#*flailing and vague noises*

[fistfuloflightning]

You are without doubt the worst rogue cultivator I’ve ever heard of. Ah. But you have heard of me.

Some Mobei-jun/rogue cultivator!Shen Yuan brainrot—thanks to @neonghostcat I can no longer separate SY from the guandao 😭 (thank you from the bottom of my heart)

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

@boogdleyboo

(I'm making this a new post so that I don't keep stacking on the other one)

Behold! Excuse the use of overframe, I can't get on the actual game itself today for a better screenshot

This is technically a half-baked build, but it is also one of the only two weapons I ever got asked for my build on in an actual mission, so, y'know, there's that for something

Two forma, but you'll need a third if you max the 10-pip mods

Forget status, the alt fire already guarantees two procs and has a 50% chance at a third, you don't need to cram on any more than that. Scattering Inferno is literally just here bc it fits, I'll put on something better when I forma again (probably Primed Charged Shell just to stack on more damage)

Hunter Munitions is a boring choice but hey, it gives you a pretty solid chance of getting another proc on just primary fire, so it works out well enough for me

Critical Deceleration and Shotgun Barrage even out pretty well here, but any more fire rate and it starts chewing on my quality of life with the recoil. Sorry wisps

This is entirely mods I own, so I can't give you proper info from experience on anything beyond that, but!

Exilus: I cba to forma just for this but if you really wanna squeeze something in there, you can never go wrong with projectile speed on a relatively accurate shotgun such as this. Or you could go for reducing recoil, esp if you're using a frame that boosts fire rate

Galvanized Hell: Very Yes. More bullets = more pain. Swaps onto this specific build without formaing needed

Galvanized Savvy: meh. According to the scientific minded grapevine of a server I'm in and also just my own brain, this one is just stacking onto the innate gimmick of the gun with diminishing returns and overall not so great stats (you don't need the status chance boost, and the damage boost only stacks x2 for a total of 80%)

Arcane: probably Merciless bc that's the only one anyone ever uses, but I personally wanna give Frostbite a spin someday when I get there, since the alt fire pumps out cold procs like no tomorrow. And I need some variety in my life

Highest I've used this build has been lvl110-115 Zariman bounties where it still deals with regular enemies no problem (but the angels make fun of it so, y'know, maybe bring something more appropriate for the damage attenuation), so I can't attest to how it holds up on Steel Path or in endurance

[ectoplasmer]

*slides into your ask box* Sooooooo rainy something fun for your consideration.... 👀

Seto and I went out of our way to include traditions from both of our cultures in our wedding. One of the smaller ones from my side of the family (Welsh) was the myrtle in the bridal bouquet.

Traditionally, the bridal bouquet can be any combination of flowers, but should always include myrtle. And after the ceremony, that myrtle is carefully removed from the bouquet and distributed to the bridesmaids (and since I only had two actual maids, Honda and Ryou got included in this despite being men lol).

Each member of the bride's wedding party then plants the cutting of myrtle. If any of them take root, it's an auspicious sign for the party member's own romantic relationships... and the first person to have theirs do that is supposedly the next one to get married, sort of like an alternative version of a bouquet toss but just for the bride's party!

Sooooooo not that he's told me anything, buuuut guess whose once-little sprig of myrtle I saw growing into a thriving little houseplant in a nice big pot when I was at his house yesterday? 👀

—@dark-magical-ships 💙

…hhhhhh i’m sobbing into my hands AMATA… DUDE….

i stopped functioning for like a whole hour upon reading this the first time ANYWAY

first off I absolutely love learning little tidbits about different cultures and traditions from them like this; it’s very intriguing getting to compare them to each other and seeing how things differ and where they are similar. I actually think this is a super interesting way of doing a “bouquet toss” and is a much more engaging way of going about it :0

and secondly… aagshddnckd SOBS just the implications behind Ryou even participating in planting the myrtle in the first place is driving me INSANE i’m literally giggling just typing this >_< this is just me drawing conclusions, and it could always just be something as simple as him wanting to respect traditions, but… if he’s planted it and he’s actually put in the effort to take care of it to the point that the myrtle sprouted and grew… does that mean he’s actually thought about marriage? that maybe he’d even be open to it? to… marrying me??

Just… I don’t know what I could’ve ever done to be his girlfriend, what I could have possibly done to be this lucky, but to have Ryou even think about marrying me, or think about spending the rest of his life with me… this boy is going to be the literal death of me, I swear >////<

on a less sappy note… picturing ryou taking care of a houseplant is actually a very nice image <3

[sabertoothwalrus]

do you think Falin's chimerism would affect her lifespan and behaviors? or just her body? maybe she can make more animalistic noises or has vague dragon-like instincts?

that’s a really good question! I think we could probably figure this out by taking a look at what we know about Falin, what we know about red dragons, whether these things would apply to Falin, and go from there.

The obvious external changes Falin has are: her eyes, her teeth, and her feathers.

It’s hard to pin down what Falin is like! Throughout the duration of the manga, she wasn’t really a character so much as a plot device. We have almost nothing told from her point of view, and the majority of her unbiased (as in, we’re seeing her through a neutral lens and not another character’s perception of her) characterization is from the post-canon omake.

Even Falin believes that her wanderlust might come from her dragon side, but she's not sure. Personally, I think it’d make a lot of sense if it kind of does, in the sense that she has 20/20 vision now, haha! For most of her life, she could probably only see clearly within a relatively small sphere surrounding her, and now she can see everything. She can look up and around freely in a way she couldn’t before. Fuck man, if I had magic lasik I’d probably go out more too.

Some other quirks that are really unclear whether it’s typical for Falin or chimera-influenced:

she enters rooms through windows, sometimes. And given the leaves in her hair, I think it’s reasonable to assume this is not the first floor 💀 But who knows! Maybe that’s not new for Falin.

She points out that Laios’s scent could deter monsters. Maybe she has enhanced smell. But again, it isn’t unreasonable to think this is something she would have said before. (I think even Chilchuck and Izutsumi, whose senses of smell are enhanced, can’t identify scents well. Kuro, however, can.)

VIOLENCE! But again, we’ve seen her beat shit with her staff before, and she also used to wield a flail. It IS a trait for red dragons to fight any large threat, so if anything, she’s got even better monster fighting instincts than before. I don't think this would carry over to people. Falin has always been better with people, and I'm personally not a fan of seeing her depicted as territorial or possessive. Marcille is already the possessive one, and didn't need dragon blood to be like that.

Ultimately, I don't think her dragon traits extend much farther beyond this. Especially when you consider How Little the dragon is represented as in her conscience.

it's not like it's a 50/50 split. She's like a person with a dragon ratatouille. I don't think she'd be able to make dragon noises. I don't think her body is built for that. I know there's like, a set list of tropey characteristics that are given to almost every non-human character in fiction. and sure that's FINE but they tend not to be especially personalized to the character, and tend to just be an excuse to write them OOC. Like, sure, dragons may have instincts regarding sleep habits, hunting, courting, raising young, etc etc, but so do humans! And we don't compulsively act on every instinctual whim we have. I don't see why it'd be any harder for her new dragon instincts.

If anything, I think she'd feel more affected by the fact that she has part of the demon in her.

I don't think Falin's in any sort of trouble. All the demon was was a way to communicate with people. Here, it's representing Falin's tether to the infinite realm, to mana itself. The winged lion no longer has the desire to consume anymore because, yknow, Laios has that now. This is very likely why she no longer needs to chant to cast magic.

But what else does this mean for her? She already had unusually high reserves of mana + an innate connection with spirits, but is her mana essentially limitless now? How would that affect her lifespan? I'm leaning towards, it wouldn't really?? But is she immune to mana sickness now? Is it more like her magic is just sort of amplified like it would be in a dungeon?

We can infer that having more mana doesn't increase your lifespan, because-- while elves and gnomes have both naturally high levels of mana and longer lifespans-- dwarves live longer but have lowest levels of mana of all.

So to answer your question! Maybe a little bit?? But I don't think she'd change a whole lot.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Eight o’clock.”

Will’s jaw drops. “What?” He leans sideways to make deliberate and intensive eye contact with Switzerland, who deliberately and intensively avoids it, pretending to be folding laundry. “No way! Cass, tell him no way!”

“Not my business,” says Switzerland, smiling, for some reason, at Will’s oppression. “Your curfew is Lee’s to handle, you know that.”

“Yeah, when I was ten! I’m sixteen! My curfew is not eight o’ fu —” he thinks better of himself, mindful of Lee’s twitching eye — “fudging clock!”

“Eight is a perfectly reasonable curfew for a sixteen year old. Especially if you’re going out with that —” Lee scoffs — “boy.”

“It’s just Nico!” Will cries, nearly braining a poor visitor with the force of his flailing arms. The visitor, after a moment of careful deliberation and several vague, pointed screeching noises from Will, chooses to pull the blood-soaked t-shirt acting as a bandage tighter over their arm and seek help elsewhere. Wise. When he fails, after several extended minutes of flailing, to extrapolate upon his undoubtedly most excellent argument, he repeats, “It’s just Nico!” And then adds, for good measure, “You like Nico!”

“He is a bad influence,” Lee insists, as if he did not cry for five days when Nico asked for his blessing to date Will. “He has too much freedom, you know, his father lets him run amuck like some harlot —”

Will screeches again, so high this time it is soundless, and must be restrained by Gabriel’s firm grip on his collar from mauling Lee like a bear. Lee, in an uncharacteristically smart move — Carter must be rubbing off on him — takes a delicate step back to avoid Will’s clawing fingers.

“—and has no respect for his elders. You’re going to end up bereft or in jail should you keep seeing him, Will, mark my words.”

Will bares his teeth. “If this is about the eyebrow piercing, you sack of shit, I swear to the gods —”

“He looks like a criminal!” Lee looks around the cabin as if anyone is going to agree with him. He is met, instead, with seven raised eyebrows and nine heavy, deep-seated sighs, but remains stubbornly undeterred. Delusional enough to miscredit the incredulity to Will rather than himself, likely. Truly Apollo’s pride.

“I am going to hunt you to death.”

“So long as you’re back by eight.”

Will deigns, instead of a verbal response, to scream, loud and long, and stomp his way away from the cabin and across the common.

“I’ll take that as compliance!” Lee calls out after him. The scream, somehow, increases in volume, not breaking even as seven people trip to remove themselves hastily from Will’s path. “If you are not back there will be consequences!”

“I hate you!”

“Be safe! I will be waiting up!

“I hope you pass away in your sleep!” A pause. “I don’t mean that, but fuck you!”

“Children,” Lee scoffs to himself, retreating back into the cabin. “No respect anymore.”

“You’re a loser,” Diana informs him.

“It’s those godsdamned iPods, is what it is.”

“Oh my gods.”

———

next

[lumiconic]

" even the sun is soft on the eyes "

✧ swimming with them at different times of day

✧ lyney, lynette, arlecchino ; fluff; it was supposed to have childe and freminent but i ran out of steam T.T

  lyney has a pyro vision, you know that; so his affinity for water must be nothing more than yet another magic trick. it doesn’t help that the golden sun, hanging high in the sky, practically blinds you with its light. when he flicks his hand and a spray from the river goes flying into your eyes, you consider dunking him if he likes it so much.

  “stop splashing me,” you protest, swatting him on the arm. “aren’t you supposed to be looking for rainbow lilies, or whatever?”

  “rainbow roses,” he corrects, wading through the river. his boots are on the bank and his pants are rolled up to his knees, but the vaguely expensive-looking fabric is already drenched, the stain spreading. he barely seems to notice, turning to you as he steps backward. “and if you aren’t gonna get in the water, then i’ll bring the water to – ”

  and then he’s gone with a massive splash, and you start laughing as you watch the flailing mass that’s his not-quite-able-to-swim self sink to the bottom of the river. and then you stop laughing and remember that oh yeah, he’s not quite able to swim. and then you start panicking and dive after him. 

  the water is freezing. it’s the hottest day you’ve had in ages but the deeper you swim, the colder it gets, goosebumps pricking up your arms that you’re barely able to see. you blink the blurriness from your eyes, chasing after lyney, who’s kicking furiously but still sinking with the weight of the heavy cape-thing trailing from his waistcoat. 

  he doesn’t look nervous or even slightly concerned yet. in truth, he could probably snap his fingers and magic himself back onto the riverbank. it’s ridiculous, but you can’t just swim away. at the very least, lynette would kill you. 

  he opens his mouth and a bunch of bubbles stream up towards the surface. his teeth gleam in the pale blue light. he seems to be able to see the scowl on your face, eyes crinkling; a school of gleaming silver fish whirls between you, and when it disappears, he’s on the bottom of the river, scraping into a gently waving anemone. 

  you want to shout what are you doing? but your voice won’t make any noise, much less travel to where he is, while in the water. you punch the water wildly, connecting with a fish exactly as lyney looks up. it squeals, darts away, and he looks at you like you’re a monster. you throw your hands up, floating in place for a moment, before paddling towards him again. 

  he’s still pawing through the fronds of a glowing mushroom-looking thing. you can see the shining blue powder collecting under his fingernails from where you are. he looks like he’s walking along the bottom, one hand clapped over his mouth and the other clenched on a rock to keep him anchored. you scoff, bubbles escaping your lips, and kick towards the bottom.

  “hey!” you hear him exclaim, though it’s more like a garbled shout than an actual word as you link one arm through his, tugging him away from the plants. this deep, it’s like you’ve plunged into a bathtub full of ice cubes. you have no idea how he’s dealing with the cold. “i’m – ”

  the rest of it is lost in bubbles as you brace your legs against the sandy floor, pushing downwards as hard as you can, and you go rocketing towards the sky. he makes some protesting noise, trying to wrestle out of your grip, but you hold on tightly. he would sink like a rock, and then you would have to fight him to come up again. you want to roll your eyes, but… you can’t force yourself to be annoyed. not really.

  you realize his vision is emanating heat. the longer he clings to your arm, the more warmth spreads through you. the river feels less like an ice cube, more like a hot spring. under his puffy sleeves, you can just barely feel his skin, as hot as a fire. if you held on for too long, you might get burned. 

  but right now, it’s okay. right here, when it’s just you and him.

  “i was doing fine,” is the first thing lyney says when his head breaks the surface. you let him go and swim a few feet away. he shakes droplets out of his hair, spraying in a circle; you can’t complain this time since you’re soaking wet too. it’s all you can do not to push him back under. “and i got a bunch of them!”

  “your sister would steal a gardemek and run me over if i just let you sink down there.” you glare at him, crossing your arms as you find a place to stand, feet barely scraping the underwater grass. “i’ve seriously had enough of you – how can you possibly live in fontaine and not know how to swim? and a bunch of what?”

  he digs in his coat, opening his mouth then closing it, a look of panic passing over his face. “w-wait – there’s no way i dropped it as i was coming up, right? after all that work?” he pats down his pockets, eyes going wide as plates. “i think i really did… oh, how could this happen! and i was so proud of myself, too.”

  despite yourself, your face softens. even if you’re annoyed, you have to feel bad at his rapidly mounting dismay. “what did you lose? i can go get it for you, if it’s that important.”

  his gaze whisks to you and you see the corner of his mouth turn up. he reaches towards you, scanning the water and the air around your face as you tilt your head up. “just – wait, i think i see it… aha!” he flicks the wet hair away from your temple and pulls a rainbow rose, shimmering and delicate, from behind your ear. “there it is.” 

  “you – ” you’re speechless, heat creeping up your neck. “where the hell… ”

  “a magician never reveals his secrets, etcetera etcetera.” lyney winks at you, peeling back his sleeve, and a whole pile of flowers falls into the water, bobbing there. the colors are iridescent, gleaming and fantastical. they looks like magic. though, maybe it’s not fair to compare them to magic, not when he’s right there.

  you search for words for a long moment. it’s harder than you would think, with his eyes on you. he shifts his weight forward, displacing the roses in the water. “... you know, you’re supposed to do that trick with a coin.”

  lyney clicks his tongue. “i thought you’d have figured out by now that i don’t do things the conventional way, my lovely.” the name makes your heart beat a bit faster. you swallow. he offers you the first rose and lifts his eyebrows. “go on, you can have it. put it in a vase and think of me whenever you see it.”

  “as if i need a reminder to think of you,” you mumble, taking it and rolling it between your hands. he seems not to hear you, humming as he turns, dragging the tips of his fingers through the surface. the petals are soft, yellow stamen dripping with a thick, sweet scented nectar. “but this is nice too, i guess.”

   you sit on the beach, gazing at lynette through your sunglasses as she skips through the grass a little while away. her boots don’t sink into the ground, moving like she’s lighter than air, despite the sun-softened, slightly damp earth; the tides washing up gently on the sand don’t seem to have any effect on it, either. or maybe she’s not really touching the ground at all. 

  she bends, scoops a glittering silver shell out of the water and pockets it. the water drips through the gauzy fabric of her leotard, and she twirls in place, skirt spinning out. water droplets spray in a circle, carrying through the air in a sudden breeze. she looks towards the horizon, seeming to watch the grass and trees sway in the wind.

  “hey,” you call out. “come here a second.” her ears twitch in your direction and she approaches you, tilting her head down. her hair blows gently back and forth, carrying the sweet scent of peaches and mint towards you, like a fragrant tea. you wouldn’t be surprised if that really was a flavor of tea she had been drinking earlier; you need to tell her sometimes to quit overdoing the caffeine. too often you’ve found her after midnight, reading with bags under her eyes and a teapot emptied ten times over.

  she sits down and you slide your sunglasses onto her head, pushing them down over her eyes. her tail twitches. “what are you doing?”

  “you shouldn’t look directly at the sun,” you admonish. “i know a boy who went out every day without glasses or anything and one day he went blind just like that.” you snap your fingers on the last word. her expression doesn’t change and she doesn’t make any noise, but you feel like you can feel an aura of disapproval radiating from her. you wilt, pouting at her. “huh, no reaction?”

  “you’re obviously lying,” she says plainly.  “i can tell from spending so much time around lyney.”

  “oh, of course,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. you get to your feet. “come on, we’re here, so why don’t we go in the water? you know a lot of tricks, so you should show me!” 

  you can’t quite see lynette’s eyes through the dark sunglasses, but she shifts her weight to one side, leaning on her hip and unbuckling her boots hesitantly. “... they’re nothing special, but if you really want to see, then i guess – ” 

  “great!” you cheer, pumping your fist and tugging her over the ground to the shallows by the arm. you can’t help but shiver at the sudden chill, but she barely looks bothered, moving like the water doesn’t even exist. her steps are light, sending pale gold sand billowing through the waves, and she whisks away from you in an instant as though she’s dancing.

  she reorients herself, facing a marble pillar edged in gold that sticks out of the water. in a matter of moments she’s submerged up to her chest, and your view of her lower body is distorted as she heads towards the pillar. you clap your hands delightedly, scanning the beach and then racing towards a nearby boat a couple feet from the shore. you scramble onto it, heaving your frame up and over the side to sit with your legs dangling into the lake.

  “go, lynette!” you shout, cupping your hand by your lips to project your voice towards her. she leans her head to the side and looks at you, bright purple eyes glinting as brightly as the inside of an iridescent clamshell. the side of her mouth ticks up in a half-smile. she has your sunglasses clasped in one gloved hand and tucks them into another unseen pocket as she propels herself to the pillar.

  the marble is wet and slippery and from where you’re sitting, you can’t see any cracks or bumps in the smoothly polished stone that could possibly allow her to have such a steady grip, but she climbs easily, scrambling up the side to prop her legs on the top. lynette stares out over the lake, over the city; she feels miles away, coils of hair fluttering around her face. she looks picturesque. she looks like a painting.

  in a heartbeat, she’s on her feet and raising her arms over her head. you’ve seen synchronized swimmers before, with their elegant movements and expensive costumes, and her silhouette against the sun isn’t so far from theirs; with her frilled leotard, gaze sharp as needles and hands reaching towards the sky, she could be one. just another one of her many talents.

  she leaps from the pillar, fingers stretched out before her, and you want to applaud. applaud before she’s even done anything. then again, being with her always feels like a performance. like a dance. here you are, barely a few meters away, and – her eyes are closed. she doesn’t see you as she plummets from the sky to the sea. it feels like there’s something between you, like if you held out your hand you would meet something solid. a wall. or a curtain. 

  there’s barely a splash as she plunges through the surface, tumbling into the water. she disappears in a mass of glittering white bubbles. you lose sight of her, and then she reappears, and you want to jump too, duck underwater to see her fully. to take in every bit of her. 

  her tail flicks behind her, hands pushing through the depths as she goes deeper, less like she’s sinking and more like she’s falling through a clear blue sky. her hair flutters like a bird soaring in the air. she looks so gorgeous, so graceful. someday she will flap her wings and fly away from you. you know that as well as you know anything. when the inevitable deadly winter comes – she will be gone.

  but not yet. you can still keep your eyes on her, floating in the water. you can cup this moment and keep it close to your heart until it’s all you have left.

  lynette surfaces, pushing wet hair out of her eyes, the platinum color darkened to silver. she looks exhilarated, cheeks filled with color, breaths coming fast for a moment before they slow down, returning to her usual impassivity. she looks at you, barely kicking to stay afloat. “... what’s with that look?” she asks, one eyebrow arching. 

  you blink, lean forward to see your reflection. it’s slightly distorted by the soft ripples, but you’re smiling, eyes sparkling. eyes wet. 

  “did something happen?” she asks. her tone is slightly laced with concern. it makes your throat tighten. “you look… emotional.” 

  you lift your head, brushing one hand over your face, avoiding her gaze. “just looking at something pretty,” you say, eyes on the horizon. “that’s all.” 

  arlecchino’s face is cold and stony as always, like her features have been carved out of porcelain, but you think maybe you can trick yourself into seeing a hint of affection in her dark eyes. at the very least, she hasn’t drowned you yet, though her hands have twitched a few times towards your throat when you splashed her “by accident”.

  “it’s so cold,” you complain, dragging your feet through waving strands of seaweed. “it feels like winter.”

  “i don’t feel anything,” arlecchino says, hands laced behind her back. her voice is even, unbothered by the temperature. her suit’s train trails through the surface of the water, silken cloth fading in and out of ice-white, bloodred and gleaming silver. she’s tired today, unable to muster any more words than what’s strictly necessary.

  you tilt your head, smiling wryly as you step towards her. “probably because you’re the reason it’s cold.” it’s true, though she only blinks slowly at the remark; the water cools several degrees around her waist. you’ve made remarks before that she resembles a statue when she stands still, and now is no different – rising out of the lake with the sun setting behind her, hair gleaming like snow. 

  “why are we here again?” she questions. her heels are caught in the murky sand. “we both know that i’m not a swimmer.” 

  “just wait for a bit, until night.” your arms are wrapped around yourself, but you still manage an excited smile, an i-know-something-you-don’t smile. you’re the only person who ever looks at her like that; she’d bite the head off anyone else who dared, but… she just inclines her head. “fine. after that, i’m going home.”

  “okay, okay.” 

  the time passes leisurely. you float on your back, showing arlecchino rocks and shells that you’ve plucked from the sand. she doesn’t respond beyond a nod to most of them, but your pockets grow heavy with the ones that receive an appreciative blink. you snatch up a hermit crab and place it in her hand; when it pinches her palm, she threatens to crush and eat it, prompting a cry of outrage from you.

  the sun slowly drifts below the horizon; golden bleeding to red, then to dark orange, then a sedated gradient of blue. wind whistles through the trees surrounding the lake, and the cries of birds grow quieter and quieter. this secluded pocket of fontaine – far away from the city, the aquabus and anyone who could interrupt you – is somewhere arlecchino has never been. somewhere you’ve been begging to show her for a while now. so far she’s seen nothing remarkable about it, and if it was anyone else, she’d go home, but…

  but.

  the sun is completely gone by now, and the sky is velvet black and speckled with stars. you’re shivering, the shoulders of your gauzy shirt soaked through as you bemoan your decision to wear such thin layers. her face is cold, her eyelids are drifting shut; exhausted from days and days of nonstop work. a thousand duties for the tenth harbinger. 

  and yet you want so badly to show her, whatever it is that you’ve been waiting all day for. so she can stay at least a moment longer.

  the sky dims a bit more, and you push yourself up and onto the riverbank. arlecchino follows a moment after, and as the water laps at her boots, it feels like a shadow passing over her. she tilts her head up and sees that a cloud has drifted past the moon, dimming its silver glow; the air is cold and crisp like a peppermint. you’re sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest. 

  she sits beside you feeling like a child awaiting instruction, legs stretched out in front of her, and looks up at the sky. there’s a few heartbeats where the sound of your breathing fills her ears, shivering and frosty puffs escaping your lips, and then you make a delighted noise. “look, look,” you say, pointing at the water. “it’s glowing.”

  arlecchino glances at you, blinking slowly as if you’re playing a trick on her. but your eyes are riveted to the scene below. she tilts her head, looking down at it, and sees the bright blue sparkles, glimmering in the water like a thousand stars, fallen down from the night sky to rest in the sea. her breath catches in her throat. the river glitters as though it’s filled with gems.

  “isn’t it amazing?” your fingers twitch, like you’re going to try and reach out, touch it. she inches her hand forward inconspicuously, ready to catch you if you lean just a bit too far. you’re not looking at her, transfixed. “it’s beautiful. it looks like a dream.” 

  she peers at it. the azure gleam reflects in her black eyes, the red x-shape of her pupils standing out like fire in a field of flowers. she reaches out, stretches as far as she can, brushes her long, sharp nails through the surface of the water; blue light blooms wherever she touches it. her lips curve up slightly, then press into a flat line again.

  “it’s… ” she stops and blinks fast. “it’s just algae. it’s science. plants. it’s not… a miracle, or anything. there’s no need to fawn over it like that.” 

  you pull your knees up to your chest, touch the top of her hand. her skin is cold, dry and without pores, no marks in her skin anywhere. smooth and empty. you trace the silver lines threading over her fingertips like veins. “even if it’s not magic, it can still be a miracle. you know that, right?”

  she lets you run your hand over her fingers for a moment longer, then pulls it away. “... maybe. but it’s nothing exceptional. it’s a plankton. we could come back here tomorrow night and see it again. it’ll never go anywhere.”

  “that doesn’t change anything,” you say. arlecchino can feel your gaze on her. she looks down into the water, sees the fish swimming through the luminescence, tries to ignore your eyes burning like flames into the side of her head. it’s too pleasant of a feeling to her, who doesn’t understand pain. “just because it’s always there doesn’t mean it’s any less beautiful. maybe that makes it more special.”

  “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she hums. “you’d probably appreciate it even more if it disappeared for a while.”

  “i don’t think so.” you lean into her, slowly, tentatively. she doesn’t push you away, tucking her hands into her pockets. you shift your attention back down to the sea, as if you’re speaking to it when you say, the radiance of the water illuminated in your irises, “i’d rather have you here with me.”

© lumiconic ; please reblog and follow if enjoyed

[revehae]

mirage

pairing ↠ siren!ningning × (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, scientist! reader, siren!ningning, fucking machine, kidnapping

summary ↠ after deceiving a naive siren, you decide to use her as a lab rat to prove your theories that other fellow scientists had ridiculed - and maybe use her for other, less than ethical experiments.

wc ↠ 2.4k

a/n ↠ part 2/5 of the legend has it series!

don't like it, don't read.

there was a moment, within the first couple of blinks, where the room reeled like the staggering motions of a ship on violent waters, and there was no way for ningning to tell what was up and what was down. then the haze started to dwindle, the fog started to lift, and everything became clear.

the first thing she noticed was the constant of unfamiliar noises resounding through the open room she’d roused to, shifting in the constricted space of the laboratory apparatus she was strapped to. your back was turned. you were facing a panel, closely monitoring her vitals.

“you’re awake,” you declared joyously, without the need to turn. “everything went smoothly. it couldn’t have been more perfect.”

ningning recognized you, though barely. it was all coming back to her. she was not like most others sirens, much less reputable for her generosity and impressionability. when she saw you, flailing around in the ocean where humans like you didn’t belong, she knew in her heart that she had to help you back to land.

that was what she endeavored to do at least, but beyond the memory of clutching your soaked arm, everything went black.

ningning’s eyes fluttered. she was shockingly lethargic. “what do you mean?”

“the experiment. it worked,” you explained vaguely, as if she was supposed to know what experiment you were referencing. you seemed so thrilled, off-puttingly so. “they said that my claims were pseudoscience. and then they said that even if sirens were real, the idea that there was a process where they could be transformed into man was a mirage.”

your rants sounded ludicrous, until ningning glanced down and saw that the glimmering scaled appendage, the one her whole identity was compromised of, was no longer attached. in its place, she had a pair of slender legs and an equal set of feet with little toes she couldn’t help but wriggle.

panic immediately settled in after the shock and she exclaimed, “what did you do?”

ignoring her, you continued, “i would’ve said it’s unbelievable, but that’s not true. i’ve always believed it. even when nobody else had faith.”

to say you were overjoyed would still be an understatement. for years your peers in the field had ridiculed and critiqued your theories. nobody believed in supernatural entities and given your lack of evidence, you had nothing to support yourself. other than your dedication to not only proving them wrong in the existence of the supernatural, but proving that mermaid-like creatures could be made human.

ningning started to squirm, frantic. she refused to accept the bitter reality; that everybody that warned her about the dangers of her supposed naïveté had been right. unlike her fellow sirens, she had always wanted to see the good in the other world. where her friends took pleasure in baiting humans to their untimely deaths, ningning was contented with being a hindrance.

“undo it. undo it, please,” ningning whimpered, delicate water trinkling in an unusual stream down her cheeks. “i need to go home.”

“you are home, honey. i’m afraid that unless i work out a formula to redevelop your tail, you won’t survive in the ocean,” you explained. “even then, i would have to replace you to continue my experiments. and you wouldn’t want too many subjects, would you?”

of course, it would only make your experiments more credible, but ningning was appalled at the thought of her friends being submitted to the same forceful stripping of their identities.

ningning shook her head, whispering, “no.”

“i thought so,” you said, though your tone was sweet nonetheless. “besides, i can’t cut you loose now. i have more tests to run.”

“tests?” ningning echoed weakly.

spookily enough, you said nothing, only giggling to yourself while you faced your panel again. there was something so ominous about you, about the whole atmosphere, and all ningning could do was close her eyes and sing quietly to self-regulate.

the true nature of a siren, you thought, but didn’t say. her voice was lovely, as alluring as you thought it would be. you couldn’t wait to milk those beautiful sounds of her in a more lewd, indecent way.

somehow, ningning didn’t even realize that she was completely naked until she felt your cool hands at her skin and her eyes snapped open. you were adjusting a machine between the pair of thighs she wasn’t supposed to have, and she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be comfortable with it or not.

wide-eyed, ningning asked, “what are you doing?”

“i told you, honey. i’m experimenting on you,” was all you said. 

for half a minute, you just stood there, lips tutted in contemplation and a befuddled expression on your face. then, in the next minute, you had her flipped over onto her hands and knees, readjusting the restraints around her limbs into taut knots. ningning cried out in shock all the while, more than confused about what you were up to, though she was silently praying to the sea gods for mercy.

“please,” ningning whispered, eyes glistening. 

setting the dildo part of the machine back in place, you gave a half-assed attempt at consoling, “don’t worry. if my hypothesis is correct, this will be quick.”

ningning hardly knew what you meant. she was no stranger to basic scientific terms, knowledge and science was not strictly a human concept, but you were so vague in your elaborations that she couldn’t help but wonder what all was at stake here. she couldn’t fathom why you were hunting merpeople or understand how you were aware of their existence.

without allowing her longer than a couple of seconds to think, the machine came to life, and ningning gasped loudly when it started to plunge where you’d set it between her thighs. it wasn’t a comfortable feeling. it felt foreign and strange and unexpected.

“hurts,” ningning whimpered.

“it won’t for long,” you replied offhandedly, a clipboard in your hands for charting data you were collecting. this bit of the trial was more personal. it wasn’t to prove yourself to other scientists, but self-indulgent research. 

never in ningning’s life had she ever felt anything close to this, and that made the feeling all the more inexplicable. there was an unorthodox fullness now, a warmth beginning to brew, developing in the pit of her exposed stomach and stretching out.

and then the feeling inside of her was so peculiar that it became pleasant. ningning couldn’t even be troubled with attempting to understand the logic behind it, because all she cared about now was this weirdly good sensation making her thighs shudder like nothing. her sounds were obviously like that of a siren, as bewitching and sweet-sounding as they could be, and it was making you dangerously wet.

ningning thought of it like singing, except she struggled to control the way her jaw slacked and those airy noises escaped her. it was almost like her mouth had a mind of its own, lips parting and her tongue birthing the gentlest of cries.

to say the least, you were amused. the machine was on its lowest potential setting and already she was a hot mess, unraveling like she never had before. granted, you had manufactured it all by yourself, deliberately choosing to make it sizeable and installing more than enough functions to keep it warm and vibrating, but it was entertaining nonetheless and you had a hidden camera recording every second of this experiment. for research purposes.

you needed to go back and review the content of the video, just to jot down any important details you might not have noticed. it didn’t really matter if you planned on getting off to the tape a couple of times, too, because this bit of the experiment was just for you. it was worth savoring every second.

you had a real motivation for this whole situation, no matter how laughable it might’ve seemed. it went beyond your fascination with the supernatural. not only did you want to know if it was possible to turn merpeople into humans, but if they could be human, or at least resemble humankind, you had long wondered if they could get off the way humans did. and at the same degree.

some people would call it a gross, taboo fetish. others would tell you to roleplay and get it out of your system, because there was no way in hell that mermaids roamed the same earth as humanity. but none of it discouraged you. you always knew you were right. and the beautiful girl in front of you, reacting astoundingly well to having her cunt fucked by a mere gadget, was living proof.

though you wouldn’t admit it to her face, you had been so tempted to touch her while she was unconscious, hardly able to resist the titillating allure of a siren. she had been out for a couple of days, which was more than enough time for you to transform her into a human. the only reason you resisted was because you wanted her awake, conscious reactions. it was important that she was alive and awake until the very end.

ningning’s face was tensed with pleasure, a kind you had learned to recognize in spite of the fact you’d never seen anything quite like it before. “oh my… fuck.”

you asked curiously, “how does it feel?”

“i… i don’t know. it feels weird. but i like it,” ningning stammered, breathy moans penetrating the air between her sentences.

that much you could tell, just from observing her. at one point, you forgot that you were supposed to be taking notes, too absorbed in the shine on her skin from the fresh layer of sweat on her back and the shape of her ass. the resounding wet squelch accompanying the repetitive noise from the machine’s activity as it slammed inside her pussy. you found yourself upping the setting, watching in real time how ningning’s head tilted with a light moan.

“it’s so big, oh my god, it’s so big,” ningning exclaimed, a tremor to her voice. “make it go faster - please.”

you cocked a brow. “you sure?”

all ningning could do was idiotically bob her head, sweet noises blocking all of her words. you were surprised to see her want so much so soon, but you weren’t going to deny her desperate request, and quickly pressed a button on the hovering panel beside you.

if you had to describe it, ningning was like an animal. you could see the wild, untamed need glistening in her eyes, pouring in the form of liquid. the tears dripping from eyes and the arousal seeping from her cunt. she didn’t even know why she wanted it so badly - she just knew that she did. 

hearing her talk about the size of the toy made you giggle. it was intended to stretch her open, maybe a little more than she was prepared for, but ningning seemed to be taking it like a champ. almost like it was made especially for her. she was borderline drooling all over the place, mouth hanging open and her eyes rolling back. the throbbing between your legs was becoming unignorable, though this wasn’t about you right now. proving a point was your priority.

ningning was gushing, tight walls kneading the hyper realistic dildo as if it were an actual cock. she couldn’t help but pulse around it, addicted to the quickening vibrations and the warmth shooting through her like sparks of electricity. if anything, she was lucky that it wasn’t real. had someone genuinely been fucking her, they would lack the self-restraint to treat her like the human you’d worked diligently for her to become.

realizing that you hadn’t touched her at all throughout the entire session, you set down the pen and clipboard that had fallen useless between your fingers and paraded right over to her, instead occupying your hands with her tits. you couldn’t help but pinch her nipples, twisting them here and there, much to ningning’s unmistakable delight.

she was just so responsive. every touch was met with the most euphoric of honey-like moans that made you want to rail her into the next century. not only did her body twitch and spasm with sensitivity, but her face was as expressive as it was beautiful. every feeling she felt was plain on her features and she lacked the ability to conceal her true emotions. ningning couldn’t lie and tell you that this wasn’t the most ecstatic moment of her life even if she wanted to.

“my stomach,” ningning trailed, words essentially becoming useless.

not that needed to speak, or even think at all. not when she was just your lab rat. you knew what she meant regardless, and it didn’t take your observation skills to know that she was just shy of climax, standing right at the brink. you wanted to see her let loose. for your own sake, you needed to know what it was like.

you kept touching her, careful to stand clear of the camera so that you wouldn’t obscure your own view later on, but just close enough to fondle with her body in a way that had her on the verge of melting into your palms. 

it wasn’t very long before you got exactly what you wanted. the device made short work of her, hitting her in all of the right spots, and you stepped back to gape in awe at how intense her orgasm was. it was more than the tears falling down from her eyes and the shrill scream that parted her lips, though that was a major part of it. it was more than her body convulsing involuntarily. it was a solid minute worth of undeniable bliss and pleasure so raw that she could hardly even feel for a good moment.

it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. 

ningning wanted to slump after orgasming, because as pleasurable as it was, it was also exhausting and clearly knocked the wind out of her. but the toy didn’t stop, and she didn’t notice the strange fluid dripping out of her until minutes later. because like hell you wouldn’t program an ejaculation feature into the machine.

“fantastic,” you chirped, more than proud of what you’d done. you were beaming with accomplishment. “we need a couple more runs and i’ll give you a break.”

ningning’s eyes, wide as they already were, largened as she pleased, “no more. i can’t take it. it’s too much.”

“shh,” you crooned, eyes glued to the device that had yet to stop thrusting in and out of her. or maybe the fake semen that was oozing out of her. “experiments don’t end with one trial, dear. welcome to my world.”

[wanderingblindly]

Could you maybe possibly write something for 30. As comfort for landoscar?

And mayhaps lando comforting Oscar? I feel like we rarely see that dynamic, typically it’s the other way around, it would be interesting to see it swapped!

ok hear me out, it's less so traditional comforting and more so.... teasingly comforting? Like Lando somehow being able to tell Oscar's distressed when no one else does, but he's high after his vegas crash (anyone remember those pictures? i do. perfection) prompt list

Illusion of Indifference

They can't wait much longer to start the debrief, if not solely because the strip will open back up eventually; Vegas will return to its normal circus, thankful that they don't have to think about Formula 1 for at least a few more months.

Oscar unlocks his phone, hidden under the table, and spares it a quick glance.

No texts.

The clock's just struck 1am. Not that time really matters much during the season – Oscar just goes where he's told, when he's told – but it's been a while since the race ended.

More notably, it's been a while since he's heard news on Lando. But he's fine, certainly. They would have told Oscar if he wasn't fine; they would have given him sad looks securely tucked behind carefully curated masks, they would have avoided his gaze. So he's fine. And therefore Oscar's fine.

Andrea is saying something that he tries his best to hear, pressing his finger into the table emphatically – driving the point home. It hadn't been a remarkable race from Oscar's end, though P10 is better than nothing. A point in his rookie season is a point in his rookie season, after all.

Oscar's lips turn down at the corners as he thinks about it, leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest.

Still no texts. The clock's struck 1:15am.

The door slams open loudly, bouncing back against it's hinges and crashing into the wall. Everyone in the room jumps, Oscar turns to look at the noise.

"Oops," Lando giggles, a vaguely apologetic-looking Jon popping up over his shoulder. "Soz guys, Jon's so slow." The words are a little slurred, but he's in one piece.

He's standing in the doorway on his own, drowning in an oversized jacket he probably nicked from a team member, and he's smiling. No bandages on his face – Oscar's eyes flick down – no casts on his arms. Nothing on his legs, no unevenness in his gate as he walks over –

"Oh Oscar," He sighs, a heavy, intoxicated hand slamming onto his shoulder; he kind of misses, hand awkwardly spanning a bit onto his neck. Lando smiles down at him, and Oscar realizes just how much pain medication they have him on; his pupils are massive, almost alarmingly so. "You were scared, mate?"

Oscar makes a noise, furrowing his brows. He'd been entirely calm, sitting patiently and waiting. Everyone would agree that he'd been handling it so –

Lando looks over at Andrea and holds a finger up to his lips, like he's about to share a secret. "Y'wanna know how y'can tell?"

The team watches on, a few of them giggling at Lando's slight sway, Jon moments away from burying his face in his hands.

"It's his heart," He starts, making some flailing motion with his free hand. "Goes all, bumpbumpbumpbump like frickin' crazy."

Oscar opens his mouth to defend himself, because how would Lando even know, but then he feels it – a slight shift in Lando's hands on his shoulder, definitely more on the side of his neck than not.

Oh.

"Ooooooh," Lando coos, leaning closer to inspect his face. "He's blushing, you guys!"

"That's enough, Lando," Jon finally pipes up, moving to put Oscar out of his racing-heart-burning-face misery.

"Just lemme," Lando grins – a little crooked – and leans even closer; Oscar, borderline hypnotized by the thin ring of his irises, the flutter of his tired eyes, can't even move. Without hesitation, Lando presses his lips to Oscar's forehead – soft and warm and, much to Oscar's horror, butterfly-inducing. "All better, yeah?" Lando laughs, finally letting himself be pulled back by Jon.

"Uh," Oscar says ineloquently, looking over at his team for some sort of direction. They all stare back, hiding smiles and chuckles behind their hands.

"Want Kim to check your heart rate, Oscar?" Andrea asks, earning a fresh peal of laughter from Lando – finally sat in a chair on the opposite side of the table.

[whump-in-the-closet]

💊 for the medical prompt ask game!

- @another-whump-sideblog

Forced to swallow pills

thanks for the ask!

cw: misuse of the medical practice, medical whump, noncon drugging, implied pet whump?, absolute fuckwit of a Whumper, implied torture, implied captivity, whumpee is in their late teens but called "kiddo"

Whumper talked with the doctor like she was an old friend, one hand clamped over Whumpee's shoulder.

Whumpee didn't know despair felt like nausea. They swayed on their feet, colors blurring. They knew that under the frigid, fluorescent light of the doctor's office, they looked like shit.

Powerless.

Miserable.

Hair too long and clothes too big, clearly borrowed. They weren't wearing shoes and stood in their socks, wiggling their toes on the tiles.

"Whumpee," Whumper smiled their name, one thumb tracing their cheek.

Whumpee snapped out of it. "Huh?"

Whumper's expression darkened and his grip tightened on their face, squeezing their chin.

Wrong answer.

"Sorry--" Whumpee choked. "Sir, sorry!"

Whumper's grip relaxed and he moved to place a hand on the small of Whumpee's back.

Whumpee stiffened when he pressed down on the fresh wounds. "I said sorry!" The defiance was a spluttering flame, dying out every second it was exposed to the light. It was quickly replaced with terror-- synonymous with Whumper's smile.

But Whumper was talking again, guiding them to the small bed. "See," he said to the doctor. "I can have them ready for service within a week, but..."

The doctor shrugged "It's a tight schedule." She looked from Whumpee, who sat on the edge of the bed, to Whumper. Sighed. "After this, don't bring any more of your strays in here."

Whumper chuckled, and it was a dangerous sound.

Whumpee flinched without meaning too.

The doctor frowned. "I mean it."

"Sure, sweetheart."

The doctor ignored him and started writing down notes on her clipboard. She rifled through her cupboards before pulling out an orange, unnamed bottle from the back. With tired movements, tapped two pills into the palm of her hand.

She crouched next to Whumpee with the pills and a glass of water. "Hey, kiddo." Her voice was kinder than they expected. Calming, like the sound of the ocean in a seashell.

"H--hey."

"You're going to be okay," said the doctor.

They looked up.

Her eyes were brown and exhausted, holding a weight to them that Whumpee didn't quite understand. "Really?" They wanted to believe her.

They wanted to believe her so badly. They were ready to cling on to any comfort, any hope thrown at them.

The doctor dropped her gaze. "No," she whispered, the word escaping without her meaning for it to.

Whumpee shrank back.

"But you should take these." She offered the pills.

The nausea became stronger. Whumpee tried to push them away, shaking their head. "No! I'm not-- I don't want--"

It was no use.

Whumper grabbed their wrists, pinning them behind their back with minimal effort. He nodded to the doctor, impatience edging its way into his voice. "Get on with it. I don't have all night."

The doctor refused to meet Whumpee's eyes as she pinched their nose shut.

It was a brief struggle.

Flailing limbs and black in the corners of their vision.

The pills swallowed.

Whumpee gagged. And gagged again.

Whumper released them, and they doubled over coughing. If they cried, they didn't realize it. They were trembling, limbs hardly their own.

Nothing was their own.

Nothing.

They dry heaved.

Whumper ruffled their hair and picked them up. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Whumpee's vision slid into shadows and vague shapes. The corners became fogged over and the sudden sensation of being lifted filled their head with white noise-- like the sound of the ocean distorted through a sea shell.

[neonpaperlanterns]

Could I request a two parts of dog day (with legs) x reader?

For the first part it’s just fluff to heavy angst.

The second part is heavy angst to fluff.

The plot for the first one, dog day and the reader are with poppy and kissy Missy, while searching the school for supplies. Catnap ambushes them and starts chasing them. He splits up dogday and the reader and while they fight the reader gets kidnapped…

Also Catnap taught as dog day the whole time and tricks him with poppy gas making him believe everything’s okay. When in reality he lost.

Star Gazing

[Part two]

Pulling open drawers you riffled through loose papers and broken pencils. Holding in a sigh you moved onto the next cabinet. More bits and bobs that had long lost their usefulness stared you in the face. 

“How’s the scrounging going?” You did not hold back your sigh this time and let your head gently thunk on the rusted metal of the cabinet.

“That bad?” You heard DogDay muse as he wandered up behind you. In response you flail your arms around. A low laugh leaves him and you turn your head enough to glare at him. There is no heat behind it though, you don’t want to discourage him. The sound of DogDay and Poppy laughing along with the sight of Kissy’s little shoulder shakes is something you deeply treasure.

“Has your luck been better than mine?” You’re hopeful because you know that the school can’t possibly be picked clean. It had been closed off for ten years, something still had to be here. Hidden away in an attempt to preserve it. 

“It has. Come on, let me show you.” DogDay was smiling, he always was, but you knew when it reached his eyes it was genuine.

“Oh? What did you find?” An eyebrow raised as he led you towards one of the classrooms you hadn’t checked yet. 

“It’s a surprise.” That had you intrigued along with the faint giggling you heard through the closed door. Suddenly you were feeling rather giddy. What could they have possibly found that made all of them so excited? 

“Okay, close your eyes.” You did as you were told. Hearing the door creak open you felt your foot tapping in anticipation. Hands were being placed on your shoulders as you were guided through the doorway.

“Alright, you can open them.” Your eyes flung open as you took in the room. Standing in the center was a fort of sorts. Made up of various cabinets, desks, and stray blankets. You could see bits of soft yellow light shining through and the vague shadows of Kissy. 

“Follow me, I’ll show you inside.” You watched as DogDay crouched down, his shoulders hunching slightly as he crawled through a gap in the fort. Doing as you were told again you followed after him, being mindful of the rough concrete and various sharp points on the ground. 

“You’re here!” Small cool porcelain hands grabbed at your sleeve as Poppy tried to help you further into their constructed abode. You watched as she bounced on the balls of her feet. 

“What do you think?” Her big blue eyes looked up at you expectantly. Letting your gaze wander over the faded blankets, rusted desks, and torn pillows you could feel your heart starting to swell. 

“It’s wonderful.” You felt the need to speak softly as you stared at the scene in front of you. Poppy let out a small cheer as she scurried over to a stack of meticulously placed pillows. Kissy was draped over half of the fort, her limbs looped around protruding bars that were cushioned with various bits of cloth. She looked content and maybe a tad sleepy. 

“Get comfortable. There’s more.” DogDay fluffed a pillow as he beckoned you over. Warm excitement bloomed in your stomach as you shucked off the grabpack. Settling down next to him you opted to use his stomach as the resting place for your head. 

“Turn it on, turn it on.” Poppy chanted from atop her throne of cushions. You felt more than heard DogDay laugh. There was a click and the fort was plunged into darkness but then you heard a faint whirring noise. Glancing towards the center you aren’t sure how you didn’t notice the little contraption before. It was giving off a faint bluish glow and then there was a tap to your shoulder. Looking over you see that DogDay was pointing upward. Following his hand you let out a small laugh.

Above you were swirling faint stars. 

They twirled in a sporadic pattern, the light was dim, and you could hear a static filled tune slipping out of old speakers. Even as distorted as it all was you couldn’t help but feel contentment settle over you. Sinking further into DogDay you let this moment wash over you.

“What do ya think?” The giant dog asked.

“I love it.” You stated as you continued to watch the spinning stars. A large hand came to rest around your stomach. 

“Do you think we’ll ever get to see real stars?” Poppy’s small voice sounded from somewhere in the dark. Her tone was melancholic and it made something in your chest clench.

“Yes.” You stated, putting as much conviction behind your statement as possible. “When this is all over and we get out of here I’ll take us stargazing.” You swore.

“Really?” Two voices asked in unison as a mittened hand wrapped around your leg. 

  “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” and you would. When all of you got out of here you would take them as far away and open as possible. That was a promise.

Everything fell silent as all of you stared at the projection. The arms around you tightened. A soft protest came from Poppy as you heard her get down from her pillow seat. 

And just as she was about to join in what had turned into a cuddle pile the center of the fort came crashing down. 

Dust and wood splinters rained down on you. The sound of Kissy shrieking shook the room as the scent of rotting poppies began to infect the air. Scrambling for your mask you come to the horrifying realization that the mask is attached to the grabpack. Which is not on you right now. Smacking a hand over your mouth you tried to hold your breath. Legs trapped in a tangle of blankets and broken desks you struggled. Your lungs began to burn.

“Get out of here!” DogDay shouts as he also fights against the ruined fort. 

A low rumbling laugh resonated through the room. It slithered through your ears and made your bones ache. Then something was wrapping around your arm and yanking. It tore you from DogDay and for a moment you thought it was Kissy. 

But as the faint glow of quizzical white eyes stared at you, any relief you felt vanished. Catnap brought you up to his face. So close that you could see the little scars that were littered around his eternal smile.

“I cannot see the stars, so none of you ever will.”

[betterfettered]

Hello hello we'll be back to our regularly scheduled obey me programming soon but I'm so down bad for blade from honkai star rail right now so I wrote a real quick little thingy about him.

Your yandere kidnaps you

(Gn!reader x AMAB!yandere, please let me know if reader is gendered)(noncon)(violence against reader)(kidnapping)(forced affection)(masc rage)(plus size reader 💖🫡)(18+ readers only please, mdni)(Please let me know if I am missing a TW)

Part 2

[This is fetish content and rape and abuse are disgusting and inexcusable in real life.]

You thought your master’s bondman was not just cute, but also harmlessly so. “Blade”, he called himself, which you thought was so melodramatic that you could not help but smile whenever you happened to see him. On greeting him, you bent your knee and lowered your face as a maid ought to, but surreptitiously peeked at him from beneath your fringe and pressed your lips together to hide a laugh at the stilted way it made him hold himself, the apathy in his expression stirred up into a vague discomfort. For all the chagrin his name heralded, you could not help but see an awkward man who liked heaps of sugar and a touch of salt in his tea, one who would nudge your arm with his knuckles before demanding in monotone that you reaffix his barrette and shivering when your hands brushed his scalp. A hissy cat, a moody kid with overgrown bangs – you were fond of him, and nowhere near as scared as you should have been.

In fact, that lack of fear made it hard to understand what was happening when he first locked you away. His expression not budging out of its typical hollowness, he simply wrapped his hand around your arm and began to lead you; you followed, as a servant did, through halls and down many stairs. You didn’t question it when he led you to a part of the compound you had never been to until a door shut behind you, hard, and you turned in time to watch him slide a bar into place to lock it. When he faced you again, it was to glare down his nose at you with his typical emptiness, this time with more intensity than you were used to.

There was a brief pause, then he raised his hand to your cheek, letting his fingertips ghost just above your skin until you raised your own hand to push his away.

“I o-ought to be going,” you said, taking a step back. “I’ve plenty of work to do.”

That was not the right answer. This time he seized your wrist, hard enough to make you hiss a little, and dragged you further through the hall you had been sealed in. It was hard to focus with your heart pounding so hard, but you tried to scan your surroundings to see where you were and only recognized that you were somewhere dark, poorly lit by dim bulbs and no windows, with his feet leaving prints in the dust telling you that no one had been down here for quite some time in a way that makes your stomach drop, because you have a bad feeling about anything he could need privacy for–

Your fears were validated as he pulled you into a tiny room, some defunct servant’s quarters you’d imagine, containing nothing but a small bed covered in threadbare sheets and a rickety nightstand. Panic overwhelmed you, and you immediately began to struggle against him like mad, your chest seizing up so hard that it took you a while to realize that that loud noise you could hear was you screaming, apologizing, promising to do anything else that he wanted if he just let you leave.

He had been uncomfortable trying to approach you gently, unsure how to do it with his hands reforged specifically for killing and only killing. Subjugation, however, was his only nature, and once you began to act like prey, he allowed his instincts to take over. The nails of your flailing hand caught his face but seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever; he wrenched you forward by your arm hard enough that you stumbled and then kicked your feet out from beneath you while still holding your arm so that he could press you onto your back as you fell. It was relatively easy to pin you after he did that, and he did so by planting his knee downwards into the soft flab of your stomach, driving it in a little deeper when you tried to squirm away and loosing a knife from his belt to remove your clothing with.

He fucked you like a punishment, pushing into you with no foreplay and holding you down by both of your wrists as he thrusted into you hard enough to make your fat thighs clap against his skin. He watched you rather emotionlessly, unmoved by the tears pouring from your eyes and down your temples into your hairline or the whimpers that occasionally escaped your lips despite how hard you were pressing them together. Wracked with pain and with humiliation at your body suddenly being so exposed and shock at how things had turned bad so quickly, how you were suddenly being pinned under him like this used like some disposable toy, you looked just beyond the side of his head and traced cracks in the ceiling while you waited for him to finish. The room had been quiet but for the hoarse creaking of the bed, so you were surprised when you suddenly heard a grunt from him: he freed one of your wrists to bring the back of his hand to his blushing face, covering his mouth as he finished, his eyes growing distant as he stared down at you and his cock pulsating inside of you, making you feel sick.

You expected him to fix his clothes and leave you there, back to his same nonplussed demeanor, but instead he continued watching you the moment that he came back to his senses. As though that would make him vanish, you squeezed your eyes shut and only felt what happened next. He grabbed hold of the bottom of your face with his horribly cold hands, the bandage wrapped around it feeling clammy with his sweat, and then his lips pressed onto yours and his fringe tickled your forehead. You recoiled in shock and disgust, retreating backwards into the mattress and turning your face away from him, wiping your mouth before you could stop yourself. You flinched, expecting to feel the bruising of his hands roughly handling you again, but instead he lied down on you a little gently, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Wrap your arms around me,” he commanded.

It took you a second, but eventually you complied.

“Now say that you love me.”

“I--… I can’t,” you whispered back.

“You will. Say it.”

It took a long time for you to finally comply, and to his credit he waited in your embrace without moving as he awaited you saying it; eventually, your disgust was outweighed by your worry that he would never pull out of you and leave if you did not obey, so eventually you did finally whisper it into his hair, tears welling up in your voice as you pried the words from your throat.

After what felt like an eternity, he eventually left, but you were not allowed to because he locked the door from the outside when he went. In fact, you were kept in that tiny room so long that you lost track of time. You tried to measure your days by the showers you took in the adjoined bathroom, or the times you’d get hungry and eat some of the food you’d been left the day before, but you could not stop the time from blending together into slop no matter what you did.

It was easiest to measure time in when he suddenly reappeared to see you.

The first few days, upon just the sound of him unlocking the door keeping you shut in here, you would shake uncontrollably and fix your eyes to the ground. Once he entered, you tried to put as much distance between him and you that you could, though that was only a few steps or so. That ruined feeling, the unfamiliar slickness and soreness between your legs would rush back over you in memory and you’d feel overwhelmed to the point of dizziness, your trembling jaw barely able to form “please don’t” as he stared you down impassively. The second or third time you did this, he lost patience with it and dragged you kicking and screaming back over to the bed, but this time he only lied down beside you and rested his head on your chest, then demanding the same two things: to put your arms around him and say that you love him. You obeyed, sobbing, but sooner rather than later you got used to your new routine and became proficient, or comfortable even, in the new ritual of greeting him.

“Welcome back,” you’d tell him when he entered, going over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying him back and forth. Then you’d say you missed him or you were thinking of him or you were happy to see him. You started to wonder if that was actually true: he was your only human interaction, and after (what felt like) a few weeks you felt almost excited to see him, especially when he bought you things you requested, like wine and puzzles and lube and books. You felt like you could kiss him when he brought you a video game from his companion, though he seemed not to be sure what it was.

Well, more like you could kiss him and want to, because you often kissed him, actually. After greeting him you often led him, still emotionless as he always was, over to the bed where the two of you would lie down in the same position, his head on your chest and your arms around him. When you could stomach it, you’d roll over onto him and press your lips to his and moan into his mouth and grind on him, doing your very best to arouse him. Your hope was that if you preempted his lust with seduction of your own, maybe the sex would be easier, maybe you would have fewer nightmares that woke you up screaming. Strangely, your success with this strategy was variable: often times, he allowed your ministrations and then let you ride him until he came, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise while his other hand covered part of his face. Other times, he seemed to grow overwhelmed with your affections, flipped you back over and rested his head on you again, burying his reddened face into your chest so you could only see the top of his head. You’d be confused, not sure what to do, and he’d quietly command you to do the same thing he always did: wrap your arms around him and tell him you love him.

Still, no matter what you did, you could not escape that often he wanted to hurt you. You could predict it based on how much blood he was covered in when he visited you or how he seemed to bristle away from your touch, but most reliably he was in this violent mood when he woke up from nightmares of his own, seemingly gripped with unwavering rage that drove him to want to destroy, whether that be furniture or himself or you. If you were unlucky and he went for you first, you’d be awoken by him striking you, hitting your face or dragging you by your hair or roughly tearing your clothes from your body. You learned better than fighting back quickly, as that only made him angrier, and so you just tried to shield your face and go somewhere else in your mind until it was over. Sometimes he’d fuck you dry, hard enough that you bled a little after, other times he’d hit you all over your body until it hurt to move, other times still he’d twist your arms painfully behind your back, lean into your ear, and tell you exactly how he was going to kill you in gruesome detail that made you want to vomit. He only seemed satisfied when your tears had run out and you stopped moving, overwhelmed by pain and despair, and then the room would fall into silence but for the sound of his panting, slowing breath.

After these rages were the only times he’d hold you and tell you that he loved you in a way you knew was meant to be comforting but only sounded flat and disturbed.

Eventually, he let you go (later you learned that it had been around two and a half months after you’d been captured). It was unceremonious – he simply left one day and did not shut the door behind him. It took you nearly an hour to summon the courage to leave, as you could not help but fear that this was some sort of trap, that he’d be waiting just beyond the threshold to punish you if you left. In the end, though, it was not, and after some walking you found yourself back in a central corridor of the compound with business as usual happening around you. It was hard to comprehend how other people were talking, laughing, cleaning, working without bone deep, paranoid fear strangling them. You’d dreamed of your freedom for a long time, of the relief you’d feel to be out of his clutches, but there was no relief to be had.

You could not sleep with any semblance of normalcy after getting out, so you often lied awake at night and wondered why he had gotten rid of you. Had he grown tired of you, bored? Had he moved on to someone else? Had he seen that there was something within you that he had irreparably broken that made you not worth using any more? Part of you worried about this so endlessly because if he was angry that you failed him, you needed to figure that out so you could prepare for him to return in one of his rages.

But another part of you, one that you could not bear to acknowledge, had grown used to making him and his comfort the center of your universe, and now felt lost without him. You wished that he had just kept you until you died.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 9

⚠️ Trigger Warning for whump and angst.

🧡💙🩵

John brought the space elevator to a smooth halt just above the caldera.

He wanted to get a birds-eye view of One before he touched down.

The elevator door opened, and the astronaut made a conscious effort to coordinate his limbs; the additional gravity about as welcome as a new Fischler Enterprise venture.

John cracked his joints.

"Alright. Time to fly."

The astronaut leapt from the elevator and his jetpack deployed.

*. *. *.

Kayo flailed midair.

There was no time to think, only feel.

Her stomach seemed to drop faster than terminal velocity.

Darkness was swallowing her as light flew from view.

A hand grasped her wrist.

"Kayo. Glad I caught you!"

"John!" Kayo gave an incredulous half-laugh.

"Am I glad to see you!"

"Hold on..."

John guided the two of them back to the relative safety of the poolside.

As soon as his boots touched the ground, Kayo wrapped her brother in a Virgil-esque hug.

"K-ay!"

Kayo indulged herself the human contact a moment longer, before the sound of a jet engine could be heard approaching the island.

"Protocol Phoenix."

John had practically exhaled the words. Relief and disbelief was etched in his features, as though he had forgotten that he himself had summoned them.

"Here. Help Scott."

John shed his jetpack and ran to meet the carrier approaching the beach.

With feline accuracy, Kayo caught the pack.

Hold on Scott, I'm coming.

*. *. *

"Scott? Scott? You with me?"

Scott stirred, his brain registering the noise, but not the name.

"Scott, it's Kayo. Come on, sleepy head, no snoozing on the job. Can you open your eyes for me?"

A muted moan rattled around his ribcage.

His head hurt.

He was vaguely aware of his eyelashes flickering. Jeez...the last time his head felt this bad, he'd sampled some of Gordon's homemade moonshine. The memory curdled his stomach and he whimpered.

"You're okay. You're okay. I'm with you."

Kayo's slender fingers were resting on his face...on grazed cheekbones. It didn't hurt, not really. Not compared to the other injuries his body sported; but there was something in the sensation that registered as uncomfortable; an invasion of personal space that had him pulling away from her touch.

"Scott, try not to move for me, okay? It's very important that we keep your neck and head still."

His eyes finally opened.

"There you are."

Kayo offered him a warm smile. A smile saturated in love and reassurance. A smile that told him that he was going to be okay.

"-ay?"

Eurgh, his mouth was dry.

"I've been called worse," her expression shrugged, but her hands remained steady.

"Head."

It hurt. He still didn't know why. Where were they? Building collapse?

"You've been in an accident."

"Air?"

"Air?" Kayo parroted.

"I'm not sure I follow. Your oxygen stats look good... Or do you mean you were flying in the air?"

"Wh-w-where?"

His lungs felt like they were out of sync from the other muscles it took to breathe.

"Oh! You're home Scott. Well, the pool...kinda."

Scott blinked at her.

"Not your finest landing."

Landing.

Like a circuit finally completed, the jigsaw fell in place.

He'd been fixing One's overhead locker when the call came in.

Some pot-holers had managed to get themselves wedged in a remote location and needed assistance.

Gordon and Alan were already out in Four, and Virgil was off rota, so; One was required to safely extract the group.

His mind had switched to rescue mode. Muscle memory fulfilling the required procedures to launch his Bird. Truth be told, he couldn't remember stashing the Toolbox he was using in the very locker he had been fixing, but his head injury attested to the fact that he had.

The mission proved to be a straightforward one. Honestly, the GDF could have taken it; but given the limited information they had to go on, they weren't to know.

With no visible injuries and paramedics having arrived on scene; Scott fired One, and headed home. It wasn't until she made the switch to horizontal flight that the toolbox had shifted. In any other locker it would have been fine, but...stupid is as stupid does. He'd shoved it in the faulty one.

...which promptly opened.

...allowing the contents to rain down on top of him.

Judging on colour alone; the wrench was the offending item that had clipped him. The grease rags had mercifully missed.

What happened next was all a bit of a blur.

All he could really remember was wanting to make it home to Virgil.

"Vir-gil?"

"We'll get to Virgil. Right now, you're my priority."

"Pri-rity?"

"Yes. John and the rest of Phoenix are heading to him now."

Scott felt his veins turn to ice.

"No, no, no... Virg-l!"

Kayo's hands were fussing around him.

He pushed the aid away. This was his fault.

He did this.

Kayo attempted to thwart his thrashing.

"Geroff me and help Vir-"

"Sco-"

"VIRGIL!"

"-Shut the hell up Scott and listen!"

Two cat-green eyes pinned him.

"One is compromised. You not listening endangers us both, get it? I'm not leaving you, so either you let me do my job, or we both die here."

Scott's brain cowered. She meant every word. Kayo, like the rest of them, was loyal to a fault. She wouldn't leave him.

Sensing his outburst had passed; Kayo began fastening the foam blocks around his head.

She was staring him dead in the face.

"Help is coming."

Now he understood. First responders make for the worst patients. Best he could do was to trust her.

"Okay."

"Good."

Kayo exhaled slowly.

“John's activated Protocol Phoenix. The carrier has already arrived and John's gone to meet them.”

Scott blinked groggily. If Protocol Phoenix had been activated, then this was an even bigger fuck-up than he'd first thought.

“Phoe-nix?”

“Yes Scott. We rise from the ashes.”

"God, that's cheesy."

"Attaboy. Now let's get out of here."

[plusultraetc]

final(s) straw

Ironically, none of Nemuri's friends sleep like normal people.

At 12:47 am, Nemuri lets her head fall to the table.

“I hate finals week.”

Across from her, Yamada makes a sympathetic noise. “Why don’t they tell you when you assign a paper that you’re going to have to grade the papers after?”

“Exactly.” She points in his general direction without lifting her head. “I’m so glad someone finally knows my pain.”

It’s not even Friday, is the thing. If it was Friday-technically-Saturday, Nemuri could hike up her big girl pants and get this done, but it’s Thursday-technically-Friday and she has to proctor two exams tomorrow and so all she has to hike up are her most luxurious pink pajama bottoms and even they aren’t really making her feel any better.

She has patrol on Friday evenings. She is going to cry. 

“I’m going to sleep all weekend,” she says, half-affirmation, half-promise.

Yamada makes another note in the margin of the paper he’s grading. It joins a sea of its crimson brethren. “I’m not.”

“Oh, shit, nooo.” She reaches across the table and makes grabby hands until he surrenders one of his own. “Quit your job.”

“Which one?”

“Not this one. You can’t leave me here.”

“You brought me here.”

Nemuri hums with her cheek pressed to the top of tonight’s lowest-scoring final. “Like a mother bringing a child into this world of suffering.”

“Kayama, what?”

She pats his hand delicately and then digs her nails in with one final squeeze. Yamada yelps and jolts away. The dishes rattle warningly in her kitchen cabinets.

“I hope that woke you up, because it did jack shit for me,” she grumbles, pushing herself upright. Yamada shoots her a petulant look, shaking his abused hand loosely.

“If you’re really that tired, take a nap. I’ll wake you in a little bit.”

“Yamada, sweetie, if I take a nap right now there won’t be a force on earth that could wake me.”

“You could sleep on the floor.”

Nemuri blinks at him as he returns his attention to his paper. “Like, on a futon?”

“No. Like on the floor. That way, you can’t get too comfortable, and it’ll be easier to wake up.”

“What?”

He glances up at her. “What do you mean, ‘what?’ I did that all the time in high school.”

He did… what? Floor naps? He did floor naps in high school? Yamada was a year behind her at UA, but she has the vague recollection that he always had really good grades. Like, really good. Like pull an all-nighter, study until your eyes are burning, and then nap on the floor instead of going to bed so you can keep studying good.

“Yamada, what?”

“Why do you keep saying that!”

Nemuri flails. “Floor naps!?”

“They’re effective!”

“They’re ridiculous! That’s something a ridiculous person does!” She would know, and so would he, because their mutual ridiculous person does pretty much exactly that thing. Nemuri reaches across the table and Yamada, beautiful fool that he is, lets her grab his hand again. “If I had known you were taking floor naps in high school, I would have intervened much sooner. I would have made it my personal mission to tank your GPA in the name of sleep.” A horrible thought occurs to her. “Wait, do you still do that now? Do you just curl up on the floor at the station next to your recording equipment and sleep for half an hour?”

Yamada rolls his eyes. “Who do I look like, Aizawa? Of course not!” He pauses. “And half an hour is too long. No matter how uncomfortable you are, you will fall totally asleep after half an hour. Fifteen to twenty minutes is ideal.”

“Oh my god.”

“And you don’t take floor naps in public. You take them in the privacy of your own home where you can lose control of your life but no one is around to see it.”

“Oh my god. I’m getting you professional help.”

“For what? I don’t even do that anymore. I don’t have time to nap.” He waves a marked-up essay at her. “I have three jobs.”

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of Not-So-Secret Secret Admirer!!! Part One. Part Two. AO3 Link.

Eddie doesn’t know what to get Steve next. Well, he knows what he wants to give Steve, but he’s pretty sure a mixtape would be a dead giveaway. But it’s four days after the second gift, and he needs one for tomorrow. 

He groans and flops down on his bed. What’s vague enough that doesn’t scream Eddie Munson is your fake secret admirer? He could get cupcakes or something, but that’s kind of dumb and not personal enough. Plus, he wants to see Steve get flustered again. It feels nice to know that he can do that to Steve Harrington. 

Because it’s Steve, and he doesn’t seem easily wooed, as he’s always the one doing the wooing. Eddie is glad to be giving Steve a break for once because he’s a great friend. A great friend who happens to get butterflies when he sees his other friend get giddy from his anonymous gifts. 

Eddie flails his arm out to grab his pillow and scream into it – instead, he hits his bedside table and hears a large clattering noise. The universe is against him tonight. 

Eddie groans and rolls to the side of his mattress to check if anything important fell besides his deodorant. He sees a few abandoned hair ties and an empty soda can but nothing of value. Until he’s slightly blinded by a gleam of silver. 

He reaches out and grabs the small object, fingers wrapping around the cool metal. It’s the ring he keeps on his nightstand, far too large for any of his fingers but also with a simple design carved into the metal that is almost too pretty for Eddie to be putting it on a chain to wear around his neck. 

It’s not anything too sentimental besides the fact that Eddie has had it for years now after spotting it at some yard sale and immediately swiping it – blame his father for teaching him that trick. He stares at it for the first time in a long time fully taking it in. He has the absurd thought that it would look pretty on Steve. 

It would look pretty on Steve. He’s scared he’d hate it and wear it only when Eddie is around to see it. But if it’s from his secret admirer, Eddie doesn’t have to worry about Steve’s politeness. He laughs and clutches the ring to his chest thinking of a cheesy note to write Steve as he drifts off. 

-:-:-:-:-:- 

He parks in the parking lot, ring in a small cardboard box with a horribly wrapped bow on top trapping a note underneath it. Every five days is a nice schedule, but maybe he should add some variation in it. But there’s no way that Steve is going to guess today is the day after only two gifts. 

At least, that’s what he thinks until Eddie sets the box on the top of Steve’s tire and hears someone yell, “Eddie! You’re Steve’s secret admirer?!” Dustin of all people pops out from behind the corner of the store. 

“Dustin... this isn’t what you think...” 

Dustin runs up to him and grabs him by the arm. “I’ve been waiting out here for days for some girl, and it’s just been you! Are you kidding me?” Eddie finds that Dustin is a lot stronger than he thinks as he drags him inside the store and yells, “Steve! I found your secret admirer!” 

Steve and Robin whip their heads around. Robin’s eyes go wide, and Steve’s eyebrows pinch together. “Well, where is she?” Steve questions.  

“Nu uh uh. Where is he?” Dustin corrects him excitedly pointing to Eddie. 

Steve takes a moment to process it, but as soon as he opens his mouth, Eddie cuts him off. “I’m not his secret admirer! I’m just... the messenger! Okay? I caught them the first time, and I promised to deliver the rest so they wouldn’t get caught.” He holds his hands up, pretty proud of his ability to make shit up on the spot. But he’s also dug himself into a way deeper hole. 

He glances towards Steve, trying his best not to look guilty or suspicious. Oddly enough, Steve seems a bit... disappointed by the news. Probably just because he was excited to solve the mystery of E.R. and no other reason. “So, you know them?” Steve questions. 

“Better than you think,” Eddie says, and tries not to cringe as Robin signals at him to cut it out. 

“Sworn to secrecy?” 

“The secretest,” Eddie replies lamely but Steve doesn’t laugh for once, just smiles tightly. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dustin says again. “You’re our friend first! Whoever this is can forget about whatever promise you made.” 

“Why don’t we talk about this outside while grabbing Steve’s gift?” Eddie says already grabbing Dustin’s shoulder and pulling him out the door. 

“Who is it? Who could possibly be so important that they-”  

The door closes behind them, and Eddie finally starts talking, “It’s me, okay? But not like me.” Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face. 

“You have like two seconds to explain to me before I tell Steve,” Dustin says, full attitude in his tone. 

“Steve couldn’t stop saying he was hopeless, so I came up with a plan to give him hope.” 

Dustin narrows his eyes at him. “So, you made Steve an imaginary admirer to stop his whining.” Eddie cringes at that description, but... it’s true. “That’s perfect!” 

Eddie shoots the kid a look. “It is?” 

“Well, we don’t have to worry about a random person trying to butt into the group, and now we’re sure that Steve will be occupied until someone else comes along.” 

Someone else. Yeah, that’s a good plan. All part of the plan. Speaking of that... Eddie grabs the small box off the top of Steve’s wheel and walks back into Family Video to find Steve staring at him. “What was that all about?” 

“Had to convince Henderson that the admirer was worthy enough for his second favorite babysitter.” 

“The first being?” 

“Me of course. Right Dustin?” Eddie asks ruffling his hair. 

Steve points at the kid. “Don’t answer that.” 

Dustin holds his hands up and changes the subject, “I’m just here to see what’s in the box.” 

With that, Eddie tosses it to Steve who catches it easily. He smiles down at the gift. “I don’t want to undo the bow it’s so cute.” 

Robin gives him a look filled with confused disgust. “Just open the box.” 

Steve reluctantly unties the bow and stares at the note. Dustin and Robin scoot closer to him and read along. Eddie joins them. You and me... that has a nice ring to it. Robin groans and Dustin laughs. 

Okay, maybe it doesn’t make total sense, but it’s the best Eddie could come up with. It has the effect Eddie wanted – Steve's cheeks flush a wonderful shade of pink. He opens up the box on the counter and removes the ring carefully. He slowly spins it around to look at every detail. 

Robin and Dustin look over at Eddie with wide eyes. “Looks like your secret admirer is proposing,” Robin breathes out. 

“No I-” Eddie trails off as Steve looks up at him. “I... don’t think that was their intention. Besides, I doubt it fits his ring finger.” 

Steve slides the ring over his ring finger. It fits perfectly. Steve smiles. 

“Okay, I think it’s a little too soon for a marriage proposal,” Eddie says, sweating at the image of Steve wearing his ring for some reason. 

“Not if he’s known the person for a long time,” Dustin supplies unhelpfully. Telling him was a bad idea. 

Luckily, Steve seems too distracted by his gift to really process what the kid has said. Eddie takes the moment to shoot Dustin a warning look. He decides it’s better to take him out of the situation entirely. “So, Dustin, your duty is done, so let me give you a ride home.” 

“To the arcade,” Dustin corrects. 

“Fine, the arcade. Let's go,” Eddie says as he starts heading out the door. 

“Wait!” Steve says, finally breaking out of his thoughts. Eddie turns around. “Just... give me a minute,” Steve says and runs to the break room. 

Robin rushes forward. “You told Dustin?” 

“Big mistake, I know.” 

“Hey! I’m great at keeping secrets.” Robin and Eddie give him a blank stare. Dustin sighs, “Fine, I’ll just wait in the car.” Eddie watches as Dustin mutters something under his breath as he walks out the door. 

“You’re really getting into this whole gift thing, aren’t you?” Robin teases him with a knowing smile. What she knows, Eddie doesn’t want to think about. 

“Just helping a friend out.” 

“A friend,” Robin says sarcastically. 

The break room door opens before Eddie can defend himself. Steve rushes over to Eddie with a folded-up piece of paper.  “Can you give this to them? And just... promise not to read it.” 

“Of course,” Eddie lies, stomach churning unpleasantly. “What do you think of the ring?” he asks nervously, changing the subject. 

Steve looks down at it and smiles. “I love it.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with a big grin. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies with a soft look. Eddie tries not to trick himself into think that Steve would respond the same way if Eddie had given it to him without the false pretense of the secret admirer. 

“I’m glad.” Eddie’s eyes flicker to Robin who is staring at him while making a gagging gesture. 

A car horn saves him from any cruder gestures she could make. “Looks like it’s time for me to go and deliver a boy and a letter. Farewell!” Eddie says dramatically, waving at the pair. 

He tries not to think of why the image of Steve waving with the ring glistening on his finger stays stuck in his head. 

After Eddie drops Dustin off, he immediately unfolds the note from Steve.   

Dear E.R.,  

Thank you for the kind gifts. Would be so kind as to tell me something about yourself? Something that makes you smile the way you’ve made me smile.  

I can’t wait to hear from you, 

Steve 

It’s cheesy and romantic, and Eddie’s unable to convince himself that he doesn’t wish the note was truly for him. This was not part of the plan. 

Part Four

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[yaatrickyassification]

My Guardian angel

Synopsis: Waking up in one of the games you have played and simped for is equally draining both physically and mentally, especially when its characters have attached themselves to you.

[ Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto x fem! Reader ]

Word count: 3,886

TW: Mentions of dying, drowning, swearing, repetition of words, grammar mistakes, and not proofread.

PS: I have not played twisted wonderland for a long time, so I might get things wrong.

It was terrifying, the way water ran up to your nostrils entirely clogging it up in its presence. The flailing of your limbs in the dark ocean and in the corner of your mind you can imagine a small or a large hand making its way out of the depths of the sea, their clawed and pale white fingers tightly clutching onto your flailing ankles as you try with all of your might to swim, swim, swim, up towards the sea, to live and not to drown. And yet the hand never lets go even during your struggles.

It stays, and it’s there. Anchoring and slowly pulling you into the deep depths of the ocean with no mercy. You can vaguely hear shouts of your name in the distance, but with the way the water clogs up your nose and your mouth and everything. You can’t seem to bring it in you to care nor to think, the only thing your body can do is flail and flail around just to survive. Survive.

You open your eyes and you can see black tar rising to the sea surface as the dark substance washes over your drowning figure, covering your eyesight like a warm blanket during winter nights. And then you inhale a sharp intake of breath that leaves you wondering and confused.

I can breathe?

And then you’re opening your eyes as the water that seems to entirely close off your figure was now out of the way, and you came upon the sight of a world, a world so familiar, so pixelated, and beautiful, twisted wonderland.

Riddle Rosehearts:

"As long as you obey the rules of the Queen of Hearts, you're always welcome at Heartslabyul."

Riddle was nothing but a small child but then at that time, his small little fingers trembled in unease as his blueish-gray eyes shook furiously. It was his daily time of sneaking out of his bedroom during his break hours and going to Trey’s home to either play or eat sweets, but the loud thud startled him awake from his happy train of thought and he immediately thought about his mother, did she find out?

But what he didn’t expect to find in the courtyard of his home was a fourteen or was she fifteen? a year old girl? Inside the garden of his home, is she dead? Riddle tries to steady his breathing as he makes his way to you. His fingers gently poke at your side and he immediately backs away from your cold body, oh my god she is dead.

Riddle was about to scream and let out the most horrified and body-shaking yell he had ever ripped out of his mouth for the duration of his ten years of life, because oh sevens, did he just see a dead body fall out of the literal sky? And so, he did, his mouth opened wide as tears were about to fall from the corner of his eyes but he stopped as his eyes feast upon a small twitch of your finger.

And a groan, then the fluttering of your eyelids, and Riddle can finally see that you’re alive and… well? And you almost screamed as your eyes feast upon a young riddle that looks exactly like every fanart you have seen in the twisted wonderland fandom.

Your mouth and eyes were wide open but stopped as you saw the light tremble of the child in front of you and the look of horror in his eyes at the thought of any one of you making noise, and it came to your mind immediately. His childhood, that fucking mother-

And you seethe in silent fury, “you should go now, you don’t want to keep your mother waiting.” Riddle nodded furiously and went back towards where his room was located but stopped as he faced you and tilted his head curiously, “how did you know?” 

“I’m like your guardian angel, you can say that.” You have decided, you will adopt this child and take him out of his mother’s teachings even if it means crawling through hell and back because no way you’re letting your favorite character suffer right in front of you. And he gazes up at you with a small flush on his cheeks and he mutters, “a guardian angel…” 

The first few weeks were awkward, to say the least, you have known that Riddle was socially awkward and have not known social cues thanks to his fucked-up childhood, but it was hard to experience intense staring from a child who looks like he would dissect you the very second. You had asked him once and the child spluttered and his hand's fumbled all around him before finally letting out his question that was bothering him for weeks: “Where’re your wings?” And you facepalmed. How can this child be so cute?

The first thing that you have found out is that you have magical powers. Amazing, right? Teleportation and the other thing, you can’t quite describe it. Riddle had once tried to introduce you to Trey and Chenya and you were excited because wow, a meeting between characters, but who would have known that Trey and Chenya can’t see any bits or pieces of your existence? You comforted Riddle at that time.

(“Are you really real? Or are you just a figment of my imagination?” Riddle let out quiet sobs that break your heart into millions of pieces, “I am, why wouldn’t I be?” And Riddle quietly mutters out a small: My friends can’t see you. And you sigh, “you can see me, right?” He nods, “Didn’t I tell you? I’m your guardian angel, I will always be real.”)

When Riddle turned eleven you had the fantastic idea of stealing from his mother and giving him all of the sweets, you can buy from the town, (you dropped off the money on the counters, don’t worry. You have very high moral ethics.) He smiles as he looks at the dozens of strawberry tarts that you have bought, he will not ask about where’d you get the money because he has an inkling of where you’ve got it from. Bonus, you told him stories about your world and he loves it.

And when he got inside Night Raven College, you have expected him to burst and immediately confront a student who was eating burgers on a Wednesday because you were sure that the game mentioned a passing law like that, but he just… stared and sigh before sitting down in the cafeteria table with you beside him, (no one can still notice you.) You didn’t know how much of an impact your teachings were on him than his mother’s, which Riddle was thankful for.

You have expected it once, that you can’t fight canon. You don’t know where you went wrong but one phone call from his mother was the only thing needed and Riddle was back to his in-game persona, shit happens and he over blotted, you watch in horror as the seventeen-year-old boy now drenched in black tar, his screams were painful and forcefully wrenched out of his throat. “[y/n]! [y/n]! Please, where are you? I’m right! Aren’t I? I’m always right! You said it yourself, where is my guardian angel? Show yourself!” And the monster behind his back lets out a monstrous roar. 

You curse and your mind swirling with thoughts that you can’t even manage to understand before finally moving to another, your head was running at full speed that you didn’t even manage to notice the sprouting wings on your backs nor the shock gasps on everyone’s faces, and you felt it, deep down your soul, you were noticed.

And before you knew it your body was running (flying?) towards the boy you have raised (fuck his mother) and he stares at your figure with wide and hurried eyes and extended his arms out to you like a cub asking for his mother, “[y/n]!” And you met him in a hug that was very much so needed.

You can feel the black tar weighing and taint deep down to your white wings that are almost turning the opposite of their original color but you don't care, all you can think about is the boy in front of you, your son, your brother, your only family.

“Hey, hey! I’m here Riddle, don’t worry. I’m your guardian angel, aren’t I?”

Leona Kingscholar:

"I don't even have time to sleep."

The sun was burning as always in the desert and all Leona needs is a peaceful and uneventful nap under the large tree of Sunset Savanna, who would have known that he would come across a girl that looks older than his age (maybe fifteen years old?) with white wings spreading out of her back and curling around her figure like a protective cocoon.

And she was wet. Dripping wet, he might add. The dry land of the Sunset Savanna was wet and all muddy now due to her dripping wings and white clothing and he scoffs before making his way to you and crouching down to watch your stable breathing and your peaceful features.

“Hey, lady, are you okay?” If it were a man, he would have kicked him and growled at him threateningly for taking his space but Leona was raised to be a respectful man towards women, what a king.

Leona sighs before reaching out a hand and stopping, hesitation seen in his eyes. Right, his magic. He’s not into turning strangers into sand the first time they meet. Leona stares and stares and stares, before getting up and trying to call someone for help. But if something unexpected happens, you surely need to expect the unexpected.

“Your highness… Please excuse my rudeness, but this servant of yours can’t see the person you’re asking for help for.” Leona grumbles and points toward your sleeping figure, “she’s right there.” He points to you but to the servant’s peripheral view, it was just wet ground. “I’m sorry your highness but—” Leona growls and puts his hands up to the sky, “augh no matter, get out of my sight.” 

Leona stares at your sleeping figure before sighing and getting up from his seat, if no one will take care of you then he’ll just scurry the fuck out of here. He turns to face you for a few minutes before leaving.

You woke up to the feeling of a towel covering your entire figure and a note fluttering gently in the wind before falling right in front of you, ‘take care of yourself and pay me back after, herbivore. I don’t know what birds of your kind eat.’ Birds? You turn to your back and let out a gasp as white holy wings fill your vision, and is that a salad bowl right beside you? 

For the first few weeks, Leona hadn’t visited you even once. Though, he would sometimes enter a dreamy state and think about the girl he had given food and a towel once (very unbefitting of the second prince) but then he would shake his head rapidly, terribly confusing his royal tutor. Why am I thinking about that bird?

And yet, his body finds himself running toward the tree he has seen you. A bowl of salad and another fresh towel in hand because what if you were wet again? He doesn’t want you catching a cold— ahem, he doesn’t want you wetting the ground he’s sleeping on.

And the only thing that you can do as Leona stops in front of you with his intimidating thirteen-year-old body was gape because is that Leona Kingscholar in the flesh? and in the corner of your eyes you can see the wisps of sand fluttering around the salad bowl and towel, even Leona notices it too as he immediately lets go of the things he has brought and shove them into your hands.

“Here, take it.” You didn’t pay any mind to the trembling of his fingers, and something inside of you sparks your thinking. I won’t turn to sand, right? And you reach out to hold his tightly trembling hands, you watch as his face contorts to horror and disbelief as he tries to swat your hand away from his, “you what are you doing?!— Do you want to die?” And you smiled as you felt the wisps of sand calm down under your touch.

“You— how.” He looked at your non-disintegrating figure and calmed down under your fingertips, “you— what’s your name?” You smiled, “[y/n] [l/n], your highness. Oh, and please, I’m not a bird, I think so.”

“Then, what are you?” “a guardian angel, maybe?” He furrows his brows, “are you dumb?”

And ever since then, Leona had taken time out of his royally busy day to spend time with you, you should be honored he said.

You especially love your wings; you can fly and do tricks in the air that you can’t do before. You have tried to take Leona flying with you at one time but was greeted with a gentle swat of his hands, (he isn’t much scared of touching you now) but you still force him to fly with you and he looks at you with such a murderous look, you were scared for a second. But the way his eyes light up and his hands trying to touch the clouds with a peaceful serene smile on his face, lets you know that he was enjoying it.

When he turned fourteen, you were greeted by a slap by the door as he hurriedly went inside his room, his pristine white clothing now stained with food and drinks, and with the way he tried to stifle his sobs and his low growls tells you exactly what happened during that birthday party, you manage to coax him to tell you who were the ones that did this to him.

Safe to say, Leona wakes up the next day that four noble families got banned from Sunset Savanna for the crimes of being disrespectful to a royal. Leona stares at you suspiciously for the whole day, he was grateful but won’t tell you.

And when the time for the spell drive tournament comes around the corner, you watch so intently as Leona scores every goal and defense towards his opponents, he was crushing it that you almost hope that Malleus won’t come and take this boy away from the spotlight he should have ever since he was a kid.

And you smiled as Leona was given the championship trophy and the best player of the game medal, and Leona turned to look in your direction with adoration in his eyes and a thankful smile, “thank you,” he mutters. You just hope that he won’t over-blot.

He over-blotted, fuck. You didn’t take into account the fact that Malleus Draconia can see you, you thought a nice conversation would be good with the man because come on, he was one of your favorite characters too, and Leona might have… Found out some way, you let out a curse as a sand tornado encloses you in, “don’t worry [y/n], I’ll let you out soon, I just need to take care of some pests.” You want to smack him in the head.

And you can feel the world pulling and closing you in and their whispers of: come on, it’s time to leave. You don’t belong here. Like hell, you were leaving the man who you spent your teen years and have fallen in love with.

And you can feel the fire, fire so scorching that it can burn up the entire world into ashes. And the sandstorm surrounding you is littered with flames and Leona turns to look at you with wide bewildered eyes, in the background you can hear Lilia shouting things that consist of: “an archangel?” your identity crisis of being a bird has finally been solved, thanks, grandpa.

It was time to bring your boyfriend back to sanity.

Your eyes glowed gold in color as you wrapped your wings around the tired lion who had just finished over-blotting, thank God, or sevens. Ruggie turns to you with an indiscernible expression on his face, “you were real?” “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Like, I mean I can’t see you, so, I thought Leona was kind of delusional once aha—”

“Well, it defeats the purpose of being a guardian angel of Leona if you can see me, right?”

(Omake:

Falena receiving threatening messages from a so-called guardian angel: What the fuck is this bullshit. Let me follow this.)

Azul Ashengrotto:

"This is just… spectacular!"

When Azul first laid his eyes on you, he was bewildered. He hasn’t seen a mermaid in these parts and surely mermaids with wings. This was his first experience of meeting a winged mermaid, his parents told him once in his bedtime stories that a Mélusine can grant you wishes if you have ever stumbled upon them once. And he is very excited to get those wishes.

He lets out a toothy smile as his eight tentacles crawled through the ground to reach the slumbering mermaid, her white wings curling around her like a protective cocoon. Pretty, Azul suddenly has the urge to touch the mermaid’s wings. It can be his first wish, he reasoned with himself. And his stubby little fingers reach out to your wings gently and sacredly, as if he was handling a precious artifact from the sea. And a touch was form, feather, and skin. You woke up in a dark place and all you can think about is drowning—

You were breathing so harshly, your vision splashed with dark spots as you felt like you were drowning, and you can’t breathe— Really? Is this how you die a second time? By drowning again? And your fingers made their way to your neck, tightly clutching onto it like a lifeline, and a terrified small whisper made its way to your unhinged ears, then suddenly, you were waking up from the panic attack that seemed to consume you.

Your eyes wandered all over the place before finally focusing on a small octopus who was looking at you with terrified eyes, you can’t believe that you just literally traumatized a child with your panic attack. Then you’re spluttering, is that a young Azul Ashengrotto right in front of you? “Azul?” And Azul stood even more upright than before bowing his head at a thirty-degree angle.

“Y-yes! No! I meant; how do you know my name?” And before you could answer, the child gasps and points at your wings again. You were shocked as wings were sprouting at your back. “What the fuck— I— What is this?” You forgot that you have a child in front of you. He points and shouts: “wings! They’re very pretty!” You tilted your head to the side.

“Thank you?” Azul gasps and points at himself, “how did you know my name? Is it because you’re a Mélusine and came to grant my wishes?” “What’s a Mélusine?” Azul shyly grins before answering your question, “mermaids who have cool wings and cool tails!” He looks down at his tentacles with a bitter smile, “and they said you can grant wishes! So, can you—you grant my wish?” Quite ironic, since he was the one granting wishes the last time you played. You didn’t have the heart to refuse the young ten-year-old Azul so you nodded your head.

“Can—can we be friends?” He bowed, and this was the start of a blooming friendship between loners.

The first few weeks, Azul has brought you different foods that his family restaurant makes. You were grateful but you need to tell him to stop because he might make his family bankrupt with how much he’s giving you free food. “You might turn bankrupt with how much you’re giving me food.” Azul shakes his head, “no problem! Mom makes a lot of delicious food; we will never go bankrupt!” What… A positive child.

You dreaded the start of another school year, you watched as Azul slumped on your tail sadly, “what’s got you in the dumps?” You ask, “school, they’ll bully me about my tentacles again.” He grumbles as he grips your scaly flesh causing you to flinch and he immediately retracted his hand seeing your reaction.

“Sorry.” And he wilts before brightening up again and pointing at his tentacles, “can I make a wish? I want to have your tail.” You stared in horror at the man, will he go that far just to get accepted by society’s standards? You can feel the tears stinging your eyes but you paid no mind and held Azul’s cheeks gently.

“I won’t do it.” As if you can grant wishes, “I like you as Azul not whatever you wanted for yourself because you wanted to fit in, kids like them bully those who are different because they’re not unique they’re just inconsequential cogs in this game but you’re not, you’re perfect the way you are.” Azul cries in your chest as he lets out the insecurities deep inside his soul.

You’ve followed Azul once inside of his school (because you were a worried mother hen) to find him shouting at his bullies telling them that they’re inconsequential cog pieces, oh my god.

And when he finally mastered his special magic, the first thing that he did was grant your wish just like how you have granted him his wish of being his friend, “I’ll have my wish granted at a later time.” Azul tilts his head to the side, “what will I show you then?” You smiled, “everything that you do impresses me.” Azul preens at that.

And when the time for Night Raven College, you cried as you spotted the legs you were familiar with, you were stuck with a tail for years. You fall on your butt as your legs wobble and Azul hurriedly helps you up, the both of you peacefully unaware of two sets of prying eyes. “So, this is the Mélusine you were talking about Azul?” Jade asks as Floyd grins, “she looks so fragile, can I hug her?” And Azul immediately came to your rescue by shielding you away from the tweels.

Sevens bless him by that, because man, the tweels sure are intimidating in real life. The Lord has mercy. Wait, did they just see you? You tilted your head to the side, and so did Azul, “you can see her?” The tweels look at each other with confusion clear on their faces and they nod their heads. Safe to say you were pulled into a lot of mischievous pranks because people can’t see you and they can get away from it.

You expected Azul to be in his in-game persona when he went to Night Raven College, but no. He was better, he grants wishes but asks for money instead of their weaknesses and strong magics. And he already implanted the point system that was only applied after his overblot in the monstro lounge. 

You cheered and hugged Azul as tightly as you can, because wow character development. The tweels watch in the background as their dorm leader gets assaulted by a frail winged mermaid, “Azul! I’m very proud.” Azul splutters as he tries to hide his blossoming cheeks in his fedora hat. “A—About what?!” You can’t tell him that everything went worse in another universe, so you smiled. “You grew up.” Azul huffs.

“Of course, hey, you didn’t make a wish yet. My offer still stands, but of course, since you’re my guardian Mélusine I won’t ask for any payment—”

[chaussetteblanche]

just like the wind - X

summary : the Fellowship makes it out of the Mines, but at what cost? word count : 2.4k warnings : loss, lil' violence

Pushing through the pain and exhaustion, you rush after Gandalf, running for your lives. You leave the dark chamber and enter a hall full of pillars. Like insects, numerous Orcs appear out of every dark corner and crevasse. They circle you like flies around a lightbulb and force you into a tight circle, protecting Frodo and the three other Hobbits with your bodies. You draw your weapons. The Orcs snarl and jeer at you. Setting your jaw, you glare at the Orcs standing around you, already rejoicing. No, you think. You know this would not be the end. You would not die in a Dwarf mine, of all places. You would bring down as many Orcs as possible before leaving unscathed. You know this is not your time.

Gimli lets out a battle cry. You take this as a signal to attack and surge forward, but before your blade can pierce anything, a red light flickers at the end of the hall. It is followed by a thunderous roar. The Orcs shriek and flee at the sound. You frown in confusion, turning to look at your companions. The Dwarf booms a loud laugh, thinking he was the one who had scared them off. You do not budge. You know that whatever could scare such bloodthirsty creatures must be even more horrible than them. A bad feeling settles in your lower stomach. Your knuckles turn white around the hilt of your sword.

For a moment, the Fellowship stands alone in the hall, confused and silent. Gandalf stares at the other end of the Hall with stony eyes. You don’t understand why he suddenly looks so dark.  "What is this new devilry?" Boromir asks, not putting his sword away. Gandalf does not answer straight away. Those few seconds are enough for you and Aragorn to exchange a worried glance. Gandalf closes his eyes, concentrating on the noise. The rumble is heard once again. The wizard's eyes shoot open, electric. 

"A Balrog," he speaks wearily, "a demon of the ancient world."

You can’t believe your ears. You’d heard of such creatures before, but you didn’t know they still existed and could be found in such places. "Oh, that's just lovely. Even better than Orcs, to be honest," you spit humourlessly. You try to stay optimistic about your chances of survival, but they are dropping faster than your pants if Legolas were to ask. When another roar is heard, you take a few steps back out of caution and walk straight into a wall of muscle. You turn around so fast you stumble slightly to the side. Strong arms steady you by your upper arms. You look up and stare into Legolas' eyes. "Sorry," you say weakly. He silently nods but doesn't answer, just keeps looking straight in front of him, right over your head. You purse your lips, cursing your height, and turn back around.

"This foe is beyond any of you," the wizard declares, fear evident in his usually bright eyes. The beast growls, still hidden around a corner of the vast hall, throwing fiery light on the pillars. You pull away from the elf, heart suddenly hammering inside your ribcage.

"Run!" you scream, suddenly feeling much lighter on your feet than you did seconds ago. You all take off running for your lives. This time, you run until you stop underneath a small doorway. Gandalf leads you through it. He takes a fearful glance behind you and hisses: "Quickly!" 

You notice the Hobbits' hesitation to go first and push past them and take their place. You don’t have any time to waste. You can nearly feel the heat of the firery demon on your trail. You enter a passageway and run down a narrow, zig-zagging flight of stairs. You realize too late that a large segment of stone is missing. Your upper body falls forward as you curse, arms flailing. Just before your feet follow suit, someone grabs your leg, preventing you from falling to your death. You hang upside down for a second, staring into the unending darkness below. Vaguely, you reflect on what decisions had brought you to this particular moment.  You’re slowly pulled up by strong hands. You kneel on the edge of the stairs and see Legolas getting to his feet. He had been the one to catch you. You send him a small, shaky smile. This is getting ridiculous, you think, I do have a reputation to uphold.  "Thank you," you nod. He forces a smile and nods back, though his eyes radiate warmth. The rest of the party joins you and you notice Aragorn’s concerned expression. You exchage a nod of reassurance. You watch as the torch you held just seconds ago falls into the darkness. You decide this quest was involving too many near-death experiences for your liking. 

Aragorn makes his way to the front of the march and makes sure you're truyl alive and unhurt with a squeeze to your shoulder before turning around: "Gandalf!"  "Lead them on, Aragorn! The bridge is near!" Gandalf calls. You look across a wide empty space to a long bridge closing the gap between a hall and a cliff face. Behind you, the Balrog roars again. Aragorn goes to talk to Gandalf, but the wizard pushes him away: "Do as I say!" Hurt and confusion are evident your companion’s face. Defensiveness boils in your stomach at this lack of respect. "Swords are of no use here!" 

The Balrog bellows once more. Breaking into action, the Fellowship descends a flight of massive stairs. You encounter another gap in the stairs. And here I was, finding Dwarf architecture to be so wonderful, you think to yourself, frowning. Legolas gracefully jumps across it and lands on the other side. You do the same, wincing as you land when you feel your previous injuries ache. You see the Elf’s concerned brown orbs run over you but you ignore him. Your injuries were not in the top three of your priorities at the moment. The Balrog’s cry is heard once more, the closeness sending shivers down your spine. The vibrations send foundations and rocks into the darkness below you. You hear Legolas breathe "Gandalf," just before the said wizard jumps and meets you. 

Arrows whistle into the air from a faraway ledge on your left, striking the stone at your feet. Legolas is quick to shoot back. His arrow flies through the air and lands in an Orc’s head. The creature falls down from his ledge into the darkness. Boromir grabs Merry and Pippin before leaping across the gap as well. Arrows follow them from the stairs to the ledge. You steady them when they land.

"Sam," Aragorn looks over at him before picking him up and throwing him across the gap. You catch him, slightly surprised by his weight, and steadily place him down on the ground.  Aragorn reaches to pick up Gimli. Gimli holds up his hand in protest: "Nobody tosses a dwarf!" He jumps forward but nearly falls into the darkness below. You throw yourself forward and grab his beard just before he can fall. "Not the beard!" he wails. Had you not been concentrating on not dropping him to his death, you would have told him to shut his ungrateful mouth. You grunt with effort and pull him up with Legolas’ help.  Some steps crumble and fall on the opposite side of the quickly widening gap. Only Aragorn and Frodo remain on the other side. Your stomach tightens. Aragorn pushes Frodo to safety. They climb to their feet and look at the now widened gap that separates them from the rest of you. You swallow deeply. You know they can still make the jump, but the thought Aragorn falling into the neverending blackness below haunts you suddenly.

"Steady. Hold on!" Strider warns the Hobbit.  The Balrog is heard approaching from the hall you had just come from. With each roar, you feel the entire Mine shake. An immense rock falls from the ceiling and smashes through the steps behind Aragorn and Frodo, creating another gap behind them. Their stairs begin to wobble and tilt forward. "Hang on! Lean forward!" Aragorn instructs. "Come on!" you cry out, nerves wracking your body. You can hardly bear this feeling of fear and worry over your friend. Is this how he feels every time I barely escape the arms of death?

The pair shift their weight forward, tilting the stairs across the gap and slamming them onto the steps where the rest of you stand. After a few seconds of tense suspense, they jump across to safety. You breath out in relief when you steady Aragorn. He nods to you, assuring you that he’s all right before you take off again. The Fellowship runs down the stairs as the stone structures collapse behind.

You follow Gandalf around a tall column. Lying ahead of you is a long, thin bridge. Somehow, you know you’ve come to the end of the Mine and that the stairs across thatt bridge lead to the outside world. A wall of flame whirls behind you and you feel the heat of it burn against your back as you run. "Over the bridge! Fly!" the wizard booms. You all take off in the direction opposite of the fire. But instead of following you, Gandalf faces the wall of fire. The rest of you cross the bridge. Once on the other side, you turn back.

You watch in silent horror as the Balrog rises. You see fire and hear death as it roars once again. You can feel the vibrations in your body.  "You cannot pass!" Gandalf cries. Never, in all your years of living, had you ever seen such monstrosity. You had seen more than the average. But this was nearly unspeakable. An immense beast made of coal and flames stands before you. As high as a small mountain, with the claws of a hawk and the horns of a demon. It roars, shaking the ground you stand on. Frodo turns around: "Gandalf!" The wizard ignores him. 

"I am the servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the Flame of Anor… The dark fire will not avail you! Flame of Udûn!" the wizard bellows.  The Balrog strikes down on Gandalf, who narrwoly dodges the blow with his sword, successfully shattering the Balrog's balde. Glowing embers fly. The monster roars in Gandalf's face. Frodo gasps. Gandalf clenches his teeth and yells: "Go back to the Shadow!" You cannot believe your eyes.

The Balrog sets foot onto the bridge, brandishing a flaming whip. Gandalf raises his sword and staff together into the air. "YOU! SHALL! NOT! PASS!" he booms. Your eyes widen to the size of Sam's cooking saucers as you watch the wizard defend you. You had never known the wizard to be this courageous or strong. Gandalf sinks his staff into the bridge, causing a bright flash of blueish light to flash. Nostrils flaring in anger, the Balrog steps further onto the bridge.  The stone bridge collapses with the beast’s weight as it moves towards the wiazrd, and breaks before the wizard's staff. The demon falls backwards into the chasm, its glowing whip still in hand. Gandalf, drained, leans on his staff and watches the Balrog fall to its death. 

He turns around to walk back to you. You let out a sigh of relief and run over to him. But just as you were about to reach him, the flaming whip reappears from the depths of the abyss and wraps itself around Gandalf's ankle, dragging him over to the edge of the bridge. He clings onto the stone but struggles to keep his grip. You run to his aid and take his hands in yours. Frodo rushes forward but Boromir restrains him. "No! NO!" you hear the Hobbit cry out. His voice send chills through you.

You hastily try to pull the wizard back onto the bridge, but he keeps pulling you forward. You desperately push your heels into the ground, but it does little to stop you from getting closer and closer to the edge of the bridge. The darkness of the abyss approaches quickly and fear starts to cloud your mind. You take out your dagger and plunge it into the ground before keeping a hold around it. The blade slices into the skin of your hand and you hiss. Suddenly, the blade breaks and you’re pulled backwards. You let go of Gandalf’s hand and grab onto the edge of the bridge, crying out in pain when your ribs stretch. You watch helplessly as Gandalf is pulled into the darkness. "Gandalf!" Frodo cries. "Fly you fools!" the wizard screams his last words.

As though through a mist, you hear cries of your name. You are holding on to the edge of the crumbling bridge, but your fingers are slipping quickly with the sweat. Deciding you will not persih in territory belonging to Dwarves, you pull yourself together. Grunting with the effort, you swing your leg over the stone. Hands grab you, pulling you backwards onto the safety of the bridge. You are quickly pulled to your feet and away from the ledge. You tread on someone’s feet close to you but don’t have time to apologize. Frodo runs forward, but you block his path with your broken blade. "LET ME THROUGH!" he yells at you. You shake your head, your lips pulled down into a sad frown.  "GANDALF!" the unbelieving Hobbit cries heartbreakingly, sinking into the ground. His cries make your skin crawl. You feel Aragorn's disbelieving eyes on you. 

You take a look around, breathing heavily. Legolas stands a few centimetres away from you, having pulled you away from the ledge. His brows are pulled together in what seems like confusion and disbelief. Frodo is crying on the ground, his little shoulders shaking with sobs. The other Hobbits are trying to console him while they wipe their own tears. Gimli and Boromir stand frozen in shock.  A whistling arrow narrowly misses the elf standing next to you. You are reminded of where you are: "We need to get out of here," you decide. You will your voice to be strong and stable even if you feel the exact opposite. You help Frodo up and start walking towards the stairs. Aragorn nods at you after a second. You walk up the stairs in silence, the only sound being the snifflings of your companions.

You can only wonder how you will manage to continue without Gandalf.