700 and some odd words of a poorly elaborated on AU. i will talk more about it when i'm not in the middle of a sleep deprived time crunch (and @mysticotta, since you told me to share it, lol)
Weaving between windswept trees and near-desperately searching for any sign of anybody out there, Branzy is helplessly and hopelessly lost. District 20 wasn't a great place to be, but especially not this close to the coast. Everything swiftly becomes a threat of falling what seems like a million feet onto stony beaches below the harsh cliffsides.
Especially with the rhythmic sound of at least seven demons' footsteps trailing right behind him. It was a mistake, he knows that now, snooping around in an encampment that was far from his own.
Heart all but trying to claw its way out of his chest, he has his fleet-footedness on his side. Careful steps mean not tripping over his own feet, and by proxy the growing pain in his calves. Really, it's a wonder he's made it this far with how fast his mind and body are moving.
Though it's hardly in tandem with one another, instinct is the only thing keeping him from breaking his nose on one of the trees and getting dragged back to the camp he hadn't even stolen anything from. Maybe it's because in their eyes, he's just a human soldier that they caught sticking his nose in places he doesn't belong. Really, it'd probably be to his benefit if he left the curiosity in the past, but he can't help himself. He just gets so curious sometimes!
They're a secretive bunch, this troop. Always just out of sight when he finally gets the courage to go and try and spy on them. Which. Maybe that wasn't helping his case either, because now that he thinks about it, they've probably seen him looking around and keeping and eye on--
Thud.
Barely avoiding running right into one of the beech trees, Branzy spares only a single glance at the spear embedded in on the trees way too close for comfort before redoubling his efforts to find anybody that can help him. Because really, being chased isn't something he does often, and he's really starting to feel light-headed! Then again, he's putting more effort into keeping on moving than he is actually breathing, so maybe that makes sense.
For a fleeting moment, the smell of blood floods his senses, but it fades just as fast. His head is spinning, and for some godforsaken reason he's still running.
Where is he even going anymore? It's all just the perpetually windy slopes that run alongside the beach, caught in a windstorm that never seems to really stop. There isn't a person or place in sight aside from the soldiers that have yet to give up the chase. Three, now, if he had to hazard a guess from the hardly-there sound.
Hearing anything at all over the sound of his breathing and rabbit-quick heartbeat that refuses to quit drowning his thoughts is a wonder in and of itself.
Fight or flight, he'd heard it be called once, by a friendly human soldier that promised him a place to be if he just joined their side. She'd mentioned that he seemed quick to flee; a flighty one, were her exact words, if he remembers correctly. Well, she wasn't exactly wrong!
Through the haze and blur of practically infinite green and dusty tan, the shape of ram-like horns adorned a smear of red, black, and white. A familiar face that through the absent-minded swiftness of his movements, he finds himself heading toward before he can even spare is a real thought.
Which isn't great, granted he's running straight toward danger. Practically just throwing himself into the arms of the enemy.
Though, really, he doesn't make it even halfway to that destination before he trips, tumbling the rest of the way as the air leaves his lungs, speckles of black flooding his vision in a painful display as he finds himself sprawled on his back, looking up at the hunched over figure of a friend. Or rather, a foe that he can't bring himself to hate.
"Fancy meeting you here." Branzy wheezes, forcing a crooked grin between gasps for air.
Only for his friend-foe to cock his head, giving him an equally crooked look. "… Pleasure's mine? Mind telling me why you've decided that the ground is a comfortable place to be? Or where you picked up the acrobatics from?"
And really, all he can do is keep up that grin before the world slips from his grasp and he finds himself in the pleasant void of rest.
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Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words.
tagged by @stevethehairington, @steddieasitgoes, @judasofsuburbia annnd @thefreakandthehair thanks pals!
(I'm finally writing again after a week of being sick, sorry for the delay!)
His first night on the big ice and they were asking him about Munson?
ten points to anyone who can guess what fic this is from lmao
tagging: @stevecarrington @toburnup @riality-check @stargyles @eddieunbanished @eddiehashands @withacapitalp @thekingandthejester @horsegirleddiemunson @bonitabreezy @legitcookie
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I'm not really a fan of Evil Oswald AUS but eh i guess an idea ive been bouncing around is like, what if Oswald didnt back out on his whole "use the rocket to take Mickey's heart and leave the Wasteland" plan at the last minute and actually DID kill Mickey and Mickey's entire life his friends his job his namesake was all passed to Oswald as a result of owning Mickey's Heart...
so oswalds just kind of pretending to know what's going on but the reality is he just sort of murdered his brother and erased him from existence and took his life. and has to carry that memory and guilt. Forever Lol. Also Mickey is a snarky ghost that follow him around
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