and I haven't been able to get around to updating the board until now so here's the updated board

Episode 8 especially was insane so I'm gonna break the episode breakdown into two sections.

What Happened in Episode 8: Running On Empty

New Norris Statement! it's been a while since we heard from our buddy and he did not disappoint. though there's not much to say story-wise this was just a cool incident report I loved the way they described the Lonely as a constantly hungry entity. I also noticed that the pattern of Norris's statements having to do with lost love continues to be true. it's much more subtle than his previous two incidents but the statement giver does mention losing his wife because of divorce. which I believe still follows the pattern I've theorized is taking place. 

Something up with Alice. She seems more depressed and serious than she usually is in this episode. (through episode 9 I think I know why but I'll get to that later. I don't believe she is completely in the dark like some of the newer employees and after hearing about Gwen's promotion she is getting suspicious. we have yet to know if Alice knows what's happening. but her behavior in this episode might give us a hint about how naive she actually is.

Colin is Absent. After his freakout in EP 7, Colin is MIA. according to Lena, he's on a mental health break but I would not be surprised if that is a lie.

Gerry and Gertrude are Alive!! Probably the most exciting development in this episode was meeting an alive Gerry Keay and Gertrude Robison. Sam is on the hunt for info about the Magnus Institute after the emails Jon has been sending him and he and Celia end up meeting Gerry who in this universe is considerably more happy and lives with Gertrude. I'm interested to know what role Gertrude plays in this universe is she at all connected to the Institute? I definitely think something is up with her because of the way she tries to deflect Sam's question to Gerry.

Celia Lore. after the meeting with Gerry leads to a dead end for Sam, Celia asks him to help her with her mystery. "I'm trying to look into... Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation" More proof for this Celia being from from Archives. why else would she be looking into other dimensions specifically if she wasn't trying to figure out what happened at the Panopticon. (Remember as far as we know Celia before the change in Archives was just a normal person she had no connection to the entities or the Institute.) when Sam asks, she says it's for her friend's podcast but I think she's lying. or not telling the full truth.

Georgie Barker Perhaps? speaking of the friend. our last reveal of the episode is Georgie in protocol. I don't think she is from Archives because Georgie appears after Jons's sacrifice in MAG 200. 

And thats it for episode 8 so im gonna move on to Episode 9

What happened in Episode 9: Rolling With It

Sam is back to filling out onboarding paperwork but the questions on it are strange. asking about past traumas, how many dead things you've seen recently, and the infamous question why? similar types of questions that appear in TMA job interviews.

A Magnus Statement!?! After Celia tells Sam she can't find anything at the Magnus Institute Sam considers cutting his losses and letting it go. But then Chester without any prompting begins reading a Magnus statement incident to Sam. I still believe Chester is Jon and he acts as a mentor to Sam trying to keep him safe by providing him with bits of the answers he's looking for. (this way Sam won't be in danger of looking for answers elsewhere and maybe he won't be targeted by this unknown force that had killed RedCanary and driven Colin to extreme paranoia.) the statement reveals that the institute collected and stored artifacts much like the Institute in Archives. 

What's the deal with the Institute? the statement Chester shares this episode is pretty standard Magnus stuff, magic fear dice is just another Thursday for TMAG enjoyers. but what I found most interesting was the pre-statement info. What does this viability survey mean? viable for what? I and my roommate have a kind of joke theory that the Institute in this universe is a hub for training and creating new avatars but now I'm starting to think this might actually be the case. I think they are looking for people who have the potential to become avatars as subjects. for the agents, they might be employing avatars to work for the institute and the catalyst has to be finding an avatar that can complete the ritual and bring the Change. The unknown statement giver in this episode can't be a subject because they are already claimed by a power from the dice (still unsure what power it is ) they have low potential to become an agent because based on the end of the statement they now want nothing to do with the dice stepping away from their identity as a fear avatar and then dying. and for some reason, the institute must see some potential that this individual can serve as a catalyst for the ritual. I'm hopeful we'll get another avatar statement and maybe we can revisit this Viability survey again 

Gwen's First assignment. Gwen gets her first Liason assignment and it has brought up a major player from the protocol ARG. Mr Bonzo is this weird mascot character that showed up multiple times in the ARG that was launched back in the fall of 2023. Gwen is tasked with delivering an envelope with a name and address to Nigel Dickerson someone who according to Gwen is known for Mr. Bonzo. Basically, I have no idea where this is going but I definitely think it must be important. 

Poor Alice. Alice meets with Teddy to catch up. Nothing story significant happens here but we do learn that maybe Alice still harbors some romantic feelings towards Sam.

The Ruins. After her conversation with Teddy Alice is approached by Sam with a request. He wants to go to the old Magnus Institute ruins and wants Alice to come with him. This is definitely a bad idea but she agrees and that's where we leave off

and thats it for now. The story is getting so good and I'm already attached to all the characters so im terrified to see what Sam and alice dig up at the ruins (Sam clearly didn't heed the warning of the RedCanary)

[turtlesocksv2]

Let's talk Fate

ok for #kpanniversary2024 the first prompt is Fate and boy howdy is that a good one to start a rewatch with. Because from the very beginning, as soon as Kinn and Porsche crossed paths there was only one way it was going to play out. In fact, even before that, Porsche's fate was sealed as soon as he was born and here's why:

Porsche was always going to end up in the Theerapanyakul family one way or another. Nampheung was basically kidnapdopted when she was child by Grandpa T, was raised by him, grew up with Korn and Gun who both end up in love with her (or at least psychosexually obsessed with her). And when she was old enough she got out of there. She married a man and had (what we assume to be) an ordinary life for at least 8 years. But here's the thing: Nampheung never actually got out.

Nampheung was allowed her little housewife cottagecore daydream by Grandpa T. I call it that kind of dismissively, we don't know anything about her life, actually, maybe she had a highpower job, etc etc. but the point is that as soon as Grandpa T decides to call her back home, back to the Theerapanyakul Mafia, she is powerless to stop it. In the flashbacks we see of the moment Porsche's dad died, The things that really sticks out to me are these 3:

1: Gun and Korn both came to visit and in at least one version, they are there at the behest of Grandpa T who wants to see Nampheung.

2: Pat says that they will never go back to that house and that the family is rotten. (which implies that Pat also has a connection to the family, I am a 'Pat was Nampheung's bodyguard and they ran away together' truther and this leads into the last point and perhaps the most significant

3) Porsche was hiding in the cabinets when Korn and Gun are there. Now, I don't know about how your family operates but i'm pretty confident that isn't exactly normal behavior when your family has guests. Like, little kids are usually pretty excited to have company, especially people who grow up to be as extroverted and gregarious as Porsche is. Korn and Gun are obviously unaware in the moment that Porsche is hiding. Pat probably knows because I'm convinced that this is a safety drill they'd run many times. Nampheung and Pat knew that someday, Grandpa T's generosity would run out, or he'd die, and the Theerapanyakuls would come calling again. They were trying so hard to keep Porsche out of that life, but it was never going to happen. If they'd lived, Korn and Gun would show up to darken their doorstep at some point. And since they died...well, how did that turn out, hmmm?

Porsche (and Chay but lmao Korn and Gun don't give a single fuck about Chay so we'll just ignore the baby for now ) ends up in the guardianship of an unreliable gambler under the thumb of loansharks. Porsche ends up in illegal street fights to make money. He is being pushed in the Theerapanyakul's direction. Make no mistake, at some point the loan on his house was going to end up in Theerapanyakul hands, or Chan was going to come up to Porsche after a fight, and that would be that. There is no world in which Korn lost track of his beloved Nampheung's sons, not when he's so obsessed with her he has her locked up in his attic. Gun, at least, has the excuse of thinking Porsche and Chay are dead along with their parents. Korn was just playing the long game.

Is it fair to call it fate when it's being orchestrated by someone? Well, I guess that depends how far back you think the hereditary curse goes.

It was never about Kinn and Porsche at all. Nampheung knew it was always going to end here. She tried to stop it. It didn't work. She was never going to get out. Her sons were never going to get out. And now they're more enmeshed than if she'd never tried at all. Sounds like fate to me.

[spartanguard]

an important date

it's Friday and it's Colin's birthday....I had to do something!! Just a bit of a post-canon Captain Charming scene, inspired by this prompt: "We both meet at the bar at a birthday party but we don’t even know who’s birthday it is. I think it’s yours, you think it’s mine." 1.1k, rated T | AO3

The Rabbit Hole was…well, the Rabbit Hole—its usual divy self. It wasn’t where Killian would typically expect to find David, least of all on the prince’s birthday.

At least—he thought that’s what Emma had said? She’d all but shoved him out of the station that evening, with the direction to meet her father here for a “birthday drink”. Of the birth dates he’d memorized (and would never forget—Emma’s, Henry’s, Hope’s), he realized he was severely lacking when it came to his in-laws.

But perhaps David’s would be easier to remember, given its proximity to his own. Or, rather, when he thought his own was; the actual date was long since lost to time, realm travel, and changing calendars, and it had been centuries since he’d actually done anything to mark the date, but he remembered it being in spring. 

Really the only fond memory he had of the day was picking fresh wildflowers with his mother, the light scent filling their small house, and the sweet taste of the modest cake she’d baked. When the hyacinth began to bloom in Storybrooke, he was always taken back to that day, and generally used that milestone to mark the passing of his years—but he’d lived enough of them that he needed no extra celebration or recognition.

As it was, the first shoots of spring had only just begun to emerge, so by his math, that put David’s birthday—or whatever today was—a few weeks ahead of his own. Good to know.

He scanned the bar for his mate—squinting a bit harder than he’d like to admit in the dim light (further evidence of the passage of time, he presumed)—almost missing him at the far end of the counter, until David waved at him.

“Evening, mate,” he greeted as he slid onto the barstool next to his father-in-law. “Not your typical scene, eh?” he added, nodding towards the rest of the bar, where all manner of seedy goings-on (well, as much as ever happened in Storybrooke) were happening—things the deputy sheriff should probably be concerned with, but he was off the clock (and had no room to talk).

David shrugged. “I’ve been known to pass the occasional night here—cursed and not cursed. Having royalty around seems to keep things calm.”

“Aye, but you’ve never been here with a pirate,” he winked back, even if it had been ages since he’d anything resembling a rowdy night. The most exciting his had been lately were the times that they managed to get a teething Hope down early enough to squeeze in some intimacy, but he wasn’t going to admit that to Emma’s father.

“No,” David agreed. “But I figured I could manage for one night. To mark the occasion and all.”

“Aye; it does warrant that. My apologies for not knowing the date sooner—happy birthday, Dave.”

But instead of the customary thanks, David just tilted his head at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

Bloody hell—had he misheard Emma? “We’re here to celebrate your day of birth, are we not?”

“No; my birthday is in July—so now I kind of am offended,” David replied, though his tone was light. “Wait—did Emma not tell you?”

“She told me to meet you here for a birthday drink—I assumed that meant it was yours.”

“No, man—it’s yours.”

“Come again?” He’d never so much as commented to anyone, including Emma, the whereabouts of birth date; so how would either of them, least of all David, have known?

David explained, “Remember near the end of her pregnancy, when her magic was kind of overpowered and she was trying to release it?” How could Killian forget? He spent a whole week with blue hair, and trying to keep Pop-Tarts from flying around the house. “Apparently during that, she was trying out a bunch of easy, informational spells; there was one about revealing birthdates. Turned out mine was off by a couple of days. But yeah, she did yours, too; she never mentioned it?”

Killian was momentarily speechless. Not out of betrayal or anything—things were rather chaotic leading up to Hope’s birth, so he didn’t blame Emma for letting it slip her mind—but moreso that it had been able to be determined.

And, despite the last several years being filled with things such as True Love, marriages, and more family than he’d ever imagined having, he was still touched by the idea that anyone cared enough about him to know the date he’d entered this world (or whichever world it was)—and even more that they wanted to acknowledge it. 

“Uh, no,” he said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. “I seem to recall her pregnancy brain was pretty bad then,” he quipped, hoping to lighten the moment. “So—really? Today?”

“Today,” David confirmed. Killian thought back to the wildflowers—then recalled that he grew up in a far warmer climate than Maine’s, perhaps the reason for his miscalculation.

(Also: he now understood why Emma had woken him with morning sex that day. That was never something he’d question, though—and also something he wouldn’t dare mention in present company.)

The barkeep then set two glasses of amber liquid in front of David. He slid one across the worn wood to Killian, then raised his own. “Happy birthday, Killian. To the best son-in-law—best friend—a man could ask for.”

Killian clinked his glass against David’s and quickly took a sip, hoping it might wash down the lump that had formed in his throat. Alas, it didn’t—but at least it was there with good reason. “Thank you, mate; and, uh, the feeling is mutual.” It wasn’t often words escaped him, so hopefully his father-in-law picked up on the weight of the emotion in his voice; he tried to find David’s eyes, but was overcome with an odd bashfulness he hadn’t felt since youth.

David just gave a gentle chuckle and a solid, brotherly thump on the shoulder, before attempting to down his own shot of rum—which brought on laughter of a different kind, but it broke the bit of tension. 

They shared another drink after (whiskey; far more palatable to the prince), before leaving to their respective princesses—and sharing perhaps a stronger embrace than Killian had originally intended, but it was certainly called for. 

As sweet as his memories from childhood were, it was nice to add this one to the collection of birthday remembrances—the first in so long. (And, as he eventually found, not the last—not by a long shot—in the many years to come.)

(However, he still refused, in all those celebrations, to tell David the way Emma preferred to mark the occasion.)

-----------------------------💙💙-------------------------------

[thanks for reading, and happy Captain Charming Friday! tags below cut]

@optomisticgirl @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook388 @kmomof4 @kat2609 @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @annytecture @phiralovesloki @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows @wingedlioness @word-bug @thisonesatellite @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich​ @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz @resident-of-storybrooke [let me know if you do/don't want tags!]

[prettyboybuckley]

30, for buddie please?

hi anon ❤️ thank you for the prompt! exhaustion got to me so it took me a little while to write it, but I hope you like it!

from the soft prompts: ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’

Eddie never really figured out how to introduce Ana as his girlfriend without feeling awkward. It didn't surprise him at the time, because he'd felt the same about introducing Shannon as his wife, for a long time, at least.

So he'd always assumed that was kind of the norm. That he'd always feel awkward introducing his partner, or that maybe that's how most people feel doing that, even. 

In hindsight, that was a stupid thing to assume, probably.

The point is that when he and Buck start dating - and holy shit, they're actually dating - he expects it to be as awkward as it's always been. Perhaps even more awkward, considering that yes, this is Buck, but he's also never dated a guy before. He's never introduced anyone to his boyfriend before.

(Well, that's not entirely true, but those were all people that already knew Buck. It wasn't so much introducing Buck as it was telling those people that they were dating now.)

And then comes the PTA meeting.

Eddie doesn't particularly like PTA meetings, they are long and boring and half the shit that gets discussed is pretty much trivial. He goes anyway because he cares about his son's education, and it's polite to show his face and interact with the other parents. 

He doesn't expect Buck to see it on the calendar on the fridge, turn to him with a bright but somewhat hesitant smile, and ask: "Can I come with?"

"Yeah, of course," Eddie answers without even having to think about it for too long. It'll be much more fun with Buck by his side. 

The realization that he's going to have to introduce Buck to all these parents - at least the ones that haven't met him before - doesn't cross his mind until they're already getting out of the car in the school parking lot.

It's probably a good thing that it doesn't, or he would’ve been all up in his head about it. As it is, he freezes right there next to the car, watching couples and single parents alike make their way into the school.

"You alright?" Buck's voice sounds, suddenly right next to him. He must have walked around the car while Eddie was lost in thought. Buck's hand slips into his, tangling their fingers together.

"I'm fine, just thinking. C'mon, let's go."

He pulls Buck along to the school entrance, greeting some parents he vaguely recognizes along the way. Once inside, they follow the directions to the gym, and it's only when they're there that Eddie finally pauses. His hand is still wrapped tightly around Buck's, and he has no intention of letting go, but that also means that someone is going to notice.

"Eddie, hi!" someone says, and he turns around too quickly, pulling Buck along and making him stumble a bit. See, there's the awkwardness already. It's Katie's mom, Jennifer, who Eddie has talked to on multiple occasions. He's pretty sure she tried to flirt with him in the beginning, though he isn't sure why she stopped. "I see you've brought someone along this time?"

This is usually where it gets awkward, where Eddie stutters out an introduction and embarrasses himself and his partner in the process.

But this time he follows Jennifer's gaze to look at Buck, and he finds Buck smiling at him, soft and so damn happy, as if there's nowhere he'd rather be than here at this PTA meeting with Eddie, and it's not awkward at all.

"Yeah, this is my boyfriend, Buck," Eddie replies, only taking his eyes off Buck at the end of it, and he pulls Buck a little closer as he smiles at Jennifer. "Figured it wasn't fair that he's only been getting the fun parts of raising a kid now that we finally got our shit together."

He and Jennifer both laugh at the indignant squawk Buck lets out at that, and Eddie only grins wider when he stumbles because of the little shove Buck gives him with his shoulder. It's not as if he's in any danger of falling when they're still holding hands, and as soon as he's stabilized himself again, he's pressed right back along Buck's side.

Buck is grinning, too, when Eddie looks at him, and he allows himself a moment to get lost in his boyfriend's eyes. Turns out that didn't feel awkward at all, it simply felt right.

"Just kidding, we both know you've been helping with the less fun parts all this time, too." He pauses for a moment, then turns back to Jennifer. "Now, Jen, have you heard any good gossip lately?"

Next to him, Buck snorts, and Eddie is going to get teased later for caring about gossip in the first place, but he's pretty sure that his boyfriend listens just as attentively while Jennifer tells them of the rumor she heard about two of the teachers hooking up.

[forpiratereasons]

meeting stede bonnet

a slow meandering through June. third prompt: discover!

day 1 | day 2 | day 3 | day 4 | day 5 | day 6 | day 7 | day 8 | day 9 | day 10

-

Obviously, Stede found men attractive.

This was the gay part of the thought, I’m gay. Perhaps even the defining feature of it. Despite having only allowed himself that thought several days prior, Stede was not exactly surprised to discover that attraction to men was part and parcel.

Hugh Grant was attractive, for example. Richard Armitage was attractive. That bloke on the telly at six on Sundays doing the weather was attractive.

Not a problem, Stede had thought. Men! Hands and shoulders, body hair and the napes of necks. Fantastic.

The thing was, though: Stede was not in any danger of meeting Hugh Grant.

Stede was very much in danger, at this moment, of meeting the man in leather trousers and a cropped shirt queuing in front of him at the hot dog stand.

His heart hammered in his chest. His palms were sweaty. Was there some—some protocol he didn’t know? To finding men attractive in real life?

Not that he intended to act on it, not here and now in the hot dog line, but just  looking, at the hands and the long beautiful neck and skin full of tattoos and not instantly turning away—it was breath-taking, it was chest-crushing, it was—it was—

“Next!”

It was Stede’s turn.  

“Er,” he said intelligently, trying not to watch Leather Trousers saunter down to the end of the stand for condiments. “Two, please.”

The kid behind the stand took his card. Stede didn’t watch as Trousers struggled to balance two hot dogs, a mobile phone, and a bottle of mustard. Definitely not. Nope.

“Let me hold that for you,” someone said.

Trousers looked up. Right at Stede. Because Stede said it. Did he? Must have done, because Trousers was looking at him.

Trousers had warm, dark eyes that crinkled at the edges. Stede’s heart, for its part, had an arrhythmia.

“Cheers, mate,” Trousers said, handing Stede his mobile. “Pockets in the leather are a nightmare.”

“I imagine so,” Stede managed. Was he blushing? He felt like he might be blushing. The kid behind the stand also looked like Stede was blushing: incredibly smug in the way only teenagers can be. “Must be terribly hard to get out of them.”

The mustard blurted inelegantly onto one end of Trouser’s hot dog, like it had been squeezed too hard. He looked at Stede, sharp-ish grin forming along the corners of his mouth, and dragged his gaze all the way down to Stede’s shoes and back up again, focusing briefly on the progress pride flag pinned to his chest.

“Why? You offering to help with those too?”

Stede blinked, realised what he’d said. Blushed further, yes, he was definitely an unhealthy red now, wasn’t he?

“Oh, shit,” he said, flustered. “I’m so—that wasn’t what I meant, I wasn’t—”

“Think you were, a little bit,” Trousers said, still grinning. “You could tell me your name first, probably. Only polite.”

Absolutely positively humiliating, and yet. And yet.

Stede was smiling. Couldn’t stop smiling, actually, good lord, he was almost giggling.

So this was it, then. This is what it was like.

Seeing someone, liking the look of someone—what people meant when they said, our eyes just met, and I knew. Flirting. Being flirted with.

Stede hadn’t—he couldn’t have done, before. Trousers was the sort of man he might have caught sight of, but he’d have looked away. Turned aside. Shoved down the inclination.

To catch sight of this man now, to let himself linger on the carved angles of his wrists, the brown skin and black ink, the silvered hair, the dark eyes—to look, and find those eyes looking back—to breathe through the jolt in his stomach until it spread wings from fear and into possibility—

It felt like discovery. Like finding something he’d been looking for.

Like finding something he thought he’d lost.

“Stede,” he managed. “Stede Bonnet.”

Trousers smiled. Took Stede’s hand in his, when Stede reached to give him back his mobile, and held him a moment; his skin was sun-warm, rough. “I’m Ed.”

I’m going to remember you, Ed, Stede thought. I’m going to remember this.

Ed’s smile turned soft, like he heard. Like he agreed. “Do you want to grab a bench? Eat some lunch?” He gestured toward the waterline.

“You know,” Stede said, smiling back, “I think I do.”

[velvethopewrites]

The sob story with this is that I wrote this yesterday and it got deleted before I could save it. I wanted to die cry, basically. Somehow I managed to re-create most of it, after working on it all damn day. (I basically ended up writing over 6,000+ words in one day. Yowza) I still feel as though the first version was better, but…no one knows that but me, I suppose. (And my partner, who got to read it right before the horrors happened). Regardless, I am proud of this and proud of myself for not giving up when it really would have been easy to. So huzzah to the fickle hand of fate and all that stuff.

For Suptober 2023 prompt “starlight”

I tag @fellshish and @canonblastedships and @clarkenting for being super cool reblog buddies, lol (which is just a thing I made up) This is the longest destiel fic I’ve written yet and it will be my first official AO3 destiel! (As soon as I remember how to do that, oy)

Edited: Now with Spiffy AO3 Link! Here!

The Starlight

There were three types of people that visited the Starlight Lounge — drunks, people desperate to score, and the employees that made their bread and butter trying to tame the other two.

Dean Winchester, unfortunately, was a member of that third group. Oh, sure, Dean had been known to put away a fair bunch of liquor in his day, and sure, Dean had definitely been known to do the Bedroom Rodeo whenever the opportunity presented itself. Hell, back when he’d first started at the Starlight he’d often been three types at once. Work, drink, get laid. Sometimes, not even in that order.

But that was past Dean. Current and newly mature Dean (hah) just wanted to work, go home, eat and fall into his bed. Working at the Starlight wasn’t that bad – it had fairly decent pay and it was often interesting. And like everyone else, Dean had bills to pay and he gave more than his fair share to Sammy. Not that Sam really needed it anymore; he was busy working as a law clerk downtown, putting himself through school. But still, Dean wanted to help as much as he could and besides it was his brotherly duty. Heh. Duty.

Tonight, due to the cold and rainy weather, the bar was fairly empty and business had been slow. There was only one of his regulars, a writer by the name of Chuck crying into his notebooks at the back of the bar. To be honest, Dean had never seen Chuck write a damn thing but the man sure could put scotch away like a pro.  There was also a young couple making out in one of the booths near the restrooms. He’d been keeping an eye on them most of the night, actually, making sure no one lost any clothing. The Starlight didn’t need a public indecency charge on the books. At least, not so soon since the last one, at any rate. 

Dean yawned and finished cleaning up the bar, hoping Chuck and the couple on their way to Soft-Porn Town would soon be leaving. Maybe Dean could even push them on their way a bit early, so he could get home at a decent time, for once.  As he walked over towards Chuck to perhaps lightly suggest the writer hit the road, the double doors of the bar blew open – bringing in the rain, the cold rush of the wind and a new customer in a beige trench coat with seriously fucked up hair. Great.

Dean sighed and turned back around as the new guy slumped onto the first stool at the bar. His dark brown, messed up hair looked even worse up close, and he had a scowl on his face as he glared down at the bar in front of him.

“Whiskey. Neat,” Messy-Hair said, voice low and very rumbly.

Dean pulled down a clean glass and poured some of their nicer whiskey into it. Dude looks like he could afford it, at any rate. He had a nice suit on under the coat, now that Dean could properly see it and his watch was one of those big clunky things that could probably tell the time on Jupiter or some shit like that. The man’s hand reaches for the glass before Dean has barely pushed it forward. He throws back the drink in record time and hits the bar with it so that it makes a loud thunk.

“Another one.”

Dean shrugged as the man kept glaring down at the bar as though it contained all the answers to life and everything else; Dean knew for a fact that it didn’t. It didn’t even have a ‘42’ scratched into it or anything. (RIP Douglas Adams)

This time the man just wraps his hand around the glass, his fingers clutching at it and woah, Dean thinks, dude’s got some huge fucking hands. They’re big and they’re strong looking. The fingers are nice and long and graceful and oh, oh, oh. Maybe it’s a kink, or maybe it’s a preference, but Dean loves hands. Manly looking mitts like Messy-Hair here and even smaller, more delicate hands like on most women, with pretty nail colors. But Dean’s not choosy.

He sees motion out of the corner of his eye and notices Chuck signaling that he’d like to pay up. Glancing at Messy-Hair he figures he has a few minutes before having to pour him another so he sets the bottle down and heads over to the other side.

“All right there, Chuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Dean.”

The older man is flipping through his wallet and counting out his cash slowly. Dean wipes the bar and puts Chuck’s last glass into the bucket for later cleaning.

“Write anything tonight?” Dean always asks this question. It’s like a little game he and Chuck play because it always has the same answer.

“No,” Chuck says looking up at him. He places his finger to his temple solemnly, almost like he’s holding a gun. “But I did a lot of work up here.”

He always gives Dean this look as though Dean should know exactly what he’s talking about. But, of course, Dean never does. He likes to read but he sure as hell would never attempt to write. Personally, he thinks Chuck is sort of crazy, but hey, to each their own, right?

Chuck pushes his notebooks into his old canvas bag on the bar. It’s bulging with everything he carries with him and looks fit to burst. Dean supposes that writer’s block is heavy business.

Chucks nods goodnight as he slips his bag over his shoulders, buckling a bit under the weight. Dean watches as he wobbles away and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the bag. He’d normally be worried (hey, no bar can stay in business if all its clientele got themselves killed), but he knows Chuck lives nearby. He’ll be all right and probably in his same spot tomorrow evening. He puts Chuck’s money into the till and realizes he tipped Dean more than usual. He really did have had a good night, then.

He notices the couple trying to break the world record for smooches in a single night are getting up and putting on their jackets. Maybe Dean can get out early; he’s got the DVR set for Dr Sexy already, but he wouldn’t say no to catching it live for once.

Glancing over he sees Messy-Hair is now resting his head on the bar, but he lifts it as the doors bang shut behind Chuck, the cold burst of wind making his hair looking even more disheveled. Dean heads back over to see if he needs a refill and is suddenly struck dumb by the other man finally looking at him. Holy Mother of Blue, those are some eyes. The dude is handsome. Like old-time movie handsome. Strong jaw, with a smattering of scruff, pink soft lips and eyes that look like they can see into your soul, no, scratch that, not see, but pierce. Dean swallows roughly and picks up the whiskey bottle. 

“Hey, uh, it’s getting late. One more for the road?” Dean assumes the dude doesn’t know the Starlight is technically open until midnight. Assumes, hah. More like prays.

Blue-Eyes stares at him and frowns. “I thought this establishment closed at midnight.”

“Er, yeah. I suppose it does.”

“Then I’ll take another,” Blue-Eyes pauses and holds out his glass. “And keep them coming for the next forty-five minutes, barkeep.”

Dean blinks at the old-fashioned word and pours another round. They stare at each other until he hears a giggle and a clearing of a throat. He looks over to see the couple and wonders how long they’ve been waiting. Judging from the churlish look on the guy’s face and the barely contained laughter emanating from the girl, it’s been awhile. He settles their tab and takes their money (lousy tip, of course) as the two saunter past Blue-Eyes and escape out into the night. Well, at least Dean can see it’s stopped raining.

Making up his mind, he follows them from behind the bar and locks the door after them. He flips off the sign, too. He may be stuck here with Blue-Eyes, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let someone else come meandering in to make him get home even later.

He comes back to stand in front of his customer and makes a decision. Pulling down another glass, he pours some of the whiskey into it and sighs as the warmth of it hits his system. What do they always say about good whiskey? It should warm the cockles of the heart, or something like that. Not that Dean actually knows what a cockle is, but hey, it went down smooth.

He realizes Blue-Eyes is watching him and Dean decides to bite the bullet. He’s tired, bored and probably on his way to cranky town if Blue-Eyes keeps his word about the next forty-five minutes.

“So, what brings you out on a cold and rainy night like tonight, Mr, uh…what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

The other man squints and tilts his head at Dean like a tiny, confused bird. And no, Dean doesn’t find that adorable at all. Nope.

“What have you been calling me in your head?”

Dean purses his lips. Sometimes he’s really an idiot. He gives Blue-Eyes a shaky laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna keeping doing that.”

They stare at each other again, neither one budging until Blue-Eyes releases a breath and blinks, shoulders slumping a bit more. By the end of the night Dean expects this guy to be melted into the floor.

“Cas.”

Dean frowns. “Your name is Mr Cas?”

“No, just Cas.” Blue-Eyes, no, scratch that, Cas then holds out his hand so Dean can shake it like they’re fellow professionals meeting at a party or something. As he grips the other man’s hand in his own he realizes Cas’s hand is warm, dry, and, yep, strong. The dude is seriously ticking all of Dean’s boxes without even trying. It’s a bit unnerving, really.

“Is that short for something?” Dean asks, wondering what type of name that is.

Cas just looks at him over the rim of his glass. “Perhaps.”

Neither of them say anything else for a long moment and Dean shakes his head. “People ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Yes. All the time,” Cas says with a smirk.

Dean laughs. “Well, whatever. It’s officially nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean. Humble and professional barkeep at your service.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas’s voice is deep but there’s a warmth to it that makes Dean happy.  They chit-chat for a bit, just like Dean would do with any newbie to the bar. He pours them both another round and then tries his question again.

“So, you seemed a bit upset earlier. What brought you through my doors, Cas?”

Cas sighs and glances away. He taps his fingers lightly on the polished wood of the bar. He stares at Dean as though assessing him and then looks as though he’s made up his mind.

“My…er, the person I’ve been dating, dumped me tonight. We went to an expensive restaurant and ordered far too pricey food for the serving size and drank outrageously fancy wine. Then they ordered an expensive bottle of cognac, drank it all and then told me I wasn’t worth it.”

Dean winces. “Ouch. How long were you together?”

“Six months.”

“Well, it’s not too long for a relationship, but it’s long enough to hurt.”

Cas nods, looking sullen again.

“What special occasion was it?”

Cas stares at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Fancy restaurant, the way you’re dressed, the cognac. Nobody orders that unless there’s been a birth or an anniversary or both.”

“It was my birthday,” Cas says, looking down again.

“Fuck,” Dean blurts out without thinking. “And they dumped you? Seriously bad juju, man.”

Cas nods and takes another drink of his whiskey, looking miserable. Dean tops off both of their glasses and hums.

“What was his name?”

Cas whips his head up, suddenly looking confused and more than a little worried. “I never said it was a he.”

“It was your distinct lack of pronouns, dude. Always the dead giveaway. Trust me, as a guy who plays for both sides, I know. Pronouns are key. Hey, relax, Cas, this is a safe space.” Dean points to the small pride flag he keeps above the bar and watches as Cas visibly relaxes.

The silence that falls between them is comfortable now. Welcoming, even. Cas clears his throat and rests his hand on his chin, peering at Dean.

“So…you’re bi, I assume or, pan, perhaps?”

“Got it in one. Just another bisexual loser ruining the world one lay at a time.”

Dean winks to show he’s only kidding. He’s proud to be bi, but it doesn’t mean he can’t make a joke at his own expense. Of course, if Sam or his friend Charlie were here they’d both tell him what they thought of that.

“His name was Bartholomew.”

Dean snorts. “It fits him. Douche-y name for a douche-canoe.”

Cas barks out a laugh and it completely changes his face into something truly beautiful. Dean suddenly feels the need to always make Cas laugh like that. He can’t imagine anyone not wanting to – his laugh is infectious. And the light it puts in his eyes is irresistible.

Cas looks serious again as he swirls the rest of the whiskey in his glass. “To be honest, Bart was just the last in a long line of failed…connections. I’m doubting my own self-worth at this point. Everyone ends up leaving or they get fed up with me. I’m too introverted…too socially awkward to deal with, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing okay right now.”

“I’ve been drinking,” Cas says, deadpan. “And also I’m paying you.”

Dean chuckles. “Not really, I decided to stop charging you as soon as I poured my first one.”

“Your hospitality know no bounds. Truly.”

Dean laughs. Cas’s dry delivery and poker-faced expressions really are the limit. He feels that familiar warmth he always gets when he meets someone new. A someone new that excites him. But he pushes the feeling aside because he knows on some level that trying to get into Cas’s pants is so not what the other man needs right now. Dean shivers as he realizes how damn mature that sounds. Next he’ll be looking into 401ks and cemetery plots.

“Well, consider them birthday drinks. Of course, this stuff doesn’t cost a small fortune or anything, but I figured you’d already paid out enough tonight.”

Cas smirks and shakes his head at Dean. “Thank you, Dean. It’s actually very kind of you to…take pity on me.”

He says it jokingly but Dean gets the sense that he means it. He reaches forward and touches Cas’s hand.

“Hey, no pity here. You are ridiculously attractive and if I didn’t have a conscience, I’d definitely be throwing out my best lines here to help you relieve some tension, if you know what I mean. And you are not awkward to me, but even if you were, it wouldn’t be enough to stop me from asking for your number or seeing if you wanted to meet up sometime. I barely know you but you seem like a decent guy, Cas. And I think all of those people that don’t get you can just fuck right off. You need to keep trying, man. Don’t give up just because a few losers couldn’t see what they had.”

Cas blinks at Dean, blue eyes getting huge. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?”

Dean thinks back. Did he say that? Yeah, he said that. Figures that would be the only thing to register with the dude.

“What sort of line would you use on me? I mean, if you were going to, that is.” Cas shyly glances away and then back, a curious look on his face.

“Oh, uh, probably something like, well you know what they say — the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks, faking a leer.

“I’m not sure that would work with me,” Cas says, mirth clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’d make me work for it, I know. But seriously, you need to regroup, clear out the douche-canoes from your life and find a new guy, man.”

Cas smiles at him in fondness, and nope, Dean is not going to do it. He will not break his rule about dating people just out of relationships. Not even for big huge blue eyes that make him feel sappy like a love song. Cas, however, clearly has other plans.

“This may be forward but, um, Dean would you allow me take you out for dinner? As a date, in case you were wondering how I meant it.”

“Oh, wow, Cas, um, I mean…”

Cas’s face takes an interesting journey in two seconds – from hopeful joy to miserable and wretched. Dean feels his heart break a little bit for him in that moment and mentally kicks his own ass for being a tool.

“Oh, I see. I…I’m sorry, Dean. Thank you for hospitality.” Cas fumbles with his wallet and places far too much money next to his glass. “I won’t keep you anymore. Go home and enjoy whatever is left of your night.”

Dean watches dumbly as Cas sits up straighter and then turns in his seat, his broad shoulders unyielding, suddenly. Dean knows he just can’t let it end like this.

“No, wait, Cas!”

Dean practically flings himself around the bar to reach Cas before he can unlock the door and leave without a backwards glance. He rests his hand on Cas’s shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s only because I have a rule about dating people that just got out of a relationship. It has nothing to do with you, I promise you. You need to focus on you, dude. Figure out what you’re looking for. If this one was just the last in a long line of guys who don’t understand you, try and see what people you’re going for. I mean, I’m no expert, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of jumping before looking moments, but I think you just need some Cas time right now, you know? If we ever start something I do not want to be rebound guy and you deserve something better than a one night stand.”

Cas stares at him, blue eyes half in shadow.  Dean holds his breath, hoping he didn’t just lose something. All he can hear is the clock ticking behind him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“That was quite the speech,” Cas finally says. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Cas, man. You have no idea.”

“I have some, like I said, a long line of rejections. Still…”  Cas’s eyes search his face and then nods to himself. “Maybe you’re right. I do tend to do things without thinking in this area of life despite being very practical usually. And you’re also right on anther point, Dean. You do not deserve to be “rebound guy”.”

Dean can’t help his grin as Cas makes the quotes motion with his fingers. They stare at each other for a bit longer before he unlocks the door. Cas steps out as the cold air filters in between them, causing them bother to shiver. Dean pauses, and then holds out his hand. “Let me have your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, you have one, right? Or have you moved on to something flashier like sky writing?”

Cas snorts and shakes his head. He fumbles in his pockets and then pulls out a slim, black smartphone. He unlocks it and hands it over. Of course, it’d be that kind of phone that can help you bake bread or turn off all the lights in the world with just a click or something. He finally finds what he’s looking for and puts his contact information in.

“There. There’s my number. Text me to let me know you get home, okay? And as for the rest, we’ll take it one day at a time, Cas. Let’s be friends, first.”

Cas smiles shyly as he looks down at his phone and nods. “Friends, first. I like that. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, buddy. Be safe.”

Cas slips out and away, leaving a coldness in his wake as he takes his body heat with him. Dean watches him go, the black of the night almost swallowing him up. Cas pauses to pull his coat tighter, the glow of the streetlight lighting up his profile. To Dean he looks pure—angelic, almost, like a painting or a sculpture. With one last look at Dean, he eventually fades away, disappearing back into the world. Soon all Dean can see is his own breath in the air and the twinkling starlight from the surprisingly clear sky above. He locks up again and finishes his routine for the night. After he’s put the money in the safe and headed out back to his car, he feels happy inside. Like something good just occurred — like some new path has been cleared for him to travel. His drive home is quick and easy, there’s hardly any traffic mostly due to the earlier rain. It’s just as he’s pulling into his driveway that he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s from an unknown number and his heart beats faster as he reads the message.

From unknown: I arrived home safely, Dean. Thank you, again. Would you like to get coffee tomorrow, or, perhaps I should say, later today? Oh, this is Cas, by the way. In case you didn’t know. :)

Dean saves the number and then returns to the message to reply, a grin creeping onto his face before he even realizes it.

Dean: Of course, dude. Coffee sounds great. Around 1pm?

Cas: Perfect. Do you know the Blue Java Café on Marion and Elm? It’s across from the park and one of my favorite places.

Dean: Sounds good. Can’t wait to talk to you sober, ya lush… (lol j/k hah) 

Cas sends him a sticking-tongue-out emoji as a response and Dean chuckles as he locks up his car. He has a nice, happy feeling in his heart as he thinks of Cas. Like maybe this is something special. Or maybe it’s just that it could be and has the potential to be. He knows he told Cas friends first, but Dean’s willing to see where it…where they, can go.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Okay, a good amount of time has passed, and after having seen this post by @weretiger-be-my-horse , I've been turning it over and over in my brain going absolutely feral over this concept. I need to expand upon my thoughts on this idea and all the evidence there is pointing towards it, whether that be actual tangible things, or purely strong vibes I have.

First of all, full disclaimer: I did not like the season 5 finale, and how it wrapped up the DoA arc. To say that I "disliked" it is putting it extremely lightly, in fact -- I absolutely hated it, and I am still, to a degree, in disbelief that I actually even watched those 24 minutes with my own two eyes, and that it somehow wasn't a complete fever dream. While I'm not going to go in long-winded detail into all the ways that I feel like the finale almost completely bastardized all of its featured characters and destroyed any and all buildup we've had going on in this arc for 50 some chapters now, because that's not the main point of this post, I will not make any attempt to hide the fact that the theory-crafting I'm about to pose here is partly influenced and prompted by how much I hated the finale, and how much I desperately hope that it will not end up being manga canon. Therefore, if you enjoyed the finale — and that's fine! — and don't want to read any negativity about it, then I would not recommend reading any further (I mean, you've probably already left by this point, which is fair lol), While obviously it's important that I be as objective and unbiased as possible when explaining my thoughts, some of my negative feelings about the writing will be a part of this analysis, even if this isn't going to be a full-blown rant. Just know that if you proceed.

With that out of the way, let me continue.

So. In the aforementioned post, the theory presented is that the anime may be operating on an alternate timeline, and that this will become evident once we read the upcoming October chapter, wherein things will go completely differently post-chapter 110 than they do in the final episode — probably for the worse, with the s5 finale intending to lull us into a false sense of security and make us assume that everything in the manga arc finale will wrap up as smoothly and consequence-freely(? lol) as it did in the anime one. It also suggests that the Fukuchi we see at the very end that sskk are fighting came from the manga timeline, where he won, and that he used the Book to jump to a timeline where he lost, the anime one, proven by the fact that this Fukuchi is wearing a mask with the same design on it as the mask Fukuchi is wearing on the chapter 110 DoA color spread/title page.

First of all, I want to note the fact that it's not just the mask design that's the same: the entire outfit is roughly more or less the same as well. It's not completely 1-to-1, because the anime can never fully match the intricacies of Harukawa's beautiful outfit designs, and the Fukuchi in this scene has the kimono half-off because of the... super saiyan mode he's in, but most all of the main pieces of clothing are there. Any small inaccuracies could also be attributed to the fact that Harukawa probably didn't have this finalized art ready back when this episode was being made, so the animators wouldn't have had the complete design to work off of. But in general, because it's all so similar, I think we can quite confidently say that the ending episode Fukuchi is meant to be the one from this manga art.

Also, people have pointed this out, but it's worth mentioning that the mask Asagiri wore at Anime Expo in July was referencing this Fukuchi. It's not a crucial detail, but it just proves more that Asagiri is a gigantic fucking troll, and that he clearly wanted to draw attention to this Fukuchi design. It's important. He describes the mask here as made in the motif of an ellipses inside a speech bubble... could that perhaps be referencing meta aspects, like the Book?

Next, I want to talk about the even bigger elephant in the room, which to me is the most damning and undeniable piece of evidence there is of the anime operating on a completely separate timeline from the manga:

This Fucking Hand™️

As we all know, in the anime, Fyodor injures his hand when the password input device blows up, and as we all know, this does not happen in the manga. In the last episode, Dazai claims that the final nail in the coffin of his impromptu plan to kill Fyodor relied on this hand injury: because Fyodor couldn't pilot his escape helicopter himself, he would ask one of his Meursault vampires to do it for him, unaware that Bram and thus this vampire was now on the ADA's side, and said vampire could kill him while his guard was down.

Ignoring how utterly stupid and contrived this plan is when you stop and think about it for more than two seconds, the fact of the matter is that something that initially seemed like nothing more than an odd but inconsequential anime original addition ended up snowballing into being the entire reason one of the big bads was brought down. If Fyodor hadn't hurt his hand, he wouldn't have needed another pilot, and so the traitor vampire wouldn't have had an opportunity to get near him and kill him without him expecting it even though said vampire was presumably with him as they were leaving Meursault, and was probably already a traitor by then, so there was plenty opportunity for him to still die. not to mention by Chuuya's hands at literally any time he wanted to, because Chuuya was coherent the whole time. Also there's absolutely no way Dazai could have known exactly what Ranpo would do, no matter how smart he is and how much he trusts him. idk it's fucking dumb, just roll with it. Therefore, putting aside all other variables for now, we can conclude that, on the most basic level, this signifies that no hand wound = no death.

And let me tell you, this hand wound bothers me. It really, really does. Because they focus on it a LOT — they go out of their way to draw attention to it MULTIPLE TIMES, from the moment it first happens to the end of the season. Fyodor even talks about it to himself, about Dazai being able to cause him tangible, visible, bodily harm, (something that, again, as far as we've seen, has never happened in the manga). Hell, even after Fyodor's death, they're still drawing attention to it, because his right arm is all of him that survives, and Dazai picks it up and gives it to Nikolai to do his hilarious sad little gay fondling of it played completely straight even though there's nothing straight going on here at all! It's like it's a big red flashing sign at all times going "you see this injured hand? This is important. Are you picking up that it's important? Are you taking note of it?" Why is that? Obviously, it serves to give us the lore crumbs about Fyodor and "that man", but that's hardly the main, much more glaring reason, as I've already mentioned.

Fyodor doesn't hurt his hand in the manga. Fyodor won't die here in the manga. I am so dead serious by this point about this, and it's not just simply the fact that this was absolutely not at all the time for him to die, or the fact that his hand is the reason for his death in the anime in and of itself, but how much EMPHASIS they place on this, and on the hand in general. What would be the point of adding something like this, if it's not meant to alert us to the fact that it has a major impact on how the story plays out? We all know Bones: they struggle to get right and include everything that's already there in the source material; they would never go out of their way to add something this noteworthy if there wasn't a very good reason for it, if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I've seen a few people bring up the fact that Fyodor gets shot in the shoulder by Sigma and that that could lead to the same outcome in the manga, but I disagree: although he has blood on his shoulder in the manga, it seems like the bullet just grazed the top of it, because his arm and hand appears completely functional afterwards (not hanging limp by his side or anything). But that doesn't even matter, because this isn't even about the semantics/logistics of how the hand wound caused Fyodor's death because again, it's a stupid outcome, or what could serve as a substitute in the manga — thematically, this is a textbook example of the butterfly effect. Countless parallel universes exist within this series, ones where even the most minute differences lead to a majorly different outcome: this just happens to be one of them. There's no reason to think it isn't, and there's no reason to not think that the anime wants us to clue into the fact that things only went as smoothly as they did on the Meursault side because of this wound; in other words, that things will go very differently in the manga thanks to the absence of said wound. They wouldn't have added it in the first place and put such clearly deliberate emphasis on it otherwise.

Things are going to happen very differently in the manga, at least when it comes to the Meursault crew (but then, if you assume that, you then naturally assume it all will be very different). This is the only conclusion one can come to with the presentation of this anime-only wound, combined with the fact that parallel universes are a very real thing in BSD.

I'm going to go on a bit of a tangent, so bear with me. I play a lot of visual novels, and although such concepts aren't really as original now as they were a while ago, some of my favorite and some of the very best VNs out there are the ones that break the fourth wall and make the visual novel branching route format directly intertwined with the story: you know, the ones where the characters go "if only I had done things differently, maybe everything would have turned out better...!" in a wink wink nudge nudge moment, and the ones where the characters are aware of the different timelines, even, or even have the ability to gain information from their selves in said alternate timelines to influence events in their current one (I'm intentionally not naming the games I'm thinking of for the sake of spoilers, but if you know, you know lmao). It gets very meta in this regard, and this is how I started viewing BSD through the lens of ever since I first learned about Beast: like a visual novel with many branching routes, and only a few routes that feel entirely "right".

When I first read Dazai's Entrance Exam, I was struck by how unnerving the ending sequence in the abandoned hospital felt. Obviously, Kunikida's internal struggle over Sasaki's actions and motives is him still desperately clinging to his ideal world that does not exist, but the specific type of phrases he uses — "who is wrong?" "[who is] the cause of all this?" "there has to be an ideal world" "there has to be something, I'm sure of it" "There must have been something we could have done!" — and the framing of the scene in general, is eerily reminiscent of a bad ending in a visual novel, to me. There's a haunting, looming, bleak sense that a different outcome could have been achieved, if different decisions had been made, or if things outside of anyone's control had been different... and we know that this is true, because in Beast alone, Kunikida never goes through the Azure Messenger incident, because Dazai doesn't have his entrance exam. Hell, you could even consider the anime's version of the Azure Messenger arc an alternate timeline in of itself, if you really wanted to, long before we even arrive at season 5.

When it comes to Beast, this timeline has almost the opposite feeling of what I described above, that I've also encountered in visual novels: the idea of a "good route" or "good ending" that still doesn't feel quite earned, or as perfect as one would expect. Beast is presented as the "ideal" timeline purely for one sole reason: Oda is alive. It is the only timeline where he's alive, and keeping Oda alive is the ultimate goal Dazai wants to achieve, the only reason this timeline exists; therefore, disregarding all else, Beast should be the best timeline, because Oda's death is the greatest devastation in the series to date. We all want him to live, so why wouldn't the timeline where he does be the best one? And yet... of course, it isn't. Dazai is alone, and steeped in darkness and loneliness without Oda, and dies by the end of the story for Oda's continued living. Atsushi has Kyouka still, but he's suffering and more traumatized, and unable to heal while stuck in the mafia, and neither can Kyouka. Akutagawa is living a much better life in the ADA... but without his sister, and without what he has from his bond with Atsushi in canon, that isn't replicated in Beast. And Oda... Oda is alive, and he has his children and his novel, but there is a feeling that he is aimless, that something in his life is missing. He has everything he ever wanted, but all that means nothing without what he truly needs: Dazai, and his time with Dazai and Ango at the bar. In this way, things going well and us getting what we want — in this case, Oda living — goes against how it's supposed to be, the natural order, which is why it feels so hollow. In the specific visual novel I'm thinking of here as a comparison (again, shoutout if you know), there's an alternate ending that involves you inputting information you gain at the end of the game very early on in the game, wherein the protagonist now has memories of the future and is able to bypass and prevent all of the events that take place normally. This means that people who die or are hurt somehow in general are saved from that fate, and nothing bad ever occurs; everything wraps up neatly and nicely... but again, there's an undeniable, unsettling feeling of emptiness, of a victory that rings hollow, because what's the point if everything is simply handed to you easily, where's the sense of accomplishment, without any struggles to achieve said victories, or any growth along the way? How can it feel earned if one doesn't have to, in Dazai's words, "scream within the storm of uncertainty, and run with flowing blood"?

You can probably already see where I'm going with this.

This finale feels weird. Really, really weird. It feels too cheap, too simple, too unsatisfying. So much so, in fact, that for almost the entire runtime, as I was bombarded with resolution upon resolution one after another, I kept thinking "There's no way this can be real. Where's the catch? When is the "gotcha!" moment gonna happen? The "it was all a dream" reveal?". And this isn't just because I hated the writing, and that it really did feel like a fever dream watching fanfic levels of bad (actually, that's an insult to fanfic writers, tbh; they could do better) — no, it genuinely feels so incredibly fake. Even upon rewatching it and already knowing what happens, my brain still naturally keeps expecting some kinda of "sike, you THOUGHT!" moment to suddenly appear. It just.... feels "too good to be true". Dazai and Chuuya come out unscathed, and it's revealed that they were never in any real danger to begin with. Fyodor, one of our biggest threats, is dealt with supposedly for good (I say "supposedly" only because of the Jesus line, but if anything imo, I think that's just a hint that this won't be the canon ending in the manga, so in a sense he's going to "come back to life"), and Nikolai seems somewhat at peace with his death. The other biggest threat, Fukuchi, is also dealt with, and he and Fukuzawa get their final moment together of closure. Yes, Sigma is left in Meursault don't even get me started on how angry this alone makes me, and Fukuzawa loses Fukuchi, but overall, everything is portrayed in a positive light, and any negatives or losses are quickly glossed over. Everything is tied up nicely, neatly, and smoothly. ...And that is exactly what makes it feel so wrong, and hard to trust in.

I'm not sure if this will make sense, but to me, the finale is so incredibly poorly written that it almost feels.... intentional. It's so bad to the point of feeling self-aware in how bad it is, how unrealistically happy and convenient an ending it is. It had to end this neatly in order to rush to wrap up this arc for the season finale and not leave the last episode on a cliffhanger — which imo is chiefly the main reason it turned out this way, and, if this whole theory is true, Asagiri just used it to his advantage — and I'm not saying this was probably an effect Bones had in mind intentionally, I'm sure they just threw shit at the wall and went with whatever stuck, maaaaybe with some suggestions/approval from Asagiri, but the result is that you have a conclusion that contradicts so much of what was set up before and goes against so many character arcs, making some characters so out of character and even regressing in their development Dazai. I'm talking about Dazai abandoning Sigma, because he would never; hashtag #NOTMYDAZAI. Also Nikolai, Nikolai for most of that is so ooc I can't even begin to describe it oh my god. Everyone is OOC to a degree though lmao, and opens so many plot holes, to the point that it's impossible not to watch all that and get the feeling that it is subtly saying to you "did you really think it could be this easy? It feels wrong, doesn't it? It doesn't feel satisfying. It feels unearned." I find it incredibly interesting and suspicious in particular that they confirmed multiple theories people had about soukoku in Meursault: that Chuuya slowed the elevator's fall so that Dazai wouldn't die from it, that Chuuya slowed down the bullet so that it only penetrated Dazai's skin and not his skull, and that the both of them used Fyodor's camera angle to their advantage because they knew he wouldn't be able to see certain things from his view. I'm not saying that Asagiri trawled BSD twitter and tumblr after those chapters dropped for the most popular theories before the final episode was made lmao, there was no time for that (imagine though lol—), but I do think it's highly likely that he already had in mind exactly what theories would be made about these parts (I mean, the evidence for the gun scene was all there), and that Dazai rattling them off in his long monologue to Fyodor at the end is essentially him speaking to the audience and going "yeah, that's what you would predict, right? Those are the clichés, after all", much like him suggesting earlier that he can maybe bring Chuuya back to himself with a few moving words and the power of friendship, and Fyodor using the split personalities trope to fool Sigma. We expect these tropes to be true. Of course we'd fall for them, as Fyodor tells Sigma, especially if the evidence is right there. But Asagiri himself has explicitly said that he likes doing the opposite of what people expect. And so just because people predicted correctly with the three things I mentioned in this timeline... doesn't mean they'll be true in the manga's. Things happened how we wanted and expected it to, and everything turned out happily. So we can relax now, right? Everything will work out just as easily in the manga, right? Or... is the reason most of this finale feels so fake and unsettling and unsatisfying because it's meant to lull us into a false sense of security before all our heroes lose in the manga? Because deep down, we don't want an ending that's this simple, because we'd rather have a conclusion where our characters have struggled more and grown more and come out the better for it, and we know it?

After rewatching the episode a lot, and watching some other videos, and doing a lot of thinking, I am pretty confident in suspecting that the only part of this finale that is actually from manga canon, aside from Aya jumping off the building of course, is Fyodor and Nikolai's exchange after Fyodor leaves Meursault — specifically, them talking about Fyodor leaving Sigma behind, and their "new game" and Nikolai being excited at the prospect of it. This little conversation actually feels in character for them, and it's easy to tell this when contrasting it with everything that happens immediately after, wherein Fyodor is fatally stabbed, and Nikolai, completely at odds with what he was just talking about, just... stands there and watches Fyodor die while Dazai monologues lmao. I'm not sure if the helicopter is still a factor, but I would bet good money on Fyolai getting out of Meursault being manga canon, and that Dazai and Chuuya getting out as well and killing Fyodor + everything with FukuFuku, is part of the anime original ending, in order to wrap up everything positively. It makes much more sense if you think about, in reality (aka in the manga), Dazai and Chuuya still being left behind in Meursault (where they can eventually try to get Sigma), because none of it was an act and things did not go according to plan, and Fukuchi having an entirely different goal that doesn't feel so stupid and contradictory to his character, and Fukuzawa possibly dying — everyone seemingly loses, with Aya still being the last hope, perhaps by awakening her ability like we all speculated.

There's a youtuber I watch who covers BSD in-depth, despite being an anime-only (she reads the respective manga content after each season, though). Going into this finale, she knew about the fact that the anime had overtaken the manga, though she didn't know where the cutoff point was; despite that, however, she made predictions about what was from the manga so far and what was anime original, and it was almost entirely spot-on, based mostly on what she basically described as "anime original dialogue." She talked about how you can always tell when dialogue is veering into the realm of anime-original, because the sentences are very short, choppy, and slightly out of character, but generic enough to not be TOO out of character, and so that anyone can easily write said lines, even if they're not extremely familiar with the character like the original author would be. And when I heard this explanation, everything clicked — because so much of this finale has dialogue like that. The Fyolai scenes just feel peppered with it, around the lines I mentioned earlier, the Dazai dialogue does too, and ESPECIALLY shit at the end like Fukuchi and Fukuzawa exchanging the cliche death lines to end all death lines: "Are you there? I'm a little tired." "Rest up." That just isn't Bungou Stray Dogs. That isn't Asagiri. BSD is cheesy at times, yes, but it isn't like this; it's smarter. The dialogue is smarter, the explanations/plot twists are smarter, Asagiri is smarter, and the aforementioned youtuber I watched agreed. She's a pretty casual fan of the series, so if even she could pick up on these things, I think it speaks volumes.

I mentioned this briefly earlier, but this theory makes sense if you consider that this situation probably came about because of Bones wanting two seasons back-to-back when they did, and this arc being as long as it is. Season 3 aired in 2019, and I imagine Bones would have wanted season 4 in 2020, and might have then been willing to wait a bit longer for season 5 in order for more of this arc's manga chapters to come out — but then covid happened. Because of that, season 4 was delayed to 2023, creating the longest gap we've had between seasons, and I wouldn't at all be surprised if the delay made them want season 5 right together with it, after getting so far "behind", so to speak. S4 was announced in November of 2021, and roughly around that time, Asagiri was finishing up writing the plot of the DoA arc. If Bones came to him sometime in late 2021 and said they wanted two seasons now (so basically, one giant two cour season), Asagiri would know that not only of course would this arc not be finished publishing in the manga for a very long time yet, but that roughly 20ish episodes would not be enough to cover it all to the end, with this arc being longer than any arc the anime has adapted to date. Because of all this, and the arc manga chapters being nowhere near fully drawn to completion, he'd have to make a decision about what to do, and what to give Bones. Without ending season 5 on a massive cliffhanger that wouldn't be resolved for years until an eventual season 6, the only other option would be to rush towards an anime-original ending for the DoA arc.... and for Asagiri to take advantage of that, and integrate it into BSD's lore. Thereby creating a truly unique cross-media experience that utilizes the different mediums to create multiple timelines, that could make both the anime and manga interact with each other and become part of a bigger picture (not that you'd need to see both to get the full experience, mind you, just that it'd provide a little bonus if you did).... and would without a doubt be Asagiri's biggest surprise yet.

...I feel like at this point I'm starting to ramble, and my evidence become more and more incoherent and less substantial lmao, so I should probably end this post. 💀 Thank you if you've read this far, and hopefully it made some semblance of sense, despite not being structured very well; I know I promised at the start to try to be as objective as possible and curb my negative feelings, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that regard. If it weren't for the Fukuchi thing and the Fyodor hand thing, I probably wouldn't take how wrong and strange and bad the finale feels to me as serious evidence about it being an alternate timeline, especially since I seem to be one of the only people who actually hates all of it.... but combined with everything else, I am just so convinced of this theory being true. It started off as pure copium, but as more time has gone on, I fully, 100% believe in my bones (ha) that there is no way that finale is the same Bungou Stray Dogs I know and love, for so many reasons. It just isn't. It can't be. I know BSD better than this, I know Asagiri better than this, and I know that it's absolutely in the realm of possibility for him to cook up this whole scheme to completely blindside us with in the upcoming chapters, because that's exactly the kind of shit Mr. "Please Be Surprised!" himself would pull. If I end up being completely wrong, I guess I'm wrong, and you can laugh at me all you want then.... but I just know that ages ago people were teasing the idea of the anime operating on a different timeline from the manga, and I truly do think that only now are we finally seeing that idea come to fruition, as a setup for Asagiri going full-bore insanity with the Book in the upcoming arc(s). if I and the OP of that theory end up right, this will be the wildest time in the BSD fandom's history.

Like. I cannot even emphasize how hard they are trolling us at this point. Something is going on. Something is being cooked over there, the likes of which we've never seen before... and I don't think any of us are ready for it.

Oh yeah, and one last thing of note: both Fyodor and Nikolai here have their right arms hidden from view. Is that alluding to anything? I'm not sure. I also think that since chapter 110 was so short, next chapter will likely be 110.5 instead of 111, and if that's the case, this title spread could still technically be associated with the next chapter... wherein we might see this Fukuchi, who ends up wreaking havoc, right before he jumps to the timeline in the anime, as we see him at the end of the s5 finale.

I guess we'll find out on Tuesday.

[wheredafandomat]

The Royal Ruse 👑

Prince! Loki x Asgardian reader

18+ | not sure of the warnings for this chap? I don’t think there are any new ones other than I wrote this half asleep at 3am so if it doesn’t make sense sorry, let me know

Chapter 6

You grew merrier and merrier the further the night drew on. As well as accepting congratulations, you accepted plenty of mead as well as over half a dozen dances, none feeling like the one with Loki felt. Your gazes lingered on one another as you conversed with others, occasionally sharing a dance. You wondered if he was only looking at you in order to draw information about you out of your mind considering that you felt him rummaging through it, however there were times you caught one another’s eye without the feeling. Nonetheless, conversations began with Loki’s told me so much about you meaning you sold the fabrication.

By the time the ball had come to an end, you and Loki found one another’s sides again before you both headed back to his room. The journey was silent, comfortable, the two of your hands occasionally brushing against one another’s as you walked. When you finally reached, you were practically bursting at the seams to speak, knowing you no longer had to keep up a pretence.

“That was so fun.” You beamed, Loki closing the door behind you both.

“Indeed it was.” He agreed with a hint of a smile.

“And we looked so good, everyone said so.” You continued, turning to face him, only to see that his expression was vacant. “Loki?”

“Perhaps we should continue this night.” He answered, emotion returning to his face as if he was previously just lost in thought. Wordlessly, you nodded in agreement with a simper. “Care to join me for a spot of stargazing, I know the perfect place and it’s—” he began before you interrupted.

“Yes.” You gleamed.

“Right.” He grinned before opening the door again and prompting you to walk next to him.

The two of you walked through the royal gardens until you reached a clearing that had the perfect view of the stars. There was already a blanket laid out which made you think Loki had probably been here recently or that he was already planning to come here tonight with you which surprisingly made you even giddier. You both laid on it, a small space between you both as you looked up at the stars. The air was cool and still, only the distant sound of an owl hooting filling your ears. The sky was a never ending darkness only illuminated by the twinkling of stars. You both stayed like that for a while before you broke the silence.

“So, what will you do once you’re king?” You asked.

“Build a statue of myself I suppose.” Loki answered, an amused expression on his face.

“Naturally.” You laughed in agreement.

“And I want more theatre here” he continued “the midgardians have an optimistic appreciation of the arts that we here don’t share.”

“Really? I’ve never been.” You shrugged.

“Oh y/n, it’s truly wonderful there.” He spoke, glancing at you as you hummed contently. “What will you do with your riches?” He ventured.

“Perhaps visit midgard or save everything for my future children as you said.” You answered.

“Did I?”

“I believe your exact words were you’ve grown up impoverished, don’t let your children grow up the same.” You replied, mimicking his voice.

“No, they were think about your future children, they wouldn’t have to suffer like you have.” He corrected.

“So what I said then?” You laughed making Loki laugh too.

“Oh look, a shooting star.” He pointed out before you quickly turned your attention to it.

“Hurry, make a wish.” You rushed out, closing your eyes to make a wish before opening them again.

“What did you wish for?” Loki asked.

“I can’t tell you that” you insisted “or it won’t come true.”

“You don’t actually believe in all of that do you?” Loki teased.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You challenged, narrowing your gaze at him as you sat up, Loki doing the same.

“Because magic doesn’t exist in shooting stars, it exists down here, all around us” he began, picking up a leaf from the floor and covering it with his hand for a moment before unveiling a rose and handing it to you “magic exists in the palm of my hand” he continued, looking down at his palm and prompting you to do the same before fireworks began dancing in your irises.

“Wow.” You uttered.

“So tell me, y/n,” he requested, closing his palm and turning all of his attention to you “what did you wish for?”

“I wished for you to find happiness Loki, true happiness.” You answered honestly, Loki’s lips curling up into a small almost mirthless smile.

“My happiness resides on the throne, you needn't worry yourself wishing for it.” He assured dismissively.

“Well then, here’s to marrying for it.” You declared.

The two of you turned your attentions back to the diamonds glistening in the sky, your eyes eventually growing tired and closing.

“You’re snoring” Loki spoke before your eyes flew open “come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“You’ll stay?” You questioned tiredly as you stood.

“Will you wish on a shooting star if I say no?” He jested, gesturing for you to walk next to him.

The following morning, when you awoke, forgetting how you actually made it into bed, you glanced across the room at Loki who’s behind also looked good in the morning sun. Instead of turning your attentions away from his nudity, you ran your eyes across his body. His porcelain skin looked as though it was glowing, as if all the magic in Asgard resided on him, shrouding him and coating him in an ethereal shawl. You found yourself slowly running your hand against the material of his duvet, eyes focusing on his back as you imagined touching his skin. You wondered if it’d feel as soft as the duvet felt. Remembrance of the previous night flooded you as you recalled the feeling of his leg between yours. You turned your head to the side, your nose running across the pillow as you tried to inhale the scent of him, wanting the memories of last night to feel realer, more solid. Just as they began to solidify, the door knocked causing Loki to wake up as he sat up quickly. You averted your gaze just as quick, opting to just close your eyes and pretend you were asleep.

“Will you be coming to the hall to break fast or would you like food brought to you your majesty?” A chambermaid called from the other side of the door.

You gasped as you felt Loki’s hand on your shoulder as he violently shook you awake. You tried to slowly open your eyes to keep up the lie that you were asleep and waking for the first time but Loki’s naked body in front of you was making you reluctant to open them fully, suddenly shy.

“Will you be wanting breakfast here or in the dining room?” Loki asked you.

“Dining room.” You yawned, eyes half open, not wanting to shamelessly gaze at him.

“We’ll be down soon.” Loki answered the chambermaid before heading to the washroom allowing you to fully open your eyes.

Nothing to do with the fic just why is this gif so vicious 😂😂 I love it

Tags:

@lokiprompts @mischief2sarawr @lulubelle814 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @eyesbluelikethetitanic @vickie5446 @mcufan72 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @xorpsbane @sailorholly @anukulee @yukio369 @12-pm-510 @lovelysizzlingbluebird @bunny24sstuff @thenotoriouserg @newtomofgods @simping-for-marvel @a-daughter-of-poseidon @huntress-artemiss @thedistractedagglomeration @siriusly-gay @wolfsmom1 @evelyn-kingsley @tallseaweed @lokiedokiee @princess-ofthe-pages @kikster606 @gruftiela @nonsensicalobsessions

[destinysbounty]

GASP you have an “The Island” rewrite idea? TELL US EVERYTHING—

The Ninjago comics have some great ideas of other things that could have happened (like a boat race over lightning waters, a motorcycle escape from baby dragons, more on Misako’s pre-special adventures on the Island, etc.) but I’m so curious about your rewrite ideas :D

When we first got the trailer for The Island, I lowkey thought they were gonna take the "Misako goes missing and Lloyd tries to find her" premise and use it to at least briefly touch on their relationship. Which I was...cautiously optimistic for. Lord knows how badly Misako needs an actual character arc.

So that's the core of what I'd do with an Island rewrite. Use that plotline the facilitate a narrative about the past complications of their relationship, as well as Lloyd's fear of being abandoned/left alone.

For a long time, I've had this scene idea in my brain of Misako and Lloyd being lost in a labyrinthine cave full of strange glowing stone, and she explains that the reason she'd been seeking out the island is because of rumors that this very cave had the power to reveal secret information. However, the danger of the cave is that few people are ever able to leave it alive, as it traps most who enter. She reluctantly hoped the cave could tell her where she went wrong, what she did wrong - she did everything she could to prevent the Final Battle, but it happened anyway. She wanted to know if there was anything at all that she could've done to change that, or if her family was doomed from the start. This is also why Wu joined her for this expedition - he wanted those answers too.

As they walk through the cave in search of a way out, Lloyd asks more about her motives: how she knew he was the Green Ninja, why she left Lloyd at Darkleys of all places, and most importantly why she never came back for him even to visit. She explains herself, with the stones and stalagmites of the cave glowing as they reflect memories from her past. And finally, they have a little bit of closure from this conversation. It is then that they learn the cave only lets you leave once you have accepted the truth of the information you sought, hence why so few people ever escape - most people cant reconcile the harsh truths this cave confronts them with. Misako accepts that there was nothing she could have done to prevent destiny and Lloyd works through some of his abandonment issues, prompting the cave to set them free so they can go join the rest of their friends in the big climactic battle.

Idk. I may also include a scene like that in another fic or something. We'll see, I guess.

Also, I'd probably change the uh. Troublingly stereotypical human sacrifice depictions for the Keepers. And also just like, give Mamatus more of an actual character and personality. Maybe the islanders arent the villains but allies! Perhaps the rewrite focuses more so on Ronin as an antagonist - while also providing more in-character rationalization for his actions. Because while I do like the idea of Ronin as a villain, it feels a bit odd to have him go from a morally grey ally who at least sympathizes with the ninja even when he's not on their side, to a generically roguish villain. Let's dive into what prompted him to pursue such a high-scale crime!

Also, the keepers and Wojira talk may also prompt more discussion about some creation mythology and lore, Wojira's past and reign of terror before the FSM and Nyad came along, to really hammer in why they're so afraid of her. This would add some more setup for Seabound, as well as preemptively establish Wojira as a truly terrifying threat.

I can't say I have a thorough outline for what exactly the rewrite would look like, mostly just a few loose ideas here and there, but that's the general gist of what I've got so far!

[hurlingsupport]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Gender Neutral Reader Insert)

Chapter 6: Happy Birthday, Eddie!

<- Previous Next ->

Flies buzz around you, or perhaps they were mosquitoes? Either way, they’re bothering you all to a catastrophic level.

One had flown into Kenji’s mouth earlier, and you’d have laughed if one hadn’t flown into yours as soon as you opened your mouth to do so.

You were still grimacing from the taste of it when, out of the blue, Ben screams. Prompting the rest of you to turn around and scream as well.

“Sorry, I stepped on a twig.” He apologizes with a crooked smile.

Various complaints rang out. The only ones who don’t rag on Ben being Darius and you. Though you said nothing only because the damn taste was still in your mouth.

Darius reassures him kindly. “It’s okay Ben. We’re all on edge.”

“And lost.” Yasmina adds.

Sammy nods. “Yeah, we’ve been out here for a while now. Darius, you sure we’re still headed for the park?”

“Well, we’d be sure if I still had my phone,” Brooklynn jabs. “Because it has a GPS, a compass app, and is also a phone!”

“Sammy didn’t steal your phone!” Yasmina shouted as she shoved Brooklynn away from the girl. “No one stole your phone! Can we please stop talking about the phone?!”

Ben interrupts worriedly, “You guys! You guys, you guys, you guys. Could you all yell at each other quieter, please?”

“My fellow campers, chill!” Kenji yells, ignoring Ben’s concerns. “What we need here is someone who can make the hard call on what to do next. Since I’m obviously leadership material…”

Hard, disbelieving stares are the only response Kenji gets.

“... I’ll do this. And my first decree as leader is… for everyone to stop talking and just listen to Darius!”

Ignoring the decree as leader part, you actually didn’t mind Darius being in charge. He probably knew the most about dinosaurs apart from you, and you certainly weren’t looking to be in a leadership role anytime soon.

Though this forced leadership role only seemed to confuse Darius. Kenji hung an arm around Darius’s shoulder and gave him what you could only assume to be a pep talk.

“So, which way, Darius?” Kenji asked, this time within hearing volume.

“Please, you’re just trying to cover up the fact that you’re lost, too, Mr. VIP.” Brooklynn accused. “None of us know where we are.”

“I know where we are!” Darius suddenly yelled. “We’re by the Carnotaurus paddock! I thought this place looked familiar.”

Darius runs off, while Kenji brags with a smirk. “Am I an excellent leader or what?”

He’s passed by with no second glances as everyone follows Darius without another word.

“I remember the fence!” Darius’s face goes from a carefree to fearful once he finds what he’s looking for. “The broken, ripped-down fence.”

“That means… that means Toro is out here… with us,” Ben whimpered worriedly.

“Now we have to deal with the Indominus and Toro.” Darius said grimly, before raising his head in confusion. “Hold up. How do you know about Toro?”

“We all know. Kenji told us, like, the day after it happened.” Yasmina said as she walked past the three.

Darius eyes Kenji with a disappointed stare, but continues being the Kenji-assigned leader he is.

“We know this enclosure is due North of the main park. So, if we keep going that way, we’ll hit the visitors’ center. We’re sure to find Dave and Roxie, or someone else there in charge.” He announces.

“Yes! Exactly what I was thinking, as a leader, which I am.” Kenji gloats. “Follow me!”

Everyone adheres to Kenji’s words, all except Darius, Ben, and you.

“I don’t think finding an adult is going to help.” Ben admitted. “A terrifying, camouflaged dinosaur trashed our camp. No way they have a plan for that.”

“You saw what that thing did to those men at the observation tower, and the Brachiosaurus too.” You remarked with crossed arms.

“I know, it’s scary. But this is Jurassic World. Dealing with dinosaurs is what they do.”

“They didn’t deal so well at their last park, did they?” Ben hummed sarcastically.

“Everything will be okay. Trust me.” Darius asserted with a hand on Ben’s shoulder. To you, he smiles, but his eyes seem to search your own for something out of reach.

Once Darius walks out of range, Ben looks up at you in question. “Do you trust him?”

You don’t answer. Stuck, glaring in the direction Darius had gone.

Instead of giving a verbal response, you simply grab ahold of his sleeve and begin pulling him with you towards the rest of the group.

For the time being, Darius was your best bet out of this. So you’d stick with him if it meant you’d get off of Isla Nublar alive. Plus, you had to figure out why he looked at you like that.

The group pauses their trek once you all come across what appeared to be a massacre. A stray gyrosphere lay with an enormous hole broken into it, along with an Ankylosaurus corpse.

From this distance you could see how the creature was torn into, yet its body was ultimately intact. Scarily so.

“Predators don’t kill prey and then just leave without feeding.” Darius said with a dejected face. “This… this isn’t right.”

“That thing did the same with those men, didn’t it?” You questioned, eyeing the corpse. “It’s killing for fun.”

A rustling in the bushes grabs your guys’ attention, and you all run to hide. From behind the broken gyrosphere, you have a clear view of the bushes. The rustling only gets louder, and with a snarl, something busts out.

Everyone screams, but you could only stare at what had emerged.

With a scoff, you stand up and push Ben towards the baby Ankylosaurus as she bellows. His eyes light up at the sight of her.

“Bumpy!” He shouts in delight, running towards the little one as she meets him halfway.

The little Ankylosaurus was still evidently a baby, but she had grown since the last time you’ve seen her. Now you could confidently say that she was about the size of a small dog–a wide, small dog.

Ben rubbed his face against the baby as he laughed, Kenji complaining about how smelly she was.

“How do you even know that’s the same dinosaur?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Her big head bump! Dr. Wu said she’s asymmetrical, but he’s wrong that it’s bad.” He said with glee. “And so what if she’s asymmetrical? There’s nothing wrong with being different, or bumpy, or getting tired after reading an overly thrilling book! And maybe if her parents had listened to her, she wouldn’t have come here and gotten attacked!”

You had an inkling this wasn’t about the little dinosaur anymore.

“As fun as this reunion is, shouldn’t we keep moving south?” Kenji wondered, with a thumb pointing behind him.

“I’m not spending another hour walking through the jungle, hoping that we don’t run into that Indominus.” Brooklynn huffed. “We need a new plan.”

“Uh, yeah, obviously we need a new plan. So, I had Darius figure out a new one.” He punched Darius’s shoulder playfully. “Lay it on us, bro.”

“Okay. So, uh… we need to find somewhere safe close by. If camp is that way, and the park is that way…” He gasped.

“Isn’t Dr. Wu’s field genetics lab near here? You guys went on the tour. Does this area look familiar?”

You all spared a glance around, trying to spark a sense of familiarity.

“Um… yeah. Y-yeah.” Sammy stammered uncertainly. “I think it might be over that way.”

“That seems right.” Yasmina nodded.

“Great! That’s where we should go. There’s bound to be an adult there who can help or tell us what to do. Right?”

Faint roaring ended Darius’s questions.

“Fine, whatever! Let’s just go to the lab. As long as we are moving away from that,” Brooklynn whispered shakingly.

“What about Bumpy?” Ben asked as the creature in question growled softly.

“She’s a dinosaur, bro. She belongs out here in the wild.” Kenji answered plainly.

“And she’ll just slow us down. We gotta go now.” Yasmina said urgently, not waiting for a response as she kept moving.

You patted Ben’s back sympathetically, following the rest of the group so that he could say his goodbyes in peace.

As you all walked, Darius asked Kenji a series of questions, worried about his decision-making. Eventually, his worries rubbed off on Kenji, as he ran ahead of the group.

This just left you and Darius walking quietly in the back. You could feel him glancing at you every once in a while. You would’ve said something if his eyes didn’t wander behind you.

Confused, you looked behind yourself, now noticing the absence of a particular germaphobe.

“Wait, where’s Ben?” You said suddenly, causing the group to look back in concern.

A blue t-shirt eventually appeared from behind some bushes, him grunting as he tugged Bumpy along. She released a low growl as he shushed her.

Yasmina cleared her throat, causing Ben to jump before shoving the dinosaur behind the shrubs.

He smiled awkwardly. “How’s it hangin’... dudes?” He mimicked a surfer accent as he finger-gunned you all.

“Ben, are you hiding Bumpy in that bush?” Darius asked in disappointment.

The Ankylosaurus bellowed softly from the bushes as Ben shook his head. “Nope. That could be anything. The jungle makes all sorts of weird noises.”

He grunted as Bumpy busted through the undergrowth and knocked him off his feet.

“How did she get here?” He asked with an unconvincing smile.

“We don’t have time for this!” Yasmina said firmly. “There are dinosaurs eating people out here, and Bumpy can’t keep up!”

“She can move faster.” Ben defended. “Ankylosauruses run fast. Right, Darius?”

“When they’re fully grown, maybe, but she’s just…”

The baby Ankylosaurus cuts Darius off with a huff, then suddenly falls to the ground, snoring.

Kenji scoffed, “Wow! Yeah, total speed demon. Say goodbye, Ben.”

You’d defend him if you could, but leaving the dinosaur behind was the best option. However, you all paused when Ben abruptly shouted.

“No! You say hello, because she is coming with us. So… there!”

“Ben, you’re not thinking this through. Bumpy’s too slow.” Brooklynn explained.

She was right. If Ben wanted the best chance possible to survive, it’d be best to leave her here. You didn’t understand why he’d risk his survival to bring some dinosaur with you all.

“Then… then we’ll put her in the van!”

Huh?

Sammy scoffed in disbelief. “What van?”

Ben pointed behind your group. “That one!”

Lo-and-behold, a black van stood on the dirt road not too far away from you lot.

Running to open the back doors, Kenji gasps excitedly. “It’s an ACU transport!”

Upon seeing your confused faces, he continued. “Asset containment unit. Got a tour of their HQ.”

He climbed into the van, grabbing the hold handle as he did so. “Super hard-core dino-trapping security dudes.”

“Then where are they?” Darius questioned.

An air of uncertainty surrounded your group before Brooklynn yelled.

“Is that a tablet?!” She shoved Darius out of the way as she climbed into the van desperately.

After her, everyone filed in. It seems luck was upon you all, as Sammy found a stray walkie-talkie.

“Dave, Roxie! Can y’all hear us?” Sammy begged.

The only response she got was the crackling of static.

“And of course this doesn’t have communication enabled.” Brooklynn whined, her face illuminated by the green screen of the tablet. “Because you know what? Why would it? If I had my phone–”

“Enough already!” Darius screamed.

“There are bigger things going on here than your phone!”

Your eyes widened as he yelled, though you couldn’t blame him. The constant fighting was getting on your nerves as well. Not to mention that Darius had been peacekeeping this entire day.

Brooklynn went quiet at his outburst, though her attention drifted to the tablet as a beeping started up.

“There’s a map program with little moving dots on it.” She announced, and everyone huddled to see the screen.

“They chip all the dinosaurs electronically to track them. See? There’s us, and there’s…” Darius paused at what was on the screen.

“Wait. Here’s the Brachiosaurus Grove on the map, so why are the Brachiosauruses way over there?” Kenji pointed out.

“I think maybe the fences are down. At least some of them.” Bumpy’s trilling interrupted Darius.

The little dinosaur ran in circles as she squealed in distress from her place outside of the van.

“Easy girl!” Ben instantly jumped out to console her.

The Ankylosaurus went still, as a rumbling could be heard from just half a mile away. It resembled footsteps, big ones.

“Guys,” Ben murmured. “Something’s coming this way.”

Brooklynn stared at the tablet in confusion. “That’s weird. Whatever that is, it isn’t showing up on the tablet.”

The only visible dot near you was your guy’s own location.

“What kind of dinosaur wouldn’t have a transponder?” Darius whispered from beside you.

“I’m not in the mood to find out.” Kenji whined.

Bumpy kept squealing despite Ben’s efforts to silence her, causing both you and Yasmina to walk to the edge of the van.

“Ben, shut her up!” Yasmina hissed.

Ben didn’t get the chance to, as a deep roar rang out. And it was way too close for comfort.

“We’ve gotta go now!” Darius screamed.

As Ben picked Bumpy up into his arms, you held your hands out carefully. Heaving as he plops her into your arms and using all your weight to pull her into the van while Ben clambers in as well.

You pushed the baby Ankylosaurus off of you and practically threw yourself into a seat next to Yasmina.

“Wait! Doesn’t anyone know how to drive a van?” Darius exclaimed upon realizing that everyone had buckled their seatbelts, yet no one had gotten into the driver’s seat.

“No, but we drove gyrospheres, right? It can’t be that different,” Sammy said skeptically.

Ben shook his head. “The gyrospheres had joysticks and a Jimmy Fallon tutorial. I don’t even have my learner’s permit!”

“I do!” Kenji grunted as he jumped up and onto the driver’s seat.

He hesitantly placed his hands on the wheel. “Hands at ten and two–”

You all yelled at him to go, and he sped off… only to drive backwards.

“Wrong way! Wrong way!” Ben screamed.

Kenji quickly shifted the gear at random to go forward instead. But with that added detour, the Indominus was now right behind the black vehicle.

“It’s gaining! Go faster!” Sammy urged him.

“I can’t!” Kenji whined.

He obviously had little to no experience in driving a car.

“You’re in the wrong gear!” You yelled.

“Well, how do I shift gears?” Kenji spared a wide-eyed glance towards you.

“You just did!” you shouted in bewilderment.

Everyone screamed as the dinosaur came closer and closer to the van.

“It’s coming!”

“Step on that thing!”

“Zigzag!”

“Are you signaling?!”

“Can everyone not yell at me while I’m saving our lives!” Kenji said in exasperation.

Sparing a look towards the back windows, you watched as the white dinosaur just barely grabbed hold of the van with its jaws.

None of you were going to get out of this alive if Kenji kept driving like this, so you unbuckled yourself and lunged forward to grasp the steering wheel and turn it in another direction.

Unfortunately, that direction was a cliff.

The cliff was steep, so much so that the van practically glided down it at concerning speeds. Despite all the screams, Kenji tried his best at steering the van to avoid all the incoming trees.

Eventually, the van swerved to its side as its tires screeched. The sound was like that of nails on a chalkboard; and you’d cover your ears if you weren’t already holding on to anything in your proximity for dear life.

Soon, the van slowed its speed and bumped into a tree, almost tipping over before regaining its balance with a loud thump.

“At least we lost the Indominus.” Brooklynn panted.

“Now… where do we go?” Sammy wondered aloud.

Pointing towards the front of the van, Ben answered, “How about into the genetics lab?”

The lab stood not too far from where the van had come to a stop. Once again, Ben had summoned something out of thin air.

“It’s a gift.” He smiles smugly when everyone stares at him in shock.

The door hissed as your group stepped in. It was dark, leaving only the red glow of the exit sign on the door to illuminate your way.

Although, as you all walked further in, there laid a stray cake with some lighting of its own. A birthday cake, with candles lined up evenly on the top, and a salmon rose made of frosting.

Suddenly, a man jumped from behind the cake, the candles illuminating his bared teeth.

You all screamed in surprise, the grown man doing the same as he shined a lamp directly at your group.

“Not dinosaurs. You’re not dinosaurs.” The man groaned as he collapsed onto the same table that was holding the cake.

“This is the worst birthday ever.” He sighed.

After a conversation or two, everyone besides the grown man had a fat slice of cake.

You sat in a stray computer desk, next to Ben’s crouched form. Shoveling a piece of the cake into your mouth with a fork left on the table. It was actually pretty good.

Looking down towards Ben’s form and watching as he wiped some dirt from Bumpy’s head, you noticed he hadn’t grabbed a slice. Perhaps he was a vegan? If he was, you wouldn’t be too surprised.

“Again, we are so happy we found you. Things are crazy!” Darius explained. “There’s a giant camouflaged dinosaur out there. Also, regular dinosaurs. We’ve been hoping to find someone–”

“You’re sure you closed the door behind you, right?” The man interrupted as he peeked from behind a corner.

It was silly that this man wearing a lab coat and a colorful party hat on his head seemed so paranoid.

Despite being a grown adult, he couldn’t seem to stay in one place. He was constantly moving around, looking around for something out of sight. It reminded you of Ben, just a little.

“Uh…” Darius’s eyes rolled to the side in thought. “... I think so.”

“You think, or you know?” The man turned around with raised brows and a wide stare.

Kenji’s belch draws both of their attention towards him.

“Sorry, did you want it back?” He offers the second slice of cake he was about to dig into.

“You know what? Doesn’t matter.” The man continues peeking around the corner, as if a dinosaur would walk through the door at any moment.

“The dinosaurs got out, and no one bothered to tell me; they just ran. So why not? Knock yourself out.”

This guy didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, let alone seven other teenagers.

You got up from the lab chair and plopped down next to Ben and Bumpy. He turned to you with a raised brow, however you paid him no mind as you couldn’t stop staring at the man.

He reminded you too much of—

“You wanna pet her?” Ben suddenly asked.

You turned towards him, then let your gaze wander to the dinosaur in front of you. With a sigh, you set your plate down behind you if only so Bumpy wouldn’t try to lick the plate.

With a shaky hand, you rubbed her head reluctantly. Eventually it traveled to one of her horns, tracing the boney curve carefully. Bumpy bellowed softly, pushing her head further into your hand.

“You’re a natural.” Ben laughed, and you’re embarrassed to admit that you laughed with him.

Ben sat up a bit and began petting her with you, his hands mimicking your own. The dinosaur huffed, pushing itself past you and Ben’s hand and flopping into his lap roughly.

He heaved, and a wide smile came across your face at his situation. Ben groaned at her weight, but ultimately pushed through and continued petting the heavy dinosaur.

Darius drew your attention as he continued talking to the birthday man.

“The park obviously has a plan. So, what’s that plan? What do we do?”

“You’re asking me?” He laughs from his squatted position. “Asking me!” His laugh drags on, creeping the lot of you out.

“Is that, like, a good, freaky laugh?” Sammy asks hopefully.

The man stands to his full height, towering over Darius with a sour expression. “Do you not get it? We’re doomed. No one is coming to help!”

There are shared glances of concern, both because of his behavior and his words.

Kenji hesitantly speaks up, “But what about Dr. Wu, or—”

“Wu? Who do you think is to blame? Wu got greedy. And instead of dinosaurs, he built monsters.” During his charade, his hand flew to a machine, currently incubating some dinosaur eggs.

“Masrani, Dearing, they’re all clueless about what’s really going on here.” He says as he brings one egg to his face. “And after everything I did for the other guys–” He cut himself off with a laugh.

Brooklynn turned towards him in the office chair she sat in. “Other guys? What other—”

The egg he’s holding cracks as he sets it down with a little too much force. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Jurassic World isn’t a park. It’s a powder keg, and it’s detonating all around us!”

Everyone jumps at his volume, guard officially up now that this man is showing off his deranged views.

You rise from the floor and inch towards Darius, ready to leave at any moment. You aren’t going to get any help from this guy. You all would be better off on your own.

“We’re all going down. End of story!” He spoke gravelly.

Darius shook his head in distraught. “No, you have to know what to do. You’re an adult!”

The man raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t look at me. I was just hiding until you all barged in.”

“But we drove all the way here ‘cause–”

Both you and the man’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, although for completely different reasons.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! You have a vehicle?”

“We ran. Couldn’t find any cars.” You intersected quickly, shoving Darius away from the man with your shoulder.

Darius gives you a confused glance, before moving his gaze to the man before you.

You grimaced when the man grabbed hold of your arms. “No, no, I heard that. He said you guys drove.”

“Well, you must’ve heard wrong.” You made a small attempt at pulling yourself out of his grasp, but his hold on you only became tighter.

After a tense few seconds, he abruptly pushes you into Darius as he runs out of the building.

You already knew what he was going to do, so you ran after him as fast as you could. You definitely weren’t as good of a runner as Yasmina or anything, but you’d be damned if this man-child stole your guy’s only mode of transit.

The others lingered behind, whether it was out of shock or because they had already put too much trust into this adult, you didn’t know.

You caught up to him quickly, as you had gotten a head start, however the most you could do was grab onto his lab coat and try to pull him backwards.

The two of you grumbled out curses as he tried to shove you off of him while you tried your best to keep a hold on him. However, it all ends in a singular movement as he elbows you straight in the face.

A crack follows, and this time it couldn’t have been from your glasses. You seize in sudden aching pain, along with the realization that you can’t breathe through your nose anymore.

The man pushes himself out of your grasp, though he’s long forgotten with all the red covering your hands. You try to cup your nose, but hiss with the pain that wells up again.

It just keeps pouring and pouring. It seems as if it’ll never stop, and you’re not sure if it will. Your shoulders are grabbed, and you know it’s not Ben or Darius simply because you can see them running ahead of you with the rest of the group.

Oh right, a grown man was trying to steal a van from you guys.

You feel hands on your face, pushing you to look at the person in front of you. It’s Brooklynn, you can tell by all the pink.

Normally you’d tell by just looking at her, her features would usually be easy to see from how close she was at the moment. But your watery eyes, which worsen your already not so great vision, blur your sight.

She says something, and the ringing in your ears finally simmers down to where you can hear the last few words she utters.

“—back in place!”

Oh no.

In one motion, she lifts the lower part of your nose and sets it back in place with yet another crack.

You yelp in surprise, a bit pathetically you must admit, and she immediately releases her hold on you.

“Sorry, sorry!” Brooklynn’s hands hover over your form nervously.

Blinking away the tears in your eyes, you can finally see her without the added blur, and you realize she still has that van tablet. Only it’s held between her tricep and her torso, leaving her hands unoccupied.

Luckily, all that’s left of the pain is a dull ache; ignoring the baffling amount of blood that’s still pouring out of your nostrils. You’re certainly going to have a nasty bruise on your face later.

You walk towards the remaining group because of Brooklynn ushering you to, watching as the man starts the van engine.

The man drives away, but Yasmina keeps up to speed with him, lingering behind the vehicle. Man, you’re glad to have an actual runner in your group.

Maybe you should have just let Yasmina handle this. Because then you wouldn’t be here with blood guzzling out of your nose like a waterfall while Brooklynn worried over you.

You try to keep the van in your range of vision, hoping to see Yasmina catch up to the van.

Unfortunately, you don’t get to, and instead the van is suddenly tossed to the side by a familiar gray dinosaur. Its roar is deep and guttural, harsh on your ears that had only stopped ringing a minute or two ago.

The Indominus continues to play with the van like a cat to a mouse. The man inside fumbles about, trying his best to get out of the van in one piece. He bursts out of the back before crawling under the vehicle.

With one push of its head, the dinosaur moves the van off the man, leaving him bare. His screams fill the air as the Indominus tears into him without hesitation.

The group breaks into a sprint, running opposite to where the Indominus is.

In another unfortunate turn of events, a large gate meant to keep dinosaurs in their enclosure blocks your guy’s escape.

“Come on, are you kidding me?” Darius whines fearfully.

Kenji surges forwards, banging on the metal gate. “Perfect! The park’s only intact fence!”

The echoing roar of the Indominus influences you all to find cover instead of complaining about fences.

Behind a pile of rocks with a large supply crate atop it, Yasmina finds it in her best interest to argue with Ben about Bumpy getting in the way of her reaching the van. You know nothing about that since you were busy bleeding out of your nose, which you still are, by the way.

“If it weren’t for her, I would’ve made it to the van!”

“And then you would have been eaten. Bumpy saved your life!” Ben defends.

When Yasmina opens her mouth to argue once more, you step in because is this seriously the most important thing right now?

“The van’s still there, that guy is gone, and the giant, man-eating dinosaur isn’t too far behind us.” You pull your hands away from your nose. The bleeding had stopped. “That’s what we should worry about. We can worry about Bumpy’s usefulness later.”

No one responds, and you don’t need them to. You were right; you knew that much.

“Did that guy do that to your nose?” Darius asks with a dejected stare.

“Well, I wouldn’t do this to myself, would I?” you answer with a scoff.

It’s quiet yet again, but Darius’s guilty look tells you more than words ever could.

Wiping your bloody hands on the grass, you sigh. “I’m fine. It’s mostly the blood that’s bothering me.”

Your hands are stained, sadly. But at least they’re not drenched anymore.

“Y’know, without your glasses, you look a lot less nerdy.” Kenji says with a sickeningly sweet smile.

You look up at him with furrowed brows and a prominent frown.

“If that’s supposed to be a compliment, I’m going to kill you.”

The conversation is cut short as a roar echoes not too far from your group’s hiding spot.

Everyone huddled closer to the ground, and the steps had almost faded before Bumpy began squealing.

Darius crept to the edge of your guy’s hiding spot, looking around for the Indominus.

You tried your best to help Ben quiet Bumpy, but it’s in her nature to make a ruckus when she’s in trouble. It alerts her herd to protect her. But you all aren’t her herd, and you can’t protect her the same way they do either.

A growl from the Indominus bounces off the supply crates around you all.

Everyone stands up, though still low to the ground, and waits for a signal from Darius.

The boy in question gasps suddenly and makes a hand motion to tell everyone to get moving.

Ben grabs ahold of his shoulder and shakes his head fearfully.

Darius puts his hand atop of Ben’s. “Trust me.”

And with that, you all run as quietly as you can from one crate to the next, using each as a cover from the Indominus.

Almost immediately after your group gets to the next crate, the Indominus inspects your guy’s first hiding spot. It sniffs around before shoving its muzzle into a specific spot on the ground. The same spot you had wiped the blood from your hands.

It looks up suddenly, and you have to resist the urge to gasp, scream, or make any noise at all. Because now it knows someone is here.

While trying to get past the crate, the Indominus appears suddenly, and Darius has to duck behind a barrel.

It growls, and you can tell that it suspects something, so you all try to move discreetly to the next crate.

Only half of you get all the way behind the third crate. Ben, Kenji, and you have to hide behind some stray barrels as the Indominus forces itself through the narrow gap between one crate and another.

Darius makes a come-hither motion to tell you three to move, but the growling you hear almost right next to you is enough to convince you not to listen.

Darius eyes the dinosaur, before picking something up and hiding behind the crate with the rest of the group again.

Only a few seconds later, a clanging rang out somewhere far off from where you all are.

The Indominus lets out a grating roar, before shuffling towards where the sound was made.

Kenji peaks from behind the barrels, then hurriedly crawls towards the rest of the group, as do you and Ben.

Once you all are in one group again, you finally have a clear shot to the van.

Darius shuffles along the wall of a crate, and with a signal from him, you all make a break for the van.

However, from behind you, you hear Brooklynn trip and fall to the ground. The tablet she refused to let out of her sight fell to the ground and began trilling.

She tried to turn the tablet off in time, however it was no use. The Indominus had already heard it.

Brooklynn whimpered as she tried to crawl backwards from the commotion the gray dinosaur was making.

The rest of the group screams as the Indominus pushes through an onslaught of crates in order to get to Brooklynn.

Sammy yells her name and forces her to stand before running off with her. The Indominus following close behind the two girls.

Seeing Brooklynn and Sammy in trouble, Darius hurriedly creates another plan in his head. He searches the surrounding area for any ideas, and eventually his eyes land on a thick stick left astray on the grass.

“You all get to the van. I’m going to help Brooklynn and Sammy.” Darius says as he grabs the stick from the ground.

Without another word, Darius bangs the stick onto a crate while the rest of you run to the van.

“Hey, over here!” He yells at the Indominus before throwing the stick and sprinting in another direction.

With Darius’s distraction, the girls run from their hiding place and head towards the van without disruption.

Yasmina and Ben hold the back doors open for them, while Kenji gets in the front to drive again. You, however, are having none of that.

Forcing the driver door open before he can close it, you shove yourself into the driver’s seat.

“Move.” You say curtly.

Ignoring his glare, you twist the keys to start the engine, before pausing and turning to look into the back of the van in concern.

“Wait, Darius isn’t here.”

Snarls and screams that could only come from the Indominus and Darius draw your attention.

Sammy and Ben instantly unbuckle their seatbelts and throw open the backdoors. Just in time to see Darius running from the Indominus as it throws a crate out of its way with an aggressive push of its head.

As soon as the van doors close, your foot is hitting the gas pedal and speeding off.

Seeing as the Indominus refuses to give chase to the van in the rear-view mirror, laughter is all that’s heard in the van.

Even more so when the previously useless radio in the van crackles to life, a familiar voice calling out from it.

“Kids? Come on, pick up! There’s something going on. Stay at camp. We’re heading to you.”

Darius grabs the radio as he settles into a seat, responding to Roxie with vigor.

“No, we’re heading to you!” He smiles.

“Darius! Wait, why are you–”

“We’re fine, but we had to leave camp.” He explains. “Long story.”

Yasmina pulls the radio from his grasp. “Short story: a dinosaur ate camp.”

Kenji then pulled the radio from her hands as he speaks louder than necessary into the little walkie-talkie. “Shorter story: epic leader Kenji somehow got everyone out safely.”

“That wasn’t any shorter, but alright.” You huff, fighting off a smile.

Ben leans towards the front car seat, taking the radio from Kenji. “And then we found a van and Bumpy!”

Brooklynn leans forward to talk into the radio. “And I fixed a broken nose!”

Both sides of the radio go silent at that, and you turn around and make a cutting motion to your throat.

“It wasn’t broken, actually! We’re all good!” She lied, realizing it would be better not to worry them.

With a sigh, you turn back to the road. This reunion is great and all, but as the only person who seemed to know how to drive here, you had to fit the part and resist crashing.

“So you’re all well?”

“Yeah, yeah! All good here.” Darius stuttered as he took the radio from Brooklynn. “We’re cutting through the jungle and heading to the main park.”

Eventually, the van heads down a gentle slope, and Darius happily continues.

“We should be there soon.”

Turning off the radio, Darius turns to the rest of you with a bright smile.

“We’re getting out of here!”

There’s an onslaught of cheering, and then a peaceful quiet.

“Good job not getting me eaten, bro,” Kenji congratulates Darius.

“Thanks, brah.” Darius responds, mimicking Kenji’s weird surfer talk.

“Oh, no, you–you made that sound weird.” Kenji shakes his head in mock disappointment. “No more bro-talk for you.”

A tranquil quiet is all that’s heard afterwards until Sammy laughs gleefully.

“We did it, camp family! And not a moment too—”

She cuts herself off with a grunt as the van shakes. You must be driving over a rock ridden road at the moment, nothing to worry about.

Though the uproar that follows after tells you otherwise.

“My phone.” Brooklynn mutters. “I knew it!”

You turn in shock, watching as Sammy surveys the group’s faces in guilt. Though when she turns to you, she can’t warn you in time for the crash that follows.

All you hear are the screams of your fellow campers and the shattering of glass before it all goes dark.