#maybe alien stds | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

free-for-all-fics · 9 months ago

Text

Binge watched Peacemaker so here’s some quick Vigilante prompts! Special thanks to my bestie @tinalbion for putting up with my brain rot and spam messaging. (You’re the one who told me to watch this show, so this is your fault! 🫵😂) Please tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 💙

1. You’re a butterfly who just so happened to take over the body of someone close to Vigilante’s age. You just did what you had to do to survive. It’s like a Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides situation where you’re like Murn, you dissented because you don’t believe your kind have the right to impose their will on the humans like some sort of bug overlords and you just wanna protect the world. You’re one of the only true “good ones” out of your entire species and, in a twist, maybe prefer Earth over your home planet. Maybe you got here a long time before they even decided to look for other means of existing or you were sent out as a scout to well…scout the planet for its conditions and level of compatibility. And you were able to blend into human living for longer, so it’s easier for you to adapt into your own personality. But with the way Adrian is with emotions and such, he doesn't find it weird that you’re not as “human” as other people. He just thinks your oddities are fun quirks. But then whoops you fall in love with Adrian and he falls in love with you. How could he not? You’re beautiful and sweet but also badass when you need to be and you and he have lots of things in common. What if, even after the cow is killed, you miraculously find an alternative food source that can sustain you, so you won’t die within the week after all and you and Adrian can stay together.

“I’m so relieved it can’t be passed sexually. Not that I’m comparing you to an an STD. I love you.” since Chris hooked up with a butterfly and had those fears of her leaving monster STDs on his dick, that being a Butterfly was a venereal disease of some type, that he was going to become one, like a dick vampire. Or he'd really freak about it going up his butt, since Economos made that presentation.

“My girlfriend’s an alien but it’s fine we’re fine it’s cool.”

2. You and Adrian are in the car together with Adrian driving and he may or may not know you’re a butterfly. A butterfly splats against the windshield, clinging and still alive. Adrian, not thinking much about it, says, “Ew.” And turns on his water and windshield wipers to wipe the butterfly away, effectively killing it. He goes back to vibing and singing along to the radio until he looks over at you in the passenger seat and sees your horrified expression. Either he doesn’t know and assumes you just care a lot about animals (he’s never seen you eat meat. Come to think of it, he’s never seen you eat, period but he’s just shrugged that off, guessing maybe you’re just uncomfortable eating in front of people.) Or he knows and is so oblivious to it like,

"Babe, what’s wrong? Are you feeling carsick or— Oh. Ohhhh. Oh no, I totally spaced. Since you’re…y’know…in a human body, I kinda…forgot. Oh shit, that was offensive wasn't it...? Did you know them, like were they your friend or sibling or parent or ex??”

“I just witnessed my boyfriend kill one of my kind but it’s fine, it’s fine, we’re fine.”

3. You and Adrian were dating and you die somehow so they let a butterfly take over your body because it’s like a The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals situation. Better to have some semblance of you with your human memories than nothing at all. Maybe Adrian is taken over by a butterfly too and the butterflies that take your bodies just so happened to be lovers or “mates”. So while you’ve both changed, you and Adrian are still happy and in love in the end, in a way, since the butterflies possess your human memories while in your bodies.

For a slightly happier version, what if it’s just a close call situation and instead of killing you and taking over your brain completely, since it said the butterflies give human hosts super strength among other things, a butterfly is inserted to heal you and it’s more like having another voice in your head like a mental roommate for a few days or weeks and you have a weird craving for honey/the amber fluid but then once you’re recovered, they leave your body without a fight to find another host that was promised and lined up for them. Maybe someone who was dying anyway, so they’re okay with it.

4. Your mother is the legendary Mothra and/or your father is Drury Walker aka Killer Moth. Killer Moth is primarily a scientist who specializes in genetics and bio-engineering and is capable of breeding, cloning, and modifying insects to his liking. He may have moth-like talents as a consequence of an experiment he did on himself, such as boosted strength, wall-clinging ability, and winged flying. Killer Moth is also a competent hand-to-hand fighter, and he occasionally employs a plasma whip as a weapon and control device for his creatures rather than a cocoon cannon.

“What? No, I’m not a butterfly. I’m a moth. We’re totally different species. Unlike butterflies, we can survive on your food. All of Dad’s experiments to create an army of killer moths failed and all the moths died, except for, well, Larva M-319, or Silkie. He turned into his full moth form temporarily, but then he…exploded…and reverted back to his caterpillar form. It was his way of molting. He’s so cute, though! He’s staying with the Teen Titans. Starfire adopted him. I’ll take you to visit sometime.”

“Okaaaay. But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“if you’re a moth, how are you able to take human form like the Butterflies? Did you kill someone and take their body? Aren’t you an experiment too?”

“Oh. Oh, no, I’m not an experiment. I was born naturally with this ability. I came out human but didn’t come into full control of my powers until much later. I don’t know for sure, but my theory is that I still inherited genetics from Dad’s human side. Dad was human before he became Killer Moth, so… My half-sister, Dad calls her Kitten, she doesn’t have any moth qualities at all. She’s fully human, totally ordinary and a total pain in the ass. I’m not close to her at all. I think she’s always been jealous of me for my moth powers. She doesn’t have superhuman strength, stamina, durability, speed, agility, reflexes, flight, razor-sharp antennae and claws, or Toxikinesis like I do. I don’t even have her number in my phone. I love my dad, despite his…flaws, but because of him and his pushover parenting style, she’s spoiled rotten and insufferable.”

5. The laundromat scene from Dr. Horrible but it’s you and Adrian. Adrian has a huge crush on you and, to get to know you, he keeps making excuses to spend time with you like you’re at the laundromat and he’s like,

“Whoa, that’s weird. I asked for one frozen yogurt and they gave me two. You don’t happen to like frozen yogurt, do you?”

“I love it.”

“What a crazy random happenstance!”

And you’re sitting cross-legged on top of the washing machines eating your frozen yogurt together and bonding and he accidentally lets something slip about his work and, to protect his secret identity/double life as Vigilante, he has to cover with a lame excuse.

“I just, you know, REALLY think I'm qualified for this, this job and I just can't get my foot in the door.”

“I'm sure you will.”

“I wanna do great things, you know? I wanna be an achiever. Like Deadpool…”

“The former Special Forces Operative turned mercenary?”

“…I meant Franklin Delano Roosevelt.”

“Well, I've gotten turned down from plenty of jobs. Even fired a few times.”

“I can't imagine anyone firing you.”

“Neither could I. Now I can visualize it really well. But, you know…everything happens.”

“Don't say ‘for a reason’.”

“No, I'm just saying that everything happens.”

“Not to me.”

6. You’re Clark Kent’s twin sister and the last daughter of Krypton. While Clark works at the Daily Planet as a journalist/reporter, you’re working as a waitress/bartender at Fennel Fields as your cover. When you and Adrian are closing up together you turn on the jukebox and dance to the music while cleaning up. Makes wiping down tables, mopping floors, and stacking chairs much more fun. Adrian thinks it’s cute and sometimes even joins you. Sometimes you mysteriously disappear from your shifts for like fifteen minutes because your brother needs you for superhero stuff so you escape out the back door. Quick in and out since you can quick change into your costume and fly faster than the speed of light. You use your heat vision to warm up coffees or pastries when nobody’s looking so it’s like you never left.

“How did you get those trays out so fast?”

“Oh, uh, muscle memory and years of practice?”

Adrian is a darling who covers for you whenever you have to duck out for a bit because he like likes you and “family emergency” is enough for him at first. You go by the human first name your adoptive parents Martha and Jonathan gave you, but maybe you don’t go by Kent, to make who you really are less obvious. He doesn’t suspect anything until later. Why he gets suspicious is up to you. Sometimes you work the bar and have to ward off creepy, pervy guys.

“What can I get for you?”

“I was hoping you could recommend something better than what we’ve been drinking.”

“Well, for the discerning out-of-towner like yourself, I recommend…(alcoholic drink of your choice). You can really taste the extra ten cents.”

“Yes, by all means, two please. So…will you take your top off for me?”

“What?”

“Take your top off for me like wild college girls. Just a quick look. No one’s watching. Just take it off for me.”

You spray the perverts with the handheld water hose, absolutely soaking them, which causes your coworkers to come over and kick them out. Instead of water, you wish you could use your heat vision on them. Adrian is making mental notes to kill them later or at least seriously fuck them up.

“You know what? When I got this job, I signed up to serve coffee and cold, shitty pastries. If I wanted to be in the Justice League, I’d be in the damn Justice League! Yeah. That’s right, Adrian. I helped my twin brother and his friends save the world from a New God called Darkseid and I fucking killed it! We cut off Steppenwolf’s head and threw it back into the portal before it closed and the Mother Boxes were destroyed. But now, I’m just trying to make ends meet while I work my way through Community College and I can do that just as easily, down the street at Starbucks! I quit!”

“You can’t quit!”

“Yeah, I sure as hell can. Clearly if you don’t want me around you… Why else would you be acting so differently around me?”

“But I don’t want you to quit! I mean…”

Adrian being a total nerd tries to gift you a ring made of actual Kryptonite (how he got his hands on that and got someone to make it into a ring, who knows) but he doesn’t know you’re Superman’s sister and you need to figure out a way to not accept or wear the ring without hurting his feelings (he doesn’t have emotions like people do, but he still has them) and/or revealing your secret identity.

“I’m highly allergic to uhhh…the color green?”

Your disguise is also like glasses and nerdy and shy so you’re a lot like Adrian but then you’re super hot as your supergirl/superwoman persona and he doesn’t realize it’s you but when he does somehow find out your secret he’s like,

“Wait, oh my god, I’m dating a baddie??”

“I’m a superhero, not a bad guy or villain.”

“No, I mean like in the Instagram model hot babe way. I don’t know, I don’t have Instagram, I’m just saying you’re hot both in superhero and civilian form.”

“Oh, uh…thanks? I don’t have Instagram either. I’m chronically offline, I guess. Too busy with…superhero stuff.”

“Yeah, same…”

Classic Star Wars misunderstanding where Adrian thinks you and Clark/Kal-El are dating or in an intimate relationship because he’s seen Clark pick you up from work, wrap his arm around your shoulders (but he doesn’t see the part where he does it to put you in a headlock so he can give you a noogie or do other twin brother things to annoy you), or you just spend a lot of time with him because duh you’re in the Justice League or working alongside him part-time.

Or maybe when the Justice League brought him back from the dead, you were called and had to ditch Adrian in the middle of a date. You made an excuse, but he thought it was because you didn’t like him or how the date was going. But turns out it was because Clark didn’t know who he was and was going berserk, using his heat vision and other powers to destroy police cars and fight the Justice League, not recognizing them as his friends. He only snapped out of it when you came on the scene and called him by his human name. You didn’t have time to change into your costume, so you had to approach him on foot and in human clothes. You couldn’t use your powers while you were dressed as a civilian, but he still recognized you. However, from Adrian’s perspective, (whether he saw it on the tv or in person), when Kal-El hugged you and buried his face in your hair, it looked romantic. All he saw was Superman and you wrapping your arms around each other and Superman shooting up into the air, taking you away. When you come back after Steppenwolf is defeated, you have to explain the situation.

“I'm sure Kal-El wasn't on that thing when it blew.”

“He wasn't. I can feel it.”

“You love him, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“All right. I understand. Fine. When he comes back, I won't get in the way.”

“Oh. It's not like that at all. He's my brother.” While Adrian’s brain is too busy processing this information, you kiss him.

“Damn, babe, if only we had gotten together sooner. We could’ve really used you during Project Butterfly when we took out the Cow. You would’ve been so OP you would’ve destroyed those butterflies in milliseconds with your flight and heat vision. And your impenetrability? Those bullets would’ve bounced right off you!”

You’re Kal-El’s twin sister and have adopted a dog (whatever breed you choose) that’s superpowered due to the Butterfly in its head. Once your twin brother discovers you have a Butterfly as a pet dog, he tries to give you shit about it and tell you to “get rid of it”, which you know means he wants you to kill it. But you point out that he has Krypto and he’s being a hypocrite.

“You wanna disapprove of my choice in a pet dog? What about Krypto? He’s literally a super dog too! With heat vision, flight, super strength, and speed! I love Krypto, he’s a very good boy, but so is my dog! They’re the same!”

“They’re not the same! They’re very different! Krypto didn’t horrifically murder hundreds of people and take over their bodies to try to enforce their will on the human race!”

“And neither did the Butterfly that’s in this dog! He/She was a dissenter! You’re gonna blame the actions of others on him/her? He’s/she’s a good Butterfly! I promise! He/She has used those colorful push to talk buttons or ‘one tap for yes, two taps for no’ to communicate with me, and he/she has no intent to hurt me or take over my body. I feed him/her this honey-like stuff and we go on walks and he/she cuddles with me on the couch or in bed and plays with dog toys like any other normal dog!

“Dad said we were put on Earth for a reason, and that reason was to protect humanity! How is keeping that thing helping to protect them?”

“We are protecting the humans! We killed the Cow and stopped the invasion, which you and your friends were too late for to help, by the way! And newsflash, we’re all aliens from outer space, Kal-El! You, me, your dog, my dog! Need I remind you that it was me who dogsat Krypto and handled all the “watch over and protect the world” stuff while you were dead? Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Before the Cow was killed, I swiped more than enough jars of this amber fluid from the processing plant to sustain him/her for many years to come.”

Bonus if you try to get your boyfriend, Adrian, to back you up.

“What about a Chihuahua?”

“Too small, probably wouldn’t fit.”

“Would be cool, though.”

“That wouldn’t be cool at all. Why would that be cool?” Kal-El asks.

“You tell me.”

“It wouldn’t be.”

“There’s your answer.”

Well, he tried. He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit. You’re still not killing or giving up your dog. The “I was born first so you have to listen to me,” excuse Clark loved to use when you were growing up in Kansas with your adoptive parents won’t work this time.

7. You’re Adrian’s best friend and he has a crush on you but you’re oblivious or he keeps it to himself because he doesn’t wanna risk ruining your friendship but then you tell him you got a date or two lined up with Aquaman, Superman, etc. and he tries to subtly discourage you from going on that date/those dates.

“What’s so wrong about Aquaman, hmm? He brings fish to people when they’re hungry and helps protect the sea from pollution and other environmental damage caused by humans. He’s saved so many sea turtles from choking on those plastic ring soda can things.”

“He fucked a fish!”

“He did not fuck a fish!”

“He wanted to fuck a fish!”

“He’s handsome, and an excellent swimmer…”

“What’s your problem with Superman?”

“He’s an alien!”

“Don’t be racist or xenophobic, Adrian.”

“A literal alien from outer space. And! And! He’s the Man of Steel!”

“Yes… impenetrability is one of his superpowers, hence the nickname. So?”

“So?? Haven’t you thought about why he really earned that nickname? He’d break your hand if you tried to punch him, sure, but he really got that nickname because every woman he’s ever slept with has ended up in a wheelchair for weeks after the deed.”

“Oh, come on. That’s bullshit.”

“Nuh uh! I read it! It’s true! It says that once you go Kryptonian, you’re gonna need a wheelchair.”

“From where? A fanfiction site? Kal-El is smart, handsome, and…”

Adrian wants to scream. Either you go on your dates with Justice League men and he tries (and probably fails) to sabotage them, and/or something drives him to finally confess. Or the Justice league men are in on it and it’s a ploy, all part of your plan to push Adrian to fess up already.

Or for something similar that’s funny, Adrian is your current boyfriend and somehow finds out that before you were dating, you, Superman, and Aquaman had a threesome. Or many threesomes, if you did it more than once.

“We’re just good friends now. Ok, yeah, I’ll admit that in the past, we were Friends With Benefits and hooked up a few times. So? You’ve had threesomes too, Adrian. I know about you, Peacemaker, and that Amber girl. Wasn’t she married? And I know that wasn’t the first threesome you’ve had.”

“Superman, I can understand…if you’re into men who would absolutely shatter your pelvis. And Aquaman? You really fucked the fish fucker?”

“Oh my god, Kal-El did not shatter my pelvis and Arthur did not fuck a fish! Where do you hear these rumors?”

“Google.”

“Well, what you read on the internet isn’t true. Anyway, it was years ago. It shouldn’t matter anymore. We’re all in committed relationships with other people now.”

“Did they give you any weird sexually transmitted alien or fish diseases like in the sci-fi movies?”

“Oh my god. No, they were both clean. Can we change the subject and focus on the task at hand?”

8. After Adrian accidentally blows himself up with a grenade and destroys his suit to the point of no salvation, he goes to you to task you with making him a new one. You designed and made him his Vigilante suit, so he knows he can go to you to patch it up or make him another one. It’s either platonic where you’re his sister or romantic where you’re his girlfriend. Up to you.

“I just need a patch job.”

“Hmm. This is megamesh. Outmoded, but very sturdy. And you’ve torn right through it! What have you been doing, Adrian? Moonlighting hero work?”

“Must have happened a long time ago.”

“I see. This is a hobo suit. You can’t be seen in this! I won’t allow it! Five years ago, maybe, but now?”

“What do you mean? You designed it.”

“I never look back. It distracts from the now. You need a new suit. That much is certain.”

“A new suit? Where the heck am I gonna get a new suit?”

“You can't! It’s impossible! I’m far too busy. So ask me now, before I again become sane.”

“Wait....you want to make me...a suit?”

“You push too hard, Adrian! But I accept. It will be bold. Dramatic!”

“Yeah.”

“Heroic!”

“Yeah, something classic, like Superman! Or Batman! Oh! They have great looks! Oh, the cape and the boots-“

“No capes!” You throw a paper ball at him.

“Isn’t that my decision?”

“NO CAPES! They’re tacky and impractical. Now, go on. Your new suit will be finished before your next assignment.”

“I only need a patch job. For sentimental reasons.”

You sigh. “Fine. I will also fix the hobo suit.”

“You’re the best of the best.”

“Yes, I know, Adrian. I know.”

“This project has completely confiscated my life, V. Consumed me as only hero work can. My best work, I must admit. Simple, elegant, yet bold. You will die.”

“I just...”

“I did your suit, and it turned out so beautiful. I cut it a little roomy for the free movement without creating gaps in the armor or weak points where the cloth is. The fabric is comfortable for sensitive skin and can also withstand a temperature of over 1000 degrees. Completely bulletproof. And machine washable, V. That’s a new feature.”

“What on earth do you think I will be doing?!”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know, Adrian. Luck favors the prepared. I didn’t know your powers, so I covered the basics.”

“I don’t have any powers.”

“No? Well, you’ll look fabulous anyway. Your suit I also designed to withstand enormous friction without heating up or wearing out. A useful feature. Virtually indestructible...yet it breathes like Egyptian cotton. As an extra feature, the suit contains a homing device, giving me the precise global location of the wearer at the touch of a button. Well, V? What do you think?”

9. You’re either Adrian’s girlfriend or sister (romantic or platonic, up to you) and he’s being very stubborn and constantly leaving his hospital room/bed against medical advice because he’s more worried about you than himself so he wants to sit at your bedside until you get discharged, even if you’re asleep most of the time. Or after Adrian escapes from the hospital after getting shot, he goes directly to your place and you’re like,

“So instead of leaving or getting discharged from the hospital like a normal person, you took out your IVs and went out through the window, either ran or hot wired a car to come all the way here, without changing out of your hospital gown?”

“The bullet has been removed and I’m all stitched up, so it’s fine. I’m fine. Do you have spare clothes for me?”

“Yeah, I have a box of your clothes that you left. Gimme a sec and I’ll grab them. But you still have a lot of explaining to do.”

10. You’re Chris’ baby sister (you were an accident) and you were a literal baby when Keith died and so you were taken away from your dad since he was deemed unsuitable or Chris, fearing for your safety, took you away and left you on the doorstep of a foster care or something, so you’d be given to another, hopefully better family. Your father was and still is a piece of shit who couldn’t care less that you were gone. If anything, he was relieved to be free of the burden of having to deal with you. You’re given a new name and everything. You don’t remember your biological family. When Chris grows up he tries to find you but can’t and then he gets put in jail for four years. But then when he has to work for the 11th street kids gang on Project Butterfly they’re able to use their resources to find you and turns out you’re kinda coincidentally dating Adrian who you may or may not know is Vigilante.

11. You tend to be clumsy and reflexively say, “Fuck me!” whenever anything even minorly inconvenient happens like you accidentally cut yourself while using a knife, trip over something, bang your knee or elbow against something, accidentally knock something over, stun your toe, etc. but Adrian, your boyfriend, doesn’t quite understand that it’s an expression or figure of speech so he’s just like,

“Now? I mean… I’m down if you really want to, but we’re at work/in the middle of a mission. Shouldn’t we take care of that first? Unless you want a quickie, then I can…”

“Adrian, what are you— Oh. Oh! That wasn’t an invitation for sex, I just did something stupid and it hurt.”

“Oh… Oh yeah, that makes sense, no, yeah, that’s cool, that’s cool.… Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No, it’s not that serious. Just a bruise or flesh wound. An ice pack or band aid will do, if I even need that. But I mean, since you asked…maybe later? Once we get home? If both of us still have enough energy by then.”

“Sure. Yeah, no, I mean…”

What if during the mission you go on together, Adrian is finally able to fulfill his dream of killing someone with a chainsaw and he’s so elated and pumped up on adrenaline that the two of you have sex to celebrate the success of the mission and that Adrian finally got to kill someone with a chainsaw?

12. You’re an Amazon (whether you’re Diana’s actual biological sister or not is up to you), but despite your proficiency in every single other category when it comes to fighting with swords, shields, hand-to-hand, rope, etc., you could never master how to shoot a fucking arrow from a damn crossbow. You’ve practiced for years and years but, to your shame and embarrassment, always kept missing your target. You don’t know what you’re doing wrong. You’d blame it on the wind at first, but it has to be something wrong with you. Well, to fulfill one Amazonian tradition, whether or not you’re a Princess, you must learn to shoot a flaming arrow through a ceremonial ring, which will happen on the eve of your sister’s coronation (or some other big and important event, like the Amazon Games). It's symbolic for lighting an eternal flame. Either Diana is going to do it with you, but she doesn’t have to practice because she’s already perfect, or you have to do it for some reason even though you’re younger than her. You’re dreading what you imagine will be your impending failure and public humiliation, until Adrian surprises you with appliances he’s saved and set up in the backyard. He teaches you how to shoot a crossbow and it’s like that scene from Princess Diaries 2.

“That's enough flaming ones for now. Are you sure I didn't burn you?”

“Of course you did. Look at his coat.”

“No, no, it's very minor. You just sort of seared the sleeve. Look.”

“Sorry.”

“Ready?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Take your stance.”

“Ok.”

He puts his hand on your shoulder to adjust you. “Elbow down. Just a bit. Use your mouth as an anchor.”

“Excuse me?”

“Touch your mouth. Good. Relax this hand. And breathe in. Release.”

You hit your target. Bullseye.

“Oh.” Did you really do that? It’s hard to believe.

“How did that feel?”

“Wonderful. Wonderful.”

You’d kiss him right then if you didn’t have witnesses.

#vigilante x reader #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x you #adrian chase x you #adrian chase x y/n #vigilante #adrian chase #vigilante peacemaker #peacemaker #vigilante prompts #peacemaker prompts #random fic ideas #fic ideas #pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these #I’d love to read it

10 notes · View notes

afvall · 3 months ago

Text

Whumptober day 1! Race against the clock

Nathan's T.O. is terminal :( and the whump wave starts in Oceania, baby!

Very mild body horror cw? It's really only alluded to happening in the future. I'll still tag it though❤️

Some sex jokes are made as well❤️

First x men fic, be mean!

Also ness is still dead in this one 💔

And title from the last unicorn!!

---

How can anything that is going to die be real?

---

Even awesome half-metal telekinetics from the future weren’t immune to the human body’s failures. Wade knew that he was the perfect candidate for all the cruelties the world had torn into his mind and body, the trauma and the cancer and the slipping mind, he was meant for all that. He was doomed for this life ever since he was born, the second he entered this cruel world he knew it was cruel and that that cruelty would stay with him his whole life. But he felt, in his cancer-ridden heart, Nathan wasn’t meant for this. Whatever it was that made it fine for Wade to suffer but not Nate beat him, whatever intrinsic value that differed between them wasn’t really something Wade could define and point to, but he felt it was there, and he felt that there was something far more hopeless and depressing in Nathan’s suffering. Maybe it was the way his smile lines interrupted smooth skin instead of indented and marred flesh, or maybe it was the way he’d managed to save his wife and daughter’s life, even if they were so many years apart from one another, maybe that was what made Nathan’s suffering worse than Wade’s.

Wade ran his thumb across the thin, tentacle-ish metallic string which crawled its way up Nathan’s collarbone, a strike of lighting which didn't vanish from the flesh toned sky it had impressed itself across. Nathan swore under his breath, the skin surrounding the metal intrusion tinted slightly redder than the rest of him. Wade understood that pain, the constant, ever present pain, that faded into the background eventually except when something put it under a spotlight. Whether the spotlight be from a flare up or from a time like this, as Wade drew his hand away from the fresh and tender metal-filled valley.

“Y’know, the tentacle sex alien STD or whatever isn’t as cool when it's killing your future boyfriend” Wade’s voice rang out, sounding more melancholy than he’d intended.

“Where’d you get tentacle sex from?” Nathan huffed amusedly, bringing one of his arms around Wade’s waist slowly, as if they had all the time in the world to love another, as if Nathan wasn’t being consumed by the T.O. quicker than his telekinesis could handle these days.

“Have you read issue sixteen of Cable & Deadpool? I get that the authors going for more of a movieverse vibe, especially since it's far more contained than all the convoluted comic bullshit, but i really do think that Fabian Nicieza gave us something special there” Wade’s inane fourth-wall shattering rambles would usually help him calm down a bit, diffuse a far too emotional situation when he needed it, let him soften the blow of all the bad shit that happened to him and the people he loved with humour and his general insanity, because if he let himself feel all the devastation and loss in his life in its entirety, he’d be a far more broken man than his marred and spoilt skin let on.

Nathan sighed as Wade’s nonsensical prattling concluded, pressing his body against Wade’s and now wrapping both his arms around his waist in a way far softer than all his hardcore 90’s action porn comics would ever let him be. Wade’s arms ran up Nathan’s back, one sliding over the corded metal muscles and the other over softer yet still battle-torn skin. The world was so quiet here, in their apartment, in spite of the sounds of the road and street seeping into the drywall, and Wade would keep it like this forever if he could. Quiet. In one anothers embrace. And that little pocket of time could protect Nathan from the virus which consumed his body. Protect Nathan, the idea would be funny if it wasn’t for the disease running over his flesh and wrapping itself around his organs, and the mental image of the T.O. invading Nathan’s innards made Wade remember the scans of his chest displaying the red sections of where his cancerous tumours were eating away at him. And how he’d lost Vanessa. And how he was going to lose Nate now, too. The only people that saw past the mangled flesh and unrelenting quips and comebacks to the person inside, who’d stand so raw and exposed under their love.

“It’ll take years, Wade, for this to get the best of me. I’ve been controlling it since I was young, it just gets more aggressive as it grows with me.” Nate’s head was tilted down by Wade’s neck, words pressing into the ruined skin. For a moment, Wade imagined Nate as a little kid, already battling the virus every moment of every day of his life, and thought, certainly, Nathan didn’t deserve that.

“I wanna be with you forever” Wade says like Nate wouldn’t eventually go back to his present once he’d fixed all he could in the past. With a time limit on his save-the-world shenanigans, this might just be Nate’s forever, giving every last bit of himself to the world in this time before he’d have to go, ensuring something better for his family.

Life is a series of trainwrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness. This break would be spoiled by the unrelenting and sickening pain which seeped across Nathan’s skin and the knowledge it would all come to a very body-horror-ish end, and body-horror was Wade’s thing, but he didn’t want it to be Nathan’s. He wished Nate could just parade that sexy robot arm around forever, but his forever was coming to an end. Wade would watch Madame Web on repeat while having to cut off his balls with craft scissors for all of eternity if it was in exchange for Nate’s health and comfort, yet unfortunately no cosmic being has presented the opportunity to him yet.

“All good things come to an end, but that doesn't mean they never happened, and that doesn't mean you can’t enjoy them while they last, Wade. How about instead of wallowing in our pity for one another, we can have a beer and watch TV before bed. Sounds like a plan?” alright Nate, you got me.

“Sounds like a plan” Wade pretended that the metal under his palms and across Nate’s back didn’t make his chest a little tighter than usual as he heard those words, and kissed Nate softly.

#whumptober2024 #no.1 #race against the clock #x men #fic #body horror #cablepool #Cable #nathan summers #Deadpool #Whump wave starts in Oceania

6 notes · View notes

chintara · 2 years ago

Text

Lance VLD Fanfic Idea:

Remember that time when the wormhole destabilized? (Yeah I know this is used a lot, but if you got a better idea do it!)

Lance is spinning out of control, plummeting towards empty space at dizzying speeds. All he remembers is purple electricity, his team yelling in confusion, then shooting out of the ship at his current trajectory.

“Come on baby,” he grits out through clenched teeth, white knuckled as he works to help Blue equalize. “We got this, I got this, it’ll all be-”

Why did no one think to put seatbelts in the lions? Lance pushes up from his spot on the floor, kneeling to see what stopped his uncontrolled spinning. Neon lights flash over his view screen, and a sign on his left depicts an alien woman (maybe, he really doesn’t want to judge) made from lights, leaning back on a pole, tail “swaying” as the lights flash, and her four arms sensually flashing across her body.

“Please, don’t tell me,” he stands to get a better look, bellow him sprawls a metal city, flashing lights, fireworks, brightly colored aliens, and most worrying; more stripper adds topping buildings and floating outside doorways. “Pidge will never let me live this down.”

A couple things

Lance can’t get blue back online

This place is deep into the empire so there aren’t Voltron friendly

A brothel mother takes lance in

He starts as a server, but he spends so long there he needs to get an apartment

Stripping gives him good money

A blade of mammora finds lance, reports to kolivan

Team comes for lance, there was a time dilation (1 month lance = 1 day team)

Lance is there for a little over a year (12 1/2 days team)

Lance rejoins team, and uses his new skills to complete undercover missions, lipstick missions, and even trains some of the blade

This all makes Shiro uncomfortable, but lance is 18 so he can make his own decisions

Keith secretly loves it and when lance and him start dating, lance takes full advantage of his skills

Pidge loves to bring it up in front of Shiro and lance joins them in embarrassing their leader

Hunk spends time researching alien stds and acts as lances muscle on missions

Allura is hesitant about sending Lance on these missions at first (she still sees him as immature) but soon realises how much lance matured and the insane amount of info he can get from these missions

Coran briefs lance about alien anatomy and cultural beliefs before missions, and treats lance when things get too serious once, vowing to do anything to keep his adoptive son safe

Maybe a couple assassinations when he unlocks a pistol on his bayard

* Free for anyone to use, as long as I am credited *

#free fanfic idea #vld #voltron #voltron fanfic #lance vld #lance voltron #keith x lance #lance voltron fanfic #lance fanfiction #lance mcclain #exotic dancer lance #exotic dancer lance AU

38 notes · View notes

misslisamiray · 7 months ago

Text

Took me a little longer to get this chapter up than originally planned, but here's Chapter 4 of Down With the Rickness!

Newest chapter is also up on FanFiction dot net and Ao3, and I will share those links shortly.

Beth was sitting in her car outside St. Equine’s. It was still dark, but the sun was now beginning to rise. She checked the time on her phone. 5:45 A.M. With a sigh, she drank some of the extra large coffee she was holding.

“At least the sunrise is pretty. Not pretty enough to be up this fucking early, but pretty just the same. I wonder what’s going on at home. How Dad’s doing. By now, that transforming sickness must have cycled through at least a few more diseases. Morty’s there to take care of him. Oh, and Jerry too, of course. And Dad’s as tough as they come. I’m sure they’re fine. Still, I wish I knew more about these things.” Beth said to herself.

After a few seconds of thinking and a bit more coffee, something occurred to her, and she corrected herself, “Wait, maybe I know more about this than I think.” She grabbed her phone again and quickly dialed a familiar number.

“Hello?” Space Beth answered instantly.

“Hi. Hope I didn’t wake you. It’s stupid early here, and I have no idea if it is where you are, too, but we have a bit of a situation here on Earth.” Beth began to explain.

“Situation as in alien invasion? Situation as in Dad woke up some monster that’s been sleeping beneath the planet’s surface for a few centuries? Other? I need details. What happened, and how is it Dad’s fault?” Space Beth inquired. She was in her space station apartment orbiting Earth, and was studying a wall of weapons, ready to choose the correct ones for whatever mission her other self was about to describe.

“Actually, he didn’t do anything, per se. He’s sick, and he says it’s nothing to worry about, but I can’t help thinking that means I should worry more.”

“I wouldn’t. The way that man gets around, it’s doubtful this is his first intergalactic STD. He’s probably only even mentioning it to brag. And if that’s not it, then I assume he’s just more hungover than usual.” Space Beth scoffed.

In spite of herself, Domestic Beth laughed a little before replying, “No, it’s not that. Well, maybe a little of the second one, but that’s not the main issue. What do you know about Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease?” Space Beth raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

“I know that if Dad’s telling you that’s what he’s sick with, he’s lying to you.” she answered flatly.

“What?! How can you be so sure of that?”

“1, it doesn’t exist anymore. Dad, well not our Dad, but you know, a version of him – eradicated it almost 20 years ago. 2, even if it were still around, humans were never one of the species it was contagious to.” Space Beth explained. She then asked, “Out of curiosity, what kind of symptoms was he trying to blame on *Snort!* Mimicking Disease?” She was clearly amused by the situation.

“Well, all I noticed was a lot of sneezing and a nasty cough, like he has a bad cold…because that is exactly what he has, isn’t it?” Beth facepalmed as she came to that realization. Her badass sci-fi counterpart burst out laughing.

“Just to clarify, are you laughing at him, or at me for believing him?” Beth asked.

After taking a few more seconds to get herself under control, Space Beth answered, “A little of both. Naivete is not normally a quality I admire, but it’s cute on you. Mostly, I am laughing at Dad thinking he could pass off a cold as Gloppydropian Mimicking Disease.” She barely held back another wave of laughter.

“Seriously, what was his plan with that, and how did he expect to explain when the symptoms never changed? Why is he faking having an alien disease it is literally impossible for him to have, to hide having a cold?”

“I do not have answers to any of those questions. I do know Summer was onto him, and that’s why Dad sent her off with a huge list of errands like… going to Space Walmart.” Beth answered, wishing her coffee were wine instead. Space Beth had started laughing hysterically again.

Once she’d recovered her composure, she asked, “You want any help?”

“When I thought this might be something serious, yes. Now that I know without a doubt that it isn’t, I don’t want to waste your time. Dad, Jerry and Morty can handle this on their own for the day.” Beth replied.

“I wasn’t planning to drop everything and run to Earth to bring Dad chicken soup. But maybe Summer could use a hand with that errand list? You said it was long. I’m not doing anything today. If I go split the list with her, she’ll get home to keep an eye on the guys faster.” Space Beth offered. Earth Beth nodded appreciatively.

Back on Earth, Morty was walking back to Rick’s room, announcing, “Good news, bad news time. Good news is, I found a thermometer, and this almost full bottle of cold medicine. The bad news is, it’s expired by like, two years. But the internet says it’s still safe to take. It just maybe won’t work quite as well. Or it might work too well, whatever that’s supposed to mean? People on this one website were arguing about it, and it got pretty heated. I guess people really will be assholes to each other over anything online, huh? Then there was this one guy just screaming in all caps about how viruses aren’t real in the first place…”

Morty’s rambling cut off as soon as he saw Rick. Now dressed in only his boxers and a stained tanktop, he was sitting in the middle of the bed, two blankets wrapped haphazardly around him. He was currently taking a blood sample from his left arm. There was a microscope in his lap, and he was surrounded by petri dishes and empty vials.

“For fuck’s sake. Rick, what do you think you’re doing?” Morty asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“I had an idea while you were gone, Morty! If I shrink you down and inject you into my bloodstream, you can negotiate some kind of peace treaty with the virus. Or just, y’know, nuke it. Obviously I’ll *Achoo!* send you in armed to the teeth.” Rick exclaimed.

“What?! Rick, no. I’m not doing that.”

“I figured you’d say that. Truth be told, I like the nuclear option best. It’d be quicker and more effective. But I admit, it might hurt a little more than I’m willing to deal with today. So, fine. Negotiation it is. *COUGH!* Obviously, I’ll have to make the germs sentient first. Otherwise, what good is talking to them going to do, right? That is going to add some time, but it should only be a few extra minutes.” Rick continued to rant. He removed the blood sample needle from his arm and emptied the contents into one of the petri dishes.

“No! You said yourself you can’t think straight when you’re sick, and this proves it! Making your cold germs sentient so you can inject me into your bloodstream to talk them into leaving you alone? Do you hear yourself, Rick? Of all the cornball, low budget sci-fi TV show ideas… It’d be different if you were like, dying and that was the only way to save you. But we’re not doing all that over a cold! You’re gonna take some medicine and go to sleep until it’s time to take more, and, ummm, whatever else normal people do when they’re sick. Got it?”

Rick looked back and forth between his grandson and the project in front of him a few times, thinking it over. Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he grabbed his portal gun and used it to send the microscope and other equipment back to the garage.

“Fine! We’ll do this your way, Morty. *COUGH!* But I still say my way would be cooler.” he reluctantly agreed, scowling at Morty. He wrapped the blankets tighter around himself and pulled his knees up to his chest.

"That's more like it. Okay, Rick. Here you go." Morty sighed. He carefully filled the medicine's accompanying measuring cup to the top line and tried to hand it to Rick.

"I don't want it." Rick grumbled, waving it away.

"Seriously?! Why not?" Morty asked, exasperated.

"It looks gross. I'm too stuffed up to tell, but it probably smells gross, too. And I know it's gonna taste like shit. So no, I don't want it." Rick explained, stubbornly turning his head. Morty barely held back a scream.

"Are you kidding me?! I thought it was gonna be something about this stuff being inferior to anything you'd make, so you were like, insulted by it. But it's just that? Of course it's gonna taste bad. Doesn't all medicine? Just swallow it quick and get it over with." He held the cup in front of Rick, who shook his head and continued refusing to take it.

"Of course this would be the one thing in the whole damn universe you won't drink. Rick, come on! It's for your own good. Stop acting like a 4 year old and take it!" Morty argued, climbing onto the bed and shoving the small cup in front of Rick's face. Rick opened his mouth to argue further, which Morty took advantage of by quickly pouring the medicine in before the old man could react.

Furious, the second he'd swallowed it down, Rick began sputtering, "Ugh, that's even worse than I thought it would be! *Cough! Cough!* What the hell, Morty?! Not cool! You can't force strange liquids down people's throats like that!"

"You think I enjoyed any part of that?! And don't be so dramatic - alI I did was make you take some cold medicine. Also, there's no way that's the most disgusting thing you've ever swallowed." Morty pointed out.

"Well, if nothing else, I can't argue that part. Still, that shit is foul. Yuck." Rick complained, still looking disgusted. He grabbed his flask and took a swig to wash away the taste. Morty considered saying something about that not being a great idea, but quickly decided it was a losing battle he wasn't interested in.

Instead, he said, “See. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Rick just glared at him again, so Morty continued, “I’m sorry it’s gross. But that medicine should help you feel better. And that’s what we’re trying to do, right, buddy? Get you back on your feet.” An indignant shrug and sniffle was all he got in response.

“You uh, you need anything, Rick? If you’re good and just gonna sleep, I might *YAWN!* go back to bed, too. Or I can hang out here if you want.”

Rick thought it over before saying, “Morty, g-give me that medicine bottle.” Morty handed it to him, figuring Rick wanted to read the ingredients, maybe get a sample to synthesize more. Or see for himself just how expired it was. After giving the bottle a quick once-over, Rick proceeded to chug the rest of the contents.

“Rick, no! What the hell?! You can’t do that! Stop!” Morty yelled, trying to take the bottle back. Of course, it was already empty at this point.

“First you want me to take this disgusting medicine, now you don’t want me to take it? *ACHOO!* Make up your mind, Morty! I’m in no mood to try and decipher mixed signals today.” Rick snapped, shivering badly. He was still cold even with the two blankets, and the medicine did taste absolutely terrible. He quickly drank the rest of what was in his flask to get rid of the taste. Morty’s look of horror and disapproval increased.

“Not like that, Rick! You’re not supposed to take it all at once! It’s dangerous! Aw geez, do we know the number for Poison Control? That cannot be good for you, and… what am I saying? If anyone else pulled a stunt like that, they’d definitely need to go to the hospital. But it’s you, so it’s fine. Probably.” Morty answered, going from panicked to weary as he thought about the situation and who he was dealing with. Rick just shrugged, clearly not sharing Morty’s concerns.

#rick and morty #rick and morty fanfic #rick and morty fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #down with the rickness #sickfic #rick sanchez #morty smith #rick c137 #morty prime #beth smith #space beth

3 notes · View notes

clearlyaginger · 1 year ago

Text

I hope everyone who "open carries" their stupid little pistols in public gets a gd std or a tapeworm or anything else uncomfortable. Fuck you.

"Ooo it's mah righhht" "ooo if therrr's a robbery ima b a god dang hero" you're gonna get someone killed you self righteous tool. You think because you have your own gun you're gonna stop the robbery and everyone's gonna thank you and shake your hand? Here's what's actually gonna happen:

Robber: give me all of your money. I am pointing a gun at the cashier while intermittently waving it at other customers to keep them still.

Cashier: this is the company's money, not mine, so there is no physical way I could care any less. Here is every coin and dollar in the register. Have a nice night.

Robber: gg, I am leaving now without harming anyone because this went so smoothly. Bye-bye. I am still pointing my gun at you just so nobody tries to stop me.

Some Stupid Motherfucker: well hold on now sonny you just stop right there and put the bag down, I'm drawing my pistol with a trump-pence sticker on the holster (seriously) and now I'm pointing it at you.

Robber: you scared me bc this wasn't in my plan, now I've shot the cashier and I'm pointing the gun at you.

Some Stupid Motherfucker: that's a darn shame but I'm arrogant so I still think I can win this and get the money back, and make a citizen's arrest so I'm gonna keep my own gun up and hold the Robber here instead of letting them go and saving the cashier.

Robber: now I'm freaking out. I probably started shooting wildly before ducking into cover, hitting at least one other person before everyone scattered.

Some Stupid Motherfucker: I'm firing back, and because I'm not a professional hitman, John Wick style, I probably missed. A lot. Now there's broken glass everywhere and I might have hit somebody through the window. I wasn't paying attention.

Robber: I'm gonna fire off at you a bunch and make a run for it.

Some Stupid Motherfucker: I shot at you as you were trying to run away with that money that was probably for your sick mother, and I hit you in the back. Now you're dead, the cashier's dead, at least one other civilian is injured or dead, and the money has been recovered. I'm a hero.

What should have happened:

Robber: give me all of your money. I am pointing a gun at the cashier while intermittently waving it at other customers to keep them still.

Cashier: this is the company's money, not mine, so there is no physical way I could care any less. Here is every coin and dollar in the register. Have a nice night.

Robber: gg, I am leaving now without harming anyone because this went so smoothly. Bye-bye. I am still pointing my gun at you just so nobody tries to stop me.

Some Stupid Motherfucker: I'm not gonna do anything bc I'm not a moron.

Robber: *gets away, maybe caught by police later, maybe not*

Cashier and other customers: *not dead or bleeding out*

Store: *is intact*

Other employees: *don't have to clean up broken glass and their coworker's blood*

Company: *has insurance*

Some Stupid Motherfucker: *is not hated by the family and acquaintances of the deceased* (for that specific reason)

Also, every time some poor bastard in customer service sees someone walking in with a gun on their belt, they tense up wondering if that Stupid Motherfucker is gonna shoot up the place.

Moral of the story, if you open-carry and we are not in a zombie or alien apocalypse, you're a dick.

#gun #guns #america #i hate this country #politics #gun violence #customer service #retail

1 note · View note

obscure-reference-girl · 2 years ago

Text

Masks and Misunderstandings Chapter 2

Pairing: Pavel Chekov/Leonard McCoy

Warnings: Swearing (because it’s Bones),

Word Count: 2331

Summary: Leonard thought that a nightclub where you had to wear a mask was idiotic, but he humored Jim and accompanied him to the club during shore leave anyway. After Jim fucked off into the crowd of dancing bodies without so much as a ‘never you mind’, Leonard went looking for him and found something unexpected. Meet unexpected: sexy, young, blonde...and if he reminded him a bit too much of a certain Russian navigator he wasn't going to linger on that thought.

Chapter Summary: Leonard deals with the aftermath of the previous night. He gets teasing from Jim, an STI test from Christine, and guilt as a special present from himself. He also find out through the gossip mill (AKA Jim Kirk) that he wasn't the only one who got lucky on shore leave.

Author’s note: Thank you so much to everyone joining me on this wild ride!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45899593/chapters/115759018#workskin

The next morning Leonard woke to the sharp chime of his door, rolling over to look at his alarm clock with a groan. He should have been awake almost a half hour ago. They were leaving dock today and he had paperwork to get to. The door chimed again and he briefly considered taking out a phaser and shooting it. He knew exactly who had come to bother him.

“Go away Jim,” He groused, hearing the telltale click that meant Jim was taking no heed and was using his captain’s override to open the door. “God damnit Jim, have some decency.” Jim came striding into the room looking positively chipper, the door sliding shut behind him.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he crowed. “Bonesy, Bonesy, Bonesy. What am I going to do with you?”

It was obviously a rhetorical question but bones couldn’t help but respond with a sharp, “Maybe leave me alone to start with.”

“Now Bones, that wouldn’t be responsible,” Jim demurred. He was enjoying their role reversal a little too much. “I couldn’t find you at the club last night. I only had confirmation you made it back alive when I got back to the enterprise and the computer informed me you were in your quarters. It seems like you got up to much more fun than I did last night disappearing like that. I know you don’t trust me enough on my own to have just left.” Unfortunately Jim had a point. Len would never have left Jim at the club under normal circumstances. In fact, he barely remembered his return to the enterprise. When he couldn’t locate the mysterious man anywhere in the club, all the life had seemed to slump out of him and he somehow made his way back to his quarters on autopilot.

“Now,” Jim continued with too wide a smile, “It’s my job to drag you down to Nurse Chapel to be poked and prodded and declared free of alien STDs. But at least I let you sleep in.”

“How magnanimous of you. Now get out, I don’t have any alien STDs I was with a human.” The words were out of his mouth before he fully realized what he was saying. Jim stopped short.

“Wait, you really did fuck someone last night? Good for you Bones. God, you never do that. She must have been a knockout. Damn shame I didn’t see her first.” Jim was rambling, but he didn’t miss the way Leonard looked down ever so slightly at the word ‘she’. “No, a guy! Bones you haven’t been with a guy since what, college?”

Leonard climbed out of bed and started tugging on a uniform over his boxers and t-shirt - thankfully it seemed he had been present enough the previous night to shower and change before crashing into bed - and Jim now seemed to be registering the lack of Len’s impairment.

“Fuck, you’re not even hung over are you? You did that sober? I’m proud of you man.” Len could tell that the fucker actually meant it. He wasn’t trying to be patronizing. That was fine. Leonard was patronizing himself enough for the both of them. He couldn’t believe that he had actually had anonymous, unprotected sex in a public venue. That was Jim’s schtick. He was done dressing and finally noticed that Jim was carrying a paper bag.

“There’d better be breakfast in there.” He threatened. Jim just smiled back at him, knowing that threats were Len’s way of showing affection.

“Have a sandwich,” Jim replied solicitously. Leonard took the proffered breakfast sandwich wrapped in a napkin and started wolfing it down as he set off down the corridor, Jim trailing hurriedly behind him.

“So who was it, you really have no idea?” Jim wheedled as they entered the blissfully empty turbolift and were ushered towards the med bay.

“None,” Len replied shortly. “Not a member of the crew though.” At least he could rest assured of that. Except he wasn’t sure that he actually wanted to. He had felt such a strong connection to the mystery man of the previous night and as much as he knew it was a good thing that the man wasn’t a member of the crew, a part of him wished that he was, just so he could see him again.

“You’re absolutely sure?” Jim pressed.

“Why? Is there something you’re not telling me?” Len asked, suddenly suspicious.

“No,” Jim shrugged. “Just an idle thought really.” Len decided to leave that for later as he swallowed the last bit of his sandwich and exited the turbolift setting off down the corridor towards med bay. Jim caught up with him again easily and passed him a bottle of water as they approached the sliding doors. He took a few gulps and passed it back with a firm look at his friend.

“You are NOT coming in,” He stated, leaving no room for question, “Get your ass back on the bridge where it belongs and get this tin can in the sky before we’re late for our next mission.”

“Aye-aye boss.” Jim gave him a mock salute. “I can confidently leave you now that I have escorted you down here,” he paused and gave Len a sly look before continuing, “where Nurse chapel is waiting for you.”

“Jim-“ Len started, but Jim cut him off.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her any details, just that she should be expecting you for a checkup and to report directly to me if you failed to make an appearance.” Jim turned and hustled off down the hall. Len just rolled his eyes and entered medbay with a groan at the bright lights. He quickly found Nurse Chapel working on a padd in her office. He stalked into the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Leonard! What has gotten into you?” She jerked her head up to glare at him. “Jim said to expect you, but Christ give a girl some warning.” Poor thing, she had no idea how awkward this was about to become.

“Sorry Christine.” He sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands.

“You better not be here about a hangover, or I’m going to kick your butt.” When he didn’t respond Christine continued. “Don’t make me lecture you Leonard. Lord knows we get enough of it with this crew.”

“Ineedafuh STI paneh” he let out in a rushed breath into his hands.

“You’re going to have to actually say that to me and not your own epidermis Leonard.” He lifted his head to look woefully up at her.

“I need a full STI panel.” He clipped out through gritted teeth.

“You’re kidding.” She barked out on a sharp, short laugh. It was cut short by the look on his face. “Oh god, Leonard, you’re- you aren’t kidding.” Dawning horror bloomed across her face as she came to the realization. “Oh shit, Leonard, I’m sorry.” She immediately switched into nurse mode and Leonard had never felt quite so grateful for her friendship.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leonard shrugged her off. “Jim’s been enjoying himself at my expense since I woke up. To be fair, I deserve it.”

“I imagine he has been rather enjoying this rare occasion.” She chuckled. “But you don’t deserve anything and I don’t want to hear that again. Should you have been safer, more mindful? Well yes. You of all people know what’s out there. But is it normal and human and not the end of the world? Also yes.” She grabbed a hypo and drew a quick vial of blood. As she inserted it into her tricorder, she turned back to him with a look of friendly care that made Len’s heart give a squeeze. “Do you want to talk about?”

“No.”

“Because this must have been a singular event to make Mr. Safe Sex wind up sitting here.”

“Just an anonymous hook-up at a club on a pleasure planet, nothing more to it. Classic Jim Kirk Special.”

“Ok then.” She conceded and turned back to the tricorder. It beeped gently and she gave a satisfied nod at the read out. “All clear. You will need-”

“To get tested again in two weeks, yeah yeah I know” He cut her off.

“I know you know. Just make sure you actually do it. I will hunt you down Leonard McCoy.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He said before turning serious again. “Thank you Christine, really.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t.” They both chuckled at that and she busied herself transferring the tricorder data into a medical record on a pad.

She saved the file and closed out of it. Before she turned it off, he caught a glimpse at the file she had been working before he interrupted her. Pavel Chekov. Shit, what was the kid in for this time? It seemed like he was in the medbay every other week with broken bones or second degree burns. At the rate he was going, Chekov was going to beat the captain’s record for most lacerations requiring a dermal regenerator in a single year. Len blamed it on his penchant for experimental engineering. That and his penchant for stupid heroics on away missions. The kid was too good for this world. And too attractive to be constantly under Leonard’s nose, but that was beside the point.

“Chekov was in this morning?” He asked, trying to school his voice to a tone of typical doctorly concern. Just because he thought Pavel’s smile could outshine a dwarf star didn’t mean that the rest of the ship needed to know.

“Oh,” She replied absently. “Yes he was. Don’t worry Len, he’s perfectly fine.”

“Why would I be worried?” He asked with a scowl. She just shrugged in response while shooting him a far too innocent expression. Maybe he wasn’t quite as good at hiding his feelings as he liked to think. Fuck.

Leonard met up with Jim later for lunch. What could he say? He was a glutton for punishment and a creature of habit. Jim looked like he was practically bursting at the seams, trying not to bounce in his seat as Leonard joined him at the table in the captain’s mess.

“What is it,” He asked, giving Jim a long suffering look.

“I can’t believe you missed it Bones. I swear, the one time you aren’t on the bridge berating me.”

“What is it?” Len asked again, pulling a bowl of chicken pasta towards himself and digging in.

“Apparently you weren’t the only one who had fun last night! Chekov could barely sit down!”

Leonard froze with his fork hallway to his mouth, not noticing the heap of cheesy noodles that slid off and plopped onto the table with a wet thwack.

“Excuse me!” Leonard…well yiped was really the only description for it. He really would like to say that he didn’t sound more like one of Admiral Archer’s beagles than a human, but that would have been a lie.

“I know right? It sucks having to be all professional.” Jim complained. Leonard had to stop himself from snorting.

“Professional-yeah right! Like this is being professional.” He scoffed.

“Oh come on! I can’t even press him for details!” Jim whined and it really sounded like it was physically paining him.

“You’re damn right," Leonard said, "that would be completely inappropriate.”

“But I want to know! I’m not just his captain, you know, I’m his friend too! But I have to be all mature and just take no for an answer.“ To be fair, Jim really had become good friends with Pavel during the two and a half years since he had become his chief navigator. The entirety of the senior crew had. It was virtually impossible to dislike Pavel Chekov.

“Oh you poor baby.” Len said. He knew first-hand how much Jim hated to be left out of the loop regarding his friends' romantic entanglements, but felt no sympathy for the nosy fucker.

“I really want to know! Chekov has pretty damn high standards. He wouldn’t just be taking it from anybody.”

“Come on Jim don’t be crude.” Leonard knew that this was asking entirely too much of the man. And it wasn’t as if he wasn’t plenty crude himself at times. But he really didn’t want to think about Chekov ‘taking it’ from anyone. ‘Anyone other than yourself’, his subconscious supplied unhelpfully. No, that wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t want Pavel Chekov to ‘take it’ from him. Len wanted to worship the younger man until he couldn’t remember his own fucking name. But he was possibly feeling just a little bit guilty about how roughly he had fucked the stranger from the night before. If the young man happened to have dark blonde curls and a similarly delectable ass…well that was neither here, nor there.

The similarities really were striking. Leonard might have actually worried that the mystery man WAS Pavel, but he knew that it wasn’t remotely possible for one very simple reason. He may not have been able to make out much about the other man’s features beneath his mostly full mask, but Leonard’s own features were barely obscured by the small piece of leather that he had been wearing. Anyone from the enterprise would have known exactly who he was and there was NO way that Pavel Chekov would knowingly want to fuck him. If there had been any doubt in his mind, he wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place regardless of his own desires. Or at least he wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have. No, he definitely would not have. He was a superior officer and it would be entirely inappropriate. Of course he wasn’t actually in Pavel’s direct line of command, and therefore there were no actual regulations against it…but he was still far too old for the kid.

“You know what I mean Bones.” Jim said, drawing Len’s attention from his inward musings.

“Unfortunately I do. Jim. Unfortunately, I do.”

#star trek alternate original series #mccoy/chekov #mcchekov #leonard mccoy #pavel chekov

1 note · View note

midamoulweek · 3 years ago

Text

midamoul week will run from sunday july 24 to saturday july 30

[image described in alt text]

guidelines:

tag your creations with #midamoulweek and/or @ me @midamoulweek so i can reblog them! —feel free to @ me again if you think i’ve missed your post! but i’m offline for decent chunks of the day so please give me at least 12 hours before you hit me up

all creations are welcome—art, fic, fanvids, meta, something i’ve failed to mention—whatever floats your boat!

nsfw content is fine but i won’t be reblogging or engaging with nsfw content from people i know to be minors

creators, please use your best judgment in providing content warnings and tagging nsfw content. on this blog i will be using the tag structure “#(trigger) cw.” nsfw content will be tagged #not sfw.

if you need something specific tagged, let me know and i will do my best to add warnings as needed.

on filling prompts: i am strongly of the opinion that if you start a project while thinking about a particular prompt, you absolutely get to consider the end result to be a successful fill no matter how off-track you’ve gotten. so please share your work even if you don’t think the final product fits the brief!

feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any questions or concerns!

ETA: if you finish a day 1 prompt on day 2 or day 3 or day 14 or whatever, please post it and @ me anyway! much like the prompts, the "week" is just a framing structure to get us talking. if you make something for the week, i'm sure we'd all love to see it no matter when you're able to get it done

prompts:

each day has two prompts + a bonus prompt pulled from the quotes section of my notes app. use one, two, or all prompts to get started!

day 1 (july 24): identity / family

day 2 (july 25): forgiveness / outsider pov

day 3 (july 26): regrets / cannibalism (survival or recreational)

day 4 (july 27): resurrection / kid-fic

day 5 (july 28): date night / fix-it

day 6 (july 29): afterlife / alternate universe (i’m thinking cowboys, aliens, dare i say old-timey explorers stranded in the antartic hinterlands? —but alternate timelines&canon divergence count as well)

day 7 (july 30): resilience / storytelling

quote prompts under a cut for length

day 1: [T]he act of imagination is bound up with memory. You know, they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and livable acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. ‘Floods’ is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.

—Toni Morrison

day 2:

"Somebody," said Jacques, "your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour - and in the oddest places! - for the lack of it."

—James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room

day 3:

You know what? I don't want to express myself. I don't want to sit in a room full of people and say... the P-word. I like being repressed. I am totally comfortable being uncomfortable with my sexuality. And maybe, just maybe, if everyone were a little bit more like me, we wouldn't have to have an STD fair!

— Annie Edison, Community (NBC)

day 4:

I had this habit for a long time: I used to get in my car, and I would drive back to my old neighborhood, the old town I grew up in. And I’d always drive past, like, the old houses that I used to live in. And I’d do it, sometimes late at night, if I was — when I used to be up at nights. [laughs] And I got so I would do it really regularly, for — two, three, four times a week — for years. And I eventually got to wonderin’, what the hell am I doing?

And so I went to see this psychiatrist — this is true! — and I sat down, and I said, you know, “Doc, for years, I’ve been gettin’ in my car, and I drive back to my town, and I pass my houses late at night, and, you know…what am I doing?”

And he said, “I want you to tell me what you think you’re doing.”

[crowd laughs]

So I go, “That’s what I’m paying you for!”

So he says, “Well, what you’re doing is, there’s something bad happened. And you’re going back thinking that you can make it right. Something went wrong, and you keep going back to see if you can fix it, or somehow make it right.”

And I sat there, and I said, “That is what I’m doing.”

And he said, “Well, you can’t.”

— Bruce Springsteen, introing a song apparently

day 5:

What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be

alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

— Richard Siken, “Landscape with Fruit Rot and Millipede”

day 6:

But, really, it's the most basic definition of "uncanny”—"unhomely”—that matters. The haunted house is precisely that which should be homey, should be welcoming—the place one lives inside--but which has somehow become emptied out of its true function. It is terrifying because it has lost its purpose yet stubbornly persists. Neither alive nor dead but undead, the haunted house is the thing in between. —Colin Dickey, Ghostland

day 7:

You’re old enough to understand that your father didn’t love you without being ridiculous about it.

—Tony Kushner, Angels in America

#midamoulweek #midamoul #adam milligan #ghoul spn #michael spn #midam

46 notes · View notes

butwhyduh · 3 years ago

Note

Bruce's "please don't make me a grandfather" jdbfndnfjfjf

He definitely worries about one of them getting someone pregnant. Especially when Roy ends up a dad, Bruce starts sweating and looking at his boys.

Oh god, Dick is prime have a kid age. Bruce starts researching Tamarean biology because can he even get Kori pregnant? Can she get him pregnant?? Wait, this isn’t the Alien movies. They almost get married and Bruce starts to relax. It won’t matter if they are married and happy. But they don’t. Then Dick starts dating Barbara and Bruce gets new grey hair. Commissioner Gordon starts shaking his hand at galas so hard that if he wasn’t Batman, he would cry. Bruce had the please wear protection, here’s a massive case of condoms, I will have them delivered monthly with no questions asked, conversation that scars both him and Dick.

Then Jason he starts to worry when he comes back to life because that little 15 year old that blushed every time Donna looked his way was definitely not getting laid. But Bruce doesn’t worry much because the only thing Jason is fucking is vengeance. Then he meets the outlaws and Jason is definitely eyeing Artemis and Bruce tries to start the talk way too late and Jason shuts him down with a growled “I already fucking know.” Then he meets the second team and Bruce has a midlife crisis because it’s Roy and Kori and they are definitely all fucking. Bruce went to college, he’s seen this shit before. And he has to worry about a second son getting the same tamarean princess pregnant and he feels bad but he also worries about Roy’s drug past and potential disease transmission.

Bruce now had monthly sexual protection of all kinds delivered that he probably has only a little less than a pharmacy and the delivery guys joke he’s running a brothel. Jason regularly steals boxes to give to the working girls and guys and folks.

Then Tim. He gave off mad virgin vibes before announcing to Bruce that his girlfriend was pregnant mid workout and Bruce almost drops a free weight on his face. Tim explains that it isn’t his and that isn’t any better. Are kids having open relationships nowadays?? Then Tim explains everything that he’s still a virgin but definitely knows how birth control and condoms work. And later Bruce feels bad but he’s actually sorta relieved that Tim has a boyfriend because he can’t get pregnant but Bruce worries about a Kryptonian partner. What if he breaks Tim?

Then with Cassandra and Duke and Damian he is close to a heart attack, especially with Damian talking about his fathers “carnal desires” that Bruce hires Dr Leslie to give them a thorough talk. At the end Cass raises her hand and asks what if they were gay and all three listen intently about gay safe sex. And now he’s worried about 6 people having unplanned pregnancies or STDs but also wondering if most are gay but that’s cool as long as they are safe and he buys even more protection including stuff tailored to lbgtqia people.

But yes, Bruce, despite being an atheist, prays that he doesn’t become a grandfather until his kids are in stable long term relationships and thirty. And maybe a little bit that maybe they could be a little gay because then pregnancy is off the table.

#bruce Wayne headcanon

263 notes · View notes

realcube · 4 years ago

Text

haikyuu!! boys dating you for a bet then falling hcs 💘

characters: oikawa, kuroo & osamu

tw// angst to fluff, swearing, sexual references - minor dni!

OIKAWA’S AND KUROO’S ARE AGED UP !

thank you anon for this request 😚

Tōru Oikawa

everyone on the team was teasing him for getting broken up with bc he was ‘too obsessed with volleyball’

he had finally had enough and made a bet with iwaizumi, matsukawa and hanamaki that he could get a s/o quicker than any of them

they accepted ofc but that’s when oikawa learned that hanamaki was already talking to a girl he liked which meant that it was a race against time for oikawa to find someone to date

in reality, he had no interest in dating atm but he had to do this for the sake of his pride

he settled on asking you out bc you were his lab partner for chemistry and even before the bet, he was making playful flirtatious banter with you but it’s not like he had any real feelings for you which meant that breaking up with you afterwards would be simple..right?

also, asking you out would be an easy win

and it was 🤠

oikawa won the bet and regained some confidence which meant he was now free to break up with you

buuuut y’all had only just started dating so he didn’t want to break up with you before the first date so he postponed the break up until after y’all went to the movies together

then the night came - he had just came back home for your first date at the movies, he took you to see an alien invasion movie and you said you loved it

he stared at his phone which was open on IMessage, on your contact; his fingers hovered over the keypad but the words didn’t come to him the way he expected

the more he thought about, he realised that you guys hadn’t even had your first kiss yet and he wanted to give you a sweet memory to leave you with before he inevitably dumped you so he decided to postpone the break-up again, until you guys had your first kiss

and since his messenger was open, he invited you on a second date to the park where you had your first kiss over a shared cone of vanilla ice-cream

honestly, he had such a great time on the date that in the moment, he completely forgot about the fact he had to break-up with you so here he was again, sitting on his bed and looking down at his phone glumly as he searched his brain for the right words to say

but when he allows his mind to wonder for too long, it always comes back to one thing

so figured that he’d hold off breaking-up with you until your first time and from there — depending on how good you are — he’ll decide whether he wants to dump you or keep you around just as a side fling

the day eventually came three months later, not that he was complaining though as he’s developed a lot more patience since he’s started dating you

you had just came back from a date at the bowling alley and something about seeing Oikawa in bowling shoes and a partially unbuttoned shirt was enough to make you go feral so as soon as you arrived at his house, y’all went for it

in all honesty, sex with you just hit different for oikawa

it was nothing like he’s ever experienced before

like it was kind, sensual and filled with mutual praise and he truthfully never wanted it to end but once it did and he was sprawled out on the bed next you, breathing heavily with your fingers intertwined, he realised that he didn’t want to break up with anymore

the last 4 months that you guys have been dating, truthfully was the best time of his life, like he feels so happy and genuine when he’s around you, there’s no way he’d leave you now

‘I love you, (y/n).’ he hummed, turning his head to the side to look at your peaceful figure laying next him - god, you’re beautiful

‘I love you too, Tōru.’

Tetsurō Kuroo

him and bokuto had a bet to see who could fuck more ppl in a month

the third year gym squad gc was confused but not too confused i mean this is kuroo and bokuto we’re talking about

akaashi, kenma and tsukishima were all disapproving of this idea for their own reasons

akaashi thought it was immoral while kenma and tsukishima thought it was just a ‘who can get an std first competition’

as for hinata and lev, shōyō had his bet on bokuto while lev was rooting for kuroo

kuroo was going to start his hunt for sex partners at the club tonight but he had already agreed that he’d do the business assignment with you tonight and since it was a partnered thing, he’d feel guilty if he opted out last minute

he sat on his bed while you took a seat at his desk, working away at the project while kuroo ‘supervised’

kuroo was bummed that bokuto was probably getting laid rn while he was stuck in his room doing an assignment- WAIT

you were here with him ( •̀ ω •́ )✧ and he was like..90% sure you had the thing for him soooo

he immediately sprung up from his bed and shuffled towards you, grabbing your hips to momentarily lift you up so he could pull you away from the project and onto his lap as he sat on his bed, tracing your jaw with his finger

‘time for a break~’ he cooed in your ear, massaging your thigh with spare hand, ‘only if want though, doll.’

xdfghj OFC YOU DID

consent = given ✨

kuroo = hard

your sex = destroyed

ass = red

you = overstimulated as hell 💅

if you started during the day, expect the sun to have gone down by the time y’all were finished

he offered to take you on a date so you both could do this again sometime and you said yes

but he reassured himself that you were only a hook up- definitely nothing serious- no feelings whatsoever

so a week later, he took you on a sweet, wholesome date to a carnival and you got railed afterwards 🥰

your next few dates went in a similar way until one fateful day where you were just..tired

neither of you really wanted to smash tbh, you were just happy laying in each other’s arms

and as time went on, you guys went on more dates where there was absolutely no sexual activities, just sweet intimacy

and he...... liked it

why did he like it???

you were nothing more than a sexual relief to him, right??

so why did he enjoy cuddling with you so much? shouldn’t he be fuckin you rn? but he didn’t want to...like he was lowkey vibin with you in his arm while watching modern family

then he looked down at you in his arms, the light of the screen highlighting your features beautifully

‘i think i might actually want to marry you one day.’ he blurted out, lightly tracing the bridge of your nose with his finger

this caught you off-guard so you looked up at him, an adorable pink blush dusting your cheeks, ‘really?’ was all you could think to reply

‘yeah.’

Osamu Miya

ofc it was a bet with atsumu ofc it was a bet with atsumu

‘who could get the hotter s/o competition?’ and suna would decide who wins

the twins had a month to get a s/o who was hot asf

so osamu asked you out in maths bc you were the most attractive person he kinda already talks too

you said yes as you sorta kinda maybe had a lil’ thing for him

however, he didn’t even ask you out on a date

in fact, he barely even talked to you after he asked you out until the day came where suna judged which miya twin won the bet

osamu did ofc

then he kinda forgot y’all were dating until one day you snapped him with the caption ‘???’

he was like ‘hey’

sorry i firmly believe he is the driest texter

anyway he felt bad for neglecting you for over a month so he said he’d make it up to you by taking you out to dinner

but he promised himself that dinner was only an apology and right afterwards, he’d cut you off

he was scrolling through his phone, looking for places to take you and although he wanted to just get take-out, even he knew that fast-food probably wasn’t a very romantic date idea

wait- he didn’t care about it being romantic- did he??

eventually he settled on an expensive restaurant bc getting you a take-away probably wasn’t a very good apology

so anyway he took you out and he actually had a pretty good time ^^

i mean, when you coincidentally ordered the same thing off the menu as him- he kinda caught feelings

osamu would definitely realise that he fell for you faster than oikawa and kuroo

just the way his hand just feels a pull towards yours when you’re walking side-by-side is a dead giveaway

so once the date is over and he dropped you off at your house, instead of breaking up with you as he planned, he simply placed a tender kiss on your forehead and smiled, ‘we should do this again soon.’

when he saw the way your face lit up and you squealed slightly, he knew he made the right decision

623 notes · View notes

thesfebinistmanifesto · 4 years ago

Text

waiting for the one

whew. so i started this blog to dedicate it to my sexcapades! i was so disappointed when i did not become the sexually liberated woman i thought i would be.

i remember around valentine’s day last year, i went out with a boy and we ended up going home together. he was beautiful and soft and i was attracted to him. we made out and it was enticing. and then when it was time to have penetration, we hit a wall. i remember biting my lower lip, imagining that if i just stuck this excruciating pain out for a minute, then the pleasure would come. and when i realised that i could not enjoy the experience, i gently pushed him off me. he feigned patience and kindness, but i’ll never forget the exasperation that hung in the air. i will never forget it because i have felt it many times. my sex does not allow men to get away with being thoughtless. my sex cannot be casual. it requires an interest in me, and the ability to pour into my well-being. my sex is emotional, spiritual work!

at the time, the work felt like a limitation. an inconvenience. i was so tired of feeling broken. so i thought maybe i had an STD. i booked an appointment with a doctor and i got all my tests done. nothing. i was upset. then my doctor started inquiring into my sexual history and we both came to the understanding that i might have vaginismus. and then she just left it there and told me i needed a pap smear.

now, loosely explained, vaginismus is when the pelvic muscles contract/spasm when there is vaginal penetration. this makes intercourse painful (if not impossible). it can be a response to sexual trauma, or a psychological thing. i know that i have had vaginismus for a long time and just never knew because when i tried to use a tampon at 16, it was a harrowing experience. i bought the smallest size and made multiple attempts with my mother’s counsel and it was just too painful.

there is something about not being able to provide penetration for men that makes you feel very useless as a woman. no matter how empowered you are, and how many ways you can critique the construction of masculinity, that struggle with sex can define you. i wanted to date. hell, i wanted to hookup. but i would end the night feeling like a tease as i never provided the main event for the boys. even what the patriarchy calls foreplay would be a rushed, half-arsed effort to be gotten out of the way so that a penis could penetrate my vagina. i walked around for a while thinking maybe i was asexual. or broken. feeling like i would not find love in this life because i would never be able to provide intercourse for men. of course, some of them would say that there’s more to sex than intercourse. that there were other forms of sex they enjoyed. but what often went missing in trying to pursue the sex i could safely enjoy, is the emotional scars that not being able to enjoy penetration left me. i never had the confidence and safety to embrace and pursue those other kinds of sex. to see what i could enjoy giving, because my past experiences had framed intercourse as the most important form of sex. and my inability to provide it as the ultimate sexual failure. a source of shame and distress. so all kinds of sex made me extremely anxious. even masturbation felt like a waste of time.

when i understood what was wrong with me, i truly sank into the loneliness that sex embodies for me. men always try to “negotiate” their way into penetration. maybe you’re never wet enough. if i eat you out for all of three seconds, maybe you’ll be ready. so, there i was in a sexual situation with a guy. a million thoughts running through my mind as he tried to figure out if i’m just not attracted to him. i realised that this dynamic was the loneliest i would ever feel. living with a pain that is little known, and men who only care for their orgasm, i should be alone. there’s no point to sex or relationships for me. it always ends in an alienating sense of self-loathing as i fail once again. and yet another man reducing my pain and discomfort to an inconvenience.

but now, i have begun to masturbate again. solely for the purpose of mapping out my pleasure. doing what feels good to me. and realising that it is a worthwhile pursuit. when i live on my own, i am going to get vaginal dilators and try to stretch my vaginal walls with patience and love. and when i do have sex with someone, it will have to be with someone who is generous and whole enough to help me feel safe with all that happens inside of me. because my body has made it physically impossible for me to have thoughtless sex. ha!

60 notes · View notes

pallasperilous · 4 years ago

Text

Occursus

Castiel/Dean Winchester Gen/Teen, 4341 words 15x20 coda AO3 version “The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” Cas says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.”

Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two. “Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes. “It was a poor analogy. I apologize.” “So what’s a better one?” Castiel drums his fingers for a second. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.” “Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

It’s half past midnight by the time Dean gets another run at Cas.

Granted, what the fuck does half past midnight even mean here, where time is as free as tap water? Why does anybody even bother? For all it matters, Dean could set his watch to eleventy minutes past twenty o’ nope and still never miss last call.

Then again, somebody felt it necessary to invent the idea of Tuesday in the first place, and Dean’s not gonna volunteer himself for the task of replacing it with something better. What’s important is that he’s survived (or rather, he hasn’t survived) a battery of poignant moments and tearful reunions. He and Sam hugged out burdens registering in the triple digits. They even had a little fight, pretty much for the fun of it, while Ellen fucking Harvelle watched them over the bar with her eyes shining. She still charged them, though.

Right at the beginning of the party Dean and Castiel had their eyes-across-the-room thing, followed by the same magnetic, exhausted embrace they’ve shared on just about every plane of reality now. Dean supposes he could ask Cas for a nickel tour of the Empty just so they could hit for the cycle, but he’d really rather not. Sam let them eke out a few gruff, tear-choked monosyllables before diving in, sweeping Cas up in a bear hug and laughing like a fucking kid. Dean doesn’t push it, because it’s been longer for Sam, after all. Or something.

And now it’s quiet, just the jukebox and the clink of glasses back in the kitchen, a few folks murmuring in booths. It might be dark outside, it might not; it’s waiting on Dean’s opinion before it commits to anything. And so is Cas, who is standing in the warm glow of the jukebox, hands in his pockets.

Dean walks up, leans against it, bottle still dangling from one hand.

“C’mon, sunshine. I’ll show you yours, you show me mine.”

Cas looks up and into Dean’s eyes with the wary, elegant patience of a deer. “What is it that you would be showing me, Dean?”

Dean gives him a long, languid blink and bites his lip, and Castiel lags for half a second before rolling his own eyes. “I see death hasn’t refined your sense of humor.”

“Nope. Guess the billionth time aint the charm.”

Cas remains stonefaced, which means a corresponding you dumbass blush starts crawling up the sides of Dean’s neck. The jukebox switches records like it’s making a suggestion.

“I’m gonna sit down outside,” Dean says. “C’mon and sit down with me. There’s a patio somewhere, right? Ellen was always talking about adding one out back. No way she hasn’t bossed somebody into buildin’ it.”

“There’s a patio,” Cas says, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Heaven’s patio is pretty nice; twenty square feet, some scattered picnic tables, fences covered in ivy and string lights. It still smells like fresh pine boards. There’s even a fire pit, which seems kinda bougie for the Roadhouse, but hell with it, it’s warm and pretty, and since when did pretentious people get to lay claim to “a hole with a fire in it”? There’s no moon overhead, and so the Milky Way is giving them the full monty — the runnelled spine of it, the ribcage packed with galaxies.

“Are they all alive?” Dean asks. The warmth from inside leaks out of his collar, wisps away.

“Who?”

Dean points up. “The stars. They always make a big deal about how most of the stars you can see from Earth have been dead for millions of years by the time we get the light from ‘em. That still true here? Or is everything on auto-renewal?”

“That’s a very complicated question,” Cas says, not looking up, only at Dean. He does that a lot, Dean knows, but it turns out to mean something different than what Dean had always assumed, which was ironically pretty similar to what it actually meant, but was reassuringly unactionable and therefore unfuckupable.

“I’m a very complicated guy,” Dean says.

Castiel smiles at that. “I don’t actually know the answer,” he admits. “And it would take an extremely long time to investigate. There are some other things I’d rather do first.”

“What, you can’t just call the kid for directory assistance?”

Castiel lets a good-humored sigh. “Like many young people these days, Jack prefers to avoid the phone.”

This is a solid riff, and Dean respects it. He picks the table closest to the fire and takes a bench and Cas sits next to him, instead of opposite. Dean thought he managed to break him of this habit a few years ago, but here all things are made whole again.

“So what,” Cas says, without a single molecule of playfulness or seduction, “is it that you want us to show each other?”

“Yeah, I was…it was a dumb joke. But I mean it, just not in a ‘playing doctor’ way.”

Castiel frowns, tightens his lips; the firelight throws a fluttering shadow across his face.

“I mean…Christ.” Dean takes a medicinal slug of his dwindling beer. “I don’t really look like this anymore either, right?” And he gestures at his usual shitshow personal presentation, which death has also noticeably failed to refine.

Castiel frowns, smoothes his hand across the surface of the table. “This is a corporeal world, Dean. It operates on a different set of rules, but your body here is no more of an illusion than it was on earth.”

“Seriously?” Dean ponders a second, squints through the dim light at his fingernails, at the high-resolution grime contained therein. “Jesus, that sounds like a lot of work. At least compared to Holodeck Heaven.”

“It is. But we didn’t build this place to be a...a…doorprize. It’s a real world,” Castiel enthuses, looming forward. “It’s the one that should have been created for all of you in the first place.” He pauses, glances down. “For all of us.”

Dean shrugs. “Okay, so no holograms. I’ll keep all that in mind next time Charlie tries to convince me to go skydiving.”

Castiel snorts, but not in pure aggravation, so Dean feels like he’s finally got a point on the board. “What I’m sayin’ is…physical or not, this place has different rules, right? So could I look at you without my eyeballs exploding? The…you know, the angel parts of you. Not just your vessel,” and Dean fwippies his hand at Cas to indicate that true beauty is contained within and Dean is completely indifferent to the fact this dork-ass alien managed to bodysnatch a guy who’s never dipped below an 8.5.

“It isn’t a vessel anymore. We can create our own bodies, now.”

“Peachy,” Dean clips, because that shit is a little late coming off the line.

Castiel sighs. “You could see me in that form without coming to harm. But you should know that I don’t consider it any more a reflection who I am than this form. Not anymore.”

Dean rolls the bottle towards him, nudges a knuckle. “You’re a real boy now, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Castiel says, and smiles a smile so small that Dean would need a microscope to figure out if it’s pleased or pained.

So Dean thwacks the bottle down on the totally-real table and claps his totally-real hands. “Well then let’s go. Hit me with that angel weirdness. If we’re gonna do this, I gotta taste all thirty-one flavors.”

Castiel smiles a little more convincingly, but it still doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are really only the two,” he says, and holds his palms out to the warmth of the fire.

“Great, then we’ll be done in time to catch Letterman. Then if you’re good maybe you can help me shimmy out of this thing.”

Cas cocks his head. “Out of which thing?”

“This super real heavenly meat-suit, dude. It’s not fair if only one of us gets naked. Peep show has to go both ways. I see your angel-face, you see my soul.”

Cas looks stricken, like Dean is asking to suck on his toes next to a playground. “I mean, unless that’d fuck you up,” Dean adds.

“No,” Castiel replies, a little absently. “It wouldn’t fuck me up. But it…wouldn’t really accomplish anything, either.”

“What, no soul kink? That’s bullshit and you know it. You love this crap.”

Castiel replies, “Your soul is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” with the easy confidence of a regular latte order. With the same uncanny, 2 Blessed 2 B Stressed face he had when Dean plowed Ruby’s knife hilt-deep into Jimmy Novak’s sternum, that he had when the Empty collapsed him like a carcass in an acid bath.

That face shuts Dean right the fuck up, because it sends him skipping backwards into that fucking basement, where his phone is buzzing and the gritty concrete chill of the floor is seeping through his jeans into the useless meat of his legs and leeching into the hot, wet channels of his piece of shit heart.

Turns out you can work up a good little panic attack in heaven, which seems like a significant oversight.

From a million miles away he feels Cas’s warm, dry palm slide over the back of his hand –– there’s a ring there now that Dean lost down a motel sink drain ages ago, is nobody spotting continuity errors here?—then Cas’s hand tightens on his and it feels like a Xanax kicking in. (The good kind, direct from the hot nurse with the little paper cup, not the kind you get in a from a shady burnout at a truckstop, that’s been ground up with baking soda or benadryl and carefully remolded, as if you could possibly give that much of a shit when you’re freaking out bad enough to buy Xanax at a truckstop.)

Point being, he calms the fuck down.

Cas has good hands. They can do a lot of impressive shit, and they look nice doing it. They don’t look like –– they’ve never looked like –– they belong to somebody whose main job is destroying people, places, or things. They’re hands that how to play the cello, or make tables from reclaimed wood, or give soapy, encompassing handjobs in the shower on cold evenings.

“It’s been years, though,” Dean rasps, not looking up yet. “I was a kid when you got me out of Hell, Cas. I’ve done a lot of shit since then. Maybe souls get stretch marks.”

Castiel’s hand tightens on his, clamps it down on the table. “I’ve always been able to see it.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbles, but Cas keeps on going –

“The only time I couldn’t see any part of your soul was when I was without grace, and I promise you that was one of the greatest deprivations imaginable.”

Dean snorts, looks away, but his hand is still on lockdown. “Worse than going hungry, huh?”

“Much.”

“Hey, what about Sam? Or, hell, fucking Donatello. They both were both walking around minus their creamy filling, and you didn’t say boo.”

Cas shrugs. “I can’t see their souls under ordinary circumstances.”

“So what, mine’s just extra loud, or day-glo, or what?”

“It’s both of those things, but that isn’t why,” Cas answers, and the boy is downright wry.

Dean tugs his hand out, raps his knuckles against the wood. “Okay, so stop bein’ coy and tell me before I get a complex. And if you say it’s because of love or some shit, I’m bailing to Rowena’s.”

“You infected me,” Cas says.

“Uh,” says Dean.

The fire pops and a log shifts; Cas glances over at the kerfuffle, absently lifts his fingers to his chin like he’s looking for an old scar. “In Hell, when I retrieved you…I had to grip your raw soul. I was meant to wear a gauntlet, so I wouldn’t be burned.”

Dean snickers. “You’re telling me you were supposed to be wearing a soul condom. What happened, you get too excited and forget to suit up? It’s okay, I know I’m a lot to take in.”

Castiel purses his lips. “No, I was properly armored. But my arm was torn off in combat shortly before I reached you.”

“Ouch.”

“Ouch,” Cas agrees. “I didn’t have time to retrieve the arm or its protection from the pit, so I had to grow a new one very quickly.”

Dean really should’ve switched to whiskey before starting this. “What, you didn’t pack a spare?” He wheezes.

“Ordinarily, yes, I would have had the resources, but I was equipped very lightly for that mission. It was a raid, not a siege. You understand the difference.”

“Sure, yeah, you left your emergency arms in the trunk. So you just popped out a new one. No big.”

“It was a big. Your soul was close enough that it forced me to grow a human arm, instead of a much quicker and more powerful extensor.”

“Okay, uh,” Dean pinches at the bridge of his nose, “there’s a lot to unpack there.”

“What part of it confuses you?”

“I dunno, the bit where apparently angels are I guess heavenly octopuses,”

“The plural in the Greek is octopodes,” Cas interjects, not without pleasure.

Dean glowers. “Or the part where you can apparently swap in different drill bits,” Dean continues,

“Mm,” Cas notes, careful not to open his mouth,

“Or that I, like, accidentally bullied you into growing a person arm,” and Dean pauses for breath here, which Cas evidently takes as permission to dive in with more Planet Earth commentary.

“The natural environment of the human soul is a human body,” he says. “Humans have yet to meet a foreign substrate that they don’t immediately attempt to colonize. My form in Hell was not an exception.” Then he shuts his mouth very deliberately and gestures back to Dean like his mic is going live in three, two.

“Or the bit where my soul gave you some kind of STD?” Dean finishes.

“It was a poor analogy. I apologize.”

“So what’s a better one?”

Castiel drums his fingers for a second, listens to the fire pop in its little cage. “It’s more like…the way a parasitic jewel wasp injects a cockroach with venom, and transforms it into a willing host for wasp larvae.”

“Holy shit are you ever bad at this,” Dean says, with that signature brand of fond horror he special-orders just for Castiel, Angel of the Gourd.

“What I’m trying to avoid saying,” Castiel sighs, “is that you rubbed off on me.”

Dean nods. “Yeah. That’s fair. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to say that around me, either.” He lays a couple little pats on Cas’s hand. “Lookit you, though, seeing around that corner. I’m proud of you, man. That would’ve totally flipped your breaker back in the day.”

“Just one of the many ways you have reshaped me, Dean,” Cas says, with warm sarcasm.

“Alright, so you rawdogged me, I whammied you. Chocolate, peanut butter, peanut butter, chocolate.”

Cas’s forehead wrinkles in skepticism. “I still prefer the cockroach. But some part of your soul injected itself into one of my more exposed frequencies. Under different circumstances, I would’ve stopped and excised the affected area before it spread, but. I was being pursued, and the mission had taken much longer than any of us anticipated.”

“Us? Thought it was just you down there.”

Cas looks vaguely offended, straightens and folds his arms like he just remembered he’s giving a deposition. “No, of course not. Michael assigned sixty-six angels in eleven groups of six, each escorted to the field by a seraph. We struck simultaneously at six different areas in perdition. From there we dispersed to individual targets –– to cause as much chaos as possible in order to help obscure the object of our mission, and to increase the odds that one of us would actually find you.”

“And you were the lucky winner.” Dean pushes down a touch of sick shame at the thought of it — he’d been coiled up like a snake around somebody else’s torment, anesthetized by it. It was one of the random rags of infernal time where his own pain decreased in proportion to how much he dealt out, and that was the closest thing Hell had to a Friday night.

“I was,” Castiel nods. “I took some liberties with my assignment,” he adds, squinting. “I flattered myself that I shared a special affinity with The Righteous Man.”

“That guy always sounded like kind of a cunt to me,” Dean notes. “You know, not withstanding the fact that I’m him.”

Castiel shrugs. “I found you, and I did what was necessary to save you, and my siblings did what was necessary to save me.” A little falter enters his voice. “Only twelve of us returned from that mission.” Cas looks up, out, away. A dove coos somewhere nearby of the Roadhouse; did it have a run-in with the windshield of an eighteen wheeler one day and show up here, Dean wonders, or does heaven make its own birds from scratch? That’s gotta be a softball compared to whether Betelgeuse is still open for business.

Castiel waits until the bird shuts up, then says, “Of those twelve surviving angels, I personally murdered nine, in everything that followed.”

After a moment Dean says “Yeah,” with practiced neutrality. He’s got some similar tallies, written in Sharpie on the back of his eyelids.

Cas sighs and his attention comes back down to the table. “By the time I received the authority to restore your soul to your body, the infection had spread almost past the point of containment. That’s why I resisted taking a vessel at first. I worried that occupying a human form would speed up the process.”

“Hey now. I thought you showed up naked because you thought I’d be one of those special people,” Dean quips, “Who can handle angel stuff without going all kibbles ’n bits.”

“That was only a partial truth.”

Dean tips the beer bottle in salute. “You’re a real special flavor of asshole, Cas.”

“So I’ve been told. I was right, though. When I took Jimmy as a vessel, I contracted — condensed — myself very severely. The infection had a much shorter distance to travel to reach all of my extremities, and a human form was the most hospitable environment possible.”

“You got a raging case of the Deans.”

Cas’s head kicks back in a laugh that kinda surprises them both. “Yes,” he says, grinning. “I did. I was very displeased, and very concerned I’d be found out and judged unfit for duty. And I very much was. Unfit, that is. Though I was not found out.”

“C’mon, never? You went rogue on the company.”

“Uriel suspected. Naomi certainly detected it later, as did Metatron. But in the moment, no. The Host’s attention was focused on the Apocalypse ahead, not on debriefing a mission that was considered a success. After the Cage was closed, I had too much influence to come under that level of scrutiny.”

“Hmh.” Dean realizes he’s been systematically picking down the label on the beer bottle, so he sets it on the ground before he gets sticky little shreds everywhere. “So I gotta ask. My little souvenir, the handprint. That’s where you grabbed me, with your lil…Mister Potato Head human arm?”

“It is.”

“If I’m the one who infected you, how come I’m the one who got burned?”

“My hand didn’t burn you.”

“Well, it ain’t fingerpaint.”

“Your own soul burned it, as it flowed out of your flesh and into mine. It burned until the moment when I finally released you from my grip. My hand healed itself; your arm did not.” Castiel gives a thin scoff. “I hadn’t planned to leave you interred.”

“Oh, no? Well that’s nice to hear, you know, a decade after the fact. I still have nightmares about that shit.”

Castiel winces. “It’s no excuse, but I was in a great deal of…the equivalent of pain. It took an immense effort to break off the inflow of your soul, and when I did manage it, I was thrown quite a ways by the recoil. By the time I recovered enough to return, you were already looting a gas station,�� He finishes, dryly.

“Yeah, well, Dad didn’t think much of leisure as a virtue. Also I was thirsty, because I’d just crawled out of my own grave.”

“And I was distracted, because I’d just fought my way out of the inferno while being digested by a demented human soul.”

“You wanna call it even?”

Cas lifts his brows. “If you don’t mind.”

There is a long, dark breath, during which their little smiles fade.

“So, all that,” Dean says, because he’s a fucking coward.

“All that,” says Cas, because he isn’t.

Dean clears his throat. “That means you can see my soul-stuff 24/7, huh?”

Castiel slides one leg up onto the bench, shifts to sit astride it, like he’s maybe about to deliver an after-school PSA on the Real Deal About Drugs. “I can always see myself, and extensions of my self. And since your soul made itself into an integral part of me…I can see you.”

“I take it that’s not exactly in the manual.”

“No. I didn’t entirely understand it at first — for a long time, I convinced myself it was because you were designed to be a celestial vessel, and that I had been destined to save you from Hell.”

That thin, acidic feelings starts to rise up in Dean’s chest again. “Do you…” A dry swallow reflex grabs his throat. “Hm. Fuck.”

“What?” Cas asks, scooting forward. An angel. Scooting. What a world. “You can ask me anything, Dean. I hope we’re both past being offended.”

“Have you ever thought that. This whole deal. Our…thing.” Dean lets out a breath. “The way you feel about me. The way I feel about you.”

“Do I worry that its only basis is our shared material?”

Dean licks his lips, works a jaw muscle, forces out a nod.

Cas frowns, sets one elbow up against the table, then lets his head tip to the side. “Why do you love Sam?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I get it, he’s my brother. We got shared material, too. But we’re not talking genetics.”

“Genes were the initial basis of your love for Sam. But you share half as much material with Adam. Do you love him fifty percent as much as you do Sam?”

“One, love doesn’t work that way and you know it, and two, fucking of course not. I barely know the guy, and what I’ve seen didn’t exactly blow me away.” Not that the poor dumb kid ever really had a chance. “Sam’s Sam, he’s earned it a million times over just by bein’ him.”

“Then you understand.”

“But Cas, man…I…” Dean laughs, which is an abbreviated form of screaming, “I treated you like shit.”

Cas nods. “You did.”

“Okay, the rules say you’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“But the balance remains in your favor. Dean, are you genuinely afraid that you — care for me…” and Dean can hear the FCC live-bleep in that one, like does his total cowardice have a special color Cas can see with his soul-o-vision? “Only out of some compulsion?”

“No,” Dean says, to the great surprise of his frontal cortex, which was busy kicking the shit out of itself. “No,” he says again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, that that answer actually came out of him and entered the living air between them.

Then the wave is rolling towards him and he enters that slim moment of body-physics where you either take a lungful and commit to diving under the break, or you kick out against the undertow, arch your back to meet the blow, and let yourself be flown all the way up to the waiting shore––

“No,” Dean says, “I love you.” And he chokes up a little, first at the release of saying it, then at how much of exactly jack-shit it changes anything so what was he even scared of, and then at the look on Cas’s face: how he’s frozen. Like that dog from that video, the one that loved tennis balls so goddamn much that his owner bought him a thousand fucking tennis balls and dumps them out all at once and the dog absolutely stalls the fuck out, just seconds on end of underspecced dog-brain hang time before he finally snaps back to reality and loses his absolute shit scrabbling all over the porch.

Castiel comes back online with a little choking noise of his own, and a kind of awkward scrabble for Dean’s hand.

“I have for a long time,” Dean continues, because apparently he’s continuing, “I’ve loved you for fucking ages, Cas. In people years, anyway, I’m sure that mean’s fuckall to somebody who’s a zillion––”

“I don’t,” Cas says thickly, “really give a damn about the age difference, Dean,” and cracks into a chuckle.

“So how come you never knew it?” Dean asks, feeling freedom turn into a hunger or something like vertigo. “If you can see my soul, how could you not know?”

Cas shrugs, a bit helplessly.

“Seriously,” Dean laughs, “how did I manage to hide that shit so well? Sammy found every nudie mag I ever shoplifted.”

Cas shakes his head. “You’ve never actually been able to hide anything from me.”

Dean scoffs. “C’mon, man. I snowed you plenty, or else we woulda had this conversation dirtside a long time ago.”

“Whatever I missed, Dean…it wasn’t because you succeeded at hiding it,” Castiel says, softly. He takes a slow, shaky breath, and meets Dean’s eyes with a smile. He lifts a hand to Dean’s face, bone and flesh on flesh and bone. “I just loved you enough to look away.”

It’s a long time before they go back inside. By any measure. {AO3}

#spn fanfiction #spn 15x20 #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #bless you all for your sexy and angsty coda fics please enjoy this massive wodge of angel lore wankery dating back 11 seasons

110 notes · View notes