#hardly anything gets done and a good part of the day is wasted
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
pheebswashere · 1 year ago
Text
@finncomet who are you interacting with dude
diplomats from the breakfast kingdom.
3 notes · View notes
into-the-lokiverse · 1 year ago
Text
Who You Really Are (Loki, God of Stories x Reader)
Summary: When all appears lost to an aspiring novelist, the God of Stories sends a message of hope.
Tumblr media
(credit to @lokitvsource for the gif)
You weren't sure how much further you could go on, or if you could go on.
For years, one of the biggest things you desperately wanted in life was to be a novelist. To entertain with stories of magic, power, action, romance, and a little nonsense.
But lately, as you sat before your desk, exhausted from the day job you relied on to pay the bills, you just couldn't bring yourself to move forward with your debut story. The plot felt too twisted to the point even you could barely comprehend it at times. The characters once vivid, were fading into shadows and dust of their former selves. And the scenes you envisioned in detail started to feel...unreachable.
And yet, you couldn not stop scribbling notes at every random moment of inspiration. You clung to the memory of your characters.
Like a parasite or an infection, the idea of your story plagued your mind for weeks, months to the point where it never seemed to leave you. You could barely think straight about anything else, even cleaning.
Half-drank cups of coffee at every corner of the desk, loose napkins with random thoughts written on them, a garbage can full of tissues, candy wrappers, and tea bags, a folder filled with printed images of your dark-haired, blue-eyed muse, and a stack of books that you checked out for "inspiration" but hardly touched.
The floor surrounding your desk had a thin layer of dust, wherever there weren't fallen pens you hadn't the heart to pick up, or papers you abandoned.
Am I meant to be a writer, or am I simply possessed?, you contemplated over a cup of stale coffee. Am I truly, clinically insane with obssssion? Am I doing the right thing, or have I finally lost my mind? Maybe I'm just crazy...maybe I'm wasting my time, doing the wrong thing that was never meant for me.
Or maybe I'm just not worthy of being the person who...does things. The person who flourishes in doing something they love.
But just as you were about to put your head down on the one free space on your cluttered desk, you spotted a mysterious note in parchment.
It read,
I believe in you.
I believe in every part of you, even in that couple of paragraphs you've stuffed in your desk (which honestly should be cleaned, but you won't do it.).
I believe in you because I know who you could become.
Because I know who you really are. You're a talented, blessed individual burdened with a glorious compulsivity to write and far too much fear for your own good.
But who you really are, it does not matter. It is all about the stories. The adventures.
There is a last refuge for the unloved and the desperate, and the persecuted.
When life gets too impossible, when life gets too terrifying, find hope in this, my talented scribe. That when all else fails, remember that you are a branch on the tree of life.
And in the center of that tree, there is someone watching over you, protecting you like he's always done before, and will continue to do so.
Your branch is just beginning. So marvel me, and marvel yourself with all you do. My blessing is with you.
For all time always.
Loki
303 notes · View notes
newtonsheffield · 4 months ago
Note
Recently learned the term "Golden Slam" in reference to a player who has won all four major titles, as well as an Olympic gold in the same year. I'm guessing Kate is teed up for such a victory? She would be in a rare group of three other women... including Graf in 1988 (and no one since). 👀
Oh for sure.
That’s the question everyone’s asking in the lead up to the US Open. Kate Sharma’s in the best form of her already impressive career. She’s won the Australian Open, French Open, Wimbledon, and not one but two gold medals. All she needs is to win the US Open and it’s done. She’s the defending Champion there and everyone’s talking about it. She’s asked again and Again about it in the lead up, and her answer’s always the same.
“Of course, that would be an incredible end to our season. My team and I have really worked hard this year, we’ve made a lot of changes to the way we do things and we’ve been seeing good results, obviously. But… that’s not really what we’re focused on coming into the tournament. I’m just focused on playing the best tennis I can.”
“Any winter plans after the WTA finals?”
“Yeah,” Kate laughed, “I’m going to sleep in and block my Mum’s calls for a few days. Bless her.”
Outwardly she’s pretending she doesn’t care. Of course she is, that’s who she is. But when she’s alone with Anthony in their hotel room of course it matters. Her head cushioned against his chest.
“I really want to do it.”
Anthony nodded, his fingers making soothing circles against the skin of her back. “You know you can still be the best without it right? You don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”
That was one of the things she loved about Anthony. His firm belief that everything she did should be for her. What other people said didn’t matter. It wasn’t wasting a gift if she didn’t win everything. Mary had tried to tell her the same so many times but it had been a lesson she had to learn for herself.
“I know. But I still want to win.”
Anthony’s chuckle vibrated through her. “Of course you do. We’re competitive monsters.”
“Our children are going to be wild.”
“Thinking about my babies? Calm down Sharma.”
Kate can hardly believe it when her opponent hits the ball and it lands in the net and the tension breaks and the crowd roars. Her racquet fell to the ground in surprise and tears stung at her eyes as she stepped forward to shake hands with the other woman and then the umpire.
Then she takes off running, climbing into the stands to the box where her family’s waiting for her. Tears are running down her face by the time she wraps her arms around Mary, then Edwina and finally Anthony who spins her around while the crowd roars.
“Go take a bow.”
It’s the first question she gets asked when she returns to centre court, a golden slam, how does that feel?
“Honestly, yeah it feels incredible. But, I didn’t do this by myself. Obviously my Mum, she nearly did this in the final year she was on the tour and I wanted to do this for the two of us. My sister who grumbles about filling in as my hitter but I don’t think a lot of people realise that at Wimbledon last year I was probably in the worst headspace of my life. I… genuinely don’t know if I’d still be playing tennis if I hadn’t met Anthony. He’s been a huge part of my success this year and I know he’d disagree with me but this success is his as well. I love you, let’s blow off work and go on holiday.”
The crowd roared with laughter and the season’s not done yet, but it feels done. For her it feels done. One of the greatest there ever was at 23, with years still to come in her career.
66 notes · View notes
darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago
Text
Up All Night 7
Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, narcissim, probably name calling and nasty words, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (older!reader)
Note: I wasn’t serious about this but now I were. Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.
Part of The Club AU
Tumblr media
You drive Drysdale to his overpriced house so he can at least dress like a professional. You wait in the car as he takes his time. You have no illusions. About him or anything else. He’s in no rush but you won’t let him get to you. 
Your phone rings and you answer. It's Laing. At least you can get some work done while Drysdale only wastes his own time. 
“Good morning,” Laing greets. 
“Morning,” you say as you rest your elbow on the armrest, “how are you?” 
“Great, and you?” He asks, a nicety. You know he hardly cares. 
“Good, so you’ve thought about our conversation?” 
“It’s all I could think of,” he says, “I’ll sign the deal but I have a condition.” 
“Certainly, we will find a way to meet it.” 
“You. I only want to deal directly with you. I don’t want to sit in a room with that frat boy dripping in nepotism.” 
You almost laugh. He is a writer, he has a way with words. You only smile as the front door swings inward and Drysdale emerges. 
“I’ll put it across the table. I think we know the answer already but I’ll be sure to confirm it once I speak with my boss,” you say. 
“Mm, hard to imagine him telling you no,” he scoffs, “anyhow, you must have your hands full as it were. I’m still in town. I’d prefer a face-to-face… there’s a lovely restaurant in the hotel.” 
You're not naive about his offer, or that lilt in his voice. “Business, Mr. Laing.” 
“Of course,” he agrees, “we will try to keep it professional.” 
His suggestion tickles the back of your neck, “I’ll let you know when I have the answer.” 
“I’ll send you the details for tonight,” he says presumptively, “until then.” 
You hang up and drop your phone in the slot between the cupholders. Drysdale opens the passenger door and swings into the seat. You reverse before he can clip the seat belt into place. 
“Couldn’t find my socks,” he snickers. He’s trying to taunt you. 
“Oh?” You utter dully. 
“Took a bit but I found ‘em.” 
“Good,” you praise him as if he’s a child showing you a drawing of a crooked house. “And did you put them on the right feet?” 
“Hey,” he snips, “I’m still your boss.” 
“I recall,” you reply curtly. “Speaking of,” you reverse and tweak the wheel so he hits the door, a reminder for him to buckle up, “Laing called. We have a deal.” 
“Yes, I knew I talked him into it,” Drysdale clips the belt into place. 
“Certainly,” you agree dryly, “I’ll meet with him to finalise the papers and we should be good.” 
“You’ll meet with him?” He asks. 
“I mean, unless you’d like to stay late tonight and do it yourself. He has some other obligations while he’s in town so he wouldn’t be available during the day,” you say coolly, “I know you are particularly fond of your evenings.” 
“Whatever. I musta downed a roofie,” he sneers. 
“Mhm,” you hum. 
“Do you have to do that tone?” He huffs. 
“I didn’t do a tone,” you shrug. 
“You did,” he insists, “let’s hit the Starbucks, I need something strong.” 
A strong slap to the head, maybe. You keep that one to yourself. You want to tell him no, like a spoiled brat deserves, but you want this deal to go through so you should appease him. 
“Fine,” you turn your blinker on, “do you want whip cream on top and a cherry?” 
“You’re doing the tone again,” he slouches in the seat as he thumbs his phone. 
You let him sink into the screen. It’s easier that way. Let him play with his toys and have his treats while you get the real business done. 
🧣
You confirm your meeting with Laing in a text. He swiftly sends back the details for his hotel and the restaurant where you’ll meet. You smile to yourself. The credit will be in Drysdale’s name but you can’t help but feel particularly proud of this one. 
“What’s so funny?” Your boss interrupts your internal celebration as if he can hear the very thought of him. 
You sit up and wipe all emotion from your face, “nothing.” 
“You look giddy. Like a girl. It’s strange,” he looks you up and down. 
“Aren’t you happy about the Laing contract?” You challenge, “you know the firm needs this.” 
“Yeah, I know, because I’m the boss,” he says firmly, leaning against the side of your desk. “I had a question for you.” He smirks as he plants his hand flat beside your mouse, “do you always wear those silky little nighties or was that just for me?” 
You blink at him, “don’t flatter yourself.” 
“Ah, come on, workaholic like you, how long’s it been?” 
You restrain a sniping retort. You’ve not known many lightweight like him to do much in bed, if they can even get that far. The thought of him in that context tickles your lip with the urge to curl. He doesn’t seem like the type to know where the clit even is. 
You look away and sigh, “I do just fine, Mr. Drysdale, but I’d be happy to answer that with HR present.” 
“God, you’re such a fucking tight ass,” he sneers, “probably dry as bone with all that salt.” 
You tilt your head and arch your brows. He was singing a much different tune last night, not that you enjoyed his melody. But he can’t fool you. You’ve dealt with men like him before. Their egos can’t handle the slightest hint of rejection. 
“Mr. Drysdale, your two o’clock...” you hum as you check the screen, “I’m not quite sure what it is. The block is blank but I just got a call from legal, they requested your attendance in a meeting--” 
“Can’t,” he dismisses you breezily, “I got better things to do than listen to lawyers. They should be able to do their jobs without me.” 
“I’m sure they can but it’s part of running a publishing house--” 
“Don’t tell me what my job is, secretary,” he retorts, “fucking god. Don’t think because of last night, that you got any authority over me. Let’s get this straight,” he walks up to you, one arm crossed, his other hand pointing at you, “I’m your boss. I always will be your boss, just like you’ll always be a dried up old lady.” He scoffs down at you, “That ass is gonna fall one day.” 
You blink indifferently and spin back to your desk, “right then,” you refuse to let him rile you, “I’ll reply to legal.” 
67 notes · View notes
delimeful · 1 year ago
Text
the roots of something greener (1)
G/T July Day 9: Rainy Day
patreon prompt: kid logan trying to make a deal with fae janus for nyn! hope you enjoy :)
warnings: magical deals, threats, unwilling transformation, implied parental neglect, mentions of starvation and abandonment
-
The first time the child found him, Janus was already in a foul mood.
The day had started out with a light drizzle, and as the hours crept by, it had slowly grown into a far more irritating downpour.
This wouldn’t have been anything near a problem for most fae, and certainly a meager handful of years ago, Janus would have hardly spared it a fleeting thought. Even if he didn’t care to waste any magic on a simple repelling spell, he could have simply slipped between realms, abandoning that particular stretch of human land until the storm passed.
Now that he was banished and bound, however, his options were far more limited.
There would be no leaving the human realm, not until his time was served. His sentence wasn’t so harsh as to confine him to a single circle, but being able to jump between this and that ring of mushrooms didn’t help him much when the rainfall was present over the entire forest.
He grit his teeth as a stray drop managed to make it through the leaves above him, the thickest canopy he could find over one of his rings.
Though it was only a single raindrop, it drenched his head and shoulders with ease. His form in mortal realm was limited by the space he was allowed, and the only proper faery rings within these woods were barely large enough for a human to step a single foot into.
He wasn’t sure if only being able to manifest at the same size as a child’s doll was an intentional part of his punishment, or merely a bonus. Either way, it was certainly humiliating enough for him to resent it.
It was in this soaked, resentful mood that he heard the distinct pattern of human footsteps, leaves and other detritus crunching rhythmically underfoot.
“What curious timing,” he muttered irritatedly to himself, turning to face the intruder with a smile that was almost certainly a little too sharp for human tastes.
… And then promptly lowered his expectant gaze a foot or two, because the human approaching him was unquestionably a mere child.
Young, likely barely a decade old, and with the thickest, blockiest pair of spectacles Janus had seen in ages. While the child wasn’t dressed for the weather, he was carefully holding a deep blue umbrella over his head as he picked his way over the muddy forest floor.
The little thing froze for a moment at the sight of him, and for a moment Janus thought perhaps this was some unwise youth that had wandered off from his parents, with no idea what was before him.
Then, he straightened up formally, eyes glinting with excitement, and it became clear that the child knew exactly what Janus was, and likely thought he knew exactly what he was getting into, as well.
(Part of Janus was admittedly relieved. Being locked out of his home realm meant there was no easy defense against humans who stepped into the space of the ring, and he really wasn’t in the mood to dodge the grasping fingers of a toddler who thought him a toy.)
“Salutations,” the child greeted belatedly, quickly reaching up to adjust his rain-splattered glasses with his free hand. The umbrella drooped slightly without the support of both of those undersized arms. “I’m searching for the, um, the fair folk of this wood. I’d like to make a deal.”
How bold, to open with such an attention-grabbing phrase. Janus reclined back slightly, attempting to look regal even with his hair plastered in wet strands across his face. “Well, now. Isn’t it good manners to introduce yourself before making requests of strangers?”
The child’s face pinched slightly, but he’d clearly done at least some research. “You may call me Logic.”
Janus hummed. “Well met, Logic. I go by Deceit.”
“Deceit?” Logic echoed with a frown. “I thought fair folk weren’t able to lie.”
“They’re not,” Janus agreed pleasantly, some of his humor returning to him at the usage of a familiar bit.
For all his flaws, none of the humans he’d tricked over the years could claim they hadn’t been warned from the start.
“Then why,” Logic started, before shaking his head firmly, dismissing the line of questioning in favor of his original goal. Whatever had brought him here, it was clearly important to him.
It always was, when they were willing to make a deal for it.
“I’d like to make a deal,” he repeated, setting his shoulders and stiffening his posture. “I want to learn how to use magic.”
Janus refrained from letting the derisive edge sneak into his smile. “And what could you possibly have to offer in return for that?”
“I can offer you equal knowledge in exchange,” Logic responded, wearing a very serious expression that looked quite amusing on such a young face. “I may be young, but you’ll find that I’m very good at researching.”
The offer was exactly what he should have expected from a human child, especially one that had never dealt with the fae before. It was likely that his little research hobby was the only reason he’d learned enough to make it this far.
“My, you certainly have a lot of confidence in the value of knowledge, don’t you?” Janus mused, distantly glad that it was him that the child had chosen to annoy with this, rather than a more power-hungry sort. “Very well, I accept the terms of your deal.”
He held out a hand, and almost immediately regretted it. He’d forgotten how easily dwarfed he was, like this.
When Logic reached out, however, it was with a slow and careful hand, his face scrunched up intently as he used two fingers to emulate a handshake. There was no pinching pressure or crushing grip, only the distinct warmth of human contact and the slight electric spark of the deal being sealed.
It almost made Janus feel bad for what he was about to do.
“Your first lesson,” he announced, pulling his hand back and flexing his fingers absently, “is to never make such open-ended deals with fae.”
Logic recoiled slightly, looking slightly bewildered, and Janus forced his smile into something crueler as the sting of magic grew sharper.
“An offer of any knowledge I please, so long as it’s of equal value? You haven’t even clarified which kind of magic you’re so desperate to learn.” Janus leaned forward slightly, wrapping his hand around the invisible cord of the deal. “I could request your name, control over the very essence of your being, and all I would be required to do in exchange would be provide you with instruction on magic of suitable power. Your terms are exploitable, little one.”
He let the implied threat linger, watching as the implications sunk in and the child’s worry began to turn to fear. The sight of it was a sour curl in his gut, but this was a lesson better learned here and now, rather than later and with more permanent consequences.
“Of course, I have no particular desire to teach you any magic at all, let alone the complexities of magic strong enough to be equivalent to a name.” Janus slowly released all but the tiniest sliver of the potential the deal held. “Hm. I think a demonstration of simple magic will do, to satisfy both your curiosity and mine.”
Transformation spells were painful and slow when cast a certain way, a fact that many of his kin had taken advantage of when dealing with humans. Janus kept the magic brief and painless, because for all his flaws, enjoying the needless suffering of a child was not one of them.
With a snap of his fingers, the child’s form shifted to something more thematically appropriate.
The umbrella clattered to the ground, catching on the breeze and skittering a few feet away from the kitten that now sat on the ground before him, blinking in disorientation.
“Consider our bargain complete,” Janus informed the kid, finally able to speak to him at eye level. “As the last tidbit of magical knowledge I’ll impart, have this: recognition is the key to returning you to your true form.”
Looking as though he was composed of more fluff than flesh, Logic let out a tiny, confused meow. His eyes were surrounded by distinctive, blocky markings, the spitting image of the chunky square glasses that he wore as a human. It was the easiest possible condition Janus had ever set; it was near-impossible to look at the kitten and not see the resemblance.
With a flick of his hand, the kitten was whisked to the edge of the woods that he’d entered from, where there was surely a guardian nearby to find him and undo the minor curse before the sun had set.
With any luck, the experience would scare the kid off from any further attempts at playing with magic he didn’t understand.
Job done, Janus glanced at the abandoned umbrella, lying far out of reach of his undersized mushroom ring, and then turned away with a sigh.
What a waste.
Janus hadn’t been one to keep track of the time, before, but that may have simply been because time was much less linear in the faerie realm. The length between one moment and the next could be stretched or squashed, and so time tended to be more of a feeling than a fact.
In the human realm, things were much simpler. The sun rose and fell and rose again, and that was a day, every time without fail. He could hardly lose track of something like that.
As such, Janus knew that two full days had passed when he next saw Logic.
Logic, not the child, because he was still, inexplicably, in the form of that tiny, barely-weaned kitten.
It had been sheer luck that Janus spotted him; he’d been moving between one ring and the next throughout the day, absently looking for any stray detritus that had fallen close enough to his ring to be tugged fully inside. Any shelter made from such impermanent materials was destined to be temporary, but Janus was tired of the chill, and willing to take any reprieve from the elements he was offered.
Looking at the soggy little beast that was crouched a few meters away, Janus felt an odd sense of guilt crop up within him. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one who had been enduring the weather.
Fur matted and damp from the on and off rain that had plagued the area, body trembling from cold or hunger or a combination of the two, Logic looked like the definition of pitiful.
And why wouldn’t he? For all intents and purposes, the child apparently spent the last couple of days trapped in an unfamiliar body and stuck in a hostile environment, with no aid to be found.
… Why hadn’t someone recognized him? For that matter, why weren’t there humans traipsing about through the trees in search of a missing child?
Logic sneezed miserably, interrupting what seemed to be an attempt to use his new, keener nose to track down a meal. His tiny ears angled back in a distinctly feline form of frustration, a gesture that would have undoubtedly been cuter if he hadn’t been so visibly on the brink of starving.
Well. Janus wouldn’t get his answers if he just left the child there, would he?
“I know you, child,” he said, voice carrying enough to make the kitten’s head snap around toward him. “I didn’t expect you to still be scurrying about like this. Why in the world would you not simply go home?”
Acknowledging his true form did the trick. The spell unraveled like he’d pulled on a loose thread in a knit blanket, the magic falling away with ease and leaving the child in his oversized spectacles sitting there in the dew-dappled grass.
For a moment, he remained like that, folded over on himself like a baby deer laying still and hoping that predators’ eyes would skip over him.
Janus met his gaze and raised a prompting eyebrow, waiting for an explanation on how such a simple curse had gone so wrong that the fae who laid it, of all people, had to be the one to free him from it.
In the next second, Logic had sprung to his feet and bolted. His steps were wobbly and likely fueled by panic alone, but adrenaline was undeniably effective in getting him very far away, very quickly.
“Rude,” Janus muttered to the empty air he’d left behind, and then followed the kid as far as he could manage through his rings, making certain this time that he’d actually left the forest behind.
There still wasn’t a single other human around, let alone one that appeared to be looking for something as valuable as lost offspring. Janus tried not to let the information grate against his scales, with only mild success.
In the end, he still wouldn’t get his answers. It didn’t matter. The child had clearly been scared off for good, so there was no use pursuing the issue further.
He shouldn’t dwell on things he couldn’t change, anyhow.
The third time Janus encountered Logic, the child found him first.
It was another overcast day, with a light sprinkling of rain that was certain to become something miserably damp within an hour or two.
He hadn’t expected any more visitors, and certainly not any that would make it to one of his rings and lurk there, so he’d been more puzzled by the relative dryness of the leaves beneath his feet. In fact, he hadn’t realized anyone was near, let alone guessed just who was sitting at the edge of the faerie circle until a tiny, presumptuous throat cleared.
(Such obliviousness was out of character for him. If the kid had been a snake, he could have bit Janus.
Good thing he’d picked a kitten before, instead.
Even if those, too, had fangs of their own.)
Logic waved a hand, showing no signs of his previous panicked flight– except there was a slightly harder set to his shoulders, Janus noticed, like he was preparing for a difficult fight.
He’d brought a bag with him this time. It was partially open, and Janus easily made the connection between the spare pieces spilling from it and the plastic canopy that had been painstakingly assembled over his mushroom ring. Large and durable, it was currently diverting the rain away from Janus’s circle with streamlined ease.
“Hello, Deceit,” the kid greeted. “I’m back for my next lesson.”
Between them, the deal rekindled, sparking dull embers back to life at Logic’s willful insistence. With a willingness to keep providing knowledge, he could theoretically continue to learn for as many lessons as he paid the dues for. It was one of the many loopholes that were applicable to such open-ended deals, but Janus certainly hadn’t anticipated the child using it against him.
How interesting. It seemed there were still things an ages-old fae couldn’t predict, after all.
From beneath the comfortable shelter of an oversized dollhouse gazebo, Janus tipped his head back and laughed.
103 notes · View notes
nyx-express · 1 month ago
Text
Black.
Tumblr media
Info: This is part of a drabble series I'm starting about colours and their associations with emotions. Starting off with a real bummer, sorry for that. More happy things to come soon!
A/n: This drabble is better suited to spawn Astarion and is my explanation for why it's rather hard to convince him not to ascend, although I think he'd feel similarly after ascending, but would never admit it.
Warnings: Canon-typical talk about fighting, death and Astarion's enslaved life with Cazador and the ongoing abuse
Word count: 670
Astarion - Black [associations: death and mourning, fear and the unknown, emptiness and absence, anger and aggression]
How it would feel to kill Cazador, Astarion could hardly wait. To free himself from his abhorrent master who had kept him as a slave for centuries. He didn’t have the words to explain what he had to endure until now. The lashings, the scars, the abuse and torture he and his siblings had lived through, the starvation, the year he’d been put in a coffin for disobeying! Not to mention his body, which hadn't belonged to him all this time, used to seduce and lure hundreds of souls to the Szarr palace in a myriad of wretched ways.
The anticipation was unbearable, to slit the very man’s throat that had harassed and violated him ever since he could remember. The rush he’d get thinking about it was so deliciously sweet, his fingers itched even when he lay in the Elfsong Tavern’s bed daydreaming. He’d give everything, anything for a chance to end that wicked monster’s life once and for all.
And when he did it, when he finally found him, had escaped the ritual and wielded the blade for the final time, hearing his former lord gurgling his last breath, Astarion felt… nothing. 
Emptiness enveloped him when he looked at the corpse in front of him and sunk to his knees. A terrible pang shot through his head, first in his ears, down his neck and back up behind his eyes. Where was it? Where was this feeling he’d waited for, sought after, for what felt like an eternity? Where was the satisfaction, the glory and relief he had promised himself? He paused for a moment, two. Surely, it would begin to feel good, any minute now. It had to, this was all he had worked for. No, no, this couldn’t be. This couldn’t be it. 
The longer he looked at him, the clearer it became that Cazador’s corpse was nothing more than a man. Just another man, like the countless others he had killed in passing on his way back to Baldur’s Gate. But this was Cazador! Not simply a man or a nameless creature, this was the diabolical beast he had dreamed of killing every night since he had been captured and turned. It had to feel good! By the nine hells, why didn’t it feel good? The blandness of it all threatened to crack his skull.
A half-broken cry, helpless and pathetic, tore from his mouth as he looked up to the dungeon’s ceiling. Up to the Gods that he had prayed to for so long, that he had begged day in, day out, to set him free. None had answered all this time, no, he was the one to free himself in the end. And for what? For this feeling of nothingness? Two hundred years of pure shit for it to feel the same as having killed any other insignificant rival? Two hundred years of his life wasted because of Cazador. Centuries he could have spent on himself, his job in the magistrate's office, hells, he could have been rich by now or have started a family. Instead, he’d been bound to his involuntary pact, to lure in the innocent and foolish for Cazador to play with. All that cruelty, the manipulation and crimes were supposed to mean something!
But what had he expected? For Cazador to crawl to him, wailing apologies and begging for mercy? That he could be the one to laugh and spit in his face for once, before landing the killing blow? Would that have made any difference?
It dawned on him that forgiveness might be the true liberation he had been seeking. But he could never forget, no, he could never forgive what had been done to him. As the realisation hit him, he felt the tears streaming down his face, wet and sticky as they mingled with specks of Cazador's blood. 
No more Cazador Szarr, no more rats for meals, no more lashings, no more seductions. And no forgiveness. Never.
Tumblr media
@bg3-fanfic-reblogs
17 notes · View notes
nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx · 6 months ago
Text
Helpless part 44, who will look for you when you’re the one that goes missing?
TW/ suicidal thoughts, underage drinking, mentions of drugs and sh
Nico layed still, staring at the roof, completely awake. He knew what would happen if he slept, he couldn't go through that again not right now. His head pounded with the pain; bearly breathing he tried to shut his eyes but his only thoughts were the nightmares which were his life. He couldn't do it anymore, he needed something, anything to take the pain away. Unless he actually we through with his plan, Will would kill him, but if it worked it would never get to that stage. He let the darkness consume him like it had endless times before that, opening his eyes in finding himself back in his cabin. His head was spinning, vision blurred and he could hardly keep himself upright but he would be okay, he'd done this hundreds of times before, he was fine. As the Ghost King looked around he saw everything had been taken away, the drugs, the cigarettes, his knives the bottles everything, that was expected, he just prayed they hadn't found the rest. He stumbled towards the bathroom, pulling out the one hollow tile, he knew he shouldn't be doing this, he knew Will would be disappointed but everything that happened was too much, every haunted thought from the past, he couldn't live like this anymore, he couldn't live anymore, he couldn't live. All he wanted was to be a normal fucking person with a normal fucking life. There was no point living when theirs nothing to live for, the only words he could think were 'I'm sorry' sorry for being such a waste of space, sorry for not being what they needed, sorry for never being good enough. He wanted to take back everything, every word he'd said, everything he'd done but it was too late. Ever pain in his life was haunting him, overwhelming every second of every day of every moment in time. He hadn't realised he was crying, tears were pouring down his face leaving him in a shaking mess in the dark. He wish that Percy and Jason never found him, if they hadn't he wouldn't be here, not stuck in having to act like he cared about his life. They'd all be so disappointed, and he couldn't fucking care less, he didn't care because he couldn't bring himself to. He cracked open the bottle a drunk as much as he possibly could in one gulp. He was still here. He drunk again, finishing an entire bottle of straight vodka in less than a minute, his throat stung but he didn't feel it anymore. He felt himself getting fainter by the second, he'd just drunk more than half a litre of vodka in the span of a few minutes. Before he could process what that meant the world went dark, the last thing he heard was a shattering glass. Nico layed, passed out on the floor but the nightmares still haunted him and he now couldn't run no matter how hard he tried.
***
______
POV: u thought you posted this part like 5 days ago
26 notes · View notes
electrons2006 · 5 months ago
Text
A Life of Illness
Chapter One :
Death by Milk??! Part 1
(writers note: this story is based on true facts and and real life experiences of a real person. And yes before u kill me I do have their complete consent to write this)
Whumpee's allergies have been getting worse recently. Every other thing they eat, hives and rashes all over their skin. Caretaker is so worried for their beloved whumpee. "I don't want to eat anymore. If I don't eat there won't be any allergies right?",whumpee says sort of comically sort of in sorrow. "Don't be silly whumpee. I understand it's not easy and you're constantly in discomfort but you'll get better I promise".Whumpee just nods. They are otherwise a very lively kid but this deathly combo of allergies and asthma has affected whumpee more than physically. Just imagine being a 10 year old kid who is allergic to chocklate and wheat! No cakes no pizzas no burgers nothing. All while your friends munch on them and those nasty bullies mocking you when u can't eat the things you love. If that's not enough whumpee can't even play any sports with their friends. They just have to sit outside and watch. Their asthma prevents them from any physical exertion. Days pass weeks pass. Whumpee keeps becoming sadder. They are no longer the lively jumpy kid they once were. But they're a fighter. Caretaker knows that and they're proud of how enduring whumpee is.
Caretaker is extremely careful not to let whumpee get in contact with anything that they are known to be allergic to, but some things just happen. Whumpee isn't the biggest fan of drinking a large glass of milk every morning but if caretaker says it's good for them then it's good for them. Whumpee gulps down the glass full quickly and just as they're going to wash it they collapse. The glass shatters on the floor. Hearing this caretaker runs out to see what happened. Whumpee is on the floor. Their hands and feet flopping like a dying fish. They're unable to breathe. THEY ARE IN ANAPHYLACTIC SHOCK. Whumpee's wind pipe has narrowed to the point its hardly letting any air through. The organ that's supposed to put air into their lungs is itself choking them to death. Without wasting a second caretaker calls for an ambulance.
Unfortunately epi - pens aren't a thing where they live so caretaker can't do anything for whumpee. They walk over to them and even though they're panicking they calm their voice down and tell whumpee that they need to calm down too and stay as still as possible. Whumpee needs to preserve their oxygen. Hardly any air is entering their lungs and whumpee has to take huge efforts for that too. Two minutes go by. Caretaker's hand is on whumpee's forehead trying to calm them down. Whumpee's hands and feet are no longer moving not because they're calm but because they simply don't have the energy. Any energy is spent in trying to breathe. They're tounge has swollen which is making breathing even harder. Whumpee's eyes are wide open in terror. They have experienced difficulty in breathing before but nothing like it.
10 minutes pass. The sound coming out of whumpee's throat is straight out of a horror film. Whumpee's breath has slowed they're getting tired. Caretaker notices. "No whumpee you must try harder. Keep breathing." Since breathing is no longer involuntary if whumpee passes out they are sure to die. Caretaker knows this and it terrifies them. They feel whumpee's pulse. Weak and fast.
"I'm so tired. Am I going to die? Die like this? In the most horrible terrifying way possible? No I must fight I must live", whumpee thinks as they turn their vision from the celeing to caretaker. They can't die on caretaker. Not after everything they've done for whumpee. With a new rush of energy whumpee tries to breath harder. The sounds get louder.
15 minutes pass. Caretaker finally hears the ambulance arrive. They stand up and run to the door. No time for door bells. They open it and 3 people come rushing in. One with a gurney one with equipment to intubate and one with a vial of epinephrine and a few syringe's "300 micrograms epinephrine" they say as they fill the syringe and jab whumpee in the thigh. A lot of time has already passed. Epinephrine takes about 5-10 minutes to take effect. They may not have that kind of time. The person with the gurney who seems to be the oldest of the 3 puts it down. "We have to intubate. Can't take any chances." With the help of caretaker they put whumpee on the gurney and carry them to the ambulance. The person with the epinephrine now attaches a leed to whumpee's finger and a monitor lights up. "You were right sir need to intubate stat. Their O2 SATS are tanking" . (They are referring to whumpee's blood oxygen concentration here). They pick up an iv needle. The vein on whumpee's arm is pretty visible. They insert the needle, whumpee flinches." That's it I'm done. Now you can sleep we'll take care of you" the doctor says as they inject a sedative into the IV. "Night night my prince" caretaker says as tears roll down their eyes.
"why is God so cruel to my dear whumpee" he says aloud without realising. The doctor puts down the syringe for a sedative, squeezes caretaker's shoulder and tells caretaker that whumpee will be fine. The doctor means that in a physical sense but caretaker knows after everything whumpee has been through they will take a while to mentally recover from this trauma. Not being able to breath is no for 15 minutes is no joke. Meanwhile the person with the equipment hands the older one the endotrachial pipes(endo-trachea meaning inside the trachia or wind pipe where the tube is supposed to go. ) and uses the laryngoscope to move the tounge and the epiglottis(a small movable lid above the larynx or voice box that prevents food or water from going down the wind pipe) out of the way to give clear vision into the trachea. The other person opens the bag with the larger tube and guides it into the trachea through the mouth. Or atleast the try "aaah too much constriction it won't go in". They take the pipe out of whumpee's mouth and toss it pick up the smaller one and repeats. Meanwhile the 3rd person grabs the equipment for a tracheostomy ( a surgical procedure where an insicion is made in the neck into the trachea from outside and the tube is sent through there) just in case even the smaller tube doesn't fit through whumpee's mouth, but thank god it does. No surgery for dear whumpee. With one hand holding the pipe they remove a seal from the part of the tube which is outside whumpee's mouth. The person with the loryngoscope takes it out and attaches a bag on this side of the pipe and starts pumping air into whumpee's lungs. Within a minute whumpee's O2 SATS start to normalise. The doctors take a breath of relief. Caretaker has been looking away. This is all too much for them. Their heart breaks for one and one person only and that's their beloved whumpee. They're sobbing their fists clenched. They're blaming themselves for what happend. They should've never given whumpee the milk its all their fault. That's what caretaker thinks. The older doctor who's job is done for now looks towards caretaker. They're very experienced and know exactly what caretaker is thinking. "It's not your fault there was no way for you to know this was going to happen. Your whumpee is going to need you to be strong when they wake up." Yes anything for whumpee. Caretaker wipes his tears off and grits their teeth "I'm always here for you whumpe" they whisper. The panic is gone and there's a sense of calm in the back of the ambulance. The driver still rushing at top speed to get to the hospital. "Uhh sir. Why are they going into tachycardia? "(irregular and fast heart beat) The youngest doctor asks looking closely at the monitor . Their voice full of panic.To be continued....
11 notes · View notes
uloelu · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
Location: Windslar, Windenburg
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(Transcript under the cut)
Next (Part 2)
Scene 1 - Outside the Fosters home (28 Windslar)
Wes: There you are. Thought you might have run away already.
Haven: God, you’re clingy. I checked out a record store in Copperdale with Cassandra. Pretty fucking cool. The perfect place for a jam sesh.
Wes: Cassie, huh? You move fast.
Haven: Very funny. You know she’s dating someone, right? That Sidney Price guy.
Wes: So?
Haven: So, I’m not her type in the slightest. I might as well get used to being a lonely Windenburg farmer.
Wes: Well, then, allow me to be your fairy godmother. Got an invite to a nightclub from Wolf. Remember him? The club’s all the way in Evergreen Harbor, but he swears by it. Here, I’ll send you his text.
Haven: Got it. Dew Point? What kind of name is that?
Wes: They’re weird in the Harbor. But they’ve allegedly got good drinks, they don’t check IDs too closely, and weed’s legal there. What’s not to like?
Haven: And you’re sure it’ll be...my kind of scene? You know what I mean.
Wes: Haven, Haven, Haven. When have I ever led you astray?
Haven: Well—
Wes: On second thought, you don’t need to answer that. Wolf seems right up your alley—don’t think I’ve seen him in anything other than black outside of school. You’ll love him.
Scene 2 - Inside the Fosters home
Heather: Thanks so much for staying over, Rani. To be honest, I thought I’d be all alone on my birthday.
Rani: Alone? You’ve got 5 other teens in this house! I’m jealous, honestly.
Heather: I guess so...but I’ve only known them for a few days. Chloe’s nice, but she’s always at soccer practice or the gym.
Rani: I get it. I know we don’t know you that well, but Marissa and I had fun. And sorry she had to duck out so early—her parents might actually keel over and die if she misses a single science fair.
Heather: That’s all right. I’ll see you both in school on Monday. Have a safe trip back to Oasis Springs!
Scene 3 - Inside the Fosters home
Haven: Makeup done, hair done...I clean up pretty good!
Cassandra, on the phone: [Why am I traveling all the way to the Harbor tonight?]
Haven: Because your new BFF needs a wingwoman. Some guy named Wolf invited Wes to a club, and Wes invited me, and I don’t know anybody else there.
Cassandra: [Wolf invited you guys? He said he had work tonight! That bastard.]
Haven: You know him?
[Do I know Wolfgang Metzinger? snorts Only since he bit my arm when I wouldn’t share my chorizo back in second grade. That asshole’s usually one of my best friends.]
Cassandra: Haven: Usually.
Cassandra: [He does stupid shit sometimes. Can’t help it.]
Haven: Well, let’s hope he’s trustworthy tonight. When I go too long without a date, I shrivel up like a raisin and waste away.
Cassandra: [Haven, you’re sixteen. Dramatic much?]
Haven: Seventeen as of next week, and hardly. [pauses] All right, Wes is ready to go. I’ll be waiting for you at Dew Point, and if you want me to remain a voluptuous grape, then I’ll see you there.
Cassandra: [Never say those words in that order again.]
27 notes · View notes
jeremiah-rose · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
STATS • CONNECTIONS • PINTEREST
GENERAL.
full name: jeremiah allen rose nicknames: jer, j, miah gender / pronouns: cis man, he/him age / birthday: 40, march 27th orientations: bisexual, homoromantic previous occupation: drug dealer , thief , gang leader, henchman birthplace: new york, new york status: single family: john paul rose (brother), charlie rose (sister), maisie o'halloran (daughter, unknown location) strengths: calculating, loyal, dependable, stoic, protective weaknesses: abrasive, callous, sadistic, violent, stubborn time in nyc: 40 years time at the wexley: 39 years, pre-outbreak room: #301
PERSONALITY.
jeremiah’s approachability and mood depends on the day and the amount of bullshit he’s had to endure for that day. in general he’s a bit exhausted all the time from being constantly in motion getting things done. he’s blunt and to the point, not wanting his time to be wasted and he’s impatient in that same sense. despite what people take a surface level, he’s actually quite intelligent, and he doesn’t miss much of what’s going on around him. he isn’t the type to make an impulsive decision unless he has to, he likes to know exactly what outcomes are possible and what he’s going up against. that’s not to say he doesn’t have some reckless moments, but that’s much more in his past unless it means doing whatever it takes to protect those he cares about and is loyal to. when it comes to his work, he can be quite cold and unforgiving, ruthless. but he can have a good time, even laugh once and awhile, if he can find the time to do so– relaxation isn’t a luxury he feels like he’s afforded often.
BIOGRAPHY.
tw: violence, neglect, death, drugs, murder
     jeremiah was born to a mother who wasn’t ready to be a mom and dropped off with grandparents who were done having children. still, they took him in and then did the same with his brother who came along a few years later. to their credit, they made an attempt at raising the boys but by the time a third child came along, his little sister, they were far too along in years to be chasing young children. especially ones like jeremiah who were keen on getting into pockets of trouble whenever he saw an opening. their mother was hardly around and jer gave up on her long before charlie came around. being the oldest, however, jer didn’t hesitate to step up and take responsibility for his siblings and their grandparents when their health started to fail. his siblings were and are everything to him and he’d do anything to keep them safe.
     he couldn’t stop jp from experiencing the disappointment of a neglectful childhood or falling in with the wrong people the same way he’d done. even though he would do his best to keep him from getting into deep, a point of no return where he couldn’t protect him anymore. when it came to charlie both of them made a point to keep her far away from the evils of the world and out of trouble. they all relied on each other and did their part to keep the house running, take care of their grandparents, and survive. jer did his best to take on the bulk of it all, especially when their grandparents passed, but each of them did what they could to look out for each other.
     in order to make ends meet, jeremiah started his hustling from a young age which only flourished as time went on. he started with stealing candy, snacks, and the like from the store and selling it to kids at school for a full profit. later this turned to substances, weapons, and services. he fell in with a local gang that he went on to become one of their leaders through an exchange of power and with him the group grew, both in size and income coming in. this meant after a lifetime of struggling to make ends meet, things were finally comfortable though it didn’t exactly make his life any easier. if he didn’t have to worry about how food was going to get on the table, clothes on backs, and bills paid– he could focus on keeping things steady on the business end of things. 
    until the world flipped upside down for everyone, of course. when the outbreak happened he was out taking care of some people who owed him money. his day was filled with few collections, a meeting with some large buyers, and checking in on members making sure they were getting their job done. but it became apparent those plans were going to be changed when people started attacking others, consuming them. jer feels on the lucky side of things that he was always strapped with weapons and well versed in the art form of violence ( loved and craved it, in fact ). he ended up fighting his way out of the chaos and getting back to the wexley as soon as he could to make sure his family was safe. 
     during a supply run, something to stock up before the worst of winter was supposed to hit the city, jeremiah was separated from each other when a hoard closed in on them. he hid from the swarm of chompers and waited it out, making his plan to get back to the wexley. when he was in the clear, he ventured out only to be met with an incoming snow storm and a group of raiders. in a split second decision, he chose to align with the raiders knowing they weren’t going to be doing much raiding until the snow melted and it was his best chance of surviving through whatever length of time it took for the snow to clear. he held no loyalty to them, though some he had more in common with than he’d like to admit, but because of them he stayed fed and warm until spring. once the snow was gone enough for him to escape, he would– in the meantime, he hoped his people were okay.
HEADCANONS.
saved a girl from the raiders when he left and is attempting to bring her back to the wexley when he comes back
more to come....
6 notes · View notes
fyodoro · 2 years ago
Note
hi hello! i hope youre doing well :] i enjoy reading your writings and i love them very much <3
can i request a tsukasa x gn reader going on a date at an art gallery? whatever happens in the date is up to you! thats all thank you sm!
->𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞
Art isn’t one of his specialties, but the new role he was given requires artistic inspiration. What better way to find this inspiration than an art gallery date?
With Tsukasa Tenma | ty for 388 followers
Genre - fluff | cw - none, Rui is mentioned a bit, the start is a little rushed, kinda short as well…
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“So you’re saying… I have to portray a painting in its beauty in this role?” Tsukasa asked a certain purple haired male.
“That’s right, but I’m sure you’re capable of that. I’ll have the script done in about two days. So get into the artistic spirit by then, yeah?” Rui replied. He had his typical cat like smirk plastered on his face, knowing how sudden his request was. But Tsukasa doesn’t have to be in the art spirit for another week or so. It was only a heads up.
The two parted ways soon after. The whole way home, Tsukasa was brewing up ideas on how he could get the right inspiration. Which leads you to now…
“What are your ideas, (Name)? Stuff like this is hard to find inspiration for without getting distracted!” Tsukasa was pacing back and forth in his room, talking with his hands much more than usual
“Hey now, calm down. Sit down and take a deep breath, we can look for something together.” You welcomed him with open arms, far too open for him to hesitate.
You opened your laptop and started searching, the aspiring star peering over your shoulder. ‘Artistic attractions in my area’ you searched. It was almost baffling how little attractions were around besides art classes.
But you and Tsukasa were persistent and determined. You continued scrolling while he examined every link that appeared.
“Wait- click that one!” He pointed at the blue text, you obliged and were greeted with a colorful page.
“An art gallery…” You realized.
It seemed pretty legit, not to mention it had pretty good ratings. Four stars with over 800 reviews, how wasn’t this one of the first links that showed up?
Clicking through every page the site has to offer, you saw how organized this place was. Through the few pictures alone it seemed so… clean. Not to mention it costed hardly anything to get in, no reservations needed. If you didn’t read through some reviews, you would have thought it was a scam.
“It’s perfect (Name)! I’m sure I’ll get all the inspiration I need there in just a few minutes. Let’s call it a date so time past those few minute’s aren’t wasted!” He exclaimed, far too excited than any other would be to visit an art gallery. But this was Tsukasa after all.
“A date it is, but don’t forget our main purpose for being there!”
“Yeah yeah, let’s just rest up now so we’re refreshed.”
Humming in response, you closed your laptop and placed it on the floor next to the bed. Following Tsukasa under the covers before drifting off to sleep.
Morning rolled around, birds chirping at the large window. You groaned at the sunlight hitting your eyes the moment you opened them, the orange boy next to you seemingly agreeing with your discomfort. Despite that, he got up and stretched his limbs after the long slumber.
He yawned, standing there for a moment before his eyes widen in realization.
“We gotta get ready!” He exclaims.
“Tsukasaaa, we have a few more hours before we have to leave. Can’t we sleep in today?” It was true, the gallery didn’t open for another hour or so. It had to be around 8 in the morning right now, right?
“We don’t have time for sleeping in! Look at the time, it’s 11 now, we overslept already!” He was definitely being a bit over dramatic. You guys went to bed a bit late sure, but you didn’t oversleep that much.
You didn’t bother getting into this debate with him, and rolled out of bed yourself. You deadpanned at him for a moment, making him shiver.
“Hey don’t give me that! Let’s just eat and start leaving, alright?” You nodded in response, exiting his room.
Breakfast was simple, but it was enough to get you through till your next meal. While you ate, Tsukasa took the time to get himself ready before you could take up the bathroom for too long. He knew your morning routine- and it took forever in his eyes. So he insisted you ate while he got ready, and he ate while you got ready. It was a fair deal.
You finished your plate the same time the bathroom door swung open, signaling it’s your turn. After about 30 minutes or so, you both were all set.
“What kind of art do you think we’ll see?” You asked, his amber eyes peering over to your figure.
“Well… definitely paintings?” He chuckled at his joke, while you let out an exaggerated sigh.
The gallery lobby felt so… clean. The floors were perfectly polished and the walls looked so smooth. A warm light filled the entire room, setting the mood for what was in this gallery. You both paid for your own entries, and were finally led to the real thing.
“Now, don’t forget the main purpose of this trip Tsukasa! We’re not just here for a date, you need inspiration for the new role you got!” You whisper shouted. Your words reminded Tsukasa of what he needs to engage in right now.
With that, he carefully inspected the first framed painting on the left. He pointed his finger at the painting, and traced it in the air. If he did this anywhere else, he probably would have been accused of his usual shenanigans.
“I see… its style. The brush strokes are visible, but they blend in perfectly at a distance. But when you get close up… it still holds that same beauty.” He remarked. He smiled proudly at himself for the understanding, and lead you over to the next painting.
He seemed a little more troubled with this one. It had less lighting than the previous painting, and was slightly harder to make out.
“Now, instead of trying to grasp the style, try grasping the painter instead. What do you think they were going for?” You asked. He appreciated your advice, he always did.
“I think… they were trying to make something distinct. Something that looks clear, but actually isn’t. The lack of light pulled that together, I can see why there’s less highlights in this one.”
Tsukasa was typically unserious, but when he was serious, he really was serious. And this was one of those moments. You can tell how badly he wants to get this role pinned down just by the way he’s looking at these canvases.
The next one was loud- figuratively. The colors contrasted each other in all different ways, and carried a more abstract look to it. Unsurprisingly, Tsukasa was quicker with this one than the last two.
“It’s colorful, full of life! I think the artist was doing everything they could to catch someone’s eye with the way the colors line up with each other. It’s bright- but still carries those shadows and highlights.” His hand was holding his chin, squinting a bit at the brightness in this painting compared to all the others.
“So… what do you think you got so far?” You asked.
“I think I understand what painters look for in their paintings. But I also think I understand where their heads are at. Some thrive for attention from others, but others prefer to work in the dark. Either way, both artists are working towards the same goal, a finished painting.” He replied.
You smiled a bit at his words. He was really determined to improve his acting skills, wasn’t he?
“So what’s next, wanna keep looking around? Or…” he cut you off.
“I definitely got the inspiration I needed! Not only that, but I got meaningful time with you as well! Let’s head home now, I need to let Rui know I got my inspiration as well.” He mumbled that last part, a little worried at what Rui wants him to do for this role exactly.
You laughed, and left the gallery hand in hand with each other. Even if it was quicker than you thought it’d be, you got to see Tsukasa in a serious yet sincere demeanor. It wasn’t something you got to see that often, and you were grateful you did today.
It was a nice reminder that despite his typical lightheartedness, he was still passionate and serious about what he does. It’s a part of him you fall in love with all over again every time you see it.
57 notes · View notes
kosmic-arts · 1 year ago
Text
It is Once Again Time To Complain About Things That Don't Matter
Tumblr media
358/2 days is definitely one of the better written kh games, but don't let that fool you. its not like the bar was very high to begin with (i am only partially joking).
i love days, but there is so much wasted time and space in that game. i despise how much characters fainting, falling asleep, having amnesia, and gotdamn brainblasts, are constantly used as plot devices because the writers don't know how to organically move characters along to the next plot point(this goes for all of kh, not even just days). the entire novelty of days is getting to play on the bad guy's side while getting an intimate look at all the cool badass org members, and yet you hardly get to know any of them over the course of the game. barely any time is taken to flesh them out, which is a complete travesty btw, and even axel- who is one of the major supporting characters- ultimately takes a backseat to roxas and xion's emotional angst. its good emotional angst, but theres no reason for it to overwhelm the entire game. and honestly, even roxas himself takes a backseat to xion's even bigger emotional angst! roxas hardly gets to know who or what he is, whats going on, or what for. roxas is a complete passenger, and as time goes on i struggle to see the value in that, even if it does feed into the overall themes of his story and his own emotional angst.
Tumblr media
because, look: xion was a passenger as well; she had no choice in her situation, only the illusion of one that riku offered her. and yet, she still was allowed a moment of agency. roxas tried to do the same after xion's death by going to kill the organization(which frankly, he could've killed every last one of them- get real), riku stops him and refuses to explain or reason with roxas to get him to consider another way. riku just proceeds to taunt him. whwhy i find it hilarious that riku took pity on xion because she reminded him of kairi, but the guy who's literally his best friend's nobody whom he is currently fighting to save-... he acts like a bitch to, and refuses to give him any of the same consideration that he gave to the girl. what the fuck is that
what is with the complete and utter disrespect of roxas in his own game- >>specifically<< by the people who should be his allies. remember that bit at the end of days where roxas is about to leave and confronts axel for answers, and practically pours his heart out begging axel to help him?? axel refuses to tell him who sora is and that he’s sora’s nobody, etc. ok.. maybe he’s afraid of getting shot by the organization because it’s classified information. no, fuck that. its a major part of axel’s character is that he puts his own desires and wants before his job or duty. and! he also cares a great deal about his friends, even above his own wellbeing. he helps xion escape the organization when he was on that mission with xigbar. he didn’t even have an excuse to protect himself when xigbar interrogated him for letting xion go- axel could’ve gotten shot then and there for helping the traitor. he straight up put his neck on the chopping block for xion’s sake.
Tumblr media
so then, why now with roxas, does he refuse to do anything at all to help him? he’s done shit before like lie to roxas in a vain attempt to make him happy- axel cares about him! he wants to help him, especially when hes sad- and in this final moment, roxas is in complete despair. axel could’ve very easily been like “well i cant tell you,, but maybe some other guy could… uh idk his name starts with an R”. god almighty it would’ve been so easy to just nudge roxas in a direction while still covering for himself if he was still worried about that. but no, completely out of character, axel just abandons roxas to possible execution(of which he would likely be the one to carry out) by the org for rebelling, without even giving roxas the slightest lifeline to find the answers that he deserves.
man i just lost the entire topic going on an whole ass side tangent…. what even was the topic to begin with idk im complaining about days. i'll proceed with a spicy hot take! get ready. when xion died, all memory and evidence of her existence shouldn't have been erased. yes. as depressing of an idea as it is- like, her friends aren't even allowed the luxury of cherishing her memory when she's gone, i think we all know why it was a bad move in the long run. xion getting wiped from existence was a poorly veiled excuse to avoid having to explain why nobody talks about her in other games- while also just straight up being able to get away without really mentioning 99% of what happens in 358/2 days to begin with. even as a kid i knew this was shit and i still think it's shit now, and the fact they had to pull a memory wipe trick like this is even more proof that the writers of kh are absolutely abysmal at tying their stories together or thinking ahead at all. or more like, they shot themselves in the foot daring to implement important plot details into spin-off titles in the first place. chain of memories started this trend, and even that game had to pull the memory wipe trick at the end of the game so as to not stunt players who didn't happen to own both a ps2 and a gba.
Tumblr media
its a really asinine trend that has indisputably ruined kh with each installment. like, you can't be serious. in order to understand the main villian's(xehanort) motivations, i have to play 2 games and a casino, to have a full understanding as to why this old fuck wants to blow everyone up. for the longest time, i didn't understand why xehanort was concocting this decade long masterplan to attain kingdom hearts, UNTIL i happened upon the kh wiki. this is so sad you cant make this shit up you can figure out within the space of kh1 why ansem wants kingdom hearts. he's a power hungry mad scientist that went batshit insane in pursuit of knowledge. a classic victor frankenstien-esque character archetype. its so easy! I understood that without issue even as a child. too bad they couldn't just do that again with the next major villian! tbf, even xemnas' goals were extremely simple-...... until they added in the bit where he was lying to the entire org about them not having hearts or the ability to feel and yadayada... what was he trying to accomplish with that stunt again? don't get me started how stupid xemnas lying is. you've gotta be shitting me. like, are you saying that intelligent scientists like zexion and vexen wouldn't figure out such an obvious lie? what about lexaeus? luxord? really?? these aren't stupid people. at least one of them would have figured it out. would've been a good opportunity to give marluxia a reason to have been trying to pull a coup(besides wanting power???) because he figured out xemnas was a manipulative fuck and marluxia decided to take initiative and overthrow him. i love marluxia, but damn, the entire time i was playing com i had no idea what the fuck his motivations were.. why does he want to take over the organization... was that ever mentioned? …huh
Tumblr media
but wait wait, i just went on another massive side tangent. i want to go back to talking about xion. i would've much preferred if we got to see moments of roxas and axel struggling to come to terms with losing one of their only friends. like, how would axel handle being completely powerless to save her, and frankly unable to even be there in her final moments? maybe he would've turned on the organization much sooner, because how could he ever continue working for the group that split him apart from the 2 people that really matter to him. that'd be interesting. roxas could eventually cool down, and simmer into a depression AND NOT GET THROWN INTO A SHITTY SIMULATION BECAUSE RIKU SHOULDVE BEEN NICER TO HIM. huh what- and maybe roxas might feel inclined to give up, but meeting with namine could be some reassurance to him because she tells him all that stuff about how he won't disappear and there's hope for nobodies like them!! honestly, just seeing the characters having to grapple with the pain of their past and actually talk about it instead of vaguely wincing about things they feel but can't remember would've been so much better. i get it, it's a mildly entertaining trope- characters suffering emotional wounds they don't remember receiving, or acting in strange ways in deference to old traditions they can no longer recall... yeah i get the appeal, but it doesn't make for a very strong story in the long run, especially with an event as major as xion's sacrifice. why can't characters be allowed to grow from their past and have character development. i like it when a character's history influences them in meaningful ways that isn't entirely superficial.
Tumblr media
heck man, idk. you get the point. days is full of amazing ideas and has a fantastic premise, but like all things in kh, it struggles to hold up as soon as you examine it with the barest amount of scrutiny. thanks for coming to my ted talk.
15 notes · View notes
byenycfm · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
Jeremiah Rose || 40 || #301 || Boyd Holbrook || Closed
Personality:
jeremiah’s approachability and mood depends on the day and the amount of bullshit he’s had to endure for that day. in general he’s a bit exhausted all the time from being constantly in motion getting things done. he’s blunt and to the point, not wanting his time to be wasted and he’s impatient in that same sense. despite what people take a surface level, he’s actually quite intelligent, and he doesn’t miss much of what’s going on around him. he isn’t the type to make an impulsive decision unless he has to, he likes to know exactly what outcomes are possible and what he’s going up against. that’s not to say he doesn’t have some reckless moments, but that’s much more in his past unless it means doing whatever it takes to protect those he cares about and is loyal to. when it comes to his work, he can be quite cold and unforgiving, ruthless. but he can have a good time, even laugh once and awhile, if he can find the time to do so– relaxation isn’t a luxury he feels like he’s afforded often.
Biography:
jeremiah was born to a mother who wasn’t ready to be a mom and dropped off with grandparents who were done having children. still, they took him in and then did the same with his brother who came along a few years later. to their credit, they made an attempt at raising the boys but by the time a third child came along, his little sister, they were far too along in years to be chasing young children. especially ones like jeremiah who were keen on getting into pockets of trouble whenever he saw an opening. their mother was hardly around and jer gave up on her long before charlie came around. being the oldest, however, jer didn’t hesitate to step up and take responsibility for his siblings and their grandparents when their health started to fail. his siblings were and are everything to him and he’d do anything to keep them safe. he couldn’t stop jp from experiencing the disappointment of a neglectful childhood or falling in with the wrong people the same way he’d done. even though he would do his best to keep him from getting into deep, a point of no return where he couldn’t protect him anymore. when it came to charlie both of them made a point to keep her far away from the evils of the world and out of trouble. they all relied on each other and did their part to keep the house running, take care of their grandparents, and survive. jer did his best to take on the bulk of it all, especially when their grandparents passed, but each of them did what they could to look out for each other.
in order to make ends meet, jeremiah started his hustling from a young age which only flourished as time went on. he started with stealing candy, snacks, and the like from the store and selling it to kids at school for a full profit. later this turned to substances, weapons, and services. he fell in with a local gang that he went on to become one of their leaders through an exchange of power and with him the group grew, both in size and income coming in. this meant after a lifetime of struggling to make ends meet, things were finally comfortable though it didn’t exactly make his life any easier. if he didn’t have to worry about how food was going to get on the table, clothes on backs, and bills paid– he could focus on keeping things steady on the business end of things.
until the world flipped upside down for everyone, of course. when the outbreak happened he was out taking care of some people who owed him money. his day was filled with few collections, a meeting with some large buyers, and checking in on members making sure they were getting their job done. but it became apparent those plans were going to be changed when people started attacking others, consuming them. jer feels on the lucky side of things that he was always strapped with weapons and well versed in the art form of violence ( loved and craved it, in fact ). he ended up fighting his way out of the chaos and getting back to the wexley as soon as he could to make sure his family was safe.
during a supply run, something to stock up before the worst of winter was supposed to hit the city, jeremiah was separated from each other when a hoard closed in on them. he hid from the swarm of chompers and waited it out, making his plan to get back to the wexley. when he was in the clear, he ventured out only to be met with an incoming snow storm and a group of raiders. in a split second decision, he chose to align with the raiders knowing they weren’t going to be doing much raiding until the snow melted and it was his best chance of surviving through whatever length of time it took for the snow to clear. he held no loyalty to them, though some he had more in common with than he’d like to admit, but because of them he stayed fed and warm until spring. once the snow was gone enough for him to escape, he would– in the meantime, he hoped his people were okay.
Pre Outbreak Occupation: drug dealer , thief , gang member / leader, henchman Previous Zombie Experience: from the start jer’s had to take out quite a few chompers and it doesn’t bother him. anytime he goes on runs or out for any reason he has to deal with them, it wasn’t the first time he’d killed something and it won’t be the last. Marital Status: Single Children: maisie o'halloran (daughter, unknown location)  Residence: Apt. 301 Years residing at The Wexley: Pre Outbreak 39 years Connections: Rose family - Siblings
2 notes · View notes
korgbelmont · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Part 2
The Ancient who made Callum a Vampire has entered the equation and forced the Vampire and Valkyries from their home. Thankfully, they have somewhere they can be safe... they hope.
Written in the Present tense
Part 1
Warnings: Violence
Word Count: 1018
Notes: Title made on cooltext.com
Tumblr media
Marianne leads the trio up the stairs, pointing to one door.
Marianne - Rose, you can have this room. There's a bathroom attached.
Rose - Thank you. Good night.
Callum - Night.
Sarah - Sleep tight.
Marianne - And there's a room just here for you two lovebirds to use.
Sarah - Thank you.
Marianne turns her gaze to Callum.
Marianne - And don't worry about the sun or anything like that whilst you're here. Just don't go outside during the day for obvious reasons.
Callum - Got it.
Marianne - We'll figure out what's going on after you've had a decent amount of sleep.
Sarah - Okay.
Marianne - Sleep well.
The Vampire leaves them to head to another part of the mansion while Callum and Sarah enter their room, finding it to be nearly the size of their flat.
Sarah - Being an immortal has it's perks.
They change into something more comfortable to sleep in before climbing into bed. Callum groans in relief from the comfort of the bed.
Callum - I think I want to steal this from Marianne when it's all over.
Sarah - Yeah. I think I'm with you there.
The two snuggle up and Sarah grabs a pillow to put over Callum's shoulder to rest her head on.
Sarah - Be honest. When that gang attacked...
Callum - I was scared. Seeing those faces again bursting through our door... it brought back too much pain.
Sarah - Yeah. Same.
They both hold each other a little tighter as sleep takes them, but fear remains.
Tumblr media
Elsewhere, the Ancient enters the local supernatural club. Eyes drawn to him as power radiates from him. He approaches the bar, and the bartender shakes ever so slightly.
Ancient - Whiskey. Top Shelf.
Bartender - S-Sure thing.
The bartender wastes no time in pouring the drink as the Ancient lays out a few notes. The bartender places in front of the Ancient, who gives a nod of approval.
Ancient - So tell me. Who would I speak to about collecting information on individuals if I were looking for them. Vampires in particular. And perhaps also Valkyries.
Bartender - I--
Voice - And what interest do you have in Valkyries, mister?
The Ancient looks over his shoulder to see a Valkyrie getting to her feet, hand hovering over one of her blades.
Ancient - Just one actually. Hrild.
The Valkyrie flies at the Ancient, her blades drawn.
Tumblr media
The following evening, the Marianne, Sarah, and Callum gather at a table where Marianne opens up an old leather bound book.
Callum - What's that?
Marianne - All the information I was able to dig up on Ancients. There's nothing talking about their origin. Like Valkyries, Witches, all of us, they've been a part of the world for as long as we can remember. But it states that they went into hiding about six hundred years ago. Since then, they've been believed dead. Or so we thought. Obviously you're proof of that being bullshit. So is Percy.
Callum - And I'm inclined to say that the Ancient we faced and Percy's old man are one in the same.
Sarah - He said he was testing you. Why?
Callum - I don't know.
Marianne - Anyone who wants something or someone they've created doesn't usually have good intentions.
Callum - Whatever it is he wants from me, he's not getting it.
Marianne - Sounds like you've made your mind up on what you want to do.
Callum - I want to end him.
Sarah - I'm with you there.
Marianne - Then we're in agreement.
Sarah - But easier said than done.
Marianne - There used to be more of his kind of Vampire. Which means there is a way.
Tumblr media
Up in her room, Rose stares up at the ceiling, having had hardly any sleep. She sits up when she hears a knock at her door.
Rose - Who is it?
Sarah - It's Sarah.
Rose - Come in.
Her fellow Valkyrie enters the room, closing the door behind her before walking over to Rose.
Sarah - Just wanted to check in on you. You look tired.
Rose - New place. Never sleep great at first. What did I miss?
Smiling, Sarah tucks some hair behind the young Valkyrie's ear.
Sarah - Doesn't matter right now. What does matter is that you rest up. You want a drink or anything to eat?
Rose - No thanks.
Sarah turns to lift her leg onto the bed so she can face Rose better.
Sarah - You know, despite the circumstances, I'm glad I can know you.
Rose - The feeling's mutual. You're kind of like the sister I wished I had growing up.
Sarah - Ditto. And I know things haven't been easy what with one thing after another it seems, but I promise things will get easier. Once we've dealt with Callum's maker, we can have try at as normal a life as possible.
Rose - You sound sure of that.
Sarah - We have our freedom, something I never expected. There's a whole new life waiting.
Rose looks in Sarah's eyes, seeing how much she believes her own words, and something about it reassures Rose.
Rose - ...I believe you.
Sarah wraps Rose in a soft hug.
Sarah - Try and get some sleep, okay.
Rose - I'll try.
Sarah - I'll be just across the hall if you need anything.
Rose - Thanks.
They part and Sarah leaves the room. Rose lies back down, pulling the covers up to her shoulders as she closes her eyes.
In their room, Sarah takes a sip of her water as she sits down on the bed. But she doesn't get the chance to get comfortable as Marianne enters the room.
Marianne - You might want to see this.
Sarah sets her glass down and follows Marianne outside. The Vampire points up and they look to see a Valkyrie descending.
Sarah - Who are you?
Georgina - My name's Georgina. I'm your replacement. But you might want to get your Vampire before I say anything...
2 notes · View notes
determinedwriter · 1 year ago
Text
Whumptober 2023: Day 30: Borrowed Clothing/Bridal Carry
Whumptober 2023: Day 30: Borrowed Clothing
(Continuation of yesterday’s part 2/2)
Tony
“I’m on my way. If anything changes, you call me. Understand?” I urge Peter over the phone.
“Yeah, of course.” He replies.
“If things take a turn and I’m not there, you swing out of there in all your spider glory and take her to the hospital, alright?” I continue. “I’m not losing her. Not tonight. Not ever.”
“You’ve got it, sir.” He says. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”
I pause before hanging up, not wanting leave things like this. “Kid?”
“Yeah?” He replies. “I'm still here.”
I gulp. “Don’t leave her side. P-Please.”
“I won’t, Mr. Stark. Not for a second.” Peter reassures me.
“Good.” I mumble. “If she wakes up, tell her I’m coming.”
“I will.” He says.
I finally hang up after that, speeding to the Parker residence in my suit as soon as possible. Peter called me on his phone before calling me on Ro’s, likely knowing I’d pick up the second time.
I would’ve answered his call if I had known it was serious. I’m kicking myself for wasting any time at all. Ro needs me.
Someone tried to seriously harm her tonight and I wasn’t there. I have to be there for her now. It’s important that I’m by her side.
Which is why I’ve practically begged Peter not to leave her. If I can’t be there immediately, someone has to. Someone. If not me, then Peter’s not a bad candidate. He cares a lot about her. Maybe even loves her.
I’ve always seen that in him. The way he looks at her. It’s pretty obvious he likes her. At least to me it is. I’d like to think I’ve got a keen eye for these things.
I arrive at the apartment in no time at all, rushing to the elevator and hurrying to his floor. I pound on the door, not caring about how late it is or how loud I am. Ro is the only thing on my mind.
May opens the door. “She’s in Peter’s room. Nothing’s changed since you called.”
I push past her with a small, muttered greeting and open Peter’s door without knocking. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, watching Ro as she lies there with his blanket over her.
“Mr. Stark.” Peter says. “I’m glad you’re here…”
I move towards Ro, a terrible fear enveloping me. She looks so fragile that I’m afraid to move too fast or breathe too hard, as if it’ll break her.
She’s not wearing her own clothes, an oversized shirt and sweatpants covering her. “You changed her clothes?”
“May did.” He replies. “Her old ones were…torn.”
“Torn?” I question.
He gulps. “Yeah. Those guys, they…they were so…eager to hurt her.”
My heart shatters. “Oh.”
“Ro…” I mumble. “Ro, it’s Dad. I’m here now.
I’m sorry if I took too long. I came as quickly as I could, baby. I promise.”
She doesn’t move, which scares me. “I’m bringing her to the compound. The medbay can help her.”
Peter nods. “Okay.”
I hoist her in my arms and fly right to the facility, calling in Dr. Cho to take a look at her. She’d better be alright. I can hardly hear her breathing. That alone is enough to cause me to panic.
When I get there, Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner are already waiting to help. Thank God. “She was drugged.” I explain. “Attempted rape. Spider kid was with her and he doesn’t know what the hell happened. All I know is he didn’t have anything to do with it. He beat the asses of the ones that did though.”
“As he should.” Dr. Cho comments.
Bruce takes Ro from my arms and places her on an exam bed, taking her vitals when suddenly her eyes open.
She looks very out of it, opening her mouth to say something when she starts to vomit, too weak to turn herself over to not choke.
The two doctors immediately turn her on her side and I grab her hand. “You’re alright. You’re okay. I don’t know how much you can hear me right now, but you’re safe now. It’s Dad. You’re safe and everything’s alright.”
Ro is soon passed out again, Bruce taking a blood sample to test for drugs. She’s definitely not sober, but I wouldn’t be able to say what she’s been given.
I’ve done a lot of partying in my day, but I don’t particularly recognize any of Ro’s symptoms.love you, kid. Keep breathing. That’s all you’ve gotta do. I’m not leaving you.”
He places an oxygen mask over her face. “There you go, kid. In and out.”
After enough time and close monitoring, Ro wakes up disoriented and afraid, gasping softly. “H-Hmm…?”
“You’re safe, you’re alright.” I reassure her quickly. “It’s me.”
Tears cascade down her cheeks in an instant and she starts to whimper. “D-D-Dad?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” I reply. “I’m here and you’re okay. I’ve got you.”
She squeezes my hand. “L-Love you.”
“Love you tons.” I tell her.
It’s a long road, but I’m going to be here for her.
I’ll never leave her.
2 notes · View notes
aurora--briar · 1 year ago
Text
Memories Of True Love {Princess House + Hatter}
In which everything comes together.
Feat: @truitt-story @cinderellaashbourne @davidhatter
Date: Spring 2023
Previous Reading:
Clever Whispers  To Save A Princess You’ll Have To Make A Deal
HATTER: 
The fae had gotten back to him with their part of the bargain. A crystal, which Hatter had wrapped up in a few towels and placed in his bag alongside reagents and other things he thought may be useful for the task at hand. It bumped against his hip with every step he took along Enchantra’s floor. 
With him were Aurora’s housemates that he had gone to gather as soon as the crystal was in his possession. As he had been persistently worried about, he didn’t know how much time Aurora had, if any, and didn’t want to waste any more of it. The trek back to where Aurora was sleeping felt far longer this go around than it had any other time. Maybe because the anticipation of what could or could not happen that evening made it seem farther, like the forest was trying to give him time to get his thoughts together before having to do what needed to be done. 
Eventually, though, they did arrive where the plants were more plush and vibrant, vines like a curtain on a bedroom tucked away out here. He pulled his bag from around his body, letting it down beside where Aurora was still sleeping, and rummaged through it to pull the bundle with the crystal and his wand. Which didn’t look like much of a wand so much as it did an old baseball cap. It was something he rarely even had to use these days, but since he was going to be collecting reagents that he didn’t normally, it would be necessary. He untangled the crystal from the towels, holding it in one hand with the wand in the other. 
“Alright,” he said, turning around to Truitt and Ashbourne. “In order for this to get a proper charge on it, and fine tune it to Aurora’s person, I’m going to need something from you. Memories of her. The fonder the better.” 
TIANA
Tiana had a sense of anxious deja-vu as they walked through the forest. She and Ella had already tried this before, to no avail. But this time was going to be different. It would have to be different, because they were running out of options. At least they had Hatter now. Tiana just tried not to think too much about the last time she had tried to do a spell with him.
She opened her mouth to protest that Hatter hadn’t prepared them or told them to bring anything, but then he finished his sentence. Memories. Yes, she had plenty of those. And she hardly needed any preparation to recall them. She thought about Aurora all the time, after all. She missed her all the time.
“Any kind of good memory? Oh, uh, okay… I don’t even know where I’d start…” Tiana said, pausing to think. She glanced at Ella, a small smile creeping across her face. “Do you remember that time we all went to prom together? The theme was heaven and hell, and we all went as Willa’s Angels?” 
ELLA It was all Ella could do to steady her breathing and keep her composure as they went deeper into Enchantra. The forest would know she was here, of course. It would know that all three of them were there, that they were heading towards Aurora and the place where she rested, but she knew they wouldn’t be disturbed. Whatever it was Hatter needed to do, they would do it in peace; Ella had asked the forest to keep her friend safe, and it would do so, diverting people away from them, letting them work in peace. Or so she hoped, anyhow.
The request sent her a bit off kilter. Where did she even start? She had more fond memories of Aurora than she could count. Some were small, cups of tea on cold mornings, movie nights all tucked under one night, small gifts exchanged after a trip to the farmers market. Others were far bigger – helping her rescue Willa in a night of horror, holding her hand as she talked about the Prince. There were far too many fond memories of Aurora, so many that Ella suddenly felt overwhelmed by missing her, probably the opposite of what Hatter needed from her.
But she saw Tiana smile, and slowly, she smiled too, nodding. She couldn’t remember whose idea it had been now, the matching white outfits and the corny photos posed as Charlie’s Angels, but it had been fun. “We looked like an early noughties girl band,” She said with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever danced as much as I did then.”
HATTER: He gave a nod of confirmation and encouragement at Truitt’s questioning. As he was no expert when it came to this sort of reagent he figured it best to go with the ones that would be fueled by the emotions that packed the hardest punch, making it somewhat easier for him to recognize them and be able to pull them free into something tangible. It also seemed like a miserable affair to ask them to remember times that made them sad or upset, as well as trying to wake Aurora up with those emotions. To fuel it with care and friendship and smiles and warmth seemed like a far better way to bring someone back from a long sleep. 
As they talked between one another, Hatter waited, having to focus in order to even begin to see any sort of glimpse of the memory they were describing. He had to place the crystal on the ground to free both hands and arms. He stepped closer with fingers holding the bill of the cap so it was upside down and the crown fell open like a bowl.
“Pardon,” he said softly as he reached forward with it. The bill swept close to Truitt’s forehead first, almost but not quite touching. His hand was there, too, trying hard to pull at something smooth. It took him a moment, and a frustrated puff of air from his nose, before he actually had a hold of it. Then he turned to Ashbourne and did this same thing. He dropped them into the hat, two marble like shapes rolling around in their fabric home. They gleamed like Christmas lights, bright and twinkling on their own, as if they held a whole universe inside them. In a way they did. A little infinity of a moment, fogged by memory but cleared by the emotion it held. 
“Good,” Hatter said as he inspected them, a slight smile at the edges of his features before he looked up. “Again.” 
TIANA
Tiana watched anxiously as Hatter did the spell. She didn’t know enough about magic to tell whether it was going well or not, but Hatter briefly looked frustrated, which scared her— but then he smiled and said otherwise. Okay, she thought as he looked at her. Just keep going.
It was like the world’s most terrifying oral presentation. The stakes had never been higher. But it was for that reason that Tiana couldn’t afford to lose her nerve now.
“Uh, okay, yeah,” she said, glancing at Ella again. Her housemate’s presence steadied her. Ella had that effect on people. “Well, er, this is sort of a silly one, but once she pretended to be my girlfriend around the holidays so my mum’s friends would stop trying to set me up. I don’t think we were all that convincing, but that’s Aurora for you. She’s always going to help you out.”
Tiana blinked back tears. These were supposed to be happy memories. And they were. But recalling them reminded her how much she missed Aurora— and how afraid she was of the possibility that she could be gone forever. 
ELLA She did her best not to look at Hatter whilst he was working, focusing instead on the memory, the laughter, the happiness, how wonderful that night had been. She didn’t want to ruin any reagents by letting herself get distracted.
She did let herself reach across the space between herself and Tiana for a moment, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. She knew how hard it was. Just because the memories were good ones didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, didn’t exacerbate the way they missed her. It felt like so long now since they had seen Aurora. Ella missed late nights in the living room with a bottle of wine, or picnics in the back garden when the sun finally started shining in the springtime, but she didn’t want to get bogged down in the sadness that tinged the edge of all those memories.
“She’s always happy to help,” Ella agreed, smiling gently. “We used to spend hours out in the garden, and she never did mind any of the questions I asked, even though they were probably so stupid. And she used to make me things, little charms to keep things growing or keep the pests away, without me even asking.”
HATTER: Hatter found himself huffing at Truitt’s story, glancing over to where the sleeping form of the friend in question was, as if she could somehow confirm what was being said. Only, as Truitt continued to speak, the silliness of it was stripped away and the heart of it remained. He returned back to his task, gathering that memory to join the others inside the hat. The glow twinkled, glancing over the trio as they stood there, as if he was holding a jar of fireflies they had all taken to gathering. 
He managed to get Ashbourne’s, too, though it did try to slip past his fingers with its glossy finish. It landed among the others. The grouping seemed like it may be enough to fill the crystal now, and he could tell by having held them and looking at them that they held more power than most would probably imagine. He knew it would be enough. 
But just in case. 
“That she did,” he said with a small smile, looking down at the reagents as he slowly began to make his way toward where Aurora still lay. “She’d brought me cookies, Christmas before last. I’m sure she did it for a lot of people, but it was different. No one tends to bring me food. Can’t say I blame them, considering, but she did. My favorite, too, though she didn’t know it at the time.” 
It had been a simple gesture. As it had been when she’d sat down to have some with him. Only to someone like him, who was quite simple and who valued food so highly, it had been much more. 
He reached up with the cap, letting the bill scoop at his temple and letting the reagent land among the others. 
Alright. No need to get weepy. If this worked then there would be plenty more cookies to share, help to be given, and charms to be made. 
With a long breath he got down on his knees, setting the hat and crystal down in favor of searching his bag, he pulled a pair of trowels, and turned at the waist to offer them to Truitt and Ashbourne. 
“Mind digging a bit? Deep enough for that thing to fit-” he nodded toward the crystal, “- just above her head?” 
TIANA
As Hatter gave his own memories, Tiana was struck, not for the first time, by the realization that Hatter had been close with Aurora as well, and that meant he he was deeply invested in this whole thing as well. He didn’t want to fail her either, and it wasn’t just a favor Hatter was doing to Aurora— he knew the stakes, and here he was still.
It wasn’t all that surprising, of course. Aurora was important to many people. Because she was just that kind of person. Like she had said, and like Hatter and Ella had said.
That made Tiana feel just slightly reassured as she took a trowel and knelt down to start digging. All of this was so foreign. Tiana felt like she shouldn’t be doing it, all this sorcery stuff. But Aurora needed her. So she dug hesitantly, as though she might mess it up at any moment.
“Am I, uh, doing this right?” she said, glancing at Hatter.
ELLA For all the time she had spent in Enchantra, Ella wasn’t sure she had ever disturbed the soil before. She had held back tree branches, moved aside shrubs, picked flowers to take home and put in the pot on the windowsill, but this was the first time she had dug into the earth like this, carving it out. She eyed the crystal for a moment, wondering what it would do, and then she nodded, taking the trowel and digging into the earth besides Tiana. Somehow, she thought the forest wouldn’t mind. 
It reminded her of Aurora. Those spring mornings spent in the garden, the two of them chatting and gossiping as they tended their beds. She went about this the same way she had gone about that, digging with purpose, not thinking too hard about the action except to compare the hole they were making to the size of the crystal that lay on the ground. 
She paused when Tiana looked to Hatter, turning her gaze to him as well. She had to trust that if they had been making a mess of things, he would’ve told them. “That should be big enough, shouldn’t it?”
HATTER: Meanwhile, Hatter was working on transferring the reagents to the crystal itself. It was not as easy as filling a jar with sweets since there wasn’t exactly a lid on the rock. One by one he had to carefully transfer a memory from the cap to the crystal. Which was hard since these were so close to the subject of the memories and he could feel them gravitating toward her. They were magnetized to her person, of course. They wouldn’t go flying, but they knew. They were made of her, essentially, of the three of them’s perception of her. Recognizable of the person she had been to them. Their memories had missed her and they were asking about her, even now. 
“You’re doing just fine,” he reassured Truitt before he even looked up to confirm for himself. Not that he had any doubt that she was. She was a smart kid, if a bit by the book. He had no worries about her or Ashbourne. 
What he worried about was the memories cracking open on the crystal, he worried about the slipping free of his fingers and getting lost among the vast foliage that surrounded them thanks to whatever magic had a hold of the sleeping girl that fueled them to grow. He worried that they wouldn’t be enough. He worried that he had put too much trust in a being that warranted none, and yet he had no reason to not trust them either. Or the stranger who had come to show him where Aurora was in the first place. He worried about what would happen should she wake up, if she would be the same girl who had laid down to sleep here in the forest or if it would be a stranger in her body, whether of the same mind with no memories or someone else’s mind occupying the space. So many possibilities lay at the end of this decision he had made and forced upon the two girls who sat mere meters away, digging, as he had asked them to. Just like he had asked them to hope. 
Most of all, Hatter worried that she would not wake up and that whatever magic he had wouldn’t be enough. 
As each memory was fit into the crystal it began to glow like they had. Brighter and brighter it shown, the memories bringing the seemingly still object to life. He kept the last memory clasped tightly in his palm and then looked up at Ashbourne’s voice. 
“Yes,” he said, shifting himself to sit beside the dug up ground. “Thank you. Now, I’d take a few steps back. But, um, it’d be best if you were in her line of sight when she wakes. I’m sure it would be nice to find familiar faces waiting for her.” 
He nodded his head for them to get a move on. When he was sure they were a safe distance he stuck the crystal into the ground in the place they had made for it. Light beamed up from within, dancing across the dark, dirt colored walls of the room where it sat. Already roots from the vines were crawling across the new real estate, wanting to fill in the gap, to greet this seemingly new addition to their garden. So, there was no time to lose. 
Like a seed being planted, Hatter dropped the last memory into the crystal alongside whatever raw magic he could conjure into the transfer. Its light burned brighter, almost blinding, and it began to shake. He quickly shoveled the dirt on top of it, burying it beneath the Earth, the element of the witch that lay just above. 
AURORA: 
The forest was quick to react to the new magical artifact buried within her soil. The memories that charged it glowing beneath the surface, The roots searching for the new source of magic, the veins loosening on Aurora as they did.
She only had a fragment of her magic left compared to where she started last summer. The crystal was new and fresh and bursting with magic.
But the crystal was not a human that circulated her magic at low levels. The crystal fed them and fed them well as it cracked giving all it’s energy to the plants around it. The plant growing thicker, and taller, blooms surrounding Aurora even as it loosened its grip it looked like it was swallowing her whole.
Until it wasn’t.
A small boom, as the crystal shattered and cracked. Most pieced left underground and a few escaping the soil, Aurora’s eyes shot open, flickering from her normal hazel to a hint of red before the inner circle of red remained.
With a gasp, Aurora scrambled for anything to hold onto, for some hint of her magic in the ground to guide her. Where she was, what she should remember, what she should do.
With laboured breaths, Aurora tried to force herself to sit up as she looked around, all the veins and plants now lay unmoving on the forest floor, alive but acting like normal plants and her friends looking at her.
“Hi?” Aurora murmured her voice raspy from being unused.
TIANA
Something was happening. Something was changing. Either it was working, or it wasn’t, and Tiana couldn’t tell because she knew maddeningly little about magic. She watched anxiously, her jaw clenched in fear.
And then Aurora’s eyes opened, and she spoke. And Tiana burst into tears. 
“Rora!” she exclaimed through sniffles. “Oh my god, it’s you! You’re alive!” And then, whether or not it was wise, and maybe just to be sure she was really there and it wasn’t some trick of the light, but mostly because she hadn’t been able to do it in nine months, Tiana sprung forward and hugged Aurora tightly, shaking with sobs.
ELLA Ella’s eyes were wide and wet as she watched and waited, holding her breath as she hoped for some kind of sign that something was happening. The small boom caught her by surprise, the few shards of crystal that leapt into the air making her jump. She looked back to Aurora, hoping that that was a good sign, that it was working how it was supposed to, when all of a sudden, Aurora sat up.
Ella felt her heart clench, the tears slipping down her chest as she watched Aurora slowly sit up, finding them standing there and focusing on them, opening her mouth to speak. She was just a few steps behind Tiana, stumbling forward over the vines so that she could wrap one arm around Aurora as well, the other around Tiana, holding the both of them tightly.
“It worked,” She said weakly, redundantly– but she didn’t know what else to say. Nothing seemed enough to properly explain how she was feeling. “It actually worked, you’re here.”
HATTER: Hatter, who was sat behind Aurora, stayed put. He watched the faces of Truitt and Ashbourne, trusting their relief and happiness before he let himself feel it, too. All the tension that had been turning him into a finely tuned upper octave piano string left on a silent exhale. He was quick to turn away from the scene to hide the sting he could feel behind his eyes that the sudden emotions had produced. Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like anyone was paying him any mind, but it was his nature and a habit yet to be broken. 
He didn’t wish to interrupt, as much as he too wanted to look at her and see that it was in fact Aurora that was looking back. Not to mention ask her what the hell had happened to put her in a magic coma and if anyone had done it to her and- well. It could wait. Now that she was awake there would be plenty of time to do…anything.  
He sniffed, composing himself to get back to his feet, back and knees twinging with the movements. He felt tired, having taken so much magic out of himself. Never had to do that before. It was almost a good tired, knowing that he could still do something that extensive and that it had been enough when it counted most.  
He crossed the short distance back to his bag, leaning down to pick it up, and from one of the other pockets, one that had been enchanted to be able to carry more than it seemed and to be insulated, he pulled out a metal water bottle and sandwich that was wrapped in a tea towel. Being who he was, he'd been wondering if Aurora would be hungry when she woke up while waiting for the fae to get back to him. So he’d packed lunch. Just in case. He set it down close to where the three girls sat and then stood back again, going about retrieving his other things, like his wand and the trowels. 
AURORA: 
Aurora didn’t know what was happening. Here last memory was sinking her fingers into the earth as she sought out the curse that had plagued the town. The earth felt different now, the forest too. Everything in different stages of growth from when she fell asleep.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t hold her friends back when they rushed her. It was a loose hug on her part. All her muscles stiff and weak. 
Looking up at Hatter as he fussed about as well just added to her confusion. Why were the three of them together.
“I don’t understand?”
TIANA
To be completely honest, Tiana didn’t entirely understand either. She didn’t understand why that had worked, or what that crystal was made of, or what happened now. But she didn’t really need to. All she knew was that Aurora was awake, was alive, and that was what mattered.
“Hatter did something magic– I don’t really get it either, but there was this crystal, and we had to say memories, and… yeah, I don’t really know, but… you’re here! You’re okay!” Tiana sniffled, wiping at her eyes and glancing back at Hatter before turning to Aurora again. “You’re okay, right? Are you cold? Or hungry? Girl, I am gonna make you the biggest thing of gumbo…”
ELLA Ella laughed wetly, pulling back just enough to be able to wipe the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She didn’t understand it herself, but she decided that she didn’t need to. Like Tiana said, she was back. She was okay. But she probably was cold and hungry and they really shouldn’t linger in the forest, not when Aurora needed a good meal and a warm bath and to be at home, away from the forest that had held her for so long.
“Why don’t we get you home?” Ella said softly, looking at Tiana and then back at Aurora. All she wanted now, so desperately, was to go back to their house that had been missing something for months. To put in the piece of the puzzle that had been missing. But she didn’t understand the magic that had gone on and so she looked at Hatter, the hope clear in her eyes. “We can take her home, can’t we?”
HATTER: 
“Of course,” he said, having looked over to meet Ms. Ashbourne’s gaze. He gave the trio a small, warm smile. “She’s already stayed out here long enough, I think getting her to a proper bed is well deserved.” 
His thinking was much the same as theirs, except he knew the magic that had been at play. At least, what it had taken to have woken her up. Hatter didn’t want them to linger longer than they needed, fearful that something with the fae’s magic would somehow turn out to be a sham and the vines would seek her out again. There was no reason to doubt them, but he couldn’t help it, his last deal having fallen through as hard as it had. A tea shoppe could be lost, Aurora could not. 
Hatter avoided Aurora’s eye for a moment longer, glancing between her friends, until he worked up the nerve to finally look at her so he could ask, “Think you’re up for a walk?”
AURORA:
Memories? Magic? Did her spell go wrong? Had she been able to help the town being cursed to lose their magic? To lose the very thing that made it special.
Aurora looked at Hatter as if he would have the answers. He was the other sorcerer here so many he would. She wanted to ask so many questions but Ella and Tiana’s worries were enough to cause her to pause. To worry about it later.
“Yeah?” Aurora offered moving one hand from the girls to push herself up. Her body was weak, unused to movement and she quickly had to hold onto the girls. “Maybe not.”
TIANA
When Aurora almost fell, a jolt of fear struck Tiana. Had they waited too long? Had Aurora’s health been permanently affected by this? They should have acted sooner, maybe, but Tiana had been so afraid…
But what was important was that Aurora was alive. Anything else, they could handle. They would find a way.
“Uh, I could call an Uber?” Tiana suggested. Or she could offer to run and get her car, but she didn’t want to leave Aurora. “Maybe if we can just get to the edge of the forest? Just hold onto us, Rora, we’ll get you there.” 
ELLA Ella felt the stab of panic as well when Aurora stumbled, but she told herself it was okay — Aurora had been sleeping for a while, now. Of course she would be stiff, her muscles not used to moving as they once had been. 
“We’ve got you,” Ella agreed with Tiana, looping an arm around Aurora so that she could keep a good good on her. 
HATTER: Hatter caught the look but it seemed Aurora was on the same page; there would be time later for explanations. She had questions for him and he had questions for her. She held the beginning of this story while he had the end. But they could go over it later, right now the priority would be making sure she could begin a new one. Starting with getting home. 
He figured her weakened state would be the case, and yet had not been optimistic enough to bring anything to help. Although he doubted she would take kindly to sitting in a wagon or that the ride would be very comfortable through the brush and bumpy forest floor. There was little he could do to help unless she wanted a piggy back ride, but her friends seemed to have it handled. They would look after her. They had done so all this time before.
“Take your time,” he offered since, hopefully, there was plenty of it to go around. 
AURORA:
Aurora leaned on the girls and took a deep breath, she would get home, she would eat some food because damn was she hungry now that she thought about it. 
But that wasn’t step one.
Aurora knew this time, this time she had her future ahead of her.
And with these three by her side, it was looking pretty darn bright.
2 notes · View notes