#but fleshed it out today

[dovewingkinnie]

genuinely so excited to share this new story im making but its gonna be a bit... must figure out The Lore a bit more

[mitchievousness]

hey what the FUCK is up with the svsss flesh creatures??????

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: injury mention / jokes about death / ]

Love when people depict Leo like-

Leo, covered in grievous wounds and having several broken bones: Ew, Staten Island? Anyway lmao that sucked-

Leo, with a paper cut: My LIFE is OVER I am SUFFERING I am DYING I leave all my comics to Mikey, Raph gets my posters and figurines, April can have everything else in my room, I guess Dad can have my swords, Donnie you get NOTHING until you admit I was RIGHT back when-

[limonjarritos]

I think if Rody didn't have Manon to obsess over and therefore for Vince to make her into food for Rody I still think Vince would go cannibalism route. Like I think we're talking Vince giving a small piece of himself to be eaten by Rody as a form of love, just want to make that clear. This man is not normal.

I also think if Rody did have an obsession with Vince, he would have given a piece of himself for Vince to eat. He is all about giving the most to his partner even at the detriment to himself. He would hand over the whole of himself.

[hinamie]

Boob window aside, having an avatar who fucking sucked is such a cool idea???????? The possibilities and the worldbuilding consequences???????? Your minds??????????

(also im not sure how i'll cope with waterbending megumi, the concept is making me go 😭💙😭💙😭💙😭)

HFJJGF YA sukuna....a symbol of peace...in charge of maintaining the spiritual balance of the world............truly What cld go wrong (lots) . Fire nation absolutely reeling they want to reroll so bad he did them so dirty

also re: waterbender megu ,,, heeeeheeeehhehhehehe ok listen. ik this means nothing coming from me bc im chronically obsessed with megumi no matter the context but . let me just say tht out of everything we have planned, the stuff with megumi is BY FAR my favourite :)

naturally it will still hurt tho :3

[fastcardotmp3]

welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words

Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.

That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.

Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.

That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?

Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.

And so he spirals.

He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.

Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?

(God, please let it be temporary.)

He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.

Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.

Steve's not built for it!

They'd had a shitty fucking dress.

"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."

The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.

"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."

"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.

There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.

Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.

There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.

There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.

"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."

Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.

"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.

"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"

Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.

"Bad dress, good show though, right?"

Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.

"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."

It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.

"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"

"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.

"She didn't retire."

"Oh. She...?"

"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."

Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.

"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.

"The what?" Steve balks.

"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.

"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.

"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.

"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."

Steve sucks in a breath.

It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.

It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.

“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”

Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.

“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”

Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.

And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.

[nedeii]

[screamingcrows]

Ceteris paribus - Dottore x reader

Note: Shhh it's almost 2am... This is.. yeah, this is something that's for sure. I'll uhh spread Aspergillus niger in your home if you use this for ai or similar. Tags: Dottore x fem!reader, afab reader, smut, porn with plot, plot with porn?, angst, teyvat speculation if you squint (don't), 4.5k Ceteris paribus - 'if everything else remains the same' Minors DNI

Faintly glowing nilotpala lotuses floated like stars, dotting the vast abyss of water. The sight you made among them had proclamations of divinity weighing on his tongue. Bathed in pale moonlight, your beauty was not something to be examined and explained, as much as the urge remained present, but rather a phenomena to simply enjoy.

Zandik found your form to hold his gaze hostage; not that he would willingly turn his head away even if he could. Glittering droplets gathered and trailed down your skin, mapping out a canvas of stars that he would soon enough pluck from your body and immortalize in the sky. Replacements would be needed after all, and what better substitute than something as beautiful as the natural patterns and grooves of the human body?

Standing by the edge of the dark pool of water, the thought of seeing it open up and swallow you whole wasn't too far-fetched. Already, countless leaves had drifted through the air and, upon touching the surface, been pulled under by some unseen force.

Or by curious fish.

Seeing you there alone made him wish for a heart to flutter, hands already undoing the straps of his outfit despite earlier proclamation of only following to keep watch. What harm could there be in letting himself - letting you both - have one last certain indulgence?

There was a flicker of doubt in his mind, would it be a more favorable outcome if you were to disappear into the abyss for that moment? Though every prediction and every piece of information that had been painstakingly gathered pointed towards the burning itself being harmless, there were always pesky variables and inevitable outliers.

Both part of the thrill and a curse, the world rarely operated precisely within the expectations of theory.

Zandik had no doubt that he would survive both the torching and the resulting onslaught, but you? A mourning flower, watered by adversity and flourishing despite it, resilient to a fault and yet just as delicate and fleeting as all purely organic life.

There were many things that he was happy to put to rest with the old world, but he would not let you be one.

His thoughts shifted with his position, body having gradually grown accustomed to the cool water that lapped around his ankles, he took a few tentative steps further into the lake. The bottom sloped gently, but he knew better than to charge forward without first feeling around for any sudden drops. A moment of tension as something passed between his calves was replaced with a frown upon seeing your amused expression.

Privacy was impossible with you, even if he was currently the one invading your swim.

"I thought you used to come here all the time," a scoff left his lips at your bubbly voice, warmth spreading to his ears, "has it been so long already that you've forgotten about all the dangerous creatures?"

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, his continued advance sending little waves through the water until he eventually lowered himself fully, relishing the familiar cradle of cool water. In Snezhnaya, the water was ill equipped for any type of leisurely bathing. Aside from the obvious frozen state of the vast majority, it had a sharp quality to it, as though frost resided in each droplet, prepared to bite the minute it touched something foreign.

"What a sharp tongue, careful it doesn't get you in trouble."

Maintaining the same air of superiority proved difficult when every stroke of his arms had water splashing, keenly aware of his tousled hair and the gradual increase in how much of it clung to his face. Seeing you barely suppressing a laugh, Zandik dove beneath the surface, body cutting through the darkness with practiced finesse.

It didn't exactly wash away the turmoil as part of him had dared to hope, but at least it was quiet with the constant press of water against his ears. Floating further ahead was your form, the curvature of your legs outlined by what little light pierced through as they kicked to keep you steady.

Getting close enough to touch, capture a priced catch, he surfaced again, relishing the spray of water from both his hair and your ensuing flailing. The change stung his eyes for a moment before he rubbed away lingering water, keeping the other arm wrapped firmly around your waist.

Always a skittish thing, it was a wonder you'd willingly chosen to stay so close. Not just chosen, he supposed, as you turned in his grasp and reached to wrap around his shoulders, allowing your warmth to seep into his mangled body, you'd insisted on staying against all reason.

Even now, with the false veil hanging by a thread and threatening to crush everything under the weight of its fall, you still steadied the hand holding the scissors. A small smile tugged at his lips, desire stirring to life, when your plush legs wrapped themselves securely around his waist.

Clearly aware of the effect, you seemingly took extra care to 'adjust' the positioning of your hips, intention so apparent that it only served to make his blood run a little hotter. Especially with how your ankles locked to squeeze him further. Clever little devil.

He couldn't help but purr in turn, lamenting the lack of leverage from being bereft of solid ground beneath his feet, "You are far too good," but that could be fixed, "maybe I should start calling you my little lotus?"

The tremble of your chest as you suppressed a giggle was nothing short of elating, palms continuing to languidly rub your sides. Even soaked, your natural scent still reached his nose upon nuzzling against the crook of your neck, crisp as Dawn's apples with an undertone of something a little more heavy.

"And what brought this on?"

"Because," he pressed his lips to the nape of your neck, tightening his hold enough to hopefully make a point, "you've started to smell like them from bathing here every night," his lips parted in a grin at your mumbled proclamation of his status as a 'creep', "and most importantly, you're much like my personal little nilotpala lotus."

With a clear goal in mind, and ignoring your whined protests and delightfully flushed face, bringing you back to solid ground was no difficult task, not even with how you were draped around him. The towels and blanket you'd brought were already neatly laid out where grass started to sprout, as though you'd been expecting this outcome from the beginning.

Perhaps he was somewhat predictable, the notion sending a foreign burst of warmth through him.

Your voice broke the comfortable silence, characteristic impatience for his antics shining through, "you're just not going to elaborate on the comparison?"

Still, you clung to him like some fragile animal, forcing him to carefully balance as he sat down, smirking at little at the perfectly presented opportunity to squeeze your rear in the process.

"And rob you of the joy of solving a mystery?" Zandik merely chuckled at the sting of your palm connecting with his chest, "I was only waiting for you to ask."

"But no long history lessons," your fingers spread out atop his chest, gently pushing him to lay back as if to dangle a reward for expediting the explanation.

"There are several reasons as to why the comparison is fitting," he lowered his voice, hands moving to caress your hips once he'd gotten comfortable on the makeshift pillow of clothes, "one of which being the direct similarity of your softness to that of its petals."

Zandik couldn't resist the urge to chuckle at how you rolled your eyes, a small pinch to your flank bringing your attention back.

It was impossible to resist the urge to gently chide, "Let me finish; but more than anything, they are, supposedly, a reminder from a bygone time. Every night they bloom in remembrance of their past before chaos erupted, yet they continue to persist in the present," a small roll of your hips had a pleasant tingle spread across his skin, "and, I do believe you bring luck as well."

That earned a huff and a kiss.

The stars above came into focus when his head dropped back fully, the feeling of your slick folds rubbing against his hard dick freeing a sound of contentment from his chest. Always so good to him, your labia was already slick with arousal when a shuddering gasp left you. Zandik's eyes fluttered open too late to catch your expression, determination fueling the exact repeat of the motion, dragging your along the veins of his cock until your nub caught against the head and your lips parted around a sigh.

You molded so perfectly against him, thighs shaping against his hipbones, his fingers sinking into the meat of your rear with perfect resistance, your walls practically trying to suck him in. Oh he needed so much more, to taste your essence, take you apart and let you do the same. He needed the weight of your breast in his palm and the softness of your lips contrasting his.

Plans and ideas swirled with ferocity, his own breath growing heavier and the sky practically spinning above, he'd barely noticed the frenzy with which he dragged your hips back and forth. A choked moan reached his ears, a sweet cacophony of your voice and his, mixing when determination set your eyes ablaze and a greedy jerk of your hips your cunt stretch around his gorged tip.

Despite having indulged far more over the years than his schedule should have allowed, the tight fit never failed to steal the air from his lungs. Now, it seemed you'd stolen the ability to breathe itself. White static danced in the corners of his eyes, sharp teeth digging into his own lip to stall the release that threatened to crash over him.

In a show of rare mercy, you passed down the opportunity to gather dirt to blackmail him with later, your thumbs rubbing along his collarbones. The smile you wore was enchanting, tranquility soon following and drowning out his body's cries for release.

Determined not to let the inherent uncertainty of the future rush this, Zandik closed his eyes while slowly guiding you to be fully seated. The little mewls that vanished into the night deserved to be etched in stone and preserved for the next eternity. When your hips rolled the first time, smooth skin still a little wet as it dragged against his hips, it was nothing short of exquisite, unity of both the simplest and most complex character.

The definition of a meaningful connection had shifted from what brought resources and opportunity to something horrendously intangible over the years, the shift pinpointed to a single variable entering his life. A pesky thing, not entirely unlike an infection in how it seemed insistent on wrestling control of his body and mind.

Pleasure built steadily once you'd adjusted, clearly eager from how you'd barely given yourself a moment of respite before lifting yourself back up. Liquid fire spread anew through his veins with every brush of your fingertips, soft as laying in a bed of flowers on the first day of summer. It wouldn't be long before that might be feasible.

Like a man compelled, his fingers moved to tangle in your hair, feeling a smile tug at his lips when your hips stuttered - he would make a snarky comment about it tomorrow. Though the fantasy of your petulant expression and flushed cheeks had anticipation mix with pleasure, right now, the thought consuming the vast majority of his mind was far more primal in nature.

Lost to the present moment, Zandik finally allowed himself to assist your eager movements, occasionally peering into your hazy eyes with no regard for posterity. You were squeezing him perfectly, walls clamping around him whenever he would pull the slightest away.

"Easy darling, save your strength for tomorrow," he brought your wrist to his lips, sucking gently where veins ran just beneath the skin.

A slow thrust had your thighs tightening around his waist, back arching deliciously and inviting Zandik to push himself up, wrapping his lips around a soft breast. The sounds that spilled unabashedly from your lips were downright sinful in their purity.

It was only later, in the afterglow left behind, that he realized how much tension seemed to have left his body during the act, manifested instead as blooming marks on your hips and little bites along your neck. You were presumable caught in the same state of lightness if how your fingers flexed experimentally.

Caught in the shifting leaves, Zandik only noticed your words when they were accompanied by your teeth nipping at his chest, surprised by the worry etched onto your expression. "Do you have faith in all our preparations?"

Understanding ran almost as deep as the bitterness that spread across his tongue, "Faith? What a preposterous notion for the occasion. I trust in myself, in our plans and their inevitable success. Every possible variable above minuscule importance has been carefully monitored for centuries and accounted for."

He hated how, even with arrogance coating his words, you still squeezed his hand a little tighter. Still pressed your body a little closer to soothe.

It made his voice weaker, vulnerable almost, and he hated that it was so far out of his control. "Destroying comes naturally, but what will happen when the thrones fall and the skies collapse has always eluded me. I dedicated myself to seeking beyond the limits to the rules of this world, I know the extent of possibility, but once that has been shattered? Once the rules I know exactly how to subvert have been-"

"We'll figure it out, together," your breath was the first sun of spring, "a new set of rules means plenty of tests to conduct."

A rough chuckle left his lips, even while he could feel the tremble of your body, you attempted to brighten the horizon.

This was unbearable.

How long had it been? Half an hour? Forty minutes? It didn't matter, it was too long. Especially for something as routine as fetching him some damned materials from the storage room.

And not even the one at the other end of the palace! No, it was literally thirty-two steps from the doors to his laboratory to the storage. At least with his own gait, and granted, he had a taller frame than most but-

Again. It didn't matter.

And why was it so warm in the laboratory? Dottore wiped a gloved hand across his brow, near growling at the realization that now he'd have to change them.

Why was everything falling apart? Of course it had to be today of all days.

"Do I have to do everything around here?"

The words were rough in his throat, more of a snarl even to his own ears, but it had the desired effect, countless of heads rising from their work to peer at him.

It took exactly three beats of his mechanically enhanced heart for them to turn their gazes away, frustration bubbling in his throat. Who did they think they were to so blatantly ignore him?

Dottore rolled his shoulders back, making certain that his heels would click obnoxiously against the hard stone floors during his patrol around the room.

It was a plan in two steps. At least it was when it was boiled down to the most basic division.

The old world would burn. The Crimson Moon would supply the necessary spark, quite possibly eager to exact vengeance on the offending power that claimed her sisters. The branches they'd stolen had been engulfed with a vigor not replicated by presenting the flames with any other material.

Glass crashed to the ground and was crushed under the steel toe of his boot. It was a redundant piece anyway. Production and research on Delusions had been halted a few months ago, stocks being enough to supply their troops and a decent amount in reserve.

Once the threads of fate had been severed, the remains of the Third Descender would be used to tether a new possibility. Insignificant by themselves, they would pose no threat, but with all seven in their hands, the oppressor would be sealed away.

The light wasn't searing his eyes today, perhaps they'd finally been replaced with something less intrusive than the glaring whites.

There would be nothing written on the pages that came after.

Just a few more tests.

Papers scattered with a flick of his wrist, clearing out space for the the leatherbound tome in his hands. Old drawings fell from between the pages, things Dottore hadn't seen in decades. Perhaps even longer.

Someone was screaming again. It took a moment for his mind to tune properly in to the sound, a pang of something coursing through him as his own voice rang through the room. Everything seemed to tremble beneath his wrath, even his hands were shaking.

The gloves were black leather, not dotted red with blood.

He hadn't slept for a week had he?

Resigned to the fate of needing to change his gloves anyway, rubbing at the stubble that grew on his chin was a necessary comfort. Just a little longer and all of his work would come to fruition.

Dottore could practically taste the sweetness of your lips. How he yearned to stand beside you and warm his hands by the fire.

Just a little longer and-

-maybe that imbecile of a subordinate would return with his supplies.

His head snapped up when something creaked. Despite several people milling about, it was eerily quiet.

Someone else should have already confirmed the concentration of the isolate, but with how dull everyone seemed as of late, it might be wise to asses it himself. He'd have to do a dilution series, and how many cuvettes would he need?

A curse left Dottore's lips at the same time his hands slammed onto the table. Those were in storage as well weren't they?

His eyes flickered around, pushing away the frustrating shadow in his periphery, a few more days and he'd have time to properly look at whatever had his mask malfunctioning.

The laboratory should be properly insulated, any outside interference was unwanted in a controlled environment such as this.

How many days were left before their plans would be set into motion was a blurred memory, something he would need to check soon.

Nothing seemed remiss in the little village, the sight of children playing with a single kite making your chest feel entirely too tight. The sun continued to shine, clothes already out to dry while the adults tended the gardens nearby. It might be more fitting to call them fields, there was little regard for private property these days, and sharing had proven far easier when the same people had aided in constructing homes, no matter how simple.

Flowers had started blooming as well, their scent a desperately needed change from the smoke that had choked the skies for weeks. With gravel crunching beneath your feet, the unease that coursed through your veins was momentarily stifled.

By all means, Teyvat was at peace.

Though you were on amicable terms with the inhabitants here, they eyed you warily, with varying degrees of pity in their eyes whenever you came to trade. Zandik himself refrained entirely from going, and everyone seemed content to keep him out of sight. Most had come to understand that there was nothing malicious about your partner, but you couldn't blame them for not forgetting the past.

It was an agreeable arrangement, much better than either of you had dared to hope. A small cot in what remained of the forest of what had been Sumeru, a peaceful existence with the sounds of nature providing the backdrop.

Pantalone had settled in the ruins of Liyue, Capitano had perished, Columbina disappeared with Arlecchino… Of all the harbingers, you were grateful for the fate that had been bestowed on your Zandik.

Even if-

A small hand tugging on your skirt nearly startled you, looking down to see an expression of concern etched onto the face of a young boy. With the skies clearing, his skin was already looking far better than last you saw him.

Several other children were huddled around the open space, all shuffling their feet nervously and evidently trying their best not to stare. With time, they'd hopefully forget what they'd seen and never have to cower like this.

"I heard him last night," there was a fair bit of caution in his voice, and you tried to smile reassuringly over your thundering heart, "he went that way… I think…"

Your feet ached from making haste through the dense undergrowth, hands scratched up from the countless times you'd tripped on a loose stone or hidden root. It was ridiculous to get so worked up, he'd been the Second Harbinger, strength to go up against the divine, and he'd won.

But he hadn't been home since yesterday, and that alone had spectral insects crawling beneath your skin and your hearth threatening to flee your chest. Would he come home this time?

Mindless swatting at mostly imaginary insects did nothing to dissipate the fog of anxiety that hung around you. The boy had confirmed your suspicion, unknowingly having pointed towards one of the old underground workshops.

It could be a coincidence of course. Zandik could be sitting bare-footed in a stream just a little further ahead, pulling in brightly colored axe marlins to supply your meals. He could have gotten so absorbed that he'd lost track of time and opted to camp outside rather than stumble through a dark forest.

You were fully aware that it was wishful thinking.

How many times you'd trudged this way was uncertain, fingers skimming the edges of stone that marked an upper corner of the facility. Signs had been put up where the ground had opened up into the complex to avoid anyone carelessly falling in. A knot formed in the pit of your stomach, the sounds of glass shattering reaching your ears from below.

Rubble was scattered in the hallways and opportunistic vines and roots had begun spilling into the vast network. The complex had been abandoned long before the final confrontation with Celestia, a time capsule from when Zandik himself stayed in Sumeru to conduct preliminary studies on the power of dreams and forbidden knowledge. From what you understood, it had served The Doctor and his pursuits well,

It made the air heavy with misplaced gratitude and relief.

Stone knocked against your back as you stumbled aside, startled a sharp pang followed by metallic clatter. Still with your heart in your throat, you staggered forward through the haze of tears clouding your vision.

"Why doesn't it work? It has to work. It should work. Everything is right. It's all correct- I just have to finish it- the deadline!" Another crash, the glass shards no sharper than his continued shouts, "There's so little time left I have to-"

Sparse sunlight filtered through and illuminated the ruins of what must have been a laboratory in its prime. You forced your lungs to work despite how every breath seared your throat. The tentative call of his name gave no result.

Zandik was hunched over a slanted desk, one wooden leg broken and threatening to give out. A few metallic tables were scattered around the room, two of them pushed against a wall as if to block out something. Every cupboard had been opened and the contents of several emptied onto the floor. How much was the work of Zandik, you wondered.

"Why won't anyone listen to me? Don't any of you know how to do your jobs properly? Get me those damn supplies or I'll-" two and a half vial clinked together with every restless knock of his fist against the table, "I'll tie a rope around your waist, throw you into the abyss, and dissect whatever I can pull back out!"

Another breath, hands trembling as they reached for him, fully anticipating the way his body jerked and twisted. It didn't make it any less upsetting.

Zandik sneered when your hands cupped stubbled cheeks, and for a moment you wondered if he'd bite like a rabid beast. You nearly choked on a sob at seeing the crudely folded paper that covered the top of his face, holes haphazardly torn to allow him to see. His hair was dirty and tangled, his clothes in no better state.

Soothing shushes left your lips in a steady stream, thumbs continuing to pet his skin and rub the dust from rubble away, thankful that the artificial lights were long broken. His shirt could be mended and washed.

"Zandik, I need you to-"

He howled like a wounded beast, thrashing when you pushed away his paper mask, "Don't call me that! Useless- useless, you're all useless!"

Even disoriented, his grip was iron when his fingers locked around your arms. Tears were running down your cheeks, ignoring the blood that dripped from where his nails had pierced skin. Still, you refused to let go of his face.

"Zandik please.. look around you.. it's over, we- you did it.. let's go home.."

For a moment, the fog seemed to clear a little from his eyes as they flickered back and forth, taking in the scenery anew. A shiver ran through him, hands letting up their grip on your arms in favour of gently feeling along them, confirming your existence.

Irminsul had burned and people's memories had been the price. None more affected than the man who'd held the torch.

It had yet to be determined what exactly had happened to Zandik, resources weren't abundant enough to prioritize anything but survival. And even if they were, he'd barely had a moment lucid enough to properly process your sobbed attempts at explanation.

Perhaps he hadn't been woven into the new tapestry of fate, or maybe his grandest achievement, his beloved eyes in time, had tethered him more firmly to the old threads rather than freeing him. More than once, his hands had held your head close to his chest, just as they did now, and shushed cries that he would never grasp the cause of.

"It will all get better my lotus," your heart already clenched, desperate cries begging to freeze time in place before he continued with his hushed words, "…just a little longer and we'll all be free…"

[tomaturtles]

Kawoshin Week Day 6: 2928/Post 3.0+1.0 + Meeting for the first time in years!

I just think that. Shinji growing up to be taller than Kaworu and hitting him with the realization of time moving forward and them not being doomed teenagers anymore

[galedekarios]

veilguard #30

rook dev prompts

1: name

leander aurelian thorne.

i am set on playing a city elf warden and thorne sounded free marches in terms of origin.

as a city elf, the culture is often closer to the humans than the dalish, making human names of the places of origin viable for city elves. a friend helped me settle on leander and aurelian.

leander is of greek origin and is comprised of the words 'lion' and 'man', which i think is a nice fit a for a warden.

aurelian is of roman origin and means 'gilded'.

i also think that both names harmonise quite well with the last name thorne.

2: age

leander is 39 years old, born in 9:14 dragon.

i wanted to play a more mature character again. someone who is experienced and has a lived a life before the events of the game, whatever they may be, while also being mindful of bioware's restriction when it comes to the age of the protagonist.

i also want to play a warden who is struggling to accept and deal with the knowledge that the calling might become a reality for him sooner rather than later.

[the-merchant00]

Chapter 2: Who does this woman think she is?!

New chapter alert

Agatha gets a new bodyguard. Emphasis on body.

Rio is absolutely shameless.

Alice thinks she might as well pack her shit up.

AO3 Link: Love Into A Weapon

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 10

Is it anything novel? No. But did I fist fight the prompt today? Yes. This is what happened and sometimes you gotta embrace the traditional.

Passing out from Pain

“What was that?”

“Aaaaaagh!!!”

“Use your words, scum!”

Blurred vision could hardly make out the man across the table before another blow came from behind. The stool tilted when they fell to the side, but strong hands forced them back upright and steady. Just minutes ago this had been a sane conversation.

“I don’t know, I don’t-hhhhhhh-” The sound of cane against bone was sickening.

“Your own little investigation? You don’t know who helped you?” He tapped a pen against the wooden desk. Impatient. But held up a hand to stop the barrage from his assistant. “Take a look at this.”

Shuddering breaths ghosted over the desk. Their desk. They duly noted that their head was in their hands. Then there was a hand, gripping onto short strands of hair, and pulling them back up. 

In his hand was a USB drive that brought their heart to their throat.

“You see, we may not have told you the entire truth earlier. We know exactly what you’ve gathered. And we know a conspirator leaked this to you. All I need is your help in figuring out who that was, and then you can go free. After I smash this drive, of course.”

“Fucking bastard- AAAAHH!” A rib snapped loud enough for the entire room to hear, even over their scream.

“Oh, do that again. I had no idea you cried so nicely.” They couldn’t believe their boss was speaking to them like this, after years of working under him completely unaware… And now to be interrogated and tortured in their own office, their blood probably splattered all across the floor, the order to cause that pain again!

“Get- get away from me!” Running hadn’t worked before and there was no escape with the handcuffs around their wrists, but they couldn’t take that all over again. 

A smashed fibula had them on the floor, writhing on their hands.

“Fuck! No-!” A foot on their back now and their broken rib creaked under the pressure. “You’re just going to torture them too!” 

“You silly thing.” He wasn’t stepping on them, but his voice came from above. “I’m not going to torture them. I’m going to kill them.”

More weight, they could’ve sworn they felt another rib crack. 

“I-I can’t even think, please, I couldn’t- nnhhhhhh- I couldn’t answer you if I wanted!” A bold-faced fucking lie: that name was the only thing on their mind right now. Seven letters. First and last name. And it would be over.

The cane on their leg again. Shattering the break. Life faded out of focus.

“Oh, you don’t want to pass out. We’d have to keep you here with us.”

“It hurts- it-”

“And you can stop that. We’ve had you for, what, an hour now? Look at yourself. You’ll never walk right again, for one.”

A violent sob wracked them. It wasn’t true, he couldn’t do that in one night, he just wanted them scared enough to say- they forced their lips shut. It almost fell out then at the mere thought. 

The foot fell away from their back and they gasped in relief.

“I know you can’t see it right now, my little wreck.” The tone was detached, despite the words. “But my assistant has their foot over that precious leg of yours. Imagine what damage that could do if you refuse me yet again.”

The rule of sealed lips didn’t exist when cold panic flooded their heart, labored breathing turning short and desperate. Their head was shaking in disbelief.

“No? Don’t say I never warned you.”

White hot agony, screaming, then nothing.

[yuwuta]

i have never done kinktober before bc it’s usually such a hellish time of year for me but i think i might actually have time for once omg………..

[songofwizardry]

the thing you need to know about me is that I turn into a little feral animal when given any quantity of fruit. I will attack that mango with my teeth. I will devour that custard apple, seeds be damned. I will decimate that plate of strawberries. no fruit is safe from me at any time of day. my primate ancestors look down at me and nod approvingly.

[copia]

i think someone has to grab me by the shoulders and look me in the eye and tell me VERY firmly, on and on until i believe it, that i'm seeing ghost live. because right now i'm finding it hard to wrap my head around and am just crashing after the stress fest that has been raging since 1pm yesterday

[linkedin-offficial]

happy easter! have some characters from a story im working on. (+ sweet)