#its just i barely remember a good chunk of it its been so long

[gu6chan]

ohhhh wait i just remembered my older half-sisters are in direct range of hurricane milton what the fuck

[effetsecndaires]

— 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. (𝟐)

➺ PAIRING | sanemi shinazugawa x reader

➺ CONTENT | mention of injuries and needles, this is mostly shinobu x reader tbh... but sanemi is here dw ☝🏻 word count: 1,5k ish

➺ NOTE | read part 1 + I'll be tagging people who showed interest in a part 2 below! also it's currently 4am, I'm terribly sorry if this turned out awful 💀

“Miss Y/N!”

You raise your head to see Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho rushing towards you, worry etched onto their faces as you cross the gates of the Butterfly Estate. A Kakushi is carrying you on his back, his steps steady yet urgent as your crow leads the way.

"Urgent! Injured in battle! Right leg severely damaged! Left hand missing fingers! Immediate medical attention required!" it squawks, its wings beating rapidly as it nervously circles above then flutters down to perch on a roof nearby.

Everything happens so quickly.

One moment you're hanging limp on a Kakushi's back, clinging to consciousness for dear life — the next, you're being gently lowered onto a stretcher, a needle swiftly inserted into your arm. Your uniform is all torn and bloodied, barely hanging onto your battered body. A chunk of your skirt has been ripped and used as a makeshift bandage to stop some of the bleeding on your leg, but it really hasn't been doing much to help.

You're whimpering in pain when Sumi hurries to your side, her hand coming to support your head while Naho starts unrolling fresh bandages, her hands trembling slightly but steadying as she works.

"You'll be alright, Miss Y/N!” Kiyo reassures you, though her voice wavers slightly. "We need to get you inside and properly treated!”

As the Kakushi lift the stretcher, you feel a wave of dizziness wash over you. The Butterfly Estate's familiar surroundings start to blur along with your vision as you’re being carried towards the main infirmary, the scent of medicinal herbs growing stronger with each step.

You want nothing more than to reassure everyone, to tell them that you’ll be okay, that it really isn't as bad as it looks... but the pain and exhaustion only make you drift in and out of consciousness. You can’t fool anyone—not even yourself.

The last thing you see is Shinobu stepping forward and nodding to the Kakushi as they carefully set you down on the treatment table, her gentle voice following:

"I'll take it from here.”

–

Your eyes squint in the harsh light as you look around and try to make sense of your surroundings. The sun makes it hard to see and your head feels fuzzy, the world around you swimming in and out of focus.

You barely catch the sound of your crow’s wings as it flies away to alert the hashiras of your awakening, the flapping quickly fading into the distance.

How long have you been here for?

You remember fighting an upper moon, but everything after that is a blur. You can’t even remember how or when you were brought to the Butterfly estate. Is this even Shinobu’s estate? Or did another pillar find you and carry you to theirs?

You barely have time to properly emerge when you're met with a gasp of your name and a familiar red-haired boy rushing to your side. You blink, watching as his hands hover uncertainly before resting gently on your good arm.

“Tanjiro,” you manage to whisper, smiling faintly.

“You're awake! How are you feeling? We were so worried about you!” Tanjiro exclaims, his eyes shining with their usual tenderness as you reach out to pat his head. Behind him, Genya appears, his expression a mixture of relief and anxiety.

“I’m alright... Just a little tired and achy. How long have I been out for?”

“You've been sleeping for a week.” Genya responds.

“A week?!”

Shit. This can't be good. So many things can happen in the span of a week. The thought of having left everyone down fills you with a terrible feeling. What if one of the villages needed reinforcements while you were asleep? What if more demons had attacked? Are all eight of the the pillars still alive?

Your mind races with worry, your brain feeling like it's about to overheat.

When you finally find it in yourself to start asking questions, the door to your room opens and Shinobu calmly walks in.

“Shinobu! How… how's everyone?”

"Everyone’s fine. We've all successfully returned from our missions so far, you don't have to worry." your mentor responds.

"What about the slayers that were sent to back me up? I… so many of them were injured."

Shinobu's expression grows a little somber as she nods. "There... There's been a few losses. Oyakata-sama wants to visit their resting place with you, once you're back on your feet," she continues gently. Your heart clenches in your chest, but you nod regardless.

"I’m sorry. I should've done more to protect them.”

Your crow returns and sets on your belly, your unharmed hand coming to pet it.

"You did everything you could. Surviving an encounter with an Upper Moon is already impressive." Shinobu adjusts the blankets around you, her hands deft and practiced. She then gently places a hand on your shoulder, providing some much needed comfort. "You need to focus on getting better so you can help us save more lives when the time comes."

"...Okay," your voice trails off, uncertainty coloring your tone. You find yourself staring at your bandaged hand and leg for longer than necessary, the reality of your condition only now sinking in.

This was bad. Really, really bad.

What purpose could you possibly serve now, with two missing fingers and possible lingering damage to your body? How are you supposed to wield your sword in this condition? Will you even be able to return to your position as a Hashira?

"Rest is essential for you now," Shinobu’s kind voice interrupts your train of thoughts. "I did my best to get rid of the poison in your body and clean your wounds, but you're going to need several months of rest to make a full recovery."

Just then, the door to the room slides open with a loud, forceful thud. All four of you startle, and you wince as the sudden movement sends a jolt through your injured ribs. You glance toward the door with a scowl, meeting Sanemi’s gaze.

Jesus Christ. Does he always have to be such a brute all the time?

Shinobu's fists tighten at her sides, a vein popping on her forehead at the sudden interruption - though her signature smile remains.

The Wind Hashira stands there for a moment, his jaw clenching at the sight of you awake and his younger brother standing beside your bed.

To your relief, he doesn't make a scene. That's a first.

Instead he goes to stand beside Genya, and although he seems to completely ignore him, he doesn't look nearly as angry with him as he was the last time you saw the two of them interact. The sight of it warms your heart, and you allow yourself to lay back and relax a little more.

"You could've gotten yourself killed. What were you thinking, fighting an Upper Moon by yourself!?" Sanemi's voice is gruff, filled with a mix of anger and concern.

Well. One thing’s for sure, he’s still the Sanemi you know.

"How the hell did you even survive this?" he continues, looking you up and down from the missing fingers on your hand to your severely damaged leg, and your overall battered body.

You let out a soft sigh, choosing your words carefully. "It was a close call, but the sunrise saved me. I wouldn't be here if the demon had attacked just ten minutes earlier." you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the gravity of the situation.

Sanemi grunts in response, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your injuries. "You’re damn reckless, you know that? You should've told me this was a solo mission."

"I was just doing my job, Sanemi." you say quietly, your gaze shifting to your crow who's still enjoying headpats. "The village was already in shambles when I got there and half the people hadn't been evacuated. If I hadn’t intervened when I did, more lives would have been lost. Besides, I didn't think it would end like... that."

Sanemi sighs, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Just...dammit, try and be more careful next time," he mutters. "Rengoku’s spot is still vacant, we can’t afford to lose another Pillar."

You smile faintly as you nod, appreciating the unspoken concern behind his words. "Yeah… I know."

"It's safer to go on missions in pairs right now. Those fuckers are getting stronger by the day, and we’ve lost too many promising swordsmen because they were out there alone trying to prove something."

As the room falls into a more comfortable silence, you notice Genya glancing nervously at his brother. He's been dead silent this whole time, not wanting to bother or interrupt. Sanemi’s eyes flicker towards him, a rare softness in his gaze — though it is short-lived.

He rolls his eyes and lets out an annoyed tut before reaching out to briefly ruffle his brother’s hair, calloused hand tousling the mohawk as he turns to leave. You don't miss the soft, almost shy smile that stretches across Genya’s lips, or the way his eyes shine a bit brighter.

Sanemi pauses at the doorway, casting a final look back at the two of you.

"I can't always be around to make sure you two idiots don’t get into more trouble," he mutters, though his tone carries an obvious hint of affection beneath the gruffness. "Watch each other’s backs, and for the love of God don’t do anything reckless." he turns to you. "You, focus on getting better. We’ll handle things until you’re back on your feet."

tags: @alexthecutiepie @oooonie @xcalkenf @lora80808

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Cambiare

Chapter Thirty Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Both bands and crew, Madison, Alice and Max Miller, Cas' brother Jimmy mentioned, Alastair

Word Count: 3241

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes , Kevin is still a shit and we love him for it, fundraiser fluff, first show in Vegas then somebody shows up to ruin Dean's winning streak. SAFE House is a real organization, but all information about them in this fic is fictional, including locations, organizers and fundraiser protocols.

Series Masterlist

The desert sun shined down, even in mid-March, you were grateful for sunglasses as you walked across the parking lot of the furniture store that was hosting the fundraiser. Part of the core principles of SAFE House and organizations like it was its discretion, so nothing that night was taking place near the actual houses where families escaping domestic violence resided. The main office was tucked into a back corner of a row of single story businesses and also a good distance away.

Behind you was the band in ball caps and sunglasses, Bobby and Annie, while Benny, Cesar, Jesse and Chief followed behind. Charlie and the rest of the crew were setting up at the venue for the following nights’ performances. Victor and SPS had other plans for the night before their Vegas debut, but that was understandable. Plus, they sent their support both in person and via social media.

Alice Miller, the Director of Outreach, met you at the registration booth and gave you a bundle of volunteer badges and tickets for the food stands as well as a map of the grounds. 

“We are so grateful for you being here and helping spread the word. We’ve barely been able to get away from the phones since you mentioned the event on the radio this morning. We’re expecting a record breaking year for the carnival.”

Careful to not seem too unsurprised, you downplayed what you expected to be a very busy night. “It’s the least we could do. Now— where did you want the band?”

“Max?” Alice called a younger man over. “Max is my stepson, and he’s in charge of volunteer assignments. While I’ll be around, Max will be able to answer any questions better than I would.”

The guy seemed a little awkward, but he also seemed to at least recognize who he was talking to. “Alright, guys, glad to have you. I have the band assigned two two hour long stints at the Dunk Tank, the Photo Booth, and the Face Painting stand. Your call on if you stick to one station or switch it up. I’ll leave the list with your publicist. Breaks are expected, but please let somebody know when you need one so we can make the swap as seamless as possible. Your team members are welcome to participate, or just stand guard, but please remember we are as low contact as possible with crowd control.”

You had clocked a good chunk of guys you suspected to be plain clothed police officers donning security vests at the next table. You kept your thoughts to yourself on that matter, as long as the families and participants were safe, you were happy.

“Thanks, Max. I gave them the spiel on the ride over. Can we get some group shots with you and the other employees before we get into our stations?”

“Of course, give me ten minutes and we can get everyone together. I’ll give you a walkie, too, just in case. Though we don’t have enough for everyone.”

“Understood.”

You gave him a firm nod and clipped the communicator to your back pocket. He ducked out of the small tent, while you stepped back towards the group you came with, so the line of other volunteers behind you could get signed in. You glanced down the clipboard with the empty blocks of scheduled time at each of the stations. 

Kevin and Dean were on you in an instant.

“Please put me anywhere but the face painting. I can’t draw for shit,” Kevin begged.

“Sam either, don’t do it, Trouble. It will be a mess,” Dean warned.

“Okay, well, Dunk Tank is going to have to be an all or last stint because nobody is going to be able to pose for pictures or do face-painting when they’re soaked to the bone,” you reasoned out loud.

You turned and spoke louder. “Alright, Pam and Annie, let’s have you do the face painting. If nothing else you can just do exaggerated makeup looks.”

“Sounds good to me,” Annie said. While Pam sort of cocked her head and considered if this was the best course of action.

“Lee and Sam are getting the Photobooth first, if you get bored or overwhelmed we’ll swap you guys for the Dunk Tank. But what we really need are hecklers, and I think these two assholes would be best for the job.” You gestured to Dean and Kevin, the two devils over your shoulders.

“You know there are easier ways to see me with my shirt off,” Dean murmured, but didn’t argue with his assignment.

You turned and looked up at him, your reflection shining back at you in his sunglasses, which only made you more defensive. “If I wanted to sell skin, I’d send Sam over there first. But just for that, you’re booked all night. Happy chafing, Dean-o.”

Kevin cackled. “She just pwned you so bad!”

“Shut up, Kevin,” you and Dean said at the same time.

You tried to see if Dean had just been teasing, but your annoyance and curiosity were short lived when Bobby walked up and took the envelope of lanyards out of your grip, and started handing them out.

Somewhere beyond the entrance and registration booths a megaphone sounded, gathering everyone together for the pictures you requested and a quick information session.

The carnival was scheduled from four to nine, hitting the afterschool and afterwork crowds, but still reasonable for a weekday. Even in Vegas, locals had normal schedules most of the time. You took turns with the SAFE House’s media director taking pictures and gesturing people into position. Carefully you had them frame the band, Annie, Alice and the rest of the board in varying shots of size and distance. You should have brought a real camera, but your phone would have to make due for this event. There were over fifty people volunteering in addition to the security team. And every one of them was smiling at you, it was infectious.

It was going to be a good night.

You patrolled the grounds, gathering pictures of the band at their different booths in various poses and levels of embarrassment. Dean was the first one in the water and once he sunk, the crowd went nuts. His line snaked around the Fun House and back towards the Port-o-Potties. 

Kevin had more success heckling Dean than those throwing at his target, but he, too, was drenched before long. It only added to the care-free atmosphere. Even though you knew Dean would have paid a pretty penny to be the one tossing balls in Kevin’s direction himself.

Sam and Lee started off pretty stiff with the Photo Booth, but once a group of preschoolers busted out the feather boas and other accessories, they caved like a house of cards. Neither man could deny kids, especially ones that might have been hurt at some point in their young lives, so they turned up the charm and silliness and had everyone in stitches before they took their dinner break.

Pamela and Annie had the quietest station. It was rather amusing, and a little surreal, that round after round of kids waited in line, picked out their designs, and sat still for the whole process before their parents, guardians, or grandparents recognized Annie Hawkins as the artist behind the butterflies or dragons now at their sides.

Pamela’s entire being screamed rockstar or badass. But as the drummer of the band, she was the least known by name, which never seemed to bother her. No, her confidence was unique in that it was a genuine, god-given, lack of shame. Something you had envied for a long time. So when only a handful of people asked for her picture along with her creations, she didn’t bat an eye. She just winked at the kids as they went about their nights and waved.

By nightfall, the crowd had reached capacity. The sounds of the various rides and games were constant and the bright lights kept the area surveyable. However, the temperature started to drop and the Dunk Tanks themselves weren’t well lit, which equated to Kevin and Dean’s station beginning to lose some of its luster. 

“Okay! Let’s see what you got! Come on folks— this is for a great cause!” Kevin spouted.

“Freezing my nuts off of here! Hey big guy, think you could dunk me?”

You stage whispered, “this is a family event— keep your flirting to your own time!”

“Har-har!” Dean mock laughed.

You took another picture, but your flash really wasn’t the best with the Fun House lights offsetting it. Dean was dunked again and you asked Max over the walkie if you could end the line. It was a little after eight at night and between the cooler night air and the remaining people waiting, they deserved to see the finish line. 

After a few seconds, you got permission to send Benny and Jesse to curtail new customers, “yeah, okay. We’ll start closing up those stations first, ease out of the night.”

You texted Bobby to start warming up the bus before making your way through the crowd to let the rest of the team know to wrap it up. Sam and Lee actually were already closed up, their tent had been packed up and they just sat sipping on flat beer from the one kiosk with a liquor license. Annie and Pamela had turned into more of a selfie and autograph booth then a face painting stand, but no one seemed to mind. 

“We’ve got the all clear, meet at the bus in ten,” you let them know. Casually, you headed back to the Dunk Tanks to ensure the soggy bottom boys weren’t mobbed once they were back on solid ground.

Cesar, brilliant man that he was, showed up with a pair of fleece blankets from the bus just as the final set of balls were handed to Benny and Jesse. You grinned at him in gratitude, but had to film the final dunks for prosperity’s sake. 

“Come on Benny! Let ‘im have it!” you bellowed as the head roadie wound up.

Jesse immediately sent Kevin into the depths, forfeiting the remaining two throws, and letting his husband help the smaller man off the platform and into a blanket.

Benny missed the first two balls, which Dean was not going to let him live it down. “Oh, he’s on the ropes! Look he’s not gonna make it, I should just climb down. That blanket is a-calling to me!”

“Just shut your trap, will ya?” Benny muttered.

“Make me, big boy!”

“Does he always flirt when he’s nervous?” you asked, knowing full well it was being recorded.

“Nah, darlin’. He’s showboating. He only flirts like this to make up for something.”

“Oh yeah? What am I making up for Benny? Cuz your aim is the only thing lacking here!”

With movie magic precision, Benny sank Dean on his last throw. The remaining crowd erupted and you scanned the area before sneaking closer to get Dean’s grumpy face as he crawled out of the tank and down the ladder.

“About time!” He called over his shoulder before Cesar could wrap him up too. Crouched over and shivering, Dean grinned for the camera before you hit the stop button on the video. Everyone laughed and joked while Dean and Kevin tried to dry off. After gathering their hats, phones, wallets, and socks and shoes, everyone left for the parking lot and the bus back to the Strip and the hotel.

You stopped at the entrance, dropped off the walkie talkie and your lanyards with Max’s crew. You made your way across the parking lot to the corner that Bobby had claimed for the bus, turning on your notifications for the first time all night. It was going to be a long night of scrolling and posting, but it was a good kind of busy to be.

The bass pulsed through the amps and across the floor, like an omniscient earthquake. You felt the heat from the stage effects across your skin. Pamela was taking the end of A Reaper’s Offering and taking over for her solo. The lights dimmed along the edge of the stage and everything focused on her. You felt the buzz of an incoming message on your hip from the walkie, but you couldn’t hear a single word.

“There she goes!” Dean rumbled somewhere amongst the shadows. The crowd responded then hushed itself just as quickly, awe-inspired.

Charlie has so much more at her disposal in this set up and she used everything she could to empathize the epicness of Pamela’s prowess, each drum was focused by its own color light. Pamela kept Charlie on her toes as she hopped from one to another, sometimes hitting three or four at a time. It was mesmerizing.

Your voice was hoarse already and still you screamed as she ramped it up to the big finale. Even in the wing off stage, you couldn’t hear yourself over the racing beat.

Lee whistled with two fingers in his mouth, shrill and celebratory. And still Pamela rocked on.

Sam slid down his E string, pulsing beneath her. You noticed how the others drifted back into position, four more measures and Kevin joined in. As the notes blended together Pamela pulled back, like a band of horses behind well-worn reins. 

“Lead the way, Pammy!” Dean broke the spell and Pamela thumped into a familiar opening.

They weren’t stopping and slowing down for Vegas. ‘Abandon All Hope’ was left out of the first night’s setlist and the suggestive ‘Twigs and Twine’ swapped in instead. If you had to bet, ‘Brother’s Keeper’ wasn’t going to be featured either. And you were right, instead they played ‘Give Me My Ax’ for Lee to completely annihilate.

Charlie dropped the lights on them as Dean finished ‘Not Mine’ and the crowd did not stop for a full five minutes. You felt like you were tethered to a comet, soaring and burning alongside those brighter than you could ever hope to be.

The encores flew by and SPS joined them on stage, bowing and waving and blowing kisses to the insatiable masses. You knew the venue had photographers in the pit and along the box seats, but you couldn’t wait to get your hands on some fan shots. This was a show banners and websites were made of, raw and glistening.

Everyone descended the stage and flooded the wing you were occupying. The moment Dean’s eyes caught yours, his entire face changed and you both went to each other. Unthinking, two magnets across the mess of stagehands and band members just as he bent down to grab you into a hug, you hesitated, feeling unseen eyes in the upper levels.

You grabbed his elbow and drew him in further into the belly of backstage.

“What’s up?” Dean’s face was worried now.

“Nothing, just didn’t want somebody to see us.”

Dean’s brow pinched and he sighed, but stayed at your side. “How was it? Have fun?!”

You rolled your eyes. “I think I’m as sweaty as you are!”

“Well, I’m gonna hit the dressing room. If you need a shirt, I’ve got extra. Because there’s no way we’re stopping soon. Those high rollers ain’t seen nothing like the Winchesters in a hot minute.”

“Fine! But I’m capping you at 50k for the night, young man. Somebody has got to rein you in, especially since Jimmy isn’t on retainer anymore.”

“Ugh! Well, we’ll see about that.” Dean winked and threw his arm over your shoulder and walked you both to the pandemonium that was the dressing room.

You were very careful while out with the band to stay on the vertical side of inebriation. It was equal parts fear of embarrassing yourself and fear of losing control of one or more of the band. After Dean and Cas’ explosion in Chicago last spring, you rarely mixed substances, especially while somewhere as heavily monitored as Vegas.

A little No Doz and a side of vodka and tonic would carry you most of the night. If nothing got too crazy. Eventually, you’d snag a cigarette, but casino-hopping would have to wait. Dean was on a roll, literally.

Dice in theory was an easy game. The tables with all the Pass and Don’t Pass bet bullshit made Craps hard for you to follow, especially when you were too busy keeping an eye on everyone. Madison and Sam were getting handsy at a Blackjack Table. Pam had found her machine for the night and was racking up a nice total with just penny slots. While taking shots of whiskey in stunning regularity.

Lee and Dean were both rolling dice, but the tables faced the opposite direction and you were almost certain one or both of them were trying to hustle somebody. The house always won, but sometimes people got cocky and they thought these cornfed boys from Nebraska were easy prey. It was fun to watch.

If nerve wracking.

Dean’s eyes danced over his dice, everyone gathered held their breath as the dealer called out the victory. Dean jumped up, punched the air, and crowed with abandon. He was untouchable in his brilliance. It made something inside you shiver. Sometimes you forgot he was real.

“Alright, time to head out!” Dean decided, gathering his chips and heading to the teller line to cash out. You nodded to the rest of the band, with an annoyed eye roll from Pamela, but everyone followed suit. Benny and the Chief had drawn straws for that night’s detail, which meant Jesse and Cesar would have your backs the following night. It still felt weird to be Tiny and Bela-less, but it was also one less thing for you to keep track of.

The crowds outside of Cesar’s Palace were full of tourists as you stepped back out onto the strip. A rush of waiting photographers gravitated to your group the second Sam’s head cleared the exit. Fucking Sasquatch was too easy to spot.

“Guys! Fantastic show tonight!”

“Dean! Dean! Where’s Bela? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, huh?”

“Pamela! Lee! Are you guys back together? Will we see another Vegas wedding from you two?”

“Sam! Who’s the lucky lady?”

Everyone ignored them the best you could, keeping your heads down and letting Benny hold them off.

“There he is! The coward has returned!” A nasally voice made its way through the chaos and Dean stopped in his tracks. You dropped back and tried to drag him forward, while ignoring the jeers from the other paps. 

“That’s a good girl, follow your mommy. Don’t want to get left behind,” the voice said senselessly.

“Dean?” you said, nerves dialed up to eleven.

Dean shook his head and scanned the crowd until he spotted a cameraless, beady-eyed face. “Benny! Keep that fucker away from us,” Dean yelled as he about-faced and took the group in a different direction. Benny fell back and stepped up to the taller creep, clearly making a point of starting a conversation as the other paps scrambled to keep up with you.

Dean dragged you and Pam by the wrists, keeping you at his sides until he decided you were in the clear outside the next stop. You had no idea who that guy was. After twenty minutes, Benny finally caught up with you guys and something in his eyes told you it wasn’t over.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

Chapter 36: Acciaccato

[deeznutzzzz24]

Little Red Riding Hood

Chapter Two: An Uninvited Guest

Summary: Living a life of caution for as long as she can remember, Y/N has never stayed too long in one place, always moving from town to town in hopes to hide her identity. With the Hunters Moon coming, she knows she must be extra careful, as the local culture resides heavily in the hunting of her kind. One night, when a cloaked figure unveils her secret and narrowly escapes, Y/N finds herself in a desperate situation: kill or be killed. With no face to go by, she must now search through the townsfolk before the stranger can spread the truth about her. But the task proves more than difficult when she realises her only lead is a long, crimson cloak.

Genre: horror, fantasy, little red riding hood retelling

Warnings: cursing, stalking, death, heavy smut (later included)

Pairing: redridinghood!Jungwon x femwolf! reader

chapter one here

chapter three here

chapter four here

Midnight air slips through the town square. The small clearing in front of the monastery lays bare, except for a small crow perched above its tallest wing, scrutinising my every move. The townspeople must be sound asleep in their warm beds. It’d be well past midnight by now, seeing as the way the moon slowly sinks across the stars. I glance to the midnight sky, cursing the way its constellations align so perfectly.

God is taunting me on this night.

He too, has seen my sin.

Perhaps he’s seen all along, and has only chosen tonight as the opportune time to tell me. Observing the empty courtyard to my left, I squint at the quiet townhouses in the distance. No red cloaks hurry through the footpaths.

The fool thinks he can hide from me.

The crow hawks a loud farewell and launches into the midnight sky. I hear it wishing me well as it passes. Smiling, I recount all the times they’ve watched on as I’ve killed the innocent. All creatures of the forest have an equal fealty to werewolves. Even birds know there are loyalties that must never be crossed.

Casting a subtle glance back to the monastery, I watch in silence as the town pastor gently closes the gates.

Shit.

Hearing him approach, I suck in an awkward breath and turn to retreat. His presence will only serve as a distraction.

He hurries forward and touches a gentle hand to my shoulder before I can turn away. “Y/N! I’ve been looking for you!”

Taking in a brief moment of freedom, I release a subtle sigh and turn to face my guest.

Pastor Mikaul has aged fairly since the last time I had seen him. His eyes droop with age, waning on the edge of exhaustion with chunks of hair that seemed to stick to his forehead like a mop.

In Mikeals mind, God was the greatest diety of all, giving sanctuary and hope to all those who send him their precious prayer.

I tilt my head to the side, observing the stern callouses that paint his palms. Some god indeed, stripping his faithful of freedom and leaving them to wander around a chapel all day like mindless fools. Blinded by their faith, High Priests in Avion spend their days locked up without a morsel of food or sunlight. They believe praying is the only thing they need to survive. I suppose it’s silly of me to judge, considering I’ve spent most of my life adapting to the shadows and living by the rules of the forest.

Pastor Mikeal makes an awkward cough as he takes his hand from my shoulder.

Cringing, I watch him shift closer, giving me a stern expression of disapproval. “The Council and I have been wondering why you haven’t been showing up to Church for our Sunday services.” He nearly whispers as he mentions the Council, pointing narrow glances to every corner of the courtyard before proceeding, “I understand your aunt is gravely ill, but perhaps praying for her good health will do better than neglecting your religious duties. You don’t want to break the Council’s trust now do you my dear?” Just as before, the old cripple goes into a hushed tone when mentioning the Council.

I suppress a smile.

Even the pastor fears them.

Under the guise of hiding a sob, I give each eye a firm pinch and wait impatiently for the tears to fall. I spend the next 10 minutes explaining my absences from church, and my dear aunts depleting health that seems to worsen each day. Waving my arms around on occasion, I weave a delicate tale of a hidden antidote, a difficult journey through the Northern treks of Rangaar, and a kind young woman trying to save her only living relative. In this story, and only in this story, I am the kind young woman. I finish my appeal with a long sob and a heartfelt apology thrown in for for his pride.

I watch through the corner of my eye as he stares uncertainly at the ground, catching the way his eyes twist in discomfort.

I’ve been a cold bitch to the him since the day Helena and I arrived in Avion. He wasn’t expecting this heartfelt reaction.

“My dear girl, if it troubles you so, let’s leave it be as it is for now…” he murmurs, briefly hesitating before giving my back a comforting pat.

I force myself into a stuttering mess. “B-but the Council will still be angry-”

“Don’t you worry about them, I’ll let the Council know of your impending troubles.” Giving me a reassuring pat on the back, he sets off in the opposite direction, leaving me to stand alone in the cold. I feel the sad expression on my face wear thin, moulding into the familiar uniformity of a nothingness.

In twelve days, when the winter solstice has begun, he will die. As will most in this town. Nothing has changed.

Our plans are still set, no matter how delayed.

I watch his figure morph into emptiness, chanting the promise once more in my mind.

They’re all going to die.

I turn to continue my hunt, finding myself pushing for any emotion, any small sign of sympathy, but all I feel is my heart sink at the knowledge that it’ll never hold more power over me than my head.

___

The South side of the forest could easily be considered the joyous reflection of the North. Complete opposites in every way.

Ever since Helena and I arrived in Avion, we’ve spent every spare hunting day covering the grounds of the North and West sides of the woods, using their confines of dark solidarity to our advantage while we hunted in secret.

The only few times I’ve needed to cross into the South was to visit Mary, who lives in a comfortable little cottage on the other side of town.

Leaves crunch beneath my feet with weary pace, leaving me to wonder if someone is actually watching me from afar or if it’s just my paranoia. I shake my head, pulling my lavender dress up to avoid a muddy branch in my path. Mary always fusses over my dresses, warning me not to get them dirty or she’ll be forced to do the one thing I hate most; make more of them. While Helena also pushes the importance of dresses as it eases the process of ‘blending in’ with the townsfolk, I’ve never been particularly fond of the discomfort a gown can bring me. Avion may be a quaint and colourful paradise in Summer and Spring, but in Winter the waters soak down through the small winded mud puddles, making it nearly impossible for any young woman to trek through the forest paths. How most Avion women bear the irritation that comes with wearing sun dresses and gowns everywhere they go, I’ll never know. Upholding the social standards of others has never been a concern of mine. Not with my situation.

I look ahead to the narrow stone path closing in, knowing I must be close. Mary usually insists I bring a map of Avion before setting off on my journey to her cottage, as the both of us know it’s not the easiest little place to find. Little does she know, I have a knack for finding people.

The crunch of leaves beneath my boots gradually soften, signalling I’m close. Mary’s cottage is situated in the centre of the most beautiful part of the forest, where the leaves in her garden shine with delicate care as though they’re watered everyday. Knowing Mary, they probably are. Small slivers of sunlight catch a small cottage coming up to my left. Hues of pink and green hover in small spaces of light above the roof. It’s almost as though Mary’s cottage is where the fairies come to congregate. That wouldn’t surprise me, honestly. I can already picture Mary welcoming them with her cinnamon cocoa and warm smile. Unlike the rest of the townsfolk, Mary has a pure heart filled with patience and compassion for the magical elements. Creatures of myth have never scared her, but that’s only because she’s never met a creature of dark magic.

She wouldn’t accept me, and as much as my affection for her stands firm, I certainly wouldn’t expect her to.

The smell of warm chocolate and pastry fills the air as I approach, pushing all thoughts of acceptance aside. Mary usually waits out the front for my arrival, fussing with my coat and boots so that I can enter comfortably, but today, she’s nowhere in sight. Making my way past the small porch steps, I take off my shoes and go to place them neatly by the door, stopping abruptly when I hear voices coming from inside. She must have a visitor. I glance to the small shoe rack by my side, searching for any shoes that mightn’t belong to Mary. I don’t see any.

Strange.

She hates it when people don’t take their shoes off before entering. Pressing my ear to the door, I listen in silence as I hear Mary’s voice accompanied by that of a males. Before I can catch what they’re saying I hear a loud crash followed by a scream.

Mary.

This was no visitor,

but rather an uninvited guest.

_____________________________________________

Authors Note:

Sheesh that took me forever haha, sorry to everyone who’s been waiting. I’m really going to try and punch out another chapter this week cause I’m getting too invested in my own story LMAO.

No fr, send help💀

Anyway hoes comment in the comment section if you want to be added to the taglist (for those that haven’t already asked)

Taglist: @ramenoil @moonmoongi

[dissociacrip]

this turned into a long adhd rant whoopsie

it really does suck how people seem to downplay autism and adhd now lol. autism has been reduced to people who can mask and have low support needs and adhd hasn't really changed from its status as a joke.

i don't talk about adhd much but it probably gets in the way of me being able to function just as much, if not more than autism does (in my personal situation) when it comes to mental disability. not showering enough. not cooking. not cleaning my living space properly. forgetting to brush my teeth. dishes sitting in the sink for so long they start getting moldy. only being able to maybe do 1-3 tasks a day maximum because my brain can't organize itself enough to do more than that. difficulty committing to things and being consistent in overarching ways. being late to things a lot. highly impaired verbal recall so i forget things people say to me, forget verbal instructions, etc. on top of the other acutely stressful situations that come with memory and regulating my attention span (e.g. locking my keys in my car or locking myself out of my house when i have a very limited support network to remediate those situations.)

my meds barely touch this stuff for me and i'm not especially inclined to increase the dosage after bordering on psychosis when i was taking 40mg of vyvanse. i've just become so accustomed to living the way that i do (because my case is pretty bad afaik) so i can't just will myself to be another way. any efforts i make to change or be more organized and routine and consistent end up getting dashed away because i just cannot do it lol. my shit just doesn't work. adhd is a massive barrier between me and being a functioning person or being able to take care of myself. i'm pretty sure would still be a "gross" and unpalatable disabled person even if my muscles worked and i didn't have POTS/etc. that also get in the way of my hygiene and the cleanliness of my living space.

that doesn't even go into how other people react to it. a good chunk of physical and verbal abuse i faced from my family as a child was related to my adhd symptoms. i was diagnosed at a young age but my parents "forgot" it happened and it was never addressed otherwise. i got constantly called disgusting for my hygiene problems and was threatened with violence over it (on top of the times where i was actually getting assaulted.) people take my impaired verbal recall and lack of impulse control irt accidentally cutting people off or interrupting them personally, accusing me of not caring enough when it's something that is extremely difficult to be aware of or manage when adhd is a condition that distinctly involves impaired awareness of your own behavior.

so when i see shit like "just set alarms" or anything else that amounts to "you're not trying hard enough" or adhd not very much being a disability, especially when it's coming from other people w/ adhd, it kinda makes me wanna stab things with knives.

sure, it's not the worst condition ever, but just like most other disabilities, the way it affects everyone who is it is different and some are gonna be able to manage it better than others. sure, there a lot of really fucking annoying people (usually able-bodied) w/ adhd on social media that have large platforms and who very often profit from or encourage liberal pop psych bullshit when it comes to adhd, but it's still very much a disability. it can affect hygiene. it can affect employment or otherwise means of earning an income. it can affect our social lives and whether we have a support system. it can affect whether someone can keep their house from getting infested with bugs or mold. it is very much something that causes dysfunction in ways that aren't nearly as cutesy as the little comics you might see on instagram are drawn.

just remember that.

[blackbloodteeth]

Something fell from the sky that night, shook the earth far from where it landed. He could feel it before he saw it, parted the curtain from the window to watch a flash light up above the storm, a star falling some distance from his quiet cabin. He felt it so closely in his chest that he just had to go out to find it, out into the billowing snow and freezing whirl of nature's untameable whims.

A hand kept his scarves pressed firmly against his laboured breaths while the other held tight to his lantern. Snow, deeply burying the mountainside, slowed his steps but he trekked onward to where he remembers the heavens parting. If anything, he always had a good sense of direction.

Eventually the dim glow of the flame's light cast itself on a disturbance in the snow, sunken around a small boulder that he threw himself onto. His gloves tore into the storm trying to claim it, pulling apart chunks of meteorite that crumbled away like feathers, and soon enough the lantern reflected from a dull gold blanketing the inside: Deep within, a woman. Bare. Nothing, save for the sleeping face of an angel.

This is how he knew the above was cruel, abandoning her here all by herself.

He pauses for not even a moment before hastily setting the lantern aside, forcing off the outermost coat from himself and swaddling her in it, carefully, yet hurriedly, picking her up and taking the lantern again as he stands back up, trudging homeward with this fallen star in tow. It isn't before long that he pushes them past the door and brings her to a freshly renewed fire, gifting her all the deserved rest he can offer from its warmth as the storm rages onwards.

Thankfully, she awakens just in time for supper to finish being prepared. There's a curiosity beneath the layer of frost set in her face – yet her eyes were greener than you can ever imagine here, like gemstones that lure in the wicked and greedy while rewarding those who never deemed fit to take them in the first place. She didn't speak for a long while, not that he particularly expected her to, but he told her that he went by Soul as he offered her a piping hot bowl of stew.

Like many before her, she hesitated until she got a taste of his rich, hearty recipe of tender meats and perfectly cooked vegetables to eagerly devour her bowlful and second helping. It'd been a long time since he'd smiled like this.

"…Soul." Of course she finally did speak, less a voice of a bird of paradise and more a scholar of thought. "You brought me in from the cold?"

"I did," he replies before taking another bite.

"…Why?"

His spoon stirs the broth around gently as he ponders this, for only just a moment. "Just felt like the right thing to do. No use freezin' out there for no one."

"What you say and what you mean doesn't sound the same."

Soul doesn't have to face her to hear the way it furrows her eyebrows at him, and well, maybe there was some truth ringing into that little smile of his. "After you wear a mask for so long, it gets hard to remember what your own face looks like."

For the rest of the storm he kept her company. Told her all the tales he knew, like how there once was a shepherd who wore the skin of a wolf to find where all the other wolves gathered, and when he joined their plot to wear the skin of a sheep that night, his own family ate him for supper none the wiser. By the dawn of sunrise when the storm finally broke, he'd dozed off more than a couple times haunted by these visions.

The chill in the air was present as it was refreshing. Soul loaned her some spare garments to keep her warm, fully ready to see her off at the greeting of sunrise over the shimmer of snow before she turned to face him again, that stony layer of curiosity returned with a small lantern's flame.

"You seem lonely."

Breath from his sigh plumes up from the restless corners of his mouth. "Have been my whole life. One day I just decided to make it a choice."

"If you could choose again, would you decide that now," she asks.

He looks out at the windless sparkling of sunrise already starting to reach its way to his quiet cabin, not yet blinding but still a sight to behold as not even his trail nor the storm had been left behind in the calm of morning after. Another plume of breath slips away from him when he gazes upon the shining green still watching him. "I won't choose to stop you if you decide to stay here."

[mahi-does-some-art]

Sloth/Mahiru 👀

One of my favorite ships ever :3

I feel silly so you can get little chunk of the fic. As a treat. No smut tho, that'll be for Ao3.

----

It had only been a normal day. Busy, yes, but normal. Running errands, tidying up the house and putting the laundry up to dry. He’d even gotten to the store in time for a few good sales all while Kuro was either on his head or lazing on the couch with a game in hand. There was nothing that could have warned him– He had only been trying to figure out what Kuro wanted for dinner. Walking over to the couch in the dim warm atmospheric lighting Kuro had ordered to bathe their plain apartment in, leaning over the top of the couch to peer at him.

He had only asked a simple question no different from anything he’d say any other day. But when Kuro had looked up at him to answer, something stopped him, his mouth just barely hanging open to make some strange sound. The light in his eyes glazed over in an instant and it felt like he barely had time to blink before a smile too big engulfs his face and his body drips and changes as he sits up.

And lunged.

His Servamp’s body was no longer his own and its host was laid to sleep in some unseen darkness, made unaware of anything Sloth may do. Unable to awaken on his own Kuro was dragged into the deafening depths of the demon’s head and Mahiru was left defenseless and for the taking. It’s surprising the Eve hadn’t gone insane. Seeing your partner’s body being taken control over and morph into something else that wanted to suck you in and devour you. If he weren’t so familiar, or perhaps if he were just anyone else, he would have lost his mind and person a long time ago.

The last thing he remembers before he got taken was the sight of that normally lazy body contorting. The feeling of clawed hands brushing against his skin and pulling him in and the feeling of something warm and plush pressed against his lips. He comes to tight in the embrace of his demon with their lips still locked together and a tongue pushing past his teeth, wading above the pitch black ground of his domain.

He really needs to set some more ground rules for these impromptu visits.

----

Mahiru's not going to be able to sit down properly in the morning, let alone be able to walk or stress about cleaning an already spotless house or running around town doing things for other people. Which is exactly what Sloth wanted! :D

[stevenblueniverse]

Bellow selkie au Chapter 4 (finally its here! I'm so sorry about the break I had to take!)

Chapter 4 the human family

"I saw some seals by the shore, it reminded me of the selkies you'd tell me stories about when I was young", was the only thing written in yellow's most recent letter regarding her recent experience with the selkie, she felt so guilty about the whole thing, again she had scared the poor selkie away, now she barely left her hotel, just waiting for her ship to return and finally leave this place that made her feel nothing but guilt for what she had done.

Yellow looked over to the most recent letter from her mother, laying on a table next to the bed, it was unopened and barely touched. She shuffled to the other side of the bed and grabbed it from the table it lay on, clumsily ripping apart the envelope, leaving small chunks of paper on her bed and nearly ripping the letter inside.

The contents of the letter didn't suprise yellow, 90% of it was dedicated to selkies, saying yellow must've seen them and how they're known for their beauty, she even wrote of her own "experiences" with them and how she believed yellow seeing them meant something "very special" and will bring good or bad luck that will "show itself very soon". This time, yellow didn't take this letter as the regular nonsense and folklore her mother constantly went on about, instead it made her remember those two nights when she saw the selkie, it gave her determination to maybe see her or at least another one again, and definitely not make the mistake she did before.

Yellow threw on her long black coat and knee high boots and quickly rushed out her hotel. She forgot how hot it was out there, as soon as she stepped out the bright sun shone directly into her eyes, she lifted her hand in the air to cover the sun and tried to walk out of its blinding light and into some shade, she'd been all over the world but the weather here had been the most unbearable for her. As she passed the beach where she saw the selkie, yellow saw something that caught her off guard

On the beach was three people, a very tall woman in a white dress with long, curled hair that was almost a pink-ish colour, She was holding the hand of a small boy standing next to her, he had dark brown curly hair and looked about 8 years old, he was wearing a red t shirt and jeans, he was looking around and didnt seemed to be interested in what the other two people where doing, the third person there was what caught yellow's attention, it was the selkie she saw! And she seemed to be talking to this woman and her child!?

Yellow slowly approached them, so many questions forming in her mind, "could this woman be a selkie? She doesn't have a coat? Maybe the sister the selkie spoke about is her?", soon yellow got too distracted in her thoughts and tripped over the hill, landing not far from them, she wasn't hurt but it was embarrassing. Yellow got up and wiped the sand off her clothes, trying to act like nothing had happened, she could see the selkie was now looking at her, the pink haired woman waved her hand in front of the selkie to get her attention again and they resumed to talking, the young boy was also now looking at her, her cover had been blown, now she didn't know what to do.

"Rose, who is this?", a male voice said from above the hill leading to the beach, the man who the voice belonged too soon jumped down to the beach and approached them, he had long dark brown hair, and a beard, he seemed much older than the two women, yellow looked away and started writing her letter, trying to make it look like she wasn't watching, but also keeping close enough to listen in to the conversation. "Oh...she is...", rose, the pink haired one, studdered, holding her son's hand tighter, the selkie nervously started to step away into the ocean, yellow could tell she was scared of whoever this man was.

"Have you been lamenting by the sea again?", her sarcastically asked, giving rose a smirk, she bowed her head and looked to the ground, "...yes", she replied defeated, "well that won't get you anywhere, you aren't a part of that lifestyle anymore", he continued, looking up and down at the selkie with a disgusted expression, "and plus", he grabbed Rose's son away from her, "you have me and steven to care about now, so don't waste your time crying over your past", he dragged his son, steven up the hill and went back to the two of them, rose looked back at the selkie, quiely apologised then made her way up the hill to her son. "You there!", he called to the selkie, making her flinch, "what makes you think you things are still allowed around my wife!", he yelled, trying to grab her by the coat, she jumped back into the ocean, ready to flee, until....

"HEY!", yellow called, rushing inbetween them and smacking away his hand from her coat, "what are you doing!? Yelling at my friend like that!", the man looked back at the selkie, then back to yellow and raised an eyebrow, "your friend?", he asked, "yeah my friend! We where planning to meet up here and I find you yelling at her! Leave or ill make you!", the man gave up after that, he turned around and made his way up the hill saying, "fine, go spend your time with that creature, I don't care".

"Y-you helped me?? But why!?", the selkie asked, yellow turned around and gave her a friendly smile, "I saw he was being threatening to you, I couldn't just watch that happen," yellow looked down and saw she was still holding tightly onto her coat and shaking, "I'm very sorry about what happened last time, please can we talk?", she asked, the selkie nodded, "we can..thank you", she said, going to sit down on the beach, looking around to see if the man had truly gone.

[purplecatghostposts]

ANY HURT/COMFORT FOR BRIAN

AYE AYE CAPTAIN!

I’ve always wanted to do an alternative version of Entry 80 so this is my excuse to do it >:)

Content Warnings for: Canon Typical Behavior, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Non-graphic Injuries, Blood-loss Induced Delirium, Hurt/Comfort (of course), and Angst With A Happy Ending (Or at the very least a heavily implied one).

Word Count: Roughly 2.6k

— —

Everything is spiraling out of control. Brian knows that a good chunk of it is his fault. He brought Alex here and could not find the will to kill him, even after all this time. He asked Jay and Tim to come here and now Alex is loose and all of them are in danger.

It lurks around every corner, within every shadow, and Brian isn't safe from it's reach anymore. It's stronger, it feeds off this situation, warping reality to its whims, and it intends for most of them, if not all, to die here. And it very well may succeed.

It’s been haunting Brian the most lately. When it finally leaves Alex’s side, it shadows him, pulling him in all directions and warping him to other planes of existence entirely.

The Ark awaits. It wishes to swallow him whole.

Brian wonders if it’s not a matter of if he will end up there, but rather when. Nonetheless, he fights to escape it, to keep it all together, but deep down, it feels inevitable. Hopeless. Like Brian can no longer control any of their fates, much less his own. He should have killed Alex when he had the chance but even now, even with this bastardization version of him who spits curses and bears his teeth at him, he cannot find it in him to pull the trigger.

Brian remembers—

(“And that’s a wrap!” Alex lowered the camera when the red light stopped blinking. He was sweating a little from the heat, the sun beating down on them relentlessly, but his grin doesn’t waver and the pride in his eyes is genuine. “That was fantastic, Brian! Seriously, if you ever wanted to get into acting, you could pull it off.”

Brian laughed then, rolling his eyes a little. “You’re just saying that— I know I sound cheesy.”

“You’re just following the script.” Alex waved him off. “I’m being serious! You could make it if you really wanted to! Plus,” Alex nudged him playfully, “You’re good looks are a bonus.”

“More flattery, Kralie?”

“I speak only the truth, Thomas.”)

—and he really wishes he could forget. The past doesn’t matter when he’s trying to salvage the present. And yet, it still haunts him, ever present and reminding him of the days he will never get back and the person he can and will never be again.

He has had so many chances to kill Alex Kralie, and the fact that he has been unable to go through with any of them will always haunt him.

Brian stumbles through the rooms of Benedict Hall, static receding from his mind as it finally leaves him alone. He doesn’t know if it’s giving up or merely choosing an easier target but it’s difficult to think about anything but finally getting a moment to rest. He staggers into one of the rooms in the basement, just barely remembering to close the door before he slumps against the wall and feels unconsciousness pull him under.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been running, nor how long he rests for. What he does know is that when he awakens again, there are footsteps nearby and he tenses on instinct.

Brian waits a few beats before managing to get up, unsteady on his feet but pressing forward. He opens the door just a crack to look out at who has joined him and lets out a small huff when he sees it’s just Jay. Someone he can handle— at worst, he might need to get him to back off, but Brian will burn that bridge when it comes.

Jay doesn’t seem to notice him, too busy looking through the rooms and not quite getting to his yet. However, he also doesn’t notice when silent footsteps descend the stairs into the basement, and Brian’s breath hitches when he sees Alex standing at the bottom of the stairs with a gun in his hand.

When Jay does notice, he freezes. Camera in hand, he stares at him and lets out a cautious and almost disbelieving, “Alex?”

Alex raises his gun.

Brian knows his role has always been to stay in the shadows, be cold and calculating, always one step ahead and always doing what is necessary in order to ensure the survival of who is left. He knows that he is the man with the plan, the haunting wraith, and the one who has to maintain control above all else. He knows.

But Alex raises his gun and Jay is just standing there like a deer in headlights and Brian can no longer think.

He acts.

The door is yanked open and Brian throws himself at Jay in an effort to get him out of the way. He succeeds on that front, but the gun still goes off and pain rips through his shoulder and suddenly, they’re both on the ground. Jay scrambles to get Brian off of him, panicked and attempting to ask questions that Brian can’t really hear. Alex is yelling now but Brian can’t tell what he’s saying either.

He just knows one minute, he’s lying on the ground, trembling and unsure if he has the strength to get up again, and the next, there’s hands wrapping around one of his wrists and yanking him somewhere else. Either he’s light or Jay is tapping into some hysterical strength, or a mix of both, because another shot just barely misses him and suddenly, he’s in another room with Jay using his entire body weight to keep the door closed. There’s pounding on the door, more yelling from Alex, and a camera is discarded on the floor.

Brian struggles to keep his consciousness. Everything passes by in a blur and when static rises to his mind, he isn’t terribly surprised. His body goes involuntarily limp, eyes struggling to open at all, and he can feel invisible tendrils beginning to curl around him, claiming him as theirs.

The Ark awaits. They whisper. The Ark has been waiting for you, Brian Thomas. You cannot deny it any longer.

All fight in him starts to drain away. Static builds, numbing him to the point where Brian thinks he’s gone for a moment there.

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him but getting more frantic. Brian lets out a shudder, feeling something tugging him back and urging him not to leave yet. That his work is not finished, that he cannot go into the Ark and feed it, and that he is not the Ark’s to claim.

Someone else has claimed him, needs him, and is not letting it take him. The invisible tendrils (were they ever really there to begin with?) recede, and Brian feels the familiar feeling of being warped somewhere else but the grip on his shoulder only tightens. A cool breeze passes over him, and it is welcomed.

When he falls into unconsciousness, it is with the knowledge that it has not taken him yet, and that he can rest easy for now. The uncertainty of where he is now and what comes next falls away, and it is a problem for when he wakes up.

—

Consciousness is a hazy thing when he returns. At first, Brian feels nothing at all, but the moment he stirs, pain shoots through his shoulder and he lets out a low and pained hiss.

Ragged breaths escape him. His skin feels cold and clammy and when he cracks open his eyes, his surroundings are blurry. Sunlight hits his face and blinds him, but he can’t move without aggravating his shoulder so he just squints and tries to put his thoughts together. Nothing quite makes sense but the greenery around him tells him he’s outside, though something about what he’s seeing is off. He can’t quite put his finger on it however.

A blurry shape moves closer to him. Brian stiffens, ready for a fight but their hands(?) are raised as if to try and convince him they’re not a threat. It confuses him slightly— definitely not Alex then— and his gaze doesn’t waver from them as they inch closer.

Slowly, a hand is pressed against his forehead as if checking his temperature. Something in him crumbles at the contact and hazily, he leans into it, causing them to freeze for a minute but steadily relaxing.

Something is off but he can’t quite place what.

“Hey uh— can you hear me?” A hesitant voice asks. Brian knows that voice. He blinks lazily, racking his brain for the answer before it hits him.

“Jay?” He manages to slur out. It’s rough on his throat to speak but it almost feels nice to speak at all. To be heard by someone for once.

Jay’s breath hitches a little. “Uh, yeah. It’s me.” He’s awkward and tense. Brian can’t remember why. He can’t really remember why Jay is here at all but his hand moves to keep a steady hand on his uninjured shoulder and it keeps him from drifting. That’s enough for now.

There’s a long pause before Jay hesitantly asks, “Brian? Brian Thomas? It’s you, right?” Like he can’t quite believe it.

Brian blinks a few times at that. It’s been a while since anyone called him that. He can’t remember how long. “Mmhmm.” He hums after a beat. There had been a reason he was hiding his identity at first but he really can’t remember it. Maybe he should stop worrying about what he can and can’t remember. “How’d you know?” He finds himself asking.

“I mean, your face is kinda a dead giveaway?”

Brian pauses at that. Then slowly raises one hand to brush against his face. It finally clicks then, what’s wrong. The cool breeze against his skin, the skin to skin contact, the ability to see clearly without anything blocking his vision— his mask. It’s gone. Jay probably took it off.

That’s probably a problem. Brian is struggling to care right now though.

“Huh.” He says instead. “Guess Brian is out of the bag.” A snicker escapes him at his own joke and he tilts into Jay’s grip more than he intends to.

“Shit.” Jay swears under his breath. “Questions later— you owe me and I have a lot of them— but we need to get out of here and to an actual first aid kit or hospital because I kind of just tore my jacket and used that to tie it off but you still got shot.”

That’s what happened. He knew he was forgetting something.

“Can you stand?” Jay asks. Brian makes a noncommittal noise. Jay grimaces but says, “Well, we don’t really have a choice right now.” And steadily helps him to his feet. Brian hisses when his shoulder is jostled but manages to stay standing with Jay helps. After a second of hesitation, Jay slings one of Brian’s arms around his shoulder and carefully, he leads as they stumble through the woods together.

Brian squints, trying to think. “We’re in Rosswood?” He mumbles.

“I think so. I haven’t really had a lot of time to think about it.” Jay glances at him. Brian stares back, tilting his head. “You— you saved me. Why did you do that?”

Brian frowns. “You were gonna get shot. What was I supposed to do?” The words come out slow but clear enough for Jay to understand. Jay searches his eyes for something. Brian isn’t sure if he found it when he finally looks away.

They walk in silence for a little while. Brian’s eyes glaze over the trees and his eyes flutter a little when he hears the soothing sound of a nearby babbling stream.

“Stay awake.” Jay reminds him. Brian’s eyes open a little wider obediently. He thinks he missed having someone else around him. Someone who made him have to think a little less. Someone to rely on.

“Where are we going?” Brian manages to get out.

Jay stops, staring straight ahead and lost in thought like he just realized that himself. “I… Was going to head to Tim’s house. I don’t have anywhere else to go but,” his gaze drops, “I don’t know how welcoming he’ll be.”

“‘s Tim.” Brian points out, trying to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes. “He’s not gonna kick you out if you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Maybe.” Jay pauses. He then uses his free hand to fumble for his pockets. “I should— call him first maybe?”

Brian nods, leaning against his shoulder. “Probably.”

Jay scrolls to Tim's contact on his phone. He stares at it. Keeps staring at it. Doesn’t stop.

“You’re not calling.” Brian points out.

Jay grips the phone a little tighter. “I’m still kinda pissed.” He admits, hissing through his teeth. “Why did he lie? Why didn’t— why didn’t he trust me?” His furious gaze turns to Brian, bitterness seeping out into his voice. “Why didn’t you trust me? What was with the code bullshit, why— why did everyone else know what was going on and all of you collectively decided to leave me in the dark?”

Brian thinks of scrambled thoughts, beyond what he’s experiencing even now. Codes upon codes upon codes, masking what needed to be said. He needed to hide his messages— too many eyes were watching, never alone, always watches, can’t trust anyone but desperately needing to at the same time— like a cycle. One that repeats over and over and over and over and—

And he needs to break out of it. Because it spirals his thoughts and has him self sabotaging himself like a snake devouring its own tail until there’s nothing left, is there anything left, how much of you is really left—

“I didn’t want you to make the same mistakes as me.” Brian says slowly, feeling out the words as best as he can. “But I don’t think I did a very good job of that, did I?”

The angry look is gone now, replaced by a guarded one, but almost… Hopeful, he thinks. Like Jay doesn’t think it’s going to immediately crash and burn.

“I’m sorry.” Brian finds himself saying. “For… A lot of things.”

Jay doesn’t say anything. His gaze drops to his phone and after another beat, he presses the call button and brings it up to his ear.

Tim picks up on the third ring. “Jay?” Brian can hear him well enough, being in close proximity and all. He sounds hesitant, almost disbelieving.

Jay swallows before speaking. “Tim. We need to talk.”

Tim pauses for a long moment. “Is this gonna be like the last ‘talk’?” He sounds almost weary but there’s something else there. A wall he’s put up.

“No, I—” Jay lets out a breath, “It’s important. Alex almost—”

“—shot you.” Tim finishes. “I found your camera. I wasn’t sure what the hell happened or if— if you really got out or not but… You should know I’m glad you’re alive, alright?”

“Thanks.” Jay’s gaze flickers to the ground. “I’m not looking to fight but we really need to talk. All of us.”

“All?”

“You, me, and— and the Hooded Guy.”

“The— he’s with you?” Tim’s voice raises an octave higher.

“Long story. He’s kinda the reason I didn’t get shot but he got shot instead and he needs medical attention. I did what I could but— he lost a lot of blood, Tim. He’s barely standing.”

“‘m fine.” Brian insists.

“You’re delirious— look, Tim, we’re in Rosswood right now. It took us here but— can we meet you back at your place? It's better to do this in person.”

“That’s a long walk. I’ll pick you up— meet me at the parking lot, alright?”

Jay agrees and hangs up soon after. They take off again, now with a new purpose, and the rest of the walk is uneventful.

Tim is just pulling up when they finally get there. He takes one look at Brian and his mouth drops open. Jay tells him to focus on the more important matter and they lay him down in the back of the car to rest. Brian feels sleep dragging him down and finds it hard to resist.

Tim and Jay’s voices wash over him. All tension bleeds out of him and Brian finally sleeps, trusting that they’ll make sure he wakes up again.

— —

Listen. LISTEN. I wanted Jay taking care of a half delirious Hoody!Brian so I know he’s a little more relaxed than he should be but bloodloss and suddenly being in contact with somebody after all that isolation are some powerful drugs. I’m being indulgent, as a treat.

Hope this satisfies your Hurt/Comfort Brian desires, feel free to send more writing requests if you want! I might put this on AO3 too but unsure yet! Anyways, hope you enjoyed and thank you very much for the request!!

[atinydragon]

Rat Manor: Hide And Seek

After the day’s incident it’s decided that the rats less experienced with borrowing should get some lessons in it. To Button’s surprise she volunteers!

[masterlist]

"I can't believe you did that!" Button tried to make her voice stern but it came out squeaky as usual. "You know we're not supposed to be seen."

"I know, I'm sorry Button." said Glimmer. The fairies antenna were drooping. They lowered their voice to a whisper "But our new guest smelled like trash and Sam wasn't much better."

"Still..." Button glanced over at the other three fae.

They were standing in a group with Sam explaining to Willow how she found Moss. The pixie in question was standing next to them smiling as her eyes darted around the attic.

"...We're not supposed to be seen." repeated Button.

"Why not?" said Moss.

Both Button and Glimmer jumped. Neither had seen the pixie approach. Even Sam and Willow looked confused as to how she got over there.

"Well giants don't really like us..." Button fidgeted with the end of her dress.

"Giants are really territorial." Willow stepped in. "They don't like others in their space or taking their supplies, no matter how small. Sometimes they don't even seem to realize we're people."

"That's because of the glamour." said Glimmer simply. They looked at everyone's confused faces "Y'know the one that makes giants see us as bugs and literal rats? I've told you about it right Button?"

Button fidgeted. Had Glimmer told her about it before? She couldn't remember ever hearing of it. But what if she said they never did and then she just forgot about it like a terrible friend-

Glimmer sighed and straightened up. “Well. I'm not certain of its exact origins but it's a sort of universal glamour on all fae that disguises our true appearances to giants. To them we look like a normal rodent or insect."

"Is that why that giant didn't react to you?" said Sam to Moss.

"Yep! I was just a big fly." Moss buzzed her wings to make a noise uncannily similar to a fly’s buzz.

"That actually makes a lot of sense, it was probably a defense when we first encountered giants..." Willow trailed off, getting lost in his own head.

"Right, it's a defense thing. I'm sure giants would react far worse to a person in their home than just another bug." said Glimmer.

"All the more reason to not be seen." said Willow as he snapped back into reality "They're likely going to set traps now that they know for certain that pests can get in. Maybe even worst..."

Button gulped and stared at the floor. She felt Glimmer's arms wrap around her shoulders.

"But!" Willow said hastily "This is an old house. It's only natural for there to be hundreds of ways for actual bugs and rats to get in. The giants here have almost certainly accepted that they'll have to deal with them being inside. As long as we don't any more brazen things or let them see us in the pantry we should be fine."

Everyone nodded.

"Good. Tomorrow I'll go scout and see the damage. And hopefully get food, those apples are barely enough for tonight."

Alone? Not even the bravest of scouts in Button’s family had been willing to go alone unless absolutely necessary. Willow didn’t seem stupid to her so he must be quite brave to do this.

Sam cringed at her bag of browning apple chunks. "Wait just you? Weren't you all about as many people going?"

"For food runs yes usually. But this is a scouting run." said Willow. "Also you're... well..."

"A liability, yeah I get it." finished Sam.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Everyone was scowling or looking down avoiding the others eyes or shifting around like they didn't want to stand there anymore.

"I could do stealth training with you guys." Button blurted. She squeaked and covered her mouth. Why did she say that?

"What's that?" said Sam.

Somehow Button's paws lowered on their own "It's something my family did to teach the kids how to sneak around a dwelling. Where to walk, how to hide quickly, that stuff." Button's ears were burning by the time her mouth finally stopped.

There was a pause.

Button curled her tail around her legs. They were not happy at all. She was going to get yelled at.

"Oh yeah that's a good idea. You are very quiet, no offense, so you must have been really good at it." said Sam.

"Yes more sneaky!" buzzed Moss "I like sneaking."

"Then we'll do that." said Willow "I'll go down and scout while Button gives you all a crash course on being stealthy." Once again everyone gave their agreement.

Button blinked, unsure of what just happened.

-------- -------- ----- --------- ------ ------------- -------

"Why'd you let me say that?" Button fussed with her cloth piece, unsure of how to wrap it around her in a professional manner. What even was a professional way to look to teach people how to steal?

"Because I'm not going to tell you to shut up." Glimmer grabbed the cloth and began wrapping it around Button "Especially not when you're being smart. This is a good idea." They tied up the cloth.

"Still... what if they don't listen to me or make fun of me?"

"After what the three of us did without any thought yesterday, none of us have any leg to stand on if you mess up. Besides Sam will be waiting for me to mess up, not you."

"I guess that makes sense." mumbled Button.

"Good. Let's go."

The two fae left the den and headed to the hole.

Moss and Sam were waiting there for them. Willow had already left to hopefully map out the kitchen giant's, or the cook as Glimmer thought she was, schedule.

Button gripped one of her pony tails. The only one she could look in the eye without breaking her neck was Moss. Even Glimmer was suddenly intimidating with the prospect of having to teach them something looming over.

"So what first teacher?" Glimmer winked.

Hopefully Button's mouth was making the normal smile she was trying to get it to. "Well... first is..." she glanced around. How had her mother started these lessons? "Where would you hide if a giant appeared? GO there. Right Now!"

The other three looked startled at the suddenly firm voice that came out of Button's mouth. But then Moss zoomed off and the other two moved as well.

Button had been mentally counting. Once she hit five seconds she spoke, trying to be as loud as she could. "Okay! Stop where ever you are!" She walked forward to begin searching only to stop when she glanced at the hole and saw Sam on the first platform.

Sam grinned sheepishly up at her. "Should have gone down one more huh?"

"That's okay, this would get you out of a giant's way at least. Want to help me find the others?"

"Sure." Sam heaved herself out of the hole.

The two didn't have far to walk until they found Glimmer crammed in between two boxes.

"Well, I guess that hides you from a giant." said Button "Can you get out?"

Glimmer squirmed, doing little to get themselves out. Sam had to pull them out.

It took the trio longer to find Moss. The pixie had hidden herself well. She was only found when Button happened to look up and spot her hanging upside down from the rafters. "That was fun! What's it for?" said Moss once she fluttered down to the others.

"It's a test. But we're not done. Now you all close your eyes, say millipedes five times, and then come find me." said Button.

The others looked confused but did actually do as they were told.

Once they all had their eyes closer Button bolted.

She rounded around a box and headed full tilt towards a bookshelves. Narrowly dodging splinters, she dove under it. Now laying down she moved just enough to get somewhat comfortable on her stomach. And she waited.

Soon she heard the others began to search for her.

Sam and Glimmer were immediately bickering but still moving around. Moss was either silently searching or had gotten distracted.

Time passed and eventually Glimmer and Sam were standing in front of the bookshelf.

"Where is she? Can she turn invisible or something?" said Sam.

"Not that she's told me. But I'm starting to wonder..." Said Glimmer.

"Nope!" Button popped out from under the shelf.

Both fae jumped at her sudden arrival.

"How did you fit under there?" Sam crouched down to look at the small space. "Also why are we playing hide and seek?"

Button stood and brushed herself off "Hide and seek?"

"It's a kids game. One person is 'it' and has to close their eyes and count while everyone else hides. Then the person goes to find them." said Sam.

"Oh. A game?" Button had never done these tests for fun. How rough did Sam live?

"It's so fun! We didn't really take it seriously, at least my siblings never did. My brother, James, would just throw a blanket over himself. Sometimes it would even work, but usually he'd just end up popping up shouting 'boo!' and chasing the seeker. It was great."

Or Sam's family hadn't been as strict as Button's and the game was actually just a game. Button ignored the odd pain she felt from this information "That sounds nice. My family always used it as a way to train kids on how to hide and flee properly. I've never really played it just for fun..."

"Well you can now." said Glimmer "I mean, we have to take it seriously but you're already so good."

"Yeah! You take it easy so you don't completely own us newbies." Sam winked.

Button blushed "Okay."

Moss appeared from nowhere "Can I do the findings now?"

Once the others got over the fright they agreed.

[dq-avenquire]

Omg hi aven I hope you are doing so so so well grrrrr!! I saw your DQIX boss tier list and I just wanted to ask since I am so curious like! I know you gave some thoughts about the bosses in the tags but your thoughts on tarantula in specific got me thinking because them being interesting yet weak as a boss fight is like. So real ?? Literally huh?? And it's a SHAME because the Bloomingdale story is one of my favorites from the main game! So I just wanted to ask like, what standout bosses felt narratively gripping but weak as a boss fight? Did any feel kinda eh for you storywise but actually got your blood pumping a little?? I am just so curious lmao. Everytime I see you gush about DQIX it feels like I am a starry (hehe) eyed kid who got transported back to 2009 waakwkwajjansnssns

P.s I hope your party/parties are questing well!!!

this is so shameful i did not see this i am so sorry scuffle my friend sniffle....i will ramble so much just for you. (i hope you can feel me beaming astral gratitude at you, you are very kind to me) OKAY SO. spoilers for most of dqix ahead tread carefully questers!!! the post our dear friend scuffle is speaking of is this one here where im tiering boss's based on very arbitrary and specific criteria, and im gonna go into more depth rn: disjointed rambles lie ahead beware!!!

i spoke a bit about tyrantula already but - while i dont know if i just happen to be overlevelled everytime i get to bloomingdale or if its just scaled weirdly - shes always absurdly easy for me to beat. ive never felt like im chipping away at her, its always more. okay well theres like 3 turns left moving on. and then shes gone! and thats such a shame given my already long standing feelings on tyrantula. there is something to be said in regards to her being weak potentially fitting nicely into the story if we see it as a sort of "marion(ette) wouldve been easy to save, but no one ever did" kind of concept, but thats almost definitely not what was intended so it feels a little. unearned, i suppose. especially given that the reward is the massive boat and no true happy ending for marion(ette)

story wise i'll admit i was actually kinda :/ about leviathan and porth llaffan - i was really attached to jona because i thought her accent and design was really cute, but the actual build up itself was not particularly interesting to me for whatever reason (felt a little generic? not sure, i found a good chunk of newid isle to be a bit "going through the motions-y", even if i really enjoyed the tower of trades itself*) (my issue lay more with the cave than the story). the boss fight however? i struggled with that SO MUCH as a kid. something about the waves he summoned DESTROYED my team repeatedly and i remember getting so incredibly invested in trying to JUST barely pull through. repeated heart racing and wishing that there was a health bar so i could at least tell if i was even remotely NEAR close to beating it. finally seeing that flash of white with the last hit really got me, and the following scene with jona and her father kinda pulled the whole thing together for me! i really liked going back to porth llafan to talk to jona every once in a while, even if her dialogue didnt change. my friend :) * want to clarify. i definitely didn't Dislike anything, i think i was just so enamoured and curious about the whole whale summoning thing the ghost was talking about, and then having the focus be turned on "youre going through a cave now" without much extrapolation on this village's non celestrian based worship made me a little disappointed, so by contrast 9 year old me was WAY more excited by going on to bigger places. perhaps also part of my conflict was that i actually beat the porth llafan section BEFORE alltrades. im not even sure if i went to alltrades abbey at all before beating the whale. probably didnt help some of it feeling a little jumbled!

that being said, i think the boss ive come around on most is either goreham hogg and/or the master of nu'un! i ranked goreham hogg pretty low but feel the need to clarify that part of that is just that hes REALLY fun to hate. hes this awful, opulent beast of a boss who destroyed me age 9 and ran/runs that sincerely horrific slave camp/prison so its easy to dislike him! thats good! hes a villain! im MEANT to not like him, and given how much i ADORE goresby purrvis (for being so cool) and hootingham gore (for his sick design) its probably important that i want to sincerely kill at least one of them. there is very little i truly dislike about dq9, since i tend to have Fun getting mad about things in a cathartic sort of way.

re: master of nu'un - he was a boss i never found particularly standout, and found weirdly anti climactic when put in contrast of this weird and mysterious tower (that has no clear purpose btw i need to talk about that in depth sometime what the fuck is the tower of trades actually there for from a worldbuilding perspective im so intrigued) and then this strange glowing room (which is literally referred to as the ??? room in the wiki btw. isnt that sick) where this priest weve been looking for is just. transformed. and that transition is really cool honestly!! i imagine it wouldve been more monumental to me if id done things in order, since i wouldnt have seen the fyggs in action yet, and in theory it also makes a really interesting narrative precursor to corvus (see my previous notes on jack abott and his parralels to the player) but i feel like his abilities and attacks were just a bit...eh? no super standout animations, which is a shame given that he does a quirky little "hehe what should my new evil name be....high jack....jackrilege maybe ....." before the fight and implies some sick mischief in him that doesnt really get communicated further. i think some of my feelings on this got sorta cemented when (over a decade later) i finally fought yore, and his design and fight felt a good bit more fitting to him. sure, it makes sense for a priest to get a fucked up evil demon form, but it just doesnt quite hit the nail on the head! its not terrible, just not the coolest thing in the series!

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

happy dadwc, for Tal &....not quite a companion character but I'm just thinking about her thinking about a half elf Kieran so. "learning a new skill from a grownup", maybe an encounter in Skyhold 🥺

OH BOY I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS ONE BUT ALSO THE PAINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN anyway have Tal and Kieran and lessons on creating things :3

for @dadrunkwriting

Rated G: Slight Angst, ~1.4k words

Familiar Eyes and Hands that Create | Exalted_Dawn

“What is it that you are making? You’ve been working on it for quite a long time.”

The wood between Talenna’s fingers fumbled, falling into the grass between her crossed legs with hardly a thump. Left to wander in the menial paths of routine and memory, her focus was tugged back to her by the wind-song rasp of a small child’s voice.

A silhouette just barely tall enough to eclipse the sun above their heads moved to cast her in merciful shadow, and Talenna blinked back the midday glare until finally she could see clearly again. It was a young boy, perhaps no older than twelve years, with raven hair that glowed chestnut along the edges. Familiar eyes– a deep inquisitive gold, not unlike her own– stared down at her in curiosity, and the slightly tapered points of his ears were a bright pink with the mountain frost.

“A gift,” she responded nebulously, retrieving the half finished ring from the grass and putting it to the knife once more. “Nothing much of interest for little Orlesian boys, I’d imagine. There are plenty more fascinating things in the garden for someone of your age.”

“I’m not Orlesian.” The boy cocked his head, as if confused she’d ever make that assumption. And perhaps she wouldn’t have, were he not buttoned up to the neck in fine silks.

“Well you certainly dress Orlesian for someone who claims not to be,” she chuckled, her attention falling back to her work.

The boy looked down at his attire, face scrunching in thought, or perhaps scrutiny. “Perhaps you might be right,” he conceded with a pout, his voice cracking as if distressed by this. “I wonder if that, too, makes him sad...”

‘Him'...?

Almost unbidden, Talenna moved to ask. There was something about the somber tone of his voice, too weary to come from a child, that nearly startled her into asking, but before she could question him, he questioned her first.

“Would you be willing to teach me?” He nodded to her whittling knife and half carved chunk of Ironbark.

“To whittle?” she asked, seeking clarification.

He nodded again. "To create."

Again, there was that odd, out-of-place heaviness to his words– something both innocent and not that set her nerves on edge. But even though they twisted like a knot in her stomach, that only made her gnawing curiosity hunger for more. 

With more hesitance than she normally carried herself with, she scooted over to make room for him to sit against the tree trunk beside her, and happily he went. Without care for staining his breeches and cuffs with meadow-bleed, he folded his legs in front of him in a perfect mirror to Talenna, his bright smile wide open and eager. A normal child again.

“Well…” She started, picking up her parring knife and blocks of wood to show the boy, “I’m sorry but I did not bring any other materials, so you will have to learn by watching. Ironbark is a stubborn wood, and only the Dalish know its secrets.”

His smile widened, flashing the slightest of gaps in the boy's teeth. “That’s alright– Mother says I’m a very good listener. And even though the tree’s secrets are old, our blood is older. That’s why it tells us. Because we remember.”

Our blood. Us. We.

“You’re Dalish.” The words came out more statement than question, as if speaking a simple truth. She had guess he might be elf-blooded, but by his finery she had assumed the son of a noble or-

The lad giggled, and it sounded like wind chimes. “No! I’m Kieran. My father is Dalish though. I wonder if the trees ever told him secrets.”

She stared at him, baffled. “You are an odd child, you know that, da’len?” 

It was the only response she could think to come up with, but luckily it seemed the child Kieran took no offense. He straightened, eyes intent and face bright with joy. “So you’ll teach me then? Please, tell me you will!”

Well if nothing else, her gut told her this was bound to be an experience worth remembering. “I suppose I can give you a few tips. Mind, I’m no expert, but-”

“I want to learn from you.” Kieran shook his head, and something about the lad softened. For a moment it seemed like the edges around him blurred– the world going sharp by contrast, but he reached out to touch her wrist, and then everything was as it had been. As if nothing had changed at all. He grinned, and when he spoke, it sounded like honey. “These hands have created many beautiful things– I can tell.” 

“I…” Talenna paused, unsure of what to say. A rare occurrence. And so she said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, and resumed her work, Kieran’s inquisitive eyes on her all the while

Shadows stretched as the day grew long, light shifting between bright and brilliant to pallor gold. Talenna first went through the steps verbally as she worked, and once Kieran insisted he was ready, she repeated them again as he took the tools in hand. Their work was slow and tenuous, as often lessons with children were, but despite Kieran’s unique insights, he was a good student and an eager learner. 

By the time the sun had sunk to touch the peaks of the Frostbacks, the boy had only accrued a handful of shallow cuts, and was clutching a clumsily-made nug in the heart of his palm. A simple shape– with uneven ears and rough, angled edges– but the effort and attention put into it was easily recognizable. Talenna plucked up the small figure and unstoppered her ink bottle, quickly painting a nose and a pair of dot-eyes onto the nug’s face with the butt of her shaping tool. “There. All finished.” She handed it back to the boy for him to inspect. “Be careful not to smudge it.”

He held the small thing up to the light, his expression growing grim and drawn. Small, sable brows bunched together in harsh concentration, twisting his face into a scrunched up knot. “It doesn’t look like I thought it would… I thought it would be better.”

“It is a good first try,” Talenna assured him, tucking her tools away into the bag at her hip. “Practice a bit more, and you’ll improve.” 

“Will it only work once I practice more?”

Talenna raised her head at that, her gaze heavy with confusion. Kieran’s frown had only deepened– now edging almost into distress rather than common frustration, the small, wooden nug cradled carefully in his hand. She straightened, perplexed. “...Will what work, da’len?”

He nodded down to the half-formed ring still resting in the hammock of her skirts. “You made that to make someone you love happy. To make a family. That’s what I wanted to do, too.” He looked back to the crude nug he had made, worry reflected in his eyes. “Ever since babae left to silence the singing, Mother has been very sad and lonely. I thought if I made babae something, we could all be a family again.” 

Talenna felt her heart sink. His father was likely a soldier, then. 

“Ir abelas- You and your mamae must miss him terribly…” The words felt like stones on her tongue. “Kieran, I am sorry to say, but I do not think this will help to bring back your babae. Sometimes, life carries those we love far away from us, and we can do little else but hope for their safe return. However-”

She reached forward, clasping her hands around his to hold the nug tighter in their shared grip. Beneath her palms, his hands were so small. The hands of a child, and they trembled slightly as she spoke. She squeezed them firmly. “If you send this to your babae, I have no doubt at all that it will make him very happy, da’len. We can even make one for your mamae too, if you like.”

He sniffed, and nodded. “...She does like crows.”

Talenna almost laughed. She stood, releasing his hands to tuck the small ring away into her pocket. She already had her happy family, here in the Inquisition, after all. Finishing her bonding gift to Calder could wait one more day.  "Then tomorrow," she said, smiling down at him, "come meet me at this spot again, and I will teach you how to make crows."

[beevean]

https://youtu.be/fDKZJbOiEQ4?si=k_KZ2dI4EPU3FHyR

https://youtu.be/LSnbb8e7UY0?si=FbAPhkoSgToMQvIb

Behold! The Queen of all time!

(And somehow Lady Pussy Sun manages to be even more one dimensional)

What kills me about this whole monologue is the setup:

Lenore: Please, would Dracula have kept [Hector] around in his own castle if he were that dangerous? Carmilla: *sighs* I would have liked that castle.

They were just talking about Hector, about him stalling and Carmilla suspecting him of being devious (and I would love to know how Carmilla grew to see Hector as suspicious and capable of killing, when she hasn't interacted with him on screen since the beginning of S3 when he was a pathetic sack of flesh) and Lenore "protecting" him by calling him "too simple" (déjà vu), a pretty important conversation for Carmilla because it has been six weeks and this asshole is making a fool out of the entire Council by roaming around her home without doing what he was raped hired to do (and Striga had mentioned in S3 that they couldn't afford to waste time as they had to take advantage of the chaos in the region before the humans reconquered it)... then Lenore just happens to mention the castle when it wasn't even the main subject of her sentence, and Carmilla immediately forgets all about the Hector issue because she just has to rant about her desire to conquer all?

absolutely peak dialogue. flows just as smoothly as chunks of concrete through a tube. i can see why this show is so praised for its writing.

I remember a post I read ages ago, about how Carmilla's insanity speedrun arc devalues the other sisters. In S2, she was pretty much the only ruler of Styria: the others weren't created yet, and she was written as someone who had to burden her trauma all alone. Then S3 introduces this tight-knit group of besties, which genuinely respect and admire Carmilla for being the "spark". Then in S4 Carmilla somehow loses her mind in one fell swoop because the others were too busy to check on her, reverts back to the lonely traumatized woman who fell prey to her own hatred and thirst for power, and the other three decide to turn their back on her with barely any hesitation. You could honestly cut all three sisters and fuse Carmilla with Lenore, and the story would be organically better. I honestly don't know if it looks worse when you watch everything in one go or having to wait one year for this mess.

On top of this, it's yet another instance of show don't tell. Carmilla just tells us about her trauma. "The first part of my life was men taking things from me," this is a chilling line with all sorts of terrible implications, and it's just thrown there without any care or pathos. Because the focus is not on her motivations that are supposed to give her depth: it's to show how insane she is, to suddenly kick her back into main villain position after she twiddled her thumbs for a whole season, and to justify poor widdle Lenore being scared of her, because hey, she's the "good" vampire, and aww she was lied to just like Hector, aren't they true soulmates, isn't this poetic cinema?

When you boil the Styria subplot down, it really is all about that damn woman, and screw everyone else, isn't it.

I said in one post that if I were to rewrite Carmilla, I'd put more emphasis on the fear that pervades her and drives her to react to the world with rage, mistrust and desire to protect herself. I cannot take Carmilla seriously the way she was written. She has the blueprints to be a compelling antagonist and representation of a woman who reacts to her trauma in an "unappealing" way without being woobiefied (and I do seriously appreciate it), but with scenes like this, she really only comes off as the scornful parody of a radfem written by a man that is absolutely not feminist in the slightest.

Oh, and I'll just mention this here:

"Bloody women," they said. "Let them die," they said.

For a setting so inspired by Berserk, and that has long dialogues of low-class men talking about fucking animals, there is a distinct lack of misogyny on screen. Not only the only flashback we get of Carmilla's past shows the day she killed her master and we don't get to see her "nightmares", which means we are not privy to the details of what drove her to be so hateful, we never see any men actually look down on Carmilla for being a woman in power: even Godbrand may be a bit of a lecherous pig, but seems to respect her enough as a person. Again, this cheapens her misandry. I can't take her seriously. She's just ranting that MEN BAD and I'm supposed to think she's cool for it.

[ironwoodprotectionsquad]

*crashes in, late to the talk of Culture/world building in RWBY* Sorry I'm late but OMG Can we talk about the biggest flaw in rwby WB that is just all of it when we get the Salem Backstory?! Like lets say we ignore Light being a hypocrite that makes even the Greek gods look better just by 'lets not allow one life to come back but i'm ok with WIPING OUT EVERYONE ELSE'. Lets talk about the ruins that were left behind! Wouldn't they and any items of magic (given that magic was only taken from flesh but if Enchanted Items existed they'd last a really long while) be apart of the culture? The Last humans didn't get to go 'oh btw we got nuked lol' so wouldn't there be questions about it? Like Ex: Mass effect had a race of beings that were highly advance then suddenly POOF! gone! noone knows where they went or what happened to them, only their structures and lil bits of tech remain. Remant would've had that! Then you got Salem who was being a Tryant (Tyrant who didn't get there fully) during their fight with Oz, so what happened to that?! Like ik humans now a days barely want to remember anything that doesn't aid their cause but we seem to remember a good chunk of the horrible people in history who did things for various reasons. So surely Salem was in the history books as the Cruel Queen, right?! Tapestries, old tales, cruel yet intresting sculptures, anything! She had the biggest way to flip the god of light off and didn't take it?! And if Oz gave up during certain amounts of time why didn't she 'unite' the world her way to help prevent Oz's actions moving forward? Groups that could be Salem's Lot that prevent the finding/obtaining of Relics so Oz's inner circle couldn't get to them easily. If RWBY was given the same TLC, Passion, and Soul as any other hit series We'd have our answers, and the four coteninets that seem to matter would have some beautiful mixture of all cultures despite the flaws of each one. Hell I'd love to see a Roman structure built with the same Material as the the Lost City in Mistral, Vale having a way to balance out the various cultures that came through from times of war while still having parts of it self that says 'I am Vale, through and Through' and what saddens me is my head can only go 'Sand! its everywhere! Get used to it!' for Vacuo because they made it seem so. with I believe 1 oasis...I might be wrong its been abit. Atlas-or rather Solitas- could've been Viking theme with bits of other warrior cultures with the main though it 'Tough times brings out the Strong' or something of that nature due to the cold being so harsh even Grimm can't withstand it, and as it progressed to Mantle and Atlas it still head that believe/culture but its more of a 'teach but not done' as the new tech made lives abit easier. I still see Menagerie as Australia just due to its position on the world so i can't think of much for it right now.

Sorry for the long rant. It was one of those things I had to get off because its nuts we went through not 1, not 2, but 3 kingdoms but held very little that could only be described as Lazy cause they knew we weren't going to explore the world and everything was just quick décor in a mario lvl of old.

First off never ever apologize for long asks I love the and I should apologize to well everyone for being slow as shit to reply to them.

Unfortunately, RW//BY suffers from a severe case of the writing is written by the writers flying by the seat of their pants and it shows. We have no hints of humanity existing before the gods killed them all. No signs of the worship of Salem which really should be a thing given she and Ozma acted as gods to humanity 2.0 and Salem killed Ozma before he could do anything about it so she realistically should have continued that cult following telling people his husband betrayed her or whatever sewing the seeds of distrust towards him and all of his reincarnations. Their is just so much that realistically should have happened with Salem that....didn't because the writers didn't bother to put in the work, they didn't build up the world realistically or have this big plan like they claim and the lack of consistent or realistic world building shows that.

Each of the kingdoms should have their own cultures and foods and religions and languages even. They should feel distinct and unique from one another while also still feeling like they all belong to the same world. Haven not having the same tech as Beacon feels jarring. As RW//BY traveled the world they should have repeatedly felt out of place in whatever kingdom they where in because they don't know the culture or customs within the world. We should have them struggling to communicate with people who speak different languages, or at least establish that after the great war everyone learned a single language to allow for communication between the kingdoms.

Sorry back to your point. When Salem killed Ozma the first time, she should have amassed a massive following of worshipers who hated their goddess's treacherous husband. She should have made a mad run for the relics to gain control of them before Ozma could. Their should have been a battle happening for a long ass time over them. Their should be some sort of reason why Salem wasn't causing mass chaos for decades before the events of RW//BY. This war should be much more known about then it is and it doesn't make sense within current cannon why it isn't more known. To hide Salem's existence he should have had to do something to strip her of her strength and influence but we have no evidence of any of that. We have no reason to believe that Salem hasn't bothered to try for the relics until now and that is most definitely a major problem. For example in ATLA, we know the Fire Nation couldn't enact it's ultimate plan because they had to wait for Sozin's comet to return. We have an in universe reason for what has been holding the Fire Nation back until now. RW//BY just doesn't have something like that built in to explain Salem choosing to hide and not acting until now.

I just cannot fathom why CRWBY/fans try and insist that this show has been planned since the beginning with so much evidence that it wasn't and couldn't have been. We have incomplete and contradictory world building, story lines that where never set up. Story lines that where dropped and conflicting canon information and it is just beyond infuriating.

[cloudbattrolls]

Epimetheus

Guardian Artifice | 465 sweeps prior | Civitrecce

“I think you’ve been working on it too long, dear.”

The words were fuzzy. Muffled. They only barely had meaning. 

“Nonsense! I last took a break, ah -“

“Three hours ago, dear. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing it.”

The click of a tongue. What was a tongue?

“I’m fine! You’re just fussy, sweetheart.”

“You won’t be fine if you don’t rest, love.”

A complaining tone replied, yet it had a clear undertone of fondness. The voices moved away, muted until they vanished entirely.

How did it know all this? It remembered nothing. What was it? Who was it? 

It opened its eyes, not realizing it had had them. It couldn’t see well either. It was in a…workshop? Many tools and materials lay around it, machines of purposes it could only guess at.

It squinted. It tried to move.

It couldn’t. It did have a body - it was more than just thoughts - but it was strapped down by leather to a cold, hard table.

It ached from stiffness, it realized. As if its body had been lying here for nights…

But how did it know these things? How could it conceive of past nights when this was the very first time it had opened its eyes?

It tried to speak. No good; its throat was too dry, its tongue - yes, muscles for speaking - was leaden and useless.

An animal wandered up to it. A familiar animal…? No good, it couldn’t recall if the big white furry thing with the small ears and knowing dark eyes was known to it.

The animal sniffed it, then started chewing at the cords. It felt a rush of excitement.

It took a few minutes, but where was it going to go? It had no idea where it was. Who it was. Why it was here. 

It was rapidly realizing it had far more gaps than anything else in its head. An awareness that there were massive chunks missing, including context for what it did know.

As the animal finished chewing through one strap, it flexed its arm. Pale gray. Clammy. The flesh turned to metal, partway down the arm. Part of it felt that it shouldn’t be able to move.

But most of it delighted in the freedom, and several minutes later, its other three limbs and tail followed. Wobbly, hesitant, it eased its aching body off of the hard gray table and stood up, relying heavily on its large tail for balance. 

The animal nuzzled it. It wasn’t sure how to respond. It tried to nuzzle it back, feeling the press of something hard into the animal’s soft fur. The animal backed up and wheeked softly. 

Its mood plummeted. Oh no, it had offended its savior…

No nuzzling, then. 

But…

It looked at its hands, sharp and bladed. It didn’t…it didn’t want to hurt this animal.

Animals bled.

Did it bleed? 

Curiously, it cut its skin -

“No!”

Said one of the panicked voices from earlier and it looked over, recoiling in fear from the noise as it stopped. It had only made a small cut, and a few droplets of a grayish red substance oozed out.

“Oh - oh my goodness, you’re alive! You’re awake! Can you understand me? Oh, please, please don’t hurt yourself, Arty.”

It tried to speak, but again its throat was too dry, and it could only make a croaking noise.

“Oh, of course! Your throat’s dead…you’re dead, well, your body was dead, I…one moment!”

They sounded quite flustered, this voice, frantic, yet excited. It could only make them out as a blurred gray shape in red and yellow clothes, with bright green eyes. Then they turned and quickly walked away.

It stood there, unsure what to do. Follow them? But it could barely move, still…

The animal stayed a few feet out of reach. It wanted it closer again. It would be so careful and not hurt it at all. It knew it could do that.

It put a bladed hand to its face and found…metal. It tapped it. Hard and unyielding. No wonder the white creature had shied away…it was soft and warm and…

Alive.

It wasn’t really alive, was it.

“Here you go! Water! Ah - be careful. Those hands of yours are fragile.”

Carefully, it gripped the glass with both hands, shaking a bit as it drank. It nearly coughed the water back up, its throat so dry and unused to it after nights spent - yes, nights spent dead.

It must be dead. 

Yet it wasn’t.

“Why…” it said, the word slow to come, hard to say. “Why am I…” it gestured to itself. Speaking was difficult, so terribly difficult, and it had so much to ask.

The person - the troll - fidgeted and patted its arm.

“Oh, you poor thing…I meant to be here when you finally woke up! You must have so many questions…ah, but having questions is such progress! I was beginning to think…never mind! This is my first great breakthrough! All that work wasn’t for nothing!”

They sounded so jubilant, and yet…it couldn’t share in their joy.

“Arty…I promise this isn’t forever. We’ll get you fixed up! You’ll be able to do everything! Anything! You’ll be just like a normal troll, I swear. Better, even! The first living security system!”

It shrank back. What did that mean? They were talking so loudly, so fast. It put its hands to its head, dropping the glass of water It wanted the animal back.

The troll startled at the noise, but its head already ached along with its body now.

“Ah…oh dear, you’re probably a little overstimulated, I’m sorry. I’m just…you have no idea how much this means to me. But you will! I promise I’ll teach you everything. You’ll understand just how wonderful you are.”

Wonderful…

It didn’t feel very wonderful right now.

It sat down, tail curled around itself.

“I want…” it gestured at the white animal.

The troll paused. “My lusus? Oh - well, sure, why not! Go on, Baba.” It said in an encouraging tone. “Go to Arty.”

The animal looked at the troll, but then walked back over to Arty. Carefully, Arty extended a leg, its bare foot not having any blades, and touched the soft fur.

Yes. Much better.

Vaguely, it noticed the troll writing something with feverish enthusiasm. It couldn’t bring itself to care.

“I’m…dead. Who am I?”

Clumsy. Fumbling. It had to get better at speaking, as soon as possible.

“Oh! Well…your body belonged to a friend of mine.” Said the troll with a sigh. “Poor thing. Mutants tend to have health problems…we really did try to save them. They agreed to let me have their corpse for my work, and not a night passes when I wish I could thank them again. But you are Arty. Guardian artifice. It’s a nickname for who and what you are, you see? Isn’t it cute?”

Cute…like the animal, which had settled down, its nose twitching occasionally as it let Arty pet it.

Yes, it wanted to be cute too.

It nodded in agreement, the movement heavy and awkward with its metal faceplate.

The troll beamed, they thought, from what they could make out of their expression.

“Ohhh!” They said, hands clasped. “I can’t wait! This is going to be amazing!”

Whatever the troll said next, Arty didn’t hear, as it curled up next to the animal and went back to sleep.

[ask-chef-teruteru]

Les go

Plushie part 2!!! Electric bugaloo!!!

(Side note sorry if this is too many plushies and too much plushie l o r e)((also also sorry if this is really long and annoying))

This is yunobo!

He used to be a dog toy but i deemed him too cute to be a dog toy so i stole him <3

He's also used to be boyfriends with this other plush but i felt bad for liking yunobo more then the other plush so i broke them up lol

He was named after my irl bird yunobo

This lil dude

Unfortunately he was REALLY skittish and i wasn't prepared to take care of him, i barely did any research and it didn't help that my mom was scaring him more by tyring to make him be around people

He just wasn't a people bird so i had to give him to a bird sanctuary, i hope hes happy there :>

This is coment (star) and coral (crab) i got them at edisto and i plan on taking them again when i go back this year (maybe, idk its not set in stone)

They're siblings but its more like coral adopted coment as her brother, also coment thinks he's from the stars but he's really just a star fish and coral doesn't have the heart to tell him otherwise

This is sticks (hedgehog) and twig (sloth) my gran gave me sticks from her trip and she gave twig to one of my little brothers but they're not very good at taking care of they're plushys... and we have dogs who like to chew up plushies.... and i found him on the floor... so he's mine now :)

Also they're boyfriend and partner (sticks goes by any pronouns but twig is a boy)

Also sticks like to find metel in the woods with coment so that they can make a space ship so that coment can "go back home"

This is tutu! I found this one dirty cat ballerina at the thrift store so i bought it, cleaned it, tore its face off and turn it into tutu!! Also he's not hostile :)

He's like kitty (that one backrooms guy) he just likes cute stuff, he means no harm <3

Also I'm suprised nothing has fallen off him? I'm not the best at sewing but i am still kinda proud of him

This is blondy! My mom made her for me when i was really little, she made everything from the pants to the shirt to well... the rest of her lol

My mom also made another doll that looked more like me and her name was dolly, unfortunately i don't know where dolly is but shes like blondy but with brown hair and green eyes

This is... i don't know yet i haven't thought of a name! I got this plushy today actually at the thrift store

I remember being a lil teensy bit jealous of my sister cause she had a star projector when i was little and now i can be like: who's the cool one NOW B]

And finally, heres amari

Shes not a plushy, but she is kinda dumb and lays around a lot so i guess shes plushy like

Shes got a nub tail, a mustache, thumbs and also looks like a football

Shes also a stinky little freak :]

Well thats... a good chunk of my plushies

I hope you liked them all :))))

“Aww, they’re all so cute! I think it’s real neat that they all got their own stories n’ lore! It’s clear that ya love n’ take good care o’ all your lil’ guys. I appreciate you sharin’ ‘em with me! It always warms my heart seein’ the things my lovely lovely patrons feel so strongly about!

They’re all precious! I think it’s sweet that Yunobo used to be a dog toy that wound up with a much more cherished existence. Givin’ Tutu a new face must’ve been no small undertakin’, and I think y’all did good! Your mama makin’ Dolly for y’all is real nice too— stuff that’s handmade with love like that is always so meanin’ful.

Amari might not be a plush, but she’s cute n’ I’m happy to have gotten to see her too!

It’s kind o’ y’all to share so much with me— I don’t think it’s annoyin’ in the slightest, so don’t worry your pretty lil’ head about that none, okay? I appreciate you n’ I hope y’all have a wonderful day— and I hope all your lil’ friends do too!”