#like i see a skeleton and when its about to shoot i place a door between us that blocks the arrow

[bunnymedley]

wondering if i should try starting a new minecraft world and committing to never using a shield. would that be cool

[bluerosefox]

Over Tea

A sudden chill sweeps through Gotham, almost like Mr. Freeze had just attacked only thing was the man was currently locked away in Arkham, and was felt by all. And talked by all via word of mouth and on social media as well.

The clouds and smog that covered their dark city shifted and swirled, a rumble beginning deep inside them as the weather turned from smoggy to rain and thunder with no real warning. The strangest thing was the green glow that could be seen when thunder rumbled inside the gray clouds.

Then like a candle being blown out, the rumbling stopped, the rain ended, and the clouds parted all over Gotham.

For the first time in a while Gotham had a clear sky and it felt... it felt like something heavy had been lifted off the city.

It was this sudden shift and the all felt chill that had set off alerts for Batman and his family. Since early morning since the first change and shift happened he was in front of the Batcomputer trying to narrow down where it started.

After hours of searching with the help of Red Robin, Oracle and strangely enough Red Hood, they managed to narrow down where the odd power had been coming from.

Was still coming from, only very low.

The old and abandoned observatory tower.

-x-x-

"More ecto-tea Lady Gotham?" Danny asked, his hand waving towards the steaming pot nearby.

The woman smiled lightly, her dark painted lips curling up to show her sharp fangs for a moment before saying "No but thank you Young Kingling though I would like more cookies if you don't mind. Now where were we?"

Danny nodded towards her and signaled towards a maid skeleton ghost who walked forward with a tray of cookies. The maid swiftly placed a few more cookies on the spirit embodiment of Gotham plate before bowing and stepping away.

"We were just about to discuss the sentience of the Court of Owls." Danny said as he lightly tapped the large almost mountain of paperwork on the table they were sitting at, floating high above the floor as shooting stars and planets drifted around them. Many ghosts floated around as well, servants that had sworn their loyalty to the Young King, and were preparing things like snacks and drinks for two powerful beings in the room as they discussed business. Nearby doors and windows though were ghostly knights that stood tall and alert, making sure no interlopers interrupted the meeting taking place and ready to defend not only Lady Gotham but their King.

"Ah yes them." Lady Gotham grimaced as she took a drink of her ecto-tea. "That will take some time for us to discuss, they've been running around unchecked for to long and even with my limited abilities to hinder them has been less than ideal."

"You, Lady G, were deeply cursed for many, many years and I just broke most of it." Danny cut in quickly, he was not about to let this wonderful and powerful city spirit blame herself for something out of her hands "Due to said curse you couldn't do much so please don't go blaming yourself. Its mostly broken now, so you can freely start healing yourself and your city self now that jerk demon that cursed you is in Walker's prison for his crimes."

Lady Gotham grew silent for a moment, her dark eyes staring deeply at the young King but then warmly smiled, well as warm as she could seeing how she was Gotham itself. "You reminded me of my Knight, Young King, treating me like this. Not afraid to point out the truth and facts."

Danny gave a light laugh as he took a hold of one of the cookies on his plate and gave a bite "I'll take that as a compliment Lady Gotham. Now about those Court of Owls...."

[its-chili]

Mold

I read a strange book once in elementary school about a girl and her cat. Something about ghosts or shadows and a curse I don't particularly remember the name or nature of. I only got about halfway, as those sorts of things tended to freak me out, and I would have rather read I Spy or Ripley's Believe It or Not. But, for some reason or another, I have never been able to get the setting of that book out of my head. It took place in a house that wasn't hers- or at least a house she hadn't lived in for her conscious years. I remember how it was described as this massive organism whose cells and organelles consisted of hallways and bed bugs. How living in its bricked walls was to invoke the experience of being digested, and with every passing day, parts of you would congeal into the furnish. Your flesh would start to peel, needing another coating, while your bones would creak and cry out for oil. I remember the terror that the book instilled in me. 

I don't know when I left or how I got there, but I wake to find myself in front of a house, simultaneously my own and someone else's. 

There is an infinite expanse of blotchy gray-green in every direction, only varying in size but never shape. A skeleton of a picket fence, overgrown with weeds and vines, the only thing separating me from the great beast of brick and mortar. I turn my head to look behind me, expecting to see a road of some sort, but nothing. Nothing but Daisy, my old truck, and her faded mustard skin and bulging blue headlights. I don't remember driving. Where are my keys? I dig a hand into my pocket, rustling around only to pull out some cotton knots and… I want to leave, but Daisy smiles, encouraging me forward. I don't think she knows where to go, either. Or if she is even capable of leaving. Last time I checked, she was on empty, and her left back tire was about to burst like a rubbery piñata 

I turn again. The house remains. Motionless. The exterior has been painted cream. Or white. Or something of the like that maybe once looked pristine and shiny and new but has long since lost its luster. I try to remember a time when it looked shiny and new. It has always looked this way. It has never looked this way.

Despite myself, my feet begin trudging forward, carrying me like an unwilling passenger forced upon a train headed for what could only be certain doom. I feel the strain of weeds tangles against my boots. It feels like ripping sinews. 

The journey takes hours. I appear at the steps in minutes. Where did the railing go? 

Flashes of my grandmother shoot through me. She smiles as she holds out a tray of apple juice and chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. Then she frowns as the tray hits the ground. She's staring at me. Her ankle doesn't look right. 

There is supposed to be a railing. 

I go to open the door- but there isn't a handle. Where did the knob go? Did someone steal it? Who in their right mind would steal a doorknob? Does it have that much value? Or was it the only shiny thing left, and whoever stole it figured that that was the only thing that could possibly give them anything worth the trouble. The urge to run suddenly spikes through my chest. I turn again. Daisy is gone. Everything is gone. It's just the infinite sea of blotchy gray-green.

I hear a creak behind me. The door is open. 

I can't move. Everything in me screams. I want to laugh. I do laugh. I laugh so hard my sides hurt, and tears start to form in my eyes, and I have to bend over and hold onto the railing that isn't there to steady myself. 

I bring a sleeve to my face to wipe away the tears and the blurred lens of my reality, and I almost relish in the salty sensation of the tiny droplets that manage to sneak their way onto my tongue. I relish the soft fabric of my sweater. I don't remember if I have washed this. Do I need to wash this? I smile as I bring my arm back down, only to find myself standing in the middle of my kitchen.

A table carved with indentions and scuff marks sits illuminated by a single golden orb. I can't see past the head of the table. I can picture my father's beaming smile, slightly shaded by a tangle of salt and pepper strands of scruff. I hear my mother's voice whisper a wordless prayer. It resonates with me. I sit at the end. A plate is in front of me, but I don't know what's on it. Mashed potatoes? Squashed Eggplant? Whatever goes into the cafeteria food I had to consume in college so I wouldn't starve? My fingers grip a knife I didn't realize I was holding. The mass does not make a squelching sound. It does not vibrate slightly like rotting jello. It does not stare up at me with one giant, congested, verdant eye whose veins pulsate to the rhythm of my racing heart… It does not roll back to gaze at the other end of the table. It does not focus on the figure at the other end of the table.

At one point in my life, I think in my junior year, my family and I had to temporarily move out of our house because we had discovered a patch of black mold behind my parents' bed. The cleaners knocked out the wall, prepared to place the plagued patches in the trash, and called it a day. The wall came down. 

The bones and organs of my entire house were black.

During that time, my mom had been designing the interior for my uncle's townhome, and thankfully, he let us crash there until the mold was dealt with. My mom's immune system could be compared to a wet Kleenex, as almost every food category was in the danger zone, and she couldn't get nutrients and immune support from just salads and chicken broth alone. I spent that entire summer in that tiny house–having to drive back and forth 30 minutes from there to my job back home to back again to my friend's houses to my grandparents to back- The gas prices always seemed to rise every time I pressed on the pedal. We were given the all-clear at the beginning of August and promptly huddled back into the hovel we had carved in the shape of ourselves…. 

Two years later, my mom started coughing while we watched Sound of Music in her bed. She got sick…very sick. She was ill to a point where fish lips chewed on her eyes, and blue worms wiggled beneath her taut skin. I remember the crystal snake that curled around her arm and off the bed, feeding back into a plastic bag hanging ever halfway empty beside her. I remember the drip. Drip. Drip of it. I was a floor above them, but I could still hear it underneath my covers. I swear I could see the tube sometimes slithering beneath my bed. 

And then, one spring, the drip just… stopped. 

It was sunny outside. 73 degrees. No chance of rain. 

We tore down my parents' room a few months later…and faced a black hole of spores as the wall came down. 

My eyes focus once more, or at least as focused as they can get with the dim lighting. I stare at the "not mashed potatoes" before me. I want to look at the other end of the table. I need to look at the other end. But my body refuses; there's an anvil pressing in my throat, forcing down every syllable and scream and panicked breath, and my hands are clamming up like they've turned into a kid's bad science project. I feel the neurons firing; I can picture myself craning my neck as if my head didn't feel like a sloppily attached bowling ball. But nothing. I am utterly paralyzed. 

The sound of wood scraping against wood echoes in my ears as the shadows shift just out of sight, dancing at the edges of my vision. The floor creaks. Closer. And Closer. Uncomprehendingly heavy and light all at once. And from the darkness, a fragment of a long, wiry appendage slowly begins to-

[toastess-with-the-mostess]

Let's Rewind! Toast watches Voltron: Defender of The Universe (1984)

Season 1, Episode 19: The Buried Castle Season 2: Episode 20: Pidge's Home Planet

Episode 19: The Buried Castle iirc this is the one where Pidge acts like a big brother to a group of kids, very cute episode

3 little kids are walking through the woods and find an abandoned castle after feeling a quake, obvs they must explore it because they're explorers, so they run for it already I'm questioning why they're even in the forest in the first place, have your parents taught you rugrats NOTHING?

The team saw it too through castle monitors, apparently it just came out of nowhere which is never a good sign There's a legend attached to it though, about a war long ago where people fought over its abandoned treasure but ended up destroying so much shit that the kings of the nearby kingdoms buried it because they couldn't destroy it Weird castle, no wonder people acted stupid for it

Pidge and Lance banter over whether going there is a good idea, your honor they're so sibling coded I love them and their dynamic so much

Pidge is allowed to go explore for treasure lol except Allura tells him to bring a mouse in case of trouble this is what we call foreshadowing people doivsdv

He ends up meeting the kids who are thoroughly freaked out in the forest and mistake him for a monster before he recruits them to help find the treasure Pidge ily but that is so dangerous for little kids, these guys are younger than you, and you're like 12 tops

Haggar and her cat appear, as per usual, and she messes with the little girl, Morgan, by casting a spell to have a hand grab at her from underground only for it to be a stick when Pidge gets it off her As expected, twas a trap, but also Pidge don't be so rude to the girl, she's scared out of her mind already

They get in and find a room with a treasure chest and stuff their pockets full of gems or whatever else was in it my first thought was that it was going to be a mimic, but no just shiny gems lol

Plot twist, not gems, they're actually snakes and toads, and the group only finds out after Pidge sees the cat and tries to lead the kids to the exit only to get locked in oh, also the room is spinning, and more hands lock the kids in place until they're trapped inside a huge bell still upside down The mouse comes in handy, and he's off to get some help

After Allura tells the team Pidge is trapped with some kids Keith is going worried mother hen on him and tries to radio in, to no avail how cute, I'm glad we get some found family moments

Oops, Haggar knew they were coming and as they approached the door she threw a skeleton army at them that apparently can rebuild themselves is that an ancient greek myth reference?

Keith lets the other three run inside while he shoots at the skeletons but they get trapped in the same bell anyway, then Haggar calls a robeast to LIFT THE CASTLE OUT OF THE GROUND AND TAKE IT TO DOOM this episode is so wild oh my god, also there was an animation error with Hunks sleeves in the bell, they were cut short!

Keith was on the castle when it got pulled out and decides to climb the tethers to stop the robeast himself Dude,, thats so dumb what the fuck

Some drule fighters get sent out and start shooting at him which makes him fall but obvs he's got mc protection so he lands on one of the fighters AND BREAKS IN TO CRASH LAND IT TO BLACK Keith what the actual fuck, task failed successfully

The castle is cut loose AND CRASHES ONTO ARUS SOMEHOW NOT KILLING EVERYONE IN THE BELL look i know this is a sci-fi show but no way is that believable in this setting either

Voltron forms up AND APPARENTLY HAS NUNCHUCKS?? HELLO?? NO WONDER NOBODY CAN DEFEAT THE GUY HE HAS AN ARMORY AT HIS DISPOSAL

After the robeast is defeated Pidge is training the kids like soldiers and Lance calls him out on there being no training for being a treasure hunter

Lance: besides there's no such thing as real treasure kid 1: that's not true we found a real treasure in Pidge! IFVNSODV THAT'S SO CUTE OMG

/episode end

Episode 20: Pidge's Home Planet Ah shit, the episode I was dreading and the reason why I hate Coran so much

Starting off with coronation talk! Allura obvs is next in line for the throne and nanny talks about the crown her father and his father before him wore at their coronation I like to think Allura isn't the only girl who gets crowned as ruling monarch but this is a big deal!

ofc there's talk of marriage before she does and Nanny refers to the boys as "things" she needs to let go, so she can settle down and be a proper princess/queen AND PROCEEDS TO BE THE MOST CLASSIST BITCH IN EXISTENCE how fucking rude, I refuse to respect this woman ever

Jfc,, Nanny says that if they don't leave after Allura gets married/Voltron isn't needed anymore then they can be her guards that do nothing but answer to her every whim, and then Coran tries to say it's not them forcing marriage on Allura it's the Arusian populations what a fucking joke, how can they treat their literal heroes like they're space bums as Hunk put it

Hell yeah, the boys stormed about because of the treatment, except they go do some scans of space and Pidge finds out his home planet, Balto, is getting hit by some pretty big missiles This kid is like 12 tops dude,, that's gotta be a tough sight

OOOH MY BLOOD IS ON FIRE, the boys are starting to rush to go give Balto some aid but apparently Allura Coran and Nanny know and decided TO BRING THE FUCKING GUARDS INTO IT AND CORAN PUTS THE TEAM ON HOUSE ARREST AFTER THEY REFUSE TO STAY ON ARUS Their reason is that they're afraid Arus will be left defenseless and normally that'd be fine EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT THEY'VE GONE OFF PLANET MULTIPLE TIMES BEFORE

Pidge isn't having it and starts beating up the guards, the boys follow suit before rushing to the lions, except Allura starts sobbing and begging Keith that they need to stay like it's not that I don't understand her worry because it's a fair thing to fear EXCEPT YOU'RE WILLING TO LET A PLANET BE DESTROYED? EVEN MORE SO THAT IT'S ONE OF MY PLANET'S OWN SAVIORS HOME?? FUCK COMPLETELY OFF

Coran: I can't blame them for going, let's give them a proper send off (PROCEEDS TO SHOOT ALL THE CASTLES WEAPONS AT THE LIONS TO STOP THEM FROM LEAVING ATMOSPHERE) ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, THIS IS WHY CORAN IS ON MY HITLIST

Lance: Beneath that hard shell there beats a heart... a heart of solid granite GET HIS ASS MCCLAIN

Of course those assholes were right and Zarkon planned Balto's attack as a distraction for the team, so he can conquer Arus, Lotor gets sent to make sure the boys can't teamwork their way out of danger I want to bite into a block of wood holy shit, this episode is bringing up all the damn rage

The team gets to Balto, Keith and hunk tell pidge to steel himself which is sweet of them, and the first thing they see is decimation, Lance says that everything is wiped out but Pidge argues that they don't know that my poor boy, he shouldn't be out there, but he's part of the only team who can even do anything

Oh god, the team finds Pidge's hometown and Pidge can't even recognize it, everyone is starting to tear up now, especially Pidge who's trying to be strong as he goes down to search for anyone, to no avail Pidge says his people got off planet in time, but I refuse to believe that especially if the attacks came out of nowhere which they most likely did

Lance gets really sentimental about Pidge's culture and civilization being turned to dust in just a day before Lotor attacks and sends them to their lions He's always been my second favorite and these small pieces of dialogue are part of the reason why

Lotor sends out a robeast and starts absolutely kicking the teams' ass, apparently Keith and Allura have a telepathic link because he asks for her help because they're a team, and she finally realizes that he's right, so she rushes off to do the right thing About fucking time princess, I don't think Pidge will ever trust you again though

As she gets there the boys are still getting beat up but they're fighting hard for Balto, Lance digs his way towards a volcano and sets the bitch off to give the team time to regroup and finally see allura again to form Voltron and as always the fight is won, but not without a major loss

The team has to fly off planet asap because the fight destabilized it so much it starts to break apart My heart hurts, the entire team is sobbing, and Pidge can only whisper for his home

Lance sympathizes with him, his own home had been destroyed, even if it wasn't a planet wide destruction like Pidge's He's definitely going to look after Pidge a lot more after this, brotherhood to the max

The planet finally explodes, Pidge cries for not being able to see his house one last time, his family apparently was off world, so he doesn't even know where they are either Iirc Pidge and his twin were adopted, so I wouldn't be surprised if they were off visiting some place, and his twin is part of the vehicle force while I'll cover after dotu

Allura tells him she's going to make him an Arusian citizen in response to not having a home anymore which he accepts, and they make their way back to Arus for a banquet in honor of his new citizenship It's a sweet gesture and definitely appropriate but christ, this kid lost him home right in front of his eyes, he seems ok at the end of the episode, but nobody would be after that

/episode end

[adamwatchesmovies]

Constantine (2005)

Constantine comes from the era of comic book film adaptation when we were just happy to get ANYTHING. This allowed writers, directors and executives to do whatever they wanted to make the stories and characters more accessible and bankable without mobs coming to their doors with pitchforks and torches. Unfortunately, this often resulted in generic, forgettable films. The less familiar you are with the Hellblazer comics, the more likely you are to appreciate this less-than-faithful take on the character. I enjoyed it just enough to give it a mild recommendation while hoping a better adaptation will someday leave this one in the dust.

In LA, cynical occultist John Constantine (Keanu Reeves) is surprised to find a demon attempting to enter our world through its possessed host, rather than simply puppeteering her the way demons usually do. Meanwhile, Detective Angela Dodson (Rachel Weisz) is shocked when her twin sister, Isabel, commits suicide. Isabel knew this mortal sin would condemn her to Hell, which prompts Angela to suspect she was actually murdered. These strange events are somehow linked to a strange spearhead discovered in a ruined church in Mexico that possesses a man (Jesse Ramirez) while granting him near-invincibility.

With his American accent and black hair, this Constantine feels a lot more like a traditional cynical hero than the blonde from Liverpool you'll find in the pages of DC/Vertigo's comics. There are worse things your movie could do, but it doesn’t help make the story memorable. There's got a mystery that leads to a big threat, which is a good spine to build your skeleton upon. We’re introduced to several rules about the world. Turns out that God and the Devil (Peter Stormare) are competing for mankind’s souls and that neither demons nor angels can directly interfere; they only “influence” people. “Half-breed” angels and demons can walk around doing what they want, however, and when they go too far, Constantine puts them back in their place. He’s doing this to win himself a spot in Heaven. Our favorite exorcist has terminal lung cancer - that’s what you get for smoking non-stop. Maybe this case will be the one to get him his golden ticket. I dunno. Doesn’t it feel like more could be done with this? When you boil it down, Constantine isn’t much deeper than End of Days with Arnold Schwarzenegger and is that really where we want to be?

It’s the details of the world that wind up interesting us in the end. The visions of Hell we see are unique. It’s like a perpetual nuclear sandstorm ripping apart a parallel Earth, with damned souls squirming in agony below while demons prowl about. Getting there requires you to perform simple but convincing-looking rituals, which is one of the standout moments. Rachel Weisz and Keanu Reeves have some pretty good chemistry, even if it would be a cliché for her to fall for a man who didn’t even hold the elevator door open for her the first time they met. Pruitt Taylor Vince as Father Hennessy has an inventive encounter with a demon. Shia LaBeouf plays Chas Kramer, Constantine’s driver and apprentice but he’s gone for such large chunks of the movie you wonder why he was even included. Tilda Swinton has a memorable but small role as the Archangel Gabriel. At this point, I feel like I’m just going through a list of things about the movie, which anyone could do… but maybe that’s all there is to say. How does the movie make you feel? Excited while Constantine is shooting demons with his cross-shaped gun or punching them with holy brass knuckles, I guess. Intrigued when we’re piecing together the clues behind Isabel’s death, I guess. Not exactly a rousing endorsement but the film is not boring. It moves, you want to see what’s coming next and once it’s over, it’s out of your mind.   Could it be that I’m nostalgic for Constantine? I do remember seeing it when it was released on DVD. In fact, I specifically remember buying it. I went to HMV looking for V for Vendetta. This was going to mark my official transition from VHS to discs and when I got to the store, I saw they had an exclusive 2-pack that included Constantine for free. Maybe that’s what's tipping me over the scale; the fact that I didn’t have to pay anything to see this film. If you decide to check it out, stay all the way to the end of the credits for a bonus scene. (August 16, 2022)

[crybaby-and-hoo-ha]

Attack 5

Chapter 1

Max Zenith was about to have the most stressful interview of his life. Sure, his father had taught him how to use a shotgun at the ripe age of six, but it was either he makes it or breaks it. His previous job, a small bakery, had gotten shut down because he couldn't afford the rent and now he was forced to nab the first job he could find. A mercenary.

As he sat in the small and rather humid waiting room, his brain was in a state of stress and anticipation as his leg bounced up and down. He fidgeted with his tie and tried to slow his breathing while slowing his brain down simultaneously.

"This was a horrible idea. I should've never done this. Wait, no, if I didn't I'd die on the streets. I still hate it. Ugh! Just shut up, brain!" He murmured to himself as his white button up felt increasingly more suffocating. His hands were clammy, his heart was beating out of his chest, and he was absently pinching himself in a futile attempt to wake himself up from whatever nightmare this must've been when suddenly, his attention snapped up to a tired man in the doorway. He had dark black hair that was combed back with gel, a cheap black suit with a bright red tie, and bags under his eyes. His face was cold and hard, and void of any emotion.

"Max Zenith? It's time for your interview. Right this way please" The man had a refined cockney accent and spoke in a tone that was similar to an irritated professor. He waited for him to stand up before making a gesture for Max to follow suit. Max's knees were shaking and felt like jello. He felt queasy and fidgety as if his skin was too tight for his skeleton. As the black haired man led him to the office, Max's mind filled with doubts before he sat down in front of the desk.

The office was a gray and sunny room, facing out towards the city with a dark mahogany desk in the center and a few awards and certificates hung upon the walls, proudly displaying high ranking achievements.

"Oh boy" Max thought as his foot tapped anxiously against the carpet floor. "This guy's the real deal"

"So, you went to Stanford, huh?" Max asked, his voice wavering slightly.

"No, that was my father. After he died he passed the company onto me," The black haired man said, his tone stoic and almost impossible to read. "Anyways, let's get on with the interview, shall we?"

Max nodded and took a deep breath.

"So, Max, my name is Jimmy Brookes. This interview will be simple. Nice and easy. Okay? Can you shoot a gun?" Jimmy asked bluntly, not even flinching when he asked the absurd question.

"I...Yes?" Max replied, confusion written all over his face. The question took him by surprise due to its upfront nature.

"Great, you're hired." Jimmy said while clasping his hands together and standing up. "Here's a file of all the things you'll need. You'll start on Monday, 7 AM,"

"Wait wait wait wait. That's it? That's the whole interview? There must be something else or-" Max was interrupted by Jimmy placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

"No. That was it, Maxwell. You start on Monday where you'll meet your other colleges. I must warn you though, they are a bit...strange..." Jimmy murmured while slowly escorting Max towards the door. "I'll see you on Monday, Max. Good bye."

The door shut hastily in Max's face. He was stunned, confused, and shocked all at the same time. There was still adrenaline rushing through him as he walked towards the elevator.

---

As Max trudged through the chilly and snowy streets of New York, the cream yellow file in his hand, he pondered and mulled over the rather abnormal interview.

"Why would I need a gun? Wait, why would I need this job again? Oh yeah, I have seven dollars and half of a rubber duck to my name." He wondered to himself anxiously. His feet were freezing while he shuffled along, clutching the file in his pale, cold hands. "Well, at least I have a job now"

He slowed to a stop in front of his apartment complex and pushed open the glass door. A gust of warmth hit him and he sighed softly as he climbed up the stairs to his apartment. He fumbled with his keys before sliding them into the door and turning them with a satisfying click. The door swung open with a loud squeak and Max stepped into the baron apartment. Without having a job, he was forced to sell all of his belongings for a temporary solution.

It was a small and cheap studio apartment with white walls and a dirty mattress in the corner along with a cheap, rundown mini fridge he got from a garage sale. It looked more like a prison cell than an apartment.

He flopped down onto the mattress with a huff and opened the file, only to find a pictorial recipe for egg salad.

"What the...huh?? What the hell is this?!" Max exclaimed, irritation and confusion laced in his tone. "Is this some kind of joke?!"

He sighed and threw the file across the room, the paper making a soft "fwish" sound as it skidded across the hardwood floor.

"You know what? Fine. I'll go on Monday, maybe it was a mix up," Max muttered, pulling the thin blanket over him in an attempt to try to get some shut eye.

---

The next two days were a blur. Max would wake up, get some coffee he could barely afford, and go to the store to buy baking ingredients. Even though he was near bankruptcy, he still enjoyed baking. By the time Monday had rolled around he had made at least three dozen cookies from stress baking.

To say the walk to the Agency was stressful would be a huge understatement. Max was sweating even in the chilly January breeze and his hands were shaking.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. You know what? I've got this. I've totally got th- What am I saying, no I don't," Max whispered to himself under his breath. He sighed and pushed the door open and made a beeline straight to the elevator.

[bagsybaggins]

Chapter 2: Troll! In Hogsmeade! Thought You Ought to Know.

Atropos stood by the fountain in the central hall, looking down at her field guide deciding on her first class to head to. Professor Fig had been kind enough to place a note on where each class was located in Hogwarts.

"Merlin, Hogwarts is practically a maze." She muttered as she flipped through the book that filled itself out with each page revealed. "My first classes, the closest would be a defense against the dark arts. Might as well head there."

She stared at the map in confusion, pursing her lips as she tapped the page with the tip of the wand. A smile bloomed on her face as a golden butterfly popped out of the pages, shooting off towards the large brown doors to her left, leaving a floating golden trail to lead her there. Following the trail, she opened the door and stepped outside into the transfiguration courtyard, walking past another fountain. She frowned as she looked to her left and saw the rubble of a broken statue, wondering why no one had bothered to fix it. Sighing to herself, she pushed forward while silently vowing to fix it herself later.

Pushing open another door, she paused as she looked up the stairs in front of her, noting that there were stairs to her left just around the corner. Following the golden trail, she headed up the stairs in front of her, glancing down at her field guide as she reached the landing. Her brows furrowed as she looked at the golden trail leading up a second set of stairs, before looking down at the guide and seeing a way with fewer stairs. Closing the field guide and tucking it beneath her arm, she walked to the right around the stairs, silently hoping that she was right. As she turned around the pillared corner, she was relieved to see the butterfly trail just on the landing on the stairs in front of her.

Then her nerves came back again, wondering if she would know anyone in the class and if she would do well. 

Inhaling deeply, she opened the door and noticed a duel happening between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Slight relief hit her as she noticed Poppy standing a few feet away from her, watching the duel in amusement.

"Poppy!" She whispered whilst sneaking over, "I'm glad I know someone in this class."

Poppy grinned, "And you weren't late for class, in fact, you're a little early. Professor Hecat should be coming in any moment now."

Nodding her head, Atropos turned and watched the duel curiously. "Why are they dueling? Did they have a spat?"

Poppy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "No, it's just Sebastian and Leander dueling again because Leander wants to believe he's better than him. Sebastian doesn't really care about dueling, but he doesn't back down if asked."

Atropos raised her brow as she heard the Slytherin say something, but couldn't quite catch what he had said. She could tell that whatever he had said had angered the Gryffindor.

"And? Is he better than Sebastian?" She asked as she turned to Poppy.

Poppy raised her brow before leaning in closer. "In my opinion, Sebastian is probably the best at dueling in our year. Leander just doesn't know when to quit."

As they turned back to the fight, Atropos held her breath as the Slytherin raised his wand and the Gryffindor deflected it upwards; Causing the spell to hit the large dragon skeleton that hung on the ceiling, knocking its head loose. The Gryffindor ducked down as the skull came loose, heading straight down onto him until the professor walked out and cast a spell that caught the skull.

"Perhaps you'd be good enough to blast each other to pieces on your own time. I get new students every year, but I only have one Hebridium Black skull." Professor Hecat lifted the skull back into place while walking down the stairs. "It was a token from the great poacher raid of 1878, no doubt you've heard of it. Now you may be asking yourself, how an old woman like me single-handedly took out the largest poachering in Eastern Wales and lived to boast about it."

She smiled at us and answered. "Knowledge. Today we will review a spell that has saved me from death at the hands of dark wizards more times than I care to remember. Levioso." Atropos turned to Poppy with a brow raised as they all moved to their seats. "A surprised opponent is a weak opponent. Care to defend yourself, Mr. Prewett; No?"

Atropos's grey eyes darted over her fellow students, noticing the ginger Gryffindor looking down at his desk in embarrassment. 

'Ah, so that must be Leander.' She thought, her eyes moving towards the Slytherin. 'Then he must be Sebastian.'

"One thing I've learned as an unspeakable is the value of simplicity." She paused as she looked over the classroom. "Especially in the heat of battle. Now, let's practice what we've just learned, starting with something small."

She waved her wand and a box against the wall to our right opened. Small blue and purple feathers levitated up and floated over our desks and down to us individually.

"Practice the wand movement and the pronunciation. We wouldn't want the feather to spontaneously combust as Countess Cornelia Di Bandi did back in the 1700s trying to levitate herself to her balcony." 

Atropos paused as she looked up at Professor Hecat, in hopes that she was joking, but swallowed thickly at the serious look on her face.

Looking down at her feather and her field guide, she raised her fathers' wand and performed the incantation clearly. The feather shifted for a moment before lifting up and hovering above the table.

"Well, done." Professor Hecat nodded with a small smile as everyone's feathers were floating in the air. "Now, let's try something a little larger."

Atropos pursed her lips as she stood from her table, and quickly moved to Poppy's side as Professor Hecat pulled a training dummy on wheels forward to the front of the class.

"Perhaps our new fifth year would like to go first and show the class how it is done."

And suddenly Atropos wished that she was a muggle.

Stepping forward, and pointedly ignoring the stares she received, she focused on the dummy. Rolling the wand between her fingers, she took a side stance and said the incantation while performing the wand movement. Relief slightly cleared her nerves as the dummy floated a good few feet off the ground, and she smiled when she heard Poppy whisper her praise.

"Very good. But the best way to practice is by dueling. We'll start with you two. Duellist take your marks."

Atropos turned and saw Sebastian standing next to her, a smirk on his face as he moved past her. 

"Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome." He said chuckling while walking to the front of the room.

In his simple words, a fire broke out inside of her, a challenge was in front of her, and she wasn't going to let him take her down. She moved back to her spot as the dueling podium lifted from the ground, and she turned and faced him.

"Now, I want a fair duel using only levioso, basic cast, and protego."

"I believe in you Atropos," Poppy whispered from down to her left, and Atropos smiled as a swell of confidence filled her.

Suddenly, just as Professor Hecat tells them to begin, she remembers something her grandad had told her not too long ago. She had been 12 at the time, and there was a mean bully named Sophia Turner that wasn't too fond of her for some reason. She constantly made fun of her for always keeping her hair short like a boy, and how she rarely wore dresses.

She remembered what he had said when she had gone to him crying one afternoon. 

'They might say mean things to you, call you a boy and such. But you can always tell on them. Or, you can strike first. Hit them as hard as you can with everything you've got. If they call you boy, show them what happens. If they say your dress isn't fancy enough, you show them what happens.' He laughed at her shocked face. 'That's the same advice your gran gave to your mother when she was your age. The exact same look you're giving me now, but your mother took the advice to heart. And the next day she came back home with the biggest smile on her face and her right fist swollen. She had a mean right hook, your mother. But she never got bullied again.'

"This should be easy," Sebastian says while casting the protective shield charm, readying for his attack.

Opening her eyes, Atropos smirked as she raised her wand in front of her face. 

"Levioso!" She casts, and Sebastian's shield was broken, sending him into the air.

"What-" Sebastian begins, before being interrupted by Atropos who was smirking.

"This should be easy, you've got that right." She chuckles before casting three basic attacks in quick succession.

"This can't be your first duel!" Sebastian groans as he stands from being dropped.

Atropos steps out of her defensive stance, feeling the adrenaline putting a rush of calm through her veins. "What can I say, I'm a quick learner."

Sebastian notices her guard was down, so he quickly fires the basic cast.

"Protego!" She casts with ease thanks to her unexpected journey to Gringotts, with an extra unexpected side quest of fighting the armored guardians in an unknown location in Gringotts. Shortly before having a run-in with Ranrok, the goblin who might want her dead.

"You won't catch me off guard, levioso!"

And with Sebastian knocked off the dueling podium, she had won.

The platform lowered to the ground and Atropos turned around. She stepped off the platform, being quickly hugged by Poppy, to which Atropos immediately returned.

"You were amazing! I knew there was something about you!" Poppy exclaimed before pulling back.

Atropos chuckled as she felt her adrenalin wear off, "Well, that's good. Because I'm not sure if I can do that again just yet."

She turned as she heard approaching footsteps, and was met with Sebastian brushing off his cloak. 

"Not bad for a beginner. You give as good as you get." He said with an amused smirk before walking to the back of the classroom.

Atropos watched him walk away, then turned to Poppy with wide eyes and raised brows. "What just happened?"

Poppy grinned and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry friend, you just received the Sebastian Sallow approval."

Atropos frowned, "His approval? Why would that matter?"

"It just means that he's not mad, but rather impressed by you, Atropos. If you play your cards right, you might even become friends with him." Poppy said while laughing, "But you better not forget about me if you do."

And she shook her head with a wide grin, swinging her arm over Poppy's shoulder. "I could never forget about you Poppy. Who else am I going to turn to when wanting to learn everything about Diriclaws and any and every other magical creature to exist?"

-

I did it, I repaired the statue in the configuration courtyard. Just like I promised myself I would, now I feel better.

Opening my travel guide, I tap my wand against the map and follow the butterfly through the doors into the central hall. I see fluttering movements above me and use my newly learned spell Accio, and summon the page to me. Catching it in my right hand, and placing my wand under my arm, I continue to follow the trail while placing the new page in my field guide. Walking past the library and the fountain, I turn left before the green doors that lead to the Greenhouse. I open the doors and walk down the hall, grinning as I pass the humming suit of armor. Opening the next door I waved to Sebastian who stood by the door to the Bell Tower Courtyard.

He nods his head to me as I walk down the last steps.

"Hello, Sebastian. I didn't keep you waiting, did I?" I ask as I approach him by the door.

"Ah, my new charge. And no, you haven't kept me waiting for that long." He grins, "I'm told you're in dire need of supplies, and I'm to accompany you into Hogsmead for them. Is this your first foray into the village?"

I nod my head, grasping the sleeve edge of my Hufflepuff cloak in my hands. "It is. I haven't left the castle since I arrived."

His smile shifts into a smirk, "Well, I shall endeavor to be the very best of guides. Hogsmeade is a charming little place, self-contained too. We should be able to find you everything that you need. Shall we?"

-

One minute, Sebastian and I were just talking, the next we had a very angry troll swinging its very large club at us.

Side-stepping the downward swing of the club, I look at Sebastian who was just on the opposite side of the troll.

"I don't suppose this is what you meant for us to get up to?"

He scoffs a laugh whilst casting a spell, "No, my plans were a bit more tame than this!"

I huff as I pick up another barrel, and send it crashing into the troll, who obviously didn't like that.

"Do that again! You definitely weakened it!" Sebastian calls out.

"Weakened it? I think you mean angered it!" I yell back before ducking past its wide swing.

But I did it anyway, and I'll admit he wasn't wrong. Although neither was I.

By the time the troll was down for the count, I was more than prepared to leave Hogsmeade. Sebastian, however, suggested going to the three broomsticks and grabbing a butterbeer. And nothing seemed better than having a nice warm butterbeer, my rest could wait.

And just when I thought the day couldn't get any worse, it did. Because Sebastian and I overheard arguing on our way to the three broomsticks, and low and behold. Ranrok was in league with Rookwood, and they were after me. And the troll attack happened because I was there! So they most definitely want me dead. How lovely.

[ferniliciousness]

The DND saga continues finally!

This session kicked off right where we left it, the party heading to the sheriff's office to tell him about what we found in the mansion. When we get there he thanks us for investigating. Ember is very sad when he doesn't give her a patch from his vest for helping.

He then tells us that while walking to the office he has noticed the smell of death coming from the old church next door. We agreed to go and check it out in exchange for 15 gold each.

The church had obviously not been used in some time, in some disrepair with the basement nearly caving in on itself in certain places. Entering we didn't find much except for a few tables and drawers as well as an altar to the god Fharlanghn, which was still holding onto some traces of radiant energy.

In a back room we find three books, one a wizard scroll of advanced fire spells.... Too bad we don't have a wizard lmao. The other a book on drow, which our drow sorcerer, Cass, found to be rather inaccurate lol. The last one was a book on deities of Gem City and included Fharlanghn and a god I can't remember, Feora didn't read it lmao.

Continuing onto the basement we are met with a group of six undead skeletons and spring into battle. Ember brandishes her pickaxe and runs into the group of them, chopping off the arm of one of them. Celeste, our ranger shoots it again, cleanly killing it before shooting the one next to it and taking off its leg. Four of the skeletons surround Ember, hitting and biting her.

Poor Ember takes the brunt of the hits while Feora aims at a skeleton at the back of the room, cleanly sticking its skull to the wall behind it. Ember is bit taking some form of poison damage from the undead, before we are able to quickly kill the last of the skeletons. We rush to Ember who is inspecting her now clearly infected wound. Feora offers her healing but is denied as the Paladin prays upon their god to clear the infection and Cass gives them a potion.

At the end of the room we find an almost secret door, clearly much newer then the rest of the church we had been through. Walking in we find a large pit with a pile of bones at the end of it. Sitting atop the bones, chained to the ground is a Berbalang. The Berbalang leaps into the air, flying close to where it can almost touch us before hitting the end of its chain.

It begs us to free him, saying he means us no harm and was just being nosy around the town. It flies to its pile and brings us back a bone covered in infernal writing, which Ember is able to translate, full of all the tea of the town. It's similar to things we had found in the ledger in the mansion earlier that day. Everyone in the party is interested in the tea and we end up exchanging quite a few rumors with it before Feora looks down into the pit to see if she can free the Berbalang.

The way down is pretty steep but she's able to get down easily without a rope. The Berbalang lands next to her and sits quietly while she uses her dagger to break the chain from around its leg. It flies around happily, shaking Feoras hand and thanking her profusely before handing her a whistle made of bone and flying away.

The pile of bones are all covered in more infernal writing and Feora grabs as many of them as she can before climbing her way back up. Upon inspecting everything it is full of even more dirt from the town, including the fact that the leading family in town is actually in quite a bit of debt and not as rich as they would like to appear. There is also someone or something living in the Old tower and a couple in town involved in some shady business. The bone whistle is simple, lined with three groves and Feora can tell that it is made to summon the Berbalang up to three times.

The group gather what they made and start to head out of the basement... Except.... The basement appears to be much, much larger now. Walking for over an hour the group still does not find the stairs out, and instead are greeted by the night sky. No longer in the church they now appear to be standing outside of an old mining shaft some ways outside of town, and the sun now appears to be rising, instead of setting. Behind them in the mine they can hear Varguille chittering and snarling in the darkness. Ember quickly heads into town without the rest of the party.

Feora casts detect magic and is able to find traces of teleportation magic. Some ward obviously teleported them from the church basement to here. They walk into town, confused as to why time seemed to have moved so quickly as none of them are tired. They find the sheriff asleep on his desk, having waited up for them. Ember knocks on his table to wake him up (more like punches but 🤷) the man startles awake and immediately asks where we've been all night.

Feora tells him about their fight in the church and of the magic that teleported them to the mine nearby. The sheriff, does not believe her, accusing Feora to simply having been tipsy with wine and losing her way in the new town. As a bard, who has been around magic her entire life and literally cast detect magic, she is immediately distraught at the notion taking great offense to the sheriff who looks as though he hasn't cast a lick of magic his entire life. I believe her words were "I think I know the difference between a stairwell and a spell."

To make matters worse while looking for a map the sheriff knocks over a cup clearly full of wine, while h continues to say that it would have been a simple mistake and how he still couldn't believe there would be some kind of magic there. At this point Feora just ignores him, having had enough of his accusations. The rest of the party quickly speak up for her and get there payment for the job. The sheriff gives them a bit more info before quickly falling back asleep on his chair.

Ember, upset that the sheriff took the credit himself for there work, waits until he's asleep and steals some of the badges on his vest, quickly sticking them to her own clothes, where she finds they actually have some magical benefits. Plus she earned it after almost dying.

Heading back to the tavern they find the owner of the mine, already drunk at sunrise. They ask him a few questions about the mine, finding out it had been closed after monster attacks drove off the workers. With the info everyone takes a long rest in there rooms upstairs and leveling up.

We left the session standing in front of the old mine about to step foot inside.

[onebizarrekai]

can you feel my heart? (cut version)

It’s foreign. I don’t get like this. I’ve been through a little bit of everything—identity modification, crime, death, grief, sex, limbo—and this is the thing that leaves me lost for words. I don’t get it. The silence stretches on for too long. It’s uncomfortable and I have to break it as soon as possible but no words are leaving my mouth. So, I pick the easiest and dumbest possible option: kissing them.

I posted an 18+ shima/kokichi fic on ao3 today, but also it has so many VIBES, so here is a cut version that takes out the beginning part that makes it explicit and bumps it down to a mature (16+) rating instead.

enjoy :>

--------

“Come here.”

I don’t bother opening my eyes. “And what?” I blink my eyes open when I feel their weight on the bed disappear. They’re bending over me, one of their hands digging beneath my back and the other below my knees. “Hey, what are you doing?”

Shima lifts me up from the bed without breaking a sweat. Their body is even smaller than mine. I try to find somewhere to hold onto them and I cannot say it’s working out well.

“Bath. You were thinking about it,” they answer, walking to the door and urging it open with their foot.

I don’t think about how I resign myself to leaning into their neck. “Because you wanna drown me…” I just realized that Shima is carrying me naked through a hallway and I’m just letting them do it and the amount that this would not have been happening however long ago is so much. Being in their arms isn’t… that terrible, I guess, even if it’s cold and weird.

They don’t answer my halfhearted quip. We reach the bathroom and they put me down on the sink, spinning to turn the water on. I’m a tiny bit surprised when they don’t either turn it all the way to the left or make it way too cold. They actually miraculously turn it to a normal temperature and plug it up before returning to my side. I feel a smirk rise on my face when they fill up a glass of water and rinse out their mouth. They’re doing normal human stuff. I wonder when that started.

“Are you gonna clean me?” I ask. “Is this the aftercare phase?”

Shima glances up at me. “I have something to show you.” I rub my eye a little and listen. I hear them breathe in through their nose and let it out slowly, the sound of water running filling the space. They close a grip at the bottom of their black shirt, shut their eyes and slowly start to peel it upwards. My hand shoots out on its own to stop them.

“Whoa, whoa. Hold on. Seriously? I was starting to think you were gonna be a skeleton under there,” I tell them. “Why is this happening all of a sudden?”

They peer right through all my intentions. “I’m not forcing myself. I’m trying something. It might not be permanent.” I pull my hand away. For some reason, my chest swells up as they continue, pulling the shirt higher. I can see their skin. Why am I nervous? I didn’t know this was possible, but I think they might be nervous, too. It’s infectious.

The shirt comes off. I immediately notice the dense, veiny patch of black, much like the color of their claws, sprouting out from their heart, stretching over their shoulders and lower torso and darkening the spaces around it. I can see their ribs when they breathe. I can see how everything connects and matches their face like a complete circuit. I can see the places where their claws blend back into their skin on their forearms. I didn’t know what to expect, but it feels like something sliding into place. They’re so… interesting. Once again, I am grappling with the fact that my first instinct is to reach out and touch them. Oh, god. They’re half-naked. I can see them. They don’t just have a skeleton under their clothes.

… I’ve been alone with them too long. I’m a goddamn mess.

Shima shifts slightly. Anxiously? Again, is that a thing? Do they have actual insecurities? After all this time, this is the thing that does it for them?

“I felt… I could get closer this way,” Shima utters. “To you.” They reach out one of their hands, taking one of mine and pulling it towards them. It stops at the center of the tangle on their chest, right above their heart. Their cold skin prickles mine. “Can you feel that?” Thumping. “My heart.”

“I… guess you’re not that dead,” I reply with a laugh, desperately trying to stave off the fact that I feel like an awkward disaster. It’s foreign. I don’t get like this. I’ve been through a little bit of everything—identity modification, crime, death, grief, sex, limbo—and this is the thing that leaves me lost for words. I don’t get it. The silence stretches on for too long. It’s uncomfortable and I have to break it as soon as possible but no words are leaving my mouth.

So, I pick the easiest and dumbest possible option: kissing them. I get to feel their shoulders and back and neck under my palms as it happens. I get to make a memory of their cold, soft skin on my fingertips and the way that their shoulder blades move when they draw closer, careful not to cut me on their teeth, and the way that they breathe against my upper lip when I absentmindedly graze their side and abdomen. It should have been so easy to break to silence and move on, but something compelled me. Curiosity. Interest. Habit?

Also I’m naked.

“Your hands are warm,” Shima says.

“Your everything is cold.” Cold and giving me goosebumps.

“I’m putting you in the water before this derails.” Shima scoops me up again and starts walking towards the tub. They lower down, bending one knee, gently laying me on the edge like I’m not perfectly capable of moving myself.

Okay, maybe I can’t do that as well as I thought right now.

They start walking away towards their discarded shirt and I impulsively reach out and grab their wrist. When they turn back and give me this look, I glance where I’m holding them and realize I walked into this.

“I was going to get you something to drink,” Shima tells me.

I slide into the water and stare at them blankly. “Get in.”

Shima glances down at their feet and back at me. Maybe they weren’t planning on taking off the bottom half.

I pull my hand back, my eyes darting to their remaining clothes. “Just—” I start, looking to the right towards the wall. My voice gets caught in my throat. “I’ll look this way. Get in behind me. I won’t look.” There’s a pause. I’m not looking to see whatever incredulity is humbly flashing over their face. When I shut my eyes, I start to hear the quiet shuffling of clothes. They step in and the water jostles. They sink in. Shima reaches out to touch my shoulder and my eyes open immediately, a trail of goosebumps shooting up on my skin, and they retract their hand. In whatever configuration they’re sitting, it’s slightly odd and doesn’t entirely fit, especially because they’re trying not to touch me. I don’t turn my head. It’s stifling.

“I didn’t really think this through,” I end up saying, my legs drawn in.

“I know,” they reply. There are a few more beats of silence. I yelp when I suddenly feel their hands on my ribs, pulling me closer beside their legs, which are pressed together to my right. I kind of slip and grab the edge of the tub, landing gracelessly with the back of my head on their collarbone. They breathe into my hair, wrap their arms around my torso and lean against the wall behind them. I think their legs are shaking a little bit. It’s unusual.

Really internalizing that they’re wearing nothing and we are actually skin-to-skin is not doing me any favors right now, but they’re also so… comfortable. I’m gonna take a nap on them.

I’m adrift in quiet thoughts when a particular idea floats in and out of my mind. I don’t have the energy to resist it or deny it. Shima holds me just a bit tighter. Their fingers glide absentmindedly on my abdomen while I swim through the muttering in my head.

It’s nice to have you here.

Is it?

Thanks for not leaving me alone.

What if I were? What if I am?

You’re alone, Kokichi. You always will be.

Shima presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m here,” they say, reaching for one of my hands and interlacing our fingers together. My eyes drift down to them.

Why do you treat me this way?

Why did things turn out this way?

“I am here,” they whisper again. “Rest.” My eyes fall shut and the thought repeats. They raise our hands and kiss my wet knuckles. Their affection has become so slow and methodical.

Do you love me?

What happened to you?

Another hush whistles through their teeth, slightly disjointed in tone. Sickness crawls in the pit of my stomach. My eyes are stinging. I jerk my hand closer to cover my face, trying to squint out of it. It’s burning my throat. Not again.

Do I…

Terror.

Shima’s forehead presses down against my shoulder and they squeeze me with both arms. They’re shaking. It’s almost enough to distract me from my own. They’re so silent, but I can feel wetness dripping down my shoulder. I want to open my mouth. Desperately, I want to think of something to say to blanket the wrenching in my chest. “Trying to infect me with your…” My voice comes out more broken than I expected. “Contagious crying. Well, I’ve developed an immunity, so…” It’s like pathetic choking and I self-consciously rub my throat. Shima gently kisses my neck. It makes matters worse. The spot where their lips touched seeps under my skin and travels through me, burning a trail. A tear escapes my eye and I flinch to wipe it. “It’s pointless. You’ll never win.”

Shima’s voice is quiet. “Thank you for being here,” they say.

I turn my head in their direction, only able to catch a glimpse of their shoulder from this angle. “You? Me? What?” A laugh breaks through my uncooperative voice. “You’re the one who’s here.”

“I wanted you to know.”

I let out a huff. “Sap.” I press my lips together, oddly anxious to turn around and look at them, but I don’t. My heart’s hitting hard against my chest and it won’t slow. I feel like I should say something. Something different. I know it doesn’t really make a difference, but maybe it could. In one swift movement, I grasp their hand again and realize I’m walking into another one of those things that I hate being in the middle of. “… You are here. Got it?”

They tuck their head beside mine. “Yes.”

My scratchy voice is hard to navigate. “If you ever go away… You’ll become the enemy of my whole entire evil organization. Not even you would stand a chance against it. Your… your soul, your life, it’s…” I trail off. It feels weirder and weirder the more I let the words run.

I don’t really mean it, of course.

I don’t.

“Yours,” they finish, whispering in my ear. Heat crawls down my neck.

Ah, fuck.

“… Was gonna say forfeit,” I mumble.

Shima fingers through my hair again, brushing over my scalp. I relax into it almost automatically. “No, you weren’t.” I don’t feel like making any more words. I just breathe a sigh, letting my eyes shut again and head tilt to the side, trying to ignore the way my brain is dancing in circles again, hyper aware of the one behind me who has crept into my mind and body, holds me firm and cares.

Don’t think about it.

I don’t want to know.

[helliontherapscallion]

Privileges (Adrenaline Junkie Part 11)

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: slight description of death/injury/illness, small description of homelessness, slight panic attack

Word count: 2,845

You and Arthur sat at the top of the cliff for a while sitting in silence. Glancing at the sun’s position, you guessed that it’s been a couple of hours. You continued to wait patiently for him to gather his courage that you knew he had. He looked conflicted. 

The wild herds of livestock grazed peacefully below you, filling the silence with various moos and oinks. Various flowers colorfully dotted the green grass with multiple shades of vibrant blues, yellows, whites, and reds. The few clouds that littered the baby blue sky rolled endlessly above you, giving you a sense of peace and entertainment when you tried to make out mobs from the abstract shapes. The breeze lightly blew against your skin making you shiver every now and then from the feeling of it working its way through your feathers and hair. It was a perfect day for flying.

While you were waiting, you took out the snacks and water and handed them to Arthur. He originally didn’t want them, but you insisted he at least drink something today. He needed hydration if he was going to sit under the hot sun for hours. Every time he would take a deep breath (which was often), you would perk up and look at him ready to fully divert your attention towards him, only to look elsewhere when he would sigh. You were starting to lose your patience, but you knew you had to hold out for Arthur. That poor kid looks like he’s been through a lot in such a short amount of time. 

You mindlessly munched on a granola bar. The chocolate and grain danced on your tastebuds in perfect harmony like an old married couple gleefully waltzing at their grandchild's wedding. Washing down the taste with water, you feel the cool liquid slither it’s way down your throat, relieving parts with it’s refreshing properties. You let your mind wander to your brothers.

Technoblade, ever the individualistic, nonconforming anarchist, lived a couple of hours outside the outskirts of the Dream SMP lands. You visited his house once and it was nice, but you really didn’t like the cold. Your metal prosthetic froze to your amputated wing and it took several painful hours of waiting by the fireplace for it to unstick to your feathers. Techno appeared indifferent of the situation, but you knew he cared deep down. He always was a softie for his family members. 

Wilbur was in his element in L’manberg. Leadership came naturally for him, and you were immensely grateful for that. Without him, L’manberg would’ve gone down in history with dishonor. L’manberg was thriving under his just rule. Infrastructure was slowly starting to spread throughout the entirety of the small nation, making it easier to travel. You always flew everywhere, much to the disapproval of Wilbur (“(y/n), can’t you just use the roads I just built?”), so the infrastructure never really affected your daily life. You appreciated that he was working so hard to build his symphony up from measure one to the end. He was truly the heart and soul of his great nation.

Tommy was… well for lack of a better description, Tommy. You were incredibly proud of him, giving up his prized music discs was a gigantic sacrifice for him. It really showed how much he grew up from being the toddler you met a little over a decade ago. Your little brother wreaked havoc in L’manberg, but a good kind of havoc. Tommy and his partner in crime Tubbo were the ones that eased tension during the War. Even after the War, they always actively searched for adventure. They made people smile as they would run past, they knew they were in for a show later on in the day. Tommy and Tubbo gave the nation life outside of its physical growth, they were the morale of the nation. 

You supposed that you were somewhat important to L’manberg, but not as important as your brothers. Sure, they used your inventions to help fight Dream and his goons, but they would’ve been able to do that without your creations. Though, it was satisfying to see the looks on their faces when the L’manbergians whipped out the portable TNT launchers and automatic crossbows to absolutely decimate them. You didn’t really supply L’manberg with physical or morale growth, you were just… there. In your cramped workshop. Tinkering endlessly with inventions that you hoped would make people’s lives easier. 

“(Y/n), I’m ready.”

You jumped a little, turning to him and giving him what you hoped was an encouraging smile. He took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at you.

“It started when I was seven. Mama and Papa were sick. We didn’t have enough money to pay for a doctor, so me and my brother Hugh were trying our best to take care of them. We weren’t good enough though, they died after a couple weeks. 

“People came to take us away from Mama and Papa, but Hugh told me to run away as far as I could. He told me that he’d be right behind me. So, we ran to the woods. He said that he knew a few people that lived there that’d be able to help. We lived with them for three years, they were nice people. 

“One day, they needed supplies so me and Hugh went to go find a cave. The cave we found was really pretty, it had tons of redstone and iron. We went deeper and deeper til we found a huger cave. It had tons of feathers there and some red brown stuff on the walls.” You felt a shiver run down your spine as you realized that those were probably yours. You wondered if they were still down there.

His voice started to get strained and wobbly. “A-and we saw it. Hugh told me to hide and not make any noise so I did and… and it killed him.”

Tears steadily dribbled down Arthur’s freckled cheeks as his lip wobbled and his nose turned as red as his hair. He was starting to hyperventilate. You reached over and pulled Arthur into a tight winged hug. You gently rubbed his back and whispered reassurances into his ear.

“It’s alright Arthur, please breathe with me. In,” you took a deep breath, “and out.” You let out the breath. Even though his breath was steady a few minutes later, you still kept him in a tight hug. It absolutely devastated you that he went through so much in his short life. He started sobbing again.

“(Y/n), it took his soul! Hugh’s still down there with it!” He blubbered out.Your hand froze on his shoulder. 

What. It can’t take souls, could it? That’s not possible, right? …Right? You were going to have to ask Philza about it, but Arthur is your first and only priority right now. His loud sobs were slightly muffled by your shoulder as you felt your shirt get slightly wet with his tears. You did your best to comfort him, but you weren’t used to comforting a child that just lost his only family. 

“I’ll never let that happen to you again. I promise.”

You sat with Arthur protectively wrapped in your arms until you saw that the sun was going to set in the next few minutes. Not good, not good at all. You looked down at Arthur, his eyes were closed in a deep sleep, taking deep shuddering breaths in and out. Good, you needed to get him out of there and you didn’t want to traumatize him anymore than he already is by showing him how mobs react when you’re near them. 

You hastily packed up your stuff before taking off as quickly as you could without waking the sleeping boy. You flew as fast as you could through the air, keeping a tight grip on Arthur as you cut through the darkening sky. You could see zombies, skeletons, spiders, and the occasional enderman below you. Luckily, they didn’t notice you as you flew overhead. 

Just as the lit up house entered your line of sight, you felt something whiz past you accompanied by a strong gust of wind. Looking down, you realized that it was a skeleton. It shooting an arrow garnered the attention of the surrounding mobs as they turned their heads to look directly at you. Shit.

You pushed yourself to fly faster and twisted your body so that if an arrow were to land, it would hit you and not Arthur. You felt the air around you shift as a myriad of arrows were shot at you. Dodging the best you could, you glanced down at Arthur. Still asleep. Good, he didn’t need to see this.

Getting closer to the house, you lowered yourself to the ground fully and pushed your feet against the grass, running for dear life as you heard a fwoosh of air right next to your ear. FInally, you reached the doorknob and swung the door open. Flinging yourself and Arthur inside, you slammed the door behind you, hearing the banging of arrows hitting the wood. 

You leaned against the door panting and closed your eyes, clutching Arthur closer to you in relief. You opened your eyes and peered down at his face. Still asleep? How much of a deep sleeper was this kid? Maybe he was just extremely emotionally tired from earlier. That’s probably how he impossibly slept through all that. 

You pushed yourself off the door and headed up to Wilbur’s, well Arthur’s room so you could put him to bed. You peeled the covers back and placed him gently on the mattress. You covered his body with the heavy comforter and tucked him in. His face visibly relaxed and a slight smile quirked onto his lips. You took a deep breath and stood there watching him. That was certainly a close one. Way too close for your tastes. You almost got him killed because you lost track of time. 

You swept the bangs out of his eyes and left the room, gently closing the door behind you. You tiredly drug yourself down the stairs to the kitchen so you could at least grab a small snack before passing out in the comfort of your bed. Today was just not your day. At least you’d get a decent night’s sleep tonight. 

Walking into the kitchen, you saw Philza sitting at the table looking at you with… was that relief or anger? Or a mix? He stood up and quickly walked over to you. You tensed up, fully expecting to get yelled at, only to feel him hug you. You melted into his touch and felt small tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You really needed a hug after today.

“Don’t ever do that again. I don’t care that you’re an adult, do you know how worried I was? I thought you and Arthur got hurt. He’s just a child and you’re on your last life (y/n). You need to be more careful.”

You didn’t say anything. You just buried your face into his shoulder and let out a silent sob. “I was so scared Arthur was gonna get hurt, I didn’t know what to do.”

The emotion you were holding in all day from sleep deprivation and lack of nutrients completely spilled out. You felt pathetic, crying in your dad’s arms like you were a kid again. He rubbed soothing circles on your back and led you to the couch where you both sat in each other’s arms. Once you calmed down, you pulled away and wiped at your eyes, facing away from him so he didn’t see your weakness. 

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t sleep at all last night and everything just… came out.”

“Hey,” he chided gently, making you look at him, “don’t apologize for feeling emotions. You were bottling it all up weren’t you?”

You nodded shamefully. “...And what did I tell you and your brothers about holding it in?”

“Not to do it.” Your croaky voice cracked out. 

He smiled at you. “That’s my kid. Did you talk to Arthur?”

“Yeah. He’s actually alone, Dad. He doesn’t have anyone out there for him. And he… he said that they saw my feathers and blood down there on the walls and floor. Saw his brother get killed right in front of him… mentioned something about The Warden stealing his brother’s soul? It can’t do that right?”

You were met with silence. “...Right? Dad, you’re scaring me.”

“Yes, The Warden takes the souls of it’s dead. It’s how they live so long, they trap the souls in their chests and feast on the lifespans in rations until the soul is completely integrated into it’s very being.”

So that’s what the screaming white wisps that haunted your nightmares were. They were the souls of the dead. They were screaming in agony when The Warden killed you, so you thought they still held onto their humanity. You remembered hearing thousands of screams echoing off from the stony walls of the dark cave. Shuttering, you remembered how some of the souls stared at you in desperation and despair. 

“...So the souls are trapped with it forever?”

He nodded, not looking at you. The Warden killed you in your first life, why were you still… still you? It doesn’t make sense. 

You swallowed thickly. “Then why didn’t it take mine?”

“I don’t know hun, I wish I could tell you why. I thought you died for good before you respawned. I thought it took your soul.” His voice cracked slightly at the end.

You pulled him into a hug. “It didn’t and I’m still here. That’s the important part, Dad. I’m still here.”

Continuing to give him comfort, you trailed off as you remembered your first death. What could’ve prevented it from taking your soul like the rest? You blanched thinking about what it would’ve been like to be stuck with The Warden indefinitely. Trapped and suffering until it was fully integrated into it’s monstrous body for the rest of eternity. It sounded like hell on Earth. Before today, you thought death was the absolute worst outcome, but you were mistaken. You were given the mercy, no the privilege, of death that day. 

Was it because of the stone platform you landed on? That must’ve been it, there’s no other way you could’ve respawned if you landed anywhere else; the stone platform was the only space you could’ve landed that was far enough above the ground to bleed out. You remembered how your shattered ribs would grind together as you endlessly sobbed and the hot blood dripping off from your forehead and wing warming up your rapidly cooling form. Dying like that was a privilege compared to what the lost souls of the miners endured. You didn’t know how long they’ve been in there, but you still would rather die like that a thousand times over than have to be trapped inside that thing for all of eternity. 

Your thought process was interrupted as Philza pulled away and wiped the tears from his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was slightly blotchy, it’s been a while since you’ve seen him like that. He’s always been strong for you and your brothers. 

“...Why don’t we grab some dinner before we go to bed, I assume you didn’t eat…?”

His sheepish look gave you all the answers you needed. “There’s some leftover mushroom soup we could eat.”

You stood up and gave him a bright smile. “Let’s dig in then, I’m starving!”

He laughed as you pulled him off the couch and into the kitchen. “Did you eat anything after breakfast?”

You paused slightly then continued to pour the soup into two bowls. “...That’s not important.”

He pursed his lips. “(Y/n).”

“I had like a quarter of a granola bar if that counts.”

“(Y/n) you went through the day with only half your breakfast and a few cups of coffee in your system?”

“I know, I know, not healthy. But that still doesn’t take away from the fact that you didn’t eat dinner either.” You slid the bowl over to him across the table. 

His eyes narrowed in thought before he sighed in defeat. “Touché.”

You snorted and started to eat your soup. You hummed as the earthy flavor shimmied around in your mouth comforting you after today’s events. You automatically felt better after eating. You always found comfort in food. Before you knew it, both you and Philza were done with your dinners and were leaning back in your chairs. You felt your eyes start to droop against your will.

“Why don’t you go to bed and I can clean up. You look like you’re gonna pass out.” He snickered. You hummed in agreement, too tired to argue and murmured out a quiet “thanks. G’night, love ya.” You drug your feet up the stairs and plop down on your bed, passing out instantly as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

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@bongwaterflavoredgatorade  @kakamiissad  @jayistrash4  @lifestylesleep  @speedymaximoff  @sun-shark-tooth  @appetiteofapeoplepleaser  @lestrangenymph  @kinismanditory  @dragons-lurk-here  @rinzyx05  @the-wandering-pan-ace  @sparkling-gayyyy  @angelic-scent  @shinipii  @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander  @izzydimensional  @used-avocado  @laura--444  @wing-non  @lovely-echoo  @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual  @mysteryartisticwriter  @momo-has-a-gun  @mosstea-png  @w-0-r-n-n  @v-kouya

[the-broken-truth]

Bullet Meets Blade - Mafia Donna Beneviento x Male Assassin Reader

Broken Truth: I saw this incredible artwork + headcanon by @donnabenevientosimpingzone (Link) & this idea was instantly born! I hope they like it. Now, Let the words weave together!!!

[On A Moonless Night]

"Lady Beneviento, are you in position?" A female voice called out from the earpiece in the raven-haired woman's right ear before cutting off with static.

"Yes, Mother Miranda." The young woman said as she kneeled on the grey stone roof and placed down a slim black metal case with a crest of the sun with a crescent moon upon the right side of its face; the lib flipped open, revealing a sniper in pieces at the woman began to but it together.

In Romania - there is a law, it's not spoken but it is clear to anyone who wants to live to see another day or take another breath. This rule?

Do not cross the Head Priestess.

There is a high power over this city and that power doesn't belong to the mayor or the police; that power belongs to Mother Miranda & her 4 Lords.

No one really knew who she was or where she came from but the day she came to Romania, everything on its head - Gang Lords began dying one by one, the local police were less involved in certain cases and were quieter, the previous mayor was found dead in his chair and the message was written on the wall: This city belongs to the High Priestess... and that rule was never challenged. Mother Miranda ruled over the city for years and that city, and the power were divided between 4 Lords - the adopted children of the High Priestess.

The Eldest was The Countess - Alcina Dimitrescu. She was the owner of the Dimitrescu Winery and was famous for her Sanguis Virginis or Maiden's Blood Wine; it was unknown if she really used the blood of virgins to make it but it was very expensive to buy and no one who crossed her was ever seen again. She had 3 Daughters - Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela and they were just as cruel and crafty as their mother. Their Family Motto: A Rat Can't Escape The Dragon's Claws.

Then there was Salvatore Moreau - The Fisherman of the Reservoir. Anyone who ever talked to him would say that he was kind and compassionate but he was still a Lord. When someone would anger him or speak poorly of his family - mainly his mother - they were...well...sleeping with the fishes.

The youngest son & the most dangerous - in most people's opinion - was Karl Heisenberg a.k.a The Iron Stallion. He owned the city's industrial section and he was known for taking people right off the streets who were silent and boiled alive in molten metal.

And the last lord?

She was here right now - assembling a sniper on a dark roof.

She was Donna Beneviento - The Dollmaker - while she was a lord, she wasn't the current head of her Mafia. When her family was killed, she was a child - locked away and experimented on - and far too young to lead the Beneviento Mafia and was hidden away but Mother Miranda saw her potential and gave her use as the Silent Sniper.

Tonight's target was a traitor who spoke to the police to try to give them information about The Lords and Mother Miranda - information worth dying for. Miranda sent Donna to silence him.

"Assembled and aiming." Donna said as she moved to the side of the building and aimed for the window of the target - who was currently sitting at his table with stacks of paper in this hands.

"Good - take the shoot and make sure to recover the information." Mother Miranda said to her adopted daughter.

"I've already sent Angie in; she'll retrieve the info when I take the shot," Donna said as she looked through the scoop with her unmarked eyes - her lollipop moving from cheek to cheek. Her finger was gliding over the trigger when suddenly the lights in the apartment were blacked...

Donna heard the target gasp in sudden realization he was in the dark and then...

Silence...

"Donna? Donna, what's going on?" Mother Miranda said from the earpiece.

"The lights went out. Wait, they're flicking back on again." Donna said as she looked at her scoop and when her vision became clear, her eyes widened - the target was dead, slumped over the desk with his throat sliced open and his blood staining the table; what's worse...

"The Information is gone!" Donna hissed in the earpiece.

"What?!" Mother Miranda said.

"The target is dead and the info is gone; I need to get in there, something isn't right." Donna said as she rose to her feet and made her way to the target's apartment as silent as a mouse. It was empty and the only light one was over the target, she sneaked over and examined the corpse when she heard a throat clearing from behind. She turned on her heel and pointed at her gun at...a man?

He was dressed in a black suit with his hands behind his back and a wolf skeleton mask on his face. He just stood there and didn't say anything.

"Where is the information?" Donna questioned with her eye narrowed.

"Donna Beneviento - 2nd Adopted Child of Mother Miranda - Last Living of the Beneviento Bloodline - A.K.A The Dollmaker." The man spoke.

"You know too much." Donna glared at him was about to pull the trigger when he moved his right hand from behind his back to show...

"Angie!" Donna said.

The large crescent scarred rat was in a birdcage - fear in her eyes.

"Let her go!" Donna demanded as she pointed her gun at the man.

"Calm down, Dollmaker; I didn't hurt her. I would never do that." He said as he placed the cage on the ground, "I just came for this." He held up the folder containing the information in his other hand. Donna's eye widened and she raised her gun again to shoot but the top of her hand was suddenly sliced open and she flinched in pain, giving the man enough time to turn tail and run out the door. Donna looked at the blood dripping and the knife in the wall behind her.

Who was he?

Why did he want the information?

She needed to talk to Mother Miranda.

But first, get Angie out of that cage.

[End]

[chenziee]

For your open prompts, what about frobin with an island date night? Please?

Thank you for the request and thank you so much for being patient with me <3 I hope you like your fics with extra fluff :)

—————

Lucky

[ Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi ]

The longer the Straw Hat crew had spent on Fish-man Island, the more interesting the place seemed to Robin. At the very bottom of the ocean, yet there was fresh air, sunlight, and even a forest, all blended in with deep sea life. Even inside the Ryuuguu castle, it was like two different worlds collided and mixed with each other until they found the perfect balance. She could walk past her crewmates who were sleeping soundly on the dry cushions, surrounded by air, and only a moment later, she’s be swimming in sea water, carefully maneuvering her bubble between the fish- and mer-people. It was… fun.

“Is our super archeologist going somewhere?” someone asked quietly when she finally made her way to the exit of the party hall.

Robin glanced at the table in the corner where Franky, Nami, Zoro and prince Fukaboshi—four of the last few people who were still awake—were drinking and chatting with each other quietly as to not disturb anyone who was sleeping around them, exhausted from the long battle and the victory celebration that followed. Robin smiled when Nami started patting the cushion next to her but she shook her head at the navigator’s silent invitation to join them. As tempting as spending time with her crew was, after all the energy and excitement of the day, Robin needed a breather. And more importantly, she wanted to go look at the island’s Poneglyph one last time.

“Just going to take a walk to the forest. But thank you,” she said, chuckling at the pout Nami gave her.

Immediately following her words, Franky gulped down whatever was left in his glass and got up, grinning as he looked at her. “I’ll go with you. I didn’t get to see much of the place since I was at the Sunny the whole time.”

“Then I shall go as well. I’d be a poor host otherwise,” Fukaboshi joined in, readying himself to get up as well, only to cry out in surprise when Nami grabbed his ear to pull him back down.

“Get a hint, man,” Zoro sighed, shooting Fukaboshi a deadpan look when the merman opened his mouth to ask Nami what was wrong.

Robin only laughed quietly, amused by the blush that had soon found its way onto the prince’s face. How very cute. Before the poor man could start apologizing, however, Robin simply nodded at the three still seated, wishing them a good night and turning around to leave. She wasn't surprised to find Franky already holding the door open for her, yet it still made warmth spread in her chest and her expression melt into a gentle smile.

Sometimes, she wondered if anyone who didn't know the man would ever expect him to be such a gentleman; his large form and loud, eccentric personality seemed to be in direct opposition to his sweet side. Yet somehow, it always felt so natural for him to do small things like hold the door open for her or ask if she wanted a cup of coffee—coffee which he could still make exactly the way she liked it, even after two years. Robin would never stop appreciating the little gestures.

“Thank you,” Robin said softly as she passed him.

Franky grinned in response, giving her a playful thumbs-up before following her through the door and closing it behind them carefully.

—————

While they walked slowly around the forest an hour later, Robin thought to herself that she would probably never get tired of watching the fish swim overhead. Especially at night, when the bioluminescent creatures shone like stars in the night sky; some as tiny and as unmoving as on the surface, some much larger and moving so fast it was impossible to properly follow. There even seemed to be a particular kind of seaking with flickering markings that looked distinctly like a skeleton horse devouring a screaming child which was just fascinating.

Usopp had told her he didn’t see it and that it looked more like a trio of flowers to him but she was positive she was right.

The corners of her mouth twitched upward at the memory. She had missed moments like that over the past two years; missed the looks of horror and exasperated groans when she voiced her theories, missed Luffy’s wild counter-ideas and the laughter that followed. She had truly missed her crew.

And she had missed Franky.

“—and did you see how super General Franky is?” Franky asked at the close of his excited recount of the battle earlier that day, after he had finished marvelling over all the amazing growth and new strengths of the rest of the crew. And he was right about all of it, too; it was honestly almost unbelievable how much stronger everyone had gotten. Franky included.

But she still couldn’t help but tease him a little bit. “The technology is impressive but what was the point in the end?”

Franky gasped dramatically at that, clutching at his chest as if she had stabbed him in the heart. “What do you mean, what was the point?” the cyborg asked in a highly offended tone. “It’s the dream, Robin! The romance! It’s the super docking robot that almost every man and woman dreams off!”

Robin had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing at the sight of Franky waving his giant hands around as he explained to her about men’s romance and ‘super parts’ that make up an ‘even more super whole.’ Robin honestly didn’t understand what was so amazing about any of this but looking at him, listening to him talk like this… he really was adorable sometimes. She didn’t get it, but she was happy that he had been able to make his dream come to life.

“I guess at least you’re docking just robot parts and not trying to make innocent bystanders do it,” Robin joked, not fighting the smile that made its way to her lips at the memory of Thriller Bark.

“You’ll never drop that one, will you?” Franky sighed, shaking his head at her with a disappointed frown on his face—frown which was betrayed by the amused glint in his eyes and the small grin that he failed to conceal.

“Nope,” Robin agreed immediately, chuckling when Franky cursed in response.

“We would have defeated Oars if you had just docked with us, you know,” he huffed.

Robin begged to differ; there was no way their stupid little human robot would have been able to do anything about Luffy’s zombie back then. And most importantly, the very idea of them asking her to participate in that ridiculous plan still made her shudder. Honestly, what even was going on in these boys’ heads? It was completely beyond her understanding. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to completely hate it. As stupid and embarrassing as their ideas were, it made her happy to see them have so much fun.

As long a they did it without her, at least.

Robing couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Franky had turned away from in the most over-the-top dramatic fashion, before the sound that turned into quiet, genuine, happy laughter as soon as Franky whipped back around, a finger pressing on his nose to make his hair  shoot out of his head only for it to lose all shape and fall down to frame his face. He completed the dejected look with his best puppy eyes and a huge, sad frown.

 Yeah, Robin really had missed him.

“I really missed your laugh,” Franky said off-handedly as if reading her thoughts after he had made his hair retreat back into his skull, however that worked.

There was a soft smile on his face now, one that Robin returned easily when she echoed the sentiment, “And I really missed your craziness.”

“You wound me, ma’am,” Franky laughed, wrapping an arm around Robin’s shoulders and pulling her closer.

“Are you saying I’m wrong?” Robin asked in a mock-offended tone, although the amusement was clear in her voice. She leaned into Franky’s side then, enjoying the warmth he provided despite all the metal inside him. She briefly wondered if the wires might have had been overheating and was close to an explosion.

Oh well, she only thought to herself and, instead of pulling away for safety reasons, raised her hand to gently hold onto Franky’s large fingers resting on her shoulder..

Franky laughed following her question, loud and unrestrained and so very sweet. “Never,” he said after a moment. “My beautiful, super archeologist is never wrong.”

Robin shook her head at his words, her own quiet chuckle accompanying the movement. This man really was too precious, too sweet, and she still wasn’t sure if she deserved him. But he was so honest and unwavering in his support, his love, right from the start that it was impossible to oppose him and even more impossible to not give in, to not fall for him as well. Not when he was so patient with her fears and insecurities right from the beginning, back ever since their shared train ride to Enies Lobby. Not when he showed nothing but respect, admiration and affection to everyone he cared about.

She truly was lucky.

Noticing that they had finally arrived at the Poneglyph, Robin stopped in her tracks, glancing up to look at the man next to her. He was looking back at her questioningly, waiting for her to collect her thoughts. Robin herself wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but in the end, she decided it didn’t matter.

Slowly, she reached up to touch Franky’s cheek, guiding his face down. Franky didn’t protest in the least, following her lead as he leaned down enough for Robin to be able stand up on her tiptoes and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered when they separated, a smile playing on her lips.

Luckily, Franky seemed to understand what she was trying to convey; he simply grinned back before he grabbed her hand to bring it to his lips and kissing it in return. “You’re welcome,” he simply muttered then, winking at her before letting go, instead handing her her small backpack which was full of her notes, notebooks and pens.

Robin didn’t even notice he was carrying it for her; she hadn’t even thought to bring it.

Franky really did think of everything, didn’t he?

Huffing out a small laugh, Robin accepted the offering gratefully, thanking the cyborg once more before she left his side to study the ancient text closer. Now that she had talked to king Neptune about it, knew who Joy Boy and Poseidon were, she was sure she would be able to look at the letter with a new, more accurate perspective. Adding another piece to the puzzle that was the Rio Poneglyph.

She couldn’t wait to see the finished picture, to learn the true history of the world they lived in. Couldn’t wait to hear all the words the ancient people had left behind for her. Only three years ago, she was giving up hope that she’d ever learn anything; she still vividly remembered the pain and despair and frustration she felt when she had the Alabasta poneglyph. Yet, here she was now, standing right next to a raw fragment of the emotions the people of 800 years ago had felt. She was going to find it. She was going to collect the words one by one and carry them to the last island and find the truth of the void century.

And she was so incredibly lucky to have her friends and the man she loved right next to her, helping her carry the pieces all the way through.

—————

[ AO3 | Ko-Fi ]

[ray-ray-writings]

maybe a drabble of the reader traveling to the nether for supplies and getting corner trapped in a fortress? like they have to surround themselves with dirt and the wither skeletons are like breaking it? so the reader has lost all hope and is like messaging sleepybois on the communicator being like “ill miss you all and love you all” and basically preparing for death but phil comes just in time and brings them back to safety? (bonus if the reader is on their last life!)

Technoblade needed blaze rods and powder for potions, but he just couldn’t seem to get a break to actually go into the nether and get it himself. So being the good sibling you are, you offered to go for him. He agreed and gave you some weapons and a fire resistance potion so that you would be safe. So you say goodbye to your brothers and your father and you head off into the nether. The trip to the fortress goes smoothly. You wave at all the pigmen and the piglins let you pass without problems. Once you’re inside the fortress, you drink the fire resistance potion your brother gave you and you get to work. You camp the blaze spawners and take no damage as the fling their fireballs at you. You get so into your grind, that you forget about all of the other mobs in the fortress, a huge mistake on your end. 

As you’re killing blaze, something hits you from behind and you’re thrown forward onto the ground, you’re back stinging and your whole body just feels bad. You manage to look at your arm and you immediately notice that your usually red hearts have turned black and are slowly deteriorating. I manage to scramble to your feet and turn around to face the wither skeleton. It raises it’s sword at you to try and take another strike but you manage to block it and quickly kill the mob. As you look in your inventory, you realize that you have forgotten to bring food and that you won’t be able to get your hearts back up. So deciding you have enough rods for now, you quickly begin to book it out of the fortress. Unfortunately for you, as you’re running down a corridor, you run head first into some wither skeletons guarding the path. There are only two, but you know you can’t take them both. 

So you turn on your heel and run the other way. The clatter of bones that sounds behind you let’s you know that you are now being chased. You manage to twist and turn down the long hallways of the fortress, but in doing so you begin to get lost until at one point you run straight into a deadend. You turn around and find the wither skeletons closing in on you. So you do the only thing you think is logical. You pull out some cobblestone that you had grabbed and begin building around you, a small little box to close yourself in. You get most of it done, but just as you’re about to place the last block. One of the stone swords surges through the gap and slashes your stomach. You let out a cry of pain, but manage to bat the skeleton’s back and close off the whole. You pull out a small torch for a little bit of light in your small box. The main hope is that the skeleton’s will get bored and just go on their way, but the sound of something hitting the cobblestone fills your ears and you know that hope is hopeless. You manage to check your arm again, and a small sob escapes your lips. You’re down to a single heart with no food, no way to heal, and no way out. You know that this is your last life and once these wither skellys break down your barrier, you’re dead and done for. There is nothing you can do… All you can do is reach out and say goodbye. 

You manage to pull your communicator out of your pocket and type a message to your father. “Things went horribly wrong. I’m trapped by wither skellys. I’ve surrounded myself with cobblestone but it seems that they’re going to break it down and kill me. I have no food and no way out…. I love you so so much dad. Tell the boys I love them too. I’m going to miss you a lot, but don’t miss me too much. I’m so sorry I let you down.” and you hit send and just wait for your impending final death. 

Back in the overworld, Philza is helping Techno prep to brew potions while Wilbur and Tommy argue over some little thing. He feels his communicator buzz and for a moment he considers just ignoring it and getting to it later because he’s in the middle of something. But then something from deep within him tells him to look at it and his heart stops when he reads the message. He immediately steps away from the brewing stand causing Techno’s head to shoot up, “What?” He asks, really curious as to what his father had just received. “We’ve got to go now” Philza exclaims before rushing over to the closet where he stored his armor and weapons and piling them on his body, shoving some food and a healing potion in his inventory, before rushing to the door. “Where are we going and why are we in such a rush?” Tommy whines as he drags his feet to the door. “NOW!” Philza simply booms, startling all three sons into action before he sprints out the door and to the nether portal. The three boys jump into action and grab their stuff, struggling to put it on as they run after Philza. They catch up to him and all go through the portal together. As they’re running through hell toward the fortress, the boys manage to get Philza to tell them what’s happening, but it’s very broken up but they manage to piece it together, “Y/N. Fortress. Trapped. Low health.” The four buckle down into a full sprint and don’t stop until they're inside the nether brick castle. 

So for the sake of the story we’re going to say that when you sent the message to Philza, it also showed him your coordinates. So Philza knows exactly where to go and with Philza leading and Techno following behind, the mobs that sprinkled the hallways didn’t even get to blink before they were dead. With the pace they were moving, the four found the deadend rather quickly and just in time too. The two skeletons had almost broken through the cobble when the four found them. Just a few more hits and they would have been through. Philza sees red and charges forward the only thought in his head is to kill the things that dare hurt his family. The wither skeletons don’t even know what is happening. They’re dead before they can even shift their agro. Once their dead, Philza lets himself take a few breaths to calm down before dropping his sword and pulling out his pickaxe and carefully hitting the cobble away to reveal you behind the walls, covered in blood looking completely out of it. 

You’re so out of it you don’t even realize what’s happening. You don’t realize that the sounds of the wither skeletons tried to break the cobble had stopped and the clatter of bones had quit as well. So when the light of the nether pours in from a hole in your cobble wall you just think that it’s the end for you. It’s not until strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a warm chest do you realize that you’re safe, that you’re father had gotten your message and had come to save you. Sobs began escaping your lips. You’re so tired, and in pain, and were so scared that it all just comes crashing down on you at once. ‘I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re going to be just fine,” Philza murmurs in your hair as he tries to rub your back. But you let out a hiss as he accidentally runs his hand over the large bleeding gash that one of the wither skeletons left. Philza pulls you away from him and examines you and quickly jumps into action. He lays you down on the nether brick and instructs the other three to keep an eye out while he stablizies you. He quickly pulls out the food and the potion he stuffed in his pockets. Philza uncorks the pinkish potion and tips it back and helps you swallow all of its contents. Once that is down, he carefully helps you eat some of the things he brought with him. After you’re finished, he grabs your arm and watches as the red hearts stop shaking and the number of red hearts slowly goes back up. When you’re back up to about 3/4s health, Philza helps you stand up. The health potion has made you feel a lot better, but you still ache and you know that when it wears off there will be hell to pay. So it’s best if they get you back to the over world asap. So Philza has one of your arms over his shoulder and calls Tommy over to support you on the other side. He decides that they’ll need Techno and Wilbur to defend them on the way out. “Okay. Let’s go” Philza calls before taking slow steps forward, making sure to move at a pace you were comfortable with. 

It takes much longer than it ever has to get back to the portal and back to the overworld, but no one complains about the slow pace, not even Tommy. Even the child seems to be very worried about your health and safety. Once back in the overworld, Wilbur runs ahead of you to prep. He puts a sheet over the couch so you could sit down and be taken care of without getting blood all over the cushions and blankets. Wilbur also sets up all of the medical supplies they’ll need to clean your cuts and bandage them properly. 

When you get home, Philza takes care of you. He cleans up the blood and bandages both of the cuts before giving you more food to eat. He doesn’t let you get off of the couch for many hours until he’s absolutely sure that you’re okay. He actually spends a lot of that time cuddled up next to you on the couch as well. Philza just has to hold you for a while because you really scared him. He just has to reassure himself that he in fact got there in time and that you’re safe in his arms. Philza tells you he loves you probably 30 times in the span of 5-6 hours because he just wants to make sure you know. And trust me, you do know. Not everyone would drop what they were doing to come to literal hell just to save you. But Philza did. Your dadza did. And if that doesn’t prove that he loves you, i don’t know what does. 

[nincompoopydoo]

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?

( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.

A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.

WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.

The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.

You turn your head away and focus on the road.

A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.

The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.

Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.

As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”

You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.

“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.

-

Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.

“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.

He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.

And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.

“Are you alright?”

It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.

Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.

You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.

Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.

“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”

Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.

He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”

Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.

Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.

You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”

“You’ve done a lot for him too.”

A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”

It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.

“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.

“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

-

It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.

He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.

It’s from you.

Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.

A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.

He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.

Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.

He loves you.

Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.

But what do you really want, Bruce?

TAGLIST

@raineeace

[kayr0ss]

Hands that Remember [AO3 Link]

[Horizon Zero Dawn, Elisabet Sobeck Lives, Found Family, Mother-Daughter Feelings, GAIA is recovering, Ereloy]

Summary: Aloy saw the recordings, felt their grief over the death of their culture - the loss of their identity. Ted Faro had blown away the light meant to guide humanity through darkness - but she was willing to risk it all to take it back. To bring APOLLO back.  It wasn't the first time that the world asked her for a miracle, but it bargained with a miracle of its own: This time - she didn't have to do it alone.

[Wherein Elisabet Sobeck returns, GAIA is recovering, Erend is done waiting around, and Aloy discovers a family she's never had before to help lift the weight of the world off her shoulders.]

---

Chapter 1: Resurfacing

It was endless.

The dust and sand reminded him of the canyons north of Meridian—but it seemed harsher.  Endless, expansive. Flat. He’d lost sight of All-Mother Mountain days ago and soon even the icy northern peaks of the Cut had fallen behind the horizon. All that was around him were rocks and packed earth.

Clouds of dust rose from under his footsteps, caught in a wind swooping over from further west. He wondered if they would reach the end of the world before the end of this desert. Did it just… stop? Was there an edge where everything ceased to be, a void down below ready to consume anything unfortunate enough to travel just a bit too far?

He grunted at his thoughts. Way too poetic. Been hanging around too many Carja these days—and not enough ale to drown out all the needless chatter.

What was Aloy doing out here anyway?

Still, he pressed on with gritted teeth, pulling up the fabric of his scarf above his nose. There was shelter up ahead. The faint purple glow he was following led him straight down its path: a ruin of the Old Ones full of rusting metal and crumbling rock. There were a few trees in the vicinity, tall and shooting straight up from the ground as though they were arrows.

“Must’ve taken shelter here,” he grumbled to himself.

It was a short trek to reach the threshold of the ruins. There was an archway holding a dilapidated sign, looking as if a strong kick to the base would be enough to knock it over. For a minute he entertained the thought, but what for?

A pile of metal junk lies near the perimeter of the building—one of those rectangular containers, similar to those dumped by the Old Ones in the scrapyard near Free Heap. The building itself was covered in vines and… flowers? That’s when he noticed the grass by his feet. It was lush and green, much like in the Embrace, and where plant life thrives it means—

“Water.”

He picked up his pace, falling into a jog. The journey had taken a toll on him. He was glad to have kept some empty water skins on hand—a fresh refill and his store of dried meats would be more than enough to last him the walk back. It was a small comfort against the mounting restlessness that clawed at the back of his mind, the feeling that he was never going to catch up with her at the rate he was going. He wondered if he’d tracked Aloy down this far west only to have her meet him on the road—already on the way back.

At least he hoped she was. Coming back, that is. He shook his head. Not the best time to think about that.

Further inspection revealed no machines in sight. Odd. Did Aloy clear the way already? Or was there something else, something that kept them away? The thought was unnerving, but he kept his hammer stowed away at his back. Couldn’t pick up any threats, anyway. No mines either, he nodded to himself. Stalkers could be ruled out.

He looked up towards the building. It was worn down, only the haunting twisted metal of its skeleton left standing, rubble littered at the base. “Probably fed a whole thunderjaw into a forge to build this one.” He chortled. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself. Right. Water.”

He followed the way to a patch where the growth was thicker. “Huh.” He paused, frowning. There were purple flowers arranged in a triangle too perfect to be natural. Some sort of stone seating structure was in the center and—

“Fire and spit!” he sputtered out, war-hammer pulled at the ready while he awkwardly regained his footing after nearly tripping. For some reason, even in the heat of battle he decided he didn’t want to step on the violet blooms that seemed so dainty and beautiful.

Was that… a person?

His frown deepened, brows knitting together as he looked over some sort of machine suit. It reminded him of the material Aloy had crafted over standard Nora leathers. He gently prodded at the suit with the end of his hammer’s grip. No movement. The overgrowth consuming it was an indication that it’d been sitting there for, well, a while.

He stepped in a little closer, laying a hand along the suit’s shoulder to dust it away. Cold. He recoiled.

Cold as death.

For a second or two he considered scavenging the strange machine-suit for parts, but quickly dismissed the thought when he realized there might be someone… inside. He stepped back, putting down his hammer. Oseram were delvers, not grave robbers.

I should probably go. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling intrusive and out of place, but one last look over the suit made him shake his head. Was this their home? He tried to imagine what the ruins might have looked before. Like Meridian, perhaps?

The person looked peaceful. Content. But it looked like a lonely way to go.

“You, uh…” he set a heavy gloved hand on the suit’s shoulder. “Have a good rest.”

The stillness didn’t last for very long. As he lifted his hand a cloud of cold, frigid gas began to leak from the small slits along the suit’s shoulders and joints.

The focus Aloy gifted him began to buzz, in sync with the deep onset of frantic panic at the pit of his stomach. By the forge did he break something? He stumbled backwards, hand coming up to tap his focus. Purple lights sprung to life—a spattering of odd blinking symbols and words that were enough to disorient him. Circles of light hovered highlighted portions of the suit, bringing up numbers and flashing words—counting down with urgency.

[WARNING:  Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Atmospheric Seal Compromised]

"Seal?" What was that supposed to mean? He frowned. Too sober for this.

A disembodied voice buzzed into his ear—eerie and inhuman, like how the Shadow Carja’s god HADES sounded, except not quite as threatening. A woman’s voice.

[Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Oxygen Supply—Depleted. Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Potable Liquid Tank—Depleted]

There was a chilling pause.

[External Personnel Detected. Assessment: User of FAS Standard-Issue FOCUS Unit Number ZERO-ONE-ONE-THREE - Assistance Required. Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“What am I—?!” He looked around in a panic, feeling out of his element. Was it talking to him? This was the sort of thing Aloy was good at! “What am I supposed to do?!”

[Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“You already said that.” He grumbled back, frustrated. Does that mean this thing—this…Old One—was still alive? Upon closer inspection he could see it: frost crawling out of the vents. Cold. Still as cold as death.

He couldn’t believe it. Frozen in time.

[Stand-by for assisted reanimation.]

He reached out towards the blinking lights across the rectangular badge on the suit’s odd chest plate. It responded to his touch with purple lights blinking into living words floating across his fingertips. He gasped.

He recognized that name.

[Disengaging Cryostasis Protocol. Stand-by for assisted reanimation. Projection: ninety-three minutes to thermal homeostasis.]

--

“Captain, what happened?”

Voices. Too far away. Or were they nearby? Damn. She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t even open her eyes. It was cold. So fucking cold—colder than Nevada had any right to be.

“Get blankets! Anything! Beladga, got any shirts you can spare?”

Why was everyone in a panic? Had she fallen asleep in the control center? Huh. She didn’t recall Travis sounding nearly as gruff as that.

Travis? The others—

She… she had a job to do. A mission. What was it? Everything felt distant—disconnected. She vaguely realized she that she was shivering but why? She tried to call out but realized that she was physically unable to speak, her throat feeling dry as sandpaper. Coughing erratically, she noticed that she was partially intubated with a sort of breathing apparatus.

[Seventeen minutes to thermal homeostasis. Please prepare for disengagement of auxiliary respirator.]

An automated voice was buzzing into her ear through her focus. She could feel her senses turning, along with the slight mobility of her limbs. It seems she was being carried—or rather, being laid down onto something soft. There were footsteps. Movements. The voices were hushed, secretive and confused. There was a soft yellow light through the ambiguous blur of color that swam around her vision.

[Auxiliary respirator disengaging.]

The machinery abruptly detached the mask from her nose and mouth. The sudden brightness made her recoil, her face feeling exposed. She fell into a fit of violent coughing—as if she had forgotten how to breathe. It was painful. God, it fucking sucked.

“Take it easy now,” said the voice from earlier. It was a man. He—He was speaking with her through his own voice. How is that possible? No one could survive out here without a suit. The atmosphere was too—

A sudden wave of nausea overcame her.

Memories of her last excursion came flooding back: the bunker door failing to seal. Her last transmission to the Alphas. Project Zero Dawn. GAIA—the Swarm!

Coming home.

Dying.

I’m supposed to be dead.

“I—” she rasped out, voice hoarse and jagged. Panicked.

“Whoa there,” there was a steady hand on her shoulder, helping her turn to her side. She felt something press against her mouth almost forcefully. “Drink this.”

“We got to get her out of that suit, captain.” There was another voice, female this time.

“I think—” the captain, she assumed, replied “—I think we need to wait a few more minutes. The device is telling me that—”

Everything was fading into black again.

--

“—else to go follow her trail, or just hope she comes back. She has to… she needsto see this. I just… Oh. She’s awake, I think.”

There was some shuffling. Once again, she was offered water. It was sweet this time. Did they mix in sugar? She tried to ask but she was so, so tired and…

--

Sobeck Journal, 1-27-66

I wasn’t going to see any of it anyway.

Best I can do is hope, I guess. The landscape is barren now – I’m kind of glad the other Alphas don’t have to see it this close up. Stings. I’m half-expecting to hear Patrick patch me in via holo, asking why I haven’t dragged my feet to the conference hall for the scheduled status briefing. He’ll take good care of the younger kids, him and Charles both. ZD and the Swarm seem so small and faraway now that I’m walking away from it all. Quite literally. Hauled my ass all the way to Nevada.

Glad mom isn’t around to see the ranch like this. When I close my eyes I can almost imagine it: the tall pine trees, the grass. Maybe I’ll get to see things the way they were before on the other side… wherever that might be.

I’m tired.

Time to rest.

--

She woke up with a jolt.

“Hey.

He was still there, sitting on the ground across from her and looking just as confused as she was. Her vision was clearer now—and every detail she managed to catalogue drove a spike of panic and confusion deeper into the hollow of her chest. They were in a leather tent lit by a small gasoline lamp in the corner. They seemed to be in the outskirts of an encampment, faraway enough to not be disturbed.

“I’m guessing this is freaking you out a little.” He scratched at the back of his head, unable to meet her eyes. He pointed to a waterskin laid down beside her bedroll. “Maybe get some more water in before you speak? I’ve got some dried meats too. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten in… a while.”

On the matter of guesses, she had a vague idea what might be going on. It was equal parts terrifying and exciting and a hundred percent something she did notask for.

She had an unfortunately stellar track record for hypothesizing, though. Chances of her guess being wrong were dreadfully slim. The cold. The scenery. Even the clinical tone and instructions of her Ultraweave Suit’s reanimation module—a system she helped develop herself, back when the prospect of sleeping through the disaster was considered an option.

It wasn’t. Not consistent enough to use en masse—not enough foresight to secure species continuity.

She took a drink of water, willing to steel her nerves before panic caught up with her executive faculties. She needed to orient herself with wherever it was she woke up in. Hell, forget where, the real question is—

“When… is it?”

He blinked. “Uh, today?”

“What year is it?”

The man’s expression softened—a look that didn’t quite fit with the rest of his character. He was big. Towering—even while seated on the floor—with broad shoulders and a figure strong enough to walk around with enough steel to build a car door, apparently. “You sound so much like her.”

“I don’t follow.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming along. She needed to eat.

“Sorry I—” he scratched at his beard. “It’s the reign of the 14th Sun-King, Avad the Liberator.”

Kings? Again?

“I’m Erend, captain of the King’s vanguard.”

He paused.

“You’re Aloy’s mother, aren’t you?”

-

fin

-

A/N: I'd like to acknowledge Tototops for doing an amazing job beta-reading this! It's always a pleasure, and my writing is always pushed to grow better with every suggestion and correction you help me with. x) And to my friends Sleepy, @theguardiandragon1, @saltypyrotato, @tanuki-pyon and Fridge for listening to my HZD manic fever ramblings and helping me make sense of the plot I had in mind.

Just finished the game about two weeks ago and read a bunch of fanfic. I consumed Writerly's Second Dawn (which is absolutely amazing!!!!), which is my foremost inspiration for even attempting to write fanfic of this wonderful franchise. I base a lot of my characterizations and format of story telling in this fic from their work, and hope to do so in a way which is still true to the unique plot I've set for it. I am very excited to be trying something new and to learn and get better along the way. Hope you all enjoy. :)

[highqueenofelfhame]

Hi Em! Could you write something with the word mirror?

this isn’t what you asked for because it isn’t fanfiction but it is involving a mirror idk i hope you guys enjoy it a little bit lol

Leaves crunched under her feet; shoes smudged ash on the sidewalk. She moved down the road, the smell of burned hair stinging her nostrils as the wind splayed her hair across her face. The breeze caused the smallest of bumps to erupt over her soot-covered skin, the unusually cool bite barely registering in her mind. She moved slowly, numbly, blindly through the street, unable to form a coherent thought about the events of the day. There seemed to be a towering black wall blocking out of her memory that refused to budge as she attempted to recall her morning. Something had happened, that much she knew, but it was merely a shadow behind her that she couldn’t quite reach.

As dusk approached, the sky was murky with clouds of smoke curling from lumps of debris. The heavy smell of fire filled her lungs and sent sharp chills up and down her spine, almost shooting holes in that wall in her memory, that thing she couldn’t quite grasp. Still it remained out of reach, as difficult to retain as reaching out and catching a handful of wind.

At the end of the road, there was a manor house, gray stone blackened by the tongue of flame. She stopped at the bottom of the staircase, green eyes shifting up to the once-grand building. Everything about it was familiar but unfamiliar. Her body had been moving down the street and toward this building on its own accord as though she were a pawn in a chess game or a magnet meeting it’s other half. If someone had come up and asked what she was doing here, words would have failed her. What was she doing here?

She took the first step, black boot leaving an imprint in the ash that littered the stone steps. A twig snapped in the heavy silence, and she whipped around, hair spinning out and cutting through the air. Nobody was there. It was only her on the abandoned road in the middle of an equally abandoned neighborhood. There didn’t appear to be another soul in the entire universe. Just her and this house with a symphony of howling wind cutting the silence.

By the time she reached the door, she felt like her entire body was vibrating with energy, tension, and anticipation. The large door was already cracked open and a slight push had it swinging in on its hinges. It was dark — it took several moments for her eyes to adjust. The only light source was a dim illumination of an overcast sky coming through dirty windows and tattered curtains. The white marble of the flooring was tarnished and cracked in some places. Every step was punctuated by the crinkling of dead leaves. Vines twined down the walls, twisted up through the broken pieces of the floor to reach up and out. The whole setting reminded her of a fairytale.

A skeptical part of her remained aware that anything or anyone could be hidden in the shadows.

Step by step she edged deeper into the manor, taking in every fragmented detail of the dilapidated place. It was impossible to be sneaky within the walls of the manor with how littered the floors were. If someone dangerous was lurking about, they would have known about her entry the moment she stepped foot inside.

Her eyes shifted around the first room she peered into – a sitting room. The furniture had been burned to heaps of black crumbles on the floor, nothing left but the wirework and metal that made up the skeletons of once luxurious and elaborate settees and chairs. Paint and paper peeled from the walls, curling and laying on the ruined wooden floors. They had once been glossy but now had no evidence of shine. No one had been here to take care of the home in years, maybe even decades. Not since well before the fires, since well before the town was ruined. The paintings that had once been intricate and priceless were destroyed and worthless. It was a shame, she thought. Seeing the fragmented remains of once vibrant color tickled something in the back of her mind. Maybe she liked art. Maybe she was an artist. Her lips turned into a frown when she couldn’t even remember that much about herself.

The next door, the white one in the middle of the hallway, caught her eye. Where the rest of the manor had been in ruins, this room was untouched by flame or time. Instead, the white paint of the door was pure —the color of freshly fallen, sparkling snow. She wasn’t even sure what the original color of the first door had been. Perhaps it, too, had been white, but the damage had it in ruins. It made little sense that this one looked as though painters had just finished the job.

She peered inside, lips parting in surprise at the warm light that illuminated the room. There was no dust on the mantle; the marble floor was polished to the point that she could make out the dirt and ash that marred her pale skin. The furniture, which was regal and made with silky floral designs, looked brand new as though not a soul had ever sat on its cushions. The walls had the lower half painted, the upper half covered in fleur-de-lis wallpaper that glistened in the golden light illuminating the space. The metallic nature of the paper itself reflected at certain angles in such a way it almost hurt her eyes to look at. Above her, golden filigree twisted and curled around and around. Beautifully painted men and cherubs perched on fluffy clouds in the bluest of skies on the ceiling. If the rest of the house hadn’t been in utter ruins she would have been entranced to inspect every inch of the artwork. Instead, her hands curled into fists. Something deep inside her was screaming that this was wrong and unnatural. It sent unease running along her nerves, a tremor working its way from her fingers to her toes. She may as well have been shivering for how profound her anxiety seemed to be.

She turned her head to survey the rest of the room but was stopped by a wall covered in mirrors. The room was reflected perfectly, not a thing out of place. It was her own appearance that stood out in stark contrast. For a moment, she forgot that this room was the red flag. Instead she felt as though she was out of place, like she was the one that didn’t belong. She moved toward the mirrors, almost as though a phantom wind urged her along, guiding her until she stopped before the largest mirror in the center of the wall.

Gone was the soot that had covered her body. All that remained smooth, pale skin. No traces of dirt remained. The burnt ends of her hair had grown back, once again long and flowing to her waist. Somehow it had more luster and shine than her chocolate locks had ever held, from what she was able to remember through the brain fog. Her eyes were bright and alight with wonder, not plagued by whatever tragedy she failed to recall. Even her cheeks had color to them like rose petals had been pressed into them; her lashes were long and thick. This morning the glimpse of her reflection had been dirty and ragged. The filthy denim jeans she wore looked fresh off the rack in the mirror before her and even the white shirt that hung from her frame was spotless and free of a single wrinkle. By some strange magic her clothing seemed to fit better. Everything about her had been gaunt and grim in the shop window down the street when she had pulled herself to her feet. In this mirror, however, she was clean from head to toe. Brand new. Immaculate.

When she looked down at herself, she appeared as she had walked in. Her hair was short and choppy, ends singed from fire. The old clothes she wore and her skin were covered in dirt and ash, scars and blisters. Her nails were black from the mud packed beneath them and broken. Once black boots were more gray than black, old from years and years of shuffling around through town. Soot was caked on so thickly that when she swiped over it, there was a small heap on her fingertip. When she looked back in the mirror, however, everything was perfect. Not a hair out of place.

Her fingers rose, brow furrowed as she touched the mirror gently. More curious than the perfect room in the crumbling mansion, more curious than the reflection that reflected incorrectly, the mirror—which stretched wall to wall, ceiling to floor— rippled like water beneath her touch. Waves distorted the once perfect reflection, the view almost making her nauseous. She staggered back, taken by surprise as her reflection wobbled from the effects. The liquid mirror rolled out to the edges of the ornate golden frame like the ocean. Unable to ease her shock, she reached out again to feel for any discrepancy in how it should feel. What she expected was a cool hard surface that she associated with mirrors and planes of glass. There was no reason for it to feel like any icy lake in the middle of winter, but she swore it had.

When her fingers nearly touched the mirror for a second time, it distorted again. This time, though, to her utter horror, something was reaching back at her.

It happened very quickly. So quickly that she was unable to get away from the mirror, unable to stumble back, unable to get out of the room. From the center, a hand extended, every curve reflecting parts of the room at odd angles – the ceiling, the floor, the paintings and the golden carvings, the candles, and the crystals that hung from the chandeliers. As she tried to step and stumble away her feet seemed cemented to the floor. Her body froze in place as ice-cold fingers wrapped around her wrist—fingers that were frozen and solid, not at all like those of a human— and yanked her through the mirror and into a world that was nothing like her own.