#go go prickle rangers

[silverequation]

More hedgehogs and chao

[mlmxreader]

My Favourite Shadow | Aragorn x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi!

How you doing?

Was wondering if I could request "It's you and me, always" with Aragorn please?

Thank you have a nice night ! :) ❞

: ̗̀➛ Aragorn has a favourite Ranger, and that Ranger has a favourite shadow

: ̗̀➛ VERY mild violence references

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Aragorn gently nudged you as he came to sit down at your left, just letting you know that he was there and he was alright. He had come back in one piece. From the corner of his eye, be could see the candles flicker gently as the evening breeze softly caressed the windows outside.

The fur blankets on the bed looked all too tempting, soft and warm, and cosy beyond compare, and with it being so late at night, it was the only thing that he could think of - sleeping in a warm, soft, dry bed.

It was a huge change from what he had been used to the past few months; cold hard ground with damp mud that would squish loudly and sink with the slightest of movements.

For months he had been sleeping like that, and the temptation of an actual bed was more than hard and difficult to ignore. Temptation of such a thing was always so hard to ignore.

As a shiver ran down from his shoulders all the way to the soles on his feet, Aragorn could only let his body tremble slightly; you seemed to be utterly unphased by the cold, leaning against him as a quiet hum slipped from the back of your throat.

Your hand came to rest on top of his, gently resting on his thigh; he turned his hand over so his palm faced upwards, fingers lacing with yours as he gave you a little squeeze.

Reassurance mixed with remorse. Aragorn looked at you with an awful fondness, his lips turned into a slight smile as if he was musing and thinking of something of great importance.

Slowly, his wonderful grey eyes dropped to your lips, and he leaned in a little closer, letting you close the distance as he always did. It was a gentle and slow kiss, you let go of his hand, lacing your fingers into the long dark hairs at the back of his head.

You grinned into the kiss just as he did, giddy to know that you were both with each other again and that you were not going to be apart for a good long while. Inseparable once again.

More than anything you both could feel an overwhelmingly harsh amount of relief, so much so that there were tears prickling in the corner of your eyes and threatening to spill.

Two Rangers were a rare sight and then some. Two Rangers often meant a lot of trouble - orcs or goblins or large packs of giant spiders or trolls. But not you and Aragorn.

The locals came to know and understand that you and Aragorn together meant almost next to nothing; the pair of you were often seen together and no one really ever took more than a single glance either way. They did not care what happened behind closed doors in the slightest, thankfully.

But now Aragorn was far more concerned with getting to bed, and smiled as he pulled away.

His cold and rough hands settled on your cheeks, his thumbs gently moving up and down slowly and softly as you smiled and leaned into his tender grip. A soft sigh came from you as you closed your eyes for a moment.

"I am glad to see you again," he whispered so softly. "I missed you so terribly... I must apologise for being gone for so long, I am truly sorry."

You shook your head, telling him that although you did appreciate his concern and candour, it was not his fault that he had been gone for so long. "That's nonsense. I missed you, too, I truly did... but the good news is that I took care of the spiders in the valleys... big brutes they were - white with red crosses on them. Never seen anything like that... they didn't want to go down in the slightest."

"I am proud," Aragorn replied with sincerity and a grin, "to take such a task by yourself - I am very proud of you, my beloved. I never would have been able to do it on my own."

"I tell you, it was not easy," you laughed softly as you pulled away slightly, enough to be able to look into those pretty grey eyes of his.

"No?" Aragorn mused, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"No," you shook your head as you laughed so softly again. "It would have been far easier with you at my side, and with me at yours."

"Well, what do you expect?" He mused so kindly as he gazed at you so sweetly. "Did we not make the vow that it's you and me, always? It's me and you until there are no more stars. No more moon. No more mountains. It is always you and me, is it not?"

You nodded slowly, on the very brink of grinning ad you cleared your throat and licked your lips. "Just as the sky is blue and mice are brown. As long as there are valleys and mountains, I am yours, and you are mine... and I will always find my way back to you, back to my home."

"And I will always follow," Aragorn agreed with a soft whisper. "My Ranger, I will always follow your shadow. Until my last breath."

"Follow me now," you murmured, gripping his hands tightly and leading him towards the bed. "Follow me where it's warm and soft and dry."

"Happily," he agreed, hoping that you would sleep to his right. "Let me follow your shadow."

You got into the bed, lifting up the fur blankets so Aragorn could get beneath them; instinct kicked in, and you snuggled into his side almost immediately as you yawned and stretched.

He grinned, kissing your forehead before letting his body lose its tension; he listened to your breathing for a moment, closing his eyes.

"You will always be my favourite shadow," you murmured under your breath. "Always there when I want you around. Always by my side... I love you..."

[justmightyshadows]

A Druid Walks Into a Bar with a Ranger

Was requested that I write more Jaheira smut. So here we go!

This is a post bar fight setting with some great hot ya know after. Tiny tiny bit of angst. lots of NSFW. Rated: Explicit

Getting into a bar fight was not on the top of your list after leaving Baldur’s Gate. Yet, after you beat everyone at darts, blindfolded, and Jaheira beat them at drinking games you found yourselves fighting off a couple of aggressive challengers - mad that you had ‘stolen’ their money. Your first thought had been to ignore them but once one had put his hands on you, you knew it was too late. Jaheira reacted before you could, slamming them into tables and throwing them viciously into walls until no one dared come near you both.

You walked away victorious but battered, your nose broken and your hands scraped and bloodied. Jaheira sported a small cut above her eye that was bleeding profusely. She grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close as she guided you through the crowd, up the stairs and down a small hallway to the room she had rented for the night.

Inside, the barely lit candles flickered against the wooden walls, your eyes took a second to adjust to the light. She had picked a pretty bare room but it had a bed, a chair and a random but very luxurious leather couch against the far wall.

“Sit down, little bird.” She said - her voice was thick and soaked into your ears gently. You obeyed, as usual, sat in the hard wooden chair and let her fret over your injuries, her hands cleaned the grime and blood from your wounds, taking extra care to heal the scrapes against your knuckles as well. Her body was so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off it.

“I’ll have to set your nose. It will hurt. A lot.” She looked into your eyes as she gave the stern warning. In response you reached out to her, holding onto the back of her thighs for support and tilted your head up toward her, defiant. She grinned down at you, pressing her fingers hard against either side of the ridge until a satisfying click of bone meant she had pushed it back into place. The heat radiated like a small fire across your face, pulling tears from your ducts and down your face.

“You did well, I knew you would.” She kissed both of your cheeks softly praising you with whispers into your ear.

You didn’t even cry out. How strong you are. My little bird doesn’t even flinch at a broken nose.

She made her way toward the couch across from you, shed her shirt and poured herself a small glass of whiskey before sitting, her legs spread wide and her head leaned against the back of the seat.

If this was meant to turn you on, it did.

She smirked as she caught you gazing over her body, your eyes followed the trail of her neck down to the tip of her breasts.

You rose without thinking coming to rest on your knees between her legs, the night’s events replayed in your head as she undid your braid, shaking your hair loose until it cascaded down your back in dark sheets and massaged the base of your scalp.

“You were such a hot head tonight, aren’t you supposed to have outgrown that at your age?” You teased her as your hands found a large purple bruise on her side. She chuckled, looking down at you as you healed the wounds on her body with the little bit of magic you could muster.

“Yeah - some habits have only gotten worse in my old age. I’m more protective than ever, more jealous. Maybe I am just afraid to lose you.” She threw the drink back, placing the empty cup on the table harshly. Her hand found yours and she smiled into your wrist, her warm breath prickling against your skin before she planted a kiss. It set your skin on edge, small goosebumps rising along your body in response.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaheira.” You said softly to her - she had been speaking about losing you so much since you were kidnapped month’s ago.

“I know, I won’t allow it.” Her eyes flashed dangerous shades of yellow and gold as she spoke. You could feel your head being guided forward to the space between her breasts, your lips meeting her skin eagerly, a hard suck earning you the softest of moans from her. She pulled you to her nipple wordlessly letting you decide how to please her. Your mouth opening around it as your tongue glided over the erect flesh, lapping it forward into a suck as you looked up into her eyes, the thin slits staring back at you showed you were on the right track. She moved you to the other one as her hands undid the buttons and ties keeping your clothing on until it hung limply from your body.

“Take this off, I want to see you bare.” She pushed you back a bit with the palm of her hand, your hands tore the clothing off easily, the thin fabric falling gracefully behind you. She unbuttoned her pants in front of your face sliding out of them slowly, revealing the silvery bush and wet center, teasing you with her closeness before going back to her place on the couch.

“You know where I want you.” She growled - the gravel catching in her voice as her hand led you between her legs by the back of your head.

“And you know where I want to be.” You whisper into her thighs. Your knees pressed into the ground as your mouth brushed against her. You inhaled - taking in the smell of her body, her want poured off of her - then you dove in. Your tongue spread her lips apart savoring the taste, you moaned into her and she dug into your shoulder affectionately with her nails. Her hand led you to every spot she wanted you, her personal toy to guide and control, until she shuddered, climaxing against your mouth, pressing you forward into her desire as she finished. She shed you to the side as she stood up and rummaged through her bag looking for what she wanted to play with next.

Her new strap was the same color as the last, fleshy, serious, just bigger - the harness end was made to fill her as well, just like she liked it. She slid it on, her mouth twitching slightly with pleasure as it entered her and headed over to you. Pulling you up by the long strands of hair she slapped your ass and ordered you to ride her.

“Put your youth to use.” She joked - you are far older than she will ever be but you smile along anyway lifting yourself to straddle her hips. You avoided her gaze as you lowered yourself onto her new favorite toy, your lips parted as you let out the faintest moan, the tense sensation of it rising into you was blissful.

Your body tensed so you glanced down to see that 3 inches or so still won’t fit.

Of course she picked this one, you thought.

Her face cracked into a grin as she smacked your ass again, your hips responded with experienced rolls, your hands shook out your hair as you showed off your body to her. Her hands met your waist and as always she tried to guide you, push you, into the positions that she thinks are best. Your body tried to sink onto it even further but your mind held you back. She watched you intently her hands pushing you down and her hips lifting upward to ease the rest inside to no avail.

“Ah - Jaheira. I’m full.” The strap wastoo big, it pressed against you roughly as she bucked her hips upward, again. She caressed your face, touching the bit of sweat that had started to bead there.

“You can take more. Here. I’ll show you.” Before you can protest she’s flipped you to be on your back, the cold leather couch a shock against your skin as she begins to work inside of you. Her hands pushed back against your legs, opening you up to her smooth, hard strokes. You feel yourself filling with it, more and more, far more than you thought you could take until her skin touched yours. Her hips flush against your thighs and ass. You both shudder at the contact - the warm feel of each other’s flesh is delightful.

“Look at you, so full. Ready for me.” She said with her head raised into the air, her hips thrust in and out with punctuated slaps of your bodies together. Your eyes fall back into your head, your mouth open and vocal to the pleasure you are feeling underneath her. You take your hands and find her nipple, the other grabbed hard against her flexed ass and she purred at you - the softest voice she has ever had falls down at your perked up ears.

“I need you to say my name.” You gasp for air and push it out of your almost useless mouth.

You know what she wants, where she this is goin.

“I’m here, Jaheira. I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes close defensively as she slammed into you again and again - trying to make your bodies one.

You could tell she was close, but she held back, waited, brought her lips to your chest to send you over the edge, your legs shake involuntarily, flailing in the air and she moaned loud into you, closer to a roar than anything else. You both remain intertwined in ecstasy for what feels like far longer than you’d ever climaxed before. When she slid out your hole felt empty, it begged for more with gentle pulsing muscles, you pulled her onto you and kissed her deeply.

“That was..”

You don’t have the words to explain and she doesn’t try to give them to you.

Her own were unable to describe the sensation either.

It filled the space around you as you both try to catch your breath.

The sun peeked out over the horizon as she settled into you.

“We can stay here another night. I’m not finished with you yet.” She rest her hand on your entrance as she drifted off to sleep, muttering small praises in her dreams - assuring herself that you were right there with her.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Happy Wednesday-eve, my fellow Mind Flayers to-be!

Time for a(n unedited orz) sneak peek of Chapter Fifteen of my Bloodweave fic Ancient Books and Horror Stories!

We have finally escaped The Horrors™! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Hope you enjoy!

---

By the time they made it to the entry hall, Leon, Victoria, and Gale’s staff were there waiting for them. Victoria was grinning from ear to ear and eagerly waved upon seeing him. Leon smiled fondly after her as she hurried up to him.

“I want to hug you, but you’re really messy,” she offered by way of greeting.

“Yes, well, needs must and all that.”

Her eyes darted back in the direction they’d come from. “...he’s really gone?

“He is. Permanently. Are you and your father going to the Underdark too?”

Her face lit up briefly before falling. “No… Even though I really want to. Did you know that’s where Catti-Brie’s husband used to live?”

That startled a laugh from Astarion. “I do know that actually.”

Gale gave him a sidelong look. “You would know that, wouldn’t you?” Astarion froze. “...hmm?”

Gale’s brows rose in mock surprise. “Oh? You have no idea who Catti-Brie’s husband is?”

Oh, no.

“Ah… Well…”

“His name is Drizzt!” Victoria piped up. “I can never remember his last name though…”

Wyll arched a brow. “Drizzt Do'Urden? The Drow ranger?”

“Yes! That’s him!” Victoria insisted. Oh, hells. He didn’t even have Tav’s cannibalism or Karlach’s short attention span to save him now. He felt sweat prickling at the nape of his neck. Gale watched him knowingly, an evil smile coming to his face.

[darkaviarymc]

The Evergreens Enfold the Shrine, A recursive fic of The Incandescence of a Dying Light by @quaranmine

(I meant to hit Edit Chapter but accidentally hit Publish Chapter, so you get it a day earlier than planned)

Chapter 3

"Do you think he really saw him?"  

The silence was deafening in the O.R waiting room at West Park Hospital in Cody.  Gem had to break it somehow, and Etho's ghost sighting had been prickling Gem's mind ever since Etho had asked that chilling question.  

"Did'e lay there like this?  Knowin' he's never gettin' up?  Jus' waitin' t'die?"

Beef let out a long sigh and dragged the palms of his hands down his bearded face.  "I can't say for certain if ghosts exist or not, but what Etho saw, or what Etho thinks he saw?  Nah.  I mean come on Gem, he hit his head.  He was in pain and full of adrenalin, probably on the edge of shock, with a story fresh in his head about a mustached ghost who appears to injured hikers."

"When you see hoof prints, think horses, not zebras," Gem said.  It was something she'd heard medical students she crossed paths with in some of her classes say.  It was meant to remind them that the simplest, most likely explanation for something was usually the correct one and to not try to jump to a drastic diagnosis. Even so, Gem still had her doubts.  "I still can't stop thinking about it.  The crazy part is, even the ranger thought someone else was with us.  Doesn't that make you wonder?"

"Bdubs seems like an okay dude, but did you listen to how he talked?  The guy's nuts.  Too many days in the woods psyching him out." 

Gem hummed thoughtfully.  "You might be right.  I mean, you're probably right.  Maybe the woods are psyching me out, too."

Before they could say anything else on the matter, a doctor walked into the waiting room.

"Are you two Ethos contacts?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

"How is he?" Gem asked.

"The surgery on his ancle went well," the doctor began, "and I expect it to make a full recovery.  Of course, he'll need to follow up with an orthopedic surgeon back home and set up a physical therapy schedule.  He also has several small rib fractures, mostly on the left side.  They're more like minor cracks than major breaks.  Now, about those head injuries.  The bad news is, in addition to a pretty severe concussion, he also suffered two separate skull fractures.  The good news is that they're both linear, so they shouldn't require surgery."

"All in all," the doctor concluded, "He has a lot of minor fractures, and our biggest concern is the concussion.  I expect he's going to be just fine given time to recover." 

The two friends both felt a physical weight lift from their chest.  Gem relaxed in her seat for the first time in hours, and Beef smiled and rubbed Gem's back.

"How soon can he go home?" Beef asked.

"He'll need to stay here for a few nights for observation.  A concussion like his needs to be closely monitored for 73 hours to ensure there's no preasure or fluid buildup.  He also won't be getting on any plains for least a week.  We want to see him back here on the 21st for an evaluation, and at that point the neurologist will decide weather or not he's clear to fly.  She'll meet with you all later once Etho's awake and aware to discuss that part of his case in more detail."

Beef chewed his lip; the tension was back.  He nodded slowly.  "Thank you."

"Of course," the doctor said with a smile.  "You know, it could have been much worse.  He's lucky he has quick-thinking friends like you two."

As the doctor walked away, Beef groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands.  "A week.  At least a week."

Beef's voice was muffled by his hands, but Gem still heard him clearly.  "You go," Gem said without hesitation.  "I can take care of Etho."

Beef quickly shook his head.  "Not a chance."

"Beef, this is your bachelors degree on the line!  If you don't get to your classes-"

"If I don't get to my classes, I get my degree a semester later.  I won't lie and say I'm not bummed about it, but Etho's more important.  He'd do the same for either of us."

Gem leaned across the armrest of the chair and hugged Beef.  Though the position was awkward due to the barrier, it was one of the warmest, most comforting hugs Gem had ever had.  "You're a good friend, Beef," Gem said into Beef's shoulder.

"So are you.  Just look at you, ready and willing to deal with Etho on your own.  Heaven knows that man's a handful on a good day."

Gem laughed and sat back up properly in her chair.  "Oh, I know!"

"Do you?  Because you weren't around when he signed half the campus up for 'Shady E's Super Spy Mystery game' mailing list with letters written in 'invisible ink.'  He made almost five hundred dollars selling subscriptions to blank paper before the dean caught on and almost expelled him."

"Yeah, but I was around when he tried to extort the entire campus with exuberantly priced white-label 'royal maple syrup.'" 

The two laughed at their reminiscing for a while before Beef stood up and stretched.  "Oh, how are your knees, by the way?"

"What about my knees?"

"You hit the ground pretty hard when we got down to Etho back at Owl Head."

"Oh."  Gem rubbed her knees and shrugged.  "I mean, they're a little sore and probably bruised, but I'm okay."

"That's good.  I'm gonna go call Pause.  He's probably wearing a hole in the carpet pacing the living room waiting for an update."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want them to lose their security deposit on top of having to pay American medical bills."

Beef cringed.  "Ooh, yeah, even with the travelers insurance, that's gonna be... rough."

"He might have to start another mailing list."

Beef laughed again.  He waived goodbye to Gem before leaving the room to make his phone call.

Now alone with her thoughts, Gem looked out the window next to her.  She took in the sights of the busy tourist city before letting her eyes wander out further to the mountains of Shoshone National Forest that loomed over the horizon.  It was surreal to think that just a few hours ago, she'd been out there having the time of her life with her two best friends.  Now she was here, in a hospital waiting room, waiting for one of those friends to wake up from surgery.  

How quickly life can turn your world upside down. 

And how quickly reality can hit you like a splash of ice-cold water from a snow creek. 

He could have died. 

Etho almost died. 

He probably would have, had that ranger not been on the trail when he had been.

"There wasn't a fourth person with you, was there?" 

And then there was the ghost sighting.  Had it been real?  Had Etho truly seen Mumbo back there at the base of the hill off of Owl Head Trail?  Had the ghost of Pinnacles Trail lead Bdubs to them?  Or was it all a concussion induced hallucination and an extremely lucky coincidence like Beef suggested.

Gem might never know.  But, she supposed as she sighed and watched her breath fog up the window, perhaps not knowing wasn't so bad.  She knew Etho was going to be okay.  She knew she had the best friends anyone could ever pray for.  She knew that in two weeks time, she'd be back home in her apartment in St. Johns  with a bottle of wine and her beloved internet chat rooms.  The message boards were going to love this story, Gem thought.  She used her finger to draw a heart in the condensation on the window, then wiped it clean with her sleeve.  And her sleeve was, in fact, clean, because she and Beef had thankfully had a chance to change cloths while Etho was in surgery so they didn't have to sit there caked in dried blood.  They'd even let Gem into an unoccupied patient room and allowed her shower.

But when she looked down at her hands, just for a brief second, she could still see Etho's blood coating every finger.  How long, she pondered, would it take for those mental images to go away?  They probably never would.  Sure, they would fade with time and become less brain-rattling, but Gem understood that this sort of trauma had a way of clinging to a person like smoke.

 "And what he found at the base of the mountain was the thing the rangers had been searching for for over a year: the dead body of the fallen hiker."

How long would it take for those mental images to go away for that fire lookout who found a dead hiker's year-old corpse while running for his life?

They probably never would.

Gem closed her eyes and tried to picture the view the view of the St. Johns skyline she had from her apartment.  She tried to picture her neighbor's kitten, or perhaps the bouncing logo on the screen saver of her home computer.  Anything but Etho laying unconscious on the forest floor.

"You know, it could have been much worse.  He's lucky."

That doctor probably knew better than Gem how much worse it could have been.  Being the closest hospital to Shoshone, Gem was sure this place had seen countless injuries, big and small, brought in from that forest, as well as it's fair share of tragic deaths.

But Etho's wouldn't be one of those, Gem reminded herself.  She opened her eyes and returned to the present.

Life would go on.  Soon Beef would come back and tell her about the ear-full he'd gotten from Pause, than later Etho would be awake and they could finally see him.  

Life would go on for the three friends, just as it went on for the forest after the fire that had driven that lookout up the hill, just as it did for that lookout, who Gem imagined was out there somewhere, living to the fullest.

Gem was lucky.  She was blessed.  She was safe.  She looked down at her hands.

No blood.

She gazed out the window once more at the mountains in the distance.  Although she knew his ghost probably wasn't real, she couldn't fight what compelled her to smile and whisper towards the forest.

"Thanks, Mumbo." 

[neverhangd]

@accultant , anne, and other cat-coded things 🐈‍⬛

How long’s it gonna be until someone trusts Anne well enough to explain all of the weird bullshit going on in this little adventuring party? It’s getting harder and harder to extend these weirdos the benefit of the doubt when so much evidence points so sharply in suspicious directs. Prickling sarcasm had crept back in when Anne first arrived at the scene, but—absent an explanation still—she won’t deny she feels bad for this poor little fucker in particular. They so frequently seem so overwhelmed.

At the invitation, Anne cocks her head and closes one eye, using her hand to gauge the relative height of Iago in the tree. She’d employed similarly rudimentary measures aboard the Ranger and they hadn’t steered her wrong once!

“As ye will, then. Make it another few feet down to that branch and jump—I’ll catch ye. ‘Less ye’d rather sit there in yer gown and wait ‘til I can fetch a rope.” Anne had taken to wearing trousers (and only trousers) to bed, striking a delicate balance between fending off the heat here on land (nights being cold at sea) and being able to function if called upon.

[aurora-boreas-borealis]

those yellow eyes?

Okay this one is going to take some explaining!

This is based off an episode from Power Rangers Dino Charge where Chase is mind controlled by the monster of the week (his eyes glow yellow, hence the title). And, I’ve found out there is a canon divergent au where the episode left off on a worse note with Chase hurting the other rangers

So, I’m writing a oneshot based off that with the whumptober prompt ‘nightmare’

Honestly what I have is very much barebones in terms of writing, but I’ll try to add a lil snippet :]

—————

There are a pair of eyes watching him.

[Chase] can feel them on his back. They glow through the darkness, a warm yellow that feels cloying.

Staring at his back, staring into his soul.

‘Your fault,’ a voice murmurs, ‘It’s your fault,’ it’s says, louder and clearer.

Twisting and turning in his sheets with beads of sweat prickling at his forehead, he forces his eyes shut and forces his back to the shadow —and those bright eyes— with shaky breathes— begging for the staring to stop, praying for it to leave.

[augment-techs]

Boom!Comics, what if Drakkon had actually died at the end of Shattered Grid??

....Oh, fuck this is gonna be hard. Lemme think.

It's so hard to pull on this thread and follow a single end loosed from it. There's so much to be addressed.

Kiya would have to be given consideration, because the writers fucked up with her in ways that are still ringing out in Darkest Hour. She needed treatment for her PTSD and Survivor's Guilt and killing the Blue Emissary. So I think Trini would have to actually tap into her Yellow potential WITHOUT Drakkon's goading.

The Eltarian Invasion would have to go through a speed run, because the Omega Rangers wouldn't make the incredibly stupid decision to nick Drakkon out of the Command Center and go galivanting about the universe based on his advice--more to the point, would the Red Emissary even be caught unawares by the Orange Empyreal if he wasn't checking in on Drakkon? No.

The bullshit with Zedd and the Dome Arc would have to still be gone through, because otherwise Matt wouldn't be revealed, and Zordon would still have to be proven wrong, so the stress would be even greater because the Omegas DIDN'T defy Zordon in this timeline and leave a crack in his ego, so the punishment for Billy would have been much differently handled...I think.

Tommy and Matt's dick measuring contest would have to be forestalled by Zack and Jason being unwilling to not look at things from Matt's POV, and I should like for Billy to have actually talked out his reasoning not just with the Stone Canyon Trio--though I still want that--but with Kimberly and Tommy. They've all been stressed out and under pressure and he needs someone who isn't new or hasn't been gone that could actually understand him. And possibly call him out sooner for keeping secrets from them when THEY aren't Zordon.

I would like to think that Zartus would make an effort to turn up the charm and use a charisma check to try and get Zordon on his side, but that means he would have to come to Earth while both the Red and Yellow Emissaries are alive and thus he only has control of the one Empyreal so he has to take care about sending it to particular planets to decimate.

Which means sending the Sentry Force Four to pick up Zelya and interrupt her dating Skull so she blew him off BEFORE she and Bulk had a heart to heart. BEFORE the Dome was placed over Angel Grove.

I think, for lack of any other way into understanding, the Rangers would contact the Coinless Universe in the hopes that THEY would have some idea what the Empyreal they met actually was.

Which, fun times for all, because YES, actually, TWO people from there do.

Ranger Slayer, Coinless Bulk, Sentry Skull end up popping over to the Prime universe to lend a hand. Skull happily dragging Finster-5 along with them because they're the two.

And Coinless Jason comes along, too, much to the distress of everyone there that was under the impression that he was dead. Kim thought he could use a breath of fresh air away from their world's rebuilding process and Jason was grateful for the chance to see a version of Billy and Angel Grove still standing.

And--except for Kim--they're all wearing Colors the others weren't expecting. White for Jason, Purple for Bulk, and--much to the discomfort of the Omega Rangers--Orange for Skull.

The Orange especially leaving the Omegas with a prickling sensation in the back of their minds. A bad aftertaste from the Empyreal.

"Fun fact about those fucking things? You can get rid of them, but you have to find the corpse of the Emissary they were born from and find a Ranger with a correlating Color to punch the corpse," is Skull's first observation after Finster's creepy explanation about the origin of the Empyreals ("Yeah, there are three of them. Opposite of their Primary Color counterpart. But at least you can count on them to cut to the chase instead of pulling some metaphorical lyricist bullshit,") with a tiredness that nobody expected from one of the Coinless after they gained their world back.

It's a lot of talking, a lot of convoluted back and forth about why the Empyreal would seem like it was on a mission for job instead of fulfilling their divine purpose.

I would like to think that the Omegas would propose team-up with the Coinless until things got straightened out. With the elder Kim, Bulk, and Jason remaining on Earth in case the Empyreal came knocking and Finster-5 and Skull coming with them on the Spectrum II in the hopes of cutting off more planets being killed.

Skull takes them up on their offer without looking to the other Coinless for consideration, given that it feels like everything is an a time limit and it's not like he could have left the Command Center to visit the Juice Bar or anything, despite Bulk's protests.

"I look too much like myself. It's fine."

Finster-5 does not really have much of a choice in the matter since he's on eternal probation and will do whatever the Ranger Slayer tells him to do.

However, Slayer Kim would probably have to go back and forth between one Earth and another to keep the peace, and Coinless Zack and Trini would pop in here and there as the ball really got rolling with the Eltarians showing up, acting as if they want to forge a proper alliance with Earth JUST before Zedd raises his metaphorical finger and everything is way more out in the open than it ever had any right to be.

I want Zedd to get a proper body. I want Zordon to get his own proper body. I want Rita to get yanked back to the Eath and given to Grace Sterling because the Omegas and Skull found her Dumpster spinning through space and weren't going to take the chance that Finster-5 would do something stupid. I think Jason would trust her a little more and would want to curry favor with someone other than Zordon...just in case.

I am also going to use this as an excuse to cut out the middle man so she can't be called on by Vile and therefore bring about Dark Specter using Zordon's old body. Zordon's getting that back so he and Zedd can beat the crap out of Zartus and be MORTAL so they both have certain expectations of accountability when they fuck up.

I also want to use this as an excuse for Zordon still getting called out, but I want it to be by someone that he wasn't expecting: like Purple Ranger Bulk finding the "spare change" in the Command Center and taking Zordon to task about trust and destiny and how even if the Rangers are now soldiers, they're also children and it's really not right to mess about without consulting them.

"Because 'you said so' is not an answer."

There is still a situation where the Empyreal goes to wipe out the Hartunians, but because Skull is not Drakkon and they'd have no reason to leave him behind on the ship, age and experience would be on their side. All but 40 members of the population wouldn't have to die--Skull would merely tear out the the king's heart so the queen could either aid them or perish. Which works splendidly as during the evacuation process it becomes very clear that the Empyreal is under someone else's command, and that someone can be traced to the Celestial Shard that formed with the Blue Emissary's death from their heart.

Hartunia is still destroyed and rendered 'Anew' but the people are alive and under new rule and relocated to an unoccupied world where they can start again without weapons or the scavenging practices and under the rule of Evor Till who winds up swearing fealty to the Rangers, with the promise to aid them if ever they call.

It leaves the Omegas rather shaken that they didn't fail and actually have somewhere to turn to make things better, but it also leaves them feeling sick that there's a version of Skull--living on their ship until things pan out--that would kill someone without hesitation or even appearing remorseful.

I really, really want the home team Bulk and Skull to get at least a little consideration from either Zordon or Grace Sterling in this scenario.

....That's all I've got. I'm sorry. This was hard.

@skyland2703

[undercover-roomba]

(yes i wrote something about fir and antler because they are my skrunkle guys. yeah. also i thought that ferric looked similar to ant. so here we go.)

  The soft light dappled the forest floor as the fox trotted across the leaves. He ignored the screech of some various animal being snuffed out behind him. Maybe by that weird mouse. It seemed to like him. But whatever, he had a mission. He needed to find his friend, the bat. He never really knew where the little creature went, but they were closer than he’d like to admit. He had found the thing in the hellscape plain, trembling and developing heat stroke. It was even snappy back then.

  He sniffed. The notable stench of blood hit his nose, and he recoiled. But there was a.. familiar scent coming with it. He noticed the smell of those Fire corporals. He actually respected them. A canine and a flying creature? He could relate. They had actually had some meaningful conversations as well. Ranger respected him, at least a little. He heard wingbeats, and looked up. The damned bat was hanging off the tree, still righting themself.

  “Little fucker. Get down here, Fir.” The fox growled.

  The bat chuckled, then flitted down and perched on his shoulder. “Cheer up, Antler.”

  “You know I can smell the corpse. Who is it?” He went for the calm approach- his go-to. But he made sure to add a hint of aggression to get the point across.

  Fir hesitated, then went with “I can’t tell you directly. You’ll have to see.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Antler murmured, but entered the small area in which the scent of rot was strongest. 

  Instantly, he had to take a step back. The stench was coming from a horrifyingly familiar fox, clearly dead, organs ripped out and all. 

  “...Ferric?”

  The single word was uttered before Ant could stop himself. His calm demeanor melted away in the fearful panic beating through his heart and the little prickles through his skin. His cousin. His only relative in Defiance. 

  “Holy shit.” Fir let out a shocked little chuckle. “I didn’t.. I thought she would be less brutally killed than that, but it is the murder cult.”

  “Fir, this is no time for jokes. Please.” Antler’s voice was strained.

  “..I know. I’m really so sorry. I heard that she tried to desert.” Fir sounded resigned.

  “..Fir, you’re a good friend. I hope you know that. My closest friend, in fact. But I need to be left alone.” Antler gently shut Ferric’s eerie, blank eyes with a claw.

  “Okay.” And with the simple word, Fir flew away. It hesitated in the air, turning back to look at the fox, then flew off.

  Silence was in the clearing for a while. Antler was burying the body for what seemed like hours. As he finished the mound, he sat down. “...Ferric. I hope you find a soft place to rest.” Of course he didn’t say much. But he had to let her go somehow. He shook his head softly. “Goodbye.” And with that, he turned away.

  “What did you overhear?” He asked his companion softly.

  Fir chuckled. “From the combination of it? There’s a shit ton- well, not a shit ton, but a notable amount of cats living in that hellscape desert or whatever you call it. They somehow have been surviving, for a while.”

  “So what you’ve heard Rainhaze mumbling is true?” Antler responded, tilting his head.

  “Oh, yeah.” It chuckled, “Being small has its perks. I don’t think he even knew I was listening.”

  “Everyone should have a little bat buddy.” Ant commented, letting out a small laugh. “To spy on animals who shouldn’t be spied on. Like Deepdark. Or the corporals.”

  “Aw, fuck you. You keep me around for much more than that.” Fir flitted away, then returned soon after.

 “Did Ferric try to desert?” Antler asked suddenly, suddenly a bit more subdued. 

 “Yeah. I asked Hacksaw. She confirmed it, she did attempt deserting. She also said that she didn’t care that the body had been buried. Hacksaw’s honestly really fucking cool.” Fir responded.

  “Absolutely. But anyways. It’s always a bad decision to desert. She could have told me. I could have tried to help her.” He whispered, sitting down.

  Fir made sure to flit around the area, checking for any prying ears, then whispered back: “You could have gotten caught, though. They wouldn’t kill you, yeah, but the punishments…” It huffed, making a frustrated face.

  “It’s fine. I didn’t, so we don’t have to think of the consequences.” Antler said, tapping his tail twice on the ground. “Should we check the hellscape? Maybe we could catch a glimpse of those weird cats.”

  Fir’s eyes widened and it grinned maniacally. “Oh fuck yeah.”

  It was always so hot in the hellscape plain. Heatstroke was a looming threat, as the sun scorched the earth so indefinitely you never know when rain will quench the thirst of the water-starved ground. He had only seen it rain once, passing through. He had the satisfaction of killing a skinny, starved little weasel thing back then. Now, of course, Fir flitted along with him.

  “Fuckin’ hate this place. Too hot, bad memories.” Fir sniffed, fanning itself with its wings. It went from flying to perched on Antler’s head, right between their ears. It was a move it had seen Ranger and Hacksaw do, and proceeded to copy. Of course, the coyote and the hawk didn’t mind Fir being a copycat. Everyone loved the little fucking murder air mammal. Including Antler, though he would never admit it. 

  “Have you ever encountered a little blue cat out here?” Antler asked, tilting their head, trotting across the plain. A day’s travel to the edge of the territory where, depending on where you were standing, you could see the blue cat, from Antler’s experience of checking the area.

  “Once, actually! A little blue cat, like Rainhaze talked about, with some white scruff on the chest, and yellow eyes. I mean, that’s what I remember. He was stalking a field mouse or something, and you bet I swooped down and took that little guy. I flew up pretty high, and dropped the mouse, right in front of him. I swear he went ‘A bat?!’ and then I yelled ‘You're welcome! Guaranteed free food, bitch!’ and flew off.”

  “Yeah, I kind of assumed you’d do something like that.” Ant chuckled softly. “When I’m out here, I observe the territory and watch any predator animal I see. Sometimes I see the little blue cat, and he almost always notices me…” He trailed off, thinking.

  “Observant pointy animal.” Fir chuckled, then paused. “Wait. Movement over there. I hear something.”

  Antler squinted, creeping forward. In the distance, near a small patch of some sort of plant. There was some movement, but the shape was blurry from the heat striking off the ground.

  Fir huffed. “Can’t see the bitch from here. I’m goin’ over.” It shot off Antler’s head, leaving the fox making a cross face, a slight pull to the lip. He saw the little shape flit over the bigger shape, then return.

  “Sure as hell is a little blue cat. He’ll probably come over. Good thing our settlement is close to the hellscape plain.” It chuckled, flitting around and then landing between Ant’s shoulders.

  “We are really inspecting this cat. He is like a little bug to us. You know those isopods? The little rolly guys?” He sniffed, watching the little shape, which was moving towards them warily.

  “Of course I do. You literally collect them. I wake up and there are like thirty of them scattered around sometimes. I’ve seen them fully cover the floor of the den sometimes. The den is big. How are you even fucking achieving that.” The bat chuckled. It flapped its wings a couple of times, as if shaking the bugs off of it.

  “I get help. Some of the deeplings and a surprising number of general Defiance members like them and want to collect them with me.” Ant said, watching the shape come close enough to properly see the color. “That’s definitely a blue cat. You weren’t lying.”

  “..You’re saying that Defiance members, animals part of the murder cult, like little bugs enough to fill a den with them?” Fir murmured.

  But, of course, the cat was creeping over to them, so Antler ignored the bat, and gently moved towards the cat. He stared in fear at the fox, who stared back, emotionless. Fir flew around the cat, watching, silent for once. The two had a moment, then Antler broke the tense atmosphere by taking a little isopod from his neck fur and gently setting it down in front of the cat. 

  “HOW MANY OF THOSE DO YOU FUCKING HAVE?!” Fir yelled from their overhead flying. 

  Antler didn’t respond, and instead beckoned Fir down, and turned away, leaving the cat prodding confusedly at the little bug.

-

afterthoughts: literally love that i made defiance like little bugs. my 1 crowning achievement.

also plot twist fir eats them sometimes out of spite

the doc is called "live antler reaction" and i think that's funny. thanks me from 4 days ago or wheneever i wrote it

(@barrenclan for the @)

[griefology]

it's been going on for a few minutes now. the ranger knows the telltale feel of a gaze on her, the way it prickles the hair at her nape. aradin's fucked off somewhere, as has barth, and the archer was left to hold fort at this shitty little tavern.

the patron watching keeps her busy, though. she isn't even trying to hide the judgement in her gaze as some smarmy human hits on a tiefling woman far out of his league. what she does pretend, however, is that she isn't thinking her friends are doing the same.

❝ out with it, then. i know you're not looking at me for my beauty. ❞ remira sighs, annoyed and put out about having a conversation. her gaze slides to where the other woman sits at her right.

❝ i wasn't staring at you. ❞ @streetsrot counters, but remira's not buying it. she levels her with a gaze that says as much. ❝ look, argue with a wall. are you gonna tell me why you were watchin' me, or not ? if not, i recommend you take your little gaze elsewhere. stool's open at the other end of the tavern. ❞

[adventures-on-foster-island]

Saturday night, Ellisa began receiving emergency alerts from Hoenn. Some kind of storm, bad enough for a region-wide evacuation. "Maybe Kyogre and Groudon are at it again," she thought, "but better safe than sorry."

She gathered the staff for a meeting. "Act like there's a hurricane coming. Get all visitors and Pokémon indoors, do not let anyone leave. Pull down the plastic tarps over the garden beds and secure them well, and close the rainwater collection system so it doesn't flood. Be prepared to take in refugees. Lets also make sure our supply inventory is up to date in case we need to ration." As the island staff hurried off to help prepare for the worst, Lynn rubbed Ellisa’s shoulders from behind, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"I need to go help on the mainland," he whispered.

"You are needed here, and I will not have you risk the lives of your Pokémon like that. They've barely had time to recover from your last trip," she reached up to squeeze his hands on her shoulders, "Walk with me to the docks?"

Lynn begrudgingly followed his partner outside, only to be hit in the face with a putrid odor. The sky was dark and stormy, wind howling in their ears, and they could see waves crashing high against the cliffs as they made their way to the docks where a few passenger ships remained. Captains and crew huddled together on the pier, looking out at the treacherous sea. One Captian stepped forward as the couple approached, "There's reports of a terrorist attack, some kind of acid rain across Hoenn and Johto. Ships are not to attempt to dock at either region."

"Well come on inside then, get warm and dry. Hopefully it will miss us," Ellisa ushered them up towards the main building, but returned to the docks again. Through the binoculars on the pier, she could see several other passenger ships approaching at great speed. "See, my love? I need you here. We've never had this many visitors at once," she turned her vision side to side and could see a wall of rain falling several miles out, and flocks of wild flying and water type Pokémon rushing to get out of it. "Oh Arceus, those poor things. Help me set up shelters please?"

Lynn grumbled but obliged, knowing he wasn't going to make it out past the storm. Their shared time at the ranger academy had given them the necessary skills to make quick work of dozens of shelters, both over the water and on land. As they finished, they began to hear shouting on the radio.

"Ellisa, you need to get back inside. The news reports... you have to see it for yourself but get back inside before you get caught in the storm, over."

The caretaker looked to her ranger and rolled her eyes, believing her staff to be over reacting. "I'm coming, I'm coming, calm down don't scare our visitors, over." The acrid scent on the wind was strong as Lynn and Ellisa made their way back towards the main building. When they arrived, the tension prickled their skin. A quiet murmur ran through the crowded building, eyes fixed on the television screens on the walls of the welcome center.

"Team Snagem leader Victoria holds the world hostage, demanding a battle circuit and Pokémon Centers for Orre. Sources say that she has captured and Shadowfied a Ho-Oh, and it's Shadow Sky is causing the acid rain. Please stay indoors, it is too late to evacuate at this time. Contact with the rain will cause severe chemical burns, and may cause death."

Things were far worse than Ellisa had imagined.

Late that night, once most guests and staff had gone to sleep, Ellisa poured over the books for the day. "At least my grant money is doing some good," she mumbled to herself. The staff had brought her a comprehensive list of every resource and every guest taking refuge on the island. Unbelievably, despite being near max capacity, they had an abundance of water and food to go around. Satisfied with her paperwork, but too anxious to sleep, Ellisa turned on the weather report to watch the storm move. "Lynn, Lynn wake up, you have to see this." She gently shook her partner's leg. After a few moments of fighting to go back to sleep, Lynn gumpily rubbed his eyes.

"What in Groudon's name could possibly be urgent enough.." he stopped talking when he saw the screen. The angry storm moved completely around Foster Island, avoiding it entirely, as if some kind of barametric force were pushing it away. "Well... at least everyone here is safe then. Please come to bed." He crawled back under the covers, pulling his partners arm as he urged her to rest.

When daylight broke, Ellisa checked the news before coming down to the main floor. Everything was awful. The death count was high, and images of the damage were unfathomable. They had to do something.

It only took a few hours to sort out who was willing and able to help and what skills they could use to their advantage. They found some seamstresses to stitch specialized raincoats for flying types, fighting types and stronger humans carried supplies, water types and their trainers filled and sealed containers with stored water, gardeners and grass types harvested fresh berries from the garden, everyone working together as one. By Monday morning, dozens of Flying types had been fashioned with protective gear and GPS trackers, and saddled with baskets of supplies, and sent off to find those in dire need.

To be continued??

[silverequation]

[ajgrey9647]

"I'll keep you warm." + Boom! comics; Coinless Bulk & Slayer Kim~

Protective Wings

So insidiously had the cold penetrated in those early years, Kimberly had scarcely noticed it. It seeped along her veins, crystallizing her blood as it crawled like poison ivy towards her heart. Her skin prickled with the numbness, much as her mind behaved when emotion hysterically screamed for release.

When the realization of her frozen state flashed into her consciousness, the Ranger Slayer was positive she knew the very day those icy tendrils took root. It was the day the world changed, flipping chaotically to the demented, upside-down Wonderland they now inhabited. It continued to grow since then, sprouting poisonous leaves and thorns that kept people away, even her teammates.

Kimberly had been so young, so idealistic; she truly believed that just like all the other times, they would pull it out of the fire at the last minute and save the day. Why would this be any different? Zordon had found the solution and if they could just hold off the attack a little longer, Jason would absorb the White Tiger powers.

The thunderous blast shook the surrounding battlefield, large, jagged chunks of stone raining down from the heavens as their beloved Command Center exploded. Rangers and monsters alike were knocked to the ground in stunned surprise. Thick, black smoke choked the air and obscured her vision as she struggled to peer through it; her eyes burned painfully and blurred with irritated tears.

Powerful white, silky legs stalked through the billowing carnage and her heart swelled with joy. He’d done it! Jason was now the White Ranger, the only one strong enough to stop Rita and her prized Green Ranger, the newly titled Lord Drakkon.

But her smile quickly faltered. The air began to clear and the person who was approaching was not her big brother. In fact, this new Ranger’s fingers clutched a grimy, shattered Red Tyranno helmet as it swung nonchalantly at his side. The familiar ominous laugh echoed in her mind even now.

Lord Drakkon grinned and raised the arm holding the destroyed protective covering. Blood streaked the metal mouth guard, dripping thickly onto the dry, dusty earth. The visor was busted, and the red enamel was laced with deep scratches.

“No!” she’d screamed, sure this wasn’t really happening.

Drakkon turned the helmet’s face towards his own and gazed lovingly at it, before tucking it up under his arm possessively.

“Yes!” he’d loudly gloated. “Your precious leader failed you! He wasn’t strong enough to stop me! And now, you’re all going to DIE!”

Somehow, the remaining Rangers had managed to flee; the details of that miraculous feat nothing more than random snippets now. But they managed to not die and that was what mattered. Civilians had fled with them into the charred remains of Angel Grove to wait out the roving patrols.

That night, despite the pouring rain and the obvious danger, Kimberly found herself surreptitiously returning to the rubble that remained of the Command Center, sticking to shadows and muddy side trails. The weather had never behaved this way before. It even seemed to be weeping for their loss.

The drastic weather changes were only the beginning though she didn’t know it yet. Drakkon’s Wonderland would only continue to stagger towards insanity, shaping itself in an eerie facsimile to the tyrant’s psychotic mind. This night, he already planned Rita’s murder and merely bided his time.  

Physically, the deluge didn’t stop Kimberly. She pushed her soaked and dripping brown hair from her eyes, the water cooling her still reddened cheeks. In the early hours following Jason’s death, she had sobbed buckets for her big brother, the hot tears scalding her skin painfully. Kim cried until she had no more liquid to spare, but it didn’t stop her from rocking and making animal-like sounds of grief.

Jason didn’t deserve this, to be left to decompose under this burned out shell of their headquarters. The thought of him being out here, alone, cold, possibly partially exposed to the elements and scavenging animals had been too much. Even though he wasn’t alive to know what was happening, she couldn’t shake the agonizing thoughts.

Kimberly worked mightily, grabbing chunks of stone and debris, throwing them blindly over her shoulder, hunting for Jason, desperate to find him but also dreading what she was going to see if she did manage to locate his body. She blocked out images of what he might look like, crushed, bloody, swollen, pale and lifeless. It was a sacrifice she would gladly make to give him a proper burial.

She didn’t know how long she’d been out there, only that eventually the rain had ceased, and the full moon glimmered down, giving her some light.

“Kimberly Hart!” a voice yelled, harshly, attempting to not catch the attention of any scouts that might be patrolling nearby. “What the fuck are you doing, girl? Get back here!”

“Go away, Zack! I’m not leaving until I find him!” she’d defiantly answered, continuing to scrabble at chunks of metal consoles and busted tile.

The Black Ranger grabbed her shoulder firmly and pulled her towards him.

“How, Kim? How the hell do you think you can find Jason in all this? He’s gone!” he hissed, hoping to force some sense into her. “If he was alive, Jason would be flipping out, seeing you risk your life like this!”

He took both shoulders and gave her a brisk shake.

“He would also be kicking my ass right now and demanding I get you away from here! Drakkon’s goons are everywhere, Kim!”

Kimberly jerked back from Zack’s hold.

“It’s not right! Jason can’t just be left to rot somewhere out here, getting pulled apart by wild animals. He deserves better than this!” she screamed hotly.

Zack’s eyes widened.

“Shhhh!” he hissed, bringing his finger to his lips and scanning for approaching soldiers. “No one is saying he does, Kim! I can’t stomach the thought either, but it won’t change anything. We have to stay alive so we can stop Drakkon!”

“How, Zack? Jason couldn’t stop him and now he has two coins! He’s stronger now!”

The Black Ranger hung his head, exhausted, frightened, and trying to compartmentalize his own grief at his best friend’s death.

“That’s why you need to come back with me so we can all figure this out. Together,” he whispered.

Eventually, Kimberly had agreed, casting long looks back in case she managed to catch a glimpse of Jason’s body under the moon’s illumination. But there was nothing.

The losses continued to mount as time marched steadily onward.

Billy was the next to fall, sacrificing himself to protect Trini from Drakkon. The Yellow Ranger had watched her blue teammate perish before her eyes; the poor girl had refused to speak or even eat for days. Only Kimberly’s prompting and insistence broke through the haze of grief.

The icy armor had spread like wings, blunting her emotions and allowing her to speak harsh truth to Trini. But one death rolled into another. The people around her were falling like dominoes. There had to be a way to end it before everyone dear to her was gone.

Kimberly’s heart was being drawn to a dark, vengeful answer. Kill Drakkon! Slaughter him as cruelly and painfully as he’d done to the others he’d murdered. The tyrant perpetuated several rumors over the years, using Jason’s death as nightmare fuel for the remaining former Rangers, whose coins he’d managed to pilfer.

First, Drakkon claimed he’d stabbed Jason. Then it grew more elaborate and horrifying. The monster added details like decoration to a cake.

He’d slashed Jason’s throat, watching him bleed out like a chicken with its head cut off.

He’d snapped the Red Ranger’s neck, but since it was early days, he’d done it wrong, causing Jason to suffer. Showing his enemy mercy, Drakkon had then strangled the gasping teen with his bare hands.

He’d beaten Jason so badly the Ranger went into convulsions, so he’d kindly slid his blade into the boy’s heart.

Each iteration made Kimberly more and more sure that was going to end the motherfucker. And she’d do it alone. No one else was going to die by this demon’s hand.

Those who knew Kim watched in horror at her transformation, this one not due to Drakkon’s magic but her own freezing heart. She never cried anymore, barely flinched in battle, destroying Sentries so brutally that the former bubbly Pink Ranger was a distant memory.

Her fellow Angel Grove classmates, Bulk and Skull had tried to reach her to no avail. Knowing that she most likely wouldn’t listen, they still attempted to bring back some of the sweet, soft girl they used to tease. Nothing. She stared at them with blank eyes, not even annoyance gracing her features.

The night before Skull left to join the Sentries, he and Bulk met in their hang out in the latter’s basement.

“You sure about this?” Bulk whispered, idly plucking at the broken knobs of his gaming controller. This action had always soothed him even though the days of goofing off playing video games were gone.

“I’m sure, Bulky. If I can get in with the Red Sentries, I can find out Drakkon’s plans before he strikes. I want to help them. They’ve always saved us before we even knew who they really were,” he answered sadly.

But there was also an undercurrent of anger.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Drakkon killing Billy, does it? You won’t get in there and do something stupid, right? We’ve never been fighters, Skull, not on that level anyways,” Bulk stated, staring into his best friend’s eyes.

Skull shrugged, his expression hardening, making him look very much like the strong man he would become.

“Maybe it does. I never had the chance to tell him how I felt. That I was in love with him. And that I was sorry for how I treated him before. It eats at me, Bulk. I saved him once. Why couldn’t I save him again?”

The other teen put a hand on his shoulder.

“You couldn’t deflect Drakkon’s weapon, Skull. Billy knew the risk being a Ranger. No one thought that fucking dick, Tommy, could do something like this. I wish I would have just beaten his ass like I wanted to,” he growled.

Now it was Skull’s turn to point out the obvious.

“You kick Oliver’s ass? I love you Bulky, but we both know that would have been a massacre,” he chuckled gently. “You sure you can’t tag along? It’ll be a grand adventure.”

Bulk shook his head resolutely.

“No can do, buddy. I can’t leave the three we have left. Who will take care of them? Because they won’t do it themselves. Someone has to make sure they eat and get rest. Someone has to look out for them because they’re blind right now,” he ground out. “I never saw myself as a mother hen-type but here I am.”

Skull nodded in understanding.

“I know you’ll do a good job, Bulky. And I’ll be careful. Cross my heart I won’t try to take Drakkon out myself. Just feed information back to you guys. Deal?”

They shook hands, each fighting back tears at potentially never seeing the other again.

“Keep an eye on Kimberly especially, Bulk. She’s changed a lot and not for the better,” he said, then laughed. “Not that there’s anything better anywhere now.”

“You got it, pal. I hope she doesn’t do something stupid. We can’t take anymore loss.”

When Skull departed the camp, Bulk dutifully kept his end of the deal. Being the only one that the lanky trusted with his secret plan, he’d acted as surprised as the rest to find him gone. He was sure the others didn’t exactly buy the notion that he had no clue where Skull had gone, but they had bigger problems brewing and let it go.

Bulk had always had a stubborn streak, rivalling that even of Jason Scott. The former bully hadn’t been all that shocked to learn that the dark-haired teen had been the Red Ranger. Scott had always been a hero-type, sweeping in to save the day when Bulk’s antics got out of hand and even standing up for him, when Bulk was on the receiving end.

He shook his head in frustration. Of course, everything made sense after the fact. The ferocity of the new kid’s rage, his hateful rumors and innuendos, the way he’d targeted Jason, Kimberly, Billy, Zack, and Trini. Most especially his twisted obsession with Jase. That had earned Tommy his own juvenile, gossipy rumor.

A fellow outcast named Stewart had commented that it seemed like this Oliver kid was attracted to Jason and that’s why he couldn’t stop stalking the object of his rage. Others around at the time and who had overhead this observation ran with it. Once it got back to the football team, a big, burly player, Kevin, had stupidly yelled at Tommy during a convocation, with a large audience of bored, antsy teenagers.

“Hey, Oliver! Why don’t you and Jason just fuck already and get it over with? Stop drooling over his cock and obsessing over him!”

Laughter erupted and Kevin had smiled smugly at his cheekiness, catching high-fives from the other players seated around him. Jason, who had also been sitting nearby, heard the screamed insult and cast wide eyes at the green clad teen. He was tensed waiting for an epic explosion.

But Tommy smiled beatifically before turning back to the presentation.

Later that day, he’d caught Kevin in an empty stairwell between classes and beat the piss out of him before tossing him down two flights of stairs. He’d lain there for quite a while before being found. Bulk watched as the boy was taken out on a stretcher to a wailing ambulance. He’d also watched Tommy smirking from the back of a large group of students watching the production.

That time, Bulk had gone to Mr. Kaplan and told him about the convocation incident. But there was no proof Tommy had done it. Jason tried to take matters into his own hands later and he and Tommy had banged each other up pretty bad before a teacher stepped in.

‘I should have helped Jase stomp a mud hole in that fucker,’ Bulk seethed.

No use crying over spilled milk though, so the teen firmly upheld his own upspoken set of rules, keeping the remaining trio fed and fussing at them when they behaved foolishly. Rather than chafing under his wing, Trini and Zack nestled in, seeking some kind of relief. Kimberly, however, rebelled and did so with an obstinate air.

She refused to be soothed, instead drinking in all the rage, grief, and pain; she froze it in an icy, sparkling cage. Maybe one day there would be time and strength to address it. Maybe not.

Kimberly disappeared one morning with not so much a so long, farewell, kiss my ass. Nothing. Off to kill Drakkon, everyone was sure. The grieving of her loss had already begun, as no one could foresee Drakkon’s fall at her hands. Imagine their surprise when she reappeared, wearing new regalia and wasn’t there to help.

She was Drakkon 2.0 only without his wild outbursts of fury and outlandish theatrics. The Ranger Slayer was a cool customer, cutting through the resistance like butter. Her reputation dripped with blood on a par with the tyrant’s. Her betrayal severed her already tenuous connection with the surviving civilians she’d coldly ignored prior to her departure.

Bulk would never admit to the tears he shed every night as he prepared dinner for Trini, Zack, and himself. Hunkering over a hot stove and occupying himself preparing the ingredients made it easier to wave off anyone who attempted to enter and chat. That was his time to release his pain in peace so he could keep a calm head the rest of the time.

He’d always harbored a secret torch for Kimberly despite it being Skull who always asked for dates and kisses. Bulk knew now it was a way for his best friend to secret away his true pining even from himself. Eugene always had a fondness for the Blue Ranger after saving him at the mall; at one point he’d mused to Bulk if it was possible to love someone you’d never really met, to have a strong connection to a faceless person.

Bulk wished everyone involved in the whole sordid mess had just sucked it up and been true to themselves: Skull’s love for Billy and/or the Blue Ranger (when he didn’t know they were one and the same), his own love for Kimberly, and potentially Tommy’s longing for Jason Scott.

What a fucked up, hot, dumpster fire of an ordeal!

Then Kimberly again returned, this time not as herself not the fearsome Ranger Slayer. An angry mob surrounded her, calling for her execution; some even threw rocks at her which she made no attempt to deflect. She curled before the crowd, like a new nestling, small, pink, and blind.

Until Bulk swooped in like an incensed hawk, stepping in front of her with his large arms spread wide.

“Enough,” he had bellowed deeply, eyes flashing. “She said she was under Drakkon’s spell!”

“LIES!” someone yelled, throwing another stone.

Bulk easily deflected it and took a menacing step forward.

“The next person who throws a rock is getting it stuffed up their ass!” he warned, jabbing a finger. “If anyone has a problem with her, you are going to deal with me.”

Turning, he knelt and pulled Kimberly into his arms, helping her to her feet.

“Drakkon’s dead,” she murmured softly into his neck.

“What?” he asked in shock. “Dead? For real?”

Kimberly nodded, her body weak against the strong frame of the former bully. He hugged her tightly then and suggested the only thing he could think of.

“Let’s get some food in you. You’re about to fall over!”

He scooped her easily into his arms and shoved his way through the stunned and angry group. Trini and Zack watched as he entered the shelter, they called home, cradling the exhausted brunette. They stood silent while he deposited her into a chair and set to work preparing a delicious smelling stew.

Kimberly hugged her arms around herself, shivering and not just with the temperature. It was a deeper cold than she could explain. Of course, Bulk noticed and paused his preparations to kneel beside the woman’s seat.

“You’re ok now, Kim. You’re safe,” he whispered gently.

Shaking her head, tears beginning to well for the first time in years, Kimberly responded.

“I’m not ok, Bulk. The things I watched myself do and say…. And I’m so cold.”

She shuddered heavily.

“I don’t think I can ever get warm again.”

Bulk stood and slid strong protective arms around the love of his life.

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, Kimmy. I’ll keep you warm. Until you’re able to do it again yourself.”

Now the floodgates opened, the damn broke and all the swirling, frothy, turbulent swell surged forth in torrents while Bulk’s embrace held her steadfast in the hurricane of buried emotions.

[wisheduponastar]

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « Whumptober Day 7 »

Wordcount : 2.2k / Read on Ao3

Only for emergencies | unconventional weapon | magic with a cost | “it’s us or them”

Summary : It's been almost three years (two years, seven months, and sixteen days later), and Faramir is doing better around fire. Good enough for most of his life, good enough for almost every event that he can think of. What Faramir does not think of is an ambush. Or an ambush with fire.

Or, Faramir is hit with a burning arrow. Aragorn is quick to help.

TWs : PTSD elements, injury

Almost three years later (two years, seven months, and sixteen days later) Faramir can say he is almost all better. In a way, he was lucky with the fire. Or at least that is what he tells himself. The flames burnt only on the first layers of skin, skin that could regrow. The only lasting (physical) damage being scarring - an occasional twinge of pain. A look of pity at him, at everything the steward has been through. But he can survive such things. He must.

His mind is better, as well. Most of his nights are now spent dreamless, and when he wakes up it is because of the chiming of a bell - not because he feels rings of fire enveloping him and burning him alive. Faramir can fully abide candles, putting them out by pinching the flame between two thumbs - in a way that always worried Boromir - and does not mind their presence. (A small part of him still prickles and causes his hand to freeze once he has touched the fire, but that is more of a pain instinct. A natural one.) He can even stand larger fires, one as big as the pyre he… When he stands near them he cannot smell burning flesh anymore, or anything else that used to happen when Faramir would gaze upon it. Yes, he does not like standing near them - but that is only a small concession in what is otherwise a victory. Besides, he has never abided by fires anyway - they make him clammy too quickly, especially in the dressier robes he now so often wears.

Gripping the reins of his horse, Faramir stares at his hands once again. He doesn’t usually see them like this - white against something and in dusk - and for some reason his brain is endlessly fascinated by what his body has become. Never mind that these are the hands that have stuck with him for so long, or that surely he’s seen them in this position before.

“Faramir?” Aragorn is beside him, or as close to that as you can get on horse-back, and he too is holding the reins in his hand. Positioned to speed his horse up. Instantly Faramir gets into the position, nodding his assent and trying not to feel too guilty. They’re just hands, just his hands. If Aragorn had noticed the situation, which Faramir rather suspects he has, the king keeps quiet and allows them to keep riding. Or perhaps he wants to draw attention to it when they are not with other rangers.

The ride continues to be uneventful, and Faramir begins to set his sights on the road they are to travel ahead too. When his eye catches something else, always drawn to it. The strange flickering of fire, recognisable to him even in dusk. Even when concealed within trees, and with shapes standing around it and bearing ill intent. Faramir realises what is about to happen just as the fire illuminates a bow, and an arrow begins to fly through the night.

“Ambush!” His horse instinctively rears at the noise, and Faramir splits his attention between staying on his mount and making sure that his king is not hurt.

The arrow directed at Aragorn does not hit him, the arrow directed at Faramir does. He turns just in time to see an arrow go through the night, somehow ablaze and perfectly illuminated. He can see the fire soaring towards him, its tip perfectly pointed, and yet Faramir feels he cannot move. He cannot look away from this sight, from this pain. The memories of burning pain are just taking hold when they are replaced with a tangible cause. His mount begins to flee from the fire, and so Faramir does not take it to the chest.

Arrows are also not designed to be set on fire - at least not often - and so this one dips, embedding itself in his forearm. The pain is not too bad, not for an experienced soldier, but it is the burning. Letting go of your horse as it rears is not a logical move, but Faramir is not governed by logic. He is governed by fear - fear and pain. And the innate knowledge that he must get this fire away from him. Fear makes him grasp hold of the arrow and pull, although thankfully the arrow doesn’t come out.

The brief clarity given to him by pain is enough for him to change tact, instead snapping off as much of the flame as he can and throwing it away. His hand is burning, burning enough that fear makes him immediately discard it. Near his mount. Unsurprisingly the horse rears again, and this time Faramir thinks he is falling. He isn’t entirely sure. He can still feel the heat on himself, can begin to smell burning flesh. Faramir is only sure that he is being burnt alive.

Aragorn hears Faramir call out that there is an ambush, instantly beginning to turn his horse so he can see the full extent. He sees the first arrow coming towards him, and he bends slightly to the side - watching as others come from the treeline. Aragorn acknowledges the calls from fellow rangers in a way a soldier does, not focusing on the individual but rather the collective. The fact his troops are quick to go to the enemy and return fire. Fire their enemy has quite literally attacked them with.

He has seen fire arrows a few times before, but generally in sieges or against wooden structures. The weapons themselves are impractical, and he wonders who is actually attacking them. If they know they are attempting to ambush the High King. Blazing through the night another arrow is illuminated, and this time Aragorn watches its path as he urges his horse forward and towards their attackers. And that is when he sees it hit Faramir.

The flames lick up towards his face, and Aragorn can see the frozen expression. The terror in Faramir’s eyes as he instinctively reaches for it, desperately clawing to try and get the flames off him. Just as the arrow vanishes, flames begin to spread to his tunic, catching on the cotton, a fact Faramir does not recognise as he is quick to throw it away.

“Faramir, the flames-” In the second it takes for Aragorn to begin to call, he sees Faramir fall off his horse and to the ground. The steward rolls once, twice, both to avoid his horse and dampen the flames, but then seems to almost give up. Confident in his companions, Aragorn turns his horse back to Faramir - instructing it onward and dismounting while in motion, going as quickly as he can to him.

Once Faramir has stopped rolling he seems almost catatonic, curled in on himself and not moving if not for the ragged breathing that makes his body shape. The slick movement of blood that dribbles down his arm onto the earth, open flesh occasionally shining in the moonlight. It has been a long time, to his knowledge, that Faramir has had one of these episodes - and even when they were frequent he would never let anyone deal with them. Aragorn would take the fire away, hold him and reassure him that any threat he sees is gone now. He cannot take the fire away this time.

But he can still hold Faramir close, try to reassure him. Looking up, Aragorn checks to see what the ambushers are doing - if this is safe. The noise of the fighting is dying down, and he can hear Faramir in pain. Even if the fighting was ongoing, he still isn’t entirely sure if he’d care. Because he immediately drops down to his steward’s side - assessing the situation.

The bleeding isn’t as bad as he’d thought, it’s slower and sluggish up close. Although the arrowhead is still embedded in there, splinters of wood both sticking from the broken shaft and into the wound. As the wound flexes again more splinters are shown, the wood flaking into his skin, and Aragorn tries not to wince. It’s better than having it be on fire, he supposes, for many reasons. Gently, Aragorn places his hand above the wound - bracing incase Faramir tries to struggle against it.

Instead Faramir lets out a feverish moan, like he did when he was on pyre all that time ago. He’s not moving in the same way, and so Aragorn begins to press more firmly, both to stop the bleeding and to bring Faramir out of whatever evils plague his mind. “Faramir. Faramir, it’s me.”

“I-” Something in Faramir is more lucid, and when his eyes turn to look at Aragorn there’s recognition in them. The next words are only a whisper, “Don’t let me burn. Please, please don’t-”

“I’m not.” Aragorn pulls his steward closer to him, taking care not to jostle the wound while still making sure they’re close. “See, you’re next to me. And I’m not burning, so you’re not burning. You’re okay here, I won’t let anything happen.” He doesn’t say they’re safe, there’s always a chance of something, so he only says what is true. Because he will not let anything happen right - when there are the two of them. Faramir takes a deep breath, more steadying, and he looks more aware as he looks around. Aragorn moves a finger to hide the wound from sight when Faramir tries to see it, rewarded by the slightly exasperated noise his steward makes. It’s jesting, but he can still hear the tension in Faramir’s voice.

“I promise there is no fire, Faramir. You can check.”

It’s a small, simple routine the two had established. Of Faramir’s hands meandering to wherever the fire had been, whatever is around him, taking in the coolness of the flesh. He can feel the simple cloth and leather of Aragorn’s chestplate, the gentle spun of the trousers - a little more suited to a king, if not entirely. The dagger that sits on his belt - showing a ranger. He looks for permission to unsheath it, which Aragorn grants with a nod, and he feels the metal. It is cold, not branding level of heat. Not any level of heat - if you do not count the residual warmth of humanity.

“No fire?”

No matter how many times he’s said it, Aragorn’s voice always remains steady and never judgemental. It makes Faramir safe to respond, however he feels. Today, he’s better at it, “No fire.”

“So just the arrow wound to your arm.” Aragorn smiles slightly as he sees his steward start, almost as if he’d forgotten about it. “I apologise for not doing anything with it beforehand, I just wanted to make sure it would be safe for me to touch you.”

“Thank you.” As soon as Faramir says the words, Aragorn tightens his grip on the wound - watching as the blood slows a little. Working together, Faramir gives Aragorn the bandages and tries not to make a noise of pain while Aragorn ties the wound.

Getting closer to the arrow shaft, Aragorn looks at the splinters together. “Do you know how far we are from Minas Tirith?”

“Only an hour more, your majesty.” A voice answers from behind, “It was simply bandits. If you wish, the two of you can ride on. We can follow with the survivors.”

“Were there casualties?” Much to Aragorn annoyance, Faramir pushes himself to stand - at least not putting any weight on his injured arm.

“None on our side.”

“You should ride.” Aragorn stands up as well, holding the bandage and trying to refrain from tutting like a worried mother. “Gently, as not to aggravate the wound. Get it treated quickly.”

“You need not treat me like a child, Aragorn. But as a-”

A slight hiss of pain escapes him as Aragorn wraps the rest of the bandage around, feeling the wooden splinters digging into his skin before settling again. Aragorn simply gives a nod as he ties off the bandage, “Ride, and inform the healers of wooden chips under the bandage - get them to take them out as soon as you arrive.”

“The roads are hardly safe to stay on.” Faramir looks back to the grove where the other rangers are, “It is not safe for our king to be on.”

“I would not abandon troops, nor would I keep an injured soldier on the field.”

There’s a second more of silence before the ranger speaks again, “Sires. It might be worth… it might be worth both of you travelling together, with appropriate guard, of course.”

“I don’t want to slow you down.”

“You won’t.” Aragorn’s voice is steady, “Very well, if you are sure. We will ride together, at an appropriate speed. One that will not aggravate your wounds.”

Something in Faramir, conditioned by so many years, wants to protest that he doesn’t need any of this. That he will be able to keep up with the rest of the riders, before he realises why Aragorn is saying it. This offer is a genuine one, and not a belittling one. The same he would offer any of his troops if needed. And so Faramir lets himself breathe, and prepares to mount his horse, “I’ll try to keep safe.”

[2plottwist]

Spin Off - Chapter 1

Pairing: Astarion x Female!OC (Kynna)

Characters: Kynna, Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart

Warnings: none

Author: Kenna:)

Word Count: 1.5k

Series Masterlist

The rain patters against the window. The small droplets highlighted by the soft lamps and fairy lights illuminating the room. A candle wafts, the smell of bergamot and rosemary, through the dimly lit room. The brightest light in the room comes from the computer, way too overheated, due to the length I’ve been playing this game. 

The Baldur’s Gate 3 video game has been out for well over a year and I’ve never stopped playing. The amount of time I’ve played this game is concerning. The line of characters I’ve made goes out the door, each race and class mix matched among themselves. My favorite so far? Kynna, a wood elf ranger, completely in tune with the nature and animals around her.

On nights like these, where the rain and wind move past my window in bursts, the darkness of the house is finally silent. My stresses and worries of work and bills slowly disappear. The anxiety that creeps into my brain as I scroll through endless “for you” and discover pages of social media platforms dissipate into nothing. My world calms when I enter this adventure-filled, magical video game. It kind of sucks that it’s fake. 

Failing a critical role after using the rest of my inspiration to re-roll, I decide to call it a night. I have to be up early tomorrow and I could easily play this game until 3 am. I bring my party back to camp, making sure to check in with all the characters and have enough camp supplies to “sleep”. 

As I bring the game to its menu, a small purple spot appears on my screen. As it grows, the glowing light fills the room, exerting white sparks that prickle my skin. I jump at the contact, What the Fuck? My stomach drops and my heart races as I forcefully press the power button of my computer. I can’t ruin another fucking computer with this game.

Fear like I’ve never known envelops my entire body. My legs go numb and my eyes burn causing tears to drop to my cheeks. Shit, Shit, Shit! My incessant pounding of the power button does nothing to lessen the increasing light and heat coming from my computer. I yelp once burn marks appear on the tops of my thighs. 

I jump out of my bed and throw the laptop on the sheets. Cowering as far away as possible, I panic, dropping my head between my knees, and wait for this nightmare to be over. My cries are drowned out by the whirring and whooshing of light racing around my room. The last thing I sense is the pounding of bright purple light behind my eyelids, then silence. 

Crickets and a crackling fire replace the silence. Tears still soak my face when I look up. A night sky, stars shine when I finally open my eyes. Goosebumps rise on my skin as a light breeze moves past my body, bringing with it an absence of the candle I’ve been burning. 

Oh my god, my computer exploded. It blasted me outside.

My thoughts race, but my body stays as still as a statue. My muscles begin to scream with the amount of tension that coils through my arms and legs. I drag my eyes from the sky to take in the rest of my surroundings. 

Thinking I would see the tan sidings of my house, my eyes widen at the fact that I’m surrounded by large trees and grass as tall as my knees. The smell of dirt and pine move through my senses as a small butterfly quietly floats across my vision. Where on Earth am I?

My body gains the strength to stand. I look down and see that my pajamas were replaced by a worn leather top and green cotton fabric. My legs are covered in leather pants and boots that reach my knees. My stomach drops, fear continuing to rack my body. I wimp my head around, nearly throwing myself off balance to see familiar tents and bed rolls circling a burning fire. 

My entire body goes numb, “Oh. My. God,” I grab my face and shake my head, “No,” I whisper. 

My fight or flight kicks in causing my feet to move without intuition, I run the opposite way of the camp. Before I can make one step, my face slams into a wall, bringing my feet out from under me and my back to the dirt. My head spins with the impact, my vision blurring but catching a glimpse of bright purple reminding me of the glowing light that I saw just moments ago. 

“Kynna?” a low voice breaks my blurring vision. The name of my character, my nickname, hits my ears and brings my body back to the present. 

I open my eyes again to see Gale? “What the fuck,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes, trying to get a better look at the figure towering in front of me. 

The figure rolls his eyes, “Language,” he sighs, extending a hand towards me. 

I flinch at the action and dig my heels into the soil, confusion racing through my head and fear still willing my legs to run in the opposite direction. 

“Kynna? Are you okay?” Gale asks, tilting his head in confusion. 

I shake my head. This isn’t real. This is a dream. 

My hand moves to my neck and I pinch, hard. Pain pricks my senses leaving me with the horrid thought that I’m not on Earth anymore. Taking in a deep breath, I rest my hand on my throat, feeling divots in the skin there. 

My eyes widen again as my fingers quickly run over the two holes gracing the skin, “No way,” I whisper as I dig my fingernails into the small scars. 

“Don’t act surprised,” Gale huffs, finally grabbing my arm and pulling my body upright, “He has you wrapped around his cold, half-dead finger,” 

My eyes are dry with the length of time they have been bulging. “W-what?” I whisper.

“Astarion,” he says quickly, “Don’t act dumb, we all know.” 

“Did I hear my name?” a sultry voice sweeps across the air. Silver hair peeks out of a red tent across the clearing. A bright smile and red eyes breaks through the darkness of the night, fangs protruding from his lips. 

Astarion. My breath hitches in my throat, and I step back, quickly tripping over a bedroll conveniently placed on the ground. My back meets the soil again, “Gods,” Gale snaps. 

“What in the hells is going on over there?” a booming voice radiates from the woods behind us. Bright red skin moves through the leaves soon bringing Karlach into focus. 

“Oh God,” I whisper rolling over on my stomach to see the large tiefling. 

“Kynna, come on,” Gale huffs again, grabbing the back of my arms. 

Fire erupts from his touch. Fear finally reaches every inch of my body bringing violent shivers and bile rising in my throat. “Don’t touch me,” I snap, pushing myself off the ground. 

Finally finding my strength, I quickly step away from the light of the fire and into the dark brush surrounding the clearing. 

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, moving vines and branches out of my way, “There’s no fucking way this is real.” 

I stop once I feel like I’ve made a safe distance between myself and the fake video game characters. I drop my hands to my knees, focusing on bringing my breathing back to normal. My head spins, thinking of the sequence of events over the past few minutes. 

Game. Spot. Purple. Heat. Gale. Astarion. Karlach. What the fuck?

Bile finally reaches my mouth and I empty the contents of my stomach. Violent shaking and whimpers overtake my body. Tears spill over my face. I drop to my knees in front of my waste, hair falling in front of my eyes. 

I take in my appearance. My hair is long and wavy, small braids scattering through the locks. My hands are gloved, except for my fingers. The green shirt is folded to reveal my forearms. My ranger clothes. 

Kynna. I remember Gale calling me. My avatar in Baldur’s Gate.

My name is Kynna. I’m a wood elf ranger from the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. I’m in the forests of Faerun. My companions are camped out for the night after a day of adventure. I have a mind flayer parasite crawling around in my head. 

My eyes move back and forth through the dirt, trying to sort through my racing thoughts. I could feel the leech moving behind my eye. Another wave of nausea rounds my body and I heave more of my insides to the ground. 

Lifting my head and wiping my mouth, I lean my back against a tree, chest still quickly moving with each breath. What am I going to do? How did I get here?

No matter how many times I ask myself that, the answer won’t fall out of the sky. I decide there’s only one thing left to do, the one thing I know I’m the best at. Play the game until I wake up.

[savageshadows]

shdwtouch asked: Send "accident" to accidentally pull on the tail (from shade, please know she is immediately apologizing)

the chimera leapt to massive paws as pain shot up her spine. with a spin, teeth bared and ears flat, be'lakor snarled loudly. it was a reaction, quick and without thought. perhaps if she remembered that she was traveling with others, a rare occurrence, then the reaction might not have been as violent.

shade was supposed to be out and about in the town near. be'lakor didn't want to go in to trade but gave some goods to the other hoping they'll be able to replace the dirty backpack or hole filled sleeping bag. stupid! be'lakor cursed at herself for allowing to nap, to let down her guard.

as soon as the chimera breathed in the ranger's scent and took in the smaller form cowering below, there was slight embarrassment. she lowered her prickled fur around her shoulders, swishing her short fluffy tail and huffed particularly in shade's face.

maybe... that was an overreaction.