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ayamturd · 3 years

Text

late│technoblade

summary: three times you said i love you, and the one time technoblade says it back

prompt: “I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to”

warnings: fluff and major angst, blood and death descriptions, dsmp spoilers

pairing: in-game romantic!technoblade

a/n: this is my entry for @burntcilantro‘s 500 writing event!! much love and congratulatory to min, they’re an amazing writer and an even better person (they’re so nice, give them the support they deserve)

also i separated some of the dsmp events and spaced them out (so there’s more time between for plot purposes lol)

wc: (2.0k) - m.list

“Why are you so stupid?”

You were sat on top of a chest, holding one leg with your arms while the other was currently being wrapped by Technoblade. While you giggled at his insult, you winced once he tightened the gauze on your ankle with a glare.

“It’s not funny, y/n.” He leaned down to bite off the rest of the wrapping, finishing the fold as you huffed at his seriousness.

“I told you to watch the house, not climb onto the roof and play a fun game of risk. What were you thinking?”

His stare was heavy and made you feel little as he looked down at you. The tone of the room changed as you lost the humor in the situation, his concern overpowered by the anger laced in his voice.

“I just wanted to help,” you stated, turning your face away, discouraged, with your arms crossed. “You’ve been getting the all the resources lately and haven’t let me even step off the damn property.”

Looking down, you fiddled with your fingers as to avoid his gaze. “I wanted to try and fix the wood panelings that have been leaking, that’s all.”

The silence was harsh, and you swallowed deeply at how uncomfortably stiff the air became. Technoblade opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it shut with no words to voice.

With a shaky breath, you gripped the edge of the wood and slowly lowered yourself onto your foot; you didn’t plan on staying here just so he couldn’t say anything more. Technoblade was quick to steady his arms around you in case you fell, but you immediately pushed his hand away aggressively and stood with all your weight on your healthy foot.

Arms out to balance, as you tried to take the first step on your bad foot, you crumpled into your self with a yelp from the pain and collapsed. Ready as always, Techno caught you from behind and guided you to the nearest chair.

You flinched from the small movement but sighed once sitting again. Techno crouched in front of you to check how you physically were, but your eyes were closed shut as you tried to collect your breathing.

“Y/n,” Techno call out. Calming yourself down, you opened your eyes to meet his; he was much more sincere before, his face soft as he spoke gently to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” Looking down, Technoblade paused as to gather his thoughts before explaining himself further.

“I know I’ve been overbearing since the attempted execution,” you reached a hand towards his cheek when he mentioned the recent event, which he leaned into as he continued with closed eyes, “but please know it’s from a place of concern. I just- I don’t want anything to happen to you. I can’t let anything happen to you. I-I…”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” You spoke for him as you pulled him into your chest, hugging his large frame as best as you could. He relaxed into your hold with a sigh of relief.

“I love you, Techno.” You kissed the top of his head, and he only burrowed himself deeper into the hug.

“I’m so sorry, love.”

Technoblade was hunched over on the front lawn, hands on his head while trembling from the overwhelming pain of the voices. He whimpered at your words, indicating he heard you to some extent.

He had come home, alone, and fell to his knees at the sight of you when you opened the door. Immediately, you had rushed over to him and skid to your own knees to comfort him, but he grunted from your attempts to touch him; even when under the influence, he was still conscious enough to fear for your own safety relative to the blind rage of the voices.

You had tried talking to him, attempted to get him to give you any context to what was causing his anger, which he answered with snarling growls in return. “Tommy… left… betrayed. Chose government.”

While broken into murmured words, you understood instantly and tried to bring him back in spite needing to quench your own anger from Tommy’s departure. You rested your palms into the snow, lowering your head as much as possible to meet his bowed head.

You peered up at him despite his own eyes screwed shut from the unbearable chaos that roared within his head, and called out to him as softly as you could. It was a stretch, but you hoped you could soothe him down by talking.

“Hey bubs, just listen to my voice, alright? You hear me now yes? You can understand what I’m saying?” Patiently waiting, you watched him closely until he gave the smallest nod, fists still pushed against his skull and twisting from the ache.

“That’s good, that’s really good, love. You hear my voice, now listen to my words.” Slowly, you leaned close enough to whisper to him directly.

“I’m here, okay? I’m so sorry about Tommy, I know how much you cared for him. I still care for him too, and I know it hurts right now, but rest assured I’m still here. I’m here Techno, and I’m never leaving you.”

With clenched teeth, he let out a sob at your declaration and pushed his head against you. You took his permission to touch him promptly, gripping him with as much strength as you could carry so he felt stable and secure.

You squeezed him, desperate to ground him from slipping further, and rocked the both of you. He released a shuttered breath, and you kissed his skin gently.

“I love you, you know? I will always be here and I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

He clutched you with his entire being, your words and presence more than he could ever ask and want.

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?”

You grinned widely at his words, smile almost sadistic as you glanced at him with your arms propped on the axe you carried above your shoulders.

“What ever could you mean?” Despite the roll of his eyes, he did nothing to hide his own amusement to your eagerness to the upcoming destruction you were to bring. He chuckled, his deep laughter making you smile more softly to how genuine he was as you walked besides him. Hand raised to wave his rocket launcher, he focused ahead proud.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” Turning to look at you again, you stared at him adoringly and smirked slightly while bashful to his confident manner. “We are indeed.”

It became relatively silent as you walked through the layered snow, feet crunching from your steady pace. You continued to take random glances at him, Technoblade doing the same until you both heard a loud groan.

“My god, you two are insufferable, I can’t deal with this right now.” Dream sneered at you specifically, as if you were the cause for his own discomfort, and walked through you both.

“I’ll meet you guys there instead, but hurry.” Swiftly, he pulled out an ender pearl and threw it a few yards ahead towards the portal, his figure disappearing altogether.

You stared in disbelief from his actions until a cough interrupted your thoughts once more. “You know what,” Phil avoided looking at you both, his hands tapping together awkwardly as he walked ahead as well but turned to address you while moving backwards.

“I’ll see you guys there too, just, be sure to be quick?” You both nodded wordlessly, and he took his leave in fast haste.

Standing there alone, you risked another glance at him and met his eyes, laughing loudly at the circumstances.

Technoblade held a hand to his face, body shaking from his laughter while you were endlessly giggling, holding your stomach from the pain. Eventually, your fits faded with large smiles, and you faced him with a shake of your head.

“I didn’t realize we’d be one of those couples.” Technoblade sighed, though you could tell it was for play, and nodded. “A shame really, I never thought this day would come.”

You giggled again, and chose to move closer, tilting your head upwards at him with a sweet beam while leaning onto your axe. He gave you a small smile in return, however his faded immediately after.

Lifting his open hand, he cupped your cheek and bent down to kiss your forehead, touching yours together after with his eyes closed. “Promise me you’ll be safe? I trust you to protect yourself, but for me, stay safe when things start to go bad?”

While you knew it was impossible to guarantee you’d stay away from the majority of the danger, you knew better than to leave his concern unanswered and open.

“I promise,” you murmured, “for you, I promise.”

He pulled you against his chest this time, engulfing you completely and holding the back of your head earnestly to his heart.

“I love you,” you voiced, your words muffled into his armor and coat. He hummed while looking ahead, his eyes trained on the glowing portal that called towards him. This was a war he refused to leave with mercy, the price of your peaceful lives together on the line.

“No…”

There was too much blood. The thick liquid stained every surface and soaked through his coat that he pushed against your wound.

Internally panicking from your tight expressions of discomfort, Technoblade desperately searched through his inventory for something, anything, that could heal or at the very least help you. He was forced to face the reality that he used all his potions during the midst of battle and combat. He couldn’t do anything.

“Why, why why,” he snarled, his eyes clouding with an outset of tears he couldn’t care for. “Why are you so stupid.” His voice caught in his throat from his conflicted emotions and he tightened his hold on the fabric pushed against your stomach; the pain had faded at this point, and you were numb to the constant pressure he tried to hold.

“I’m so sorry, love. I lied.” Your voice was light and strained, but Technoblade refused to accept the situation for what it was. He turned to a perched crow, screaming at it to get Phil and scaring it away with a slash of his sword, before tucking his head down in an almost silent plea.

“Why do you have to be too reckless for your own good?” he whispered. Though he tried to be delicate, he couldn’t help how tight he held your hand.

“I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to.” You gave a tired grin as your eyes began to droop, hand tightening on his, however incredibly weak in comparison.

“I asked you to be safe,” he cried, body stricken with grief as he abandoned his hold on your stomach and instead shakily held your face, your own blood smearing against your skin from his callous fingers. “I needed you safe.”

You placed a hand over his, using all your strength to relish in his touch and kissing the inner of his palm. “Yet you needed my love more.”

He choked out a sob from your admittance, and pulled you into his chest, your body limp, as he rocked you slightly. “I’ll always be there for you, and love you more than I could for my own safety.”

The ruins echoed the wails of a tormented heart on the broken landscape of a haunted battlefield that called for death and devastation. The smoke and clouds of destruction reigned above, and despite the final end to the corrupted nation that was built on nothing but lies and deceit after a helpless man’s death, Technoblade couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I love you,” he uttered, the words he struggled for oh so long to express finally free from its cage. “I love you, y/n. I love you so much.”

His words fell on deaf ears, and he screamed in agony at the truth that laid before him.

He was too late.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x gn!reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dream smp x reader #dream smp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you

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doctorslippery · 4 years

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The Pillar of First Blood – A 15ft dark stone pillar that has engraved writing on each side ‘The spot where the first blood was split between a batch of common devils”.

The Drawing Moss – A smooth stone with a bunch of growing moss on it. Touching the stone with a bare hand results in the moss slowing moving to wherever was touched. On the stone are several handprints and doodles perfectly covered over with the moss.

Curci’s Crypt – A small white stone structure deep in the woods with carvings of trees on each side. Entering brings you into the hidden crypt of Curci.

The Crumbling Shack – Far away from any civilization lays what once was a small shack. The windows are broken, some walls have crumbled away, and parts of the roof are open and fallen in.

Trio of Faces – On the side of a rocky cliff are a well carved trio of protruding faces all looking the same direction

Cone Shaped Prison – In the middle of a grassy field stands an 8ft slim cone made of iron bars, in the middle of the structure lies a sun-bleached skeleton bound in iron shackles.

The Tree of Sacrifice – A abnormally large and oddly pale brown tree where the branches are twisted, and the leaves are a sickly saturated green color. At the base of the tree lies a blood stained alter that the roots of the tree have grown around it and now hold it in place. The base of the tree as well as the ground around the alter are permanently stained a deep red. If the tree is cut, a thick blood sap seeps out of wound. If a creature is sacrificed on the alter, the blood pools near where the roots touch the alter and are absorbed while what appear to be veins appear on the tree that go up into the branches.

The Bone Pit – In an open field there is a 10ft wide and 50ft deep pit with no life growing around it. The walls of this chasm are lined with dark cobblestone and going down there are three uneven sized holes that are covered by iron bars. At the bottom there are a large pile of bones.

The Odd Stone Slab – A big square stone slab rests hidden near the side of the road. Carved into the slab is a symbol and a riddle that upon answering correctly leads to a small dungeon.

The Copper Fox – A 4ft oxidized copper statute of a fox with a small locked box in its mouth and two ruby eyes.

The Pointing Eagle – On top of a large rock formation is a big iron statue of an eagle pointing its body to the east.

The Feasting Table – Out away from any kind of civilization sits a large gray solid stone table with ancient carvings on the sides. Upon its surface are newly lit candles and a banquet of food that seems to be warm, fresh, and untouched by its surroundings. If one where to eat or take anything from the table, the next day it would be completely restocked and replenished.

The Jeweled Bush – A seemingly average looking berry bush that happens to grow small jewels instead of berries. If one where to try and consume one of the jewels picked off of the bush within 24hrs, that person gains a temporary magical effect or bonus, otherwise it’s a normal jewel.

The Ice Blood Spot – Located on the cliff face of a large mound of ice there is one spot that is dark red instead of the pure blue that surrounds it.

Dragon’s Graveyard – in a valley, there are 8-10 adult dragon skeletons, half-buried.

Petunia, the Land Whale – A large whale skeleton surrounded by petunias. The whale is miles away from the sea and the petunias aren’t native to this location.

Wondrous Obelisk – an obelisk, comprised of rose quartz and decorated with sylvan runes, appears to be of fey origin. it is surrounded in a 120-foot field of wild magic.

The Old Folk Hero – A half erected statue of an old folk hero. Either under construction or half crumbled.

The Hope Tree – It’s an oak tree with the word hope carved into it in large letters. No one knows who did it or why, but it’s turned into a useful landmark for the local village.

The Moon’s Egg – It’s a massive dome-like stone formation that shines pearlescent in the moonlight. It lays in a bare outcropping of rock and is warm to the touch.

Hollering Pit – A 50ft deep sinkhole. Well-hidden at the bottom is the lair of an accomplished burglar who calls himself the Jeweler. He’s too old to do much in the way of harm, but the countless traps he installed are not.

The Painted Cliff Face – A cliff that has been entirely covered in paint from hundreds of people.

Threeshades Tower- A weathered, ivy-mantled square tower atop a small hill. Has three levels, and each is built from a different kind of stone. The longsword stuck in one of the bricks on the top level is +1 and can project the bearer’s voice up to 50’ away.

Pigeons’ Chest – an ornate, but empty, chest of silver and pearl sitting by the road. It will not move by any means yet discovered, material nor magical.

The Ol’ Inn – The ancient ruins of a strangely ‘modern-looking’ tavern located in the deepest patches of forest. No path leads to it, no other buildings or ruins are found besides it, but dozens of deformed footsteps can be found heading out of the site. At night, the faint, muffled sound of a single viol can be heard coming out of the muddy floor.

The Forgotten Emperor’s Statue – An incredibly detailed, broken bust of a young wood elf, bearing a red crown. Its nose and left ear are missing and where its left eye should be, the socket is destroyed, and a monstrously decomposed snake eye can be found. The base has a bronze plaque which reads (in broken Celestial): ‘The only one truly meant to rule’, followed by a name which seems scratched out.

The Candle Trees – deep in the woods, a small group of trees whose leaves are bright red. They contrast starkly with the normal trees around them. The Candle trees appear otherwise normal, but the dried leaves can be brewed into a tea that warms the bones even on the coldest nights.

Tale of a Desert’s Origin – A granite obelisk in the desert with glyphs on it. It seems to tell the tale of a very powerful magic user stealing all the life from this area, killing all the plants and turning it into a desert.

The Waning Waterfall – a small waterfall that appears to reverse direction on every night with a bright full moon, running up instead of down.

The Sandmount – There’s a strange dune of sand in the middle of this grassy field, covered in scorpions.

The Awoken Stones – three stone pillars at the top of a hill, each engraved with a different rune of no known language. The pillars appear to change positions, but how this is done is unknown.

Ghost village – There’s a half-buried village in the sand, with sandstone walls being the only remnants… except for one house, which has a simple roof and door carved into the stone.

Impossible Shipwreck – Dashed upon the rocks are the remains of a large merchant ship. Weathered and ancient, the skeletons of the crew still scattered around though most everything of value has long since been looted. The most peculiar thing about this is that the rocks, and ship, are in a cavern 100ft underground, miles from the nearest navigable waters.

Sapphire Beach – a small stretch of coastline hidden between two nigh-inaccessible cliff faces. The sand is particularly fine and a brilliant blue. Rumor has it that the sand was formed when giants destroyed the jewel horde of a local dragon. There are also rumors of a dragon being sighted in the oceans nearby. Digging deep into the sands turn up giant bones.

The Lovers’ Spring – a secluded hot spring, with the initials of many young lovers carved into nearby rocks. Discarded and forgotten undergarments can be found on tree branches in the area.

The Arms of the Last Bard – A broken but thick 15ft wide half-circle embedded to the ground made of quartz and intricately laced with gold strips. An assortment of precious gems are embedded in its surface. Any attempt to collect and/or destroy this construct will cause severe psychic damage and a loud high-pitched tone to play loudly. The half-circle aligns perfectly with sunset/sunrise and every time it does, the most beautiful flute melody plays that is sourceless.

The Iron Tree – A big, old tree which seems to be made of iron, but as far as anyone can tell, is alive and growing, if slowly.

Hades’ Hand – A 15ft tall stone hand stretches from the ground, reaching for the sky.

The Stone Toad – A gigantic stone carving of a toad’s head, crumbling, half-buried, and covered in moss.

The Wrecked Ship – The sun-bleached wreckage of a ship that ran aground long ago. Inside the hull is a massive cage with thick steel bars that appear to have been smashed outward from the inside.

The Three-Sided Tower – A half-collapsed stone tower with curious triangular architecture. The bones of a lonely watchman sitting in a chair lie atop it. The watchman wears a helmet shaped like a triangular pyramid. Several towers of this type can be found around the same area.

Giant’s Playground – this field is entirely stone, and many massive footprints can be seen stomped into it. There are boulders laying around, some cracked.

The Fallen Hero – The legs of a giant metal statue standing beside the top of a waterfall overlooking the valley below. At the bottom of the lake below the falls, the head and torso can be found. It appears to be the likeness of a famous ancient hero that a PC might recognize.

The Charity Cave – A cave with a chest that says, ‘if you take something, leave something.’ It’s unlocked and has several trinkets inside.

The Eye of the Moon – on top of this hill is a pool surrounded with stone. The water is always cool, and at night the full moon can always be seen in its reflection, regardless of clouds or moon cycle.

Bigfoot – A large tree in the forest that bends and splits in such a way that the bottom looks like a foot, with toes.

Goddess of Death Statue – A worn smooth but still recognizable ancient statue of a goddess of death. At her feet sets a black stone bowl filled with fresh rose petals. If you were to kneel down at the bowl and look up at her, you would see her eyes stare unwaveringly into yours.

The Red Altar – in the middle of a copse in a strange swamp lies a smooth altar made of red stone, with strange carvings of trees and water all around its base. Upon touching the altar, you will hear a voice in your mind ‘sacrifice”, and you will feel a strange primal urge to sacrifice a creature on top of it.

Timnar’s Beard – A copse of trees growing in a single spot on an otherwise barren mountain. Unbeknownst to the world, it is the burial place of a great wizard of earthen magics. It is watched over by a trio of stone golems and a handful of slumbering treants to guard the immense knowledge held within the tomb.

The Sundered Mount – a mountain that appears to have been cleaved in two and creating two crumbling peaks with a narrow cut of a valley between them. It does not appear naturally created.

The Mage Wastes – A region where fertile grassland suddenly stops and abruptly becomes a barren wasteland of decaying grass and reddish soil. It seems as if it was the sight of some magical battle. The ground is pocked with craters and scorch marks, yet it seems as if this battle was an ancient long finished, but the battlefield has remained a wasteland frozen in time.

The Dragons Maw – A series of jutting tooth like spires of black igneous rock which rise out from the sea. These “teeth” have proven to be an extreme hazard to sailors and shipping which pass too near to them. Tearing hulls and ripping sails.

The Gods Sacrament Statue -A old weathered statue of a god with beautiful gems inlaid and surrounded with wicker basket offerings of gold, flowers, food, and trinkets. Stealing from the statue result in a curse (permanent level of exhaustion) from the deity until either greater restoration is cast on the thief or they repent and make an offering of twice the amount stolen. Award inspiration for respectful offerings or prayers given to the statue.

The Dragonblood – A massive artwork carved into a boulder placed some ways away from the banks of a nearby river. The artwork seems to depict a struggle between giants and dragons, with the giants as the victors. The faintly red runes which line it are giantish, and anyone who can decipher them will read that it marks a momentous battle between giants and dragons, over which should decide the course of the river.

The Daughter of the Sun – An enormous stone of a singular soft yellow color. It is hot to the touch but by day it is warm and comfortable simply standing near it. By night however the stone begins to glow brightly, illuminating its surroundings in radiant golden light. Large chips of the same stone can be found in the foliage growing around it. With similar glowing properties.

Would you kindly -A sentient door in the side of a mountain that has short term memory loss. He has no idea of his name or how to open himself but enjoys talking with travelers none the less. Speaking the magic word “please” will cause the door to open revealing a shortcut through the mountain. No form of magic or otherwise can lead through or get around this door without speaking the magic word due to an ancient magical barrier.

The Bread Boy – a small statue in a park depicting a street urchin. In one hand he has what is left of a small loaf of bread. With the other hand he is spreading crumbs for the birds, so they do not go hungry too. A place where the street kids gather.

Sculpture Garden – a small clearing in a forest, near a cave mouth, contains dozens of statues of humanoid creatures, many armed & armored, all with looks of surprise & horror on their stone faces.

Saben’s Cauldron – a large, circular pool off of a main river which is geothermally heated.

The Teeth – a series of vaguely conic stone spires lined up along a gentle arc. Each is over 15ft tall and 5ft across at the base, and tapers to a narrow tip. Nobody knows the origin of this formation. Some say the teeth are all that remains from some colossal dragon skeleton, others think the stones were placed there by a dragon cult, or as a sign from Bahamut.

Mage-Crater – a 120ft diameter crater. Now filled with water and inhabited by pond creatures.

The Old Man – a natural rock formation that just happens to look like the face of an old man with a long beard. Ruins of temples from several ancient civilizations can be found in the valley below, apparently attracted there to worship the face, or perhaps just to be under his watchful gaze. Most humanoid races in the region are sure the old man looks like their race and have their own legend about him.

The Deino Flats -roughly 40 acres of salt flats. A long dried up saltwater marsh from ancient times.

Grand Defender – a large, symmetrical hill where the site of a great battle once was. Stone rubble and ruins barely peaks out from the top. Flowers are left there every so often.

The Adventurers Billiard Hall – A stone statue of a Local adventurer rests on a green glass dome in the center of a public lake. The dome is lit gently from beneath. Somewhere nearby lies a dilapidated entrance which runs through a small puzzle focused dungeon.

Turned-Inn – An inn that has been carefully constructed to appear as if it was turned upside-down.

The Signposts – A collection of several dozen poles each with a dozen or more signs mounted to them pointing towards various distant lands, nearby businesses, and bizarre joke locations. It started with travelers who erected a signpost pointing to their distant homelands which other travelers added to. Eventually it got out of hand.

Worm’s Desert – A small sandy desert only a couple hundred acres in size of so. A great desert-making worm arrived from another world and sought to covert the world into an ecosystem like its home but caught a local disease it was unresistant to and died before it made much progress. The residual poison from the worm’s body deters plants from overtaking the sand.

Lightning Lab – A bizarre building with a strange mushroom-shaped metal lattice on top. It was the lab of a researcher studying non-magical electricity who died from electrocution.

The Sandlot – A square of property with no building where children come to play. A greedy landlord raised the rent on a long-term elderly tenant when they purchased the property, driving the tenant into poverty and eventually death. The tenant cursed the land with dying breath that no-one would never profit from the property. Every future tenant was driven out by terrifying haunts, and eventually the building was burned down.

Dwarven Monument – An enormous high relief of six dwarven warriors cut from a cliff pointing the way along, commemorating their epic journey.

Atlas Boulders A series of differently sized large stone spheres far too large for a man to lift. The strongest giants would lift them to prove their strength. They sometimes move, so perhaps the giants still use them.

Ancient Battlefield – ramparts, high hills, and trenches filled with water that stretch for mile marking the location an ancient battlefield. It has grown over.

The Epicenter – A large swath of woods where all the trees in a massive circle have been bent at a 90-degree angle towards the center but continue to grow that way. There is nothing (currently) anomalous at the center, but a powerful coven of druids hold it as one of their holiest places and guards it closely.

Ol Demons Place – a once portal to the abyss, sealed by hero’s long ago, now just a crumbling arch with an unsettling aura.

The Broken Hill – a hill that you need to walk uphill to get to and walk uphill to get away from.

The Rooster of Mourning – An enormous statue of a rooster, made from a strange metal, finely detailed and colored. It is hollow, and when the first ray of sunrise strikes it, a great, sad-sounding crow arises from it. Legend says that it commemorates a great battle in the distant past.

The Angry Spot – a small stone platform on the top of a hill, standing on the platform makes a person irrationally angry. Barbarians may involuntarily rage as a result.

The Alter of a Thousand Arms. – At a crossroads sits an unusual statue, made of stone it stands over 10 feet tall and has arms sticking out in every direction with their palm turned upwards. In nearly every hand there is a candle, some still lit but most are fully melted. Placing a candle in one of the hands and lighting it will give the player the blessing of ‘A helping hand.’ When a player next fails a roll, they may roll an additional d6 and add it to their total.

The Weeping Sister – A fifteen-foot statue of a girl unmarred by time. Next to her are the shattered remains of another statue, close enough that the body may have once held her outstretched hand. The feet of this larger statue are all that remain affixed to the earth – the rest is scattered throughout the clearing. Water, clean and pure, travels down her face in steady rivulets but leaves no erosion there.

The Sensible Stone Head -a large stone head protruding from the surface of a glacier. It is the head of an earth elemental and if you get his attention, he is friendly. If asked what he is doing their he replies ”swimming in the river”, given he exists at a geological place the slow flow of the glacier is like a river to him.

Glass Tree – A fairly tall an elaborate tree made entirely out of glass raises from the earth, at its base there is a plaque written in dwarven, it’s to commemorate a dwarf leader who fell in battle.

The Titan’s Blade – A 50 ft rust covered sword driven into the earth. The whole area has a magical aura and no wildlife lingers within a quarter mile of the sword.

The Well of Good Tidings – A well by the side of the road that is a base in a local hafling tradition that if one where to lose a tooth, that it is to be tossed in the well with a tip of the hat. When doing so, good fortune is sure to come. Characters that throw in teeth later find small amounts of wet coins in various locations on their person. Characters that throw rubbish, or are otherwise disrespectful of the well, find their respective objects on their person once more soaking wet and covered in bite marks.

Skilltown – A small but clearly once-bustling town lays abandoned inside of a titan’s skull. The skull is half buried in the sand; its eye sockets and mouth aim up at an angle. Walking through its mouth is the only way to enter the town. The skull looks to be that of an enormous version of whatever scariest creature lives in that area. It provides ample shade during most of the day.

Best Rest Graveyard – A cleric once prayed over a graveyard that all within would ‘rest well.’ Now anyone who falls asleep in that graveyard has the best night of sleep they’ve ever had.

Bird Hill – a grassy hill of noticeable height rises from the otherwise flat plains. On the hill are several lines of cobblestone that do not grow grass and have no discernible pattern from the surface. If flying, however, you see the cobblestone lines form the shape of a bird, along with some arcane symbols. If you happen to look up during the spring or fall, you’ll see migratory birds alter their course to fly over this hill.

Stairway to Nowhere – All that remains of an ancient fortress, the remarkably well constructed staircase rises for 3 stories out of the ground at the end of an ancient road, and then just abruptly stops.

The Crossroads – This is the place where four kingdoms meet. The main road for each lead to a massive stone pillar. Many years ago, all four kingdoms were at war, and a pillar was placed there as a symbol that none from neighboring kingdoms would be allowed to cross. It is now an annual meeting place for the four to discuss their continued amnesty.

Cloudland Canyon – It’s a canyon nestled in a northern mountain range that’s so high even the base of the canyon is a higher elevation than most of the other mountains in this world. Wondrously magical things occur here.

Stone Tree Garden – It was a garden from a former ancient culture, which vanished out of unknown reasons. One of the only things found was this tree garden. Are the trees made of stone or turned to, no one knows.

‘The Circle’ -There once was a meteorite which crashed into the land. The first to arrive found weird writing in a (Insert required size) diameter circle. No one could read what was written. In the center of the circle, where the meteor should have been, there was nothing, not even a small crater.

The Well – A seemingly normal well on the top of a hill. Anything that is placed into it is immediately tossed out of it.

The Pariah’s Mountain -One mountain among an otherwise unimpressive range, its only defining feature is its completely upside down. The base measures about 60ft across, but the peak 3,000ft up is easily a mile across. Stairs may have been carved into the side, but the climb down to the summit (or is it up to the base? The locals aren’t quite sure) is precarious at times. The locals are also similarly vague when asked about what’s on top…

Worried stones – A group of 3 standing stones with anxiety. When encountered in their clearing, they will disappear once all eyes are off them. Careful inspection will reveal them to hiding nearby – peeking from behind a nearby tree, bottom of a lake, hidden by bushes, behind where the party is now looking, etc. If discovered, they disappear again if not observed. The stones are not malicious, and do not harm the party. They would just rather you all left them to it, thank you.

The Quiet Creek – An otherwise ordinary creek that runs through a forest. It is abnormally quiet near the stream, in such that there is almost no echo around it, and it is surprisingly hard to hear from a distance. All along its course stand small boulders, almost fully grown over with moss.

The Shifting Hills – A large field of hills, dotted with rocks, grasses, and flowers. Careful study has found the hills are constantly moving, as though old creatures crawl along under a carpet of earth. Magics which call upon the earth always seem to produce unexpected results when among them.

The Devil’s Wager – A large disc shaped stone at the base of a long dormant volcano. Visitors toss a copper at it for good luck. There are a couple hundred copper around it. It is considered extraordinarily bad luck to take the coppers.

The Swordleaf Trees – there is a patch of trees here with a non-stop turbulent wind rustling the leaves and branches violently. The leaves’ edges appear to be razor sharp.

Beacon Mountain – A mountain that, on some nights, has a bright ball of light form over it which slowly dissipates over several hours. Local religion strictly forbids climbing the mountain.

Mist Valley – a short pathway of stone carved into a mountain, roughly five feet wide with names of couples and graffiti on the stone walls. The pathway always has a thick fog settled over it, making it seem eerie.

Ancient Battleground – Deep in a forest, trees are marred with years old axe and sword marks. Hundreds of skeletons dressed in rusted armor and weapons lie in this area. Taking a trinket, or even loitering may be unwise.

True Clarity Bridge – A bridge between two high places that, for many people, while staring off the side, provides answers for their most troubling issue or deep question, whether they were looking for the answer or not.

Lover’s Glade – Two sequoia trees whose bases are over a hundred feet apart have grown together and connect about 160 to 180 feet off the ground. The branches and leaves of these giant trees create a pleasantly shaded area below which is often used by the local populace as sites of wedding ceremonies.

Round Rock – A mysterious perfectly round rock that stands nearly 20ft tall. It is too heavy to roll and never seems to chip. It is the center of many local legends, varying wildly on their truthfulness.

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thecheesiestcheese23 · 3 years

Text

the will to live ( was only a whisper before i went )

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TECHNO'S PHIL'S QUACKITY'S AND SAM'S LORE STREAM

Rumors were hard to ignore.

They spread around, scattered in the wind as more and more people started to believe its faulty truth.

Rumors were hard to ignore, especially when the truth started to leak out. Technoblade had been gone for three months. Three months too long, in Phil’s opinion, but there was nothing he could do now. All he would do was wait and hope that Techno would be able to survive in the prison.

However, Phil would not worry so much if he didn’t know one key factor.

Techno was at one life. He had foolishly lost two of them in hypixel when he was a kid, too cocky and too confident for his own good. One misstep and one swing later, he rested at two lives. One faulty move and one arrow later, he was on his last life. He had learned enough from his mistakes, he told Phil one day, and he made sure to never make them again. He hid it from the rest of the world, joking around and acting as if he was still at three lives, rushing into battle at a moment’s notice.

Phil knew the possibilities of Techno coming back to him alive, and he knew that Techno knew that too. He had seen it in his eyes and in the way he moved, had seen right through him as if he were looking through ice. But he had let him go with a forced smile and a promise that they would see each other again, no matter how long that may be.

A will was placed in his hands with a promise to not open it for three months, but those three months had come and gone, and now the will rested in Phil’s hand, waiting to be opened and read.

Dear Philza Minecraft, the will began with.

I am going to the prison to visit Dream and make sure he’s alright. If I do not return within a few days, activate the pearl I left in our book club’s meeting room.

Of course, their pearl stasis chamber, how could Phil have forgotten? A laugh bubbled up and out of his throat, relief flooding through his body. There was hope after all, and a chance of getting Techno safely back to the Arctic. Not wasting a second more, Phil threw on his coat and ran outside, his wings taking flight.

His wings beat against the harsh winds, snow entangling itself between his feathers and his hair, clutching on for dear life at the speed he flew. Not soon enough, he was at the entrance of the stronghold. He barreled down the lava and landed in the water that rested below. He skidded on the ice, sliding through the corridors as he made his way through all the twists and turns.

He finally made his way to the portal room, hope coursing through his veins as he made his way to where Techno’s seat was and-

Oh.

The pearl was gone.

And with that, Philza broke, collapsing on the stone floor. Cries of anguish echoed throughout the empty room, never to be full again. At least then no one was there to witness him break. Techno was gone- gone for good this time.

And Phil had a strange feeling that even if the pearl was there, it would only teleport back Techno’s remains.

If the pearl is gone, well, it was nice knowing you. Look after the others for me when I’m gone.

____________________

I left my valuables in a barrel hidden in the top floor’s ceiling and a chest under the stone in a corner of that one weird room under the house with the potions. Distribute them as you see fit. Please keep Steve and the foxes well-fed, the wolves can be released into the wilderness.

Steve was curled up on his owner's bed, the bed creaking against his weight. He whined, nose burying itself between his paws.

The foxes pulled at their leads, searching for the one with pink hair and kind words, but to no avail.

Yipping sounded throughout the forest, the once blood-hounds exploring the forest. They searched all around, but could not find the one they had gone to war with.

Tell Ranboo and Niki that they’re stronger than they know.

A knock sounded throughout the near-empty mansion, causing Ranboo to jump. He recognized the pattern of the knocks, a grin forming on his face.

“Phil! You startled me-” Ranboo smiled at the other as he opened the door, but it slipped off of his face as his gaze landed on Phil.

Phil’s hair was ruffled and dried tear tracks covered his face. He avoided eye contact as he spoke, voice wavering.

“Techno’s gone.”

____________________

Niki was working away at her city, beads of sweat forming on her face as she moved objects around. Her city was coming together nicely, and she just needed to put some finishing touches to complete it.

However, she was interrupted by a knock at the entrance. She looked up in curiosity, recognizing the pattern as Phil’s.

“Phil! How nice of you to visit-” She said as she climbed up the staircase, coming face-to-face with Phil. She paused as she took his appearance in. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head wordlessly, “Techno’s gone.”

Tell Tommy that I hope he finds what he’s looking for, whatever that is.

The day was calm with a slight breeze rustling through the trees, a perfect day for Tommy to bring Shroud out.

“Remember what I taught you, big man, stay close to me, don’t wander off, if you see anyone, anyone at all, you alert me, and if I get into trouble, you run all the way back home and hide, okay?”

“Okay!” Shroud happily chirped from where they sat. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Tommy clutched Shroud’s hand, opening the door to reveal Philza, hand raised like he was about to knock.

“Philza Minecraft.” Tommy said, voice cold. He gestured at Shroud to leave the room, which they reluctantly did. “What do you want?”

“It’s about Techno.” Phil looked defeated as he spoke.

Tommy’s heart started to hammer in his chest as a pit started to form in his gut. If Phil was coming to him about Techno- then something was horribly wrong.

“What’s wrong with Techno?” He demanded.

“He’s gone.”

Phil, I’m glad I met you in this life.

“Where is he?”

The Warden looked up from where he sat, not surprised to see Phil’s face.

“Philza, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here to the prison?”

“You know full well why I’m here, and I’m only going to ask once more. Where is Technoblade?” Phil spat out, rage coursing through his veins.

The Warden remained silent, the only sound filling the room being keys typing away.

“Listen, if you don’t give him to me, I’ll destroy this prison bit by bit until all that’s left of it is its charred remains.”

“You want him so bad? Fine.” With that, The Warden typed some words into the computer, and a circular tube similar to a coffin appeared out of the wall.

His heart dropped as he saw the tube, mind screaming as he dared to look at what was inside. He didn’t want to confirm his suspicions- but something urged his body to peer into the tube.

It was Techno’s body, scarred and burnt but still recognizable. He knew that Techno was dead, but confirming it just hurt so much more. “Who.” His voice was quiet, almost muted.

“Quackity.” The Warden simply said, eyes focused on the computer. “He’s in Las Nevadas.”

Phil wordlessly nodded, carefully picking up his body and cradling him in his arms. “Thank you,” with that, Philza walked outside and took off, tears slipping down his face.

For you, the world.

Techno’s grave was placed atop of the mountain.

The gravestone was carved with care, with the prettiest flowers blooming above it.

Five people came to his grave.

Ranboo mourned the loss of his mentor, and at the missed chance of showing Techno his family. He was sure that Michal would have loved Techno, even if the other was cold towards children. Techno’s axe was clenched tightly in his hand, his tears and the snow burning his skin, but he found that he didn’t have the energy to care.

Tubbo stood from afar when he visited, fists at his side as he felt both anger and sadness at the one six feet below. His mind screamed at the other for hurting him, for taking his childhood away so soon, but yet his body stood still as if he was made of stone.

Niki visited when she was sure no one was there, and she cried. She screamed at Techno for leaving and screamed at the world for taking her friend away too soon. She cried and yelled for what seemed like ages until her throat was sore and it felt like she swallowed shards of glass.

Tommy visited when it was still day out, allumins clutched tightly in his hand. He wordlessly planted them in the ground, dirt and tears staining his shirt. When he left, the Axe of Peace rested next to Techno’s grave.

Philza visited last, his feet dragging in the snow. He sat there in front of the grave, mind numb. He didn’t know how long he sat there but he knew that when he got up, it was day once more. Phil didn’t want the world if Techno wasn’t going to be in it, but he knew that Techno would want him to move on.

But there was something he had to do first.

____________________

Clouds of smoke filled the air as a fire raged on Las Nevadas. Three people stood in front of the fire, gazing at the sight before them. Quackity laid dead beneath their feet.

“For Techno.” Phil said.

“For Techno.” They echoed.

I love you.

#technoblade angst #technoblade #philza minecraft #ranboo #niki nihachu #nihachu #tubbo #tommyinnit #quackity #awesamdude #mcyt #angst #dream smp

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nhi-theuserof-this · 4 years

Text

@sharpie-chen I said I’d write a oneshot

@give-grian-rights I have come to feed your brain ideas

TW// depictions of blood(vague), fighting, almost drowning(vague)

All kept vague but are described in detail in the version linked at the very bottom of the post

—

Technoblade.

Blood God. Merciless. Undefeated. The second worst thing to happen to the orphans.

His iconic crown was freshly polished and sitting back at his camp site because he didn’t want it to smudge while raiding a pillager outpost. For a little extra supplies on his journey.

Technoblade would’ve gotten back sooner if it weren’t for the screetching of an endedmen in the distance. Endermen were only aggrivated when attacked or if you made eye contact with them, and Technoblade had done neither meaning someone was nearby.

By the time Technoblade had gotten there, the fight was already over. Blood spattered across a small campsite and a single ender pearl hovering above the ground, a bloody mass slowly moving down the river somewhat covered by a cloak that twisted around it. Whatever had happened simply wasn’t of interest to techno as he snatched up the pearl on the edge of the river and turned back towards his own campsite.

A hand shot out of the mass and yanked on Techno’s cloak, causing Techno to drop his loosely held axe as he fell into the river. Technoblade felt two hands grab him tightly as they pulled him closely to themself.

Technoblade twisted around and kicked off of the figure and immediately began swimming towards the surface, the attacker following closely behind as they were just out of eachothers reach. Technoblade had pulled himself out of the river and the figure had closely followed. Just as they started climbing up, Techno looked back and kicked them back into the river.

After closer examination, Techno had been stabbed by a concealed weapon and he was not in range of any healing potions, having used them when raiding the pillagers. Bleeding at a steady rate without bandages, Techno trudged back towards his very far away camp.

Techno was barely consious as he reached his campsite, not registering the fact that things were out of place and how his crown was not there. All he did was collapse onto the ground and frowned as he saw a small figure approach. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to get near strangers?”

The kid mumbled something as Techno’s eyesight blurred. “Sorry kid, you’re gonna need to repeat that for me.”

“None.” Said a distorted voice, as the kid nervously looked away from Techno’s gaze. He would later put two and two together and figure out his parents were the ones that he found the remains of back at the other site, but Techno could barely think and almost didn’t register that this kid was an orphan now.

“I guess you’ve peaked in luckieness then,” Techno mumbled as his eyes slowly drooped and became half lidded. “B’cause if I wasn’t bleedn’ out right now I’d totally slay you.”

The small kid took a step back and Techno grinned, finding happiness in the fact that even on the verge of being forced to respawn, he could still terrorize small children.

Technoblade had woken up to the godawful smell of healing potions and dried blood. This should not be possible. He had passed out infront of an orphan hybrid and was supposed to bleed until Minecraft took pity on him and put him in the respawn menu. Instead, he is currently lying in his makeshift tent, splash potions staining his pants, partially undressed with poorly tied bandages around his wound.

He abruptly sat up, startling the orphan child from before into teleporting away. After an akward moment, the child came walking back with another potion as if he wasn’t startled into teleporting away, making it seem like he didn’t even remember it happening as he just waved when he saw Technoblade was awake.

Technoblade was suffeing a moral dilemma, and that never happens.

It’s completely against his own character to not slay an orphan, but it just feels.. wrong, wanting to slay the orphan that saved him from the pain that is respawning.

“Hey kid.” Techno mumbled as he dug into one of his many hidden pockets. “Come here for a second.”

The small hybrid teleported within arms reach as Techno took a string of measuring tape out of his pocket and wrapped it around the kid’s head. “Let’s go on a journey.” Techno grinned as he took note of the size the measurement was.

Technoblade had taught this orphan many things.

“Make sure you always have full hunger.” After the orphan had run out of sprint as the two were running from several pillagers.

“Keep something to reduce or minimize fall damage in your inventory, preferably a water bucket, but I know you don’t like water.” After the orphan tripped and fell off a particularly tall tree while trying to look for a lava pool.

“Keep a close eye on your surroundings.” After the orphan got caught between a ghast an two skeleton.

The lessons kept up until the two were in the blacksmith of an abandoned village as Techno measured the orphan’s head one more time as he set to work on something made of gold. He kept most of the larger peices locked in a chest.

“Here.” Techno said, opening the door to the blacksmith signaling that the orphan could come inside to see what Techno had been working on.

Lined up on a dusty table were several different sized crowns. On the inside of each one were different small messages written for the orphan. “I have elected that as a small orphan child, you shouldn’t be allowed to see the things I do, and I can’t have the enemy mistake you for someone they can use as a hostage. Become greater then all the rest.”

Techno scribbled a messy note onto a paper and stuck it into his pocket. “Kid.” Techno said turning towards a crafting bench motioning towards it as the orphan followed. “This is how you craft an ender chest.” Techno said as he crafted two of them and passed one to the orphan. “Place one down on the other side of the room.” And the orphan did so.

“Try putting a stick in there.” Techno said placing the other chest beside himself. “Now try looking into this chest.” Techno explained how enderchests worked and how they were only universal to worlds but existed everywhere. He told the orphan that he should keep the crowns in the server hub to maximize accessibility. “Once you grow out of it you can go to the next one, and that one’ll fit you.”

Technoblade and the boyorphan were in front of a portal to a place Technoblade knew quite well. Techno turned to the boy and pressed the messy note he wrote into his hands. “Read it once you go through, and don’t forget to listen to the crown, ‘Make sure you have a signature so the people remember who crushed them.’”

“Goodbye.” Technoblade said as his boy walked through the portal.

“Ranboo.”

——

Graphic edition: https://nhi-theuserof-this.tumblr.com/post/636290875226570752/tw-depictions-of-blood-gore-fighting-almost

——

Bruhhh so how’d I do mcyt tumblr?

Very quick edit: I’m finna be offline for the next 6-8 hours as of this edit because this is a school night :shrugs: btw how do people make custom tags??? I’m limited to mobile so that might be it

—

Edit(8 hours later)

I SAID HOW’D I DO MCYT TUMBLR?

Edit: saw a post of techno saying some stuff about the ranboo and him relationship thing so I might take this down depending on where this goes because I don’t wanna make technoblade uncomfortable

#mcyt #dream smp #mcytau #technoblade #ranboo #nhiwrotehere

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hereisleo · 4 years

Text

stardust in our veins/

w/ s.mg x reader

g/ college!au, fluff, budding romance

w.count/ 2814

a.n/ in which upcoming astrophysicist and model song mingi is in a dilemma over the soon to be love of his life. a part of ‘back to school’ writing event with @kpopscape

t.w/ swearing

“The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”

Well, fuck. Mingi thinks his luck is the worst. The one time he needed the universe to make sense of course it wouldn’t. Then again turning to his astrophysics texts for guidance in the matter of love is the wrong place to start. Love doesn’t make sense like the universe, much of it still undiscovered and will continue to remain so. There’s only so much humans can learn and that by no means is little. He’s simply too finite to understand all the ways the universe has to offer. The perks of being mortal in his opinion.

His phone lights up, a notification appears on his screen. Don’t be late, Min! Right, he has to model for his friend tonight. He sends a quick confirmation text, a little cute onomatopoeia of ‘ang!’ Out of place with his stoic exterior yet that’s how he is, best of both worlds. Mathematics and astrophysics. Fashion industry and music. He could make it anywhere he wants to be. Mingi is confident in himself, he knows he has most of the skills set required to pursue all of his dream occupations. So he straightens the loose pages of a printed pdf file and tuck them into its folder. He could buy the textbooks but why would he do that? He likes to eat the rich so to speak. All his earnings go to tuition and he would live smartly to make it through another year.

The chair squeaks in the quiet library and he winces, slightly apologetic at the flinches from students studying in the library. He doesn’t dwell much in it, he slings his back over his shoulder and pushes his chair in, lifting it a touch to prevent the grating noise. He nods at the librarian and mouths his, ‘bye.’ And it’s just him and his little kidney beans, AirPods, pumping music into his ears. He makes his way around the ground, weaving through passing students going to different classes, the stares he receives are not foreign. He’s used to it. He’s always a head and some more taller than the average or maybe it’s his clothes or his colourful hair or the way he carries himself is out of place within the Department of Astrophysics. Mingi looks like someone from the Department of Arts. A fashion or music student. Some would say he’s here because of an athletic scholarship. He is simply exercising his freedom to wear whatever he wants.

Sik-K’s “Habibi” starts playing and he mumbles his curses, a love and hate relationship he has with his playlist. He just managed to distract himself from thinking about love and here he is, back to wallow in his one-sided pining. Pitiful. You’re pathetic, Song Mingi. His strides languidly back to his shared apartment, not too far off from campus, he could take the car but he likes to walk when the weather is nice. He wonders when did he begin liking you. The first time he sees you is in the Arts building when you were fitting his feline-like friend into a stage costume. He thinks he fell for how your brow knits together in concentration as your fingers deftly repaired loose embellishment of pearls on the velvet suit jacket. He vividly recalls how inky the fabric was, similar to the sky that night, Mars was visible from the big window at the fashion studio. He would catch glimpses of you here and there and because of that, his visits to the Arts building increased. His friends caught on immediately and they wouldn’t live it down.

Before he knows it, he’s already punching the security codes on his door. A happy greeting of his name falls short with an amused laugh. Even his best friend could tell, he’s wallowing in his feelings. Mingi whines, kicking his shoes off before unceremoniously taking all the space on the couch. Good thing his playlist has come to its end, he takes out the little kidney beans from his ears and let it rest on the coffee table.

“Love doesn’t make sense, Yunho,” he groans, burying his face against the giant brown bear plushie. A hand pats his head, “Love doesn’t make sense and so does the universe yet you love them the same.” Mingi thinks Yunho has been skimming through his astrophysics texts but highly unlikely, Yunho doesn’t enjoy reading. He sighs and nuzzles deeper into the belly of the soft toy. Hell, he much rather snuggle with you but alas you’re a distant star out of his reach. He could only see you behind the lenses of his telescope. He will make do with the bear and his friends for now. He likes being alone, he likes his space but he hates the feeling of loneliness that comes out to play every once in a while. More often now since he has you to pin over. His friends could only do so much for him.

Fuck you, Kim Hongjoong. Mingi keeps his head low and skirts around the photographer. You. He isn’t not aware you’ll be shooting him today, figuratively and literally. Yeosang has a shit eating grin on his face when Mingi sits on the chair to get his makeup done. “Not a word, Yeosang,” he mumbles and the grin widens. His friend only wipes his face clean before starting off with a quick skincare. He’s used to this, the gentle toner in white and blue packaging and the light cream patted into his skin. His friend went the length to purchase them specifically for him. He keeps his eyes trained on the mirror, tracking your movements all over the studio, talking to Hongjoong, toying with the navy and silver camera strap. He remembers buying the strap for Jongho when the old one was too worn out for use. It reminds him of the starry sky and it’s now in your hold. He bites his lip, it shouldn’t feel intimate yet here he is almost astral projecting because it feels as if you are holding part of his universe. Stop it, Mingi!

His pseudo makeup artist taps his abused lip with a warning tut, a red stain is smudged lightly before a clear gloss is patted over them so it doesn’t dry out his lips. Yeosang always scolds him for having chapped lips and this time Mingi sports dark smokey eyes, he could see hints of burgundy mixed into the brown shadows. Yeosang gives him a wink before sending him off to change. Hongjoong is a genius for designing outfits and he’s honoured to be one of the models walking in it. He wishes nothing but the best for the clothing line launch to be successful but he would be lying if he doesn’t want to wipe the smirk off the designer’s face right now.

Your fingers graze the skin of his back, his shoulders tensed and he presses his lips together to prevent any noise from escaping his mouth. Fuck this shoot. You’re just pinning his jeans because it’s slightly too big. Mingi wants to run home into the comfort of his bed and screams. Your radiating body heat is so warm and perhaps this is as close as he would ever to touch you, the human embodiment of the universe. He shouldn’t be this hypersensitive yet here he is flustered beyond his imagination. His lungs feel like they are collapsing. You are the 3-degree temperature difference in intergalactic space he learned about. His body couldn’t manage to reach equilibrium. Being around you makes his blood cells want to burst, the lack of atmospheric pressure puts a dizzy spell on him. Mingi thinks you’re an amazing being like the supercharged subatomic particles travelling almost just as fast as the speed of light. There’s only 0.1% difference. Magnificent.

Hongjoong and Yeosang smirk at his struggles. They are no strangers to his ‘internally screaming’ countenance. Mingi would have book it if they let him suffer any longer. He takes one look into the mirror, the long leather coat adds some invisible height to him, he appears taller than he already is and the chunky ribbed turtleneck accentuate his long neck. He glances over to the few more pieces hanging on the rack. Hongjoong kills it with the A/W capsule collection. He couldn’t wait to get into the patchwork trench coat and the purple overshirt that catches his attention since the prototype era. The universe has expanded further into infinity since then.

A gentle call of his name and the barely there touch on his back jolts him out of his reverie, eyes boring into yours almost bewitched. Your hand is right over where his birthmark is hidden under the layers of fabrics. “Mingi?” Your voice. Damnit, it’s so soft to his ears and the way his name rolls off your tongue raises the hairs on his arms. He dazedly hums in response, “Yes, stars?” The composition of a human being is as old as the universe itself, there are stardust running in the veins of mortals. He sees the brightest stars in your eyes. He doesn’t realise what he just called you, the term of endearment he refers you as in his head slips out to be immortalised. Sound waves travel into space and beyond, he can’t take back what he said. Your cheek is hot under his fingertips, in moments of bravery or stupidity, Mingi manages to string together a sentence, “Let’s take some pictures shall we?”

Bless Hongjoong for hooking up the music. He would run away if Taemin’s “Criminal” didn’t start playing. Don’t explode now. One more step to the front of the red backdrop. What foolish action did he do? How did he have the courage to talk to you and more over actually feel your skin under his fingers? He wants to scream and curl up on the floor. I did not just do that! Yeosang gives him a thumbs up for the corner of the studio. Thank heavens for his friends. He lets the electronic beats fill him and he loses himself in the act. His friends once told him, he’s a good actor. Now is the time for him to maximise the skill. A teasing drag of his bottom lip between his teeth, the smouldering gaze as he pierces through the camera lens straight at you just as the lyrics spews, ‘Destroy me more.’ Two can play this game and Mingi finds it relieving to find he’s not the one who is affected. It doesn’t quite make sense to you how he likes you and it doesn’t quite make sense to him how you like him. He’s not built for chasing love but now he knows you do have an interest in him, he takes the liberty to pursue it. He wouldn’t pour his love onto you yet. He has class and he’s not going to do anything that might spook you. Yes, he acts like an idiot sometimes but he’s not an idiot. He wants to make sure if you really have taken a liking of him or if he’s merely a passing interest. He doesn’t like getting hurt.

One wardrobe change and then two, the playlist continuous on, the hours blurred together. Mingi is in his last outfit, lying on the brown leather couch covered with colourful rugs and you’re hovering over him with the DSLR. He gives you, no, he means the camera, his best smirk and provocative lift of his eyebrow. From the corner of his eyes, Yeosang and Hongjoong are curling into each other to stifle bubbling laughter while monitoring all the shots appearing on the computer. The addictive riff of “Teeth” by 5 Seconds of Summer has him unbuttoning the purple overshirt. His friends are slapping each other and he hears you take sharp intake of breath. He is enjoying this way too much and he might as well. If he’s going to explode now is the time. Before the night ends, before the sky lightens, he would explode like a supernova, powerful and bright enough for its light to glow for more than a week. It’s rather selfish of him to make himself linger in your mind in a rather unorthodox fashion but he couldn’t help it, the opportunity is there for the taking. At some point the two nuclei would collide to create a new element, Mingi hopes it’s his and yours.

The following day Mingi wakes up to a series of texts in the group chat. The sheer amount of caps lock yelling are not anything new so he didn’t check it yet. He raises his arms and lets his muscles sing with the stretch. His feet kiss the cool floor and he makes his way out to do his day off routine. “Morning, Yunho,” he greets, his voice still rough from sleep, it sounds deeper even to his own ears. He hears his roommate rustling about in the living room and feet padding hurriedly to his direction, “Afternoon already, Min! And you can’t say that nonchalantly after what you did last night! You didn’t tell me this!” What did he do last night? Ah, right! He was modelling for Hongjoong, saw you and flirted with you indirectly through the camera lens. Yunho shoves his phone in front of him.

An A-cut photograph from the shoot is attached in the chat by Hongjoong. He was in the half open purple overshirt and sunglasses hanging between his teeth, glaring straight at whoever is looking at the picture. Consecutive texts from his friend group are under it, nothing but praises and Yunho is always first to compliment him. My best friend right there! Following the trail of text bubbles, he finds a short video. He presses the play button and immediately blushes, hiding his face in his hands with an exasperated sound. Last night model Mingi was brave enough to reach for the camera. In fact, he reached past it and cradled your cheek in his palm. “It was for the shoot!” Yunho pockets his phone. “Mingi. You eye fucked the camera through and through. In fact, it’s not the camera, it’s your ‘stars’.” The mirth in Yunho’s voice is enough to draw another whine from him. He couldn’t find fault in his best friend’s statement.

He has to go back in again today and how is he supposed to face you? I should call in sick. Yet with that thought he still works the coffee machine, his body moving rotely and his friend sidles next to him to help him with lunch. He could still sense the excitement radiating from the puppy-like man. An avocado toast later, Mingi is sent out with a cheery, “Have fun!” The little kidney beans are back in his ears, a mellow summer song soothes his pounding heart. The moon peeks between buildings as if to tell him it’s rooting for him. In such an aspect, he thanked the pile of regolith and dead volcanoes hanging in space.

His takes longer strides to the campus ground, arriving earlier than expected, his body understands the excited energy simmering under his skin. To see you standing in front of the Arts building entrance sparks something in him. Don’t do or say anything weird, Mingi. He breaks into a jog, calling your name properly this time. It’s an exaggeration but this is what he thinks being struck by a space debris must feel like. The shy wave of your hand and the sunlight blanketing your skin are enough to set his heart racing. “You look different today.” He supposed he does look different to you. Your encounters with him are always within the confinement of Hongjoong’s studio. You never see him in his casual state, so the messy, half wet hair from the shower earlier, the all sweats get-up he is in and the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose are foreign to you. Hell, you never see him cooing at a soft toy or notice how slow he eats. “Have you eaten yet?” That’s good, Min, that’s a safe question. You nod with a smile, pocketing away your phone, “Just enough to get through the meeting.” Mingi wants to curl up on the floor, what is he going to do with your undivided attention on him?

“Shall we grab something together afterwards?” He curls his hands into fist within the pockets of his sweatpants. What the hell did he just ask you? He needs that space debris to smite him out of existence right now. The endearing shy smile on curving your cheeks upwards has him biting his tongue. Mingi thinks a space debris really has vaporised him, your answer leaving him a stuttering blushing mess. “It’s a date then.”

“The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.”

94 notes · View notes

carewyncromwell · 4 years

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NEXT PART OF THE “PIRATES AU” GO TIME! For the previous part, click here, or you can also browse the entire tag for this AU here! Featuring in this section, once again, is ma cherie @cursebreakerfarrier’s girl Juliette “Jules” Farrier. <3

x~x~x~x

Carewyn had been glad for the rumbles of thunder and the terrible fog that rolled in that night. She knew Governor Farrier would want to quickly make an example out of Orion, and she needed any excuse she could scrounge up to belay his execution date so that she could figure out a way to get him out that wouldn’t either 1, put him in too much danger, or 2, make her lose her position as Commodore. If she got on the wrong side of the law herself, she’d lose the one advantage she had -- namely, the authority and power needed to keep Orion from harm.

What Carewyn could not have expected was the sound that soon accompanied the rumbles of thunder -- cannon fire.

Port Royal was under attack.

A large ship, nearly the size of the Dauntless that somehow seemed to glide in as quickly and silently as the fog, with a blood-red-stained hull and an intricate “R” chiseled into the left side of its bow came into port, and out of it came a mass of filthy, terrifying pirates all wearing dark red tunics. They held torches, pistols, and cutlasses, and they descended upon the island like a swarm of blood-stained rats.

Carewyn immediately ordered a counterattack. Sending out several battalions to protect the Governor’s mansion and the townspeople, she then stayed behind at the fort to lead her soldiers in an offensive against the ship the pirates had come from. The assault went on for almost an hour, but somehow, no matter how outnumbered the pirates were, their advance toward the fort never seemed to halt -- and somehow their numbers never seemed to dwindle...

In the brig, Orion could see the attack in the distance from the tiny window in the far upper corner of his cell. Anyone who wasn’t part of the Artemis’s crew might’ve hypothesized that these pirates had come after Orion, but Orion knew better. Murphy was far too strategic to just barrel into a busy and well-guarded town like Port Royal, and he and the rest of the crew would’ve never done something so dangerous and destructive, if nothing else, than because they’d know he wouldn’t approve. More importantly...Orion could see they were attacking the fort -- where Carewyn likely was at that very moment.

It was a struggle for Orion to try to keep calm. Whenever he was under a lot of stress -- and, to a lesser extent, whenever cannons were fired around him -- it was always rather difficult for him to find and keep his center. His heart rate would pound way too fast and he’d be unable to breathe fully or steadily and he’d have to hold his own hands in a vain attempt to keep them from shaking.

He had to get up there -- and yet his thoughts and his heartbeat were just too loud and too fast in his head for him to think. At several points the Revenge fired cannon balls right at the brig and smashed down walls, but they never managed to explode in a place Orion could use to bust his way out. He tried to meditate and clear his head -- place his faith in Carewyn, that she’d be safe -- just so that he’d be able to think clearly enough to summon up a means to actually help...but he found himself stuck in a terrible cycle of anxiety he couldn’t break free of.

Center yourself -- center -- Carewyn -- find your center -- balance -- calm -- Carewyn, please -- she’s all right -- center yourself -- no, she’s not -- no, she’s not -- find your center -- breathe --

Orion had good reason to be worried -- for when the pirates reached the fort, they cut down every soldier in their way, all with seemingly little effort. When they arrived, Carewyn also realized who it was that was attacking them.

Carewyn’s blue eyes widened upon the dark red tunics worn by the pirates at the head of the charge.

She knew that uniform only too well. It perfectly explained their ruthlessness -- and worse, despite their clear advantage in numbers, her soldiers were still somehow outmatched...

She dashed over to Percy, who had been firing at the pirates with his rifle, and seized his shoulder.

“Percy -- lead the new recruits in a retreat,” she said urgently.

Percy looked up in alarm. “Retreat? We’re abandoning the fort?”

“I care less about the fort than I do our men’s lives,” Carewyn said fiercely. “Get them out of here -- I’ll cover you.”

“But -- ”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” she cut him off sharply. Seeing the conflict and worry in his eyes, she then gave his shoulder a squeeze and said more softly, “I’m counting on you. Look after them.”

Percy couldn’t seem to summon any response. His freckled face was very white and scared. Nonetheless, he eventually managed to swallow back the lump in his throat and give her a fervent nod. He then immediately rushed off to gather the rest of his regiment.

“Fall back! Fall back! Stay together!”

Carewyn couldn’t hide the fear she felt herself as she turned her back on Percy and the other soldiers, unsheathing her sword and strolling leisurely into the throng of red-garbed pirates. They attacked her all at once, and within moments, she was fighting all six of them, ducking their blows and slashing into them with ferocity.

By her own design, the Commodore of Port Royal fought the crew of the pirate ship Revenge completely single-handed.

Not long after the seven pirates had swarmed the fort, they seemed to just as abruptly withdraw. No one knew why until Charlie and Bill -- hotly engaged in fighting a handful of pirates who had been ransacking houses -- caught sight of the red-garbed group who was retreating.

‘That must be the Captain!’ thought Bill.

At the head of the group was an older graying pirate dressed in a black coat much more ornate than the rest of his crew’s and a wide-brimmed red hat, which made him look like a silent, hungry vulture among a sea of red. His face was oddly placid and coolly smiling in response to all the chaos, even as he barked around at the rest of the pirates.

“Enough! Fall back now! We have what we came for!”

There was a roar of raucous delight from the rest of the crew, and they just as quickly flocked to the older man’s side.

Charlie’s eyes narrowed angrily. “No way am I gonna let you all walk off that easily -- !”

Before Bill could stop him, he charged at the group of pirates. One of them -- a female pirate, to Bill’s surprise, with a mane of long dark red curls and very cold almond-shaped blue eyes -- immediately unsheathed her own sword and the two began to fight. At last Charlie managed to stab her in the chest, making her collapse in a heap --

It was when she fell back that Charlie saw what the brown-haired female pirate to the pirate captain’s left was carrying over her shoulder -- the prone form of someone dressed in Navy blue and loosely flying ginger red hair.

“CAREY!” screamed Charlie.

Three other pirates immediately descended on Charlie with their cutlasses, slashing at his chest and his long ponytail. Charlie was soon completely overwhelmed in battle, unable to push past them. He tried to keep Carewyn in sight, but she was disappearing over the horizon --

Bill’s heart leapt into his throat as he chased after the group of pirates, his own sword high. His white robes were torn and covered in blood, but he didn’t care -- he couldn’t let them take Carewyn --

With a roar of fury, he went straight for the woman holding Carewyn. He slashed her shoulder, making her crumple in on herself with an angry cry -- Bill seized the back of Carewyn’s jacket, to pull her away --

“AAAARGH!”

Searing pain wrenched through Bill’s back, and in an instant, he was yanked backward away from Carewyn and thrown to the ground. Blood pooled out of his left side as someone stomped their foot on top of him with such force that he was slammed into the brick.

“ACK!”

“Don’t bother getting up, holy Father,” said a very cold, and yet scalding female voice. “We are demons you cannot defeat.”

Bill gritted his teeth in pain as he struggled to get to his feet.

“No -- “ he choked, his eyes flaring with righteous anger. “No, you -- you can’t have him -- !”

The captain raised his eyebrows in a cruel kind of amusement. “‘Him?’“

The brown-haired woman, who seemed to have completely shaken off the injury Bill had inflicted on her, gave a hard, forced-sounding laugh. The woman on top of Bill pushed down into him harder, making him gasp in pain.

“Heed this warning, boy,” she hissed right in his ear. “Stay away from our flesh and blood, or we’ll happily slash open your flesh and spill your blood in full.”

Her dark red curls had dropped into his line of vision -- Bill’s face contorted with confusion -- wait -- hadn’t Charlie already -- !?

“Stop playing with your food, Pearl,” said a younger, scathing male voice somewhere behind her. “We’ve got what we came for, so let’s leave this hovel behind.”

“Don’t tell me what to -- ”

“Fall back, Pearl,” the captain repeated very coolly. “Let the holy man be. Better that he learn the sting of failure that comes from doing the Lord’s work sooner rather than later.”

Bill made one last valiant attempt to get up, but the woman called Pearl kicked him in the back of the head with the metal heel of her boot and his mind went black.

Port Royal was absolutely devastated by the aftermath of the attack. Not only had their town been largely trashed, but their local hero had been stolen from them by the very pirates she fought single-handedly to give the rest of her soldiers the chance to escape from. All three Weasleys took what had happened very hard, all feeling ashamed and responsible for not having been able to protect Carewyn, who they saw as family to them. Percy immediately put his efforts toward helping the remaining officers put together a search party, but both Bill and Charlie feared that the Navy would never be able to find her. The Revenge was a ship of legends that seemingly appeared in and out of the fog like a ghost and only made berth on an island that supposedly nobody could reach unless they somehow already knew where it was. And given that it was an island inhabited by pirates, it was unlikely to be a place the British Navy could easily find.

Fortunately for the Weasleys, there was another person who was worried about Carewyn and was determined to do whatever had to be done to rescue her -- Jules Farrier. And so she charmed her way into the brig, slipped the watching guards some drugged drinks, and then picked up her skirts so she could dash down the stairs to the lone cell she knew was still inhabited.

Jules found Orion Amari sitting cross-legged in the corner of his cell. His eyes were closed and his hands were clasped in his lap. The wall behind him had been broken open at the top, but the jagged hole wasn’t wide enough for him to slip through.

The Governor’s daughter bent down, grabbing onto one of the wooden bars of his cell so she could look through them at him.

“Captain Amari,” she said urgently.

Orion’s head twitched. Although his expression was as unreadable as ever, his shoulders were tenser than normal as he slowly opened his eyes.

“...Miss Farrier,” he said, sounding far less surprised than he probably was. “I hope your Mr. Weasley is well.”

Jules flushed a little at the mention of “her” Mr. Weasley, but was too focused on the task at hand to care.

“Captain Amari, Carey’s been kidnapped.”

Orion’s expression abruptly tensed. His dark eyes went very wide and he froze up like a deer in the headlights.

“What?” The word came out so quietly and shakily it was like it was only said by a shadow of his actual voice.

“It was the Revenge,” said Jules, as Orion quickly shoved himself across the floor so that he could also grab onto the bars and peek through them at her. “They stormed the fort -- they trashed everything, but didn’t take anything except her. Bill and Charlie tried to stop them, but -- ”

“You can’t fight those men,” Orion cut her off very lowly.

He closed his eyes again -- he was breathing as deeply as he could, as if he were trying to keep his heart rate down.

“...There are tales, about the curse that plagues the Revenge’s crew. Some say they cannot be killed. Some say they’re not even human. Some say that they’re more dead than alive, and yet they walk among us all the same...”

He clasped his hands together, his dark eyebrows knitting together over his eyes.

“Carewyn was able to escape their curse, when she and Jacob fled all those years ago...and knowing Charles Cromwell, he couldn’t stand the thought of any member of his family living free -- of the curse...or of him.”

Jules’s eyes narrowed. Carewyn had never told her much about her grandfather, but considering she was more than experienced dealing with a family member who tried to dictate how she should live her life, she completely understood why Jacob wanted to get himself and his sister away from that.

“The Navy’s sent out search parties, but we all know that they won’t find her quickly. But you care about Carewyn -- she told me she helped you, and that you let her escape. You have a ship and a crew -- and since you’re a pirate, you’d probably be able to find out where the Revenge makes berth, right?”

Orion opened his eyes at last. His gaze upon Jules’s face was very unreadable.

“Finding Carewyn I believe I could manage,” he said levelly, “were I not currently imprisoned.”

Jules’s lips spread into a wry smile as she rose to her feet and reached into her sleeve.

“These might help with that,” she said coolly, dangling the ring of keys off of her pointer finger.

Getting Orion out of his cell was the easy part. Another pair of men had come to take the place of the original guards and found them passed out on the floor, just before they caught sight of Orion and Jules darting around the hall. Soon the bronze bell was clanging, signalling a prison break, and more soldiers arrived. At one point Orion even had to pick Jules up bridal style so they could jump down a set of stairs. Just when it seemed they might get captured, though, who should come to their rescue, but --

“Bill!” breathed Jules in relief.

Bill kicked the last soldier off the wall and whirled around. Orion quickly put Jules down, and Bill immediately swooped down on her, clutching her shoulder and searching her face for injuries.

“Are you hurt? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Jules, “but Bill -- what are you -- ?”

Bill gave her a grim smile. “Same reason as you, I reckon.”

His brown eyes flickered over to Orion, narrowing slightly as he straightened up.

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Amari,” said the priest, “but if Miss Farrier got you out, I imagine she convinced you to help us find out where Charles Cromwell took Carey.”

Orion inclined his head. “I understand that you don’t trust me, Bill Weasley, but rest assured, I don’t want Carewyn in the clutches of Charles Cromwell any more than you do.”

Bill still looked very suspicious; Jules brought a hand onto his arm and gave it a squeeze through the sleeve of his robes.

“Bill, we can trust him. He cares about Carey -- I know she’d trust him, if our places were switched.”

Bill deflated slightly under Jules’s hold. He stared down at her for a long moment; then, with a swallow, he turned back to Orion.

“...Carey never has trusted easily,” he said quietly, “so if you think that’s true, and if you trust him...then I will as well.”

His silent stare seemed to add, ‘For now.’

The three were abruptly startled to attention by the sound of a loud CRASH. They dashed around the corner, to find a large piece of the lowered wooden gate on top of a group of stunned soldiers and another ginger-haired man climbing casually through the hole over to them.

“Charlie?” said Bill, taken aback.

Charlie grinned at Bill and Jules. “Hey, lovebirds! Guess we must’ve had the same idea -- though I’d planned on shaking the bloke down for information, not set him loose...”

He cocked an eyebrow at Orion.

“But oh well -- is he taking us to Carey?”

Orion inclined his head to Charlie like he had Bill, his dark eyes very calm but still narrowed seriously.

“I am returning to the Artemis and aim to go after the Revenge. If you wish to assist me in that, I would be very grateful. If you wish to join me in it, however, it would be far more dangerous -- even more so than what you’ve already done.”

Charlie’s grin grew a bit more cocky. “Look, mate -- Carey is my twin. Not by blood, but she’s my twin all the same. She’s family. There’s no way in Hell I’m not going to help her, if she needs me.”

Bill glanced at Jules. He agreed with Charlie 100%, but Jules going would be very different than either of them. She hadn’t been in the Navy -- she wasn’t trained with a pistol or sword.

Nevertheless Jules looked back at Bill with a perfectly fearless expression.

“Us too,” she said firmly.

Bill’s eyes rippled with emotion around his broadening smile. Juliette Farrier truly was the bravest, most wonderful woman he’d ever met in his life.

Grinning, Charlie turned back to the broken gate.

“Now then, you’d best get those swords out -- there’ll no doubt be a party waiting for us, if we head for any of the docks. I hope your ship’s not too far off, Amari.”

Orion’s dark eyes twinkled with mischief.

“Not at all,” he said levelly. “The Artemis’s best aspect is her ability to hide in plain sight.”

“Good.”

Charlie unsheathed the sword at his side. The heavy iron hilt was beautifully melded into a stylized dragon.

“Never thought I’d get such good use out of this baby, when I made it,” he said with another cheeky grin as he held it aloft.

Orion, Bill, Charlie, and Jules dashed for the northern-most dock. It was largely deserted except for what looked like a single, abandoned ship -- but, as it turned out, that was merely an illusion. Orion Amari apparently had a good friend in Tortuga who specialized in old magics, and after he’d been kind to her, she’d cast a spell on the Artemis that gave it the ability to disguise itself as an innocent-looking merchant ship. Once Orion used the word necessary to remove the illusion, both the Artemis and its crew reappeared, and they made ready to board. As Charlie had predicted, however, a whole slew of soldiers had come to stop them -- among them, the final Weasley brother, Percy, who was the last one left standing after Orion, Charlie, and Bill had taken out the rest of the battalion and Orion had made it on board the Artemis.

Unlike Bill and Charlie, however, Percy refused to trust Orion -- he was a pirate, just like the ones who’d kidnapped Carewyn. He’d kidnapped her himself, even if Carewyn managed to get away. If Bill and Charlie went with him, they’d be labeled as pirates too -- if Jules went, then the Governor would hunt all of them down and probably kill them, just to get her back.

“I know you want to help,” he told his brothers sharply, pointing his pistol at them but only by protocol, “but let the Navy handle this!”

“The Navy can’t find a pirate island!” Charlie shot back impatiently. “Charles Cromwell is ruthless, Perce -- if we dally around waiting for the Navy to find her the ‘upstanding way,’ Carey might be dead by the time we reach her!”

“And if you do this, then you’ll have nothing left to come back to!” said Percy. “You’ll be tarred with Amari’s brush, Charlie -- you and Bill, and Jules -- you’ll be criminals! You’ll have no future, no home -- no chance at a normal life, ever again! You’ll be hunted down like animals! The Navy will hunt you down -- the thing you fought for! The thing we fought for! The thing Carey and I still fight for! Is that what Mum and Dad would want? Ginny, or Ron, or Fred and George? Is that what Carey would want -- you throwing away your entire lives and futures!?”

Percy’s hand holding his pistol was shaking. Bill’s lips came together very tightly.

“Percy,” he said very softly, “we can’t let Carey stay in the clutches of Charles Cromwell. That man slaughtered his own daughter and her husband, all because they wouldn’t bow to his will. Carey was lucky to escape him, when she had the chance. I’m sure she’s known her whole life that he might catch up with her and dreaded that moment every single day...and yet she kept it all to herself, because that’s what Carey does. She takes every knife she can herself, so we don’t have to.”

Jules looked from Bill to Percy, her brown eyes narrowed in determination as she nodded in agreement.

“We can’t leave her, Percy,” she said firmly. “Once Carey’s safe...whatever happens next...we can deal with the consequences.”

Percy stared up at them, his freckles very stark against his deathly pale face. His eyes darted from Charlie to Bill and back.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered.

Charlie stubbornly turned away and strode right up the gangplank onto the Artemis’s deck. He stopped to Orion’s right, but avoided eye contact with anyone on board.

“Charlie -- ” pleaded Percy. “Don’t do this -- think of Mum -- think of us -- ”

Jules headed up the gangplank too, turning back to look at Bill. Bill turned away from Percy.

“Bill -- ” Percy said again. “Don’t -- please -- ”

Bill bowed his head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Bill!”

Percy’s voice came out as a despair-filled, choked yelp of pain. The sound clearly affected Bill, judging by how he shut his eyes tight. Jules reached out as if to take his hand, but Bill plowed up the gangplank, unable to face anyone, as the gangplank was raised and the Artemis immediately set sail.

Charlie escaped into the rigging and sat in the crow’s nest alone for the next hour. Bill went to the far side of the deck, grabbing onto the railing in a vice grip and hunching over it as he struggled not to cry. Jules came up beside him and, her own eyes full of pain, she rested her head and shoulder against his, desperate to show any support she could.

As much as they all knew they had no other choice, if they wanted to save Carewyn...it didn’t make the schism between the Weasley brothers any less searing and painful.

29 notes · View notes

neocityfics · 4 years

Text

2096: Zodiac

Chapter: Intro < ❝ Prologue ❞ > Chapter One

➥ Chapter List

Genre: Cyberpunk inspired, mafia-esque, not-so dystopian, angst

Pairing: Doctor! Taeyong x Reader [Sprinkle of other pairings tbd]

Summary: 2094, the disaster happens. The richest become richer with their reddened backs turned, the people around you growing more and more tired, and a certain Dr. Lee plans to change it all. Lucas unknowingly pulls you into the frenzy, and you become part of this confusing and painful process. You catch yourself floating between the conflict of twelve gangs and a world where circuits begin replacing flesh.

Warnings: Moderate cursing, death, heavy events similar to real world situations

A/N: Throughout the writing, there’ll be links (indicated by ▶ Ambience) for a more immersive experience. These are YouTube links, so it may be difficult to switch between YouTube and Tumblr (especially for those unable to have video pop-outs on mobile), so please keep this in mind. I’m also working on a Spotify playlist. I really hope you enjoy my first published piece!

▶ Ambience

The sea of neon purples, pinks, and blues drowned out whatever background activity filled the hustling life of the city. Light harshly touches the exterior of small shops endlessly lining the streets. Though full of living people, it always seemed a bit lonely. Everyone for themselves as it had been before the disaster happened, before life became even harder and resources scarce. Half the world is gone, but for whatever reason, humans continue to persevere. This strength is a unique feat, but it comes with consequences. With the remaining 3 billion people left on Earth, only the Eurasian continent remains the only habitable land thus forcing people to squeeze in tightly. It’s like this everywhere-- tiny housing, famines, and the overgrowing hunger to hold power and wealth much as we did before. The rich stay rich, the poor stay poor.

Life’s tough in Neostone. With hundreds of thousands of people and little food, restaurants struggle to keep open with enough to sell. Fresh water sources and land were replaced with tall housing structures and corporate buildings. Most have to work two or more jobs. Education is non-existent and relies on parents teaching kids different skills through child labor. Further industrialization in the little space the planet has left led to bouts of acid rain from overworked factories. The world’s leaders morph into the same guise: ties stained with blood, suits the product of cheap labor showed off status, and their white-gloved hands tightly gripped heavy silver suitcases. Corruption still plagues the broken systems that hang over society, sustained from before the disaster happened. It seems like we’ll never learn.

Sure, it’s difficult to get by day to day without much, yet the communities outside the wealthy rich businesses were tight-knit. Everyone knows each other’s names. People often trade food scraps for little luxuries to feel any ounce of happiness. Friends hang out near street food vendors where most people are, begging for any kind of calorie. While life in Neostone is tough, the citizens depend on each other for care, not anyone from above.

I don’t think of it much-- how different life would be if the disaster didn’t happen, if the world had never been touched by so much chaos. I knew it’d be the same, that I’d end up still struggling to get from morning to morning. Even with the big drop in population, we live as sardines squished together under a layer of plastic that suffocates us. Nothing has changed. I lost everything.

Though the neons felt like home and they were all I’ve known for the past couple of years, I do remember who I was before this all went downhill. Fresh in college with a mind set on (major(s)/minor(s)), and although uncertain of the future, I was ready to break free from family and understand what it means to live a good life. Debt would hit me hard on my head but I was certain to find ways to pay it off without burdening others. Between jobs and school, I felt like there was a purpose for my movement, for my existence, to be a small gear of a clockwork world. For three years, I managed to get stuff done and become my own separate identity. I never felt more myself for the longest time. One more year to go, I said to myself as my third year comes to a close. But fourth year never came. It happened. The start of summer into my last year in college was the best time I’ve had in my life. During an internship in Japan, I’d gotten a handle of how it was in the real world as part of the workforce. A month into the most enjoyable moments of my life came the disaster.

▶ Ambience, Ambience

I watched the television screens throughout the subway, making my way to my 9am train when the static and distortions of color accompanied the shaking ground beneath me. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as the news shifted to an emergency alert. All of a sudden, hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, building collapses, and tsunamis were destroying the western hemisphere. The disaster was inexplicable, the most spontaneous event in the history of Earth. I hid in the nearest shelter in Tokyo as realization hit how horrifying everything was. Buildings toppling left and right, people being crushed beneath the debris, splatters of fresh red on the broken bits of glass and metal heaps. That was a day of absolute terror. Within twenty-four hours, half the world was gone. My heart sank as the disasters settled throughout the world, and the news focused on the western hemisphere where I had lived most of my life. That part of the world was gone. My family and college friends were gone.

And I was left alone in Japan.

But the world didn’t change. The same evil corporate heads enforced the same evil policies and practices. The same tired faces dragged their tired bodies until no end just to, at the bare minimum, survive. No matter what form the world took, this was our fate until we went extinct. The only thing that changed perhaps was how many of us were kept in that system, and that the system favoring the wealthy became stronger. So the cycle continues.

▶ Ambience

With the scraps of money I had left on my name and picking up little jobs, I was able to get into a micro apartment. The government was eager to take advantage of the situation and make just enough housing to keep people happy and off the streets, but also enough to ensure some people couldn’t get out of the vicious system so labor was cheap. My space is dingy at best and quite small, but it’s all the comfort I have. Not a day passes where I’m not grateful for a private place to sleep, do business, and let myself feel at ease. Others aren’t so lucky, sleeping behind their food and merchandise stalls or in the nooks and crannies of back alleys. Weeks passed into months where my body ached from overwork, the same for the people I’ve been surrounded with and worked alongside. It’s only been two years since everyone had to rebuild what’s been lost, but it looked only slightly different in Neostone where Tokyo had once been. Only the mega cities were somewhat unscathed by the disaster, and businesses collectively chipped in to remodel them. Rural and suburban areas were either flooded or full of toxic waste.

People from all races and backgrounds who survived into the aftermath of the disaster poured into the cities. I was kindly taken into the dangerous but welcoming community of downtown Neostone, where cooking and selling food in addition to helping at clinic became my new life. At the clinic, I met someone I familiarized myself with to be comfortable and close enough. Having someone around lifted up my motivation. Going by Lucas, a name he adopted to fit in with the rest of downtown Neostone, he worked assiduously the same shifts as me at Pearl Park Clinic. Besides weekends, Lucas and I leave for work together as he lives just a few rooms down in the complex. While working at the clinic down on East Row, he comes to visit for a bite at the street food stall that keeps me busy half the week. Throughout getting to know him within two years, he revealed he also lost family he was close with-- a younger brother and sister who by the sound of his stories were needy brats that he loved so much. It hurts to know they’re gone like my friends are. I was glad I could relate to him and also be someone to lean on. On a roller-coaster of life’s tests, Lucas and I know we have each other’s back.

▶ Ambience

Today was like most days, another Friday morning. The green flash of LED at 7:00am with a loud beeping, a quick splash of cold water against my face, clean clothes, and a quick bite of fruit. The same mindless routine guides me out of the door of the room and down the hall. From my room, 716, to Lucas’s room, 718, was only a few meters away thanks to the tiny size of rooms. I knock once, twice, then thrice, but no reply. Strange. I’m used to Lucas whipping the door wide open at the slightest sound of my footsteps to poke his head out and greet me loudly. Should I knock again? Call him? My hand gravitated towards the doorknob, uncertain if we’re on the kind of terms where I can barge in whenever. “Lucas,” I decide to start softly, “I’m here now, we can leave for the clinic.” No reply. Maybe I’ll text him. Unlocking my phone, a smile cracked on my face as a photo of Lucas and I hanging out with some other friends posed in front of our favorite ice cream shop flashed across the screen. No red numbered badge on the messaging app. Today feels a little bit unusual. Typically, he texts when he needs help or won’t be at work. Inhaling in, I choose to try the knob in which a turn and a push of the door unveils the dark, musky room. A room with no Lucas. Noticing the tension in my face and shoulders, I relax them and try not to think of anything bad that could happen to him. Maybe he needed to stop somewhere before going to work. Maybe he’s just out to get groceries and whatnot. Maybe he’s just busy doing something else. I trust he’ll get back to me soon, but the weird pit in my stomach bugged my thoughts.

Down the long winding halls, unlocking my phone seemed all I could do, the worry taking over. My pace quickened. It’s 8:00am, the clinic starts up at 9:00am. It’s a long walk through a rather sketchy part of downtown, but it's one I’ve mastered throughout the couple of years and certainly made friends in. Reaching the staircase, my breath was noticeably shallower. This was always the worst part. It took much time and energy just to get to the first floor. Upon stepping into the lobby, I swiftly pick up an umbrella from the community box set near the entrance and begin my path out. The clerk at the counter peaks over his rather raunchy motorcycle magazine, riddled with messy yellow text, and he subtly waves at me. I send the gesture back, taking my leave from the complex. Rain besets Neostone often, the overcast weather permitting low fog and grey clouds to lurk the bubble that is downtown. Chatter and noise blend together from all sides with the rushing waters eagerly greeting storm drains and early risers setting up their stores. In comparison to the staircase, the lengthy walk to the clinic is always a breeze, and it helps calm the nerves as I ready myself for a busier pace of day. Every five minutes, I unlocked my phone again to see if Lucas had contacted me. Still no sign of him.

▶ Ambience

After what seems like the longest walk of my life, some staff of the community medical clinic greet me and provide a list of my duties right away. 9:00am right on the dot. I take in what needs to get done, reading off the slightly crumpled paper between my fingers. Towel laundry… Disinfect beds in the North Wing… Prepare a warm epsom salt bath for patients in the East Wing… Always busy on Fridays when the work week is over and people live out their less-than-safe life decisions. Less work, more injuries, and more patients. A voice sharply interrupts, “Hey! Where’s Lucas? You two always arrive here together.” My heart sank. So he isn’t at work. Where could that man possibly be?

Tension grows but a sigh leaves my chest as I formulate some sort of response to the nurse, “He might be sick, I’m not sure where he went. Usually he tells me, but I’m sure he has his reasons.” The lady nodded and clicked her tongue as if irritated. A pause before I ask her, “Why, are we short-staffed today?” She gives a vexed nod again, taking her leave as another staff member urges her towards a patient. Stupid question. We always are understaffed. Located on the intersection of Bear Walk and Oak Lane as suspension railways weave between buildings, Pearl Park Medical Clinic threw itself into one of downtown’s busiest and most dangerous areas. Crimes being committed everyday that send people into the clinic, drunkards finding their way through the doors to spew anger uncalled for against the staff, and the homeless just asking for a pillow or blanket while they sleep outside as they’re reminded of the cold, hard pavement soaked with rain. Of course, we must treat everyone’s needs… and wants in some cases. Only a couple dozen of us work the two-floored piece of the tall establishment which also houses struggling law firms, compact grocery stores, beauty salons, and wireless carriers. This place is a mini mall, but not for the faint-of-heart mall goers. Murder, sabotage, and sickness run rampant. However, it’s the place Lucas and I call home. From Tuesday to Friday, from 9:00am to 8:00pm, my hands pruned from washing equipment and fabric constantly, legs moved to and from wing to wing to prepare stations, mind boggled by the surprising sights of Neostone’s everyday life. The dirty white walls, gowns, and noise make me feel rejuvenation each time I clock in for shifts. Home. A place of belonging. Everyone accepted me in, even as a seemingly insignificant part of the operation. For Lucas, he tells me so often as if I forget easily, it’s a dream come half true.

Lucas aspired to be a doctor. It was his lifelong desire to help others, fascinated by how many times the human body tested the limits and broke them, and how he could save someone’s life. That was his purpose. Unfortunately, he fell into the same boat as I did, not being able to finish college because of the disaster. As per hiring policy, Pearl Park requires employees to be degree holders in biology, chemistry, biochemistry, or any other related field. Lucas was studying biochemistry with a neuroscience minor. Beyond impressive were his grades by what Lucas boasts to me, though I can’t confirm since the disaster destroyed his documents. In his third year, he already started planning his senior capstone project with research on the nervous system of several types of animals. We bonded over doing labs, the silliest or most dreadful courses we sat through, and how the university dining food sucked and ripped us all off. But it was a waste. In this new society, formal higher education is not important. Some schooling still persists, but they’re limited to small, dusty, singular classrooms led by underpaid teachers. Families tend to force children into work as it’s deemed more beneficial in learning practical home economics rather than mathematical theories, ethics, physical sciences, and so much more. The mindset of the remaining world focused on survival versus getting jobs of higher pay and better conditions. No one could blame us when authority breaks and the top 1% fully turn their back on you. Despite being turned down for medical practice, Lucas still wholeheartedly accepted the situation and embraced helping out in the clinic. Here and there with a bit of discreteness, Lucas does patch up some patients with bandage, disinfect cuts, and give advice for those with physical pain. Might I add, he’s quite popular with the patients as well, handsome and charming as he is. I’ll admit to it, I’m jealous of how he lifts everyone up in the toughest hours. Shortly after he joined, my arrival a week later brought him joy knowing I was stuck in the same sticky situation he was in. His passion could be seen a mile away. On the other hand, I just needed this job to keep myself afloat like everyone else.

I snap back to reality when one of the doctors, Dr. Lee who made a beeline towards one of the stations, bumped my side. Asshole, I think to myself. He’s head of the Pearl Park operation, so I don’t feel the desire to cause trouble by reprimanding him. This job allows me to hang onto my existence and sanity with my apartment, I couldn’t afford to lose it. His voice booms suddenly, startling nearby staff, “Is Lucas not here? I need him to help.” His voice trails off and erupts again, “With surgery preparation on Monday,” he swivels his head to one of the lead nurses, “We’re doing a skin graft for a severely burned person.” Despite the cold aura, his face contorted with concern and urgency. The patients put complete faith into him as he’s been a well-known medical practitioner since before the disaster. My imagination briefly ponders the severity of the injury as if I haven’t seen my fair share of nasty burn wounds. Shoulders shudder for a moment, and then I begin towards the North Wing where my first duty awaits.

▶ Ambience

Phew. That might’ve been the longest shift of my life. All day, the image of Lucas constantly itched at the back of my mind. It was difficult to focus, but I managed to get through the hours until 8:00pm. With my feet aching from exhaustion and a slight headache from lack of food or water, I decide to pay a visit to my other favorite place: East Row’s finest Chinese street food, Electric Egg. In my innermost thoughts, I’d hope to see Lucas there, munching away on tea eggs. That was his go-to snack after shifts at the clinic. Being on your feet all day does quite a bit of damage and leaves the stomach to growl, to fight for a delicious energy replenishment. When I arrive, one of my coworkers greets me cheerfully, shouting and waving my name as I draw closer, much to my embarrassment. “Sicheng,” my voice laced with laughter, “how’s business!” Our most common exchange, with the most common reply. With a hardy laugh, he shoots back, “The everyday thing, you know. Slow.” Sicheng’s smile invites me towards the side of the stall as he prepares what he knows are my regular dishes of choice. “Xi’an pancake and sesame tang yuan, coming right up!” As if on cue, my stomach beams in excitement and I lay my hand on it to feel the grumble, making Sicheng to laugh. “How’s work by the way, and where’s Lucas? I have his tea eggs already here.” I glanced to the side of the cart Sicheng worked away at, and indeed Lucas’s tea eggs sat prettily in a mug, waiting to be eaten.

I sigh, turning Sicheng’s grin into a straight line. He’s observant and knows how to read the room well. After a pause to gather myself, I sit down on a stool facing Sicheng and begin to tell him my worries. “I’m not sure if maybe I’m overthinking this, but Lucas always tells me if he’s not feeling well enough to work or go out somewhere. But he was gone this morning, he wasn’t in his room when I left for the clinic. He didn’t show up to the shift, and so many bad things could’ve happened, especially in the area we’re in. I’ve been checking my phone the entire day, but I’ve gotten no resp--”

“My tea eggs! You’re the best Sicheng, I really needed this after a long day, oh my god. You guys have no idea, my belly’s been howling!”

I froze. I know that voice too damn well. Anger immediately boiled within me, and it burst like the hot oil that hits Sicheng’s arms as he cooked. “You. Piece. Of. Shit,” I whipped my entire self around to face the tall man who unsurprisingly turned out to be Lucas with his disheveled hair framing his stupid little face. “Did you not see your call log? It’s just me, me, me, me, me, and oh guess who… me!” The tone in my words frightened even me, even more so realizing both Lucas and Sicheng’s widened eyes. I earned some dirty looks from customers as well. Nevertheless, I was pissed.

Lucas’s heightened shoulders steadily fall. “Hey, I’m sorry… Something really urgent came up, and it’s very personal to me. I hope you understand. I should’ve told you as soon as it came up.” His jaw clenches, his fists tightening their grip against the counter as he sternly looks at me across the food stall. I shake my head and roll my eyes, gaining a scolding expression from Sicheng who’s confusion was written all over his face. Deep within me, I know Lucas is sincere.

I start back up, loosening my voice to become gentle, “Eat your tea eggs, please. They’re getting cold and Sicheng prepared them for you early.” Silence followed, then the chewing noises from Lucas hungrily devouring his food. Maybe today was a hard day by the looks of it. Lucas took care of his appearance, so it was a shock to see him in a seemingly vulnerable state. His eye bags seem bulging and darkened, a sign of a sleepless night. Unsure of what to think, I let go of my displeasure and chip away at my pancake and rice balls. After satisfying our hunger, Lucas and I bid Sicheng a goodbye and head back to our apartment complex. The walk is painfully awkward.

▶ Ambience

This feeling is nice. To have Lucas back as we go through our nightly routine of washing our faces and brushing our teeth in a tiny community bathroom. Our mannerisms seem slightly less stiff, and though minimal, it takes a huge weight off my shoulders. He’s back and I feel secure again. But he doesn’t bring up anything about earlier. I’m about to comment on his long-sleeved shirt as he’s the biggest heat anti in the world, refusing to wear anything that isn’t a muscle tee. But the rough emotions rattled us both, so I drop it from my list of questions to ask. We get ready for bed in silence, only starting to discuss things when we finish up and plop on the floor of my apartment. I tried to figure out if I was uncomfortable from the cold floor or for the conversation that might unfold. Since Lucas has been excruciatingly quiet, I take the initiative, “I sent so many messages and calls today. Do you know how worried I was?” Disappointment heavily coat my concerns. “This isn’t like you, I was seriously going to lose my mind. Please… can you tell me what’s going on?”

It pains me to see him looking like he’s kicked down again from having an already bad day, but I needed answers. He’s the person I trust the most in the life we have now. His chest inflated and quickly deflated. “I’m about to show you something. It might freak you out.” He tugs at the ribbed cuff of his left sleeve. A tattoo? Perhaps a little smiley face or some unconventional design placed oddly on his arm that he wanted to cover since we work at a clinic? Though tattoos are normalized on staff... Or an injury? Whatever it is, I just want to know whatever he’s hiding. “Promise me you won’t make a big commotion, I will explain.”

Without much thinking, I grow irritated at him for dragging this out, so I reach for the end of his shirt and pull it up quickly, unveiling the truth. My body and mind go rigid at the sight, unable to process whatever this… contraption was. “Lucas… what the hell is this,” I ask, alarmed, taking in the faintly glowing circuits and tiny sparks of blue electricity lighting up and down tubes that poke in and out of the machinery. From his shoulder down to his fingers, metals and screws and wires replace his flesh. After a long minute of examination and curiosity, I turn my attention back to Lucas’s face which expressed great worry, fear, and uncertainty. “Is this the reason you were gone today?” He gently shook my hand off and swiftly covered his arm with his shirt again. With a dejected look, he takes his eyes off mine and pins them on the dusty floorboards. His arm is no longer human.

“Dr. Lee from the clinic.”

#2096: zodiac #taeyong x reader #cyberpunk au #mafia au #taeyong reader insert #nct taeyong #nct 127 #nct u #nct #kpop fanfic #lee taeyong #wong yukhei #lucas #wayv #nct angst #nct mafia au #winwin #dong sicheng

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spc4eva · 4 years

Text

Morning Wind: Life Debt

Another brief chapter in the continuation of a preface between two bounty hunters. Please enjoy. I had a lot of fun writing out thoughts and imagery. After this chapter, the story will be a bit more linear to the seasons and include more conversation/action. I wanted to make certain there was enough preface between the two bounty hunters before just tossing it all to the main storyline.

Word Count: 2,674

Rating: T

Cross posted on AO3 & Fanfic.net

"Mando. I owe you one."

On the frozen surface of Hoth, he heard words from a stranger he never expected. Bounty hunting was a lucrative business and others rarely played nice. Killing other hunters was frowned upon, but that didn't mean it wasn't a common occurrence, especially for him. Other hunters would get in the way or attempt to swoop in like a ravenous carrion picking a corpse while the predator still gnawed at it. Din Djarin had killed plenty of other hunters that had gotten in his way, but this time is was different.

He had noticed the Ronin a few times before this and partially because Karga seethed about them, comparing Mandalorian to Jakonan. Blood red robes accented by ash and gold, hidden beneath a mask frozen in a snarl. Naturally, as predators did, they steered clear of one another. There was no business to be had with the samurai and he wasn't the type to begin small talk over the fabled Tamahagane sword the Ronin wore, just as the figure respected his own inclinations and the beskar he donned. Still, he duly noted that the Ronin had the highest stakes in the bounty game when compared to him, the only other predator strong enough to take multiple pucks at once and turn them over in the curt deadlines that Karga insisted on dealing.

Despite Din's lack of knowledge of the Ronin, he could respect the hunter's prowess and was gracious that they'd never needed to cross paths until this point.

That was until Karga duped them both, dealing dual pucks for the same elusive bounty.

Hoth was a wasteland decorated in a beautiful sheathe of pristine white, gilding the desert with a blanket of purity, constantly being turned over by the shrieking tundra winds. Wailing like a banshee, footprints quickly eroded on the snow dusted surface of thick ice, rarely having melted more than an inch or two within the last few centuries. Despite the inhospitable hell that Hoth was, creatures still found a way to survive in the glimmering ice encrusted mountains and caverns.

Half the battle of finding a bounty here was the environment, the plummeting temperatures, and fauna in desperate search of its next meal. The other half was following a cold trail before the screeching wind erased it. Tracking fobs only worked within a certain proximity of the bounty, so establishing an area to search within the white fingers tried to pry past his visor, choke underneath his flak suit, and strip at his offensive durasteel like a rabid lover.

Finding the correct cave had been the least of his worries. Aside from the fading mint of large boots, a second set was more innocuously hidden, utilizing the original prints to mask their own. However, he was able to discern the soft bite of a toe, the second individual's foot considerably smaller than the bounty's. His quarry was already being hunted and that hastened his pace, unwilling to part with the high payment, nor the irritation of losing out to another hunter. He was the best at his trade and some upstart hunter wasn't going to circumvent him by being light on their toes and a few paces ahead of him.

Crunching through the permafrost, each step grinding ice into snow, he ducked into the cavern, the wailing wind subsiding within the shelter of the stone walls. Despite the coverage, inside was just as frozen and frigid. Stalactites and stalagmites were encased in cloak of ice, chomping down to create the image of a throat of magnificent diamond teeth of a beast, illuminated only by a fallen torchlight.

A guttural roar echoed deep within, rattling the icicles and setting his teeth on end as his blood began to pulse in his ears. Before him was a detailed story of what had happened, written in the language of footprints in the frost. One had entered, another had followed. Deeper, the story continued until a set, thrice the size of either original paces, joined the ballad. Droplets of crimson blossomed like poppies in the scant grey light of the cavern, brightened by his own light as he frowned deeply, grazing over gouged stone where claws had shorn rock. Another glance at the enormous paw prints reminded him that Hoth possessed rather terrible fauna and he had an idea of what the quarry and hunter before him had encountered.

Drawing his pulse rifle, he glided forward, carefully rolling heel to toe to mask all the noise he made. Stealthily, stealing into the darkening depths of the unknown, he swapped the safety off and kept his finger ready by the trigger. Scarlet flowers of blood lined the path, tiny little buds winking freshly, indicating that they'd only bloomed recently. Movement made him jerk instinctively, leveling the rifle as an ashen cloak fluttered like a raven's wing and a silhouette danced away from a hulking, behemouth shag carpet of ivory. His visor caught the glint of the Tamahagane blade first, striking the light of his torch and throwing crackling stripes of pearl where the steel was lanced with lightning-like folds.

The Ronin.

Fleeing from the Wampa, the samurai treaded lightly, gliding elegantly as the robes beneath the fold of their cloak whipped. Din observed from his perch up toward the incline of the cavern, eyes raking over the yeti and then to the Jakonan. He doubted that such a hunter, rumored to be on equal grounds with himself, required assistance. Eyes narrowing, the Ronin swiped their sword down, air whistling where the blade passed and kept the Wampa at bay from tackling them. Then he saw it, the slick liquid trailing down from the hilt of the blade, over the guard, and dripping against the charcoal steel. Whatever trauma was there, it was hidden beneath the wide brim of the kimono sleeve, whispering only in the form of ruby liquid dripping and staining a wake where it trailed.

The Ronin had been injured, hefting the long curved katana as they back themselves into a corner without realizing. Remembering the story in the dust, Din realized that the Ronin had not anticipated crossing the Wampa and had been ambushed, the wound a telltale sign that the yeti had gotten the better of them if only for the briefest of moments. The fact they were still alive was a testament for their speed and agility, but such luck was running thin and the Ronin seemed aware of this. Drawing a second blade, the Ronin turned it toward themselves, poising it over their heart, more willing to commit suicide than be ripped apart by the monster.

Din raised his pulse rifle and fired.

Crashing and echoing like the mighty smash of cymbals, the shot took the Wampa on the side of the heat, incinerating the skull and causing it to collapse in a white mound just ten feet from the Ronin. The blade clattered from the Ronin's hand, head whipping up to leer at him from behind a snarling countenance, pausing as they shuddered and reached over to grip their wounded arm, an attempt to staunch the flow of blood that had led Din to them like a trail of crumbs.

"Mando," the gravelly, demonically modulated voice had rarely been leveled his way. In fact, this might have been the first time they had officially spoke other than a few muttered words that their vocoders never properly translated.

Shouldering his rifle, his T visor listed down to meet the darkened pits of black sit into the wolf's face. "Ronin." A silent stalemate, leering between two hunters, and the obvious predicament they were both in. Perhaps not so much Din, as he was uninjured and had the comfort of two dozen feet between him and the swordsman. And yet, he drank his fill of the bottomless abyss of the Ronin's mask and wondered what the creature behind it was thinking.

"The bounty is hiding deeper in the caves," Ronin informed him eventually, sheathing their sword and glancing over to their injury still obscured by the copious amount of fabric that they somehow moved as if made of wind when the samurai stirred. "It would seem Karga gave both of us the same puck." No suggestions were made, just a plain statement that this might have been a setup to see which hunter would return victorious and if their counterpart would ever step within the cantina on Nevarro. A petty game on Karga's part.

"It would seem," Din agreed solemnly.

Another terse quiet slipped over the caverns, interrupted only by the heavy mouth breathing of the Ronin who appeared to be more gravely wounded than they were letting on. "Mando. I owe you one," they proclaimed, bending down to pick up the fallen dirk, sliding it into the plethora of multicolored obi sashed wrapped around their waist. "The bounty is yours, but-" Ronin fell to their knees, not out of faintness or blood loss, but in a respectful manner. The rim of the ashen rice hat tilting toward the ground as they pressed their uninjured arm over their heart. "I owe you a blood debt. Had you not shot the beast, I would be dead."

The legacy of Jakonan honor was not a matter to be taken lightly. He knew enough of their culture to be aware that any debts incurred were always paid in full. Saving the Ronin and expecting payment aside from the quarry, had not been his intention. However, in the few moments whilst he stood there regarding the cloaked silhouetted, he realized the debt he'd carved for the samurai.

"The bounty is payment enough," Din shifted uncomfortably, disliking the idea of being owed such a favor. He didn't need help, nor any indentured servitude from the Jakonan. What he had done was purely to create a means for an end. The Wampa needed to die regardless and letting it kill the Ronin did nothing but cost the galaxy the skill of another veteran bounty hunter. While they were not friends, he had passed the Ronin in the cantina for nearly 8 years now and they were the only hunter not to press his patience.

"A debt is owed," the Ronin repeated, the gravel in their voice softening and becoming disconcertingly soft compared to the imposing swordsman Din had warily watched from a distance. "And it may be paid in any manner which you see fit. Now or in the future."

He spared no other words to the Ronin as he stalked by, continuing to eye the figure as he slipped by, wondering if the samurai would ambush him while preoccupied with the bounty. However, upon returning with the wilting quarry in tow, the Ronin had departed, making well on their relinquishment of the bounty and leaving behind a few more droplets of blood. Despite how ominous the Ronin had always seemed, they could bleed.

"Did you offer the Ronin the same quarry?" Din asked tersely, leering down at Karga as he spoke of a Client in need of very particular and talented help. Two years had passed since his encounter with the samurai on Hoth, the snarling wolf's mask tilting toward him questioningly when they did manage to cross paths, a debt not forgotten. He had no intentions of ever making good on what the Jakonan felt they owed him. It had been a job and the Wampa was in his way.

"Ronin isn't interested. Fellow's got a list of jobs he won't take and this one falls under that category. Real shame, would've liked to see you beat him at his own game again," Karga yawned, glancing at his nails in disinterest over the finger details of why his other premier bounty hunter wasn't willing to take the job. This should have been an obnoxious red flag to Din, but instead a pang of relief echoed in his chest, glad that he wouldn't be crossing the swordsman again. Apparently, Ronin had given Karga an earful about passing the same fobs between them and had set boundaries that Din didn't care to discuss.

As far as Karga was concerned, Din had beaten Ronin to the punch with the quarry on Hoth. The disgruntled magistrate was unaware that the Ronin had been paces ahead of him and had their roles been reversed, it might've been Din getting his durasteel crushed in by the Wampa in place of the Jakonan. Most of the other hunters in the Guild were under the assumption that there was a bitter rivalry between the two of them. Ironically, they couldn't have been more incorrect. Both warriors kept their distance and respected each other's abilities. There was an unspoken line neither crossed and until Karga had decided to play his games, no necessary requirement for either to interact.

Despite the masks they both wore, the modulated voices, and the predatory prowess both of them moved in, the Ronin was different. On many afternoons, Din had entered the cantina to find the Ronin sitting at tables playing sabacc and conversing gently to other hunters. Despite the metallic and earthen tone the demonic mempo spoke with, there was something rather quiet and soft spoken about the samurai. He supposed that was why the majority of the hunters in the Guild preferred the Ronin to him. Din did not spend any longer within the grimy cantina than required, ferrying himself out to the next job unlike Ronin who tended to loiter and collect stories.

It had taken Din the better part of three years to glean why Ronin did this.

Despite being quietly charismatic, the Ronin did nothing without a reason. Subjecting themselves to the teasing of other hunters, to having to share a few stories of their own, it was minute payment in exchange for the tales and information other hunters adored vomiting up. Most bounty hunters, while guarded, loved to brag about their endeavors. While Din ignored his competition, the Ronin got to know them when they were least suspecting, over a hand of cards and with a few drinks in their system. Not once had Din ever noticed a drink in front of the samurai.

The Jakonan was playing them like they played sabacc, gleaning the intentions and ambitions of any hunter that stepped foot on Nevarro. Had Din the patience or social skills, he might have entertained the idea of making a futile attempt to commit the copious amount of time and credits that the samurai did. Though his patience had waned long ago and Din did not gamble. Despite this, the Ronin's intellect was not lost on him and he respected his adversary - who, until Hoth, had never failed bringing in a quarry.

Not until the fated day that he had donned a suit of full beskar did Din ever contemplate speaking to the Ronin about the incurred debt. Only when he sat up in his cockpit, staring forlornly through the observation shield with a silver orb rolling in his gloved palm, did he notice the flapping of the crimson kimono as the hunter trotted toward their own small starship to depart on a mission, did he consider it. Aside from his Tribe, he rarely put weight into the words and promises of others. Carrying him as if his legs were wind, he was outside his ship and following in the wake of the sandal imprints the samurai had left in the sand, peppered with ash.

"Ronin!" he called brusquely, the figure freezing, slowly craning to glance at him with the bottomless eyes, tusks peeled back in a menacing snarl. A palm rested calmly on the hilt of their katana, a gesture he'd noticed was natural rather than defensive. "Your debt."

The wind danced across the space-port, kicking up a haze of dust and ozone from the sulfuric lava flats less than a kilometer away. Neither figure felt it, their respective masks filtering the haze. A questionable tilt declined their hat and Din knew what it was they were wondering, without voicing it outwardly.

"I require payment."

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x oc #fennec shand & oc character #slow burn #very slow burn #touch-starved #homage to japanese culture

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sycamorality · 1 year

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also apparently i've forgotten to post one of my ancient ocs.... this is pearls collapsing within stained grounds. um. they never got a mask. ramble under cut. teehee. (The Horrors <3)

also ancients are creature-like to me. actually. i like them being a little creature

so yea this is literally a kid that got echoed. their parents promised them a gift, which was SUPPOSED to be their mask, after they ascended (global/mass ascension) for them to follow. they were never told was ascension was and just happily went along because ooh!! their mommy had a gift for them!!! and um.

pearls got echoed. they were in the void sea for quite a while, but wake up near the now collapsed ascension site. they are completely confused, but just think their parents and big brother are playing hide and seek with them. they wander about for a few cycles but stay near where they woke up, hoping their family will stop playing hide and seek soon. they don't understand why all the wildlife is scared of them, but the wildlife can tell they're an echo.

after a bit, they end up finding a small device where they woke up that allows them to communicate with others- though it only has access to the global line, which really only iterators with functioning communication arrays are on. they ask "has anyone seen my mommy????? she told me we were gonna do something and then i would get a gift but i cant find her!!!! i think she's just playing hide and seek!!!" and also mentions "i woke up with these really cool golden markings!!!!!" to anyone that isnt them, it's obvious they're an echo, but nobody tells them anything.

#rain world #rain world art #rain world ancient #rain world oc #oc tag: [pearls collapsing within stained grounds]#[oc rambles]#artnomalous #sunpool's colorful skies

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lifeofresulullah · 5 years

Text

The Life of The Prophet Muhammad: The Assignment of the Duty of the Prophethood and First Muslims

First Revelation is Sent Down

The 16th night of the month of Ramadan had passed.

The 17th of Ramadan was a Monday night.

The mount of Nour and everything around it was covered with a deep and significant quietness to be able to hear and listen to what would be said soon. Maybe, out of respect to the ones who would speak and listen to.

It was past midnight and almost dawn. The exceptional time when nightingales sing and roses give out pleasant scents with all their beauties. The extraordinary time when those who mention the names of Allah are enthused and attain endless pleasure!

Gabriel (may Allah be pleased with him), the angel of divine revelation, took the shape of a most beautiful human being and was quite delighted. The environment smelled wonderful. The manifestations of fear and hope, and excitement and peace were intertwined.

Gabriel (may Allah be pleased with him) was very joyful because he would meet the last Prophet, the Prophet of the prophets and he would talk face to face with the Sultan of Lawlaka, who would deserve the title, “the Beloved of Allah” with his belief, worship, contemplation, and struggle.

The expected moment finally came.

Gabriel (may Allah be pleased with him) appeared before the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) in his human form, sending out divine radiance around in the dark night. He spoke to him in a loud but calming voice: “Read!”

The heart of the Master of the Universe was filled with wonder and fear. His heart shivered!

He answered: “I do not know how to read.”

Gabriel hugged him and held him tight; then, Gabriel released him, saying, “Read!”

The Master of the Universe gave the same answer, “I do not know how to read.”

Gabriel hugged him for the second time and held him tight; then, Gabriel released him, saying, “Read!”

The Master of the Universe said, “I do not know how to read. Tell me! What shall I read?”

Thereupon, the angel recited the first verses of the Surah of Al-Alaq from the beginning to the end, which, through Allah Almighty’s ordering, he was in charge of conveying to the Prophet (pbuh):

“Read in the name of your Lord Who created. He created man from a clot. Read: And your Lord is the Most Bounteous, Who taught (to write) with the pen, taught man what he knew not.” (Al-Alaq Surah, 96:1-5)

The Master of the Universe (pbuh) was at the heights of excitement and amazement and recited what he heard word by word. The verses that came down became established both in his tongue and in his heart.

Gabriel, who fulfilled his task, disappeared suddenly.

“Cover Me!”

The Messenger of Allah (PBUH) shook with awe and excitement at having received a Divine revelation, left the cave, and went straight towards Mecca.

He encountered many peculiarities on the road. The mountains, rocks, and trees greeted him by saying, “Assalamu Alaykum Ya Rasulullah” (May peace be with you, oh Messenger) and congratulated him on his exalted duty.

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) arrived home. He had lost his breath in the face of the magnificence of this situation.

All he could say to his faithful wife, Hazrat Khadija Kubra, who anxiously greeted him was, “Cover me! Cover me!”

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) who sought solitude at mount Hira was now in his home and was now alone with his thoughts.

He woke up a while later. Even if it was a very small amount, it was obvious that he had reached some level of comfort and peace. He narrated what had happened to Khadijah al-Kubra in detail and said,

“I am scared, O Khadijah! I am scared that I will be harmed!”

Those words of our Prophet definitely originated from his desire to feel safe regarding reaching eternal happiness and honorable duty.

Hazrat Khadija possessed eminent capabilities as well as a level of understanding and discernment that qualified her to be the first wife of the most esteemed Prophet, whom she fully trusted. She affirmed the Master of the Universe’s (PBUH) wish about feeling safe with these words:

“There is no reason for you to feel any kind of fear or worry. Do not be sad, Allah will never embarrass a servant like you. I know that you always speak the truth. You perform duties that have been given to you and safeguard that which has been entrusted to you. You interact closely with your relatives. You treat your neighbors in a very kind and caring manner. You help the poor. You open your doors to strangers and entertain them as guests. You help the community during disasters and tribulations! Oh my Uncle’s Son, persevere. By Allah, I hope that you are this community’s prophet.”

What did Waraqa say?

Doubtlessly, everything that had happened was not insignificant and did have some meaning.

It was up to Hazrat Khadija to learn by inquiring.

Whom could she go to? Who could understand these affairs? And whom could he trust in?

Hazrat Khadija thought for a long time and finally determined the person whom she would consult with: Her uncle’s son, Waraqa bin Nawfal.

Waraqa bin Nawfal was an elderly man and a Christian in the pure sense. His eyes could not see yet his heart was enlightened. He read the Bible and Torah and had learned many things from them both.

Without wasting time, Hazrat Khadija went to go see her uncle’s son with our Holy Prophet (PBUH).

Waraqa first listened to our Master (PBUH). As our Holy Prophet (PBUH) explained what had happened to him, Waraqa’s face was changing color. When our Master (PBUH) finished speaking, Waraqa exclaimed: “Quddus! Quddus! The angel that you saw is the Holy Spirit, Namus al-Akbar, that the Exalted Lord sent to Prophet Musa. You are this nation’s Prophet. Ah! If only I were younger so that I could be with you when you invited the community to the truth. And if only I could live long enough to be of help when the tribe expelled you from your homeland.”

These expressions comforted both Hazrat Khadija and our Holy Prophet (PBUH) to some degree. However, there was one thing that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) did not understand: Why would the tribe expel him from his homeland?

Waraqa answered his question: “Yes, they are going to expel from you from here since whoever has received a revelation has been the recipient of hostility. If I am able to reach the day when you will invite the community to the truth then I will help you in every way I can.”

Waraqa bin Nawfal was speaking the truth - a reality that had to be exposed…

After this, our Holy Prophet (PBUH) and Hazrat Khadija left Waraqa bin Nawfal’s home.

REVELATION CEASES

Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) faced an incident called “the Suspension of Revelation.” after a while. It was evident that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was greatly saddened and distressed by this break in the deliverance of revelation, an incident whose wisdom we cannot fully grasp and which has been more-or-so described in the following way: Our Holy Prophet (PBUH) was so distressed that the earth was becoming too tight for him and he wanted to be saved from its restraint. During this time, either Jibril (Gabriel) or Israfil appeared to our Holy Prophet (PBUH) for the purpose of consoling him.

The Messenger of Allah (PBUH) was faced with sadness for an exact forty-day period. Since the world is a center that is composed of an indefinite number of Divine wisdom, everything that takes place within it undoubtedly has a purpose. Sometimes it is possible or impossible to catch the purpose behind these kinds of circumstances with the tiny measuring scales in our minds. However, not knowing their Divine wisdom and reasons is not by any means proof that they are without wisdom and reason. Above all, it is not possible for a duty like prophethood, in which everything has been specially programmed by the pen of wisdom, to be insignificant. For this reason, there were many pearls of wisdom and reasons behind the delay in the deliverance of revelation. However, we are not aware of them. There are many scholars who interpret this situation in various ways. Here is a summary of some of these views:

1) Allah’s Messenger (PBUH) greatly panicked in the face of the first revelation and the heaviness of the situation had jolted his soul. This incident occurred so that his soul could find some peace, be rested and prepared for the forthcoming revelations.

2) Our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) was being prepared for the burdens and tribulations that he was about to face.

3) The deliverance of revelation was delayed so that our Holy Prophet (PBUH) could long more deeply for the next revelation.

REVELATION RESUMES

After a hiatus of forty days, revelations were continued to be sent down to our Holy Prophet (PBUH).

He explains its resumption as follows:

“One day, while walking, I suddenly heard a sound in the sky. When I raised my head and looked at the sky, I saw the angel who came to me (Jibril, Gabriel) seated on a throne that was in between the ground and the sky. I shuddered and collapsed to the ground. I returned to my home and said, “Cover me! Cover me!” Upon this, Allah the Exalted sent down this revelation:

“O thou wrapped up (in a mantle)! Arise and deliver thy warning! And thy Lord do thou magnify! And thy garments keep free from stain! And all abomination shun!” From then on, the revelations began to come and there were no interruptions in between.

The discomfort in our Holy Prophet’s (PBUH) ceased when the revelation was continued to be sent down; his inner realm reached peace and tranquility. By appointing our Holy Prophet (PBUH), who was adorned with perfection and moralistic beauties from head to toe, to prophethood, Allah elevated him to the position of being the most distinguished and eminent individual among human beings. Thus, an extant law of the universe meaning, “every species has a distinguished and superior constituent that is the pride and joy and source of admiration for its kind”, which also applies to the circle of humanity.

“One of the names of Allah among asma al-husna is the greatest; similarly, there needs to be a perfect man among Allah’s creatures; Allah gathered and assembled all kinds of perfection that had been dispersed in the Universe in him, and made him His pride and joy.

“That perfect entity had to be a living being since the most impeccable creation among every species in the universe is a living being. That being had to be a conscious being since a conscious being is the most glorious among every species. That entity that had no and will not have a replicate had to be a person since humans have the unlimited ability to advance among conscious beings.

“That human being had to be Muhammad (Peace and Blessings be Upon Him) since not a single historical account, from the beginning of Hazrat Adam till now, shows nor can show an individual who is similar to him; that remarkable individual has encompassed half of the Earth and one out of five types of people under his holy dominion, has continued to rule his dominion with his spiritual sultanate for 1350 years (now it has been 1,400 years), and has attained the authority of being the Ultimate Master.

“By uniting his friends and enemies, he attained the highest degree in good manners and challenged the entire world at the beginning of his prophethood. This individual, who has shown more than 100 million people the Quran (whose declaration leaves everyone weak) at every given minute, was without a doubt the most distinguished being among all creatures; it cannot be anyone else other than him.

“He is both the seed and fruit of this universe.”

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alnilam-fr · 5 years

Photo

-Down In Yon Forest-

The ice sparkles as though champagne were poured over the top of the snow, dripping off of the ghost-pale branches of the wyrwood. The crescent moon sings softly.

Beneath the branches of the trees, the Progenitor walks. Her feet are bare as the white branches overhead, and she leaves no footprints. Light glimmers within the curve of her throat, the dusky skin spangled with constellations of blue and green. The wyrwood stirs for her as she raises a hand, the winter air steaming against her shining skin, and the branches move, angling a path down towards the river.

There is a road through the wyrwood now- architects from deeper in the Lightweaver’s territory laid it nearly a hundred years ago. It is still a new road, by the Progenitor’s long and aching reckoning of the years. Her Guardian, Baleen with the ocean eyes, came not long after it was completed. It is only Baleen who has stayed, though many come along the road and seek hospice. (Though the wood has not been cursed in living memory, time still flows a little differently in the Progenitor’s land, like amber, like syrup. Baleen looks little more than thirty, even now.)

The last merchant caravan to pass through before the snows came stopped briefly at the House, and a silk-voiced Wildclaw told them of the elemental magic surging around Sornieth. Emperor, he had whispered, his crest of feathers standing on end.

Emperor. They say it as an ugly word, and they always have, ever since the first. The Imperial dragons do not speak it at all. Do not permit the desecration to pass their lips. They do not bury their bodies in the ground, for fear of that disease which eats bone and blood and makes it into something savage and new. (“If I die here,” her love had said, long ago, when he had drunk just enough to think about it, “Be sure to burn my body. Bury the skull apart from the bones.” And then he had downed the rest of his drink and looked out the window at the slow dance of the stars.)

There is something lying sprawled across the river, blocking the flow of the water making its rambling way to the sea. Rivulets of overflowing water spill over the banks and track lines of ice in the snow. The creature has a mane of thick fur made heavy with frost, and as the Progenitor approaches she sees one pair of silver-blue eyes blink open, and then another, and then a fifth eye slits open to gaze at her as it exhales, rising steam billowing from its fanged mouth. The Progenitor looks at it, for a long time. This is not an Emperor, but it is something likewise ancient.

“Are you wounded?” she asks. Her voice crystallizes like the starlight in the cold. “Do you have a two-legged form?” Lightfooted, shadowless, she steps closer. Another pair of eyes open, pale as mercury.

I am wounded, it answers. The length of its mouth peels open to reveal rows of ivory teeth. Here. Lifting a foreleg and wing- the stomach is gleaming and pearl-colored, but scored with red as vivid as a scream. Blood drips down into the water, and clots darkly along the edges of the wounds. Beast attacked me. It coughs a little, dark stains spreading along its teeth. Emperor.

“What are you?” asks the Progenitor. She places a hand upon its stomach, magic gathering beneath her skin as slowly- slowly- the torn flesh knits back into scale and fur. “I think I dreamed a thing like you, long ago. When I was a girl.”

It inhales slightly, tasting the air like a cat. In this draconic form, it is as large as an Imperial, at least. You are ancient too, but not like me. I was born in the great glacier. My people were made when the mountains and the rain were young. Nutaikok decreed it thus. The accent of its words is strange to her. Northern, and yet not.

She moves to the next wound. Blood and light and water run between her fingers, onto her wrists. The blue silk of her sleeves is stained with blood. Ankle-deep she stands in cold water, but the Progenitor does not feel pain unless she chooses to do so. “They named me Souhayla,” she says. “Souhayla the Sunbringer. Souhayla of the Empty Hall. The Progenitor.”

I am Tekkeitsertok.

In a great rush of movement, he rises to his feet, blood running in sunset-red gouts from his stomach and side in the moonlight. The river water glitters in his fur, and then he folds in on himself with a ripple of magic. It is always difficult for large dragons, to turn themselves back and forth, but the man who collapses upon the side of the riverbank in the bloodred, copper-reeking mud is not so much larger than Souhayla herself. Perhaps a head taller. Broad in his shoulders. His many eyes still open and close- on his bare shoulder blades, along his arms, on the backs of his hands. The color of frost.

“I will bring you to the House,” the Progenitor Souhayla says, placing one hand on the bleeding gash on his stomach to seal it and looping the other arm through his. Tekkeitsertok nods, his breath still coming in ragged pants. I am of the Keepers, he says. Third Order. His voice still comes in a rumble from somewhere far away. Somewhere filled with ice.

“Be at peace, now,” the Progenitor murmurs. Her skin glows softly through her sleeves stained with water and blood, casting a faint light on the ground. “I will bring you home.”

#ch: souhayla #ch: tekkeitsertok #flight rising #fr lore #lore #christmas carol theme music for this lore entry. thematic

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nhi-theuserof-this · 4 years

Text

TW// depictions of blood, gore, fighting, almost drowning

Vague/censored version linked before the story begins

Link to lesser detailed version

https://nhi-theuserof-this.tumblr.com/post/636291051201626112/tw-depictions-of-bloodvague-fighting-almost

Technoblade.

Blood God. Merciless. Undefeated. The second worst thing to happen to the orphans.

His iconic crown was freshly polished and sitting back at his camp site because he didn’t want it to smudge while raiding a pillager outpost. For a little extra supplies on his journey.

By the time Technoblade had gotten there, the fight was already over. Blood spattered across a small campsite, some of which bellonged to a player and another shade, purple borderline blue, had been practically painted across the site. A single ender pearl washovering above the ground just an inch away from being in a river. A bloody and almost mangled body was in the river, stuck because of a part of a cloak that was caught on a bloody patch of rocks on the edge of the river. Whatever had happened simply wasn’t of much interest to techno as he snatched up the pearl and turned back towards the direction of his own campsite.

A hand shot out of the river and yanked on Techno’s cloak after gripping it, causing Techno to drop his loosely held axe as he fell in. Techno felt two hands grab his shoulders from behind, quickly moving up his body to grab at his neck. Before Techno could process this, the hands had already gripped around his neck and they squeezed. Technoblade choked as the hands around his neck tightened. Technoblade reached behind himself and grabbed the pair of arms, pulling the body connected to it towards himself in an effort to get them to losen or let go of him.

The figure’s grip loosened as Technoblade twisted around and kicked them in the stomach as hard as he could. Swiming as quickly as he could, Technoblade reached the surface as he took in a large breath of air before getting quickly pulled back under the water and used as a booster for the figure to reach the surface themself.

Both Technoblade and the figure had crawled onto the land and out of the river and were coughing out the water that had accumulated in both their lungs.

Technoblade struggled to breathe as he silently shook, not noticing that the figure had took his axe and was now standing behind him. The blade of his own axe had been brought down and was barely blocked with his forearm as the figure let out a shout. “Fucking hybrids!” Their voice was scratchy and hoarse as they scream once again. “I’ll kill you monsters!” They threw Technoblade’s axe in his direction as it skidded across the ground. The figure lunged at Technoblade and clawed at his head, the biggest sign he was a hybrid as it was that of a piglin.

Technoblade frantically crawled back before the figure landed on him and took out a switchblade from his pocket, now aiming to stab Technoblade. He raised his hand up and angles the weapon at his head. Technoblade used his uninjured arm to cover his face as the figure brought their weapon down, changing the destination of the blade last second landing it in Technoblades chest area. Technoblade let out a surprised squeal as the figure roughly pulled the switchblade and stabbed him twice more before being kicked off.

Technoblade scooted back just a smidge as he gripped his axe before the figure lunged at him once again. Swinging his axe at full force, it cleanly cut across the figure’s stomach as it opened up a little, blood pouring out and onto Technoblade as he swung again. The figures guts spilt out and onto Technoblade and the ground. Falling onto the ground beside him, Technoblade scrambled away not bothering to note the other body obscured from his vision when he entered as it was too close a call to linger without being in immediate range of a healing potion.

The kid mumbled something as Techno’s eyesight blurred. “Sorry kid, you’re gonna need to repeat that for me.”

“None.” Said a distorted voice, as the kid neevously looked away from Techno’s gaze. He would later put two and two together and figure out his parents were the ones that he found the remains of back at the other site, but Techno could barely think and almost didn’t register that this kid was an orphan now.

“I guess you’ve peaked in luckieness then,” Techno mumbled as his eyes slowly drooped and became half lidded. “B’cause if I wasn’t bleedn’ out right now I’d totally slay you.”

The small kid took a step back and Techno grinned, finding happiness in the fact that even on the verge of being forced to respawn, he could still terrorize small children.

Technoblade was suffeing a moral dilemma, and that never happens.

It’s completely against his own character to not slay an orphan, but it just feels.. wrong, wanting to slay the orphan that saved him from the pain that is respawning.

“Hey kid.” Techno mumbled as he dug into one of his many hidden pockets. “Come here for a second.”

Technoblade had taught this orphan many things.

“Make sure you always have full hunger.” After the orphan had run out of sprint as the two were running from several pillagers.

“Keep a close eye on your surroundings.” After the orphan got caught between a ghast an two skeleton.

“Here.” Techno said, opening the door to the blacksmith signaling that the orphan could come inside to see what Techno had been working on.

Lined up on a dusty table were several different sized crowns. On the inside of each one was a new message written for the orphan. “I have elected that as a small orphan child, you shouldn’t be allowed to see the things I do, and I can’t have the enemy mistake you for someone they can use as a hostage. Become greater then all the rest.”

“Goodbye.” Technoblade said as his boy walked through the portal.

“Ranboo.”

#mcyt #dream smp #mcytau #technoblade #ranboo #nhiwrotehere

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luxexhomines · 6 years

Note

Can I request Kokichi with his (S/O) who has the Hanahaki Disease? you can choose how it could end, with a good ending, or a bad ending, the power is yours owo

I have to say, anon, your ask made me laugh a lot when I saw it. It sounds so dramatic, aha! “The power is yours…..” and then with an owo. Anyways, here it is! I feel like it could have gone many different ways, but this is what I ended up with. I think it’s a little too long, though…and probably could have used more angst… Ah, well, maybe next time I’ll try writing the other ending if I feel so inclined to try or have some spurt of inspiration.

Kokichi Ouma x Reader with Hanahaki Disease

“Hey, Kokichi?”

You called out to the boy, who was walking in front of you in the empty hallway. He stopped and turned to face you.

“Hm? What is it?”

His face was relatively devoid of expression, especially in comparison to the usual dramatic faces he’d make. Your eyes took in the sight of him–his dark hair that twirled upward, his purple eyes, his slim frame.

“Ah–it’s nothing, sorry.”

His face twisted into an expression of amusement, and then he laughed, placing his hands behind his head casually.

“Yeah, how dare you waste the Ultimate Supreme Leader’s time with nothing! You have to make it up to me by hanging out with me tomorrow, okay?”

And with that, he skipped away without waiting for an answer. You supposed he knew you wouldn’t refuse–or rather, couldn’t refuse.

You loved him, after all. Although you weren’t sure whether he knew or not, he was astute and you figured he probably knew and just didn’t want to do anything about it.

You strolled down the hallway after him and out of the school, on your way home. That was when you felt an itch or discomfort of sorts in your chest, and you coughed. It wouldn’t go away, so you coughed and hacked some more, and then you felt something come into your mouth. It felt solid, so you spit out whatever it was into your hand, only for your eyes to meet a bright yellow flower petal–and a single drop of blood tinged its edge ominously.

You threw it away and watched it flutter to the ground gently as if it were just another petal shed by the spring rather than evidence of something terribly, terribly wrong within you. It was nothing, you were sure. You shouldn’t think too much of it, you told yourself, and you marched on home defiantly.

You tapped your foot impatiently. You’d been waiting here at the mall for at least ten minutes now, and it was originally Kokichi’s idea to hang out, too. He had sent you the pinned location and time, along with a mildly threatening message compelling you to come. You had felt a strange, twisting sensation in your gut and an aching feeling in your chest before you left–as if telling you not to leave, but you brushed off the ominous premonition of danger or foreboding, reminding yourself that you had no choice but to come whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed with neither sign nor notice from the very person who had invited you. Your heart sank. Was this just another prank of his? But even for the mischievous prankster who seemed to, to some extent, embody schadenfreude (the enjoyment of the suffering of others), this seemed much too cruel. You had been sitting on the bench, refreshing your texts hopelessly, even though you knew there was a low chance of him saying anything now. Dejected, you leaned back–but then you felt that odd discomfort living in your chest again, and hunched forward, coughing.

You hacked for some time before feeling something solid in your mouth again, and you spit it out ungracefully, only for more yellow petals to be revealed, and they fell limply to the floor, slightly damp and the edges tinged with a red substance–what that substance was, you didn’t care to figure out.

You stood to leave and then spotted a silhouette in the distance coming closer and closer. It was Kokichi, and he was running toward you for once, rather than away after playing a prank.

He waves, out of breath, and has to take a moment to catch his breath before speaking. You cross your arms across your chest.

“This had better be good, Kokichi,” you warned, but you felt your voice tremble slightly.

He straightens up and brushes the wrinkles out of his clothes.

“Sorry,” he apologizes in what seems to be a rather genuine manner. “I didn’t do it on purpose–not this time, at least,” he adds on after receiving a dubious look from you.

You sigh.

“It’s fine… Can you tell me ahead of time next time? Or just let me know how much longer you’ll be?”

He scratches his cheek sheepishly, looking cowed for once.

“I forgot to bring my phone… But yeah, I will next time. If I have my phone, that is. Do you still want to hang out?”

You feel a little voice inside you screaming at you to say yes, that you didn’t wait this long for him only to go home!

But you stamped it out mercilessly.

“I’m not feeling too well,” you admit, and as if on cue, you start coughing again.

Even though you weren’t one to worry about physical symptoms too much, the persistence of this was grating on your nerves and you were beginning to feel anxious. You didn’t put much stock in rumors, either, but who hadn’t heard of the Hanahaki disease? It was easy to brush it off the first two times it had happened, but a third time seemed to solidify your suspicions of the petals being something more than mere coincidence.

You can’t stop coughing, and again, yellow petals escape your parted lips before you can put a hand over your mouth and hide them.

“What’s that? Flower petals?” he asks, and he bends down to retrieve one of the fatal pieces of evidence; evidence of your love, your affection for none other than him.

You try to snatch it from those conniving fingertips, but he draws his hand back, out of your reach.

“Don’t touch that,” you rasp. “It’s dirty.”

But you’re ultimately unable to stop him as he lifts the damning petal upward so it catches the eye of the sun, and with it, the crimson-brown stains around its circumference are more than clear. You watch his face carefully, holding your breath. You didn’t know what he thought and hoped he wouldn’t see the truth you suspected.

His purple eyes gleam, and he faces you once again with a playful attitude.

“Oho? Do you happen to like someone?” he teases. “The pursuit of their affections isn’t going so well, is it?”

Your lips tighten into a straight, thin line, and you shake your head stiffly. To think you had thought for a moment that he might be sensitive to your impending crisis, that perhaps he might just realize it was him and reciprocate your love-

“So what? What’s it to you?” you interject hoarsely. “It’s none of your business, Kokichi. You’re always butting in whenever you please, and then you disappear when I’m looking for you. You have no right to talk to me about something like this.”

His expression changes so quickly, you almost miss it–for a moment, you thought he looked bitter–but he just has a cocky, self-serving smirk in place and his eyes are darkly shining, like the ore of a rock.

“That’s just the way I am, right? Can’t expect more than that from a guy like me.”

Frustration and anger burst from you in the form of speech, even if language could never express the intensity of the outrage you felt upon hearing such words from him.

“Don’t say that! You were supposed to refute me. I’m the only one allowed to say something like that to you!” you shout at him and spinning on your heel, you make your exit, turbid emotions still bubbling inside you and clawing to be let out.

The journey home is a space of time you don’t remember in the least. What you do remember after getting home is slamming the door to your room after you, leaning against it and then bending forward and coughing uncontrollably, wheezing for air with each bout of air you expelled from your lungs in addition to a cascade of ironically bright yellow petals that seemed to have flourished inside your body before leaving your lips like fluttering snow from clouds, coated in slick, red blood.

You don’t bother responding to his texts of concern or his provocative statements in an effort to just get some kind of answer from you, and roll over on your side in your bed so you face the wall, shutting your mind and heart to the world outside, longing to escape the turmoil shaking you from the core.

You wake to sunlight trickling in and running onto your closed eyes, so you open them blearily.

Almost immediately upon regaining consciousness, you feel that familiar pain in your chest, and you sit up, allowing a couple coughs to escape you, along with a few yellow petals.

All you could think was that you had to wrench yourself out of bed, had to get up and engage in your usual morning routine. So you did.

You coughed all the way from your room to the kitchen, where you wanted to make yourself something to eat. Or, at least, maybe put a piece of bread in the toaster. But even that proved to be too difficult, and your knees collapsed beneath you as you fell into another fit of coughing.

The golden petals seemed to be mocking you with their beauty, as jewels from tears must have in the fairytale of the girl who cried pearls and precious gems. You knew somewhere in your hazy state of mind that it hadn’t always been like this, that in fact, you had only been suffering from this affliction for less than two days–but somehow you couldn’t seem to remember a day you had lived without this hurt in your chest, and you clung to the kitchen counter from your position on the floor weakly.

Then you heard the door burst open, and footsteps neared you. You closed your eyes. This situation would be very difficult to explain.

“Hey, are you okay?!”

It was him, and by the sound of his voice, he was sincerely worried.

You try to respond, but all that comes out is some heavy breathing and more coughing, accompanied by the signature petals of gold. You lift your head to look at him and shrug helplessly. It’s then that you become aware, also, of the way your entire being is shivering.

“I knew something was up,” he bites his thumb in irritation. “You should have just told me! Am I so hard to rely on?”

But before you can reply, he answers his question for himself.

“Of course I am,” he mutters spitefully.

You open your mouth to object, once again, to the derogatory way he talks about himself, but little comes out.

“N-No,” you cough.

His eyes widen.

“Did you say ‘no’? So you can talk, after all. Just barely.”

You nod to affirm his conclusion, and he sighs in relief.

“So that’ll make this a little easier, then.”

He looks you straight in the eye, unblinking and as open and honest as you’ve ever seen him.

“Who do you like?”

You immediately avert your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” you mumble. “If it’s unrequited, it’s unrequited. Nothing I can do about it.”

He grits his teeth in frustration.

“We don’t have a lot of time, smartass! Either you tell me who it is and we do a last-ditch effort at getting them to like you, or we go to the hospital and get these petals removed, even if it means you can’t love again because god forbid I let you die on the floor of your kitchen while I’m here!”

You take a wary look at his face.

“You’re going to regret having asked,” you say dryly.

“Try me,” he retorts. “I might be disgusted by your choices, but if we can get them to like you and fix you up, I’m not going to regret it.”

You laugh, even though to him, it must not seem funny at all. But the laughing only spurs another attack of coughing, and he rubs your back in an effort to calm you. When you stop, he grabs your face with both hands.

“Okay, spit it out already!”

You smile, the corners of your lips tugging upward. You never wanted to confess like this, maybe had thought you never wanted to confess at all, but-

“It’s you, Kokichi.”

He’s completely caught by surprise, and his mouth falls open like an idiot–like a certain someone he liked to make fun of all the time. He catches himself, though, and quickly enough, his face shows resentment.

“Ha-ha, very funny. You’re literally about to die, and you’re still making jokes of bad taste?” he scoffs. “If I weren’t this nice, I would have thrown you under the bus and left you to die already.”

You shake your head gravely, and suddenly Kokichi realizes that there’s not a hint of humor on your face. Nothing of the kind that he was used to, at least.

“Wait. You’re serious,” he deadpans, and he searches your features for further confirmation.

You simply nod, and he finally sees the yearning in your eyes, the way you looked at him with affection, perhaps slightly exhausted, but persistent, and the pain that had expressed itself as coughing and brilliant yellow flower petals previously. He had gotten so used to looking for the lies in other people that he had failed to realize when the truth had finally presented itself before him.

He doesn’t know how to feel at first. His mind is running in circles, chasing his heart frantically, trying to catch up. He’s never known what the two of you were–friends? Good acquaintances? Something more?

But now that he’s re-evaluating the relationship the two of you share, he finds that there was a whole lot of affection for you in his pestering and pranks, a great love in the way he would incline you to spend time with him, and so much more in his actions and words that he had never knew held hints of liking you.

You smile in sour amusement.

“I told you you’d regret-”

But you were promptly interrupted by a less than graceful kiss smack dab on your lips, forceful and yet unimaginably brief.

“Don’t make assumptions on your own!” he scolds. He can’t tell if he’s angrier at you for not telling him sooner and clearing up the confusion for him or if he’s angrier at himself for not figuring it out sooner and keeping you from all this unnecessary pain.

Your eyebrows furrow. What were you registering right now? Something seemed to have met your mouth, but it couldn’t possibly have been what you thought, right?

Right?

“Geez,” Kokichi complains as he pulls you to your feet relatively effortlessly for a person of his stature. “You should’ve just told me earlier! Then you wouldn’t have gotten sick and there wouldn’t have been all this extra drama.”

You stumble as you stand like you do over your words.

“Wait… That means…”

He practically screams it in your ear.

“Yes! I like you, you dimwit!” He kisses your cheek, softly this time. “I don’t know how you didn’t figure it out after I kissed you and basically said I didn’t regret hearing that you liked me.”

He rolls his eyes, and you have to laugh at his melodrama. Typical Kokichi.

This time, no coughing ensued, and you leaned in, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose playfully.

“I love you, Kokichi.”

You can’t tell if it’s your willful imagination or not, but his cheeks seem to become slightly pinker, and he plants his hands on his hips.

“You think I can’t tell after you physically got lovesick over me and confessed to my face?” he snarks back, and you bite back laughter at his childish stubbornness.

Nothing in the world was more attractive to you than Kokichi at that moment–and you suspected for lifetimes to come.

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novantinuum · 5 years

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: ~2K

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which everyone's panicking, and honestly Steven can't blame them.

First

Chapter 2: Knowing

Thankfully, they’re not alone when they warp into the temple. Pearl and Garnet are sitting at the counter, caught mid conversation, and Amethyst is flopped lazily across the couch with her arm hanging over the edge. Still shivering, Steven clings ever tighter to Bismuth’s arm, glancing with tear stained eyes between his Gem self and Garnet, the only one in his direct line of sight.

She shoots to her feet. Her mouth twists into an expression laced with more raw panic than he’s ever seen her convey in his life, and that thought alone hurts enough to shoot a physical pang through his nerves.

“Steven! Bismuth!"

“Ah, there you are,” Pearl greets amicably, and begins to turn to face the warp pad. “We were wondering where yo- oh good heavens!!"

“Dude...” Amethyst says as she shoots upright on the couch, her face turning a paler shade of purple.

He feels Bismuth’s form grow tense at their now inescapable attention, her fingers wrapping around his prone body just a little bit tighter. The pink clone generated by his gemstone glitches, the edges of his hard-light form morphing to fuzzy static that phases in and out of shape. Simultaneously, Steven winces at the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles tingling through his limbs.

Any and all shell-shocked confusion dies at the unquestionable sight of a cracked Gem. His family rushes across the room to the warp pad in no more than a nanosecond flat, their shrill, panicked voices and Bismuth’s overlapping each other until he can barely pick out what any one of them is saying. His ears begin to ring. More arms than his disoriented senses can count dance under his back, and before long a thick blanket is wrapped around him, (is that his entire bedspread?), and he finds himself secure in Garnet’s hold, halfway across the room by the loft stairs. Safe! Admitting it leaves his stomach gnawing with nausea, because it feels so much like a blatant betrayal against the forgiving, accepting person he aspires to be, but it’s a relief to no longer be in the mercy of Bismuth’s grasp.

The Gems continue to fuss and argue about goodness knows what, their faces blurring in and out of focus as the seconds tick on. Notably, Pearl’s voice rises above all the others. She kneels next to Other Steven, wrapping her arm protectively around him. (He may be imagining it, but he swears he can feel the phantom whispers of her touch on his own shoulder.) He’s mostly gotten used to that baseline dull ache left behind in place of his gemstone by now, but whenever his counterpart’s form flickers and warps due to the crack that’s no doubt splayed across the rose quartz’s surface, that ache spikes into sensations uncomfortable enough to make his toes curl. If this is the pain he’s able to feel without his gem altogether, then what kind of agony is Other Steven in? His eyes brim with hot, sloppy tears, a sharp whimper passing his lips. The others are far too busy arguing to notice.

“—took him to the lower forge alone?? What were you thinking? It’s far too hot for him down there!”

Bismuth pales. “I’m- I honestly didn’t think about—“

“‘Kay, but literally none of this explains this freaky clone action,” Amethyst butts in, jutting her finger towards the pink Steven standing motionless in Pearl’s embrace. “Somehow he split entirely apart from his gem, so—“

“Enough!” Garnet says. One of her hands gently strokes his forehead, a stark difference from the impatience etched within the tension in her face. “This entire conversation is irrelevant, we should be—“

“Y'guys,” he croaks, but they're all so caught up in argument that he's brushed right over, which... kinda hurts. A lot.

“—how can he fuse with his gem half again if he’s completely hu—“

Pearl bristles. “It is not irrelevant, something terrible’s happened and Bismuth hasn’t explained herself!”

“Pearl, I’m trying, but you won’t—“

“I don’t care how any of it happened!” Garnet roars. Even though it’s not directed at him, he flinches at the harshness of her anger. “His gem is cracked!!”

The room falls silent.

He nuzzles his head into the crook of her arm, feeling ever safer in her embrace. "Thank you," he whispers. She responds with a gentle squeeze.

To his side, Bismuth squirms a little, nervously folding her hands together and apart over and over...

“This is all my fault,” she says brokenly. He’s almost positive there’s tears budding at the corners of her eyes.

“This isn’t about us,” Garnet says, more sensitively this time. “This is about helping Steven.” Then, in a whisper only for him: “Hold on. You’re gonna be all right, I promise.”

Steven gets the sense this comment is more for her benefit than his. He’s unsure if that should scare him or not.

(How many futures has she just watched where he di- No, he thinks. Not going there, nope nope nope.)

Amethyst hobbles up onto the warp pad then, urgently gesturing for everyone else to join her. “Well come on, no time to waste, yeah? We gotta get the two Stevens to Rose’s fountain!”

The other Gems agree readily, and follow behind. Bismuth’s steps are stiff and stilted. Meanwhile, Pearl leads his quiet pink counterpart by the hand, assisting him up the stairs of the warp amid his glitching. Out of everyone, the blank shock written clear as day across her face suggests she’s especially haunted by the existence of that hard-light version of himself. More so than everyone else. Carefully regarding her as Garnet carries him— still wrapped like a burrito— in his blanket, Steven can’t help but wonder why.

The warp activates, enveloping them in its glow. In seconds, they’re all coursing through the warp stream at record speed. One thing he knows for sure: he’s super glad he has his bedspread with him, because this strange little pocket of space hung between dimensions has a knack for being chilly, especially outside of the stream. It’d suck to start shivering again right after finally settling down.

Reassuringly, the promise of sunrise greets him in vibrant stripes of pink and orange as they promptly arrive at their location. It‘s night back in Beach City, but he’s pretty sure Mom’s fountain is somewhere in Europe. Maybe France? So, the sunrise makes sense. Large trees and shrubs block out the horizon in every direction, growing wild without constant nurturing. Still, it all looks leagues nicer (and infinitely less threatening) than the first time he came here. A spike of tingling runs up his nerves, reminding him that unfortunately, with his gem cracked, (and still no clue how he split apart from it in the first place), now’s no time to waste sightseeing. His chest tightens as he suddenly realizes he’s missing one crucial family member. One family member he— even if it’s a bit of a childish thought— really wants holding his hand right about now.

“Wait, I need Dad,” he speaks up, voice hoarse and shaky.

Garnet hugs him closer to her chest at that admission. She presses her forehead against his, whispering some reassurance he can’t quite catch.

“Amethyst, go back and fetch Greg,” Pearl says. “You can meet us at the fountain.”

She nods, for once not even arguing with her orders. “On it."

Her long white hair ripples in waves behind her as she sprints back to the warp pad. Soon enough, he spots a column of cyan light shooting up into the sky. His fingers knead the edge of the blanket he's wrapped in, desperately trying to keep his mind from entertaining all the worst possible outcomes. It's becoming harder to ignore his pink double's suffering, even though he's remained near-silent this whole time. Anyways, he really, really hopes she'll be back with his dad soon.

Steven's attention returns to the others, and he watches as Pearl’s eyes narrow slightly, her glance sliding back to Bismuth. “When all this is over, we’ll be discussing things like upholding sleep curfews, practical safety tactics, and the key differences between Gem and human anatomy.“

Her brow tightly creasing, she smooths out the front of her apron. “Yup. Received and understood.”

“We’d also appreciate more context on how all this happened in the first place,” Garnet says, gesturing between him and the Other Steven hand-in-hand with the tall, salmon haired Gem.

Without any other forewarning, Other Steven’s previously glassy expression snaps into alertness. “Breaking point,” he blurts out for the first time since the forge, tone flat. “Bismuth cracked me—“ a particularly violent glitch overwhelms the stability of his hard-light body, his words fragmenting— “htiw a gnikaerb tniop.”

The strength of Garnet’s hold on him triples, as if in her fury she’s unintentionally forgotten about how she’s carrying him in the first place. He winces, totally not thinking about how he’s watched her poof corruptions by squeezing them. Nope, nosiree, not at all.

“Uh, Garnet?”

“She did what??!” Pearl says, whirling towards the individual in question.

“Okay, okay!” Bismuth backs a few steps away, terror curling across her face at the sight of her looming anger. “So I know it sounds bad, and well, it kinda is, but I swear if you give me the chance to I’ll expla—“

“NO!”

The stone pathway splinters under the hard-light Steven’s feet as he yells, tipping everyone off balance. Pearl and Bismuth stumble and fall. Garnet takes a knee, and somehow avoids dropping him. Around them, a handful of frail limbs on a nearby tree crack and collapse to the ground. Bewildered and genuinely frightened by this display, Steven desperately locks eyes with the other him, watching his form endlessly warp and morph and flicker into impossible shapes. For a fragment of a second he swears his double’s irises flare hot pink.

“You TRUH mih!” Other Steven shouts at Bismuth, his fury pinning her in her spot, even in garbled phrases. “Uoy deirt ot RETTAHS—“

He disappears with a poof of smoke, retreating into the rose quartz gem. His gem. Immediately all phantom pains recede, settling back into that dull emptiness sitting in the pit of his stomach. For but a heartbeat, the gemstone remains airborne, its facets glittering in the glow of the morning sun. It’s big, larger than even seems possible, the exposed pentagonal surface only counting for a fraction of its full size. Somehow hidden within him this whole time, the sides of the pink gem flare outward and jut into a steep point. Pearl audibly gasps, slamming both hands over her mouth. Garnet and Bismuth recoil at the sight.

Then gravity asserts control, and it tumbles down, down, careening towards the hard stone like dead weight. Before it can shatter entirely on the ground, Pearl dives with the finesse of a polished gymnast, catching the gem and clutching it tight to her chest as if to obscure it from the others.

“Pearl?” Steven croaks.

Her face is white as milk, and her slight frame is shuddering. “You were never supposed to...”

“B-but this doesn’t make sense! That wasn’t- you’re not a rose quartz,” Bismuth stutters, carefully standing to her feet. His stomach sinks at the accusation, his brow furrowing with confusion. “That gemstone, it’s—“

In all the years to come, he doubts he’ll ever forget the visceral fear laced within Garnet’s whisper, fear not for him, but of him:

“—it’s Pink Diamond.”

Notes:

Cracked/glitching Gem Steven's dialogue, for ease of reading:

“Breaking point. Bismuth cracked me with a breaking point.”

“NO! You HURT him! You tried to SHATTER—“

Basically, he was in such poor shape that he retreated back into his gem (in an futile attempt) to heal. He was exerting far too much energy there in his anger, poor thing.

Note, none of the CGs actually suspected Bismuth intentionally hurt Steven until that bombshell. Before that, their assumption was that she took him on a lil' midnight sightseeing trip and he got cracked/split by accident. I figure they'd have no reason to suspect any foul play before that.

And Gem Steven... he finally spoke up when he had information of relevance to add to the conversation. Garnet outright requested more context on how the two Stevens split, gesturing towards him as she did, and so he told her. The argument in the temple was more of an argument about him, and not including him, so he remained quiet. And then later, he's calling Bismuth the heck out on her attempt at squirreling away from the blame. He's... very, very protective of his other half.

#su #steven universe #su fanfiction #su fanfic #garnet #pearl #amethyst #bismuth #my writing stuff #crack the paragon

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fandomgirl2312 · 6 years

Text

Saving Cayde

I can't cope with the fact that Cayde dies...

So I write a fanfiction in which my OC, Ferra (Cayde always calls her „Foxy“ because of her gleaming orange eyes and red, short hair.), an awoken female warlock saves him by sacrificing herself. Boom. (If you can't handle mary-sue shit, don't read this... )

Warning: some gore + angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Ferra POV*

I shot every lousy Scorn that ran towards me, and the blood of dozen fallen beasts staining the front of my visor made it harder for me to aim and make clean shots. And even worse, the adrenaline and rush of the fight was starting to make my hands shake. I sensed that something was wrong, and hoped so, so dearly that nothing happened to Cayde.

That everything would be fine.

My coppern ghost whirled around me, struggling to heal the wounds that were plastered all around my body, but the precise shot of a sniper is what finally made me fall with a pained scream, my head colliding with the ground and helmet shattering in the process, the shards embedding themselves in my skin and barely missing my left eye.

I grunted when I felt the pulsing pain in my leg and squinted my eyes, trying to focus on my enemies through the blur of my vision.

I could almost not escape the snapping maw of a Scorn, it's yellowish teeth only a few centimeters away from my face, and emitted a wave of solar energy from my hand to send the alien flying in the other direction.

As a result of dodging the attack while already sitting on a steep edge, I tilted back too far and began rolling down the ledge, so I reopened the wounds Eve, my ghost, just healed.

She immediatly cursed something in vex-language and swapped back to english after de-materializating from my side:

'Would you PLEASE stay still for just ONE second? I can't do my work if you keep moving and jumping!'

I finally regained control of my fast descent as I got hold of a cable that hung out of the damaged and crooked ground-plate.

I crashed against the now even steeper ground and a pained wheeze for air left my protesting lungs as the wind was knocked out of me.

I had to stop myself from swooning and looked up instead, seeing that the scorn have found a weapon stand.

'easier said than done!'

The sentence left my mouth quiet and pressed, and I looked over my shoulder, down into the now not so deep abyss. A few broken stories underneath me was a quiet battlefield, and I started to feel sick when I saw the precise headshot on every dead prisoner. That could only be Cayde's work. This could mean he is either fine and has already met Petra, bragging about his Kills and how cool he must have looked.

Or...

My ghost materialized directly next to my ear, her voice immediately screeching.

'...been working with you for YEARS now. FOR. YeARS! You know how pissed I get when you don't let me do my job, and you don't...'

I rolled my eyes when Eve's nagging voice brought me back to reality, and I looked up again to see that some scorn began to climb down towards me, gun in hand, already aiming at me and Eve.

My eyes widened as the first salve flew by my head, so I snatched my ranting and now utterly protesting ghost out of the air and let go of the cable, jumping backwards to the lower platform.

A small light-jump curbed our fall, and as soon as I hit the ground again, I limped, as best as I could, into the shadows of the higher floors. The scorn seemed, surprisingly, not interested in following us. Eve has finally turned silent and got to work, so I let myself slump against a wall and slide to the ground, wounded leg stretched out.

I pulled my broken helmet off my face, the shards of the Visor still stuck in my skin.

I pulled on the shards with some light I formed in my Hand, all pieces leaving the cuts clean and net even hurting anymore.

Eve carefully weaved the thin strings of light in the hole the bullet left in my leg, and the light did the rest.

I took the minute to check my ammunition and reloaded my pistol, my eyes falling on the side of the weapon.

It had a cranky, smudgy text written on it, and I smiled when I read it for the hundredth time:

Cayde was here :3

I didn't really know when he has written this, and I didn't really care. But it was from him, and that's all that counts.

Suddenly, oh so suddenly, the single shot of an all too familiar gun, the Ace of Spades, ripped the momentum of silence, and my head whipped to the direction it was coming from, gun raised, panic at high levels.

Eve has already finished her work, and her optic looked troubled, almost scared in my eyes, the coppern shell reflecting the light of the fires around us.

I immediately stood up and ran-floated, as quiet as I could, towards the collapsed concrete wall, where the sound was coming from.

And as I slowly, slowly neared the corner, I focused on the sounds that came from the other room.

I almost didn't hear the faint and pained cough of a mechanic vocal chord, and I snapped around the corner, forgetting all my caution.

I froze.

My gun slipped out of my hand, colliding with the ground soundly, but I didn't hear anything.

My worst nightmares have turned to reality.

It was Cayde.

Wounded.

On the ground.

And his ghost was nowhere to be seen.

As soon as I defroze, I stumbled towards him, tears already threatening to escape my eyes.

This was supposed to be a normal Mission, like all the thousand missions before. Going in, having fun shooting bad guys, going out, laughing. But not this time.

I collapsed by his side, and the vents in his neck immediately whirred a bit louder, his optics refocused on the tears on my face and another pained wheeze left his vocals.

Eve immediately came to my side, scanning him and his wounds, already concentrating: But then, she stopped, looking at me, her shards expressing sadness, and I knew immediately that she couldn't help, even if she tried to. My shuddering hands slowly rested on his chest, feeling the incredible heat of his processors working so hard to keep him alive, and even more tears started leaving my eyes.

'Hey foxy...' another strangled cough left him.

His hand calmly took hold of my trembling ones, and I smiled through the tears, looking into his eyes again.

I saw him give up, finishing up with his live, and it broke my heart to see that.

And suddenly, my heart stopped.

Technically, I COULD save him. With some Warlock-magic, it SHOULD be possible.

I knew, Ikora forbid us to perform rituals like these, but in that moment I didn't care, only one thought flew through my mind. And that was saving Cayde.

I repositioned myself and closed my eyes, I crossed my legs, straightened my posture and breathed. Concentrated. Focused on the light in the room.

I felt the robotics light, faint and disappearing, right in front of me, and I laid my hand on his chest yet again, this time calm and not shuddering.

Cayde was too far gone, too close to death to react, and I slowly grasped the light in him, pulling at it, keeping him close and giving him the light that was within me.

At the same time, my other hand floated over his body, forming runes, and I started to feel that the ritual worked. I opened my eyes and saw, but mostly heard, how the metal plates in his face bent back into place, I on the other hand suddenly felt strong and disgustingly stinging pain in my jaw.

I gave him my light and took his injuries.

That's what saves him.

But kills me.

Eve finally realizes what I am doing and her optics change from a confused to a shocked expression, and then to a pained one, her shards loosing all her gleam and all her strenght.

Cayde's optics snapped back to life and he gasped for breath, immediately looking at me, seeing what I am doing.

I already took most of his wounds, and I felt bruises form all over my Body. But when my Hand floated over to the gazing hole in his chest where the bullet of his own gun struck him, he gripped my arm and held it incredibly tight.

'Don't...' was all he could mutter, still too weak to do anything else, and his gleaming blue eyes held so much pain in them. But it wasn't physical pain.

I started to tear up even more, and I bit my lip, forming all my strenght that was left to perform the last ritus. I thought about how the city would need him, the vanguard of hunters, far more than me, a expirable, simple warlock. And I knew, after I have done that last move, there would be no turning back. I would be doomed to die, to really die. But he would live. And that's what counted.

So I just moved my Hand over the point where the bullet sank in his metal form, his hand on my arm not able to stop me.

I wasn't ready for the searing pain that shot in my chest, and I opened my tightly shut eyes again to look at the mech's chest. The hole started to close by itself, and instead the pain in my chest got worse.

There was almost no light left in me, and I stopped the transition of life between me and Cayde, gripping at my chest with one hand and slumping down.

Blood oozed out of the fresh wound and stained my once pearl white uniform, and the dark room around me started to blur out. The sounds turned strange, and I saw the weak flickering light of Eve, who wasn't able to help me because there was no light left in all the three of us.

I was about to tip backwards and lose consciousness when a strong and hard arm wrapped around my back.

But I still only limped against it, my head falling back and my neck arching.

Then I felt a gloved hand in my neck, pulling my head upright and I winced in pain. Bright orange eyes collided with blue optics, both in pain, both troubled.

'No... foxy... dammit Ferra!'

He stopped to look up at the ceiling, his jaw slightly clenching as he suppressed to scream and cry at the same time. And even now, when hand in hand with death, I smiled and couldn't take my eyes off his beautiful face, but at the same time felt sorry to make it look so pained.

He started rocking me back and forth in his arms in a distressed and lost way, and I whispered with unexpected calmness:

'You look really old without your cape'

His optics landed down on me again, oily tears leaving his eyes as he lost control. His head sunk to my shoulder, sobs rocking his body. I lifted my hand slowly and tugged the hood of his cape over his head, pulling him closer, seeking some sort of comfort in the endless cold of death crawling towards me. I tried to comfort him with small words, to soothe him as I faded away, and my eyes fell on my gun I had left at the entrance to the room.

'Eve... my gun...'

She immediately understood my plea and swirled towards the crimson red pistol. The ghost pinched the holster of the gun and lifted it up with great effort, her flight back to my hand strongly swaying up and down.

I sighed when she dropped it in my hand, the familiar feel of it's handle comforting me.

Cayde was lost in my arms, sobbing quietly to himself, gripping me tight, so I gently tugged at the arm that was slung around my neck.

The exo slowly lifted his face from the crook of my neck and looked at the gun in my hand, chuckling low with sad tone to it when his eyes fell on his writing.

'I thought you would re-paint it...'

I tried to smile, but started coughing as the strong pain shot through my chest again.

The blue optics looked at me again, worried, pained, saddened. And when I pressed my gun in his hand, the expression got worse.

'Take good care of Eve for me... and get your gun back...'

He nodded slightly, closing his eyes and pulling me closer again, putting the gun in his empty holster.

I slung my arms around him again, listening to the soft and strong whirr of processors and vents in his body, remembering that he would live, that he would carry on.

I smiled when I felt his warmth, his presence, his entire being with me.

I felt my heart flutter, I felt it grow weaker, I felt it struggle...

The world completely darkened around me, and the last thing I heard

was the pained scream of a hunter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Help me I have serious trouble with sleeping since forsaken came out...

That actually was my first fanfic... and english isn't my mother tongue xD

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