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rocket-sith · 4 months

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Q GOT TIRED OF MAKING ROBINHOOD LARPS SO HE DECIDED TO OPEN FOUR DIFFERENT CHRONO-TRIGGER SAVE FILES AT THE SAME TIME INSTEAD, but only one needed further progress (non-linear progress of course), two were already complete but were saved in the wrong place and missing a sidequest (lol time being non-linear what?), and the fourth was a big ol' sparkly decoy, a glitched file of nonsensical bits n bites, alluringly named Picard, that nearly crashed the game and took everything with it while you were busy looking for continuity in all the wrong places.

Behold! Season 2 of Picard, AKA Facepalm Theater Presents, AKA "Dude, where's my Tapestry?"

Love it, hate it, WTF it, or some should-be-impossible combination thereof - but somehow, you feel it. Are you in one or both of those last two camps? Yeah, me too. But I think I might have a theory. And no, it's not bunnies. (I rambled a bit about this somewhat in the A/Ns and comment thread of one of my fics a few weeks back, but the proper brain dump belongs here).

Season 2 of Picard is neither episodic, NOR is it one major overarching story with various sub-plots. It's FOUR overarching major stories, well-conceived in theory (mostly), but thrown together as gracelessly and incoherently, with the same abundance of panic and lack of transitions as the night-before-it's-due school essays we're all so painfully familiar with perpetrating. (Admittedly, a lot of us got pretty good at being zero-hour coherent by the time we got to high school, but apparently, this skill does not translate to timetravel via stellar slingshots and demigod trolls.) So that leaves us with -

Picard Season 2: A Trek in Four Acts Loosely Disjointed and Sloppily Squished Together Parts. Feast your eyes, rub your temples, and buckle up.

CRIS AND THERESA'S WILD RIDE: (Love story, social commentary, classic Trek shiz focused on the more touching/emotional side of temporal shenanigans.)

RENEE PICARD'S TIME HEIST AND EVEN WILDER RIDE: (Classic Trek shiz, classic time travel fuckery, focuses on the more action-packed side of temporal shenanigans.)

THE RED HERRING, AKA THE ROCKY HORROR PICARD SHOW:

Supposedly the main plot, but really a completely ridiculous distraction that's the narrative equivalent of dumping sand in the snowglobe and violently shaking it up. Captain Picard takes a wrong turn at Albuquerque and has to go do the Timewarp (again) in some creepy old castle so he can be magically transported back home. Yeah, okay buddy, just don't forget the teddy and the TP rolls to throw around the theater.

Cut this entire arc out, and the season improves substantially in both enjoyability and coherence. (I said what I said.) If any of the four major threads don't belong, don't move the story forward, and only serve to muck things up - it's this one. It's not so much an arc as a collapsible squiggly line that looks like it might go somewhere but never does. Great if you're drunk with a shadow cast and some floorwalkers. Not so great if you're actually trying to figure out WTF is going on.

TAPESTRY RIDES AGAIN, AKA GRAND THEFT BORG QUEEN LOS ANGELES: And now for the main event, which was literally announced as such in one of the episodes, by two people breaking the fourth wall who were probably the LAST people anyone was expecting to break the fourth wall: Seven and Raffi. So naturally, we viewers took it as a couple of throwaway comments and cute banter to lighten the dark/intense mood of all the other crap. Yeah, oops. We can't say they didn't warn us.

At one point the two of them are joking around, talking about how they're the main event, and all these other side stories are just side stories, but...yeah. Looking back after S3, that was not a joke, and it goes above and beyond the call of foreshadowing. It was a flat-out tell, and with ALL the potential fourth wallbreakers in S2 - Q, the Borg Queen, The Traveller, the Long-Lived Alien Bartender With Multiple Mysterious Powers, The Temporally Flexible Romulan Spy Of Dubious Origin - if somebody's gonna spill some futuristic tea, it's gotta be one of them, right? RIGHT? Nope. Seven and Raffi snuck in the back door.

Basically, the Grand Theft Borg Queen arc was Tapestry, but for Seven (and Raffi and Jurati to an extent). Jurati and Raffi were, IMHO, initially intended to be pieces on the gameboard, not players, but they made themselves into major players. To what extent Jurati's involvement in outsmarting the Borg Queen was meant to be a challenge for her by Q, or part of Seven's trial that Jurati unwittingly assisted in IDK, and ditto Raffi's major role in all the aforementioned drama, but either way - Seven finally accepting herself the way she is, Borg hardware and all, was a direct, not even subtle parallel to the TNG episode Tapestry.

The most direct link is the scene in Tapestry where Picard realizes he'd rather die as his true self than live as his other-universe self who "corrected" the "mistake" that led to his artifical heart. Seven accepted that she would rather live as her Ex-B true self than die as a fully organic human, and in doing so, passed the test.

And Jurati and Raffi played no small part in that realization, and passed their own tests in the process - with Raffi embracing Seven (literally and figuratively) while resisting the urge to manipulate Cris out of choosing his own fate, and Jurati outsmarting and merging herself with the damn Borg Queen to protect humanity and her friends. Seven passed the Q Troll test with flying colors, and Raffi and Jurati did too - giving us Elnor and a benevolent Borg Queen in the future as a result. (Q is totally one of those teachers who gives his students rewards for passing the Big Test.)

Fire up S2 of Picard, get your Fast Forward button ready, and follow the Grand Theft Borg Queen: Los Angeles arc and ONLY that arc. Skip over every single thing (other than Q monologing, as that's the one common thread) that doesn't have Seven, Raffi, and/or Jurati. You'll get an entirely different experience. It's Tapestry, but for Seven, and with different tests/opportunities for Jurati and Raffi. (And they all pass).

Now do it again, but FF anything that ISN'T either part of the Renee Picard Time Heist plotline or part of Cris and Theresa's story. You'll get a classic Back to the Future, MCU, Reset the Timeline, Poke-An-Alternate-Reality's-Doom-Destination-With-A-Stick style story. And they all pass too. Cris and Theresa get their happily ever after and punt the primeline forward through the next generation of temporally paradoxical, adopted and found family members.

As for the BS at Chateau Picard? It's all a decoy/charade. So come in costume, bring plenty of shit to throw, and chug the wine. You'll need it.

#Star trek picard #Star trek fan theories #Seven of nine #star trek q #raffi musiker #agnes jurati #cristobal rios #The Borg Queen #Borg fuckery #jean luc picard #star trek tng #Star trek tng episode Tapestry #text post ahoy

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sergeantsporks · 2 years

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writing request: hunter being comforted by camila + him being able to enjoy the rain, plus a little bit of protective big brother instincts over gus? :D/nf

“Hey, what was that?”

Hunter glanced over at Camila, tossing his old clothes into the washing machine. “What was… what?”

“Down in the basement last night. I didn’t want to bring it up in front of Gus, but…”

That wasn’t helpful. “…the broken snowglobe? I’m… I’m really sorry, it fell out of the wrapping Gus was fiddling with, we didn’t mean to—”

“No, Hunter, I mean… the kneeling?”

Hunter squinted. She HAD seemed uncomfortable with it. “…I… apologize?” he tried.

“Oh, I didn’t… you don’t need to say sorry, I just… was wondering why?”

“Why…?”

“Why you’d do it?”

“You provided us with shelter and safety. I was expressing gratitude. I just assumed—we are unexpected guests, I thought it was best to be polite. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No—Hunter, sweetheart, I already said you don’t have to apologize. It’s okay.” Camila measured a white, grainy substance into the machine. “How are you feeling? Sore anywhere? Cuts healing up alright?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes. Thank you, don’t worry, I’ve had much worse injuries, hardly even hurrrrrrrrttssssss hi.”

Camila had reached out towards him, but as he shied away, she withdrew her hand. “Sorry, I just… you’re safe here, okay, Hunter?”

“Oh,” Hunter said simply. He turned back towards the washer, even though he didn’t have any more clothes to put in. “Okay.” He gripped the top of the washer. “Okay,” he repeated, blinking rapidly, “Okay. Okay.”

“Ay,” Camila muttered to herself, “Creo que lo rompí. Hunter?”

“You promise?” The words escaped before he could stop them, and he flinched at the questioning tone.

“Yeah,” Camila said softly, “I promise.”

“Okay.”

Stop saying that, stop saying that, stop saying that!

“Thank you,” he managed, “Uh—that’s okay, right? Just saying thank you, no kneeling?”

Camila smiled. “That’s perfect. But you don’t need to thank me, not for this. I’m happy to help. And if you, or any of the other kids need something…”

“I’ll let you know,” Hunter promised, slipping out of the laundry room. He went outside, leaning on the porch railing. The rain was still coming down in torrents, turning the ground to sludge.

The door opened and closed, and Gus charged out, wearing a bright yellow jacket and matching boots. Hunter instinctively snagged his collar just before he ran out into the rain, yanking him back. “Whoa, careful!”

Gus yipped. “Hey!” he twisted around in Hunter’s grip. “Human rain, remember? We walked here in it.”

Hunter let go of the jacket. “Yeah, sorry. Force of habit.”

Gus took a running leap off of the porch, splashing down into a puddle. “WHOO!” He kicked up water. “This is never going to get old! C’mon, Hunter!”

“Mmmm, I don’t kn—”

Gus kicked another puddle, sending a wave of water up on the porch and soaking Hunter’s socks.

“Hey!”

Hunter stripped his already-soaked socks off and ran out after Gus, grabbing the branch of a tree and shaking it violently. Water scattered out of the tree and splashed all over Gus, who yelped. “AH! COLD!”

He kicked another wave of water at Hunter, but Hunter skipped backwards to avoid it. “Nice try. Can’t get me with the same trick tw—”

Gus appeared behind him, and dumped an old flowerpot full of water on his head with a snicker. Cold water crashed down on Hunter’s head, soaking him instantly. Hunter yelped and cringed, his shoulders hunching. “Cheater,” he sputtered.

Gus laughed, then fled into the house and safety before Hunter could react. Hunter squished his way back up to the porch, shaking his head to dislodge the water from his head. He leaned on the porch railing again, shivering.

It’s so cold.

Hunter reached out, feeling the cold raindrops sting his palm.

“I always liked the sound of rain.”

Hunter jumped as Camila came to stand out next to him. “Hi!” He settled back on the railing. “I didn’t want to go inside soaking wet.”

She handed him a towel. “Here.”

“Thank you.” Hunter toweled off his head and feet, and wrapped the towel around his shoulders. “It boils in the demon realm. The rain, I mean.”

“So I’ve heard. Sounds like it’s pretty dangerous there.”

“It is.” Hunter shrugged. “It’s not all bad, though. There’s a lot of good stuff that came from there. Like Flapjack. And Gus and Willow.”

“And you.”

“I’m pretty dangerous.”

Then again, so was Willow. Gus, too, if he had a mind to be. Maybe everything from the isles was dangerous.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not good, too.” Camila leaned on the porch next to him. “Luz was… happy? In the demon realm?”

“Oh. I…” Hunter scratched the back of his neck. “Luz and I… we weren’t on very good terms until recently. I, uh.” He coughed. “Ikindasortatriedtokillher,” he said in a rush, staring out into the rain. “Sorry.”

“I know,” Camila said evenly, “Luz told me.”

Hunter’s shoulders tensed up. “Oh.”

“That’s why I wanted your opinion. Of course her school friends will think she was happy, and will want her to keep going. But you became her friend during the worst of it.”

Hunter traced the grain of the railing. “Luz… Luz loves the Boiling Isles. And… she’s done a lot of good there. She saved me from Belos. Twice.” Hunter rubbed his coven brand. “If it weren’t for her, I would have died on the day of unity with everyone else, still trusting Belos to have the right plan.”

“I had her promise she wouldn’t go back,” Camila murmured, “But I’m starting to think that was too hasty. I can see how much she misses it, even only back for a day.”

“Yeah.”

Does she want to go back, though?

She thinks the day of unity is her fault.

“Do you want to go back?”

“Of course I do. I’ve lived there my whole life!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s home.”

Hunter twisted his hands around each other. “I don’t have a home. I… I thought I did. But that’s gone now. I just… the boiling isles is what I know. Or—well… I guess I don’t know how the Collector’s changed it.” He sighed, staring out into the rain. “I guess I don’t know what I want.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Hm.”

“No, you will,” Camila insisted, “It’ll be when you least expect it. But suddenly, you’ll just know.”

Hunter twisted his head to look at her. “You really believe that?”

“I do.”

#toh #the owl house #hunter noceda #camila noceda #asks #writing requests #toh fanfiction #my writing

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abyssmalice · 8 months

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She is being kind, and simple this year. Some of her specialty snowflake-shaped pelmeni, and snowflake-shaped candies. And perhaps the cutest little snow globe in the shape of a cryo slime, as well.

Even with all the luxuries she receives as a Harbinger, and all her bratty petulance for gifts, Tonia wasn't particularly expecting anything for the holidays. A strange, contradictory disconnect really - and so, instances where she gets proven wrong are equally strange, but never a bad thing.

In fact, the girl is happily accepting of the cutely-shaped gifts, already unwrapping one of the candies to eat within seconds of receiving them. As she pops one into her mouth - oh, sweet! And minty! And a little fruity...? But sweet and minty! - her eyes curiously but (with candy pacification) patiently watch as Tem unearths the last of the gifts. And that's when Tonia truly gets excited.

It's a snowglobe. A very simple one, round and fragile glass, snow swirling inside. The uniqueness comes with other details - instead of a house as is typical, there's a giant snowflake inside it, sparkling in prismatic colors with every tilt of the light. And—the shape. Slime shaped. Cryo slime shaped!

Needless to say, it checks off everything Tonia would like, and she reacts accordingly.

The globe disappears from Tem's hands in a heartbeat, reappearing in Tonia's hands, where she 'oo's and 'aah's over it, marveling at how pretty but super duper wuper cute!! the gift is. The faint radiance of cold doesn't go unnoticed either, even with her gloved hands - it makes the globe even more wintry, even more like a freezing cryo slime would be. A great enhancement of experience, and if the globe weren't already so well-receiced, it certainly would be now.

"I love it!" she practically screams, giggles and pure joy tickling through with negative zero of the girl's usual sense of restraint around vulnerable expressions. Tonia immediately proceeds to shake it around, watching the snow spin in violent flurries around the snowflake fixture with a smile.

"I'm going to carry it around everywhere." She nods agreeably to herself only. "Everywhere. It can join all my other snowglobes. And I'll make sure not to lose this one either!"

(At least, Tonia hopes she doesn't accidentally lose this one either. Losing her snowglobes was always an annoying if not disappointing incident, and considering Tem gave this as a gift - and it's slime shaped!! - even Tonia knows she absolutely, definitely can't mishandle this one, at least.)

#ic | (heard and loved);#snowtombedstar #(new hc: tonitoni's snowglobe idle now has a 25% chance of pulling out the cryo slime globe instead)#(also it is totally december 25 2023 when i am replying to this Absolutely)#queue | (the rivers of irminsul);

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krikeymate · 1 year

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For song suggestion things because this just came on shuffle and I’m sat here crying at 2am thinking about Tara.

Ethan Jewell - Snowglobe

I'm slamming you against a wall. Don't even talk to me about Ethan Jewell man. His music really enhances my depression. I listen to him all the time.

Snowglobe is SUCH a Tara song.

Imagine you're in a snowglobe, right? / And all these people keep coming and shaking you around / It's above, below you, and then you're on the ground, the snow flutters around / Searching for a soft place to land -> Tara feels trapped. In this town, in this family. She's stuck while everyone around her can just... leave. Her life, it feels like a circus act, a spectacle for people to gossip on. They're always whispering about her, about poor Tara with the hard life, with the shitty family. This is her childhood. She's protected, put in a bubble, a little isolated and only seen from afar. An accessory for her father, a trinket for her mother, something to be cherished by her sister.

The person stares and appreciates, but not for a tad / Bit later they begin to shake more violently, and you begin to trip less valiantly / And then it all comes crashing down -> As she gets older, pity becomes more questioning. People expect more, they want to know more. They want more from her. But she has no one to hold on to. No hand to help guide her through this, through growing up. Sam doesn't want to talk to her anymore, she's pulling away and she's always so angry. The world becomes a little darker, a little colder, and then Sam's gone.

You wake up in a cold sweat, it's 3 am, and you're still depressed / Why is this happening, where did I go wrong / Is God angry at me / Or am I just another sad song / Another sad, sad song /Just another sad, sad, sad, sad, song -> What did she do to deserve this? To be so alone. Was she not worth staying for? Did she drive them away? Why wasn't she good enough.

Cause here we are again in this endless fucking snow globe / Round and round we're shaken, stared at like an alien probe / The snow's overwhelming, defeating every sound / Please, giant human, can you just drop me and smash me to the ground -> Every day it's the same. Life just becomes a series of repetitive motions. Smile, pretend to be happy, pretend like the heart inside her chest isn't held together with tape. Go to school, laugh with her friends, come home to an empty house. She wishes it would just stop. That something would change. Anything.

#/mp #ask box #Scream #Sam Carpenter #Tara Carpenter #fandom music tag #why do I regularly trigger myself? because nothing i do matters. no matter what positive changes i try to instill it leaves me feeling empt #because it changes NOTHING. i'm still depressed. i'm still a loser with no future and no prospects. reliant on the people around me.#but the people around me don't make me happy. they just make me anxious and stressed. i have to put on a mask and pretend to be someone els #and i am so so tired #but anyway ya'll should really listen to this guy cause his music is a vibe and really just cuts straight through to your heart

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storkmuffin · 1 year

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I saw your "unhinged character bingo" post, and I gotta ask... Sweet pea?

Thank you so much for this ask! I love you forever.

As I filled this in I realized I don't know how this bingo works so I hope it makes sense?

explanation below

I have been writing Jughead/Sweet Pea fic almost exclusively ever since I started writing fanfic and one of them is past 168k words and uh halfway done (10 hr speech) (I'm so normal about them) (shake in snowglobe) (dissect under microscope) etc etc.

But punching walls screaming I hate you, go for a hug and get punched, angst, chomping picture, why are they like this, cradling gently in arms - these are all actually Sweet Pea feelings and behaviors in Canon. He's such a fun mishmash - packs the knuckle dusters to give Jughead the most painful initiation, challenges him all the time, lots of glaring, but then submits immediately (literally calls Jughead master TO HIS FACE), is violent in leather but then gets all upset when people call him thug, is willing to be the muscle but then is all about going to nice weddings as a pretty girl's date, is fine with being needy, crankily reads editorials of the local newspaper and bounces up and down when he’s happy. I wish he'd been given a better arc after s3 because there was a lot to work with.

#ask #riverdale #sweet pea #character bingo

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gorgynei · 2 years

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Hiii I just wanted to say that you're one of the only other people I've seen Understand Yasha like so much of the fanon interpretation of her makes me so uncomfortable. But she's soooo autistic and she's so trans and weirdgender and violent and I luv her <3 I'm so tired of seeing her only connected to/brought up in her relationship with Molly or Beau or what she can do for them like. Please....I'm begging....she's her own character....she's not just some pretty accessory that's only there to comfort her loved ones or be a passive housewife.

Also I read the preview pages of the comic and Yasha "my senses were overwhelmed" what in the autism.... SO excited for the full comic I'm foaming at the mouth waiting to finally get my little nd hands all over it 😈

Anyways. I love her she's the ultimate WeirdGirl (gender neutral) and my favorite character of all time and I want to carry her around in my pocket. Or put her in a snowglobe untethered and shake it. Idk wut ever you know what I mean hopefully 💙

Btw thank you for your autistic Yasha and transmasc Yasha drawings they are amazing and replenish my soul for REAL. Also if you have any yasha headcanons to share I'm very interested:)

Ok sorry for the super long message especially bc I'm on anon but. Keep up the good work sport 👍

ooa idk what else to say other than thanks and ur welcome (??) ;;w; this is so kind..... ill try my best to keep at it. salutes

i agree with EVERYTHING u said and YEA i was waiting to say it but her autism swag is So loud in the comic ^_^ (btw "what in the autism" is the funniest thing ever and im stealing it)

#whenever ppl send asks like this it makes me so happy. glad ppl enjoy my shitposting aa!!#askbox of inquiry #anon

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uhgoodmoni · 4 years

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Valentine Schmalentine | JJK

Summary: Jungkook and his best friend thought that the best way to spend valentines was with each other! What a better way to spend the sometimes dreaded holiday by making fun of it with your bestie! Their ‘anti date’ is more of a date than they think it is.

pairing: jungkook x female oc (for those who hate y/n :D )

warnings: - This is all fluff - teeny bit of angst - gets a little heated but I promise it’s just fluff

links: Ao3 wattpad

—

I giggle at the little presentation in front of me. Wow! I did good. Jungkook will wish that he’d get a girlfriend as good as me. I’ve prepared a disgustingly beautiful spread of treats and gifts for him. There’s no way I didn’t one-up him. He made the mistake of letting me host.

I decorated, the pink ribbons swirling down from the high ceiling. I baked, which I’m sure he’ll be expecting, but I’ve really outdone myself this time. Heart-shaped cookies, decorated with colorful sprinkles and pink frostings. Muffins with little paper hearts stuck in them. Of course, how could I forget chocolate covered strawberries. On the left of the counter was a shrine of gifts. A teddy bear. A card is written with absolute bullshit but a token of our friendship as well. Some chocolate boxes and I had found this cheesy snow globe that you can put pictures in. So I put myself in it of course. Bet he’ll love seeing that. And one gift that I am actually excited to give to him, is matching bracelets with little rabbits on them. Maybe I did a little bit too much. After all, this is supposed to be a joke.

His job is to bring dinner, so there is no way he can beat this. Not that it’s a competition, but it kind of is.

‘are you almost here?’ I type into our chat.

‘otw’

I roll my eyes, going to unlock my door, ‘being late to your valentines date isn’t very impressive’

He doesn’t respond, and I double-check the positions of the cakes on the counter. It has to seem overly perfect, like some white mom on TikTok put on the display. I smile, looking over my creations one more time, as I hear the knock on the door.

He normally comes right in, but maybe he’s putting on some charade for the night. I hop right over, pulling it open to reveal many, many bags.

“Oh, my gosh,” I look around, trying to find his face in all of the stuff. “What’s all this?”

His figure shuffles in, and I close the door. “Oh, only the best for my darling.” He hums, and I almost snort. So he is acting?

There are a few bags, some with the label for a fancy new restaurant that was down the road. Oh? I heard they have incredible seafood. The rest of the bags are pink and frilly. Gift bags. That is one thing I didn’t think to do. Wrap my gifts. He begins to pile them down on the opposite side of the counter, his face now in plain view.

He’s slicked his hair back, a single strand dangling over his forehead. Quite dashing. Like me, he’s worn his best, a black button-down and dress pants. He grins, seeing me checking him out. Well of course I know he’s hot. I’d be lying if I said I thought he wasn’t attractive.

“Dea?” He mumbles, arms outstretched for a hug. I huff, trying not to laugh, as this all feels a bit ridiculous. Him dressed up, and me in a black dress, hair curled and makeup done. All we are going to do is watch movies. It’s all… very silly.

“Happy Valentine’s day!” I lean in to hug him and he squeezes me tight to his chest. It lingers and for a moment I think it’s the longest hug we’ve shared.

“Happy Valentine’s...” He pulls away halfway, looking me up and down, “You look beautiful”

I blush, feeling the warmth of his hands on my arms “You do too.” I say and he smiles softly, before turning to the counter. I shuffle my feet on the tiles of the floor, “You ready for our fake Valentine’s?” I grin, sliding over to the counter.

“Fake?” His eyes widen in faux surprise. He then chuckles, “So you baked? What else should I have expected?” He takes up one of the cookies in his hand, taking a bite. I grin, already knowing he loves my cookies. With a hum of satisfaction, he finishes the whole thing.

“I got you like a garlic shrimp noodle dish!” He beams, looking over his take out bags, “So let’s not let our food get cold.” I smile because he knows my favorites.

“I’ll pour some wine okay.” My hands find my finest bottle, still cheap but what is a college student gonna do? Two glasses find themselves a quarter of the way full. I saw in some movie that it was proper that way.

I hear a groan from Jungkook, making me lift my head, “if I’m gonna be on a date with you I’ll need a lot more liquor than that.”

“Tch.” I roll my eyes, pushing the bottle away. “We can drink later. Get like... wasted while we watch those god awful movies you mentioned.” With glasses in hand, I walk to my table where Jungkook has already laid out the food with silverware.

My dish looks incredible. A garlic noodle with shrimp? I practically drool a little as I join him at the table. Jungkook is no different, staring at his meal as though he’d like to swallow it whole.

“Thanks for dinner.” I hum, twirling my fork into the noodles. I felt a little guilty, wondering what the receipt for this meal looked like. We both had spent money, but as it looked, he has certainly spent more.

“Of course! Thanks for dessert.” He cuts into his steak, something I expected he would have ordered, and he seems pleased with how it looks. We both dig in, and the majority of our dinner is silent. Too busy enjoying our meals to say anything. It really is delicious, and it’s hard to savor as I chow down. By the time we are both finished, our glasses of wine were long gone. Jungkook was fighting himself on pouring more. Instead, we tossed the take out containers and placed our dishes in the sink.

We stood, arms crossed looking over the desserts. “Well if I’m honest I am too full to eat any of this.” I sigh, feeling the same way. Jungkook made the right decision, eating a cookie before the meal.

“There’s always later.” With a shrug, I move over to my gifts. “But now you should open your gifts!”

“There’s nothing to open.” He teases, eyeing all the gifts.

My body slumps in annoyance, “Jeon Jungkook come open them.” He giggles at my irritation, reaching for the teddy bear.

He holds it close to him, “Okay, okay. Let me name him.” his eyes scan fondly over the stuffed toy. “Mhmh, James.”

“James?” I snicker, and he glares at me.

“James can hear you mocking him.” He growls, with a smile before setting the bear down.

“Sure, sure” I nod, encouraging the next gift.

“Woah, this is so funny,” He only glances at the globe for a moment, immediately grabbing one of his gift bags and handing it to me. “Here open this.” His cheeks raise up, his smile lines deepening as I look on towards the gift. “No way did you get one too?” I reach inside, feeling the smoothness of a round gift. I pull it out. A matching snowglobe. His picture is much less flattering than the one I chose. “Oh my gosh.” I giggle looking at his stupid little face.

“This is awesome.” He stares into his little globe, for a little bit too long and too softly. He looks up, making eye contact with me. I swallow, and he grins, taking the globe and shaking it violently.

“Okay, okay,” I pull on his arms, “Open the next thing.”

He obliges, looking through the chocolates, and finally picking up the card. He stares into it, reading it thoroughly and leaving me to awkwardly stand there. It was long. Thanking him for being my friend, the one person I can always count on.

“It’s cheesy I know.” I glance down, knowing that this wasn’t the point of the night. Now it’s kind of weird. What if he thinks this is some sort of love confession or something? I should have saved all the sappy stuff for another time.

“I love it.” A small smile forms on his lips, his mood has changed and I can tell. I’ve fucked up one hundred percent. He pulls me into another deep hug. His warmth blanketing over me, and his heart beating. Really. Fast. “Thanks Dea. I love you.” He doesn’t let the hug linger this time. He glances back to his gifts, “I didn’t really get you anything that special, but you’re still the bestest friend I’ve ever had.”

I let out a breath of relief, letting him pick out the braided bracelet. It was blue and green, and he immediately slipped it on, admiring the bunny charm. “I made it myself.” I grin, showing him my matching one. He smiles at my wrist but stays silent. Did I do something wrong?

“Okay, your turn.”

The first bag is full of sweet treats. Chocolates and a whole assortment of candies. There are so many sweets in this room it wouldn’t hurt to share with our other friends. Jungkook hands me the next bag. A teddy bear, almost just like the one I gave him.

“I’ll name her Janet.” I grin, mocking the name he gave his. “Janet and James.” I set her down next to the other bear. “Quite a pair.”

“Quite a bear.” Jungkook stares at me, taking the moment to soak in his joke. I ignore him, hiding a smile as he hands the next one over.

“This one's the best one.” He pouts, “there are two parts” I shake my head reaching in. and finding a small box. I don’t hesitate in opening it, two little rings are inside. Raising an eyebrow I examine them further.

‘I heart you’ one says, and I feel that it's plastic. “Great right?” He takes the other and tries to stick it on his fingers. Eventually, he fits it on his pinkie. They are clearly from a gumball machine or something, for kids. I shake my head with a laugh, sticking it onto my pinkie as well. I reach into the bag again. The fluff of something soft meeting my fingers. I pull it out.

“What’s this?” I ask, seeing as there are two. One has a heart and arrow pattern and the other has pink teddy bears.

He blushes, his hand resting on the back of his neck, “I thought it would be fun to have matching pajamas while we watch the movies.” He huffs, looking down at the ground.

Oh! My eyes widen at the pink teddy bears, and I rip the package open. “That's the best idea! That's the silliest Valentine's thing ever.” I shake it out, a pair of pants and a long sleeve. “I’m gonna put it on now!” We share a smile. “You know where the bathroom is.” I wave him off as I walk towards my bedroom.

I slip out of the dress, and I am grateful to be getting into something more comfortable. Feeling giddy I look into my mirror. I look like a kid, and I feel like one too. This is so much fun. We should do fake Valentine’s more often. Who needs a real date anyway? Best friends are most definitely the better option.

If it weren’t Jungkook, I’d be worried about every little thing. If something got stuck in my teeth at dinner. If I got him the right kind of chocolates. If my dress was riding up. Too many things to worry about, with him I can be comfortable. And now, extra comfortable with this cute new pajama set.

I head back out, and soon Jungkook returns from the bathroom, folding his clothing up and leaving it on the table. He’s a sight to see, looking very soft, “You’re cute.” I say heading over to the couch.

“Oh,” he laughs awkwardly, “Thanks.” He comes around joining me. We sit together crossing our legs up on the couch.

“So which of these shitty movies are we gonna watch?” I flip on the screen, opening up Netflix. He shuffles getting comfortable.

“I think we should watch one that’s not that shitty, but like To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before?” He says and I shrug, searching it up. It didn’t matter to me. I’ve seen this one, but it was a while ago. I think I remember liking it. One of the better cheesy rom coms.

As long as we can make fun of it. That’s the point. We’d planned this night a while ago. Thinking how much fun it would be to make fun of Valentine’s day by doing Valentine's day things. It’s turning out to be the best Valentine’s I’ve ever had.

“How can she say that and feel differently?” Jungkook curls his lip in annoyance at the main character. We were far along with the film and he was getting annoyed with her. “It’s basically lying.”

I groan, “No? She’s just apprehensive cause he’s been giving her mixed signals and been wishy-washy the whole movie.”

He takes the remote and pauses it rather aggressively. “If anyone’s sending mixed signals it’s her. All girls do that. If she was just straightforward with her feelings then so could he.”

“Why is it her responsibility to be straight forward? Can’t he do it? She’s the inexperienced one? He knows that.”

He rolls his head back against the couch, his hair falling from its confines. “My point is that girls are confusing.” His neck tenses as he pulls his head back up. “And he,” he points to the screen, “Is confused. So of course he isn’t gonna be straightforward.”

“Girls are not confusing.” I roll my eyes if anyone is confusing it’s boys. His brows are furrowed in frustration, and I think it’s funny that he has such a serious opinion about it. His demeanor changes again, and he seems to squeeze his fists open and closed.

“Yes, they are, like you.”

I scoff, “Me?”

He interrupts before I can continue. “Yeah, you. Your signals are so mixed and it fucks with my brain. One minute you're cold and the other you’re hot. I try and understand but it always just makes me more confused.” He rambles, not looking at me, “I just want to understand you.” He sighs, realizing he got heated.

My head shakes, “I’m so confused, which only proves that boys are more confusing.” He doesn’t respond. “Understand what?” I look over him and his face has fallen to his lap. My eyes shadow with worry as I cross my legs scooting closer to him. “I don’t really know why this turned into an argument… Did I say something wrong?” He shakes his head, more hair sliding out onto his forehead.

“Seriously Jungkook I don’t want tonight to end in us being upset over something so stupid, but like you’ve been a little off the whole night. Was it me?”

A deep groan escapes from his throat, and he cringes, “No, no Dea.” He buries his head into his hands.”I mean…” I really don’t understand what changed his mood all of the sudden. My hands fold in my lap. What could I have said to upset him? It really can’t have anything to do with the stupid movie. Can it? Maybe it had been the card. I’ve always expressed how much I care about him but maybe the timing was wrong. Maybe it came across weird and now he thinks that I like him.

“So it was me?” I swallow, pursing my lips.

His eyes shut as he takes a breath. “No, Dea you didn’t upset me.” He brings his hand to my wrist, clasping over it. His face softens, but he still looks confused. His fingers, soft and warm, tickle over the bracelet, running it in between his fingers. The simple touch sending tingles down my arm. “I promise.” He mumbles, opening his eyes, which meet mine. My breath speeds up and I feel nervous all of the sudden. My heart races as he stares into me. Those eyes have always been beautiful. The way they shine as the light hits them, always wide and searching.

What was he searching for?

His eyes don’t leave mine, but his hand fades from the bracelet, traces of his touch still at my skin. I can’t help the butterflies in my stomach. Especially, as his hand meets my cheek. Its presence lingers, soft and kind. Under the coolness of his fingers, my cheeks are heated, and I want to tear my eyes away from his, but my gaze stays.

His fingers flit over my skin, his hand hooking around my neck and thumb meeting my ear. I try to slow my breaths, which are too fast and heavy. I notice he bites at his lip, contemplating? Searching with those searching eyes. His thumb moves again, brushing against my cheek that is surely rosey enough for him to see.

Slowly his body inches towards mine, his face coming closer and pulling mine in tandem. God so excruciatingly slow, but his eyes still haven’t left mine. His chest rises and falls, his nose bumps mine. Finally, his eyes drop, glancing at my lips. His part slightly, as he leans further.

They touch, Jungkook pressing his lips into mine and pulling me into him by my neck. Gently, softly, he kisses me. As if relieved he sighs into my mouth, his other hand snaking into my waist. I breathe in a sudden breath, shocked at the cold of his fingers there.

Immediately he breaks the kiss, eyes wide and confusion filling them. “I’m sorry.” He says breathy, his hands retreating. I too am breathless, unsure of what to say. That certainly wasn’t what I expected, but I liked it. God, I fucking liked it a lot. I wanted to do it again. But doubt clouds his eyes, scanning me over.

“God Dea. I’ve royally fucked up haven’t I.” His breaths are getting fast and I can tell he's about to panic. Why? Couldn’t he tell I liked it? I shake my head fervently, but he’s not looking. “I’m so sorry, I don’t want this to change anything.” He chokes, his eyes watering.”You’re… you’re my best friend… and”

“Jungkook!” I try to muster up some courage, one hand planting itself on his chest hesitantly. He goes silent, “I... “ I swallow trying to find the right words. “Don’t apologize.” My heart pounds in my ears, unsure of what this feeling is. His eyes look somewhat relieved, and my hand falters at his neck. I take a deep breath. “I… want you to kiss me…” I say shakily before biting my lip, my other hand finally rests at his nape. Maybe that was too forward? I can’t read him now as he stares on, eyes flipping over me.

“You do?” He mumbles, sounding wary. Making me say it again? My stomach twirls, answering silently. I mean I do. Does he not?

I squeeze my hand shut that lays on his chest, “ah… yeah.” My eyes fall, wondering what he’s thinking. Under the soft fabric of the pjs I feel his heart, racing just as mine is. His hand, the left this time, reaches up, taking my neck much more firmly, pulling my face into his. He halts, his breath hitting my lips but nothing more. His lashes batting and dancing with mine. Together our heavy breaths fall onto one another. He does want this right? My fingers clasp at the sew line of his top, and I tug the fabric with both hands, pulling him the rest of the way.

With his mouth on mine, I take both hands around his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss. Again he pulls at my waist, less hesitant this time. His hand finds the small of my back, supporting himself as he leans into me. He leans closer and closer until my back is against the cushions, one of his legs between mine. The kiss softens, we both need to breathe, but neither of us pulls away.

His hand knots itself in my hair, keeping my lips against his. Holding on to the last moments. Until they aren’t. My lungs are heaving in need of air of my own. His breath flutters over my face, and he kisses softly at my cheek.

“Can I be straightforward then”?” He asks into my ear, the humming sensation tickling at my face. I nod, keeping my hands on him, not wanting him to leave. Not wanting him to say it was a mistake, or that he doesn’t want it to be a forever thing. He smiles softly, showing the teeny mole under his lip, reassuring me slightly. He must have noticed the worry in my eyes, brushing through my hair with his hand, tracing a finger over my cheeks.

“I… like you Dea.” He says soothing himself with a deep breath. “I love you.” He swallows, nodding slowly, “I love you.”

My lips curl up in the slightest smile. “I love you too.”

—

for more :D

#jeonjungkook #bts #bts smut #jungkook is cute #jungkook soft #oc #smut #fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts fanfiction #my writing #drabbles #bts drabble #oneshot #bts oneshot

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dont-offend-the-bees · 3 years

Text

Profoundly Interconnected #1

Destiel!Brotzly? Destiel!Brotzly.

3k, Teen and Up, see the end for some notes on this universe/my plans for it ^^

Prior to this scene: Todd Brotzman is alive, but he shouldn’t be. Fully expecting to rot in Hell for eternity after selling his soul to save his little sister Amanda, this morning he woke up alive, whole, and clawing his way out of his own grave. Not a mark on his body save for a raised human handprint on his shoulder. Ever since then he’s been assailed by deafening, screeching sounds that shatter the glass around him, and with the help of Amanda and their pseudo-dad, Zimmerfield, he’s been trying to solve the mystery of what kind of creature is powerful enough to pull a soul out of Hell, and why. The local demon hotspot had no info, and on visiting Wakti- a medium and friend of Zimmerfield’s- they managed to gain one piece of information before her eyes were burned out of her head. A name: Icarus. Now Todd and Zimmerfield are trying one last big attempt at a barn in the middle of nowhere, every summoning and containing sigil in the book painted over the walls and floor; one last ditch attempt to meet Todd’s mysterious saviour face to face.

It’s quiet. Too quiet. Nothing but the repetitive thunk-schiiiick of Todd repeatedly sinking the tip of a knife into the table he’s perched on. The big knife, the magic knife. About the best weapon they’ve got now the Colt’s gone. Closest they can get to breaking out the big guns.

“You sure you did the ritual right?” he snaps impatiently, driving the blade once more into the pockmarked wood.

Zimm, leaning against the opposite table and looking much more relaxed than Todd feels, gives him the classic Zimmerfield eyebrows.

Todd raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry.” He refocuses his attention on his therapeutic table abuse. He wishes he could just be bored like Zimm, just swing his feet and zone out. But he’s tighter than a drum, restless energy thrumming under his skin. It feels like static in his nerves, some kind of anticipation making his pulse pound, making his blood run hot- making that damn hand print on his shoulder chafe and burn against his shirt. He winces and rubs at it, fruitlessly sliding the fabric around.

“You keep itching that thing and you’ll make it worse,” says Zimm, sage as ever.

“It’s not fucking chicken pox.”

“Until we have a chat with your mysterious benefactor we don’t know what it is, kid.”

Todd shudders at the thought of it, of meeting a thing with the kind of power needed to haul someone out of Hell. This so-called Icarus; this creature that had the ability to restore him to life without a scratch on him, but chose to leave its own mark anyway. “Don’t remind me.”

Zimm visibly softens, and he opens his mouth- presumably to say something comforting, in that curt way of his. He doesn’t mince his words but he’s kind, and he cares a hell of a lot for them and he’ll tell them so. And honestly, Todd could really use that right now.

So of course that’s when the fucking barn starts shaking.

Todd springs to his feet, quick and sharp as a butterfly knife; pulse racing, adrenaline surging. Without a word he and Zimm take up their rifles and stand back to back, covering each other, searching for the threat. The entire barn seems to rattle, starting at the back nearest to them and rolling along lengthways in a ripple of violent impacts across the ceiling that arrive in tandem with the dark rumble from the sky beyond the thin wooden walls. Broad shanty roof panels shudder and lift, colliding with one another in a cacophonous din like cracking branches in a forest storm, clashing with the boom of distant thunder as flashes of light flicker through the cracks to illuminate the sigils of ink and blood across the walls, all equally black in the gloom. Todd figures this must be how Dorothy felt, trapped in the house as it was torn from the Earth by a twister; like her entire world’s been picked up and shaken like a snowglobe. Noise, wind, energy permeates the night but so far no eyes, voices, no claws or teeth.

Todd half turns towards Zimm, grimacing. “Wishful thinking but, uh… maybe it’s just the wind?”

Which is about when the first lightbulb explodes.

Flinching, Todd and Zimm whip both shotgun barrels towards the flash in the same breath. It was the light right above the enormous barn doors, and even with the bulb shattered beyond repair it’s still spitting out sparks like all the electricity in the grid is making a break for freedom. And underneath the shower of sparks the door- the doors, both of them- are slowly swinging open.

Trembling, Todd plants his feet and sets his sights.

It doesn’t take him long to realise no one is touching the doors themselves. They’re just opening, parting in unison like the damn Red Sea, and their very own Moses is drifting in just a few paces behind. Barely visible as more than a silhouette at first, obscured in sparks from the front and flashes of lightning from the back, but as it comes closer Todd starts to pick out details. Like neat, short hair, dark and glinting just slightly red in the tumble of lights. Like a trenchcoat, long and loose, drifting effortlessly across the devil’s traps and salt lines on the floor like no ghost Todd’s ever seen. Like the way this thing, this seemingly person-shaped thing, isn’t even flinching at the hot, angry sparks currently cascading over it; instead turning its head with deliberate, controlled motions to take in the surrounding barn, curiosity unaffected by the power raining down on it, or the two guns being pointed at it.

When it finally looks at Todd and Zimm, it doesn’t even acknowledge the weapons. It just stares, smiles, and advances.

Panic seizing him, Todd squeezes the trigger; a near simultaneous bang off-side tells him Zimm is on the same page. They do it again, and again, emptying shells into this creepy fucker before it can get within spitting distance, but-

But it doesn’t even slow down.

Todd watches aghast as the thing draws closer. One by one the rest of the lights burst into showers of sparks as it passes under them, illuminating more details in the dizzying spill. The thing seems to be… a guy? Looks like a guy, anyway. Just a man, a decent-looking man with pale skin, with a slightly ill-fitting suit and a loose necktie, with a toothy grin that seems too wide and hasn’t so much as dimmed for the six fucking bullet holes in its trench coat.

And this man, this creature, as it draws closer Todd realises with a sinking feeling that it isn’t looking at Zimm at all. It’s looking at Todd, and only Todd, with blue eyes so radiantly bright and piercingly intense they can’t possibly be human.

Todd drops the empty gun- fat lot of good it is against this thing- and backs up to the table, feeling around for the knife blindly as holds that gaze.

“Who are you?” he rasps, trying to demand it with conviction, but he’s hanging onto his bravado by a thread.

It comes close, close, turning its back on Zimm without a care to confront Todd head on at arm’s length, smile intact, eyes unblinking, energy like nothing Todd’s ever felt rolling off of it in waves.

And then, confusingly, it speaks in a voice and accent that Todd could have heard on a crappy motel TV in a rerun of Doctor Who.

“That, Todd Brotzman, is a big question with several answers.” It tilts its head owlishly, a spark dancing in its eyes. It still hasn’t blinked once. “Some quite unpronounceable in your tongue. But as I suspect your concern lies less with who I am and more specifically with who I am to you, we’ll cut to the crux of the matter.”

Its grin, impossibly, widens, another burst of sparks dances across the disconcerting mask of its features. “Simply put: I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

Silence falls, even the storm seeming to subside, nothing hanging between them but a scant stretch of air and a current of unnameable energy strung across it. This creature- the creature that can only be Icarus- simply stares, smiles.

Todd blinks. “Um… thanks?”

It grins wider -how?!- and nods, opening its mouth to speak again.

Todd finds the knife and lunges before it gets the chance.

The blade goes through as it would any other beast, sinking between seemingly human ribs with deadly precision, Todd driving it with his entire body weight to hopefully slide through whatever passes for a heart in this thing. It goes in and Todd goes with it, gritting his teeth and holding fast until the knife is sunk to the hilt, bringing Todd’s fist to rest on the chest of the creature he’s just killed, his face turning upwards to look it in the eye.

Icarus looks down, but not at Todd’s face, at least not at first. First it looks at the knife, at Todd’s hand gripped around it, silently observes.

When it does look Todd in his eyes, there’s no anger in its own. No pain, no fear. It looks down at Todd, and the only way Todd knows how to describe what that gaze feels like is to say it makes him feel an entertaining and well-loved hamster gnawing at the bars of his cage. There’s a fondness to it, but as undercurrent to amusement, condescension, intrigue. Like Todd never stood a chance. Like it’s cute that he tried.

Todd lets go of the knife, staggering back a step and watching in horror as this thing looks down again, grips the knife handle, and carefully drags it out from between its ribs like it’s no more bothersome than a splinter.

Icarus inspects the enchanted blade a second, hummingly approvingly. “Bold choice.” Its smile seems indulgent as it carelessly tosses the most powerful knife Todd’s ever held in his hands to the sigil-covered floor like an afterthought.

Todd doesn’t even know why Zimm bothers to try his own attack after that display, but hey, what else are they gonna do?

But Zimm’s lunge with the butt of his rifle doesn’t even make contact. Icarus catches it with one hand, gripping Zimm’s wrist and squeezing, forcing him to drop the weapon; and all this before even sparing the guy a single glance. It keeps eye contact with Todd as his last hope clatters to the floor along with the discarded knife, and only looks at Zimm long enough to give him a grin, a chipper: “One moment, please,”, and a light touch to the forehead with two fingers.

Zimm’s eyes roll back, he drops like a stone- and Todd’s stomach goes with him. “Zimm!”

Turning back to Todd, Icarus doesn’t even pause, doesn’t dim its freaky fucking face-splitting smile one bit. “Now that that’s dealt with; you and I need to talk, Todd.”

“We need to-?! You fucking killed Zimm!”

Icarus waves a hand in what looks like a dismissive motion, but it’s a bit stiff. Its whole body seems stiff, actually, almost like it’s not used to using it. “Oh, he’s alive. He will be quite alright.”

Todd drops to his knees to check anyway- not like he’s got any reason to trust this thing. But Zimm’s still breathing, eyelids fluttering but out cold, not responding to Todd’s hands as he pats his cheek, shakes his shoulder. Todd looks up at Icarus, trying to glare, trying to make up for the height disadvantage from his knees. “Who are you? Gimme a real answer.”

“Icarus. I did introduce myself earlier, if you recall, when you and your compatriots attempted your little-” it does another awkward wave- “thing.” Its forehead wrinkles, smile dropping as its brows draw together in something that might be an approximation of concern; and Todd isn’t sure whether to be relieved that it has more expression settings than ‘there is no war in Ba Sing Se’, or unsettled by how it’s clearly struggling to make its face behave like a face. “Have you been experiencing a lot of issues with your memory since I put you together? I can make adjustments-”

“Wha- no, okay, Icarus, I got that.” He looks the thing up and down. Weird name, but he’s a weird guy-creature-thing. “I mean what are you?”

Icarus stands tall, smile snapping back into place, smug and self-assured despite the clunkiness of his body. “I am an Angel of the Lord.”

Todd barks out a laugh, standing and turning to face it-him-whatever head on with all the stubbornness he can muster. “Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?”

“It’s the truth.”

“Angels don’t exist.”

A challenging gleam ignites Icarus’ eyes, blazing in the gloom like bottled lightning. “And therein lies your problem, Todd. You have no faith.”

Lightning- real lightning- flashes, lights fizzle. Todd flinches, eyes flickering around in search of other superpowered weirdos crashing the party but his eyes are drawn back to Icarus in moments. To his eyes, brighter and wilder than the storm. To his body, perfectly motionless, barely even a flicker to imply breathing. To his grin, immovable, immutable.

To the high, sigil-adorned barn wall at his back, illuminated in the flare of the untamed electric crashes; and eclipsed almost in its entirety by the colossal shadows of wings unfolding from Icarus’ broad shoulders.

They’re there and gone again in a flash- literally- but Todd stares at the empty space they leave behind, the imprint of the image still burned on his retinas as he tries and fails to make sense of what he just saw. It was shadows, only shadows, but he can barely figure out what he was looking at. Were there two wings? Six? Were those the impressions of feathers? Spikes? If it was only shadows, why did he feel for a second there like he’d stared deep into a powerful, unknowable… something that no one should see? His heart is hammering in his chest, his fists clenching at his sides as they itch for the press of a knife handle in his palm. It’s a trick. Or a lie- it’s gotta be smoke and mirrors, or a misdirection. There could be any number of creatures with invisible wings, or the illusion magic to pull this kind of thing off.

He wishes he could convince himself. “Okay,” he mutters, trying to keep his cool, look Icarus in the eye instead of peering behind him for another glimpse. “Okay, I’ll bite- if you’re an angel, how come you’re burning the eyes out of people, huh?”

Which is about when this self-proclaimed all-powerful angel attempts to manipulate its face into a new arrangement, and winds up looking distinctly fucking sheepish. “Yes, that was… unfortunate. I did try to warn her. She shouldn’t have been attempting to spy on my true form, you see; it can be harmful to humans. And any mortal creature, in fact- cats and voles notwithstanding, of course. For most, our true forms are overwhelming. As are our true voices, but then-” he flaps a hand at Todd- “you already knew that.”

Memories of shattering glass and ringing ears click into place. “Wait- you mean the gas station yesterday? And again at the motel, that- that was you talking?”

Icarus nods, grin stretching.

“Jesus- take it down a notch, okay? I’ve been to some loud gigs in my time but that was… something else.”

“Yes. My mistake, I’m afraid. Certain people, certain special people, they can perceive me in my entirety, my true visage. Given the circumstances I thought you might be one of them. I was wrong.”

Todd… kinda feels like he should be insulted. But he has bigger fish to fry right now. “So… what ‘visage’ are you in now?” He gestures to Icarus’ body, all five foot nine of it, his schlumpy suit and battered coat. “Holy tax accountant?”

“Oh, this?” Icarus looks down and plucks at the collar of his trenchcoat, as if he’s only just realised he’s wearing it. He wrinkles his nose at the coat, but smooths down the disarranged blue tie with a certain degree of care before looking back up at Todd with a smaller but no less unsettling smile. “This is a vessel. Just a temporary solution.”

Taking a step back, Todd’s hand lifts reflexively to his chest above his anti-possession tattoo. “So you’re just… you just possessed some guy’s body? What the hell, man?!”

“Borrowed. I’ll give him back in due course. Anyway, he is a devout man, he prayed for this. It’s a very amicable arrangement.”

Todd doesn’t even know where to begin with wrapping his head around consensual possession- he wouldn’t even let someone else drive his car. “No. No, I’m not buying it. Any of it- what the hell are you? Really?”

Icarus frowns. He pulls the corners of his ‘borrowed’ mouth down a little too far to be strictly natural. “I told you what I am.”

“You’re seriously gonna stick to the angel thing?”

“I’m only stating the facts.”

Laughing, hollow and caustic, Todd rubs his forehead. “Fine. Fine. Okay. You wanna tell me why a fucking angel would rescue me from Hell? I mean seriously, me?”

Icarus steps closer. “Good things do happen, Todd.”

Todd holds his ground, looks this thing dead in the eye. If he can stare him down, hold his nerve, maybe he can keep his own voice from shaking. Keep thoughts of pain, nightmares, horror and loss to the back of his mind. “Not in my experience.”

Icarus stares right back down at Todd, a scant few inches taller but he knows how to use them. He peers into Todd, blue eyes alight with energy unlike anything Todd’s ever experienced, and maybe he isn’t an angel but he is… something. Something old, powerful. Something unknowably vast folded into this human-sized space and all but bursting at the seams. Something ancient but undiscovered, lost to time, something they’ve never seen before.

But he looks at Todd, looks into him, and Todd can’t explain why but the longer he does, the longer Todd looks back and gets used to the unblinking eyes and the off-kilter expressions, the more he looks beyond the light and the coldness and the alien curiosity the more he feels the traces of something… familiar. Something that knows Todd, something he’s known in return.

Icarus studies him, unblinking, head cocked in that owlish manner. Todd hangs on to the unsettling vibe of that gesture, tries to focus on the sense that he’s just a butterfly in a shadowbox to this thing because it makes more sense than whatever wires are crossing in his head to make him think that this isn’t invasive, actually; that Icarus isn’t standing too close. That Todd wouldn’t mind if he stood closer.

And then Icarus’ eyes widen in understanding, and Todd decides with a lurch in his chest that he’s close enough.

“You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”

More than close enough.

Todd swallows, forcing himself to stay cool, stay still. Forcing himself not to avert his eyes, react defensively. “Why’d you do it?” he asks again, hoarse, wary. “Why me?”

And Icarus smiles wide, inhumanly wide, and his eyes spark with wild light as his hand lifts and lands on Todd’s shoulder. As through Todd’s shirt and jacket it fits to the raised, tender handprint, finger for finger. Like a glove.

“Because God commanded it,” Icarus proclaims, like he’s bestowing a gift. “Because we have work to do.”

Goosebumps prickling on his arms, blood zinging with electricity in his veins like the single point of physical contact has closed a circuit, Todd looks Icarus in the face and thinks of Oz again, but he’s no Dorothy. He’s the house, and Icarus is the twister. All the raw forces of the wind and sky personified; a natural disaster in a frumpy trench coat.

And then he thinks, almost wistfully, of his coffin in the ground.

Guess there really is no rest for the wicked.

Thanks for reading! Reblogs are hugely appreciated if you enjoyed it ^^

Now, a few notes and things!

My head's been deep in both DGHDA and SPN lately, so it was pretty inevitable that crossover/AU shenanigans would ensue. But unlike the inverse of this (SPN chars in DGHDA), which has fewer canon events to work with and therefore might be feasible for me to tackle as one big fic at some point, the SPN universe at this point is so fucking massive and rambling that even the idea of trying to narrow down what I wanted to keep out of 15 seasons was freaking me out. So I decided to hell with it, I'm just gonna write bits and pieces as it sparks joy. And bc I'm not approaching this in any kind of linear fashion or with a goal in mind towards getting it in shape as a big cohesive story, that means that I can share as I go, talk about it with people who are interested, and change/retcon things as I go if need be! Maybe one day I will have written enough in this universe to think about remastering/combining it into a big multichapter fic or a cohesive series, but I don't need that kinda pressure in my life at the moment so for now, let's just live in the moment ^^

So, in this universe so far the only character roles I have set in stone are Todd=Dean, Amanda=Sam and Dirk=Castiel. The thinking behind Zimm=Bobby is that their vibes are similar, there aren't many nice dad figures in DGHDA, and a somewhat aged-up Estevez would be a great Rufus (but then again he'd also be a great Victor Henriksen, if I decide to write any of those episodes- much to think about!). I won't be adapting every single SPN character and storyline, A) bc many don't interest me, B) because there aren't enough Dirk chars to replace them with even if I look to the books for inspo. So if you have chars/stories/moments you really wanna see, let me know! I'm very open to talking about this AU, I've been in a bit of a slump with writing lately in that I'm always working on long fics alone and not getting feedback so I'm very down for having at least one thing with a much more social/collaborative element ^^

I really enjoyed writing Dirk (or Icarus) like this- having him be stoic like Cas would have felt wrong, so I tried to make him inhuman and unsettling in a different way! As he adapts to time with Todd and Amanda and grows closer to humanity he'll learn to drop the big creepy smile, learn to control his body (ish), find a new name and new style that suit him, but I wanted there to be a feeling of progress when that happens ^^

I'm gonna write what interests me, so stories will probs be a range of lengths, many will be Brotzly-centric (hence the verse title) but I'm also interested to explore the Todd and Amanda dynamic in this setting! Probs won't do anything explicit but there'll probs be SPN-typical gore/violence etc. here and there.

Also I'm by no means trying to 'stake a claim' on SPN AUs for Dirk characters- y'all should defo write you own if you're vibing with it, or wanna do something differently to how I'm doing it! But if you can't be bothered with doing that but enjoy the idea, by all means come chat with me <3

I'll post to Ao3 too but if you want to get tumblr notifications when I post more stories in this verse, lmk and I'll start a taglist for it!

Until next time! <3

#dirk gently's holistic detective agency #dirk gently #spn #supernatural #brotzly #todd brotzman #my fanfic #alternate universe #Profoundly Interconnected Verse #Dghda

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justnerdthings · 3 years

Text

Never Again Ch.3

Female OC x Raiden/Shang Tsung (it's gonna be both)

I don't know what to say to get ya'll interested in this story. But for those who are enjoying it: a great big thank you. Tell me what you think. I'm open to everything.

Shang Tsung’s screams echoed off the walls and throughout the palace. The greenery that had reclaimed the palace shriveled and died in their places. Their life energy was drained and wisping through the halls quickly towards the throne room. Outside the palace, the flora and wildlife met the same fate as that inside the palace. Trees became brittle and fell, animals laid down to rest before peacefully slipping away. This gentle plague quickly spread throughout the island until there was no life left.

Feeling her sources exhausted, Helena removed her hand from Shang Tsung’s chest. He collapsed immediately. She’d caught him and set him on his throne. A deal had been made. He would help her if she would help him. His idea. But of course Helena knew of Shang’s trickery. She made sure to put a failsafe in place. If he broke his vow before the plan was realized, this lovely gift she’d just bestowed him would be void. For now, it seemed she’d tamed this wild snake.

Helena stepped back from him and down the steps as he began coughing violently. A smirk pulled her lips. Was she rusty? Yes. But she was just as powerful. Confusion came to Shang’s face as his coughing fit grew. His old eyes locked on her as he struggled to catch his breath. He was choking. His eyes turned bloodshot and his veins darkened under his paling skin. Had she just killed him? But they had a deal! That lying witch! Shang growled through his distress as he leaned forward and gasped. Something had lodged in his throat.

She watched him, grinning ear to ear. No, she hadn’t sentenced him to death. Not yet.

Shang lifted a shaking hand, summoning a small, weak green flame. Watching her smirk, he tried to attack her with it. It barely left his hand before it sputtered itself out. “Wi-witch!” He choked out in his frustration.

She chuckled as she watched him writhe in his pain and suffering. “I have not cheated you, Shang Tsung. The pain means it is working. It is best if you do not fight it.”

He only caught part of what she was saying. His mind was numbing. His vision was failing. His eyelids drooped as he succumbed to the lack of air.

Helena watched as his strength began to leave him. Her smirk fell to a playful pout. She caught him with a spell as he fell forward from his throne. “The spirits of this island are fond of you, Shang Tsung. Let them heal you,” she cooed.

One last gasp and Shang spewed black wisps from his mouth. Helena collected them all with waves of her hand, holding them hostage in a glowing purple orb. “That’s it,” she coaxed gently. “Expel this curse from your body.” With her other hand, she gently pushed him with her mind back onto his throne. More of the wisps came, erupting from the old sorcerer. Soon though, the convulsing stopped.

Shang leaned back on his throne, breathing heavy with his eyes closed. He was so exhausted. He had never been so exhausted. There was nothing left in him. He could barely lift an armored finger as he felt finger tips tease the underside of his chin. Weakly his eyes opened to see Helena leaning over him. She grinned as his eyes found her and removed her hand. Helena straightened and turned. He followed her gaze to the purple orb, the size of a small car, filled with a black, violent energy. It slammed against its confines, demanding to be released. But Helena had it perfectly secured.

Helena looked back to him. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Such craftsmanship… this curse you have harbored. Who gave you this?”

He was still breathing hard. Staring at the curse that had been part of him for centuries, he could not believe that it was truly removed from him. “They did not specify their identities,” he breathed. “They only said that they were my gods,” he told her, remembering the day he was cursed by those strange entities.

“How vague…” She looked back to the curse as it continued to struggle.

Shang pushed himself forward and leaned on his arm. “What shall we do with it?”

“Mm.” She bounced the orb playfully on the stone floor, teasing the curse inside from a distance. “It is your curse. You may do what you wish with it.” Pulling and closing her hand towards her, the orb flew to her and shrunk to fit in her palm. She held it and gave it a small shake. It was like a little, angry snow globe. She held it out for Shang, who took it carefully in a weak hand.

It vibrated in his grip. Chills were sent up his spine. His heart pounded. He shivered. It was energy--pure energy that he was feeling. Shang took in a deep breath and felt some strength return to him. This little angry snowglobe was like a battery to him. That could prove useful.

“Ah, now here comes the Shang Tsung I remember,” Helena said with that haunting smirk of hers. He looked away from the orb to her. She summoned an old mirror into her hands. The reflection that Shang Tsung saw was the image of himself, growing younger by the seconds. Helena let the mirror hover in front of him as she stepped away. “So handsome and virile…” Shang Tsung woke to find himself still seated on his throne. Daylight now shone through the windows and brightened his palace. He rolled his neck and shoulders which cracked and popped all back into place. All evidence of the island’s reclamation had vanished. How long had he been asleep? When did he fall into a slumber? The last thing he remembered was his own face growing younger before his eyes. Helena… He lifted a clawed hand to rub his face of sleep and stood. He moved with such ease. He practically glided down the steps to the floor. Kicking something, he stopped and looked to see a small glass orb rolling away. Shang reached out and summoned it to his hand. It came so easy. The orb vibrated in his hand… the curse compacted inside still fought for release. He closed his fingers around it, grip tight. Grip strong. He felt younger.

His island however… was barren of life. Husks of birds, rodents, and bugs littered the ground. The dense forests had dried up and collapsed. The once beautiful roses that lined his court yard had all shriveled and died. There was nothing left. His paradise of an island… gone.

“It will grow back,” Helena spoke behind him. He turned to see her. She stood there as elegant as ever. Sleek black hair to her waist. Brown eyes wide and full of mischievous life. Lips painted dark red and curled into that devilish grin. Her robes: black with intricate royal purple stitching. A matching purple sash was tied around her waist, showing off that slender figure. Her skin seemed porcelain under the bright sun. She truly was a beauty.

“You look much livelier this morning,” she told him. “Your color has even returned.”

Shang looked to his armored hand. The skin that peeked through was tanned and smooth. Not a wrinkle or freckle in sight. “What did you do to me?” he asked, even his voice sounded stronger.

Her grin grew as she stepped closer to him. He now dwarfed her by several inches. Had he gotten taller? His brows knotted. What sorcery was this?

“I guided the spirits of your island to heal you. You are no longer cursed and have become what you once were, before the curse plagued you. You are free, Shang Tsung… Mostly,” she told him. “There still is the matter of our little agreement.”

“I do not need souls to survive…” The idea seemed so alien to him. It had been a major part of his life for centuries.

“No. But your magic still relies on them.”

“I will age normally?”

“Yes. However, you may continue to use souls to replenish your life as you need. Or I could simply help you with that again should you wish it.”

“What sorcery is this you use? I have never witnessed such magic.”

“Oh? It is not much different from yours. You take energy from the souls around you, of those you defeat in kombat. I take the energy of all spirit around me.” She gestured to the lifeless flora and fauna that surrounded them. “Be it plant, animal… or person.” She turned to face him again. “I simply ask for it. If they decide it worthy, they give their life to me.”

“Why not simply take it?” Shang Tsung asked. That is what he had always done. Take. If he wanted it, it was his.

“I could. But then I run the risk of upsetting the balance.”

“The balance?”

“Life and death. It is a balance. For something to live, something must die… For you to be cured of your curse and to live as you should, an equal exchange must be given.”

“And if you upset this balance?”

“Then chaos reigns.”

“Then control it,” he said simply.

She grinned to him again and closed the distance between them. His eyes locked on hers as her hands snaked up his arms slowly, feeling him. Was Raiden’s lover attempting to seduce him? His eyes searched her for a hint of her intentions, but she may have been as hard to read as himself. He caught her wrists as her hands reached his shoulders. She didn’t fight him. “You seem to be back in your prime, Shang Tsung. A real lady killer, as it were.”

“Are you volunteering?” He raised a brow. He watched her grin grow.

“You should be so lucky,” she crooned as she slipped her hands from his grip. She then stepped back and turned away. “You have much to do.”

He didn’t bother to fight the urge to look over her backside before looking up at the sky. The barrier… Hand clutching the orb, he took a deep breath, feeling himself drink in the raw energy. His jutsu was so seamless as he readied the spell. His green magic shot up into the sky, building a new barrier around his island. Helena watched with a wicked smile. Even if Raiden found her, he would not be able to reach her here.

#Mortal Kombat #Mortal Kombat 11 #Raiden #Lord Raiden #x oc #oc x #raiden x oc #oc x raiden #fanfic #mortal kombat fanfiction #fic #fanfictions #shang tsung #oc x shang tsung #shang tsung x oc #never again

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 3 years

Note

Please tell us more about Seventh Virtue–we need more? Also what was your general thought process for writing this right now?

Hello!! Seventh Virtue is the fantastical version of the Fostered series (which I’ve been writing for many years as you probably already know)! I came up with the initial idea for this project back in the summer of 2019, but knew I’d probably never write it because at the time, I couldn’t see myself writing beyond literary fiction (and also: I know nothing about fantasy :)) in fact I think I’ve only ever read 3 fantasy books from the same series and that was years ago)!

This led to why I’m writing it right now, actually! Earlier this week, my sister and I binge watched Shadow and Bone and it reminded me of this project (which I’d called Fostered But It’s Magic haha). I couldn’t help but delve more and more into the project as the days progressed, and so I decided I’d try to draft it. I actually tried to draft this project once before as a screenplay because I thought it’d translate better to screen, but gave up FAST when I realized I am terrible at screenwriting! With this in mind, I knew I wanted to write this project, but I’m also impatient, and know I want to write more things this summer. TBH, I didn’t want to spend the rest of my vacation writing another Fostered book (I planned to write something outside of this universe but apparently it doesn’t want me to??) so yesterday at 1AM, I came up with a very... stupid idea to write 10k words in one day.

I made this decision strictly for anxiety exposure. I’m exporting the vlog where I chat about this experience so I won’t delve too much into it. TL;DR: I wrote 11k words yesterday, and finished the first chapter (almost done the second).

So what’s the book about?? Honestly, it’s pretty loose right now. This is the pitch I wrote way back in 2019, which is more or less accurate:

After being tormented by nightmares of his ex lover, which result in violent hot flashes and an inability to keep up a job, Harrison seeks a magical intervention. When the clairvoyant he hopes will cure his strange ailment turns out to be a con woman—and his old friend, Reeve—he is thrown back into the past and forced to rekindle relationships he thought he’d left behind.

The main thing that’s surprised me since drafting is how contemporary this world is?? Despite being literally fantasy, this setting is the most contemporary-aligned compared to the rest of the series. Fostered book 1-6 take place in a sort of dystopia (which gets softer and softer as the books continue), whereas Moth Work and Feeding Habits take place in older-contemporary times (2006)! This book on the other hand I could certainly see taking place in some sort of alternate 2019 (because we :) cannot include the pandemic years :)). It’s also magnificently funny?? I feel really blessed to have just decided to write this book. I know about 10% of what is going on at all times, but it’s so fun to draft!

Something I didn’t expect initially was how big a presence Foster would have in this book! I kind of :) forgot about Foster in Moth Work/Feeding Habits (so sorry he is still an icon), and while I knew he’d be Harrison’s roommate, I kind of assumed he’d be a side character?? But no, he said, I am reclaiming my “Main Cast” title and you can do nothing to stop me. For the majority of what I’ve written, Harrison and Foster are living in the past. This is because Foster can ~time travel, but is incredibly ethical and sustainable, so he refuses to actually change the past/do anything that would affect the present/future. After a hex goes wrong and results in Harrison’s mother getting into an accident and eventually disappearing, Harrison’s life is in literal shambles. Tormented by nightmares and hot flashes, he is NOT living his best life. To cope, Foster agrees to take them back to the past where he can relive the last 5 days before his mother’s accident, thinking they will only stay there for that one week. But when they’ve repeated the same week dozens of time, Foster ups the pressure on Harrison to give him the okay to head back to the present. And when these “hot flashes”/nightmares get even worse, Foster tells Harrison about a “healer” who cured his broken wrist (so he could plant his tomatoes lol), Harrison concedes and they finally head back to present day so he too can visit this woman, who is actually their old friend, Reeve.

This book is SO angsty and hilarious! I think my favourite thing about it is that I get to write Lonan and Harrison falling in love again lol, which I didn’t exactly get to experience in the conventional way (the first time around). By the time we meet Lonan (who is introduced in book 2), he and Harrison already have a pretty complex relationship. This relationship gets even more tangled in book 3, and book 5 is where we get to see the first glimpses of a romance. Somewhere in this timeline, between books 3-5, they ~fell in love, but I don’t know when! I think most of that occurred off the page, so even I don’t know. What’s so fun is now I get to glimpse into that a little bit more. Their relationship is my favourite thing and always has been, about this entire series, so I’m so stoked to finally get to dabble with it from the beginning. All I really know at the moment is that they meet because Lonan catches Harrison being a thief lol so, so much fun tension already to work with!

I’m not sure if I’ll finish this, mostly because the prospect of writing an 80k novel sort of terrifies me?? The project is almost 12k at the moment, and we really have only scratched the very surface, so we’ll see! I haven’t written genre fiction in so long and I’m adoring this! It’s also so much less strenuous than writing literary lols so perfect because I’m still a little wiped out after my semester ended!

Here’s an excerpt when Harrison meets up with Reeve for the first time:

The shop’s name is The Lark’s Lagoon. When he enters, a string of freshwater shells clatter, like bells would. She is not at the table like she was in the past, so he putters around the shop. Some of the things she sells are silly. Plastic mood rings that are clearly heat activated and more suited for a child but marketed to women in their thirties. Ping pong balls with the inscription enchanted aims. Snowglobes with a miniature witch figurine who says I’ll tell your fortune when you shake it.

“That’s a bestseller.” Her voice comes so suddenly that Harrison drops the globe. It shatters across the floor in a glittery bundle. “So you’re going to need to pay for that.”

Harrison describing Lonan lol:

Harrison hated him. He was cute, but Harrison hated him.

Harrison chilling in his timeloop where he can’t be seen:

It’s harder avoiding birds than he thinks. Every time one spots him, his body lurches, magnetized in the direction of the apartment. If it weren’t for the trees he latches onto along the way, he’d already be back at the brownstone listening to Foster lecture him on not being seen and not exploiting his magic. So he becomes more careful. Checks every direction—up down, left, right, diagonally, whatever—until he is certain no one can see him.

Some Stressed Foster dialogue lol I love him protect him at all costs:

“How many times have I told you that you cannot be seen in the timeloop? I woke up with a migraine five minutes ago and when I went to find you, realized you’d slipped out. Do you know how my brain feels when you stretch the timeloop like that? It feels like someone’s cracking it. My brain, a walnut. You, a nutcracker. Not to mention, you didn’t even leave a note. What if you were robbed? Or murdered? What if they dismembered you and I had no idea?

so that’s this project! don’t see any reason to stop writing it, so I’ll make an update on it soon! :) let me know if you have any more q’s!

#asks #writing #fostered #seventhvirtue

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spooderboyandtincan · 4 years

Text

Presumed Dead

TW: Self destructive behavior, mentions of blood, mentions of needles, mentions of starving (not intentional)

“Peter, please, just a few bites,” May murmured. “You’re going to get sick, honey.”

Peter stared blankly at the food, silent. He shook his head.

“Peter. Oh sweetie,” she whispered. She stirred the spoon in the soup. “Maybe later?”

May got up from the bed, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Natasha looked up.

“He’s still not eating. I- I don’t know what to do.”

Nat sighed. “Does he talk?”

“No. Nothing.”

“We can get Bruce to set him up on an IV,” she suggested.

“He hates needles. He probably won’t let him. He’d only let Tony-” May winced.

They heard a gut-wrenching sob from behind the closed door.

~~~~~

Steve paced the length of the living room.

The silence was new.

Something they couldn’t get used to.

Bruce had disappeared. So had Rhodey.

Thor had left for Asgard as soon as he heard.

No one had seen Happy in days.

Nat, May and Pepper curled on the couch together. Clint hovered behind them. Sam stood off to the side, looking worried.

“How’s Pete?” Steve asked.

May shook her head. “He’s not doing so good. Won’t eat. Won’t talk.”

“God. We’re supposed to take care of him. Tony’s gone. It’s our job now,” Steve muttered.

Tony’s dead.

“It’s our job. You’re right,” Clint said. “May… you’ve known him for the longest… what do you think we should do?”

May shrugged helplessly. “Even I don’t know. He’s devastated.”

“Peter- I think he just can’t. He can’t eat, can’t talk,” Pepper added.

“He needs to. We- we can’t lose him too,” Clint said.

The thought of losing Peter, their bright, cheerful boy, was almost too much to think of.

~~~~~

Peter staggered to his feet. He leaned against the wall to keep himself upright.

He was weak.

Skinny.

Hungry.

He wasn’t Spider-Man. Not anymore.

He wasn’t anybody.

Peter didn’t realize he was biting his knuckles until the taste of blood stung his mouth.

Blood. Tony’s blood. Everywhere

Nothing but blood

The Iron Man helmet

Stained and dented

Nothing else

No Tony

No suit

Just the helmet and blood

Tony’s blood

Peter collapsed, knocking his head against the wall. He landed on the shards of glass, from when he had thrown his Iron Man snowglobe through the window.

He sobbed, the glass slicing his palms and knees. But he didn’t care.

Tony was gone.

He was dead.

It was all his fault.

He choked, gasping for air, clawing at his neck. “Mr. Stark!” he screamed. “Mr. Stark!”

Nonono why did he leave?

Why did he leave me?

“Mr. Stark! Why did you leave me?! I need you!” he wailed.

Shards pierced through his jeans. He could hear footsteps running up the stairs. It was too loud.

Tooloudtooloudtooloud

Mr. Stark! Help me!

I can’t breathe

“Peter!”

It was May. But he didn’t want May. He wanted Tony.

Tony was dead.

Peter screamed.

~~~~~

“He collapsed?” Helen asked, bandaging Peter’s small, bloody hands. “Did he hit his head?”

“No,” May said anxiously, wringing her hands. “He was already on the ground.”

“He’s unhealthily thin, and extremely dehydrated. He hasn’t eaten anything?”

“No. He refused.”

“I’ll have to set him up on an IV,” she said, already gathering equipment.

“Can’t- can’t he just go one more day? Maybe he’ll eat.”

“May,” Cho said sternly. “You’re a nurse. You know he needs this.”

“He hates needles…” she whispered.

“I know. But I’d rather have him alive with needles in him than dead without.”

May flinched at the severity of her words. Just then Nat, Sam, Steve, Pepper and Clint sprinted in.

“How’s Peter?” Pepper asked urgently.

May sighed. “We’re putting him on an IV. He’s really sick.”

“What happened to his hands?” Clint asked, stepping forward.

“Glass. His window was broken. I guess he fell on it.”

The team stared in shock at the boy, pale and still, far too thin. Tear tracks were fresh on his cheeks, his jeans bloodied, his hands bandaged.

Where was the happy, energetic, cheerful Peter they all knew?

Dead, along with Tony?

~~~~~

Peter woke up.

But he didn’t want to.

The grief and anguish hit him in waves.

“Tony,” he whispered. “Mr. Stark?”

“Dad?”

Nothing.

He held back a sob. He tried to bring his hand to his face, but it was pulled back.

An IV?

He looked around.

Medbay.

He remembered screaming. Glass. And the blood.

So much blood.

He could hear talking, outside the door.

He didn’t want to listen.

~~~~~

“It’s been five days since we found… you know, Tony,” Sam muttered. “Peter hasn’t eaten, had water, or left his room for five days.”

“Yeah, Sam. That’s why he’s on an IV,” Clint snapped.

“I know, I know. But he’s destroying himself. We can’t just let it happen.”

Nat sighed. “He’s grieving… what can we do?”

They stood in silence.

It wasn’t silent for long.

There was a set of footsteps thundering up the stairs. The team spun around, pulling out various weapons, guns, tasers, shields, and May grabbing a potted plant from the hallway table.

The door burst open, nearly cracking the wall, and there was... Tony?

They stared at him blankly. “Tony?” May whispered, lowering the plant.

His clothes were ragged and torn, his face bruised and bloody, and his left leg bandaged heavily. He was panting, looking terrified.

“Where’s Peter?!” he asked, frantically, voice trembling. “Why isn’t he with you?! Is he okay?!”

May was the first to step forward. “The hell he isn’t okay!” she nearly snarled. “He thinks you’re dead!” She looked like she was about to slap him.

“He- he what…?” Tony muttered. Then he was sprinting to his kid.

~~~~~

Peter’s hospital room was dark. The only sounds were the whirring of the IV and Peter’s choked, staggered breathing.

“Petey?” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Nothing.

He walked closer. Peter stared listlessly at the light blue walls, eyes blank.

The joyful, child-like, bright spark that his eyes had held was gone.

Oh god. What had he done?

“Peter,” he murmured, “Petey. It’s okay now. I’m here. We’re okay.”

Silence.

Tony realized his hands were shaking violently.

He’d never seen Peter like this.

“Petey, you’re scaring me. Please, mimmo, look at me. I’m right here.”

Carefully, gently, he bent, squatting by the bed, and touched Peter’s shoulder. “Pete? I’m here, baby. You’re okay.”

He was terrified at the blank, lifeless look in Peter’s eyes.

This was all his fault.

He gently tapped Peter’s soft cheek. “Petey? Please, baby. I’m here. I’m here. Dad’s here.”

Peter’s big brown eyes gazed at him, confused, uncomprehending. Tony watched, heart pounding, stroking Peter’s cheek.

“‘M I dead?” the boy whispered.

Tony flinched. “No- no, no sweetheart. You’re here, you’re alive, you’re breathing. We’re okay.”

“You’re dead. You’re gone. You left me,” Peter said dully. “Why’d you leave?”

“Petey, no, I’m not gone. I’ll never leave you. Ever.” Tony ran a hand through Peter’s curls. “Feel that? I’m here, Petey, I’m real. We’re okay.”

Peter looked at him, eyes wide. Tony smiled gently.

Suddenly, that boy was launching himself up in bed, sobbing hysterically. Tony lunged forward, catching him and pulling him onto his lap.

Peter sobbed, tears and snot dripping down his face, which he pressed into Tony’s chest. He hugged Tony tightly, cries muffled.

Tony cradled him close. God, he was so thin.

He kissed the boy’s hair, murmuring words of comfort, rocking him back and forth.

“Mr. Stark, I thought you were dead!” Peter wailed. “IthoughtyouweredeadIthoughtyouleftme!Mr. Stark!”

“Shh, shh, Peter, I’ll never leave you, I will never, ever leave you. I will always be here. It’s okay, bambino. I got you.” Tony squeezed him tightly.

Peter choked and gasped. Tony could feel his rapid heartbeat.

He couldn’t bear it when his kid cried. It physically hurt. And knowing he’d caused it…

“Petey, you’re going to hyperventilate, please, don’t cry. Please, baby, it’s okay. I got you. It’s okay,” Tony pleaded. He rubbed circles on Peter’s back, taking exaggerated breaths for Peter to follow. Tears were welling up in his own eyes.

Peter was, in fact, struggling to breathe. Tony desperately tried to comfort him, kissing his button nose, holding him tight, rubbing his back.

Instinctively, he began humming, rocking Peter like a baby, stroking his cheek.

Slowly, Peter’s sobs dissolved into whimpers and strangled versions of “Mr. Stark” and “Dad.”

Tony could feel each knob of Peter’s ribs, how he trembled violently, how cold he felt. He tried not to think of how much pain Peter had been in without eating.

“We need to get you some ice cream, sweetheart,” he choked out. “Maybe cookies?”

Peter buried his face further into Tony’s chest. He could hear him sniff, nodding.

“Mr. Stark? I missed you,” Peter whispered.

“I missed you too, baby, I missed you so much. I will never, never leave you again. Ever.”

~~~~~ Tag List: @imissyoutoo @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @roxanac34 @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @hold-our-destiny@spiderman-lover @jami161 @scwene-qween

If anyone wants to be added/ removed let me know!

~~~~~

/DO NOT TAG OR REBLOG AS ST*RKER/

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