#day 2: countdown

[thekingofthenameless]

Day 2: Countdown

Length: 1K

Cws/Tws: Implied/Referenced kidnapping, manipulation & coercion, non-consensual drugging, and rape. It doesn't physically happen in this chapter; it happened in the past.

Ao3

Merlin:

After Ganieda and Vivian retire to the guest chambers, he and Charlie walk to their bedroom. His mind is clouded by worry, thoughts more disorganized than ever.  He should be happy. And he is. And he is, but- He can’t pretend he’s the same person, not anymore now that they’re here, and when they both realize they’ll rope Mama and Papa into it and they’ll all know- Charlie breathes on him, and the warm air wafting against him snaps him out of it, just a little. Charlie’s here. Charlie’s here. His companion can be his support if he does have to tell them what happened that day, what happened… after, how he’s still trying to heal from it 2,631 years later. Hazy memories flood his mind, of being manipulated, being forced to choose between himself or Charlie, the accusations they hurled at him before that, the hands all over him, the pain the fear the blood the baby- “-lin?” His son asks quietly, after bumping his head against his chest. He looks up into his familiar’s eyes, still feeling out of it, and they show nothing but concern and gentleness. I’m here. I love you.  He steps forward to hug his son’s muzzle, stroking it as he wills himself to calm down. (It doesn’t work. The panic is still rising, making his body hot; the hurt is still resurfacing, constricting his chest.) “They’re going to know,” Kennard whispers, and he fights the urge to shudder. “They’re going to hate you. I don’t know how Charlie doesn’t yet, but he will.” He won’t hate me, he replies internally, and it’s the only response he can think of.   “Yes, he will.” His words are firm, believing, even though the orc’s a figment of his imagination, still haunting him two millennia later, and it doesn’t make sense because he doesn’t believe that. He doesn’t.  He doesn’t.  “One day you’ll see what we’re saying,” Ella murmurs, all false gentleness like she was in life. (She was like that, wasn’t she?) “So wise, and yet so foolish,” she taunts a moment later. He lets go of Charlie’s muzzle and moves closer, stroking his chest before he closes his eyes, trying to banish the unforgiving voices from his mind in vain. His son bends his head to nuzzle his back, purring softly. It’s not loud enough to quiet them, but it’s sweet and comforting nonetheless. 

“Let’s go inside,” his familiar gently says, voice carrying an undertone of anger that suggests he’s leveling a glare at the guards behind them. He swallows at the thought of prying eyes, but he was the one who nearly broke down out in the open instead of their room. Their stares wouldn’t be unwarranted. Taking a breath to steady himself, he lets go of his companion and opens the door, slipping inside; Charlie simply nudges it until it’s wide enough for him to enter before closing it with his muzzle. Then they’re alone, and his son doesn’t demand answers, doesn’t prod in hopes of getting one like they would, simply breathing on his left shoulder before laying what he can of his chin on it, giving comfort without any hidden agenda attached. He reaches up to stroke the soft muzzle with his right hand; Charlie rumbles softly. I’ll listen if you want to talk about it, it says, and he inhales a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers, lowering his hand, and Charlie doesn’t reply, but he knows his son is listening, waiting for him to finish before he gives any input. “They’re going to know I’m not the same person, and they’re going to figure out... something happened. They’re already wondering about my scars. But how can I tell them?” His voice cracks, tears suddenly swimming in his eyes, and he hates it. “They’ll bring Mama and Papa into it, and then they’ll all know, and I don’t know if they’ll still love me or not since I was such an idiot that day-”  “Shh,” his familiar interrupts, bending his head even more to rest it against his stomach, looking into his eyes. “You weren’t an idiot; they betrayed both of us. Neither of us can be blamed for their actions, and you can’t blame yourself for being manipulated, especially after they drugged you.” He growls lowly, tail definitely flicking behind them. ‘If they have any sense, then they’ll see the truth. If they don’t, that’s not your fault.” He tries to accept the gentle words, but he can’t because they’re not true. Being drugged wasn’t an excuse for how easily he accepted their words when they didn’t show him that they did have his son, when all of it was caused by the orc who painted him as a villain because he couldn’t accept rejection, couldn’t accept that he doesn’t love anyone romantically, couldn’t accept that he and Charlie aren’t- He tries to halt that train of thought, because he doesn’t want to think of the vile things they imagined, the things he thought he had to do to protect his son when he wasn’t even there. Charlie rumbles again, catching his attention. “I love you,” his companion continues, and he realizes he didn’t respond. “And I’ll keep telling you the truth until you see it.”  He fights the urge to shake his head, because his familiar wouldn’t accept that answer and would keep gently refuting his version of events until he acquiesced. “I... I don’t know how to tell them,” he murmurs instead, hands reaching up to run through his son’s soft fur. “I- I should have thought about it more, because this was going to happen eventually, but..” He trails off. What could he say? That he didn’t want to think about it like a coward? “It’s always been a countdown. I was just too foolish to realize it.”  “You’re not foolish for not wanting to think about it,” Charlie whispers, like he was reading his mind, even if he possesses no telepathy besides through their bond. “We’ll... figure something out. We always do.”  Figure out how to tell them I was raped, intruding thoughts say, uncaring that his son didn’t mean it that way. He forces himself to nod, turning to press his head against his familiar’s as he tries to ignore the ache in his chest.   He can't think of the baby. Not now.

Taglist: @gaylightisminetocommand, @the-arson-author-gamer, @honeyxmonkey

[linoyes]

COUNTDOWN TO LEE KNOW'S BIRTHDAY -> DAY 1 CAT IN WATER

[cliopadra]

THE LAST DOUBLE DIGIT DAY IS UPON US! 10 DAYS LEFT TILL GOOD OMENS SEASON 2, EVERYBODY!

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

[verba-amoris]

Who doesn't like a kiss under the mistletoe? 😘

[iconkon]

[bazzledazzlepitches]

COCD Day 2: Chosen

“Really Snow? That’s your plan? Wait for me to kill someone? You’re the worst Chosen One who’s ever been chosen.” -Carry On, Chapter 17

Crazy how it’s already carry on countdown season 🫣🫣 I missed day 1 but I did want to try and do a couple of the prompts since I’ll finally be on break for at least HALF of the challenge, and I’ve been a little hyperfixated on carry on (again). Day two’s prompt was “Chosen” and I decided to base my drawing on Baz’s iconic line. We’ll see how many prompts I end up doing 🫣

@carryon-countdown

[crossingthedreams]

countdown — marcus acacius x f!reader

a/n: don't we just love it when pedro pascal exists? i'm a little late to my entry on @angstober day 02 — countdown, but here it is! it's not as angsty as it had originally played out in my mind, however, I do enjoy the general undertone of constant dread (aka my life).

word count: 586

warnings: (light) angst. thoughts of death. separation.

Just a little over five months ago, your husband left.

If only he had left willingly, both your hearts would ache less. Once more, he had been called upon by the Emperor to defend Rome against the barbarians. Defending your homeland t was a noble task, but, to you, a talent in killing would never be a virtue. 

Unlike most, you didn’t see the General when Marcus Acacius walked into a room. From the very first time you two met, in a darkened evening, it had been natural to see the best in each other. You had had a little too much wine that night, and the first words the infamous General Marcus Acacius ever heard his future wife say were, “Which of the gods do you reckon would be best in bed, General?”.

His eyes widened, as most daughters of traditional men such as yourself were not so blatant and forward in sexual matters. The ones that were, just weren’t entertaining to him, who was more introspective and enjoyed wondering than most warriors. But there, sitting between wives of his trusted war companions and maidens, was the woman who made him feel pleasantly surprised for the first time in a decade. 

He had no need for a wife, no need for someone else to lose. He had no wish to be a burden, to be a grave someone would cry over. His name was not for mourning, but for glory, and he knew from a young age his legacy would be in the wars fought and not children raised. He was familiar with pain, not that much with joy.

But the next words you uttered made him sure he had to have you as his. 

“Female… or not”. 

Marcus married you within a fortnight. Most days were a mixture of laying in white sheets and drinking red wine, others required more formal attires. Life was, for the first time in forever, good, and not a constant countdown until the next inconvenience, or the next battle. That is, until he was summoned once more. 

The pain of seeing a loved one leave without knowing if they’d ever be seen again was too much to bear for some people. The only thing greater than pain, greater than fear, was love. And the love Marcus Acacius and his wife shared was strong, even if it was new to this world. 

You counted the days, counted the space between the two of you. You knew the both of you were counting the days to be reunited. Five, four, three, two. But would the one come for both of you? With a hand laying in your swollen belly, remembering all those horrible stories about childbirth, you weren’t sure. 

General Marcus Acacius knew some people were born for greatness, while most were born for an ordinary life. He thought he was part of that first group, but he found there was a third category: those born for tragedy. 

Love was there first, and that made the tragedies to come all that more painful. 

In the battlefield, a man brought his hand to his chest. What once had been a call for Rome, was now a call for you. He fought for you. And, in the back of his mind, praying to the same gods you had brought to his attention on the first night you met, Marcus started to countdown to the day he could finally part ways with the hardships of battle, so he would see and hold you again. 

[iced-souls]

I’ve been getting so much nostalgia from the randomly recommended videos to me about skylanders that I decided to doodle up some of the characters I remember using most often.

Which inevitably made me receive more nostalgia from the figurines we kept cause OMG I FORGOT THEY HAD CARDS—

Closer/more pics under the cut

[afeatherypileofjunk]

Can you believe it guys? Christmas, just a week away. Christmas is in a week! Woohoo! I am so happy about this information. Christmas! Just a week away, oh wow.

[annoyangle]

[hualian]

TGCF Donghua season 2 character poster countdown → Jun Wu 🦋

[tenyearsofbillcipher]

🔻COUNTDOWN🔻

2 more days until the fanzine drops! Cover reveal tomorrow?

20 8 5 16 1 18 20 25 13 9 7 8 20 14 15 20 19 20 15 16 2 21 20 14 5 9 20 8 5 18 23 9 12 12 8 9 19 16 1 9 14

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

I may have many issues with Countdown but I can appreciate it for a few things and that includes Jason meeting murder Batman* (Earth-51 Batman)

I mean to start Jason clearly doesn't agree with the guy. He's very not into the whole "let's kill all these guys" attitude and thinks murder batman is crazy (and outright says so) But also. He puts on the suit he's given that this Batman made, he's fights with him. He mourns him. He's upset with the death. After Batman failed him on his own earth he meets one that accepts him

And augh. They haunt me. Aughh I wish I could write I wanna write and get to see a fic about them so so bad

(do Not tell me to just write it anyway please amd thank you. auuaaoighh)

Because like! The way murder batman was SO quick to start seeing Jason as his own dead Jason and start referring to him as such.

The way murder batman never got to know about Jason's Red Hooding but AUGH. Can you just IMAGINE the moral dilemma he'd have with that??! He probably would've killed a crime lord Jason before ever learning his identity, or learning it too late. Aughhhaoujgh

They had to kill off murderbatman he wouldve been too powerful otherwise. For example I think he wouldve Not been willing to let go of this living Jason

Multiverse kidnapping story where after meeting and then leaving, murder bat finds our Jason amd just. Fucking takes him and pretends it's his Jason. Augh that'd be so fun

This page is everything ^

Theyre so so normal about eachother. I'm chewing on them like a dog with its favorite toy btw

[verba-amoris]

💋 all I want is a kiss under the mistletoe 💋

[kairukitsuneo]

3 days left

Elita-1 doodle