#i hope i can write again soon

[sorrowfulsidekick]

joked Chronos put's Kit's ears up when he plays outside or else they'll be all up in the dirt or sand anytime he knelt down lmao

[sonnenreich]

⠀      ⠀            ⠀    ❝ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖘 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗 

⠀      ⠀⠀      ⠀    ⠀      ⠀    ⠀⠀      ⠀         𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘. 

independent  and  original  british  witch  following  the  name  of  𝐙𝐄𝐄𝐕  𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄  𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄,  ready  to  fulfill  your  darkest  wishes  or  just  serve  you  the  best  tea  blend  you  ever  tasted  ⸻  based  on  neo-pagan  beliefs  and  modern  witchcraft  aesthetic,  selective  and  mutuals  only,  activity  varies,  21+  p&mdni  (  conjured  by  cherry,  she / her  ☼ )

[robiinurheart33]

Haha wouldn’t it be so weird if when soap was taken and brainwashed he was constantly being compared to this soldier named “ghost” haha

Anyways explicit descriptions of psychological torture and violent intrusive thoughts under the cut

He would be beaten and berated constantly. why wasn’t he stronger than ghost, why wasn’t he faster, more skilled, better, stealthier, healthier.

Ghost could’ve done better in worse conditions.

Ghost has done better in worse conditions.

Why was soap not better even after all this?

It drove him up the wall, the way he would wonder who he was, seething and bleeding by the lip. After all that he’s gone though, all that he’s endured, everything.

Why wasn’t be better? Why can he never, ever be better?

They drove his sanity to the ground, spat and kicked at it until there was nothing but a shell of who he once was, and rebuilt it to fit their ideals. Soap couldn’t remember who he was before this, before the experiments. He couldn’t think, do, say anything without being ordered to do so by someone else.

Some days, soap would pull on the thin stripe down his scalp, eager to find some semblance of control over himself, even if it were pain. He would always get punished.

“It was the only thing he can and will recognise him by.”

“Ghost likes that on you.”

It made him hate the Mohawk even more.

He hates Ghost. He was sick of it. He was done waiting. He was done being compared to. He was done with being second to him. He wanted to pull him apart limb from limb, feel the hot blood spill over his teeth and he rips his throat apart, hear the sickening crunch of his neck being twisted, feel the smooth muscle of his skin ripple and tremble in fear of the one that he was supposedly supposed to be stronger than. Soap will never, ever get anything else in his life but the pure, white-hot rage of revenge. He maybe thinks this had lingered on since he was younger, before everything. It felt like an old friend, more so than his other emotions.

His first mission.

He will be better. He will be better. He will be the best. He will be good. This might be his only shot. This is. He will be the best. He will succeed. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail. He will not fail.

He runs into ghost.

At first, he didn’t know who he was. Soap was in a room with a few others, guns up and masks drawn, ready to shoot anyone who tries to come into the room. They had been infiltrated, and soap wasn’t told more than that. He didn’t really need to know more. Shoot the hostiles, keep people safe. Suddenly, bullets start to rain from outside the door, and soon enough, more and more bodies start hitting the floor. Soap does not panic. He hides behind a bookshelf, waiting.

A big ass motherfucker in a skull mask walks into the room and it looks like the shadows are warping to his presence. Soap does not panic. He reaches for the knife strapped to his thigh, flicking it up and holding it ready. He waits patiently until he stalks near the bookshelf, tightening his grip on the knife. They make eye contact, and through the skull mask stained with blood, he can see jet black eyes staring at him in shock. Death incarnate. Soap does not panic.

“Joh-”

Soap quickly slips out of his hiding spot, wrapping a forearm over his neck and attempting to jab the knife right into his socket. He feels a hand grip tightly onto his forearm, and he goes weightless. All the air escapes his lungs as his back slams against the floor, his head spinning. He screams at himself to get up, fight, be better, before he hears the familiar crackle of a radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

Ghost.

This is Ghost.

Ghost just fucking flipped him.

Soap does not panic. He does not panic but he feels a chill go down his spine as he sees red, scrambling back up onto his feet. The adrenaline starts to kick in now, and he lunges at him, ripping the radio off his vest and slamming it on the floor. He’s not completely sure why he did that, but in all fairness soap feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind, if his captors haven’t done so already. He punches Ghost, wincing slightly as his knuckle hit the cheekbone corner of his stupid skull mask. Soap starts to reach for his gun before Ghost punches back, hitting the mask clean off his face, pushing his back to the floor, one hand on his wrists. Soap starts to get really agitated now. After everything that he’s gone through, he’s still not good enough to beat ghost. He still hasn’t improved. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He makes eye contact with Ghost and is slightly taken aback when he is reflected with an equally crazed stare.

“Johnny.”

What the fuck?

Soap doesn’t say anything. Ghost’s eyes are brown, not black. Why hasn’t be killed him yet? Why isn’t Soap struggling? Ghost has blonde eyelashes.

“Where have you been?” To soap’s absolute horror, those brown eyes start to become glossy. He flinches back as if he’s been hit, and grits his teeth. No shit, he’s been here the whole time, where else is he supposed to be?

Soap surges forward and headbutts him in hopes of him letting go. He doesn’t, and it makes soap all the more dizzier, more frustrated. Why isn’t he fucking dead already? He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get his mind right.

“Johnny. Johnny.” Can he just shut the fuck up? It’s getting increasingly hard to concentrate for some reason. Shit. He feels overly exposed without the mask, feeling his body temperature rising steadily.

“Stop calling me that!” he growls out, twisting out of his grip and punching his across the face. The twisted skull mask looks almost comical out of place, but he can still see those eyes. Ghost’s hand comes to cup his cheek, and soap flinches back. His eyes look like Soap just mauled his puppy right in front of him. It makes him freeze in place, head awkwardly hovering between the floor and Ghost.

Images of blood spilling and needles, dirt and coffins fill his head, the sound of a neck snapping, gagging, screams and whimpers. Hands on him, eyes on him, never letting go. Stay. Soap snaps back into place, grabbing the mask and twisting it up, covering Ghost’s eyes. He quickly gets his other hand free and pushes ghost off him, sprinting out of the room.

“Wait-!” Is all he hears before flying down the corridor, back to safety, back to where it’s familiar, where he always is, where he always will be.

Loyalty has always been Soap’s best trait.

[javierduffy]

“uh … it’s a bit girly … no?” javier examines himself in the reflection of his knife’s blade, looking this-a way and that, the dark blue of a large silken bow now peeking sheepishly around his neck as it sits gently in his hair. next to him, kieran clams up a smidge, hands still held close to his chest nearby his completed ribbon project on javier’s head. he finds it in himself to wring his hands a time or two rather than immediately undo his work as javier seems to continue to formulate his final opinion. “you … think so? look at me?” kieran asks, politely as a mouse. javier easily complies, turns at his hips and looks behind, up at kieran where he sits on the stump above him.

kieran, as he peers over, can’t help the meadow of flush that blooms over his neck, then his ears, then his nose and his cheeks. he can tell javier is deep in thought by the look on his face, mouth twisted just a might sideways, cocking his mustache awry, and the deep wrinkle sat between his brows. the ribbon he used matches javier’s vest perfectly, and the shine of the silk warms bright in the sun, just like every piece of jewelry and metal javier has adorned himself with. with this ribbon, javier’s hair sits lower on his head, ponytail draped down his nape and more hair framing his face in his bangs. kieran resists an urge to tuck one side back behind his ear.

kieran thinks that he looks like a painting, a muse, a love letter so heartbreakingly full of adoration that the only language it could be written in is bright swipes of pigment on a canvas. as he makes eye contact with the silk squinting around the red of a necktie, he thinks that javier may be right, if ‘girly’ could sum up ’poetry written in effeminate reverence’.

kieran always did think women made better art, wrote better books- found a better way to love. softer. warmer. prettier. like javier.

the world sounds like it’s underwater.

“i think … it’s very pretty. it suits you real well.”

earnest to a fault, the look in kieran’s eye dances gingerly with javier’s internal voice. it dips and sways him, and javier, despite his instinct, finds himself charmed by its rhythm.

“-b-but! i could take it out! if you don’t-“ javier looks down at himself in his knife again, the sunlight filtered through the leaves glinting a yellow green around his dark features, and kieran hands him patience on a silver platter. a rich blue makes friends with bright green quite easy, javier thinks. this is how he must look through kieran’s mossy lens.

“pretty … yes. you know, i think you may be right. i’ll keep it. gracias.”

[not-poignant]

Daily excerpt from chapter 108 of Underline the Black:

‘You don’t hate it?’ Efnisien said, his voice small. ‘Of course not. Of course I don’t hate it. How could I hate that?’ ‘You’re not- You don’t like omegas.’ ‘I don’t like that I brainwash most omegas,’ Gary said, and sighed. ‘I have a powerful presence in that regard. Not all peak alphas are the same. Even Temsen doesn’t have the same impact on omegas that I do. I can’t suppress it or stop it, and I have very little control over it. It’s hard to be attracted to people who can never truly be themselves around you. Who are forced to always tell the truth in answer to any question I ask, with or without persuasion. Who have to take medications to stand up to me, like Cella did.’ Efnisien watched him like he was hungry to hear everything Gary had to say about anything. ‘I like you,’ Gary said finally. ‘Whether that’s as an omega, or an alpha, or both.’

[nunyverse-scribe]

Winter/Christmas Writing Prompts

🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄

In class, Person A is assigned Person B for Secret Santa, but they don’t really know B like that. So they try to get to know B while not making it too obvious that they’re B’s secret Santa, & in the process they end up developing a strong bond (platonic or romantic).

Person A is a naturally cold person while Person B is a more naturally warmer person so as the colder months come near, B will always warm A’s hands in their own.

More goofy dynamic based off the previous, Person A tends to attack Person B with their cold hands, going for B’s neck cus that’s a body part that emits a lotta heat. B tends to be startled and scream every time.

Person A has a passion for knitting/sewing/crocheting/etc. making sure to make new sweaters and jackets and socks for their loved ones. (Bonus Points if A decides to make matching sweaters for their friend group).

Sibling characters or any family characters upholding family winter traditions after their parents/caretakers have died as a means of letting their spirit live on.

Opposite of that, a group of friends or maybe the youngest generation in an family developing new traditions as a means to be representative of breaking the cycle of abuse that the adult figures in their lives provided them.

Characters that don’t celebrate Christmas or any other winter holiday kind of just banding together to have wintery fun outside of a cultural or religious holiday context, and treating it as a normal time of the year.

Person A being a parent from a middle class or lower class income but always sure to drive past the rich neighborhoods with dazzling lights so that their kid can look at it in awe and point out all the pretty houses with glee.

Characters turning off all the lights and lighting up candles to huddle around in a circle and tell/make up winter-themed scary stories.

Person A and Person B watching the Holiday special contests of a cooking show (I like to imagine this as a parent and kid mainly cus I remember my mom watching those holiday specials all the time)

❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️🎄❄️

[renslo161605]

ISAAC MORGAN

In rdr2 style

I did this before and it looked poopi so hopefully this one is better. I was struggling with the quote but i feel like that one's short snd sweet snd tells you enough about him. He's a sad little emo teenager maybe ill make another one of his adult version. But yeah i tried hope you like :))

I have a comic abt this on my blog hehe if he lives n all

[sliceofhotsoda]

“Even if we never become pro volleyball players, I think we’ll find what we’re looking for.”

Shoyou leaned sideways into Tobio’s back, laying his head down on his shoulder. He wished he could see his face.

“What’s the point in doing all this if we can’t play volleyball in the end?”

Tobio’s voice seemed to rattle inside of Shoyou. Good question, he thought feebly.

“There’s a point,” Shoyou insisted, firm. But in his head, he said to him, there’s a good chance you’d be all alone in that house right now if we’d never met.

No way would Shoyou let that happen.

They stared at their feet in a shared sad silence. Kageyama glanced down at him at the same time that Shoyou risked a look at Kageyama, then both gazes flitted away.

“There’s a point,” Shoyou repeated. Heaviness sunk inside his gut, profound. “Maybe volleyball isn’t the point at all. Would there even have been a reason to keep playing if we didn’t have the team we have now? I mean, if you were on Seijoh instead of Karasuno and we never learned our special quick, or if you were never there to push me further, maybe volleyball wouldn’t be worth all our attention anymore.”

Shoyou swallowed hard, awaiting Kageyama’s response. He wasn’t even sure why this felt so important, but he had a feeling it had something to do with how much Kageyama meant to him.

Kageyama’s brows furrowed. He seemed deep in thought, his eyes growing wide as if he’d remembered something very necessary.

“Without you, I might have given up volleyball,” Kageyama said, hushed.

[deoidesign]

Allowing myself to work on this comic. A LITTLE. Please....... I'm making comics all day every day please let me chase my bliss a little........... With a different comic...........

[coollyinterferes]

The unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching begins to fill the air. Whoever is coming seems to have brought some company along…

They are getting closer… and closer… and closer…

…and closer…

……until..................

"Goooooood evenin'!!" Comes the loud greeting from a certain blond man. A big smile on his face and all.

"We beg your pardon for our prolonged absence. It was completely beyond our control..." Then adds the gentleman standing by his side, apologizing on behalf of both, offering a genuine smile along with the apology.

"...BUT! We're back!" And hopefully for good this time…

[iknowshocker]

happy new year - who ordered gemini twin angst? 'cause chapter 25 of Hits Different is here to deliver <3

As far as Jo’s concerned, this is the third time she's watched her twin die.

When they were fourteen, she'd seen the light leave his eyes after a particularly nasty training session with Joshua, and she'd known in her gut that something was changing inside him.

At twenty-two, she'd been forced to witness him unravel entirely, nearly taking everyone else down with him.

Now, her gaze moves slowly over the desiccated veins in his neck, tracing the creeping path of death across his grayed out skin, hardly able to draw in a proper breath.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56457517/chapters/158547550

[ardentpoop]

if there’s one thing I’ll do in a supernatural fic it’s make dean jerk off

[javierduffy]

I have been having... a very bad day. Any spare fluffy headcanons for the boys? (and maybe some nsfw ones if you're up to it-)

ohh no my dear helena !!! its unfortunate that you’re having a rough day today :( remember that everything is temporary and that this day, like every other hard day before (and all following after), will pass in its own time.

i can absolutely spare some fluff ! that’s all i’ve got !

• javier goes to bed at about the same time that kieran is waking up every morning, right before dawn, and it’s a common occurrence that he will forget to untie his hair before laying down for bed, especially after a long night of guard duty. kieran will notice every time, and knows himself how easily long hair can get matted, so he will beckon javier over so that he can untie his bow. usually, he’ll also take the time to run his fingers through javier’s hair to detangle it as well, so that he’s even less likely to wake up to knots. javier adores it, teetering with the weight of his head and leaning hard into kieran’s legs on each side of his shoulders- sometimes kieran will even indulge himself in giving javier a head massage. javier never sleeps better, and coincidentally, he began forgetting to take his hair down a lot more after moving out to clemen’s point ….

• javier snuck kieran his first bowl of pearson’s stew after ‘making a social call’. john kicked kieran off his horse at the entrance of camp and javier watched as the latter dredged himself through the brush to what would become his usual resting place behind the rock by the horses. he looked miserable, dead on his feet, and javier knew by then he’d been weeks without a meal. he was a dirty, disloyal, unholy traitor of an o’driscoll, but something about his sunken eyes, the shake in his hand as he lit his first cigarette as a free man again- likely to quell off the hunger- it urged javier to act in a way that he’d never felt before. javier could kill a man in cold blood easier than he could stand to watch fear starve a man even after his hands are free to reach for the bowl. the study for learned helplessness in psychology will come years later, but javier understands himself now through watching kieran’s instinctual desire to survive be beat out of him by the gang javier dedicates his life to. with a healthy amount of spite to himself, he scoops a heaping amount of fresh stew into the cleanest bowl he can find, and sets out to add a fresh layer of flesh to kieran’s prominent bones.

• following this, cooking for kieran is one of javier’s favourite things to do when they get together. javier will cook for him traditional mexican dishes from home (as best he can. both with his limited skills and also with his limited accessibility to the proper ingredients. (probably for the best that he can’t get authentic chili peppers from home and has to use a less spicy chili native to this northern climate. kieran does okay with spice but it isn’t in his genetics to truly have a high tolerance.)) and not only will it be an unknown love language from javier, to feed kieran and make sure he is full, but it will also be a love language from kieran, to let javi share a piece of home with him.

• ^ also applies to modern au javieran ! javier loves cooking, and especially for kieran. they would cook together, but kieran struggles to cook with other people in the room, and javier gets so absorbed in it that he’d likely be running into kieran or otherwise being unhelpful in aiding in making sure the dish is being cooked correctly because he’s too Locked In to guide kieran LOL but they’re more happy to simply keep each other company, anyway. kieran on the counter/table/floor, watching javier sing and dance to the music he’s blasting from their speaker. cue dancing in the kitchen when the love songs come on (here’s a good one (rip javier escuella you would have loved dannylux)). the parallel play and quality time with these two is off the charts

• come mid/late clemens point, the way javieran make most of their money for the camp is by going on days-long fishing dates, laughing and laying close to one another in the grass under a tree on the riverbank in the shroud of darkness. they come back to camp flushed as all get out but with stacks of cash in their hands wadded up so thick no one dares to ask where it came from. kieran will get excited at even the smallest of fish, perking up and sharing/asking javier for tidbits on the species. they never miss a bite, either. one time one of the bells on their bobber rods rang once and they both broke out of a very hot and heavy make-out sesh so fast that javier tripped on kieran and nearly broke both of their wrists. they laughed so hard about it, javier was certain that by the time he arrived to his rod, the fish had already successfully ripped the bait off of his hook. he reeled in a boot, at the end of it all. he never lives it down.

• kieran is ambidextrous, and javier is fascinated by it. javier stumbled upon kieran writing on one rare occasion, and noticed immediately that he was writing with his left. “left handed, huh ?” kieran cocks his head at him in thought. javier wonders why on earth he would have to stop and think about a question like that. “uhh, not really ?” well, now javier is simply confused. “right, then ? is something wrong with your dominant hand ?” “um … no, that’s not it either …” and at this point, javier is demanding kieran explain what the hell he’s talking about, and why he’s pulling a prank on him. cue kieran explaining and javier making him do all kinds of silly “tests” like writing, shooting, playing guitar (as if kieran is going to any better with either when neither of them can do it right to begin with) because he finds it so cool.

• modern au kieran gets overstimulated incredibly easily, so he’s got a pair of noise canceling over-ear headphones that he often wears to dampen sensory input and ground himself when there’s a lot going on. when it’s cleaning day, generally no matter what he’s doing, he HAS to wear his headphones. javier is left to dodge him the same way he has to dodge the cats when they’re weaving in and out of between his feet. it also leaves him to dance to his own tunes when kieran suddenly swoops or sways or dips him to the music only he can hear- though just as often, javier will catch kieran dancing by himself and he will simply be unable not to join him, even though he can’t hear what it is he’s dancing to. as overwhelming as they can be, cleaning days for javieran somehow always end up feeling more like a date than anything.

• on a similar note, kieran also wears his headphones to bed, and listens to asmr/white noise to sleep. the pressure helps him feel safe, and the silence of a room makes him anxious. he also has a terrible bedhead and rbf in the morning. both of these things javier finds incredibly charming, and if he ever does wake up when/before kieran does (incredibly rare), this is his pov (right before he tries to kiss kieran’s face off and gets shoved away with a sleepy giggle that only bolsters his aggression);

nsfw under the cut !

and how could i resist a chance to finally talk about this ;3€ ?? i’ll try to keep them fluffy !

(context, i hc both of them as tguys usually (though im content with writing javier as amab too), with both of them being absolute, unabashed switches. they have little preferences anywhere in terms of bottoming/topping, though kieran has a preference for subbing, and javier has no qualms with domming more frequently.)

• as much raunchy, animalistic sex that javieran have, they have double as much slow, loving, tender sex. and most times between, they’re having raunchy, loving, animalistic sex.

• javi loves to turn kieran’s brain off, he loves more than anything to make kieran feel so overwhelmingly pleasured that he forgets everything that ever has, ever could, or ever will happen to him. nothing gets javier off quite like seeing the face of bliss kieran makes when all he can think about is javier’s mouth/hands/cock working overtime just to make him feel good.

• both of them i think are quite vocal when they’re able to be, and kieran tends to be vocal whether he’s supposed to be or not. both of them often dissolve into whimpers and “i love you”s and praise like “you feel/sound/taste so good” by the end. their love for each other has a carnal grasp on every aspect of their sex lives as well <3 so they’re always speaking so sweetly to each other, even if the way they growl it seems violent

• javier LOVES love bites. he loves to mark kieran up and he especially loves to bite and lick and suck on his neck, not only because of the primal aspect of his jugular being so close (as well as the warmth of his pulse thrumming against his mouth), but also because it arouses kieran to the point of making him shiver nearly every time. javier has permission to bite him hard, but it’s pretty rare that he ever does, and it’s only late into their relationship does javier feel like it will be more pleasure for him than it would just be pain. sometimes he can’t help it though, he’ll get so worked up that he just latches on and the way that kieran tightens around him is mind-numbing.

• unironically i think kieran is a GREAT soft dom, and that is something that javier generally had never experienced prior to getting with kieran. javi thinks it’s hot to be man-handled and roughed up, and kieran can do his very best (despite the constant guilt and fear) if javier is really feeling it, but where he really excels is soft domming. once the nerves melt off, he’s so gentle with javier that it makes the latter’s skin hot all over. constantly praising him, cooing at him, asking him nicely, rewarding him for good behavior, all the while touching him oh-so-gently, it all makes javier feel so awkward but so, so good. kieran makes him feel so loved and worshipped that the world in which he has anything to question simply just fades away, and all he has to think about is doing what meager tasks kieran asks of him.

• they find so much peace in each other’s bodies. in every rib and wrinkle and sunspot, these two will spend hours simply exploring and enjoying the body of the other in whatever the closest form of “privacy” they can manage to acquire. turns out, kieran has sunspots all over him. turns out, javier has a keloid scar on the back of his bicep. turns out, kieran has a mole on his scalp right where his part is (this is canon btw i saw it once when i was studying him in photo mode like a specimen in a petri dish), and javier has back dimples, and kieran’s ribs stutter and dance beautifully when he laughs, and the flex of javier’s thighs warps his skin like a marble statue. javier escuella and kieran duffy love like artists, and they spend hours just learning and looking and studying each other, like a painter with his muse, like a writer with his words, like the last things they want to see while they’re dying are all the hours they spent learning the beauty of the other.

i could honestly come up with more but it would never leave my drafts, so i hope u like these that i came up with as quick as i could :’) ! i hope you’re feeling better and have gotten some good rest !! thank you for the ask !!!!!

[afaroffsong]

Unpacking day is apparently even more exhausting than moving day. And we’re not done yet.

BUT I can feel my brain coming back to life. I’ve been thinking about reading and writing and actually feeling… excited? Hopeful? And it’s been months since I felt that. So maybe all of this craziness is good for me. XD

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 29 - Keepsake

They attacked at night. When everyone was asleep, when no one expected it. The women and children they could have easily subdued as soon as they were out of side of the settlement. But the men? The men may have been naive and tired but they also were angry from all the years they spent on the run and then in the hellhole of a town that had been Little Ala Mhigo.

They were afraid the men would give them trouble, so of course - like the cowards they were - they attacked them when they least expected it. In their sleep with spears pointed at their faces or blades at their throats. Torn from their dreams of a better future in the blink of an eye. The motivation and promises - it had all been a devious game of lies from the very beginning.

A’viloh was awoken by a sharp scream. And so was Laqa who had slept close beside him, arms wrapped around each other to keep one another warm in this cold winter night. Startled by the horrible scream A‘viloh had tried to sit up but Laqa had instinctively held him back and pulled him closer, trying to protect him.

„Shhh…“, he had whispered almost silently and signaled for A‘viloh to stay still. Laqa did not move but his eyes and ears scanned their environment. With one hand he steadied himself on the ground while the other reached for the dagger at his belt. Then as one of the armed men stepped closer, still thinking them asleep, Laqa leapt up like a snake that had waited for the right moment to strike.

A‘viloh, still with no clue what was happening at all, turned around to get a better look at the small makeshift camp they had set up for the night. Shocked he pressed a hand to his mouth, to keep himself from screaming as he saw the chaos unfolding in front of him.

He did not immediately recognise the people attacking them as the same ones who had promised to bring them into the city and give them work there, so they wouldn’t have to live in one of the slums outside of Ul‘dah’s gates. But he recognised the people that were pressed to the ground crying and screaming, while armed men tied them up. He recognised an ala mhigan man that had reached for his sword and tried to fight the attackers off, only to be hopelessly outnumbered. He was too proud to give up and threw all he had at his opponents, only to be struck down by a sword striking him from behind.

With a sudden burst of panic A‘viloh‘s eyes searched for Laqa, finding him only a few yalms away, still fighting against one of the men. Swiftly he swung his dagger at his opponent but his range just wasn’t good enough, at least fighting against a much taller enemy with a sword. Defensively he leapt back a little as the sword swung down towards him, trying to block the hit with his dagger. It slowed down the blow but his opponent was a lot stronger than him and kept pushing. Ilm by ilm the blade moved closer to his face and A‘viloh felt too petrified to do anything but watch in horror.

Then with an angry growl Laqa brought up his other hand, and grabbed the sharp blade of the sword, pushing against it with both arms, to keep the man at a distance. For a moment this duel of strength almost seemed equal, if not for the blood dripping off of Laqa‘s hand and running down his opponent’s sword. Then suddenly another man stepped closer and used the pommel of his weapon to hit Laqa against the side of his head.

With a scared shriek A‘viloh rushed forward to the other Miqo’te, who had instantly collapsed to the ground and now lay there unconscious. Protectively A‘viloh threw his body over Laqa‘s and, lacking any other means of denfense, hissed at the attackers. But the two men simply laughed about such a weak attempt of resistance. Roughly one of them grabbed A‘viloh by his arms and pulled him away, and in no time both of them had their hands tied up just like all the other innocent people who had traveled with them.

By the time the attackers had secured all of them and checked everyone for hidden weapons the sun already began to rise. A‘viloh shivered, lying curled up by Laqa‘s side, as the other Miqo’te slowly regained his consciousness and groaned in pain.

„Laqa!“, A‘viloh exclaimed silently and helped him sit up as good as he could with both his own hands tied up too.

„Vi?…“, the other Miqo’te said dazed. „Are you alright?“

A‘viloh nodded and looked down at Laqa’s tied wrists with worry. „Better than you at least…“

With a quiet hiss of pain Laqa unfurled his hand and looked at the deep red cut inside his palm. Carefully he tried to move his fingers, which fortunately still worked, but at the same time the movement made the wound start bleeding again.

„Hold still!“, A’viloh demanded and with his tied up hands needed a moment to awkwardly peel a soft deep-green scarf from his own neck. „Let me bandage that up.“

But Laqa pulled back his palm, knowing fully well how important that piece of clothing was to A‘viloh - the only keepsake he had of his dead mother. „No! Not with this! It will only get dirty…“

With a sad smile A‘viloh nodded, took Laqa’s hand and pulled it closer again. „It will, but this is more important. The cut will only keep on bleeding otherwise and you shouldn’t get dust and sand into it. I can try to clean the scarf if we make it out of this alive, but I cannot heal your hand…“

„I am so sorry…“, Laqa murmured while A‘viloh bandaged his hand but it sounded like more than just an apology for ruining A’viloh’s precious scarf.

„It‘s not your fault…“, A’viloh insisted, wrapping the thin, light fabric around Laqa‘s hand a few times, before making a knot and wrapping the rest of it around his lower arm.

With a guilty expression Laqa looked to the ground and stayed silent. Still slightly shaking, A‘viloh shifted to sit closely beside him and rested his head on Laqa‘s shoulder. With a sigh the blonde Miqo’te tilted his head to rest on A’viloh’s. „I am sorry, Vi… You have to be so scared...“

„I am.“, A‘viloh admitted and closed his eyes. „But I was more scared about you…“

[ravenvsfox]

hiiii just wanted to say that once upon a time when you were posting your rock band au of aftg someone sent you an ask saying they imagined the sound of the band as nothing but thieves and since then i've been listening to them i see them live tomorrow! what a funny way to discover new music that i could never explain to anyone ever! anway i miss your writing and i hope you're having a good day!

man this is so extremely special, and also I'm wildly jealous!!

I was just chatting with @heapstone (who may or may not be the original ask-sender) about how they associate Ausreißer with nbt, and how I've ALSO had that connection ringing in my ears for years now (I even write/edit listening to their albums), all because I read some books that inspired a fic that inspired an nbt fan to send me an ask—and now you fit into that chain as well!!

just really cool really silly stuff. the idea that I've somehow facilitated this art synthesis between a little clubhouse of nbt/aftg fans is so sincerely touching ❤️

have such a blast at the show, you'll have to think rockband au thoughts for me so I can be there in spirit 🙏🏻🤘🏻