#an innocent rabbit; ic

[bulletfestival]

Yoshi clicks with Kyouko for the reasons that she is likewise green, cheerful, and makes funny noises.

Seiran is already bad at the game, and maining Ice Climbers, one of the most complicated characters to master, does nothing to help her loss streak.

Mr. Game & Watch (switched to Villager from Sm4sh onward for the obvious connection).

Kirby but specifically with his white palette.

[bulletfestival]

"......"

*BEGIN FLASHBACKS*

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"How many times do I have to tell you: This. Is not. The toy. She asked for! I get you only have enough space in your TINY sparrow brain to store your fancy recipes, but how hard is it to just grab the right one FIVE SECONDS after I ask you for it?!"

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"All right, Maki, you take the hammer and I'll hold the nail in place. When I say 'go', you swing as hard as you can! Three, two, one..."

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"...This was on fire when we found it."

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*END FLASHBACKS*

"I dunno."

"Maki. Maki-chan, look at me. Look me in th-- ...never mind. Can you honestly tell me, with a straight face, that you've never seen Mugi be unreasonable?"

She doesn't even mind it. Him being unreasonable is part of the fun of Eientei - especially when it's not directed her way. But surely even Maki would have noticed it.

[a-child-turned-monstrosity]

Lief was pulling his hood over his face to hide it a bit while Jack looked at his outfit in bewilderment. Lief's cheeks began to go red the longer he was in this attire while Jack just continued to stare at the gloves included with it. Both boys were dressed in Bunny Oneises, a bright pink one for Lief and a white one for Jack. Though the child normally loved such, he was growing older and he was a little embarrassed, though perhaps this was always the case as he was never seen outside with such an outfit. Still, he'd inhale and try to wear a cheerful expression, with his face still red, and celebrate today with his family.

//Happy Easter from the muns of both boys!

[alicerosejensen]

Something about sin. Pt.1

Synopsis: Leon is ready to rip all these damn feelings out of himself and tell himself over and over again that he needs a good fuck. You're too young and too cute for him. Leon knows that he shouldn't even touch you, but then why are you tearing all the sinful essence out of him?

Warning: no erotica but it is mentioned; Older!Leon; Innocent Reader; Fem/reader; age difference; Leon is tormented by his conscience; Old man/young girl; Mentions of sex; in fact (in this chapter) the reader does not view Leon as a love/sexual interest; The reader is the daughter of another DSO agent.

A/N: I apologize for any mistakes. I really like the idea of dark Leon, but I don’t want to make him look like a bastard).

Feedback is welcome. If you want to point out mistakes or scold me, please do so in a gentle manner.

Part 2

This was wrong...

But 'Wrong' is not the word that could describe how he feels every time he sees you. One slightest appearance and Leon immediately feels like Humbert from Nabokov’s novel “Lolita,” who ruined the life of a little girl, well, the only difference is that you seem to be 19-20 years old, and not 14. Actually, it’s already wrong to want you, given that huge fact that you...don’t give him any reason.

You don't wag your pretty ass in front of him, you don't wear revealing clothes, and damn you're a victim of his sinful thoughts! When the fuck did this start?

The day he saw you might have been the right answer. This was the day when his colleague, the only one in the DSO besides Hannigan and Helena, sympathized with him and believed that what was standing in front of him was not a cold-blooded killer of the president, but the same Leon who would rather take a bullet and give his life than kill the one he was supposed to protect. The clarification of all the circumstances and the justification of his innocence dragged on for a long time, maybe that’s why your father then simply wanted to show an act of friendship and support by inviting him to a family dinner? Returning back, Leon thinks that it would be better if he went through hell again.

Leon immediately realized that the dinner was arranged primarily for him. Fried chicken with sides, a light salad, your mom made appetizers and even made a casserole. One is too many for him. The icing on the cake was when your father opened an expensive bottle of wine. He immediately felt awkward about this, after all, who was he to be bothered with so much, but you...

"Mr. Kennedy, what do you want? Maybe a salad? The thin sound of your voice almost made him feel weak. Your beautiful hands held the salad bowl, and almost as if on cue, you were ready to fill his plate with whatever he wanted. And those doe eyes looked at him so sweetly.

Leon could have sworn that at that moment some kind of blessing...or curse came down to him. He doesn't even remember what you were wearing. Some kind of brown blouse with jeans? He didn’t even pay attention to it, his eyes were completely focused on your pretty face. It was rubbish. You yourself were old enough to be his daughter and, as was said earlier, you didn’t even give him a hint to think that you were not indifferent to him. Actually, at dinner, when you were sitting between your parents opposite him, Leon saw how uncomfortable you were. You ate almost nothing and didn’t say anything, and an hour later you ran upstairs to your room, citing the fact that you hadn’t finished some task yet.

And your father quickly let you go, so you quickly jumped up the stairs like a rabbit, running away from his insidious gaze.

Maybe he just needed to let off some steam, he decided. In fact, it is not very often that there are women in his house who can spend at least a night with him. Last time it was Ada, and sex with her was too rough and fast. He cum almost as soon as she found herself in his arms, and for some reason Leon at that moment was not thinking about her, but about how it would anger Simmons, who believed that Kennedy was not worthy of her. However, it was true.

It seems like it's starting to become a habit, wanting women he doesn't deserve. At least Ada herself comes to him and Leon knows that she will not demand anything from him, they have never even had dinner together, and what did they do together besides sex, battles and flirting? That's right, nothing. But he has even less interaction with you.

Ada's black hair is too short, unlike yours, which could fall all over him if you were sleeping on his chest in this bed right now. But Ada never laid her head on his chest and always left unnoticed, leaving behind a barely perceptible trail of perfume. You wouldn't have left, Leon thinks, looking at the ceiling, ignoring the brown gaze of the woman he's been crazy about for so many years. Why is he comparing you and Ada at all? Two women who don't look like each other at all, which makes damn sense. You don't have to be like this! Your father would rather put his neck under the axe than allow his daughter to serve in the DSO or any other service, but in any case, you do not aspire there.

As a result, a woman will always understand when someone else settles in her man's head and Ada just smiles slyly moving closer to him, but all Leon hears is the rustle of a blanket.

"Well, who is she?"

As always, there was no hint of jealousy. Ada is the epitome of calm and composure, but Leon really doesn't know what to answer her.

After all, you are nobody and at the same time you have planted strong roots in his head.

"She?"

He pretends not to understand her, but Ada has long figured him out. For her, he will always remain a rookie cop.

"Yes." She still smiles, resting her head on her hand while lying on her side, "Who is this 'Jolene' What took my puppy away from me?"

Leon grins, but at the same time he feels an unpleasant ache in his chest from her words. Puppy... of course, he remained that way, and Ada was good at getting to the bottom of it, and yet she did not say that he was her lover, because there is no love between them as such.

"There is no 'Jolene' in my life and it is unlikely that there will be," he said wearily, reaching out to hug her, but contrary to expectation, he did not feel the desired warmth, and the itch inside grew like a wild beast intending to get only one thing - you.

In the morning, Ada disappeared as usual, and Leon was not even surprised. But instead of a paper airplane with a lipstick imprint on the kitchen table, he found a small note, folded in half, where only one thing was written: “I think you really need a family. You should think about it."

Maybe Ada really was right, but if she knew your age, she would obviously look at him with bewilderment, thinking that somewhere on the mission he was hit hard on the head. On the other hand, maybe she would have sarcastically joked that the older a man gets, the more he wants to have a young girlfriend instead of the old one, although he wouldn’t dare call Ada old.

Besides, you were supposed to remain only in his head and Leon could only hope that one day he would simply forget about you. For example, fucking with a random girl from a bar, but bad luck, against his own will, closing his eyes, Leon still wanted you. As if you were the one clinging to his back with your nails, leaving bloody streaks marking him and screaming his name. Complete crap.

You live your quiet life, not knowing what a zombie is, in complete material wealth and parental love. When your second meeting with Leon happens, he sees that you are dressed in some kind of wide sundress and are trying to drag something heavy alone, although dad strictly ordered you not to do this, but you, as a caring daughter, did not listen to him because wanted your father to do something other than hard work instead of carrying those heavy boxes out of the barn. The fact that you yourself were barely coping, not very successfully, was ignored by you.

Leon couldn't look at it calmly. He himself told you twice to leave the boxes, but you just snorted offended at him.

"Spoiled girl"

You want to prove something to someone, although this will most likely harm your health and force your father to fork out for doctors and medicine, so Leon, not paying attention to your snorting face, took the load from you and carried it into the house, leaving you with only light boxes.

In fact, no matter how hard Leon tries to convince himself that he just needs a break, your game keeps cutting him like a knife. If he were 21 years old again and he could get to know you before Raccoon, you could hum beautiful lyrical poems about how a boy fell in love with a girl and the whole world around him changed. As if you could be those two stupid lovers who burn alive in their love until finally they become disgusted with each other, although more and more often Leon realizes that in his loyalty and devotion only he would disgust you, not you from him. He would be your devoted puppy, as he has always been for Ada.

You would be everything to him.

Or already?

Is it right to look at a young girl like that when he is almost an old man himself? Why don't you have some annoying boyfriend with whom you can constantly text and chat on the phone thinking that this is the love of your life? And why can't he just throw you out of his head?!

"Mr. Kennedy" the way his last name comes off your tongue makes him almost rush to you and take you somewhere far away where no one would find you. However, Leon is disgusted by the idea that he will be the cause of fear and tears of an innocent girl who is completely innocent of what is happening in his unhealthy head. To tell the truth, it's not even lust… No, of course he feels physically attracted, but first there is some kind of dog instinct maturing inside to protect you from EVERYTHING and EVERYONE.

Then you started awkwardly calling his name and he just became Leon, always smiling when you ask him for something or just out of politeness ask how he is, whereas in fact you don't really care what's going on in his life. At least that's what he thinks, not really knowing what thoughts are going through your head.

Leon can't possibly know that you want someone older. Just a little colder so that you can become someone's secret, because even though you're young, you're of age. And yet you're watching these weird love movies that Leon thinks are sweeter than the cheapest chocolate and probably the books on the shelves have similar plots. A love to fight for. Disgusting rubbish, really.

But your smile is getting softer and Leon feels like he's giving up.

But Ada really understands that she is finished. Your beauty is incomparable, and even though she smiles in Leon's face, her heart also breaks apart when he says another woman's name in a dream. Huh, women…girls. How easily were you able to get hold of someone she's been involved with for so long.

In fact, it's a shame and Ada also understands that the years of youth are merciful to you, unlike her, and in fact you grabbed Leon's leash and there's no point in begging to find another man. Besides, Leon himself has always been eager for normality, for what he can build with an ordinary civilian girl. You will be a faithful girl to him, and he will be yours.

Someone else always comes. Younger and more beautiful. In Leon's case, meeting someone like you was also a well-deserved reward, so their nights are becoming increasingly rare and have long lost their passion. The only thing Ada doesn't understand is why you won't pull the leash on yourself. However, this question quickly disappears when she finds out that Leon stubbornly drowns his feelings in whiskey, in her and other women, who, though few, still have them. And then, like a faithful dog, he runs up to you just to wag his tail at the sight of you.

In the end, Ada doesn't even back down, but just waits for Leon to draw a line between them that can no longer be crossed. And waiting for you to lie on these soft pillows instead of her, like his beloved princess, or climb onto his lap and his lips will leave kisses on your neck. Leon deserves you. He deserves his share of happiness in a world where the government has turned him into a perfect weapon against bioterrorism.

Leon's touch is becoming more and more relaxed and you are not afraid of his wide chest, given your size difference. He could have easily swatted you, but for God's sake, Leon S Kennedy would rather put a bullet in their brains than hurt you. You hug him, listening to the pounding in your chest when he gives you an obscenely expensive Christmas present and drinks hot chocolate with you. No, Leon likes sweets, but in moderation. All those bright ribbons, the Christmas tree… not for him, but if you were in his house now, he would decorate his apartment for you and then hug you for several hours, nuzzling your head hoping that his phone would remain quiet.

Leon wants to put you in his bed, he's even ready to be your sugar daddy and get punched in the face by your dad knowing that you're going to grab onto him, but he just wants you. Like a stupid old dog who wants to be petted by a new owner. And Leon is sure that he will die of longing if you don't do it. The fact that you still don't have a boyfriend is just comforting, but anxiety grows when your father tells him that he's worried that his beloved daughter isn't interested in boys her own age.

"Anyone older?" your father says rhetorically while helping Leon fix his bike, "Buddy, I don't want an old man like you or me to become my son-in-law."

"But this way you'll have something to talk about," Leon grins, feeling that he has everything to step on the gas.

And he will take the risk again, even if it means a broken nose.

[bulletfestival]

"OK Mom, let's get you to bed."

"Mama's not going crazy, is she?"

"If I had joined Eirin, Gensokyo would belong to the Lunarians."

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

The Peapod (The Surprise, Part 6)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, established relationship, fluff on fluff on fluff, some fairly innocent references to breasts, the most wholesome BAU content, platonic love/found family 4ever Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Emily are finally ready to tell the BAU your good news, so you invite everyone over for a dinner party. Celebrations ensue.

A Note on Timeline: In my head and in this fic, we're forever stuck in the Elite Team era of the BAU (Unit Chief Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, Garcia, JJ, Reid, Emily).

Week 13: The Peapod

“What did you say this was called?” Rossi asked you, dipping a hunk of cornbread into his stew.

Light music played from the record player in the corner, and the sounds of people enjoying good food and good company surrounded you. You and Emily had invited the whole team over for dinner. Emily was dying to tell them about the baby, but she’d wanted you to be there, too. This was, you knew, Emily’s version of sharing the news with her family, especially since her mom hadn’t been very enthusiastic. The BAU was her family, and you were her family, and she loved when her two worlds collided.

“Brunswick stew,” you answered, putting a few pieces of ice in Jack’s and Henry’s bowls as you ladled so that it wouldn’t be too hot.

“Thank you much.” Will nodded at you, grinning. “Been a while since I had Brunswick stew.”

“Us southerners gotta stick together up here, right?” You placed little slices of cornbread at the corner of their bowls. “You and JJ and Henry should come over for brunch sometime. I’ll make you biscuits and gravy.”

“We’d love that,” he said warmly, settling Henry in his seat before taking his own.

“You know, Brunswick stew may have originated in either Brunswick County, Virginia, or Brunswick, Georgia, but nobody knows which one.”

You shook your head. Of course Spencer knew the origins of Brunswick stew.

He kept going, tearing bits of cornbread and sprinkling them on top of his bowl. “Originally the stew would have been made with squirrel, rabbit, or possum meat. It cooks so long that it was ideal for tenderizing wild game.”

The room went silent. You passed behind Spencer carrying your own bowl and patted him on the shoulder.

“No squirrels here, though,” you assured them. “Just pulled pork from Hill Country.”

You settled in your seat next to Emily, Derek on your other side, and looked around for a moment, smiling. You were so thankful for these people. Thankful that they took care of each other so well, that they took care of Emily so well. They did such difficult work, but they got through it together. They really were like family. Overlapping conversations washed over you, and you were content to just listen for a while.

After dinner, everyone sprawled across the apartment, conversing happily. You were standing and talking to Penelope about the new Zelda game when Emily came over and took your hand. It was time. She grinned at you, and there were no nerves, only excitement. You gave her the slightest of nods, and she tapped her wine glass.

The conversation trickled to a stop as everyone looked to Emily.

“So we actually have some news,” she started, looking at you and squeezing your hand. “Y/N and I are, uh… we’re having a baby.”

Jaws dropped and huge smiles broke out.

“What!?” Penelope squealed excitedly, wrapping both of you in a bear hug. She was echoed by the whole team’s congratulations, happy calls of “Wow!” and “Congrats!” and general sounds of happiness, even a few scattered claps.

“Which one of you’s carrying?” Rossi asked.

Spencer answered before you could. “It’s Y/N. You can tell because she’s gained weight around the face and also because her breasts are significantly bigger to prepare for breastfeeding.”

“Spence!” JJ exclaimed, smacking his arm. A happy roar of laughter broke out, and you blushed beet red.

“Reid, can we not talk about my wife’s boobs, please?” Emily chastised, but you could tell she was overjoyed. This was the reaction Emily deserved from her family. You were so glad she was finally getting it.

Hugs were given all around and happy mumblings took over the room as you and Emily were swarmed for conversations and congratulations.

Rossi put his arm around your shoulder and squeezed. “I’m happy for you kids,” he said, placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks, Dave,” you said, smiling at him.

Penelope swallowed you up in another hug. “I am so excited!” she gushed. “You and Emily are gonna be the best, most kickass moms, and we’ll have another little BAU baby! Have you all been clothes shopping yet!? Can I come!? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?!”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Well, Emily’s pretty sure it’s a boy, but that’s based purely on her ‘profile,’ so it’s still up in the air.”

“Ugh, profilers, am I right?” Penelope groaned, commiserating with you.

JJ and Will came over to offer their congratulations, too, hugging you tightly.

“It’s the greatest gift,” Will told you. “There’s nothing like it in the world.”

“How far along are you?” JJ asked.

“Thirteen weeks.”

“Second trimester,” she observed, nodding.

“Yeah, thank god,” you said, chuckling. “Morning sickness kicked my ass.”

JJ laughed, then shuddered. “Oh, I remember. Is Emily taking good care of you?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “The best. She’s amazing. I couldn’t do it without her.”

“Well, I’ll try to keep her home as much as I can,” JJ told you with a wink.

“Thanks, JJ.” You squeezed her hand.

“And, you know, if you need anything, we’re here,” she added. “Even if it’s just to call and talk about the shitty parts of being pregnant.”

You groaned, but smiled. “Please. And thank you. Emily’s here and she’s great, but…”

“It’s different when it’s your body.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Reid came to stand awkwardly between you and JJ. You were all silent for a moment before Spencer blurted, “I’m sorry I talked about your breasts.”

You and JJ burst out laughing.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you assured him, patting his back.

“I’m really happy for you both,” he said, so straightforward, so awkward and sincere. You loved that about him.

You noticed Hotch standing off to the side, waiting his turn to speak with you, and excused yourself to join him.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” he said, smiling softly, wrapping you in a quick hug. Hugs were rare for Hotch, and you felt honored to be a recipient.

“Thank you,” you said, and you really meant it. You stood in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the team gather around Emily, smiling and laughing. You beamed at her. She looked so happy. You loved seeing her happy. You loved seeing her loved as deeply and as well as her team loved her.

“I hope you know,” Hotch ventured, his voice serious. “That I do everything I can to make sure she comes back home to you safely.”

“I know,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Thank you, Hotch.”

The last to approach you was Derek, and he had already known. Emily had told him just a few days earlier, swearing him to secrecy until the dinner party.

He smirked at you, pulling you into him for a hug. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed.

There weren’t any words needed, not with you and Derek. He was Emily’s best friend. He was over for dinner or video games or a movie at least a few times a month. He was like a brother to her. And, therefore, he was like a brother to you, too.

You both watched Emily, who was showing the rest of the team a photo of a peapod to illustrate the baby’s size. Her face was alight, her cheeks tinged pink with joy and probably a little too much wine. God, you loved her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Prentiss so excited.”

“Me neither.”

Derek looked down at you, smiling. “You know she loves you more than anything, right?”

You nodded, feeling so happy you thought you might cry. “I know.”

“She picked good,” he said, his arm around your shoulder.

“Are you gonna be Uncle Derek?” you asked him. You hadn’t talked about it with Emily, but you were sure she’d be on board.

“Girl, I better be Uncle Derek.”

You laughed and rested your hand over your belly, your heart full. This baby was going to be so, so loved.

Later that night, Emily crawled into bed next to you, flopping onto her back and grinning like an idiot.

“Happy?” you asked, eyes shining as you stared at her.

She exhaled deeply, her tongue pushing at her bottom lip then, so quickly it took your breath away, flipped over and kissed you. It was a happy kiss, a light kiss, a kiss that wasn’t quite a kiss because you both were smiling and laughing so much.

“You make me happy,” she said, her hands gently cupping your face. You pecked her on the lips once more before her nose crinkled up in a smile and she fell to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and laying her head on your chest.

You held her close and kissed the top of her head, running your fingers through her hair. So soft, like it was running water. It wasn’t often that Emily let you hold her, and it was even less often that she initiated it. So you held her tight, taking advantage of the rare and beautiful moment. Maybe it would become less rare, you thought. Maybe the little peapod was making Emily go soft. She already was, of course, but she had a hard time admitting it, showing it.

“You deserve to be happy,” you told her as she drew lazy circles on your stomach with her fingers. “You deserve people who love you.”

She was quiet for a while, and when she finally replied, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You really think so?”

You kissed her head a few more times for good measure. “I do.”

Emily took your hand and kissed your palm, holding onto it and twisting your wedding ring back and forth. Neither you nor Emily said anything else, and you didn’t need to. Everything unsaid had already been said, time and time again, year after year. All the words of love and dedication and admiration–you’d said them so often that sometimes the silence simply spoke for you. And sometimes you just held each other and let it.

[bulletfestival]

⭐️ a touri for a maki

Given the various commonalities between her own mother and Touri, shifting from one mother figure's care to the other (such as when Nagi is busy and requires someone else to look after her) comes as an easy segue to Maki; a day with Touri feels much like a day with Nagi, just with a different coat of paint, so to speak.

[apomaro-mellow]

Jeff just looked at Steve’s retreating form wide eyed. “He’s a whole idiot. A fucking moron, I swear.”

Eddie was watching as Steve walked away as well, but with an altogether different emotion in his eyes.

“Steve Harrington is anything but an idiot.”

“How d’you figure?”, Gareth asked.

Because when you’re prey, you couldn’t afford to be stupid. A smart rabbit knew when to hunker down and hide. A smart deer knew when to bolt. Eddie had laid out the trap: a flirtatious remark. Steve had looked right down at it and turned away because he wasn’t going to be caught so easily.

Eddie was going to have to be smarter too.

--------------------

Eddie had a strategy when he wanted just blood. Get ‘em alone, compel them a bit, get a bite, leave ‘em disoriented and play it off like they’d just taken a weird hit of whatever strain he was selling.

When he wanted more than blood, when he wanted someone, he had a different tactic. It started with light flirting. The kind you could joke about. That was how he had started with Steve. But Steve had just looked at him, eyes wide and innocent like he couldn’t understand what Eddie was insinuating when he said he wanted a taste.

“And I don’t mean the cone”, Eddie had said, glancing at the ice cream in Steve’s hand.

That hadn’t landed. And it burned Eddie inside. He had to be more blatant. His fangs were itching to sink into that flesh but Steve Harrington had continued to evade him.

It all came to a head when Eddie found himself at a Harrington house party. Normally he hung around for a bit to deal, then bounced. But tonight he was planning on completing his conquest. Steve was always surrounded by people though. It was hard to pick him off.

There was a moment when he’d lost him. And in the heat and hormones of a teen crowd, he couldn’t sniff him out. Then someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Steve’s lookin’ for you.” It was some guy Eddie didn’t know well and he was talking like Steve was hankering for some weed. Like he couldn’t just find him himself. But some folks preferred to smoke to relax and not to party so he wasn’t too surprised to be sent up his room.

Eddie made it up there and found Steve, leaning against his doorway, a perfect line from head to toe. He looked up at Eddie through his lashes.

“Hey. Wanna come in?”

His bedroom. The room where so many had spent a night with Steve Harrington and came out with a story to tell. Eddie couldn’t believe it. Had he somehow lucked into Steve’s pants? 

He took a step forward and caught an almost smug look on Steve’s face as he took a step backward into his room.

Wait.

Wait just a damn second.

“You’ve been hunting me.”

“I’ve been luring you, it’s a little different.”

“You know what I am?”

“I know you’re allergic to garlic. And that you need my permission to cross the threshold”, Steve said.

“And?”

Steve slipped his fingers through the belt loops of Eddie’s pants and pulled him in. Eddie closed the door behind him. To catch or be caught, either was fine by him.

[bulletfestival]

"Euh, I don't...what-"

He and Maki are far from home, that much Mugi can concede. The next thing he knows, a hand is holding his shoulder as if to lock him in range of what he can only assume are comments made to mock his appearance. One can practically hear the sound of a whistling tea kettle moments before he snaps, his mitted hand smacking hers away as he steps back.

"What, do we have to bake ourselves like turkeys to be welcome here?! We don't even know where we are!"

This outburst manifests a flashing question mark above Maki, who, unlike her brother, didn't think the woman was heckling them.

"We're lost," she so helpfully adds.

@bulletfestival unprompted plot starter

"Woah! A Velvan rabbit all the way out here? You must be awfully far from home but I guess I am too! You're pretty pasty though, aren't ya? I've never seen any with such white skin before!"

Sentinel had placed a hand onto Mugi's shoulders and basically just started speaking. It seemed she had mistaken him for someone and something that he was not. The people back in her homeland were generally quite social folk even with strangers. She didn't think this would be particularly an issue with the stranger.

"Unless! Oh Lord of the Pale Moon! It couldn't be! You're not secretly the legendary white rabbit are you?"

What she was saying likely sounded delusional but the woman was saying it as genuinely as possible. It seemed she REALLY mistook Mugi for someone he was not.

[wrightingdungeon]

What about a literal kid, 10-ish or something YO, Tav(or Durge) that is really really strong?. Obviusly not the leader of the group. What would the gang reaction to meeting them.

Maybe a sorcerer, a warlock or a rogue?

Absolutely love this ask thank you for giving me the ability to terrorize the BG3 cast

Ankle Biter Durge 100000000% my friend, I am going the redemption route and rouge for this little shit. Reminds me of my Chucky Durge I made, but baby-sized and a chance at redemption

Warning: Cursing, blood, violent little Chucky child, killing the goblin kids, A little fluff

Astarion: Waking up from his meditation/sleep to go feast he blinked, rubbing his eyes. There in front of him stood the small child Durge that they had adopted, covered in blood, holding out a dead rabbit to him. “I saw you like blood too mister Astarion.” The child spoke to him with the innocence of a child but their face held the smile of a mad man. “O-Oh… Thank you, Darling…” He said slowly taking the rabbit in a pinch hold. “Good night Mister Astarion.” Astarion sighed and got up. “Let's get you cleaned first, you… little killer you.” He said with a soft chuckle remembering he was traveling with a pack of weirdos. After helping the child clean off and tucking them into their bed roll ensuring they fell asleep. Astarion snuck off into the night, only one thought in his mind: this had to be normal… Right?

Gale: The group had been ambushed by Gnolls, Gale guarding Durge with himself as they stood back. As a Gnoll approached them Gale cast a fog cloud so he could get the child out of the fight safely. Turning to grab the child and run, he gasped seeing they were gone, they had been right there! They were holding his robes! Hearing the Gnoll right behind him he turned knowing it was too close for him to defend, bracing for the attack. Crazed giggles started to ring out over the Gnoll’s growls, yelps, howls, and screams of pain rang out from the fog. Gale dropped concentration on the cloud, gasping as he saw the tiny Durge making minced meat of the Gnoll, the manic giggles had come from the child. “Durge, Durge!” Gale yelled pulling the child back from the corpse. “He almost got you Mister Wizard!” Gale was touched the child wanted to save him, but looking at the mangled Gnoll he couldn't help but feel fear.

Halsin: He loved every child he did, but the Child who came with the Adventuring Party…. That wasnt a child. He was shocked to see a child walk into the cells with the adults at first pitying the child for being dragged into such a dangerous place by so many irresponsible adults. When the child started crying about the Goblins “Hurting the Fuzzy Bear.” He couldn't stand it anymore, breaking out of his cell so he could take the child back to the grove where they would be safe. As he fought he saw from the corner of his eye, that the children goblins were running away screaming for help, but Durge followed them. His eyes widened as Durge jumped on one child's back slitting their throat before jumping to the other and tackling them to the ground. He had to turn back to his fight at hand, but after the smoke cleared he held his mouth looking at the butchered bodies of the two goblin children. “They almost got away!” The giggles he heard made his blood run ice cold, no, that wasnt a child at all.

Karlach: Sighing a sigh of relive able to make “The Blade of Frontiers” Wyll to see she wasnt a demon, just a tiefling. She looked at the rest of the group her eyes landing on a small child hidden behind Wyll. “Well hello, their little one.” She said smiling and waving at the child. “Hey, there are Paladins of Tyr nearby, they are hunting me.” She said looking down at the kid. “I don't want them getting hurt.” She was confused when the group didn't seem to hold the same worries. She learned fast though, yelling at Anders no one had noticed the child climb to the loft watching the arguing from above. When it started to get heated Karlach was shocked when the little Durge dropped down attaching themselves to Ander's head and stabbing him over and over squealing like they were playing a child's game. After the fight and blowing off some steam, she looked over chuckling watching the child running the dead's pockets. She couldn't help but see a memory of her boss from when she was young, the way he would kill them and only take the valuables. It sent a shiver down her spine, but Gortash was the past, no need to sit on that right.

Lae’zel: Looking out from her hiding spot she viewed the surroundings before looking back to Durge. “You can do this, you are a warrior.” She said firmly and pointed out to the sleeping Bugbear. “He is asleep, slit his throat.” She said and watched as the child tiptoed out from their box shield. She watched a feeling of pride washing over her as she remembered her training as a child, and how she was able to train a little warrior of her own, like the general she was meant to be. “Htak'a” She whispered under her breath watching the child raise their blade above their head, smiling as the blade came whistling down slitting the large creature's throat and plunging into his heart, she couldn't be more proud. “Kith'rak! Kith'rak! I did it!” Durge yelled out happily running back to Lae’zel with open arms, stopping the child she patted their head smiling at them. “You did good yank.” She said standing up and pulling her sword out to attack the Goblins that Durge had attracted with their yelling.

Shadowheart: Glaring at the shopkeep she huffed giving up on her haggling. “Ya know what, who wants this stupid armor anyway.” She retorted at the shop-keep grabbing Durges hand and walking away. “Miss Shadow Lady, didn't you want that?” The child asked looking up at Shadowheart with a confused look on their face. “Not for that price in silver.” She said sighing running a few more errands the camp needed to be done before returning to Camp. Waking up she blinked seeing the armor she wanted, a little blood-stained, but sitting next to her bed roll. The whole camp had gotten new armor or weapons like someone cleared out that shop-keeps store. Returning to town a day later, Shadowheart heard that the shopkeep she was haggling with had been robbed and killed in the middle of the night. She couldn't help but notice the little coy smirk placed on the Durge's face, their eyes turning large and puppy-like, their lip jutting out into a pout when they caught Shadowheart looking at them.

Wyll: Hearing his father could be in Waukeen’s rest he helped break down the door and charged inside, leaving Durge with a flaming first outside. Saving Counsellor Florrick he tried to figure out how to get to the man he saw trapped under a large beam. Feeling something bump into him he looked down gasping trying to grab the legs of Durge as they slipped into a hole he couldn't fit in. “Durge! No, get back here!” He called scared to break the door open knowing it would engulf the room in flames. He watched yelling at Durge to come back that it was too dangerous, He groaned as the child ignored him, but was shocked to see the child was able to free the man, using their slingshot to break the other door and escape safely. Running out of the burning building he rushed past the Flaming Fist who was bitching about Wyll’s child biting them and running away. He ran to Durge and picked them up looking them over. “Never do that again!” He scolded them hugging them close. “But I got him out!” Hearing the child whine he chuckled looking at them, not able to argue that they had saved a life today. “Yes you did, you saved someone Durge.”

[icybreaths]

In the depths of the mystical forest, where the murmurs of the trees intertwined with the gentle caress of the breeze, a being of extraordinary elegance stepped forth from the twilight. Her fur shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the moon's embrace, radiating a soft, silvery luminescence that illuminated the verdant carpet beneath her. Her mane glowed with an otherworldly light, each strand resembling delicate threads woven from the very essence of moonbeams. Above her, the leafy canopy arched like a grand cathedral, sunlight filtering through in a whimsical ballet, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow upon her form.

Once, she had been a powerful witch, wise and revered, moving with a grace that echoed her lost humanity. Her eyes, now reflecting the depth of a nocturnal creature, carried a quiet sorrow, a poignant reminder of the life she had once known. They sparkled with ancient knowledge, hinting at the stories of countless nights and the whispered mysteries hidden within the forest's embrace.

Her hooves danced through the muck and mire of the earth, each step resonating with the pulse of the land. The woodland creatures sensed her arrival, for she was a guardian, a quiet watcher who safeguarded the realm with an unwavering gaze. They could feel her strength, even if they couldn’t perceive the delicate spells she spun to protect the innocent and lead wandering souls back to the familiar trails.

As the sun sank beneath the horizon, the forest fell into a hushed stillness, as if it were pausing to catch its breath. The air was rich with the aroma of pine and the allure of a night brimming with murmurs and mysteries. The transformation had exacted a toll on her, yet it had also bestowed upon her a deep bond with the spirits of the land. They communicated with her through the whispering leaves and the far-off call of an owl, steering her through the maze of ancient trees. Her mission was clear, though the journey was laden with danger. She sought the hero foretold by fate, a companion of great significance to join her in this endeavor. Until that moment arrived, she remained tethered to the forest, a quiet guardian of enchantment and wonder in a world that had long forgotten her essence.

|| Asks || @fallesto ||

The forest’s breath came with a chill the deeper one wandered. Like the leaves, it started as a whisper, nearly indiscernible from the wild nightlife.

Further ahead was a hum, low and sinister. Had survival instincts not kicked in, there might have been more bodies.

Few birds scatter the forest floor, a huddle of rabbits, a fox… schools of fish frozen still in the river.

Snow was brought in by a gale of numbing winds. The trees shivered under the hiss in the air.

An iced over wolf stood frozen mid step, head down and peering into the fogged brush. Cautious.

Blood painted the snow on the other side in a disastrous slop. From the ground to being frozen mid drip from the tree leaves above; it was everywhere.

It should have smelled worse but it was tempered by the cold.

Parts of a dark claw, a chewed open leg, and greasy black hair scattered the scene. Teeth— part of bony mask… crimson streaks that led to the dead hollow body, and the woman perched atop it.

She looked on, tonguing meat out of the dips in her talons. The approaching creature was a laughable juxtaposition to the horror here, but Jewel merely stared and studied it.

“What do you want?” she graveled out of her mangled mouth. “I’m busy.”

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔄 𝔟𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯

Mike Schmidt x gn reader

Summary: You and Mike were both forced to go back in there for money and thankfully, the animatronics never dared to hurt you again. They would just do their song maybe once in a while with their typical and clunky animations. At least until tonight.

Warnings: no pronouns used for the reader. Badass Mike and reader. Fluff with small angst moments. No smut. Scary encounters. Friends to lovers. Abby being a terrible wingman.

Words count: 4700 words

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

The fluorescent lights of Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria flickered ominously as you and Mike settled into another long night shift. The pizzeria, once bustling with the laughter and joy of children, now stood as a hollow shell of its former self.

The animatronics, with their clunky movements and eerie songs, were constant reminders of the tragic history buried within these walls, You and Mike had seen it all, from surviving the relentless animatronics to confronting the malevolent William Afton, the yellow rabbit who orchestrated the chaos.

Mike, with his tough exterior and deeply rooted vulnerability had become a steadfast companion in these dark times. His tragic past haunted him-losing his brother Garret, the incident at the mall, and the desperate fight for custody of his sister, Abby.

You shared your own struggles with him, opening up about your financial woes and the dire need to pay for college. Despite the harrowing circumstances, you both found solace in each other's company, forming a bond forged in the fires of survival.

Tonight Mike had brought Abby along, unable to find a babysitter for the evening.

You glanced at Mike, noticing the weariness etched into his face, and then down at Abby, who clung to her brother's hand with an innocent enthusiasm that seemed out of place in this haunted setting.

"I can't believe the babysitter canceled again," Mike muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "But at least Abby seems excited to be here."

Abby had taken a liking to you over the countless nights you spent with Mike and at their home. She ran up to you, her face lighting up with a wide smile as she gave you a quick hug.

As you stepped inside, the familiar creak of the front door announced your arrival. The main dining area was a haunting sight-tables and chairs arranged meticulously, as if the place was waiting for a birthday party that would never come.

"Abby, stay close," Mike called out, but she was already lost in her own world, sketching away with a crayon she had pulled from her backpack.

Despite the initial terror, the animatronics never dared to hurt you again after that. They would just perform their songs once in a while with their typical and clunky animations.

They always managed to scare you and Mike when they would, out of nowhere in the middle of the night, start to move and sing.

The three of you settled in the big room, keeping a watchful eye on Abby as she started drawing.

You caught glimpses of her movements from the corner of your eye, a smile creeping onto your face as you watched her diligently color a drawing with the small tubes of paint you had gifted her.

It wasn't much, but you wanted to give her something special. She deserved every good thing in the world, you told him, and Mike's e your limited funds.

Mike had initially protested, saying you didn't need to spend money on gifts, but his expression softened, grateful for your kindness.

“So, what do you think we could do tomorrow?” you asked him, trying to steer the conversation away from boredom and awkwardness.

Mike sighed, rubbing his eyes “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about taking Abby to the park. She’s been cooped up so much, and she needs some normalcy. Maybe we could even get some ice cream after”

You smiled at the thought “That sounds nice. Abby would love that. I’ve been thinking about catching up on some studying. Finals are coming up, and I’m way behind.”

Mike nodded, “Yeah, I get that. Maybe I can help you study. I wasn’t the best student, but I might remember a thing or two.”

The idea of spending more time with Mike, even outside this terrifying place, was comforting. “I’d like that,” you said. Thanks, Mike.”

A silence fell between you, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the comfortable silence of two people who had been through a lot together and didn’t always need words to fill the space.

With the corner of your eyes you watched Abby moving joyfully with a drawing in her hand.

You shifted in your seat, thinking about something that had been on your mind for a while. “Mike, how’s Vanessa doing? Have you heard anything new?”

The thought of her being stabbed by her own father was devastating. Mike listened, his gaze distant yet attentive, absorbing every word.

Mike’s face grew somber. “She’s still in a coma. The doctors say there’s no change. It’s hard, you know? Waiting and not knowing if she’ll ever wake up.”

You reached out and placed a hand on his own. “I’m so sorry, Mike. I can’t imagine how tough that must be for you, Vanessa’s strong, though. I believe she’ll pull through.”

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes filled with gratitude.

"She will, Mike. And she'll have us there to support her. You're a good person, despite everything you've been through.”

Mike sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I try, you know? But sometimes it feels like the world just keeps throwing more at us. First Garret, then the custody battle for Abby and now this job. It's a lot to handle”

You squeezed his hand gently "I know it's tough, but you're doing an amazing job. Abby looks up to you so much, and she's happy. That's what matters”

Mike gave you a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks. It means a lot coming from you.”

It was now or never again.

"Listen, I, uh, I've been meaning to tell you something.. something important.”

He tried to shift the conversation, awkwardly fumbling as he attempted to confess his feelings for you.

You looked at him, your interest piqued. "What is it, Mike?"

Mike's gaze darted away for a moment, his tough exterior momentarıly cracking to reveal the vulnerability bencath. He took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I just..ever since we started working together, things have felt different. You've been there for me and Abby always. I can't even begin to describe w-“

Before he could finish, the familiar clunky movements of the animatronics echoed through the room. The same music you came to hate blasted inside the room.

You really didn’t feel like seeing those giant puppets again. The nightmares that they gave you kept tormenting you even now.

Your phone buzzed, alerting you that the battery was low. "Hold that thought, Mike. My phone's about to die. I'll just go charge it in the office real quick."

Your gaze remained glued to the floor and your movements grew quicker as you heard the creak of the curtains opening.

దదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదద

Mike sat alone, staring at the empty chair where you had been. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not seizing the moment. He had wanted to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he cared about you, but now it felt like the chance had passed.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, Mike, get it together,” he muttered to himself. Determined to distract himself, he decided to check on Abby. She had been quiet for a while, and he wanted to make sure she was safe.

Where is she? When did the music stopped? The curtains of the puppet theater were wide open, but there was only the blue rabbit with his instrument in hand.

Fuck.

His steps grew louder as he moved around, hoping to find her soon.

Where is Abby?

Mike stood in the dimly lit hallway, the seric glow of the security cameras casting long shadows that seemed to move on their own.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional creak of the building settling His heart pounded in his chest, the familiar sense of dread creeping in as he glanced around, trying to shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He turned to check one of the cameras, and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw movement. Freddy and Chica stood at the end of the hallway, their eyes glowing ominously. Mike’s breath caught in his throat. He turned back to face them fully, and they remained still, their mechanical bodies poised as if ready to pounce.

A chill ran down his spine. Slowly, he backed away, keeping his eyes on the faint sound of metal footsteps following him from behind. As he turned to continue down the hallway, he could hear each step he took was echoed by a heavier, more deliberate step.

Mike’s pulse quickened. He reached a junction in the hall and quickly glanced over his shoulder. Freddy and Chica were closer now, their unblinking eyes locked onto him. Panic set in as he realized they were not going to stop.

They were hunting him.

Desperately, he ducked into a side room, hoping to lose them. He pressed his back against the wall, breathing heavily. He could hear the animatronics approaching, their footsteps growing louder. Just as he thought he might have a moment to gather his thoughts, a familiar yet unsettling sound filled the air.

Bonnie’s voice echoed through the hallway, singing a romantic song that was entirely out of the situation. The melody was slow and haunting, the lyrics about love and companionship clashing with the terror that gripped Mike’s heart.

“This isn’t happening,” Mike whispered to himself, trying to steady his nerves.

The song seemed to embolden Freddy and Chica, who now stood at the doorway of the room, blocking his escape. Freddy stepped forward, and Mike knew he had to act fast. He grabbed a nearby chair and swung it at Freddy, the impact sending a shower of sparks flying. Freddy staggered but quickly regained its footing.

Mike darted past Freddy, the chair now a makeshift shield as he tried to fend off Chica. Chica’s cupcake jumped from her hand and lunged at him, mouth snapping dangerously close to his face. Mike shoved the chair into its path, momentarily halting it’s advance. He could hear Bonnie’s song growing louder, the romantic tung becoming more contorted by the second.

He managed to push past Chica and bolted down the hallway. His mind raced, filled with thoughts regarding Abby and you. He needed to find you both and make sure you were safe, he couldn’t let them get to you.

He called out for Abby, his voice echoing through the empty corridors.

“Abby? Where are you?” he called, his heart pounding in his chest.

There was no response, and his anxiety grew. He quickened his pace, checking every room he passed. His mind raced with thoughts of what could happen if he didn’t find her soon.

Finally, he heard a faint sound coming from one of the vents.

He saw a vent grate hanging loosely from the wall.

He knelt down and peered inside, relief flooding through him when he saw Abby’s face.

There was a moment of silence before he heard a faint reply. “Mike? I’m here.”

Relief washed over him, Abby was safe, at least for now. But he couldn’t linger. He had to to stay hidden and quickly moved on, his mind focused on finding you. He told Abby to stay hidden as he went to search for you.

The building seemed to close in around him as he kept moving, the oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on his shoulders. The sound of Bonnie’s song still echoed faintly, a constant reminder of the danger he faced. Every shadow seemed to move, every creak of the building made him jump.

దదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదదద

As you left the office, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you. The dimly lit hallway stretched out before you, shadows, dancing cerily along the walls. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you headed towards the storage room to check on some squipment. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant hum of the animatronics.

As you walked, the hairs on the back hoping to get back off your neck stood up. Something wasn't right. You quickened your pace to the office quickly. But as you rounded a corner, you came face to face with Foxy.

The animatronic stood in the middle of the hallway, its eyes glowing with a sinister light. Foxy's hook glinted menacingly in the faint light, and its mechanical jaw clicked as it opened and closed. Your heart pounded in your chest as you took a step back, the fear gripping you like a vice.

Before you could react, Foxy lunged at you with a speed that belied its clunky frame. You barely managed to dodge, stumbling and falling to the ground. Foxy's hook slashed through the air where your head had been moments before, the sound of metal slicing through the air sending chills down your spine.

You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline surging through your veins. Foxy turned to face you, its eyes locked onto you with an unsettling intensity.

The hallway offered little in the way of weapons or cover, but you spotted a loose metal pipe on the floor. Grabbing it, you held it up defensively.

Foxy advanced, its footsteps heavy and deliberate. You swung the pipe, aiming for its head, but Foxy caught it with its hook, the metal screeching as it bent under the pressure. With a swift motion, Foxy yanked the pipe from your hands and tossed it aside.

Panic set in as you backed away, your mind racing for a plan. Foxy lunged again, and you ducked, narrowly avoiding its grasp. You dashed down the hallway, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Foxy was relentless, its pursuit unyielding.

As you ran, you glanced over your shoulder and saw Foxy closing the distance.

Your heart sank as you realized there was no way you could outrun it.

You needed to find a way to slow it down.

Spotting a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall, you pulled the pin and sprayed the extinguisher’s contents directly at its face.

The thick cloud of foam obscured Foxy’s vision, and it stumbled, momentarily disoriented. Seizing the opportunity, you turned and ran again, your legs burning with the effort.

You could hear Foxy behind you, the sound of its mechanical limbs cutting through the foam. You turned another corner and found yourself in a dead-end hallway.

Desperation clawed at you as you searched for an escape. There was a maintenance closet nearby, and you darted inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

The small, cramped space offered little comfort. The sound of Foxy’s heavy footsteps growing louder with each passing second. Your mind raced, trying to think of a way out. The closet was filled with tools and supplies, but nothing that seemed useful against an animatronic.

Foxy’s silhouette appeared in the small window of the door, its glowing eyes scanning the room. You held your breath, praying it wouldn’t find you. But Foxy wasn’t fooled. With a powerful kick, it shattered the door in seconds and stepped inside.

You grabbed a wrench from a nearby shelf and swung it with all your might. The wrench connected with Foxy’s head, but it barely seemed to faze the animatronic. Foxy grabbed you with its hook, lifting you off the ground and slamming you against the wall.

Pain shot through your body, and you gasped for breath. Foxy’s grip tightened, and you could feel the cold metal pressing into your skin.

“Hey! Over here!”

It was Mike.

He stood at the entrance of the closet, a determined look on his face. He held the wrench that fell from your hand and without hesitation, he charged at Foxy.

“Let go!” Mike shouted, swinging with all his strength, hitting Foxy’s arm. The animatronic released you, turning its attention to Mike.

You stumbled back, trying to catch your breath as you moved your hand to where the hook was previously.

There is blood on your hand.

Foxy lunged at Mike, its hook slashing through the air. Mike barely managed to dodge, the hook grazing his shoulder and tearing his shirt.

The pain was sharp, but Mike couldn’t afford to slow down. He swung the wrench again, aiming for Foxy’s head. The impact sent Foxy reeling, its mechanical parts whirring and sparking.

The pain that you felt when you stood up was an electric jolt of surprise and hurt. You grabbed fire extinguisher and joined in to help Mike recover, spraying Foxy with what was left and adding to its confusion.

Working together, you and Mike managed to push Foxy out of the office and lock the door. The animatronic pounded on the door, its mechanical growls echoing through the room. You and Mike leaned against the door, breathing heavily.

You could still feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. Mike leaned against the door, his chest heaving, eyes darting around the room as if expecting Foxy to burst through any second.

For a moment, the world outside the office ceased to exist, It was just the two of you, alive and breathing, a small miracle in this place of nightmares. You took a step towards Mike, your legs trembling, and before you could second-guess yourself, you wrapped your arms around him. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, choked with emotion.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

Mike's arms encircled your waist, pulling you close. His grip was firm, almost desperate, as if he needed the contact as much as you did.

He buried his face in your shoulder, and you felt his breath warm against your skin. "I've got you," he murmured, his voice rough yet soothing. "I won't let anything happen to you"

The moment stretched, the horrors outside momentarily forgotten as you found solace in each other's embrace.

But reality soon intruded.

You pulled back slightly, enough to look into his eyes. "We need a plan."

Mike nodded, his expression hardening with determination. He released you reluctantly, his hand lingering on your waist for a moment before turning to the desk where the security monitors flickered.

“We need to be more careful, why are they even attacking us?” you said, your voice shaking slightly.

“They probably want Abby. I should have never brought her back here”

“We need to find Abby,” Mike said, his mind already moving to the next task. “She’s hiding in a vent, but we can’t leave her there”

"Let's see where they are," he said, flipping through the camera feeds with practiced efficiency.

The grainy images jumped from one room to another, the animatronics captured in various states of eerie stillness and movement. Freddy's glowing eyes stared into the camera from the main stage, while Chica loomed in the dining area, her beak open in a perpetual grin. Foxy was nowhere to be seen, likely lurking somewhere in the shadows, waiting for his next chance.

Mike's jaw clenched as he scanned the screens. "Okay," he said, pointing to the feed showing the hallway leading back to the main room. "We'll take this route. It's the shortest, and we can keep an eye on the cameras to avoid them."

You nodded, your mind racing through the plan. "If we time it right, we can slip past them. Freddy and Chica seem to be staying put for now. It's Foxy we need to watch out for"

Mike's eyes met yours, and despite the fear gnawing at your insides, you felt a surge of confidence.

He squeezed your shoulder, a silent reassurance, and you took a deep breath, readying yourself for the next harrowing ordeal.

"Let's do this," Mike said, his voice resolute. You nodded, your resolve hardening. With one last check of the cameras, you unlocked the door.

Mike led the way, his jaw set in determination, while you kept a wary eye on the surrounding darkness, your heart pounding in your chest. As you turned a corner, a faint sound reached your ears - a soft, muffled sobbing.

You glanced at Mike, and he nodded, his expression tight with worry. The sound was coming from a vent near the floor.

Kneeling down, you peered into the vent and saw Abby's tear-streaked face staring back at you. Relief washed over you as you reached out to her. "Abby, it's okay. It's us," you said softly.

Abby crawled out, her small body trembling with fear. Mike scooped her up in his arms, holding her close. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice choked with sobs. "I just wanted you both to be happy."

You exchanged a worried glance with Mike, but there was no time to dwell on it. "Let's get back to the room," Mike said, his voice firm but gentle. You nodded, and together, the three of you made your way back to the room you had separated from earlier.

As you entered, the sight of the cupboard caught your attention immediately. There was a new drawing placed there, the paper stark against the dark wood. You touched Mike's arm, drawing his gaze. "Look," you whispered, pointing to the drawing. You both stepped closer, your apprehension growing with each step.

The drawing was unmistakably Abby's work, created with the bright colors and bold lines characteristic of a child's hand. It depicted two figures, clearly meant to be you and Mike, holding hands. The figure representing Mike had short, brown hair, wearing the security guard uniform.

The other figure, representing you, had the smile that Abby always liked to draw, wearing the casual outfit she often saw you in.

Surrounding the two figures were numerous hearts. The hearts seemed to pulse with an innocent vibrancy, a child's attempt to depict love and happiness.

However, what drew your eye with a chilling inevitability was the red paint used for the hearts. It was still fresh, glistening under the light, and it started to drip, creating the illusion that the two figures were covered in blood.

The paint ran down the paper in thin rivulets, staining the bright colors beneath and creating a macabre contrast to the otherwise joyful scene.

You felt a cold chill run down your spine as the realization dawned.

The animatronics' erratic behavior, their attempts to bring you and Mike together, all stemmed from Abby's innocent wish. She had wanted you and Mike to be happy together and had turned to her 'friends' for help.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as sldded, her small body shaking with sobs. "I just wanted you both to be happy. I thought they could help."

Abby whispered, her voice trembling “I didn’t mean for anything bad to happen.”

The frustration and fear you had been holding in boiled over. “Abby, you could have been hurt! We could have been hurt. Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is?”

Ably flinched at your tone, her eyes filling with tears, “I didn’t know... I’m really sorry.”

Seeing Abby like this made your heart ache. God, this was all too much.

You turned and stormed out of the building, needing a moment to clear your head. The cool night air hit your face, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere inside.

Mike watched you go, he handed back the drawing on the cupboard to Abby before taking hold of Abby’s hand and following you outside.

“Wait here” he told her after closing the gates behind him. Abby nodded, sniffling “Okay, Mike.”

His footsteps echoing softly in the night. He found you standing by the edge of the parking lot, staring out into the darkness. Your shoulders were tense, and he could see the struggle in your eyes as you tried to calm down.

“Hey,” he said softly, approaching you cautiously while slipping his hands inside of his pockets. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, tears of frustration and fear spilling over. “No, I’m not okay, Mike. We could have died in there. You could have died. Abby could have died. And for what? A silly drawing”

Mike’s heart ached at seeing you so distressed. “I know. I know it’s scary. But we’re okay. We’re all okay.”

“But what if we’re not next time? What if they decide one day to just kill us?” you shot back, your voice trembling “What if we don’t make it out? I’m so scared, Mike. I’m scared for Abby. I’m scared for you. I’m scared for all of us.”

Mike reached out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m scared too. But we’re in this together. We’ve always been in this together”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I just...I can’t lose you, Mike. I can’t lose Abby. This place it’s just too much for me”

Mike’s eyes softened as he looked at you, his heart pounding.

“You’re not going to lose us. I promise. There’s something I need to tell you.”

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I care about you. A lot. More than just a friend. I’ve been wanting for a long time, but I never found the right moment.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, the intensity of his words cutting through your fear. “Mike...”

He continued, his voice filled with emotion. “You mean so much to me. You’re strong, brave, and you make me feel like I can face anything. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of a different kind.

Mike took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently wipe away your tears. “We’re going to get through this. Together. I promise.”

You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of relief and comfort. “I just want us all to be safe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he said softly. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The two of you stood there in the cool night air, the weight of the night’s events slowly lifting. The bond between you felt stronger than ever, forged in the fires of fear and survival.

Just then, you heard a small voice behind you. Abby tugged at your sleeve, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you two going to kiss now?"

You exchanged a glance with Mike, both of you blushing furiously. You moved closer to him while he was looking at Abby with a typical older-brother stare and pressed your lips to his in a tender kiss.

He did not expected that.

"That's for saving me."

Mike stood there, extremely flustered from the kiss “th-thanks." He stammered.

Abby giggled with joy, clapping her hands. "Yay! You're together now!"

Mike quickly composed himself, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Alright, how about a race to the car? Whoever gets there first wins!"

Abby's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes! Let's do it!"

Mike started to count. Near the end, he suddenly grabbed your wrist, stopping you from sprinting while Abby ran towards the car without looking behind.

Before you could react, he pulled you close and kissed you deeply, his lips conveying all the passion and emotion he had been holding back.

When he finally released you, you stood there, breathing heavily, your cheeks flushed and your heart racing. Now it was your turn to be flustered, staring into Mike's eyes with a mixture of surprise and affection.

"Mike, I..." you began, but he just smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"We should probably catch up with Abby," he said, still holding your hand.

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. Together, you walked to the car, hand in hand. Abby's laughter echoed in the distance as she celebrated her victory.

Notes: Changed a bit from the usual type of stuff I write, I just really enjoy writing stuff like fights and survival. Sorry if you’re not really interested in this things. Hope you enjoyed it :)

[theredofoctober]

RUMPLESTILTSKIN— An Oliver Quick/Reader Saltburn DarkFic

Pairing: Oliver Quick/You, Oliver Quick/Reader (no gender specified, terms like pretty are used though just to mention)

Synopsis: Oliver finds You, the awkward guest at his birthday party, and takes what his dark heart desires.

Trigger Warnings (PLEASE READ): noncon, blood play, Oliver just being evil

Fic under the cut, keep reading

"Who are you, then?"

It was the small man that said it, the one with the slurring Nothern accent and eyes like ice picks, palely sharp.

You'd seen him swaying on the outer edge of the party, seeming both drunk and far too sober, all at once.

His face was odd, flat, and sleek, like a trickster in a German folk story: thief of children, bringer of gold.

You hated the boy in a moment, drawing back from him against a trellis, your hands wrapped fast through the slats. His eyes made you wish you'd drunk rather less than you had done, silver as scissor blades in the swelling night.

"I'm one of Venetia's friends," you said, though you knew Felix more, and Farleigh rather better than you liked to. "You don't know me. Who are you?"

The boy stepped around a plant pot, his balance the measure of sobriety. He wore deer antlers with an open-chested white suit, embroidered with leaves, the dress of a more handsome man. Only the slopes of his cheekbones, the soft mouth were beautiful.

His eyes made an autopsy of you. There was nothing in them but wanting, a starving colour. An absence of it.

You would have turned to run, only there was nothing then to fly from that made sense.

"I'm Oliver," said the young man. "It's my birthday party. Felix's family arranged it all for me."

"Happy birthday," you said, at once, a reflex.

You wished that he'd go away, that he would edge into the maze like a shadow thrown by the sun, and meld with the dark of the leaves beyond. Anything but approach as he did then, his compact form eating of the air between you with carnivorous haste.

He was slight enough that you thought you might push him down or aside with little effort, but the poise of him, as delicate as a barber's blade, gave you pause. He'd cut you if you touched him, you thought. Something would happen, and you would run crying as you had from a dozen birthday celebrations as a child, unwanted.

He brought that old vulnerability up out of you, somehow, though he hadn't yet done much but broach the most innocent of smalltalk.

"How come you're over here, on your own?" asked Oliver, his head at a sympathetic incline. "You're too pretty for that. You know that, don't you?"

His voice was a sing-song croon, then, all silken menace. He was trying to charm you, you knew that, yet you saw as though through the beads of a brothel doorway the hunger in him, the appetite of worlds.

You glanced right and left, realising, with an awful start, how very drunk you were, swaying and stupid with it.

"I needed some fresh air," you said, with a high, braying laugh— Oliver half-smirked at the sound of it, knowing its falseness, knowing your fear. "All that bloody champagne went right to my head."

"You'll need someone to look after you, then," said Oliver, and then he uttered your name, making a baleful ditty of its syllables.

How had he known it? Had he known it all along?

You'd glimpsed him watching you, before, an empty glass in hand, attaching himself to your heels like a stoat after a rabbit, all lithe cunning on the hunt. Likely he'd heard your name then, as Felix had bent down to kiss your cheek, all affable golden looks. Heard it, and slipped it into the pocketbook of his mind to tear free, when it was needed.

Your name was pretty on Oliver's tongue, sugar, and ribbon, and stained glass, as apt to break. Happily you'd have taken the pieces and cast them all out into the riverbed, have gone nameless rather than hear him speak it again.

"You don't know anyone else here, do you?" asked Oliver, and there was the word again, no longer ribbon, but rough as a noose, strangling as he came closer still. "Just the Catton family. Something in common, me and you."

You lurched vaguely to the right, and Oliver's arm came up against the trellis, gently, a tender trap.

"You're lonely," he said. "Haven't you always been, though?"

His face was close enough for you to note the punctuation of a mole on his right cheek, the lines at his brow, the riddled literature of him. What he saw in yours was a portal to the past, all features from the nervous mouth to the twitching eyelids telling of a once bullied child, an outcast brought in through charity from the cold.

"Go away, Oliver," you said, bravely. "I want to be alone. I can't breathe."

That was true enough. You were stifled in your plastic wings and ill-fitting garments, sweating and airless, almost wanting to be sick.

Oliver drew his face nearer, and your throat closed to the breadth of a lock in your dread of him, of those ink spill eyes.

"I don't want you to breathe," he said. "Not right now."

Then he darned his lips to yours, their heat, their softness like the death of summer blooms, and you pressed back into the trellis so hard that you thought the wood might break, so brittle did it seem.

You brought up your hands to battle his shoulders, only for them to be joined with his, your fingers tangling, a torsion of slick skin and bone.

There were no thoughts that survived the cruelty of Oliver's embrace, the insistence of his compact strength, the length of tongue, of arousal under clothing, at your thigh. You wanted to snap free of him like a spell, but he kissed you until your fight withdrew in sight of its fair winner.

No one came close enough to see you, or if they did they thought you drunken lovers, poised to consummate your pash against the fence.

At last Oliver moved back his head, the reflection of the night's obsidian in his mortuary eyes.

"Let me go," you whispered. "I don't want to do this. I don't want you."

"Well, I want you, though," said Oliver, with an authority that frightened you in its unshifting weight. "And since nobody else here does, what's the point in saying no?"

His hands, little and wicked, wore their way under clammy layers of clothes. In all the heat they were almost cold, dragging from you a series of ragged gasps that were lost in the revelling darkness.

You wished the wings at your back were feathered, those of swans; they'd have broken the bones in his arm and you out of this, far lovelier a transportation than the sticky taxi that would bear you home in the hours to come.

Yet had such pretty things hung from your back this beast named Oliver would have bitten them off and flossed their quills through his teeth, you knew it.

He touched you until his findings were of stolen treasure, watching your every tendon solidify to strands of stone through the art of such fell grief.

"You weren't what I came looking for tonight, you know," he said. "But you're mine, anyway."

You didn't answer, imagined any word drowned like a cat in the depths of him.

Oliver stepped into you with a dancing softness and kissed you again, sucking a plum welt into your lower lip, breaking it between his teeth to blood. Again you struck your hands against him, but Oliver, with liquid instinct, pushed your arms back through the apertures in the trellis, caring little for the splinters in your wrists, if at all.

Crucifixion could not be so painful, so martyring as your capture beneath him.

"Oliver," you said, and he smiled.

"That's me. The birthday boy. And what does the birthday boy get?"

He opened your costume with the hook of four fingers, touched the bruised rose of princely lips to your ear.

His breath was smoke, and champagne, and stolen blood.

"I get what I want," he said, and then his cock was an arrow at the heart of your waiting horror, his slight hips a harp played against you, moving in the strum of entry, into the gold he made of your pain.

You screamed, and the sound was devoured by the bacchanal night. Oliver took you slowly, with patient intelligence, feeling each trembling agony of your body and twisting it, by sorcery, into something else. His eyes were a witch's orbs through which he knew you, psychic, solipsistic—

You were ivy about the wand of him, a thing that would poison the man, were he not immune to its effects. He fucked you as though he thought it romantic, somehow, this violence in a friend's pungent garden, the scent of flowers and trodden grass and arousal a perfume to woo.

There was blood on both of your faces, on his bare chest, under the blazer. It frightened you, suddenly, a tarot spread of death in the summer night—

Your panic, the heaviness of lingering champagne, the attack like Zeus upon a swan; all of it made you limp, in Oliver's grip.

He paused in his taking of you to hold you upright, studying your face under the Midas yellow of a nearby lamp.

"Stand up straight for me, now," he said. "And look at me. Look at me."

He tapped your cheek— not a slap, far too soft for that, as though the concern in the vicious gossamer in his voice was real.

"You want me to make you feel good about yourself. Need me. Don't you?"

"No," you said, but as Oliver kissed you again, and a firework shrieked somewhere against your eardrum, you lost what temporary power you'd had to resist him.

Like a spindled sleeper you endured his lovemaking, swallowed his tongue like a precious key. Your body was a pulse in deep water, stirred by hands and cock into a dripping arc.

Oliver moaned against your tattered lips, his arms about you in embrace. The heat of him would follow you, afterwards, the haunting of his lust's smoke from dream to dream.

He moved away from you, aided you in pulling your arms back through the trellis. For a moment he tried to hold you, his murmuring at your hair, its comfort indistinct.

Then, as you ripped him from you like the segment of a rotten apple he wiped himself clean of your blood; the rag he used was something torn from your garments in the fury of his love, a token of it. A thread from the maze.

You sat down in the grass and stared up at Oliver, seeking some answer. Assistance from the breaker of will.

"Go home," he said, at last. "Felix doesn't want you. And now—"

Oliver shook his head, and the peat fire of his eyes was of the underworld, then, of sapphire death gone to ash.

"I don't want you either. Not anymore."

Then he turned from you, and walked away, towards the house, his fey shape a shadow puppet on the wall.

[bonefall]

I'm sitting and looking at somebody's take about the scene of Willow Tail's death

"Clear Sky is fabulous here, and the deaths look karmic. Willow Tail dies blind bc she was so blinded by her wish of revenge she put innocent cats under threat and led to deaths of a medicine cat and an innocent kit. And Wind Runner, who prevented Moth Flight from saving Tiny Branch, lost a life to an injured leg just like he did. Beautiful."

Ig I'll just leave it here like a tribute

"the deaths look karmic" is the only correct thing in this passage. Yes, the writers ARE obsessed with punishing women, gruesomely zooming in on how much pain and suffering they're feeling when those horrible bitches finally get their comeuppance. Glad they can at least recognize torture porn when they see it.

Go one baby step further-- why do the writers keep choosing to frame the women as primarily responsible when Clear Sky is the same violent, egotistical tyrant he always was?

Willow Tail does die blinded-- by Clear Sky. The way he is constantly brutalizing every woman and foreigner in front of him. Just like how he was smacking Moth Flight before he ordered Red Claw to go up into the tree to beat the shit out of Micah and confiscate medicine, because he doesn't care when people die of treatable illness.

But, sure. Sure, it's Willow Tail who caused the death of Micah, when she sees Moth Flight's face sliced open by a known serial murderer and jumps to her defense, and then learns that Red Claw has been ordered to attack a doctor.

For those who haven't read Moth Flight's Vision, btw, Willow Tail is revealed to be the villain all along because she was planting rabbit bones on the border. This made Clear Sky mad because Wind Runner said "make your cats respect the borders YOU invented, bc MY cats didn't eat those rabbits" and she didn't just accept his answer of "nuh uh."

That's why it's totally the WOMEN'S fault that Clear Sky was throwing this tantrum, and not his own. Being offended is a totally valid reason to deny medical treatment and do assault and battery. Why would you ever hold a man in a position of power accountable for his own actions?

Wind Runner also didn't kill Tiny Branch through medical neglect. Clear Sky did. Can't believe I'm still saying this.

HE was the one who prevented Acorn Fur from getting help. He keeps insisting that he never needed Micah or any other foreigner to heal Tiny Branch's ailments. He didn't want Micah when it was a cough, and he didn't want Moth Flight when it was a fox attack.

-Said in the Sap Confiscation Scene

-Said as Tiny Branch is dying, confirming that yes, he DID stop her from getting the help right away.

Wind Runner PROPOSED an embargo at a meeting that SkyClan was absent for, AFTER Clear Sky had already insisted on denying medical treatment to Rocky and got Micah killed. Wind Runner's hypothetical embargo was broken less than a minute later when it's revealed SkyClan was late by several hours because Tiny Branch got attacked by a fox.

Here's how long they're held up by Wind Runner, though. All 214 words, less than a full page in dialogue, of it.

How long would you guess this took? Was everyone here speaking at 0.025 speed? Did someone hit the slow motion button? Were they escaping out of a time bubble?

Why's Shattered Ice never mentioned as killing Tiny Branch, btw? The one who actually did physically hold up Moth Flight (but not the other three Medicine cats, Dappled Pelt, Cloud Spots, and Pebble Heart), even if it was for less than 30 seconds? When he's not even from Wind Runner's Clan? CURIOUS INNIT?

I need to remind you that he was also responsible for preventing Acorn Fur from being fully trained. That was HIS choice. HE closed the border. HE stopped Moth Flight from completing Acorn Fur's training. HE is in the middle of a book-length hissy fit about being told what to do.

And, yet, Moth Flight is held up for less than 5 minutes after Clear Sky forced Acorn Fur to save his son alone until signs of infection set in, and this is all Wind Runner's fault.

So he later kidnaps Moth Flight, expecting Wind Runner to just trust that THIS time he takes a hostage he's not starving them like he did to Jackdaw's Cry, and not launch the two Clans into war. Redemption arc, btw.

And then he gets to be framed like a hero even though he is 100% responsible for every single one of his actions and escalated the situation at every turn. ZERO consequences for him, because him letting his own baby suffer and die was "punishment enough."

The bloodthirsty tyrant, child abuser, woman beater, and known liar was totally justified because It Made Him Sad When Wind Runner Didn't Trust His Word :( This was all actually an evil, scheming woman's fault for planting bunny bones, lol. So she totally deserves getting her eyes ripped out.

At MOST, the narrative considers Wind Runner and Clear Sky "Equally Bad", but only Wind Runner and Willow Tail get personally punished. With death and agony. Surely, SURELY this is not because of writer misogyny? In the Arc of 7 Fridgenings? Perish the thought.

Anyway, glad that I've curated my dash enough to not see that take out there in the wild. Who would even write something so ridiculous, Gray Wing?

[kivaember]

i just wanted rusty to yell worm

-

Rusty paid little notice to the PCA's System droning over the spaceport's failing network, its feminine voice rasping with static and its syllables stated with clinical flatness. He was more focused on his heart beating rabbit-fast in his chest, uncomfortably hot as his body came down from the adrenaline rush of going toe-to-toe with the PCA's most cutting-edge mech.

He'd grown too reliant on STEEL HAZE's nimbleness. The 'HC' he had fought had been just as nimble and precise, its feet never touching the ground as the gigantic boosters installed on its shoulders gave the mechanical impression of wings, elegant and authorative when combined with its sleek body.

He wouldn't be surprised if the PCA named those mechs 'Archangels' or something equally pretentious, Rusty thought darkly. Their cold guardians wielding burning blades of plasma, and cutting down the innocent sinners fighting to survive in a scorched eden, condemned for the simple sin of living.

"Tired," Rusty mumbled, realising the caustic poeticness of his own thoughts. He always did find his mind travelling in odd directions after a hard battle. "But at least that should be the end of it."

The PCA's System had finally shut up for once, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. Rusty cast a quick glance over his HUD, seeing nothing but the blinking blue dot of Raven's AC somewhere out of sight. The battlefield they had fought the HCs was a twisted maze of two collapsed warships, debris crafting towering walls of bent metal that threatened to topple over from a too-powerful gust of wind. Rusty's HUD indicated Raven was somewhere slightly elevated. On one of the crashed ships?

He activated their comms, wondering what Raven was up to. Maybe it was a little self-centred to point it out so bluntly, but after a successful shared sortie, Raven usually came gamboling up to him with a muted sort of eagerness. It was odd for him to simply wander off without (figuratively) saying a word.

"Hey, buddy," he said. "What're you-"

The ground trembled minutely, and a few of those towering metal walls shuddered warningly, their shrieks drowning out his words. Rusty tensed, but his HUD didn't indicate an artillery strike or an orbital bombardment. Tectonic activity, maybe? The Central Ice Fields were prone to devastating earthquakes every few years or so. They had caused the earth to swallow up more than a few old cities, the capital included.

Another tremble, more violent, and one metal wall collapsed with a tremendous crash. One of the shipwrecks started to peel apart as well, its broken skeleton causing the already split hill to fall away from the continuous vibrations.

"Buddy, we need to go," Rusty said, keeping his tone calm but threaded with a taut urgency. STEEL HAZE leapt upwards in a boost-assisted jump, and he chanced a glance towards Raven - seeing his AC standing atop of the sturdier shipwreck, staring East-Northeast.

"Buddy," he said again when Raven stayed in place. He made STEEL HAZE hover, a hint of impatience in his voice as the vibrations grew worse: "This place isn't tectonically safe. We need to-"

«Worm.»

What?

Rusty stared at that word blinking across his HUD in open bafflement. He opened his mouth slowly, wondering if the vibrations had Raven mistyped, and asked: "W-"

The ground exploded in a shower of frozen rock and cement, a metallic groan-shriek reverbing through the air in deafening volume. The snow that plumed upwards with the explosion created a brief obscuring haze, but it quickly thinned, revealling something huge- no, massive, towering, jet-black, rusting metal coated in permafrost, its flat head bending low towards them, a great, massive, unearthly-!

"Worm?!" Rusty blurted in disbelief, and was very nearly crushed as a result when said worm promptly bellyflopped at them.

-

Later, far later, after the pang of terror at coming face to, err, face with an ancient C-Weapon capable of squashing him like an ant unintentionally had faded, and a sharper, colder fear at realising the entity was utterly impervious to any and all weaponry, Rusty was forced to sit in a dark meeting room with the other Vespers where they reviewed the Ice Worm's first appearance.

Forced to sit there, and listen to his past-self's high-pitched, comically startled shriek of "woRM?!?!" echo over his combat log's recording, as said worm aimed a deadly bellyflop his way.

He hadn't died, obviously... but it would've been one embarrassing way to die, in retrospect.

"...worm," Pater mumbled under his breath. A muted, not-quite titter rippled through the rest of the Vespers - sans Snail, of course - and Rusty had to fight the urge to sink low in his seat until he disappeared entirely underneath the table.

Would've been even more embarrassing to have 'worm' as his last word, though.

[bulletfestival]

↑ Winner At Life

↑ Dead Parrot