#i originally wrote this in may
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kaisarion-tactical · 2 years ago
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Decisions | O'Breckenridge
After recent events... this one hurts.
EB -> SO: Sorry, change of plans. Meet me in the mess for dinner?
SO -> EB: No problem. I’ll find you later.
The news that they’d been cleared of suspicion in Cliffords’ death was a relief to hear, but Eisley knew that it meant back to work. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed, knowing that it meant a change in her plans with Séan. She’d gotten excited about the idea of spending the afternoon together, just hanging out like two normal people, a pocket of normalcy amid all the chaos and suspicion of everything else going on. 
No rest for the wicked, she supposed. 
She pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text message, smiling sadly at Séan’s quick response and flexibility about the change in plans. The way that she could hurt this man if she wasn’t careful. 
She listened as Kit provided an update on the situation, and the squad discussed the next course of action. More hacking into personnel and other files, identifying people worth talking to for information gathering purposes. Sgt. Hadrin had been on security detail that night; Eisley would need to talk to him, find out if he saw anyone unusual in the barracks that evening.
After a few hours of focused research and discussion, Eisley stood. “I’m going to mess for dinner. You coming?” she asked Rachel who was hovering over her laptop, typing furiously. 
“Yeah, in a bit,” Rachel replied.
Eisley sighed. “Don’t just subsist on Red Bull, okay? I’ll bring you something back.”
She made her way to the mess, letting herself be carried by the flow of bodies through the hall. She made her way through the line: some chicken dish, a rare occasion that they actually had a real piece of meat. Scanning the tables, she caught sight of at a table with a few other soldiers and made her way over. 
She slowed when several sets of eyes turned toward her as she approached. Séan grinned when he saw her, and the others dropped their eyes back to their dinner, although Eisley could still feel the occasional lingering glance. 
“Sorry I had to change plans this afternoon. Kit showed up right as I was getting ready, and well… duty calls, all that.”
“Hey, no problem. I get it. Things change at the drop of the hat. It’s the nature of the job.” 
Eisley smiled. She found Séan’s foot beneath the table, knocking her boot against his. She glanced up and Séan was watching her, and they held each other’s gaze for a long minute before Eislely looked away, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. A moment passed and there was an answering tap of a boot against her own beneath the table. 
“I was thinking next time we have an opportunity, we should go to the range.”
“The range?” Séan returned. “What for?”
Eisley, eyes still downcast, shrugged. “I want to see you shoot. Maybe we could have a friendly competition.”
Eisley could hear the smile in Séan’s voice. “Yeah?”
She glanced up briefly. “Yeah.” 
There was another tap of a boot against hers beneath the table, except this time there was sustained contact. Eisley could feel her face heating again. They might as well have been holding hands. Her finger clenched around her fork at the thought. 
“Where are you on shift tonight?” she asked.
“Exterior checkpoint duty. Why? You planning to come say hi?”
Eisley rolled her eyes. “Just curious and making conversation. It’s probably not a great idea to distract you while you’re on shift.” 
A small smile pulled at Séan’s mouth. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, but he tapped his foot against hers against the table once more. 
Eisley narrowed her eyes. “Tell me,” she pressed.
Séan’s ears went red. “I’d be distracted anyway,” he admitted. 
Eisley couldn’t handle this, her face hot once more at Séan’s words. “I said I’d bring something back for Rach since I don’t trust that she’ll eat dinner otherwise. We’ll make plans. For the shooting range.”
“Right. Just shoot me a text. You know where to find me.”
Eisley hovered for a few more seconds before picking up her empty tray and weaving her way through the tables and back into the line. 
She ignored the lingering glances as she went. 
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esaari · 10 months ago
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just Creed things
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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year ago
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How You Turn My World; Chapter 1
Your day started with chaos, and my dear, it looks like it will continue to be chaos. But only time will tell. The Underground holds many surprises in store for you.
Characters; Grim, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola
Content; Gender-neutral reader, cat shenanigans, building the plot
Content Warnings; Swearing, illusion to marijuana but there is none
Word Count; 4.6 K
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you go to the Underground and don't return. Mwah mwah, kisses~
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Ah, the joys of cat parenthood. Days spent cuddling your little bundle of furry joy. That’s what your friends preached. That having a feline roommate was easy and rewarding. That you would benefit by having a cute and fuzzy companion that didn’t demand much of anything. That you would love your little kitty friend like a child. Well, either your friends were liars with questionable senses of humour, or you drew the short stick when it came to choosing a furry companion. And there’s always the possibility of it being both, what with having Ace as a friend and all, but you just hoped it was just your shit luck and not that you had shit friends.
Seriously, though, what higher power did you manage to piss off to deserve the royal hobgoblin of a cat you have? He has shit and pissed in your plants on several occasions. Demolished every single curtain he laid eyes on like he had a personal vendetta against them. Stole your breakfast off your plate right as you were about to take a bite. Puked on your last pair of good white shoes, which still had stains on them because they wouldn’t come out. The cherry on top of it all though was that he insists on yowling and crying in the middle of the damn night for no good reason. Rudely awaking you from the dead of sleep because he demanded attention. With how loud he was, you were surprised that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint from any of your neighbours… yet. But then again, you could hear the upstairs neighbours’ children screaming bloody murder every so often — what were their names, the Clovers? They were probably so used to it that they threw you a bone, or they didn’t want extra grey hairs from filing a complaint to the landlord. So maybe Grim wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a gremlin child. 
“MROWWWWWW!!!!!” Ah, so tonight was no different then. Grim had decided that you needed to be woken up before even the birds started to sing, needed to be yanked out of the land of dreams. That whatever had caught the attention of his singular brain cell was more important than you recharging so you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to your boss. Since last time you had slipped up and called him dad, even though no one in their right mind would leave him alone with a rutabaga unattended, and he went on a two-hour long monologue about how much of a kind and generous person he was for you to see him as a father figure. And your salary wasn’t high enough, nor would it ever be, to deal with his eccentric and maddening behaviour.
Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored him and stared at the ceiling long enough he would stop his caterwauling and go to sleep. “MROWWWW!!!!!” Apparently not.
Just one night, ONE NIGHT, of peace and quiet. PLEASE. But you knew that if you didn’t get up soon, he would get up on the bed and put his fluffy butt in your face… like he did last night and the night before that. Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of your cocoon of warm, fluffy, blankets, and hoped you would soon be back in them after dealing with Grim. Hopefully, he was just complaining about his food bowl not being as full as he would like it.
What was the time anyways? Three-thirty in the morning? Ugh, Grim! What did Ace say about it, ah, yes, “Primetime witching hour. Demons and all sorts of creepies” yada yada yada. But you didn’t pay any mind to him, as his annoying smug look would taunt you in your mind even though he was probably sound asleep, blissfully asleep. Something that you wanted to be doing, but woefully you were not.
Stepping out into the main living space, you shot the grey fuzzball the stink eye. “What the hell do you want? You absolute gremlin!” You hissed through gritted teeth, very much annoyed with your brat of a fur child and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed, hell, even the loveseat would suffice.  
The offending feline just trilled at you in response, and his tail vibrated, happy that you had come out to see him. How is he so cute but so annoying? He rubbed against your legs before trotting off to one of his hidey holes, which also served as his nest of your stolen socks. He has a weird obsession with socks. But he popped back out, holding something in his mouth. Something small and fuzzy that didn’t look like any of his toys.
“Prowwww,” he dropped it at your feet as if saying that catching whatever it was, was the equivalent to paying his share of rent. Which, it was very much not.
You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. Please be one of his toys. PLEASE be one of his toys. You chanted to yourself in your mind and then opened your eyes. Unfortunately, it was not one of his toys. The small, fuzzy thing in question seemed to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent. It was too late (too early?) for this, and quite frankly you didn’t have the brain power to confirm whatever the hell it was. All you knew was that it looked like a mouse, therefore it was a mouse.
“Is this what you’ve been screaming about this whole time? A mouse,” you sighed. Shaking your head, you went to the bathroom, grabbing some paper towel so you could at least put it outside for something else to eat, or go back to nature in some other way. It was better than just being left to decompose in the communal garbage bin. When you came back out though, it was nowhere to be seen. Now, either Grim decided to eat it like a good kitty cat, or, with your luck, it was still alive and was now running amuck in your apartment.
Grim’s chattering was coming from the kitchen now, and he was up on top of the fridge. It was running amuck in your apartment, how lovely.
“Why, why, are you like this?! Get down from there!” You really didn’t have the energy for this.
Grim just blinked at you before his eyes dilated. He leapt down from his perch on the fridge and was pawing at a corner by the window. Looking down and you couldn’t make out anything on the floor. But you had the oh-so-brilliant idea to look up toward the ceiling. The ‘mouse’ was very much alive, and wasn’t a mouse at all, since it was flying around and banging itself against the corner.
“YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!”
He had indeed caught a fucking bat. And bats were normally fine, when they were outside. Not when they’re flying around your apartment at three o’clock in the morning and your cat is losing his goddamn mind trying to catch it. So no, this was very much not fine. 
The bat was about as pleased as you were with this whole situation and kept on flinging itself against the glass of the window, desperately trying to get back outside. How the hell did it get inside in the first place? That could be pondered on upon at a later time, as the first priority was getting it back outside.
“Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat,” you whispered in a non-threatening tone. Could the flying mammal understand what you were saying? Mostly likely not. Hopefully it understood that you, unlike your cat, were trying to help and did not want some fresh bat as your late night snack tonight.
After what felt like forever fuddling with the window to open with a broom in hand, just in case the bat decided to dive bomb your head, you finally got the cursed thing open. 
Grabbing Grim, who was still trying to catch the bat for a second time tonight, you got back to your bedroom and locked the door shut. You hoped that the bat would take the hint that it now had a path to freedom, but only time, and a bit of sleep, would tell. Slumping against the door frame, you sighed and looked over at Grim. He was playing with the door stop, the boing, boingg, boinggg sounds filling in the quiet. Whether it was to amuse himself, or to annoy you was a fifty-fifty bet.
Just as you were about to crawl back under the covers a string of anxiety connected in your head. Shit, did Grim get bit? DAMMIT GRIM! After leaving a somewhat desperate and tired call to your vet’s voicemail, alongside an apology for the late call (early call?), you peeked outside to see if the bat was still flying around. According to Google, the bat should be tested for rabies. You did not trust your no brain cell having fluff ball to know better than to get bit by a possibly rabid bat. But it was gone, so yet again, you were out of luck.
You had enough with today, even though it had just really begun. Pulling up the covers, you sighed in the dark warmth of your blanket cocoon. Grim was busying himself by trying to pounce on your feet, but you ignored him, falling back to sleep and hoping that the rest of your day wouldn’t bring any more shenanigans, migraines, or small flying mammals.
By some miracle, you managed to get Grim to the vet the very same day. Your boss agreed to let you work from home because he is ever so kind and generous… It did help that one of the other higher-ups nearly nagged off his ear upon hearing about the condition of your cat. Even through the phone you could hear it, and could only imagine the spectacle it must have been. Oh well, you had the day off and that is what mattered… but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cough out a laugh just imagining the scene on the other side of the phone.
You were relieved, Grim on the other hand was not having it. To be fair, you did trick him into his crate with some tuna. He made his disdain known to all though by crying the entire way there. You almost felt bad for him, almost being the key word. 
“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, ya know.” You huffed at him, feeling your shit sleep all too well. “Crying about it won’t help you any.”
Grim let out a pathetic little mew. His little, bright, blue eyes being the only visible part of him, which peered out miserably from the crate. Caving to the kitty manipulation, you poked your finger in as a peace offering. Grim booped his nose to your finger and then proceeded to nibble on it; such a vicious beast.
The vet visit went as well as you could hope it could, as Grim only tried to maim the vet a few times. Hey, it was an improvement from last time, as he had actually peed on them. So yes, trying to maim was vastly better than seeing your figurative child pee on the doctor. You’re pretty sure your vet didn’t go through years of schooling and thousands of dollars into debt just to get peed on by your unruly cat. But Grim was won over by the offering of that cat gogurt, his nose and stomach betraying him. Note to self, stock up on some of that stuff.
The rest of the visit went on without a hitch; he had some blood drawn, got his booster shot for rabies, and even managed to squeeze in a bonus nail trim. There was no evidence of any bite or puncture marks, so Grim by some miracle, did indeed have enough brain cells not to get bit.
“Grim will have to be watched for about forty-five days,” the vet hummed, checking Grim’s chart. “Since you don’t have any other animals it shouldn’t be too difficult to keep him in quarantine. If you see any symptoms be sure to bring him back, just in case.” They gave you a tired smile, and then turned that smile towards their cantankerous patient. “And thank you for deciding not to pee on me this time, Grim. I’m not so bad, see?”
Grim swatted at them, which was his answer to the vet’s question. In Grim’s book, the vet was that bad.
Ignoring his attitude, as you would whenever you came across a screaming toddler and exhausted parent while doing your grocery run, you turned back to your vet. “Thank you, and sorry for Grim. If it makes you feel any better, he’s just as much as a gremlin child at home as well.” At least today went better than last time.
The vet chuckled goodheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, I have more unruly patients than little Grim here.”
Damn, they have seen some shit, haven’t they? … Maybe I should, I don’t know, bring them a gift basket next time I’m in? Or maybe a gift card for a spa day or something??? You should really get them something for the amount of dry cleaning they probably needed to do.
With the visit over, and Grim having a clear bill of health, you shoved him back into his carrier with zero decorum, closing the door as fast as possible before he could escape and try to hide behind the counter like he did last time. I know your tricks, cat. Speaking of bills, the one that was waiting for you at the front desk was enough for you to point an icy glare at your unruly ward.
“You’re lucky that I love you, asshole.” And much like the vet you too got a swat as your thank you. Wonder if this is what the Clovers feel about their children? At least their kids didn’t wake them up in the middle of the night with a bat they caught… You shook your head, moving past those thoughts, and hauled your wailing cat back home.
...
By the time you got back to your place, it was just a little past noon. The rest of your day was wide open, and you didn’t really have anything else to do, since taking Grim to the vet was the most urgent of your tasks. Your place could benefit from some tidying, since your boss had recently been demanding more as of late and has been even less useful than he usually was… which was saying something. Seriously, how does he have his position? It was baffling. You swore you could hear his monologue playing on loop in your head whenever you thought of the man, which you tried to keep to a minimum for your own sanity… whatever little of it still remained that is.
Shaking your head to rid the annoying voice, you put on your favourite playlist and got to work. You took your time, putting away the dishes, vacuumed the main room, and even got rid of the dust on the high shelves. But your place was small, so it didn’t take very long for you to tidy up, and deep cleaning could wait for another day when you had enough energy to mentally and physically deal with that undertaking.
You knew that your email probably had a few messages, but it could wait. You weren’t on the clock and therefore didn’t have to check it. Only do the stuff you’re required to do when you get paid, it makes your downtime way more enjoyable.
But, you were bored. The cleaning helped with it, but with the majority of it done and the more intense stuff waiting for another day, you had nothing else to do. And while doom scrolling through social media may fill in the time, it too, was boring, predictable.
… There were two people though who were the exact opposite of boring and predictable. And yes, they did give you your fair share of migraines and questioning your life decisions more than you usually do, they were your best friends. And you were in need of having a movie night with them.
Opening up the group chat, you typed in a message.
| The Responsible One | You guys down for a movie night at my place tonight?
And almost immediately, Ace replied.
| Ginger, derogatory | depends  | ya got fiid?
Deuce responded shortly after.
| Mama’s Boi | Yeah, I’m down | What time? | . . . | And what’s fiid?
|The Responsible One | How does 6 sound?
| Ginger, derogatory | IT WAS A TYOP | *TYPO | I MEANT FOOD | F O O D
| Mama’s Boi | 6 works for me
| The Responsible One | I took a screenshot of that btw love you Ace | Thanks Deuce for actually giving me an answer. | What FIID do you guys want?
| Ginger, derogatory | FUCK YOU | … but yeah 6 works 4 me | any is cool with me
| The Responsible One | Yes yes, fuck you too Ace | Bring your own snacks it is then | See you guys at 6!
That gave you about ninety minutes to hide your good snacks, since the last time, Ace had made himself too comfortable and ate all your fancy treats that you paid way too much for. But like they say, you deserve to ‘treat yoself’ … Ace still owed you for those snacks though. They were fucking expensive, prick.
Ninety minutes didn’t take very long, but you managed to hide some of the mess that you hadn’t tackled in your bedroom; it could stand to wait. And the first of your dork friends arrived right on time, count on Deuce trying to be punctual… even if he was panting like he had run a marathon to make it.
“You know,” you sighed, “you didn’t have to sprint here.” You grabbed a glass, filled it with some ice water, and handed it over to your flushed and heaving friend. Please don’t pass out on me. “It’s not a race.”
Deuce took the glass and downed it, still catching his breath. He lifted up the tote bag he was carrying, “Mom made brownies.” A series of coughs escaped him, but he gave you a bashful smile and showed off the multiple Tupperware containers filled to the brim with still warm chocolatey divineness. “Didn’t want them to get cold! Oh! She also made extra for you too!”
He is such a sweetheart… but he’s also pretty dense at times, still a sweetie though. You could have just warmed them back up in the microwave — yes, they weren’t the same as fresh from the oven, but still — you didn’t have the heart to tell Deuce that though. He looked so proud that he made it on time and that the brownies were still warm. What did you do to deserve Deuce as a friend? 
“Also,” he fished around the tote bag, “I brought extra popcorn, since we ate all of yours last time.” And he pulled out an unopened bag of popcorn, the bashful smile turning bright.
Deuce took a step forward, but stopped and backpedalled, taking off his shoes. After he set them neatly by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, and set all of his assorted belongings on the meagre counter space. Once he unloaded the tasty cargo, he made his way over to your loveseat, which had seen better days, and sat down, getting comfortable.
He was looking at you, and there was a little crease in between his eyebrows. Deuce only wore that look when he was worried. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit… off.” 
You gave him a tired smile, “Meh. Tired, stressed, not enough money. You know, the usual.” You noticed that his frown was only deepening, so you took a seat next to him and patted his shoulder. “Seriously, Deuce, I’m okay. Plus you got enough on your own plate without worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.”
Deuce pursed his lips, but let out a long sigh, accepting your answer without much fuss. You were capable of dealing with whatever it was, he knew that. You were one of the most capable, and stubborn, people that he knew. You would be fine in the end. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie this time?” He asked, stretching out, trying not to bump into you.
“Hmm, your turn actually,” you hummed. “But��”
Bzz! Bzzz! BZZZ! Someone was buzzing your door, repeatedly pushing at the button. Only one person you know did that. BZZZZZZZZ! And he wouldn’t let up until you answered the door.
Groaning, you got out of your spot and peaked through the peephole. On the other side was none other than Ace, who’s leg was bouncing and he kept on pushing your damn buzzer.
You only opened the door when he decided to lean on it, making him almost fall… almost. Maybe next time would be the day where you would see him eat dirt. “Happy you could join us on this lovely evening,” you drawl, doing a little bow.
Ace rolled his eyes at you, “Seriously? Feeling petty tonight I see.” He too took off his shoes, since the last time he wore them in and tracked in mud from outside, you made him clean it up. He learned his lesson that day, and really didn’t feel like cleaning your floor again.
You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah I am~” You dropped the smile and went back to your comfy spot beside Deuce. “Also,” you turned around right as Ace was about to plunder your fridge. You glared at him, and he backed off, giving you a sheepish look. “Don’t even think about stealing my food, there’s popcorn and you have food at your home. Unless you want to start paying for my groceries, stick to what’s on the counter.”
Closing the fridge, Ace busied himself by making himself some popcorn, and sneaking a brownie or two in his mouth as he waited for the microwave to finish making his treat. While he was busy in the kitchen, you and Deuce were slowly going through the seemingly endless catalogue of movies. 
“What are we even watching tonight? There’s no special occasion,” Ace mused, sitting on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. “Action? Horror? Sci-fi? Perhaps,” he paused and made a kissy face, “romance?~”
You stared at him, until he dropped the kissy face. “Never do that again,” you deadpanned, turning back to the screen. “Found something?”
Deuce was hovering over a title, Labyrinth. “Can we watch this? Mom said it was one of her favourites when she was a kid.”
Ace plopped into the armchair, and started chowing down on his fresh popcorn. “Dude, your mom probs just had the hots for, uhhh, Jared? Or whatever his name is.”
You threw a pillow at him, but missed unfortunately, and Ace flipped you off. “First off, Ace, his name is Jareth not Jared. And yeah, we can watch it,” you said, stretching back and getting into prime comfortable blob position. Oh yeah, you weren’t getting back up. 
Once Deuce got up and brought some snacks back in, you started the movie. And damn, these brownies are divine. You really needed to ask Ms. Spade for her recipe. The popcorn was decent, overall meh, but the brownies! THE BROWNIES!!!
You all settled down after being rationed your snacks, and you pressed play. Ace and Deuce both nearly choked on popcorn when Jareth appeared.
“WHY ARE HIS PANTS SO TIGHT?!” They both choked in unison. 
You just rolled your eyes and ignored them, trying to focus on the movie. Other than you nearly having to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on the both of them, the movie continued without incident, until a certain gremlin decided to start crying right as Magic Dance began playing. Seriously Grim, must you choose the most inopportune time to act like Toby does in the movie? But that’s life with a cat.
You paused the movie and looked at Deuce. You were in prime comfortable blob mode, you weren’t getting up. Deuce patted you on the shoulder and went to go see what on Earth Grim was screaming about. Ace just continued to scarf back brownies, thank goodness you hid some away before he got here, or else you wouldn’t have any come tomorrow.
But Deuce came running back out of your room, since that was where Grim was. And you were about to question why he looked like he’d just seen a ghost when something blurred right past him; something small, fuzzy, and flying.
The damn bat is back?! Yeah, you definitely felt like you were cursed.
Now, you could either get up and deal with the bat, since Deuce was just trying to shoo it outside the window with a mop and Ace was screaming much like Grim was, or you could stay warm and comfy and hide under the blanket, pretending that this wasn’t your waking reality…
Option B was really tempting right now, to be honest. Sighing, you got up, massaged your temples to collect yourself, before arming yourself with a broom yet again. Grim has his rabies vaccine, you don’t, so you weren’t taking any chances.
“WHY IS THERE A BAT IN YOUR APARTMENT?!” Ace hissed, ducking as the bat swooped near him.
You opened the window right open, almost threatening to take it off its bearings, “Because the universe hates me, that’s why!” Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it contain a seed of truth? Yes. So that’s what you went with. Was it really an exaggeration though? In the past twenty-four hours it really felt like the universe was sending you a personal ‘Fuck You ♡ ' letter with a kiss mark on the envelope.
You and Deuce tried to work together as a team to coax the bat outside. Come on, the window is wide open. Come on bat, get your fuzzy ass out of my place. 
All that was happening though, was some scene that belonged in a Three Stooges act. With Ace and Grim screeching — yes they counted as one collective unit — Deuce trying his best, but not getting anywhere, and you feeling like you were about to explode from the stress and noise. Even on an impromptu day off, you didn’t get a break, not really.
Getting whisked away by the Goblin King is looking real appealing right now. The bat swooped down close to you, and your instincts kicked in and you swung at it, making it crash land into your coffee table, right into the popcorn. And alongside the popcorn getting spilled everywhere, there was also a poof of green sparkles.
When the green sparkles subsided, there was a strange person with long black hair and red streaks, wearing something that looked straight out of a Ren Faire, and he was standing on your table. The strange man looked straight at you, and you looked back, blinking fast. Did Ms. Spade give us a different kind of brownie? Or is this actually happening?
He snapped his fingers, and you watched as he slowly disappeared into another poof of green sparkles. You were backing up, since hey there was a stranger in your place out of nowhere, but thanks to your shit luck, you tripped over your own feet, tumbling into them. And as the green poof subsided, both you, and the stranger, were nowhere to be seen. Leaving a very confused Ace, Deuce, and Grim to wonder what the hell happened to you.
And honestly? You were thinking the same. Where the FUCK am I?!
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Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii
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Author's Note; And I'm finally showing this to the world, after months of collecting dust in my Google Docs. I have no idea how long this fic will go on for, and the length may be dictated by how much feedback and interaction this gets, so yeah. General rating for this is Teen but might change in the future; I won't tag people if that happens though, cuz, yeah.
If you enjoyed this story, and want to read more of my stuff while I slowly work on more installments to this fic, check out my masterlist! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, I write and die with no beta.
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befuddled-calico-whump · 5 months ago
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Augusnippets Day 15: Starvation
cw: drugging, substance dependency, starvation, emeto, sorta dehumanization, dissociation, nonsexual nudity, vague deathwish
previous // next
for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 537
=~=~=
He can no longer sit up on his own.
Too weak. In the sparse moments where he's coherent enough to think, the spy knows they're tapering off his rations. Hunger crawls up from his stomach like a swarm of ants, leeching what little strength remains.
He It is always trapped in a haze, but the haze is no longer big enough. It aches all day, unable to even sleep until someone brings another water bottle. Pain consumes its leg, hunger shivers in its bones. When guards pass by, it begs them for water, not food, wanting only to numb it all.
Sometimes they comply, but it's rarely enough. Are they taking away its relief too? Or has it built a tolerance to the drug?
(the thought terrifies the spy when he can comprehend it; the thought of never returning to himself)
It can hardly move. It doesn't want to move. When the stubborn thing inside tries to lift its head, there is only dizziness, more pain, a fleeting fear that this may be the end.
The creature wants none of that. No thoughts, no senses, only the drug that allows it to sleep.
They bring it water and it drinks and nothing happens. No fog, no sudden emptiness. It whimpers into the concrete for hours or days.
The bring it water and it drinks.
(no food)
It can't stop shivering, nausea twisting its empty stomach.
(why can't you do something why can't you move why couldn't you have held fast)
They don't bring it water.
Two guards, it can see them through hazy vision. Its eyes hurt, its head aches.
(this is different)
They grab its arms, dragging it out of the cell, bad leg howling, utter agony, creature howling with it, voice weak
(pathetic, could've ran, could've done something)
the movement and pain and nausea and dizziness are all too much after it's been allowed to feel nothing for so long and it heaves up nothing, bile on its tongue, tears in its eyes. They drag it somewhere and it hurts it hurts it hurts.
(could've turned it down)
would've died
(would've been better)
They have to hold it up, hands around and under its arms. Someone else is talking at it, but it doesn't matter. It hurts and it's cold, colder than the cell was.
(when did they take his clothes?)
It tries to vomit again, left with a sour string of spit clinging to its chin. Over, it just wants it to be over, just wants it to—
Its head jerks up so quickly it sees spots when it hears the snap of a bottle opening. The new person is holding it out
(smirking)
It tries to reach for the bottle, can't shake itself free of the hands, trapped. It can't make sense of the stream of words pouring from its mouth, but it can't stop them either.
pleasepleasepleaesithurtspleaseithurts
(you were supposed to be better than this you were supposed to endure–)
The man laughs.
“Damn. Guess you really can do a number on a guy without lifting a finger.” He screws the cap back on, ignoring the creature's despairing whine.
“Put him back for now. I think he's almost ready for some questions.”
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luckyartdrawer · 1 month ago
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Goobies, I drew the moon idea that was stuck in my head, just to get it out, ended up with a completely different drawing, and now I'm staring at a dastardly evil Moon man in a sun hat and trench coat looking so sly HELP
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This was supposed to make the brain worms go away so I can focus on work/not lose the idea and sleep in peace, not to slowly convince myself to invest in a long ass drawing session >:O
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I mean I'm still gonna sleep so I can grind out my final this next week, but oml I think I made things harder for myself.
Challenge to not give this man the most dramatic lighting immediately-
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reds-skull · 3 months ago
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I'm researching Scottish mythology for the Cyberknights AU, and I was skimming through the wiki entry for the Glenmasan manuscript (I'd tell you what it is, but I haven't actually finished reading yet), when I read this sentence
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Like what are the fucking chances
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daddyplasmius · 1 year ago
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Danny Fenton isn’t dead. And Maddie is grateful for that, as his mother. But, as a scientist, she knows, realistically, he should be dead. Yet here he is, walking around with enough ectoplasmic contamination in his system to kill a grown man ten times, acting like nothing is wrong. What the honest fuck.
Maddie’s first theory is ectocontamination. A severe case. The problem with this theory is that there’s no proof of contamination besides the absurd amount of ectoplasm in Danny’s system. No adverse health effects as far as they can tell. Which is oddーwhen she compares it to her other theories.
Her second theoryーJack’s firstーis possibly low level possession. But, again, Danny shows no signs or symptoms besides his ectoplasmic levels. He can even pass through the Fenton Ghost Shield.
Third? Maybe he isn’t affected as much by ectoplasm and so it just sticks to him without any adverse effects. She did handle samples while pregnant, which wasn’t very good. But, again, the problem here is that the same could be said of Jazz, and she has a perfectly normal level of ectocontamination. And when she had gotten severely contaminated, Jazz fell illーalong with dozens of other students from Casper High.
It is quite literally just Danny.
Danny Fenton is an enigma. Maddie finds herself stuck in this thought loop often. Her son doesn’t even seem to notice the absolutely massive amount of ectoenergy he gives off. Normally, that much would be coming from the deceased victim of contamination or a ghost, not a healthy, living teenager.
And Danny is healthy. Nothing is wrong with him besides that. Which is weird. Well, it’s good that he isn’t dying, but… scientifically impossible. Never before witnessed. An anomaly in the field of paranormal science. A human giving off so much ectoplasmic energy a day, it could fuel a blob ghost, without recharging, for ten years.
Another mystery. How did Danny discover blob ghosts before she or Jack did? Why didn’t he tell them before one wandered out of his room? And why on Earth would he give them such a ridiculous, albeit accurate, name?
Maddie feels like her head is going to explode. She wishes she could justーask. But her son thoroughly avoids any mention of ghosts. Add it to the list. Because that’s what this is becoming. Just a list of odd things about her son that she can’t solve. Her son that should be dead, but against all odds isn’t.
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ckret2 · 5 months ago
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Are you perhaps going to add Bill's evident medical trauma into the story?
Bill's been getting called insane for seeing the third dimension by his mom since chapter 15 and I've mentioned his vision is tied to a medical condition he was born with. We were already going there.
Only difference is now he's going to an optometrist in addition to an orthopedic doctor.
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goldentigerfestival · 1 month ago
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Genealogy of the Condemned/Convicted novel manga first chapter is done and ready to go!
You can read it here and here (second link is recommended for the notes page specifically).
Things to be aware of with this manga:
This is a short manga of six chapters. It doesn't cover even the entire childhood arc, let alone the whole novel.
Some lines are taken directly from the novel, while others were similar but not identical, and others were changed to fit manga style dialogue bubbles.
Not everything in the manga is 1:1 with the novel, but it's all pretty close.
I hope you enjoy!
Translation by me.
Scans by @suguelya.
Cleaning by Jenners and myself.
Typesetting by me.
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marlynnofmany · 1 year ago
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Small-Scale Comedy
A lot of the time when our little courier ship makes deliveries to alien planets, the captain will send someone of the customer’s species for the hand-off. It puts them at ease to see a familiar face and all that. Usually. Other times, the customer is of a notoriously egotistical species, likely to feel affronted if the delivery person has a shinier exoskeleton than they do.
Guess which today was.
“Good greetings,” Mur said, looking up at the insectlike bundle of limbs that loomed over him. Our customer for today was colored in white and the palest pinks, edging into more vivid red at the ends of her legs, and the blades of her pincher arms. She looked like a murderous flower.
And while we had two perfectly eligible Mesmers back on the ship, one of whom I’d accompanied on similar deliveries before, Captain Sunlight had decided to send in two of the squishiest crewmates instead.
Mur lifted the package with half of his tentacles, using the rest to hold himself up at a respectable height. I stood behind him with the payment tablet. I tried to stand very still.
Instead of grabbing the box or offering to pay, the customer called imperiously for someone to come open it for her. We were indoors, in what I’d thought was an empty room aside from all the tables molded from the same brown clay as the walls, and the copious amounts of junk on them. (Buildings here were made of the classiest mud I’d seen in a while, with burnished tabletops and patterned walls. But the mess of scientific equipment and photography supplies was much less classy.)
One of the locals scurried out from one of the many holes in the wall that I’d honestly thought were decoration, but now that I thought about it, there had been a balcony at about that height outside. No need for elaborate doorways when you’re shaped like a centipede.
Yeah, our customer was a large bug person spending time among smaller bug people. This was a comparison that was probably only amusing to me, so I kept it to myself. I’m getting good at that.
The centiperson — no idea what they’re actually called — scuttled over and took the box from Mur. This looked like a risky operation to me, and I had my hands out to catch it just in case the leg-sized whatever toppled over backward, but everything went fine. Their many top legs clung to the box while that long body curled into an S, and their bottom legs skittered over to set the box on a table. Then the centiperson manipulated the combination lock with some very skilled little leggies, and opened the box.
The Mesmer swooped in to pull out a sheet of what looked like tiny stickers, muttering and inspecting it for flaws. When I was starting to wonder if Mur or I should remind her that she still needed to pay for the delivery, she handed it off to the centiperson, whose many legs handled it with more dexterity than her little wrist fingers could. Mesmer pincher arms are excellent at doing damage, but not great for detail work.
“Right, yes, money,” she said, turning back toward us. “Put those on the three in the test chamber!” That part was for her assistant, who was already climbing up onto a table full of terarriums and lightboxes. “Tell me they’re doing better!”
I held out the payment tablet. She grabbed it with a pincher and typed in her information, making me glad for the thick rubber casing on the edges. We could have used a metal case for it, but Zhee had demonstrated how easy those were to dent by crushing one with his own pinchers. It had turned out like a work of art.
“They are healthy,” reported the small voice of the centiperson. “I have applied the cameras.”
“And?” demanded the Mesmer, striding over without giving the tablet back. “Show me!” She peered down into a white-sided box that currently had a lot of lights aimed at it.
Before I could ask, something happened in the box to make the Mesmer exclaim in frustration and lift the tablet skyward. Mur made a noise, worried just like I was that she was about to smash it.
But instead she just stalked back over and thrust it into my hands. “Here. Either of you know much about animals?”
I, with my veterinarian training, had to answer, “Yes.” Mur was pointing at me with multiple tentacles.
“Good. Tell me what is wrong with these animals.”
I found myself ushered over none too gently, while the centiperson moved aside and the Mesmer spoke at length about the videography work she had come here to do.
“The final thing I need is a point-of-view recording from one of these, and I have acquired the absolute smallest of camera tabs, and I am starting to worry that the local population is diseased.”
“Why?” I asked uneasily. The white box held three tiny whatevers, each smaller than my last finger joint, as brown as the walls. They had froglike hopping legs, though none seemed interested in going anywhere. Their faces were pointed like bird beaks, and an itty-bitty camera tab sat on each head like a tiny hat.
“Their jumping is impaired,” the Mesmer said from above me. I made a mental note not to turn around quickly. “And I know that it’s not the cameras throwing them off; those have the molecular weight of smoke. I’m more concerned that something is wrong with all of the creatures here. None of the ones we’ve caught can land on their feet.”
To demonstrate, she stuck a pincher blade into the box, which made the three not-frogs scatter.
Wow, she’s not kidding, I thought as they landed on everything but their feet. They scrambled upright quickly enough, but that was some spectacular tiny pratfalls.
From right next to me, Mur asked, “Is there a disease that causes that?” He’d climbed onto the table himself, and was watching with interest.
“It’s possible,” I said. The centiperson was observing in silence, and I asked, “Are they always like this?”
“Yes.” The answer came quickly, in a flat voice that suggested this conversation had happened before.
The Mesmer waved a pincher arm, folded this time. “The entire population may be suffering from something, either a creeping illness or a low-level poison.”
“It could be,” I said slowly, watching the centiperson turn their head toward the ceiling in what looked an awful lot like exasperation. “Or these animals could be built like a small animal on my planet, with a similar problem.”
I had all their attention now.
“What problem?” demanded the Mesmer.
“Their inner ear is too small to work properly,” I said, gesturing toward the side of my own head. “The part that senses which direction gravity is pulling. It has fluid that needs to slosh around, but the channel isn’t big enough to do it.”
There was silence for a heartbeat, then Mur said “Wow,” and the Mesmer said, “WHAT?”
The centiperson just said, “That makes sense.”
“An entire species can be like that??” exclaimed the Mesmer, stepping back to where she could gesture without hitting anything.
“We did tell you,” said the centiperson.
“I thought it was toxins!”
The centiperson looked at me. “The common name for them is ‘headhoppers.’”
“I thought they had a habit of jumping onto people’s heads!”
Not replying to that, the centiperson produced a little hand net from the far side of the table, and deftly scooped up the tiny not-frogs. They really were about the size of Pumpkin Toadlets, just not bright orange, or fully frog-shaped. Once these had their tiny camera-hats removed, they tumbled willingly into a terrarium full of plants.
“Well,” Mur said, “That’s interesting.” He hopped to the floor with a splat.
The Mesmer was complaining to the world at large that fate was cruel and she’d never get the recording she wanted.
I looked to the local. “Are there any similar animals that are a little bigger?”
“YES.”
“Did you already tell her that?”
“Also yes.”
The Mesmer whined, “They’re nocturnal.”
“Flashlights exist.”
I stepped away from the table, careful to bring the tablet with me. “I’m pretty sure you can come up with a workaround. You should listen to your local expert here; sounds like there’s a wealth of information ready and waiting.”
The centiperson spread many legs and looked skyward, which looked grateful to me. The Mesmer grumbled but didn’t say no.
Already halfway out the door, Mur said, “Good luck with everything!”
I echoed the sentiment and followed him with a wave. The centiperson waved back: a rolling motion along one side that looked especially jaunty. The Mesmer’s arm motion was more of an “Ah, whatever,” but I’d take it.
“So tell me more,” Mur said as we walked back to the ship. “The tiny animals on your planet land on their faces every time? How are they still alive?”
“Well, they’re too small to really get hurt by it,” I said with a shrug. “And I’ve heard it said that any predator is probably laughing too hard to eat them.”
“Yup, that’s definitely it. Your planet sounds hilarious. I’d love to visit someday.”
“You should!” I said. “It’s a great place. Though you know what other animal jumps like that? Fleas.”
“What’s fleas?”
“Oh, let me tell you about fleas.”
~~~
The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!
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boomdeyadah · 2 years ago
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Kind of a day 4 and 5 mashup for @jonmartinweek ! Cuddles and naps with the added knowledge that this whole situation is extremely ace. Image ID in alt text.
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radarsteddybear · 5 months ago
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The bad news is that I woke up with a migraine but the good (?) news is that last night I had a dream where Father Mulcahy told me (in my living room, for some reason) that he didn’t want to be a priest anymore (and I was like oh! I know exactly what it’s like to want to change careers like that! good for you!) and that he instead wanted to run a brothel.
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adhd-merlin · 2 months ago
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No one:
Me: can we talk about gaius and uther for a minute. like I do think their dynamic is meant to echo the dynamic of merlin and uther in the original Arthurian texts. like. guys who have made each other sooo much worse. one of them being complicit in the horrors tm but they are too codependent to break up so they just wallow in their guilt while the other spirals into tyranny. (did I just use ‘codependent’ and ‘break up’ in ref to uther and gaius. yes)
I don't know much about og uther and merlin but that's a fascinating thought. do you think it was intentional? probably not. but I love when you can perceive some flavour of the original arthurian texts in bbc merlin's characters/dynamics
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dipendenteconad · 1 year ago
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[[Ignore me yapping about LiuHan once again]]
Kinda NSFW-ish towards the end?? Idk, but in case you've been warned.
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Intensively thinking about Bi-Han and his brothers returning to their camp at night after a mission that couldn't have gone more wrong, and Bi-Han fucking losing it. Deep down, he acknowledged that the three of them, and their Lin Kuei group overall, did everything they could and that their mission was a lost cause before it even began, but he couldn't help being disappointed, nevertheless, not only with his skills, but also with his brothers'. It infuriated him thinking that someone challenged them and survived to tell the story, and he couldn't help but wonder what their clan thought of their leader, now that they saw him lose so miserably. Like it was usual for him, he ended up taking his anger out on anything and anyone he saw: he screamed, threw insults and some fists like he was 5 years old all over again until, eventually, Kuai and Tomas joined forces and told him to kindly go fuck himself if all he had to do was argue and complain. It was useless to fight over something they didn't have control over anymore. Their first try failed, period. Now, they had to stick together and stay focused if they wanted to actually put an end to their mission and catch the guy before they were to lose his tracks.
Mission that, of course, was assigned by no one if not Liu Kang himself. Bi-Han then, as Grandmaster, had the job to visit him and tell him how things went (even if useless considering that he'll already know the outcome. Probably, he even expected them to fail).
Then, I imagine Liu finding an angry Bi-Han at his Fire Temple, so lost in his wrath that he didn't even make sense as he talked: with quick words and a croaky voice he explained to Liu why they couldn't complete the task they were entrusted with; still, all while omitting the parts where he was the one to misjudge the situation. While normally Bi-Han would bow and calmly ask for forgiveness, still staying as much professional as he could, now the cryomancer was so angry that he didn't care about ranks anymore, as he entirely ignored Liu Kang trying to participate in the conversation. He just complained and complained, like a broken record, and if Liu tried to answer, Bi-Han just talked over him to get defensive and bitter.
It was already a couple of hours that Bi-Han was at Liu's temple, and the God has never heard him talk so fucking much?? But, at the same time, Liu Kang noticed that Bi-Han was getting tired, and that the only thing keeping him on his feet was sheer frustration. So, as a last resort, he tried to get him to relax by inviting him in his room to let him rest his head on something soft, as Liu knew that was the only thing he needed to have him fall asleep on the spot. He couldn't speak with Bi-Han in the state he was at that moment: only after he'd have rested, he could have talked to him about the mission.
Except that Bi-Han didn't seem to like his idea, despite Liu Kang convincing him to catch his breath on his bed; one moment he was talking about Tomas, the other he was still insulting their target. For how much patience Liu Kang was gifted with, he, too, was starting to have enough. It wasn't like the Lin Kuei had just let World's end happen. There was no reason for Bi-Han to get that worked up. As a distraction, while Bi-Han was finally resting with his back flat against Liu's mattress, the latter sat next to him, and gently started stroking the man's black hair with his fingers, even getting some of it out of the tight bun, just see how Bi-Han would have reacted: with pleasure, he found that Bi-Han was welcoming his touch, and he didn't snatch his hand away, like he would have normally done. Deciding to test his luck furthermore, Liu Kang then slowly caressed the man's face as well, feeling that his cheeks had warmed up with the way he had been yelling moments before.
Now that he was calming down, Liu Kang finally had the opportunity to talk back: he decided it was best, for now, to just reassure him. He told Bi-Han that their target wasn't someone who needed them to take immediate action, and that the only reason he was able to run off was because the Lin Kuei wasn't familiar with his fighting methods, so they let themselves be fooled; but, now that they were more aware, the next time they'd have surely destroyed him.
Bi-Han had stopped talking for some time, as he was listening to Liu Kang's soothing voice with half-closed eyes. Even if he seemed so, Liu knew he was far from relaxed. So, at last, he bowed his head and kissed Bi-Han chastely on the lips as a sign to finish there the conversation and invite him to rest together, but as he was still bent over him, Bi-Han quickly grabbed him by the back of his neck to force him into another kiss, this time a more passionate one. Without the heart to turn him down, Liu Kang reciprocated until their short make-out session left both men breathless. Even if Bi-Han had always been rougher in bed, this time he was even more aggressive as he kissed Liu with force and hunger, biting his lips until he drew blood and forcing his tongue inside the other's mouth.
Without letting Liu the time to do anything, Bi-Han changed their positions and quickly got up to press bites all over the God's exposed neck like he didn't want to leave a single piece of skin unravished by his lips; meanwhile, his still gloved hands traveled the other's body and hastily helped him get out of his clothes. Bi-Han had gotten so impatient that he didn't even care where Liu's clothes landed once he threw them across the room.
Curious by the sudden change of atmosphere, Liu Kang let Bi-Han do everything he wanted; the bites felt good, but hurt with the same intensity. At last, he found himself yanked hard against the mattress with his chest bared and Bi-Han looking down at him like he was starving and Liu was the first piece of meat he had seen after weeks. (Well, probably they hadn't gotten intimate in some time, but he certainly didn't image Bi-Han to be that desperate).
Bi-Han insisted on assaulting Liu Kang with kisses, not even caring about the way he was already getting some sounds of approval out of the other's throat. There was no tenderness in Bi-Han's touch, clearly he was just chasing his own release, but Liu didn't seem to care: his lover was trying to relieve stress, and who was him to tell him no? Besides, he liked to see just how desperate the Grandmaster could get only for his body.
One thing led to another, and the two men both found themselves nude. Bi-Han's thrusts were brutal and graceless, and his moans were louder than usual. Liu Kang didn't even come, but he didn't bring himself to care as the only thing he was focused on was hugging the man above him and caressing him as he was being devoured alive.
Once Bi-Han was finished, he looked like a different person compared to the first time the two saw each other that night. His hair was a mess, his lips were swollen and tainted with both their blood, and his back was covered in scratches. He looked at Liu Kang one last time, noticing that he had left him in an even worse condition. Before the tiredness finally took over his body, Bi-Han leaned in to press a last, soft kiss on Liu Kang's lips. It was the sweetest one he had ever received.
The morning after, Liu was the first one to wake up, with too many marks on his body, which he didn't know how to explain, and a pain that made all his muscles throb. But, despite everything, he was smiling, seeing Bi-Han sleeping next to him with the most serene expression he had seen on him after months of being together.
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offorestsongs · 28 days ago
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i love being friends with a bunch of autistic people with hyperspecific interests. i was complaining about how i was searching how to safely pull an arrow out of a wound and how the quora discussion i've read was wholly unhelpful and one of my friends INSTANTLY went "who. what arrow. where it is. tell me and i'll tell you how to deal with it" <3
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truly-morgan · 6 months ago
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It's been 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 of them fighting, a perfectly rehearsed dance on a tightrope, close to tipping over the edge at times yet always managing to come back to perfect equilibrium.
It's a routine. It's something familiar. It's nearly boring how it always happens the same. Arguing the same thing over and over, like a broken record.
The other one simply becomes a part of your life. There's a thrill to the fight, one that cannot be found from fighting anyone else. Not the latest villain of the month. Not the new upcoming Hero. Those are nothing compared to what they have.
But then one day they can't bring back the perfect equilibrium.
But then one day even the broken record won't play anymore.
It had started like every other fight.
It ended like none other before.
All Hero can do is stare back at the Villain, a strange feeling of dread spreads through them. This is what they had been fighting for so long, yet none of this feels right.
They can't even move to get closer, body too sore from the final attack, too stun to even be able to try properly.
Their heart sinks when they hear a soft chuckle, something they never heard before. Something they feel they would never have wanted to hear.
"Come on…" the Villain says, voice raspier than ever, breath wheezing unevenly, "You knew this would happen eventually".
And the smile. The painful smile, unlike anything ever seen on Villain's face, they wish he was smirking in an evil way instead. Not something so weak, so fragile and so 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵.
Before they know it their vision blurs, tears spilling over.
"Now now, don't cry," a chuckle, quickly followed by wet coughing and blood, "The hero shouldn't be crying for the villain of the story". Yet the tears can't stop, not when some are also welling in the Villain's eyes.
The silence is deafening.
And before Hero can even say anything, he sees the light dim, glossy eyes growing lifeless.
When they finally managed to scream their name, it's too late, there was no one to answer anymore.
It's too late.
They keep screaming, weak body crawling to the motionless one.
The next thing they know, they wake up to worried faces, who grow relieved quickly. Wake up to congratulations and thank yous.
Wake up to a deep void inside their chest.
And the void doesn't go away.
Not even after recovering. Not even after attending, hidden afar, a small clandestine funeral held by a loyal right-hand man. Not even after going back to the crime-fighting life.
All that is left is a lone funambulist.
All that is left is a broken record without a turntable to play it.
And it is now too late to regret. Too late to realise something that had been hidden deep inside for so long.
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Twt original Inspired by this tweet (picture under the cut) ↴↴↴
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