#or maybe ill just log off for the day
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i officially have the whole fic planned out so now i just need to write. im actually quite motivated so i might finish before the new year.
#writing dialogue excites me#suprisingly soft twinyards moments to come...#even if that wasnt supposed to be the focus of the fic at all#can you blame me? i love them#anyway before that theres some drama#and working through feelings#and starting to trust seth#because andrew doesnt#and neil is iffy about him but hes friends with allison and she helps#even if theyre not together (anymore) he means alot to her#they mean alot to me#my heart hurts thinking about them dhmu#going back to writing...#or maybe ill just log off for the day#im having dinner so#goodnight#writing#shout out to the dictionary for the help#turns out i dont know the meaning of alot of words
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okay i do have to do a mini (i call it mini now.. this is just letting my feelings about it out, so its spelled agressively bc im just so .. frustrated ... also not hate to the studio or the people working on it .. obviously >_>) rant about arcane-
SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ARCANE SEASON 2
its the most beautiful show ever produced, i mean it, its style, fortiche's (the studio) style, is just .... impossibly pretty, 3d and 2d, the animation is just so GOOD, the designs largely (like 95%) are too, the acting and sound design, the voice acting (at least the english one) is so emotional and good, the show in general is just good ... until the last episode
i have my own problems with riot declaring arcane the new canon out of nowhere and for no good reason since it was, im very sure, never conceived to be that, its a reinterpreation and works best as such, now literally everything is once again completely messed up, no one knows whats real and what isnt, no champion or story is safe, especially with the weird hexcore bullshit potentially erasing the VOID (whish is like ... half on which the canon was built on tbh) AND hextech- multiple champions being impossible to exist now .... but thats not what i wanted to talk about
i was pretty on board with everything the show did, though i wasnt a big fan of the whole hexcore stuff, but it all spiraled so far out of control, it just kept making everything worse, also with bringing in the black rose and leblanc, it kept piling stuff onto the plate despite them already compressing everything so drastically; espeically regarding viktor, but i kept my hope up even after season 2s act 2 bc it still seemed 'fixable', though not easily so
what i liked about it (in its writing) despite its pacing issues was that it was rather .. self contained for the longest time, focused on the characters and the class struggle of piltover and zaun, and doing so rather well imo, like it did and said things i did not expect riot to let through
i was worried with the alternate universe stuff that came with the escalating hexcore bullshit but held onto hope even until episode 8 and then ...man .. the last episode ... the fuck was that- like i hate timetravel and multiverses and whatever but the thing with ekko was done rather neatly ... they made all those chaarcter models and sets just for that short stuff and really .. was of little use other than getting heimerdinger out of the picture as well lmao maybe he will get his own series to advertise for 200 dollar skins in league hahaaaa but i guess the main point was to give ekko the z-drive ... which feels alot like what i feared about them forcing it to comply with the characters in game ,,,, even though that wasnt for everyone like warwick was done SO dirty after giving me hope in act two
everythings focused on the hexcore/arcane shit, theres the black rose shit (honestly i think it was a mistake bringing them in too bc .. noxus is its entire own region with so many champs and story itself that got connected via ambessa .. which was a new character the show made up until they made her a champ now .. its just too much to put into this one show already going at a breakneck pace), mel doing her bit with them then bam she mage now which felt like a champion teaser more than an organic part of the story, especialyl with how hard it got pushed later (poor little riots gotta sell more game cosmetics uwu), jayce just taking over control again and everyone going with it, singed reviving stupid version victor via using vander/warwick WHO WAS STILL ALIVE AFTER ISHA BLEW HERSELF UP TO STOP HIM FROM KILLING EVERYONE (which was ALREADY pretty cheap, but i guess jinx had to be even more suicidal than she already was heehoo), dont even ask me HOW, viktor was just whoops from corpse to im a cocoon now, ambessa being so obsessed with it, the entire class struggle being """"solved"""" by piltover and zaun fighting stupid viktors weird ass robot shitheads together and then acting like giving sevika a seat at the council is the solution to it, half the cast just dying horribly for honestly no reason?? ORIANNA being now i guess some weird viktor robot but without the mindcontrol part and singed just kinda ... winning i guess by giving her cocoon some goo of stupid viktors cocoon
it just all ... turning from this so drama, character and class struggle thing into weird ass dimension hopping magical world war that all gets solved bc we fought together once uwu AND it being a fucking timeloop WITHIN what ONE episode? and that being the ENDING (i know i know the hexcore bs was building up throughout the show but it still felt so .. unearned and sudden ... )
also i got personal gripes with the 'ending' bc .. was it REALLY an ending like they kept saying?? was it?? viktor, jayce, heimerdinger, jinx are just disappeared i guess, mel going back to noxus- the fucking 'our story isnt over' tease???? the last minute appearance of swains fucking raven???? pecking at something blue and shining like idk a hex crystal??? SHUT UP i dont want more to come, this story should have had its self containing ending, not this open ended bullshit that just reeks of corporate meddling bc they want their game to connect to their popular show as much as possible now so we gotta bring in as many teases and connections to other champions YIPPIEEEEE (yelling)
also if jinx is dead, wow, what a way to end her story, the traumatized suicidal character being tortured and tortured especially after seemingly having something good for once (i liked act 2 except for its ending the most bc ... man jinx was so enjoyable there, i loved her dynamic with vi and isha and half wolf vander warwick with the beast and man struggle i love alot, that part was genuinely beautiful, i wasnt a fan of the idea of idk ekko doing time stuff and them having a happy ending bc i just dont like going back in time to fix everything kinda stuff, but i would have much much prefered that, not changing the existing story into the perfect world where everythings happy (though i liked that part ... vander silco being gay husbands like that is just so goood) but to fix what is fixable in the present- them still having gone through alot but being able to live with it, so act 2 setup was honestly my favorite way to not invalidate everything and still have something happy .... but no we gotta kill the kid to make jinx even worse and vander/warwick too while we are at it
if shes not dead (given you see a blimp(?) flying away and her scribbles showing up and caitlyn looking at the blueprints of the hexgates) then ... ??? oh yeah lets make her leave zaun and just idk go be the main character in noxus or soemthing for the next show they are gonna do bc jinx is popular so putting her everywhere is a good idea!!!1!!11
ALSO since vander/warwick is my favorite .. i thought maybe after isha doing that, if they dont reverse it, hed get taken by singed again or ran away and turned fully werewolf like he is in the game (though i would have liked if they were able to be a weird family like in act2)- but no he just gets used as fuel for stupid viktor cocoon and then mind erased and made into the ugliest weird robot thing that looks more like galio than him JUST and i feel like it really is JUST to have Vi at the end do the scene that gets jinx 'killed' .. to lead into the 'more to come' teaser.. idk about you but that scene felt so .. forced, the typical oh no platform is slowly falling down but Vi suddendly gets emotional about weird ugly robot warwick (who conveniently comes back to life as ugly robot beast since his human mind got erased but not the beast??? i guess???) and completely ignores jinx yelling at her to get to safety, it felt so WEIRD to me (if you gotta do him like that at least let Vi listen to jinx, them embracing and then watchign emotionally as robo vanderwick falls into the hexgate thing .. that was still active somehow i guess??)
(poor viktor got done so dirty too .. i liked him .. until it all went weird wit hthe hexcore stuff ....... ..... also jayce weird speech to him .. why the FUCK did you not do that back in the cult camp instead of blasting him to bits, i get it he was fucked up from seeing the future, but then later hes just ... okay???? pretty fine all things considered??? and pretty aware of everything?? also his weird speech being all like vitkor actually you were perfect in your imperfection BITCH HE WAS SLOWLY DYING AN AGONIZING DEATH???? idk ??? it all feels so weird to me, like there episodes literally missing- ambessa dying also felt so unnecessary .. just so mel can take her place and go to noxus and have more shows maybe- )
i just .... and just like how i cant enjoy botw anymore after them fucking it all up with totk ... i dont know if i will rewatch arcane knowing it ends like that, what was that for, the most beautiful show ever made just to do a game of thrones ending in a single episode?
im so tired of it all ..... im so tired of being disappointed and feeling let down over and over no matter with how little expectations i go in with
this willl be the only arcane rant unless theres some .. big stupid reveal that gets me more frustrated than i am now, which i hope there isnt .. im tired of being and feeling like this .. i just want to enjoy things, everythings going to shit IRL and i cant even find something enjoyable to watch
#ganondoodles talks#personal#arcane#arcane spoilers#arcane season 2 spoilers#im 'fine' ... i just needed to get this out#i feel like i keep letting my time and thought and emotional investement into things be wasted#by allowing myself to care about it#and that maybe im just stupid and wrong and maybe i just cant enjoy things#i just have idk too high expectations or other generic argument xyz#ill have to mostly log off for at least the rest of the day#maybe the weekend .. and then im back into work stress hahaa yay#whatever ......#i hate being such a bummer ...... as i said before .. i do not enjoy being a “hater”#i dont enjoy not enjoying things nor making others dislike them#long post#bc of course its never not a long post
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my toxic trait is work taking up so much of my mind that i think i should just be paid for every bit of work i do. unfortunately this does not translate well to schoolwork and housework
#speculation nation#like i mean it's nice to just be able to do as much work as i want for my job#i can just go in on a day off for a few extra hours bc there's always more to do#and i always make sure to log it so i get compensated :)#but now in my mind doing Extra Work is categorized as Extra Pay but it literally doesnt work like that for personal work#looks regretfully towards my built up dishes...#i at least put my clean dishes away today. i meant to do them today but i dont think that's going to happen lol#i'll at least work on them in the next few days. i'd like to not be living bowl to bowl anymore#(the old 'clean one bowl to use one bowl' phenomena lol)#but i literally opened up my school account to review what the lecture today was about & to prep for lab tomorrow#and somewhere in my mind i was like 'ok i gotta record when i started so i can get compensated for this'#like u stupid bitch it doesnt WORK like that#i wish it did tho. god i should be paid for studying. government pls subsidize my degree. pls#i know that Kind of exists in the form of scholarships but get this im mentally ill and thus cant get scholarships#and so i have to work my way thru school. ugh.#what i wouldnt give for a free ride thru school with living expenses dealt with. INFINITELY jealous of students with rich family#they always talk about how successful people are more often successful bc of Life Advantages (like family paying for shit)#and like. god i feel that#me struggling my way thru school bc i gotta work and pay rent & the amount of work that requires overall is quite frankly crippling :)#i'll get there eventually... and maybe one day i wont have to work so much. we'll see lol
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-crawling thru the Thanalan deserts like a parched creature -
I've finally done it.. I've finished Hildibrand 2.0 (and leveled MCH to 50) ....
Now I can work on the rest of Heavensward (and try out BLU) 😋
#ik its optional kinda but i didnt want it to just SIT there in my journal yk? i like keeping quest logs clean lol#zwei writes#but also also MCH is kinda important bc the only other usable class i have for msq is warrior#and i really dont wanna be tanking lmao. so now i have smth i can run in msq dungeons/etc lol#i mean technically i have arcanist but i still dont feel like having 'arc 50' disappear from my character sheet lmfao#i think i have all the melee and physical ranged dps that i can do rn all done so thats kinda cool ngl#and after BLU ik ill probably go for black mage next... then paladin... then white mage or maybe AST#i want to do WHM more but im leaning towards AST just bc i think it starts right off at lvl 30 lmao#i also want to round blacksmith over the hump bc im like 10 levels away from 50 on that... and then get armorer up#AND THEN I CAN FINALLY GET RID OF THESE RANDOM INGOTS/WOOD FROM MY INV LMAO#like itll free up half a page of space and its gonna feel so goooood but DAMN that GRIND tho lmfao#ugh i have 8 diff foods in here too but i dont just wanna toss em bc idk itd be a waste yk? i remember going thru all the#effort collecting the ingredients and putting the thing on autocraft while leveling culinarian... like idk#i have a lil over 1000+ food items or 22ish days straight of 3% exp boosts looool#ill prob just end up selling half now that i rrally think abt it bc it really is taking up space#and my chocobo bags are filled with like. random event stuff/furnishings/misc lol#eventually after getting armorer to 50 ill unlock and work on goldsmith. not sure if ill unlock fishing#its either i leave it locked or get it to 50 with everything else. and i hear fishing takes alotta time sooo it might just be one#of the few things ill leave to do until after i get the full game lol#oh my god and then i can get an apartment and dump all my event furniture and all the reclaimed SPACE... fantastic!#speaking of quest logs i gotta get all the DOL/DOH to 50 too. idk why everythings gotta be 50 but it just feels right#i dont like dealing with a char with scattered stats everywhere ranging from the moon to the bottom of the ocean lol#its gotta be NEAT and ORDERLY otherwise its just gonna be annoying and nag the everloving shit out of me lmao#ill loosen up on the numbers after theyre all to at least 50 lol
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Goldilocks and the Four Bears
I haven’t written for the cod fandom yet so all the 141 might be terribly out of character. In fact I haven’t written for a while. I appreciate all the people that still read my work and continue to support me. I hope you’re all doing well :)
Poly!141 x reader
Masterlist -> Here (will be made later :))
Warnings: 18+, mature themes, descriptions of torture, injuries and mistreatment, etc
Summary: After escaping from your last mission that had gone terribly wrong, your stumble through the woods leads you to a log cabin.
It was snowing. Fucking snowing.
Any belief in a deity had been long since crushed after the last few months. Well you thought it had been months. Your captors (a small but deadly terrorist group) had failed to provide you with your own calendar and clock. Much like how they had failed to provide you with new clothes to replace your own, that had been ripped and torn and become tattered to the eye.
It was stolen clothes you now wore as you made your escape. Trudging slowly through the already six inch snow, your thoughts trailed to the fresh snow adding to the existing six inches. The size 12 pair of boots were rubbing at your heels with increasing vigour. Leading you to contemplate if bruised skin could blister or not. The guard you’d killed as part of your escape had been good for one thing. Or three things actually. The ill-fitting boots, a loose pair of combat trousers and long sleeved compression shirt.
As you made your way through the terrain you felt a cold chill steadily working it’s way up your trouser leg. Slowly, spreading across the flesh, affecting any skin that wasn’t in direct contact with the trouser material. It made you wish you’d waited for a guard more similar to your stature. While the compression shirt was better than nothing, it was still thin. The flimsy seeming material now doing little to ward off the cold.
Maybe the sudden awareness of the less than ideal weather conditions wasn’t down to your stolen clothes, but the sudden loss of adrenaline. How long had you been running now? Well trudging desperately through the snow, making your way further and further into the thick forrest and fauna.
It was hard to try and map where you’d been, what direction you’d walked in and where you’d come from. It was all white. Every tree looked the same. Every incline became and decline and you’d become disoriented.
Months of abuse, of torture, ofpain. All ignored for a few short hours as you willed your aching body forward. Through trees and snow and stone. Through anything that would put you at a greater distance from them, from Miasma.
They hadn’t transported you. At least you were mostly sure. When you blacked out, you woke in the same dingy cell, on the same dingy floor. Only covered in more bruises or cuts. So you hoped you were where this all started. In Slovenia.
You’d done solo missions before. It was easier that way. One man in, one man out. No one to turn on you or leak information. With Gunner in your ear, nothing ever went wrong. Until it did.
Your objective was to gather intel. To stay under the radar before formulating the next attack. While sneaking around you’d learned just how large their operation was. In turn you’d also learned just how large their base was.
The small outpost hid underground levels. That became clear after your covert operation was blown and you were dragged down to the very heart of the multi-storey building.
Each day (if that’s what you could call them) gave you no indication of the time of day or how much time had passed. They made sure of that. In fact it was the first time in months you’d seen the light of day.
The light that you noticed was now fading apparently, as you looked desperately up into the sky. Grey clouds had rolled in, covering the majority of the sky. The sun was still peaking out from the dense overcast that was rolling further forward. Soon the sky would be covered and the snow fall would quicken.
A few miles back you were struck that no one from Miasma had followed you. You’d expected armed guards to be shooting at you and angry dogs to be tearing at your ankles. Yet you’d had no chase.
Maybe they knew you would get nowhere in the climate. That you’d be weakened by the terrain and from the violence you’d endured. They were right of course. But you didn’t let it stop you.
Even now as you’d gone further, you still felt the burning desire to survive. Granted it dwindled under the ache of your body and the never ending valley of white before you. But you wanted to live. You wanted your revenge.
The final rays of the sun had been clouded and the snow started to pick up. At least your footprints would be covered under the fresh snow. Not that it mattered if all your footprints lead to was a frozen corpse.
Flexing your fingers, you found yourself wishing for gloves. Your toes were long past numb and every injury you’d endured felt like it was waking up. Old cuts that had turned to scars felt fresh, bruises that had yellowed felt like they’d returned to their starting purple colour. Your felt heavy. You felt dense. You felt tired.
Your desire to drive on had dwindled now. The once raging fire was now only a candle. A candle that was down to its wick. The wax around it long since melted and now it was to its edge. Trying to burn the glue that chained it in place. The image made you crave warmth even more.
Was this it?
All the work you’d put in over the years. From a child you had trained for a mission you didn’t fully understand. A mission that belonged to someone else, to Gunner. He’d turned you into a soldier, his perfect soldier.
Is this how his perfect soldier died?
No it wasn’t.
So despite your blue fingers, numb toes and foggy mind, you push on. Just a little further, you tell yourself. Past these trees, past this stream, past more trees.
Your doubts evaporate when you come upon a clearing. You find a decent space boarded by snow dusted trees from all sides. They stand tall, seemingly acting as natural walls to protect those inside. The grass is covered in undisturbed snow. It’s thick and white and makes you smile.
None of it matter though because sitting in the middle of it all if your salvation.
A log cabin.
You consider the sight to be a mirage. Created from and low blood sugar, dehydration and desperation. But you trudge on, almost to a stumble speed, as you reach for the door handle.
It’s unlocked.
Despite any moral compass telling you that breaking and entering or trespassing is wrong, you ignore it. You’re hurt, aching and this is a last resort.
You close the thick wooden door behind you. Taking note of the copious locks it has. When you move inside the cabin you find that no one’s home. As quietly as you can on stiff legs, you sneak around the house. Trying to wake up the instincts you’d been trained on.
Enter a room, check your surroundings, check again. Don’t assume anywhere is empty. Threats could be hiding around any corner.
So for each room of the ground floor you do just that. Open door, check the rooms, move on. From your searching you’ve found a large living room, a kitchen, a dining room, a toilet some sort of office/drawing room. The decor gives you no clue as to who’s house you’ve invaded. There are no pictures of people, no personal possessions. It feels surreal. And wrong.
To start with you go back to the living room. Using the large fireplace, stockpile of logs and matches, you start a fire.
Again, better sense would tell you to avoid such an action. To avoid alerting anyone of your presence here. But you decide to put sense aside in a bid for survival. If you didn’t get warm soon you were sure you’d be frozen soon.
Next you go to the kitchen. You rifle through the cupboard in an attempt to find something edible. To your surprise you find the place to be well stocked. Even going as far as having fresh milk in the fridge. The sight confuses you. Send alarm bells ringing in your ears.
There are products in the fridge that are in date. Fresh products. Yet no one is home. It doesn’t make sense.
As you empty a can of soup into a pan you realise, it doesn���t need to. You’re happy to play stupid and see this as all some sort of blessing, some miracle.
While the soup cooks you fill a glass with clean, cold water. Relishing in the taste of something fresh. When you’ve downed the first glass you refill it again. This time with an intention to make it last longer.
After the first spoonful you find that you like vegetable soup very much. Almost burning your mouth as you devour it in a few minutes. Immediately it feels as though you’ve been recharged. The warmth from the fire has spread throughout the ground floor, your fingers have warmed around the bowl of soup and your body no longer feels related to a glacier.
The sky only darkens as you sit by the fire. Basking in the warmth and taking a moment to rest for the first time in months. You don’t imagine ever leaving your spot on the floor. But the promise of a bed upstairs has you moving your legs in that direction.
Before your ascent to the second floor, you strip your clothes and hang them on a drying rack you found to the side of the fire. Now left in the nude.
Upstairs you find multiple bedrooms. All almost identical, except for one at the end of the hall. You assume this is the Cabin’s master bedroom as it’s slightly larger than the others. Inside there’s a wardrobe full of clothes, a full length mirror, a TV, some sort of game station, and of course the larger than most bed.
In the mirror you catch sight of yourself. The cuts of course stand out first. From the slight turn you can muster in your neck, you can see large welts and thin cuts, bruises and scrapes, all littering the previously plain skin. From the front and behind, your legs look like a Jackson Pollock original piece.
Capturing various purple and blues surrounded by smaller splodges of green and brown. With the occasional black blob or two to really contrast the overall tone of the piece.
As a child you had a strange infatuation with your bruises. Likening them to a sticker or badge of achievement. They were easy to come by during training. A strange part of you liked the way they looked on your skin. They acted as a log book of the hits you’d taken, the falls you’d taken, any sort of impacts you’d had. They made you feel strong, maybe even proud too.
Staring into the mirror at your body again, it all seems worthless. You knew you were strong before. You didn’t need months as a prisoner to prove it.
You take a few steps forward to properly look at your face. Who stares back must be a stranger. You haven’t let your eyebrows be this out of shape since you were thirteen. You didn’t have that scar above under your chin before. Your eyes were always so bright and vivid. Not lifeless or hollow or so lost.
With newfound energy you take yourself to the nearest bathroom. That just so happens to be the en-suite in the bedroom. It doesn’t surprise you. Nothing about this abandoned, well stocked cabin does anymore.
Instead you shower in one of the nicest bathrooms you’ve been to in a long time.
At first the water has you freezing. Not due to the temperature but because of the fire it lights on your back. Every scrape, every cut, every burn now being cleaned. The cleanse sets your body alight. In a way you feel the heat is helping you to heal. Granted, all you have to show for it is a mixture of blood and grime, floating slowly down the drain. But it’s more than that.
It’s the last few months being scrubbed off your skin. Your wounds and ailments being shown that this is the end. They can heal in peace. You can heal in peace.
So you take your time. Using any products you can find; shampoos, conditioners, body wash, face wash. You’ve acquired a new razor, fresh from the packet. It’s amazing what a difference shaving your legs and various other places can do to your mood. You’ve always preferred removing the body hair. Afterwards the feeling of smooth legs under a thick duvet made all the work worth it.
The final step, bar drying yourself, was brushing tour yellowing and plaque ridden teeth. The minty taste in your mouth feels unfamiliar but it welcomed nonetheless. Wiping your tongue across the now almost pearly-whites you’re happy with how smooth they feel.
Now showered, shaved and dried, you make you way into the bedroom. Finding the wardrobe and drawers to be filled wit strictly masculine clothes. You pick out a pair of boxers and one of the large white t-shirts to sleep in. The shirt dwarfs you in size, looking more like a dress. Not one that you would wear outside though. Not with the black boxers showering through the material, or your hardened nipples making an appearance.
With your towel back in the bathroom and the lights off, you crawl into bed. Letting out the loudest sigh your sore throat could muster. Then quickly falling asleep on the linen.
It was snowing. In fact it was a fucking blizzard.
A barrage of white, dagger-like snowflakes pelted against the four men. The lack of light and the dense haze of the storm made it impossible to see where they were going. They were all thankful for the less than modern compass. Hidden away at the bottom of Jonny’s bag. When he acquired it was unknown. But the four were grateful nonetheless that the Scott had the dated equipment in is kit.
After their week long training they were ready to fall asleep on the nearest surface. The blizzard they now faced was an unexpected one. Nothing on Price’s radar Gad alerted them to such a storm.
They’d just finished their survival training in the mountains when the first snowflake formed. During the rest of their descent it had only worsened.
As the snow around them thickened they trudged on. Becoming more aware of the weight of their kit, ache of their muscles and chill in their bones. These men were tired, hungry and cold.
After more miles and more words of encouragement from Price, Gaz was sure they were close to the safe house now.
Laswell had been kind enough to let them use the safe house after a particularly gruelling training exercise. It would be the closest thing to a holiday the 141 would get this year. Before the worst of the storm it had the Scotsman joking that he would build a snowman outside. An idea quickly shot down by Ghost in the interest of remaining vigilant to an enemies surrounding the house.
While snowmen were out of the question, snowballs were not. Something Ghost found out, twice, in the back of the head. Turning to see an innocent looking Gaz and Soap.
“You’ll regret that when we’re back on base and you two are on shit duty” the balaclava wearing Brit grumbles.
Soap sighs dramatically, “Oh come on Lt. Dinnae be like that, it was only a joke”.
The threat prompts Kyle to add, “It was all Soaps idea, think he should get shit duties on his own.”
Soap gasps feigning offence, “You bleeding clipe, don’t come knocking on my door when you want someone to warm your bed tonight.”
The comment causes the younger man’s face to heat up and laughs to come from the others.
“That if we get there in this blizzard” the captain quips. Trying to keep morale, but refusing to ignore the sinking feeling that they’ve missed the safe house completely.
“How far now?” Gaz asks, determined not to start pestering like an insolent child. Yet equally determined to have a proper meal and get out of his cold clothes.
“Two klicks north, then we should be there.” Soap tells him, loud enough for the others to hear in the now whipping winds.
“It was two klicks north last time someone asked Soap, are you sure you’re reading that right lad?” Price finds himself asking. Despite his rank, his military expertise and all his training agains the elements, it doesn’t make him immune to the cold. Immune to looking forward to sitting by a fire with a cup of tea in his hands.
Laswell wasn’t one to be stingy with safe house stock. From previous safe houses he’d been to that she had set up, they’d been a home away from home. Proper bedrooms, running water, stocked shelves. Price found himself ready to welcome anything that had four walls, a roof and could shelter him and his men from the storm.
“Two klicks north Captain, I’m sure”. Jonny confirms.
Sure enough, through the dense curtain of blizzard, light emerges. A gentle glow against the black nights sky. The closer they get, the clearer the house becomes.
A log cabin.
A big one at that. The sight is inviting enough to bring a smile to the men’s faces.
“Laswell’s outdone herself this time, fuckin yaldy” soap practically exclaims. Pushing forward to the front of the pack, in an effort to get in first.
“Hold it Jonny,” Simons voice is quiet through the mask, but harsh enough that the others can hear.
Ghost points to the chimney, “someone’s here”.
Sure enough as the others look up, they too see the plumes of smoke, gently rising from the brick chimney.
“Another team captain?” Gaz finds himself asking, while reaching for the know hidden in his thigh holster.
Price finds himself doing the same, “No, we’re the only ones in the country.”
The tension in the air is thick, rivals the thick snow pelting down on them. The four of them stand motionless, a short distance from the front door. Covered head to toe in winter gear, a layer of the snowstorm attached to anything it can stick to.
“Right, there’s only one door. I’ll lead. We’ll secure the ground floor first. Stay silent, we do this quietly.” Price commands. The men nod, moving to grasp their various knives. Following their captain as he moves to the front of the cabin.
With an almost inaudible creek, Price turns the handle of the door. Pushing the oak forward, grateful that it seems to glide over the wooden floors. Allowing him and his men to breach the property without alerting its inhabitants.
Price enters the living room first, signalling for the others to spread out and search the rest of the floor. He does indeed find a crackling fire, yet no one man’s it. The warmth is welcomed, but for the time being he ignores any desire to sit near it and warm himself.
His attention moves to the drying rack set up beside the fire. Upon further inspection of the items he finds combat trousers, a compression t shirt and a pair of large boots, size 12 he gathers from the label on the tongue. The clothes are still damp to the touch, leading him to infer that the intruder arrived a short time ago.
The badge on the arm of the shirt catches his eye. He rips it off the Velcro and examines it up close. An unknown insignia, contractor perhaps? Some new found terrorist group? Price doesn’t know. It’s not one he’s come across before.
Simon searches the kitchen. The space is a decent size, dark too. He blends into the shadows as he checks the space for any sign of life. He finds a empty soup can on one of the worktops. Turning to the sink he notices a single glass and pan siting there.
Once finished in his search he creeps back to the living room. Finding his captain there, along with a stoic looking soap and serious looking Gaz.
Price raises his hand to Simon, showcasing the fabric insignia to him. With cold eyes Ghost runs over the stitchwork. Mind running through the possible groups it could be associated with.
“Any ideas?” Price asks in a hushed voice.
Ghosts silence is a loud enough answer for the group. No
“Whoever they are haven’t been here long. Their clothes are still damp. Large boots, size 12.” Price goes through the details he’s uncovered.
“Men’s?” Gaz asks.
“Most likely”.
“There’s a pan in the kitchen. They’ve had soup. Only one glass.” Ghost reels off.
“We don’t know who we’re dealing with, could be anyone. Stay vigilant. Be prepared for a fight. I’ll take the lead upstairs. Shout if you find anything.” Price commands.
The team follow him single file up the stairs. Weapons at the ready as the sneak up the steps. Footsteps light on the wooden floor.
Price takes the first door, Gaz the second, Ghost the third and Soap the last door at the end of the hallway.
While three of the 141 find their rooms to be empty, Soap stops in the doorway. After almost silently twisting the door handle and letting it slide open, he stands in silence. What he didn’t expect to find was a girl sleep in the master bed, a pretty girl to be exact.
The Scotsman finds himself lost for words. He expected to have to fight someone of his stature. Maybe larger. He expected to walk away with a bruise or two. He feels lost on what to do. Should he wake her? Should he leave her?
Meanwhile the others have gathered in the hallway. Sharing a concerned glance at their teammate.
“What is it soap?” Ghost asked quietly.
“It’s a lass. A bonnie lass at that.” He tells them. Wonder in his tone as he stares at the sleeping girl. Watching as her chest rises and falls at a steady rate. Completely unaware of the four men that have entered the house.
The men collectively frown, walking further to investigate themselves. Sure enough, after they pass the threshold of the master bedroom, they too stand frozen. A girl. Not a man, or group of men. A girl, sleeping in their bed, in their log cabin.
Completely unaware.
#angelsworks post#dark#cod mwii#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#cod men#ghost cod#cod x reader#cod mw3#soap cod#cod gaz#cod price#cod kyle gaz garrick#cod simon riley#cod john mactavish#cod john price#poly!141 x reader#poly!141#dark!141
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love your role reversal au, not enough of those in the world, peak lord bingge is already annoyed with lqg, how will he feel with the intrusion of qiong ding's head disciple yue qingyuan? yqy is probably dropping by qing jing every week or so to see his xiao yuan
not to mention all the peak lords who've probably been treating shen yuan like the head disciple/peak lord whenever bingge has been away once shen yuan's cultivation reached a suitable level of cultivation, a level possibly helped by mu qingfang who might drop by with some pill or tea that's supposed to help those who started cultivating late if not because mfq admires shen yuan then it's absolutely because mfq figures that if sy is going to get into trouble and perform self sacrificing stunts even WITH lqq there as a bodyguard, sy needs his cultivation improved stat to he'll have a better chance of surviving and not needing to be on the medical peak every other day
We know that Cang Qiong prides itself as being very familial, and says its peak lords are very close.. we also know that wasn't really true until shen yuan transmigrated, because before that, everyone except for Yue Qingyuan hated shen jiu.
So I'm imagining peak lord Luo Binghe who does not give a fuck about any of his martial siblings except for Liu Mingyan.. but shen Yuan gets along GREAT with all the other head disciples. Everyone sees Shen Yuan, Liu Qingge, Qi Qingqi, etc etc all hanging out having picnics regularly and they're like "the next generation of peak lord are going to be SO close" and binghe is the only one who absolutely hates it.
Yue Qingyuan asks to hang out with Shen Yuan and Binghe says Shen Yuan spends too much time with him, and Shen Yuan replies "but if shizun has chosen me as the next peak lord of Qing Jing... shouldn't this one foster a good relationship with the future sect leader" and binghe feels like he's been punched in the stomach. Binghe kind of gets off on being shen yuans shizun and therefore holding authority over him, so the idea that one day he'll be out of the picture and it'll be SECT LEADER YUE telling him what to do... he's going insane.
I haven't quite decided what to do with Yue qi and shen jiu's backstories and how they're related to shen yuan... maybe shen jiu will join Qing Jing Peak later and become another person binghe hates because they keep stealing away shen yuan
As for Mu Qingfang... I think he's very protective of Shen Yuan because they are friends but also.. he definitely sees Shen-shixiong as his little lab rat. How is it possible for one man to get hit with so many wife plots poisons and enemies? He made an entirely separate patients log just for shen yuan because of how frequently he visits him. The log was layer refined into a medical guide on various illnesses and injuries and their symptoms, and Mu Qingfang is widely renowned for his book. No one knows that the entirety of the book is documenting just one person.
#long post#?#role reversal au#svsss#shen yuan#luo binghe#bingqiu#binggeyuan#yue qingyuan#mu qingfang
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There are a lot of things to love about the SSV Normandy. It’s a symbol of cooperation between two species historically at odds. It’s a miracle of engineering, a technological masterpiece that could alter every pattern of space warfare. Its crew is the highest calibre that the Alliance has to offer, bolstered by multispecies allies: an emblem of flying hope.
It also has far, far too many flashing lights. Everywhere.
One hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady, the other pressed against his forehead as if that’s going to do any good, Kaidan shuffles down the hall toward the med bay. Every light panel and display interface feels like a laser drill boring directly through his eyes, sounds reverberate against the inside of his skull, and his sense of balance is a distant, pleasant memory. Kaidan sucks in a tight breath between his teeth. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. He’s done it before.
He drags himself the last few feet, and the med bay doors slide open. Kaidan opens up his omni-tool – god, why are those so bright, too? – and does what he’s done a hundred times, scanning the medical interface so that the med system logs him. Doctor Chakwas isn’t here, which means she’s on her rest shift, but that’s fine. The med system will alert her if there’s a problem.
Kaidan, turns, so ready to collapse into the nearest med bed – except he can’t. Because there’s someone already in it.
‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey, Tali.’
‘Hey, Lieutenant.’ She still seems shy about using his first name. Maybe it’s a habit from being raised on board ships, or maybe she’s just not sure if she’s allowed. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I will be once the pain meds kick in.’ Kaidan makes it to the next bed along and finally, finally lies down and shuts his eyes. ‘Doctor Chakwas is just… pretty strict about me coming here whenever a migraine kicks in. Just in case it’s a sign of something going wrong with my implant.’
Through the fog of everything hurts, it finally surfaces in his brain that Tali in the med bay is… that’s bad, right? ‘What about you? Are you, you know –?’
Okay, he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. There’s probably not a polite way to say hey, are you here because you’ve picked up a fatal illness?
He cracks one eye open, just enough to see her looking glumly at him. He’s not sure how he can tell that she’s glum when all he can see is her eyes, but yeah. She’s glum. ‘You know how I took a hit on Feros?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And how I disinfected it, and used my patch kit on the suit breach, and told Shepard I was fine?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I was not fine.’ She slumps down miserably. ‘My throat is full of painful slime, my sinuses are on fire, and my halesh –’ Okay, that’s obviously some piece of quarian anatomy – ‘is more gummed up than I can describe.’
Kaidan shuts his eyes again. ‘Well, my skull feels like it’s slowly contracting and crushing my brain, so… I sort of feel you.’
She laughs weakly. ‘I should have run an extra med scan once I got back to the Normandy. I just – I wanted to help with the engine maintenance today. And there’s this combat drone design I’m working on. And now…’ There’s a sound of movement; Kaidan gets the impression that she’s gesturing at the med bay in angry helplessness.
‘I feel that too.’ And he does. He really does. This isn’t the worst migraine he’s ever had – he can actually hold a conversation, which some days would be beyond him. But it’s… it’s not great. And he had things to do. Ash was running a drill and wanted him to look over her plans. He had a cleaning shift at fourteen hours. Shepard wanted to talk strategy for Noveria. And yes, he knows he has a right to take time off for a medical issue. He knows he’s no use to Ash or Shepard or anyone when he can’t even walk in a straight line. But knowing that doesn’t quite get rid of the squirm in his belly, the one that feels like letting people down.
Tali’s quiet for a minute, aside from the ever-present, barely-audible hum of her suit systems, and the occasional sniff from behind her helmet. Then she says, unexpectedly, ‘I’m just… I’m so tired. You know what I mean?’
Kaidan’s head throbs. He swallows. ‘Oh, yeah.’
The constant vigilance. Always having to be careful about where he goes – is this room too bright? Is this one too loud? – in case something triggers another bad spell. Taking hits to the head in a fight that anyone else could just shrug off, but that for him mean another trip to the med bay to make sure his implant isn’t damaged. Trying to do his job and suddenly finding, no, he can’t, because his body has decided that today’s the day he just doesn’t get to function.
Tali… she must go through the same awful deal, just in a different flavour. Always being careful, so careful. Someone else’s minor injury being her okay, let’s get a med check to make sure I won’t die. It’s not the same, of course: Kaidan can eat food without filtering it, touch people without protective layers, see people’s faces without a tinted mask. Still… there’s a tone in her voice that he knows from his own.
There’s a heavy silence. Then Tali says, ‘You know what’s really stupid? I left my datapad in my cabin, so I can’t even watch vids.’
Kaidan smiles. He’s seen her down in Engineering, a few times, hands flying around over the machinery, rocking back and forth on her heels. Idleness obviously doesn’t suit her. ‘You can borrow mine, if you like.’
‘Really?’ Her voice is already brighter. ‘I mean – won’t the noise will make you feel worse?’
‘Nah, I’ll be good.’ He’s not just saying it; there’s a blissful numbness creeping through his head which means that his meds are finally getting to work. He fishes the datapad from his pocket, taps in his passcode, and hands it over. ‘What kind of vids do you like?’
Her whole being perks up – tone, body, everything. ‘Oh, all of them.Any genre, any species. I mean… asari vids can be a bit long. I mean, they’re made by people who can spend a decade making a vid and a whole day watching it. Turians… their vids can be a bit depressing. There’s a lot of ‘this war ended with almost everyone dead, but one turian is still standing, so it’s a victory!”
‘What about quarians? What kinds of stories do your people tell?’
A small laugh echoes inside the helmet. ‘Quarian vids are pretty limited by environment. We don’t have a lot of varied sets to work with. So we tell the best long-running dramas. There’s one ship in the Flotilla that’s been hosting the same series for over eighty standard years now. Following the crew as they change over time, that sort of thing.’ She taps the base of her helmet. ‘It’s pretty good, but… I think if you watched it, you’d think there were a lot more explosions, murders and shipwide romantic entanglements in the Flotilla than there actually are.’
‘Human dramas are like that too.’
Tali laughs. ‘Quarian dramas make human dramas look relaxed.’
Kaidan finds he’s actually able to grin. ‘So what do human vids tell you about us?’
Her helmet tilts as she considers. ‘That you’re very individualistic. I mean, not every human culture. But you put a lot of focus onto characters and personal journeys.’ She scrolls down the datapad screen – looking through vid lists, presumably – then stops. It’s hard to tell, but Kaidan thinks she might be frowning. ‘I did notice… in a lot of human media, the biotics are…’
Another insistent pulse of pain through his temples. Kaidan sighs. ‘Crazy extremists?’
‘Yes. Do you… do you mind if I ask why that is?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ Kaidan turns onto his back and stares up at the dim ceiling. ‘A lot of the early generation of biotics, the ones who got the same implants as me… let’s just say I got off lightly. Most ended up with much more serious medical conditions. And when people found out about the side effects of the L2 implants, the media got the bit between its teeth and –’ Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to translate. ‘Sorry. Human saying. They got a certain impression, and they ran with it.’
Tali’s quiet for several seconds. Kaidan twists his head to face her, and sees the pale eyes behind the mask giving him a long, steady look.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. And then, after a moment, ‘They tell lies about us, too.’
Kaidan holds her gaze, and feels terribly, achingly sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I bet they do.’
The way people look at Tali as she walks through the Presidium… it’s familiar. Not quite the same. There’s a note of scorn in the looks they give to Tali – but there’s suspicion, too, and that’s something he knows. All the times back on Earth, after he got back from Jump Zero, when he shook someone’s hand or opened a door, and their eyes found the implants. They way they stared at him like he was a loaded gun. All the documents he had to fill out to do anything, the knowledge that any government he lived under would always be hovering a few steps away, keeping tabs, making sure.
Remembering Rahna – remembering that obvious, instinctive fear in her eyes – is an old memory now, the kind that’s a faded scar. But he remembers the shock of it, back when he was seventeen. When no one had looked at him like that before, and it was dizzying and new and felt like a hole in his gut.
He bets Tali has that hole in her gut all the time.
Kaidan pushes himself up a little – which makes his brain spin, but he manages it – and gives Tali a smile. ‘Well. Let’s look for something that gets us both right.’
‘Definitely.’ She flicks through the options for a minute more, then pauses. ‘Have you ever seen Fleet and Flotilla?’
‘I think I’ve heard of it.’ There’s a faint memory of seeing an ad for it, maybe, and thinking it was the kind of thing he’d have loved as a kid. Space exploration. Justice. Love. ‘The… war romance, right?’
‘Yes!’ Tali’s legs bounce. ‘It’s – keelah, it’s so good, it’s – it’s about this girl, Shalei, who’s on her pilgrimage. And she’s interested in the geth, because she’s got this dream of finding a way to defeat them and take back the Homeworld, right? And when she finds something, she goes to the Citadel for help, but no one will listen except this one turian called Bellicus –’
‘Hold up. Wasn’t that… exactly what you were doing when we met you? Minus the turian, I mean.’
Tali ducks her head, suddenly shy. ‘I… I really, really like the vid.’
No kidding. Kaidan smiles. ‘So let’s watch it.’
His head still feels like a bombsite, and when he thinks about all the things he wants to be doing for his crew and isn’t, the rest of him hurts too. But maybe he’s still doing something for his crew, sitting in the med bay with his sick squadmate – his sick friend – and sharing her favourite vid with her. Maybe he’s doing something for him, too. He doesn’t do that too often.
Tali props the datapad up on the table between their beds, her whole body one big smile. ‘You’re going to love this,’ she promises, and presses play.
#sometimes your disability gives you a day tm so you write 1900 words about ME1's disability duo#i love their friendship. beloved nerds.#(if you're wondering 'did i see this two hours ago?' I accidentally posted it while I was still editing.#and I deleted it until I was ready to post because I'm a perfectionist)#mass effect#mass effect fic#kaidan alenko#tali'zorah#sky's writing
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Hello can u write a Dokja x Medusa!male!reader please
HOW TO TRAIN YOUR GORGON ゜゜・KIM DOKJA
'You listening, Dokja? Maybe if you followed the guides for dealing with intelligent species like this one, you wouldn't be in such a stupid mess.' yall think aegis can be used as a different sort of barrier?!?! sorry anon this is less mythology centric than i planned icl art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! pairing: kim dokja + male reader warnings: canon typical danger, mentions of self-sacrifice wc: 2.9k
ORV MASTERLIST
MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION
There exist several unspoken rules when interacting with the particularly volatile species integrated onto Planetary System 8612. Most ‘monsters’ are unable to effectively communicate with the main intelligent species in the domes, thus are doomed for imminent slaughter. However, exceptions like the catalyst behind these reports must be treated with particular regard.
Guidelines will serve you well in the coming days, reader. If you’ve accessed these reports, it probably means the days are bleak and you’ve encountered one of these species. One thing is for certain; if you are reading this, you will survive your encounter with a gorgon.
< Observation log, section 1 > (Relative Earth time 21/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDING
‘Rule number one: if possible, do not engage with a gorgon. Though, considering your perusal of these records, it seems this was not successful on your end. Better luck next time!’
‘Sooyoung-ah, don’t be ru—’
Avoidance was always a good policy when it came to the apocalypse. It saved time, toil, and lives—much like a vaccine helped one bypass a virus. But one couldn’t rely on it entirely; neither vaccine nor evasion was infallible after all.
‘If they were, these records would not need to exist.’
And for humans, their biggest hamartia was their ignorance. Nerve cells could only do so much to detect dangerous stimuli and trigger a reflex for flight. If the hazard was less obvious, much more innocuous, then the poor human would only be wading into quicksand if they weren’t smart enough. Right before getting devoured.
‘Of course that squid was the blind one who got us into this mess.’
Just like these unspoken rules, it was de facto that Kim Dokja was unlucky. Unfortunate. Ill-destined. However you chose to put it, the man was born under a cursed star, which meant that the stranger sitting across from him in the park was naturally part of his jinx as well.
“What are you staring at?” Unlike the squid wearing his stupidly pristine coat, the man sitting on the bench facing him appeared to be a student: civilian wear and a lanyard still around your neck, like you’d frozen in time these past few months. Glasses rested on your nose, which you pushed up each time they slipped—even if they moved only minutely.
Perhaps you were nervous, but the caustic indifference in your tone suggested it was an unlikely possibility.
“Ah, sorry. I have a habit of looking at interesting people,” he laughed your question off, but the lack of information on you, coupled with the fact he didn’t recognise who you were, gave him the answer he needed. You weren’t a part of the original novel. “Uh, it’s a nice park, isn’t it? Lovely statues.”
You glanced at the reader, unimpressed. Just like that handsome bastard, there was that same impassive scowl plastered on your face. But as soon as he’d mentioned the sculptures scattered around this surprisingly lush pocket of Seoul, your face had softened somewhat.
“Art major?” he probed, for there was something about your gaze that drew words from his mouth. Or perhaps it was just how surreal this scene was: someone enjoying the park like anyone before the paid service began, just some guy taking a breather from classes with a thick, bound book beside him.
A ballpoint pen, rather than a sword or any other weapon. Blue ink, instead of bloody atrament.
You were a part of this world, yet detached from it all.
“No, chemistry,” you said. Deadpan, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m specialising in geochemistry. Rocks, soil, minerals. Humans do so underappreciate what goes on beneath their feet.”
Specialising. Present tense. Not specialised.
Humans: like you were utterly detached from anyone and everyone.
His breath caught in his throat.
The urging of constellations reminded him of just the situation he was in—about to run out of time in this sub-scenario, where hordes of monsters would soon swarm. Right in this very park.
“Listen, you’ll need to get out of here soon—there’s going to be swarms of insect-like creatures here in, uh, five minutes give or take. You’ll be in danger if you can’t fight,” he swallowed. A look of disdain flickered in your eyes, and his head throbbed with how much your expressions resembled that sunfish bastard’s. You’re the idiot, your brows indicated, while the set of your mouth held only one question: who said I couldn’t fight? In the same strand of thinking, the sudden curdle of your shoulders—hunched, guarded—seemed to gesture and who are you to tell me that?
‘If only you knew back then.’
In short, you could fight. You could fight, and you were absolutely terrifying to watch.
“Aegis,” you whispered, and the statues seemed to continue in susurration with you as the air warped in on itself. Dokja was thrown back by the shockwave as the space rippled—all in time for the main guests of the sub-scenario to arrive.
Insect mutations.
They crashed right into the distortions. A barrier. You’d set up an impenetrable defence in less time it took for him to draw breath, only for him to keel over behind you instead. Wow. Okay. He could still work with that.
“What are you—”
“Silence.” It would’ve stung less if you just told him to shut up instead, but from the very get-go you were never particularly nice. Kind? Somewhat, in the sense you’d viewed him as some useless, bumbling fool that would be better off behind the translucent shield you’d conjured. But nice? No, from the very beginning, you were never nice.
‘Deserved.’
That was fine. Bearable. Still in the realms of believability.
For Kim Dokja, the shock came after watching your hand raise to your face to slip your glasses off. From the back, he could no longer see the stern expression you no doubt wore. But he wasn’t focused on your face, but rather the warmth of the day instantly seeping from the molecules.
Time itself froze, and the insects did too.
No one breathed, and not a singular sound rang out—save something hissing. A tire, perhaps, but nobody was fool enough to simply drive cars during the apocalypse.
Then came the stirring of your clothes. It was a breeze only you felt, rippling and undulating until your hair moved too. Except it wasn’t the wind that hissed, nor was it the wind that wafted the coils. No, they twisted into thicker, scaly locks—snake-like, except these were snakes suddenly attached to your head. It was no longer a simile, nor was it a metaphor.
You had fucking snakes in your hair.
His breathing was shallow; in the sudden frigid climate, those puffs crystallised and condensed in small white clouds.
And what of those insects?
His eyes flicked back to the ground shakily, to where the arthropods lay crumbling. Statues, like the ones he’d complimented brief minutes ago. Pearlescent marble—no, stone. Your glasses were still grasped tight in your hand, and he knew if you turned to meet his wide-eyed stare he’d be next. But, alas—
“Who… are you?”
‘And this is how Kim Dokja put his foot in his mouth and demonstrated his exceptionally poor luck.’
< Observation log, section 2 > (Relative Earth time 24/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDING
‘Rule number two: do not stare into the eyes of a gorgon. Don’t even look, except for when there are protective measures in place. Case one: a blindfold. Case two: glasses, which he literally wears every minute of the day save for when he’s sleeping. Dokja, do not sneak up on the man when he’s sleeping.’
‘Dokja, you suck.’
It wasn’t often you let down your guard, with writhing, clawing humans nonetheless. Pointing fingers to find the monsters under their beds and threatening their cities—when in fact it was their bellicose faults that doomed them. A self-made end, a fitting conclusion for the snake that bites its own tail. If you had ever been human once, these people shared more blood with the beasts than they thought.
Point was: you didn’t particularly care for those who appeared to be like you. Bodies, soft and squishy from a life coddled in cities; smiles duplicitous and more monstrous than any snarl; and their thoughts, often more heinous than any demon. And despite their sins, they’d meander in life wrapped in the bliss of self-ignorance. Dead in their varying morals like shrouds of far-too different cloths.
In this, no human was the same. This was the philosophy that alienated yourself from your sisters.
This was also the philosophy that landed you in a warm, damp place—completely dark with something poking at your cheeks. Correction—even through the thin membrane and slightly thicker skin that covered your eyes, there appeared to be a dim redness seeping into the edges of blackness. It seemed your blood vessels were alit by some foolish beastling. Almost like the golden chariot was prancing afore your eyes, except only Aeos of the Dawn was trotting along your lash line with a proud toss of his shrunken head.
Your fingers twitched inside your sleeping bag, but you forced a deep breath in before you could hear any hissing.
Actually, you knew exactly who was prodding at your cheek with a frigid index finger; the faint brush of his scent gave him away almost instantaneously.
“Kim Dokja. Are you an idiot?” you ground out, eyes still tightly shut to avoid turning this fool to stone. “I’ve already agreed to travelling with your circus, so I’d prefer you refrain from getting petrified.”
“You really do sound like him when you’re irritated,” he let out with a suppressed snort.
“Aegis,” you whispered, and the impertinent hand ceased its movements.
The barrier was not, in fact, activated.
“Gave me a bit of a fright there,” he swallowed. “I just wanted to say, it’s fine if you open your eyes.”
“No,” you deadpanned. Though you couldn’t see the expression, you could feel your facial muscles twitch into an impassive wall. “Don’t involve me with your stupid plans to kill yourself off.”
“That’s not what I mean,” he corrected himself. Were all humans like this when you lived as one? “It just won’t work on me. Me alone, which is why I locked the door so no one could come in.”
“Why?” He was a fool like the rest of them—risking peril for a glimpse of cursed eyes. Like all of man, his hubris rested heavy on his shoulders.
“I just want to see your smug face without any glasses.”
“You’re looking at it presently,” you argued. Though your ire was evident with your furrowed brows, he didn’t relent. Where was that puny man who’d trembled behind you at the sight of insects? More importantly, how had he changed so quickly?
“With your eyes open,” he clarified. He was more insane than anyone you’d ever met.
“Does it really make a difference?” you stalled. “How can you be sure you won’t suffer the effects as every other human and beast does?”
“You care about me that much?”
It was a quiet question. A tentative venture into teasing, yet strangely vulnerable.
“You worried?” he echoed. It was a weak aegis of his own, already prepared to accept your scoff and firm no.
“Fool.” Both the skin eyelids and the thin membrane unsheathed haunting irises. You already knew what you’d see in them—a milky sort of quality to their natural colouring, even without the extra membrane. Slit pupils dilated minutely at the sight of him, and his breath caught in his throat as you gazed upwards, unblinking.
Fool. The word echoed in his mind, an answer to his question but not at the same time.
I’m not worried.
Peering, your claws gently grazed his face: almost a kiss, if a kiss left a slight sting behind.
“I’m always worried about you, Kim Dokja,” you murmured, and it was perhaps then that his heartbeat grew erratic. Staring into those pretty eyes of yours with your thumb tenderly swiping across his flushed cheekbones, it was no wonder he could taste his very pulse. “Remember our first meeting?”
“How could I forget?”
A back facing his hunched form, more dependable than the shield spreading and curling beneath your mighty palms. Snakes coiling down your back, but there was nothing scary about how they swayed like ribbons in the sunset. And finally those eyes, directly protecting him from the swarms of insects.
No, perhaps it was then when the thrum of the organ grew somewhat more rapid.
‘Glad you realised.’
< Observation log, section 3 > (Relative Earth time 03/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPTION OF RECORDING
‘Rule number three: do not feed the snakes. Do not feed the snakes, Dokja. DO NOT FEED THE GODDAMN SNAKES.’
“Is Kim Dokja a masochist?”
The question, like most questions, came out of the blue. Such an innocuous, casual tone veiled your usual clipped syllables that Han Sooyoung found herself seriously internalising your words, before—
“What— koff— huh?” she spluttered against the sudden taste of her lemon candy, expression turning troubled, then incredulous.
“Does he take pleasure in torturing himself?” you clarified, as though it were a matter of comprehension rather than tact.
‘I knew what a masochist was! Why would he ask that?’
“If it’s Dokja, probably,” she coughed finally. Honestly, she’d pondered this very question herself—staring deadpan at the numerous deaths he’d experienced by his own plans. “Uh, just so we’re clear, why do you ask?”
“Is it normal to try to feed my snakes?” Definitely not.
“That… idiot did what?” she stared at the resident gorgon with quite the perplexed expression, but soon regained her composure. “No, not particularly. Are they… venomous?”
“Yes. Very much so. Please tell him to quit.”
Yet, despite all the half-hearted chidings of you and Sooyoung alike, your little snakes were beginning to grow fat and affectionate towards the man. You could feel something fundamental begin to shift, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling.
< Observation log, section 4 > (Relative Earth time 14/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPTION OF RECORDING
‘Rule number four: gorgon venom should not be ingested. If you are Kim Dokja, this applies perhaps most poignantly to you. You may be immune to its effects for whatever reason, but the venom is a nightmare to get out of clothing. Thanks.’
“An experiment?”
Kim Dokja’s face didn’t change from his usual, vaguely blurred visage; but it wasn’t like snakes had particularly good eyesight regardless. “Yes. Would you be up for it?”
You’d agreed on a whim. Why the experiment was to take place in a closed room, you didn’t particularly know. Maybe humans encountering an apocalypse had special customs to adhere to. “I am familiar with experimental protocol in laboratories and practicals.”
“Would you like to help me upgrade my poison-immunity skill?”
You’d initially refused outright—struck dumb at how recklessly he treated his life. Every time you thought he was a fool, he proved himself even more foolish—a crazed endeavour if you ever saw it.
Gorgon poison. Released in more diluted doses from the snakes on you, concentrated particularly in the bone-white fangs in your mouth. Like a vampire, Yoo Sangah had excitedly noted: much too excitedly for your liking.
Bite me, he asked you.
A pale wrist was held out cautiously in front of him. The air was no longer mere air, but an ancient altar dedicated to this sacrifice. Thus, you were the priest for this rite once more, but this time the ram carried the bronze knife itself.
He’s an idiot, you seethed, yet you were too.
For you suggested a less painful way of transferring venom, but he agreed. For you gently clasped his chin with razor sharp talons skimming the dermis of his throat, but he melted pliantly in your hands. For you leaned in with softened eyes, but his own simply fluttered shut in anticipation.
You surged, pressing him against the cold cement of the wall. Air was robbed from his lungs as he gasped, but rather than pulling back his warm, human hands merely wrapped around your nape to meld your body against his.
Why did his hands shake so? Was this not just an experimental procedure dedicated to strengthening a human?
Despite your analytical mind, your eyes closed too—both membrane and skin—and you savoured the lingering taste of the meaty dinner he’d eaten, and the underlying flavour of him. Hot blood pumped beneath his fragile oral mucosa; your greedy, long tongue prodded his own to find just where his pulse thrummed the strongest.
Ah, fuck, he thought dumbly; sloppily making out with you in a forgotten room was not how he’d envisioned this night, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Even as he winced with sharp pain when your fangs cut his lips, he couldn’t pull back—objective achieved but long forgotten. Those pesky, wandering hands of his clung onto your body when his head canted: deepening the kiss rather than wrapping up his poison exposure.
Iron tainted his mouth. Dripping past the seams of desperate lips was the crimson mixture of blood and venom, dripping onto his sweater and corroding the very threads—yet Kim Dokja both did not notice and did not particularly care.
But all good things came to an end. The two of you were met with an extremely exasperated Han Sooyoung at the door as she gave you a look, one that implied I expected better from you. For Dokja, the reserved expression was I expected this, to be honest.
‘PDA is not appreciated during the apocalypse. Take that shit elsewhere.’
‘Thus, these reports can be summarily concluded in two points of advice:
1. Unless you are Kim Dokja, do not attempt any of these activities with a gorgon.
2. Simply don’t do what Kim Dokja does.’
#slowd1ving#res ・゚ writing#x reader#x male reader#ask slowd1ving#male reader#orv#orv x reader#orv x male reader#omniscient reader's viewpoint x reader#omniscient reader's viewpoint#omniscent reader#omniscient reader x reader#reader squared or smt#kim dokja#kim dokja x reader#kim dokja x male reader#kdj x reader#kdj x male reader
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https://www.tumblr.com/bunnys-kisses/768349619894861824/im-holding-your-hand-when-im-saying-this-as-a?source=share
people started asking crane (Max’s friend) on stream if Lestappen (Charles and max) is real. I think he was like “I shouldn’t be furthering/entertaining this” (I forgot what he said word for word). People took it as something to be excited about, that the drivers are aware of the ships and all, but idk. I think fandoms are getting too bold for my liking. I have no problem with shipping, but this parasocial behaviour is out of hand. I saw this when 1D was still a group (with Harry x Louis shippers harassing Louis to the point where he got so upset when the ship was referenced in the popular show Euphoria), I’ve seen it with Kpop in which idols have stopped hanging out publicly because fandoms get out of hand (a girl in the group Aespa had a boyfriend earlier this year and fans got very upset because they shipped her and another member and they broke up. A few years ago, 2 members of two different kpop groups (SNSD and EXO) dated and the girl got harassed at the airport even). And now this.
Fandoms get so parasocial so quickly, it’s insane. It’s not new behaviour, but it’s strange.
exactly, this isn't new behavior. but i feel like it's become more emboldened with how much more "online" both fans and companies/groups are.
more under the cut, because this is a long one....
i also think it ties into this notion that i've been seeing online about how fans have this feeling to be "right" both with rpf and fiction as well. that their theories, opinions and whatever else is "correct". i've seen this with like pieces of media like steven universe and even star wars. like fandom isn't fun anymore, it has become this weird one up over each other. i honestly don't know when this changed, my guess is around the pandemic when it seemed like people were more logged into the internet. but, i could be wildly off with that. (if you have an idea, i'd love to know). it just feels stupid in so many ways how fandoms are structured. even if you're not the "best" artist or writer, people can't have FUN in fandom - of course that doesn't mean it has to be absolved criticism. you can have fun and still call out hate within spaces. the issue with formula one (along with k-pop like you mentioned, anon), is that these aren't characters. this isn't arguing in the tags over is finnpoe or reylo is more valid or legitimate within the narrative. these are REAL people, with REAL friends, families and partners.
it's this weird push to have someone's theory - and while i have a soft spot for lestappen, it is at the end of the day nothing more than fan theory - be confirmed. also personally, if hattie (oscar's sister) or crane (max's friend) "outed" them, i would be horribly fucking offended on oscar/max's behalf. to have someone you TRUST just out you like that. it's sick. maybe it's because i worked in queer spaces from high school all the way through uni, and the number one rule no matter WHAT, is you never out someone. even if the question is harmless and the person asking has no ill intention. you never out another person, because it's not YOUR coming out. so the fact that fans are near begging these people to OUT their loved ones, is not only a level of delusion that i can't ever comprehend. but, also it could honestly, ruin that interpersonal relationship.
so like even if a driver is queer, whoever it may be. could be a driver from the 90s, could be a driver today, it could be a driver in five years, i don't want someone else in their life outing them. because that's THEIR story. and fans need to realize that. bothering crane or hattie or alexandra (i've seen that too) - isn't helping anyone and it makes you look unhinged and weirdly alienates not only the driver but their loved ones. YES, they knew it exists, it is EVERYWHERE. but shoving it in their faces doesn't help. and you're never going to get the confirmation because there is a high chance that their not even queer to begin with. and if they are, NOT OUR CONCERN
i don't have a problem writing or consuming rpf, it is not a crime nor do i think it should be stopped. like HAVE FUN. but you have to realize that it's not like debating star wars or marvel or whatever other piece of fictional media. formula one is REAL, they are not actors. they are athletes, and unless you want all rpf to be shut down some how. i suggest the likes of some of ya'll need to understand that there are different boundaries. and respect them.
i know they're all millionaires, but they still breathe and bleed as a friend of mine once said. it's fun to put them in little scenarios in fanworks, but just keep it out of their direct attention. there are unspoken boundaries, that some of ya'll need have said to you apparently.
asking oscar issac if he THINKS that finnpoe is real is VERY different than asking someone's sister if she thinks her REAL LIFE BROTHER is fucking his REAL LIFE TEAMMATE. - people's relationships have turned to ash over insistent rpf in their faces all the time.
my advice at the end of the day is: have fun, don't write or draw it because you want confirmation that it's a real relationship. write or draw it because you're having fun. fandom is about making friends and shipping in whatever context is about finding a slice of community on the vast internet, not cracking the code of if it is a real relationship. - bunny.
#bunny speaks#formula one#f1#lestappen#max verstappen#charles leclerc#fandom woes#formula 1#lando norris#oscar piastri#landoscar
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sleigh ride [ficmas day 8] [castiel x reader]
↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024
author's note: this is a day late bc my stomach has been killing me and also i was hella sleep deprived but you know what it's fine totally fine nothing to see here
playlist:
winter wonderland -- pentatonix
coffee -- tori kelly
7 o'clock news/silent night -- phoebe bridgers
You never thought about kids, not in your line of work.
The reasons people got into hunting were varied. Most of it was personal. For you, you just couldn’t deal with the knowledge of the supernatural world and not bother actually doing something about it. Even though you knew that doing so would likely mean a young death.
This is why you stopped thinking about kids; you’d likely never have them. But being stuck in Leavenworth, WA, with Castiel gave you the same kind of glee. You imagine parents likely got excited to watch their children experience Christmas for the first time. That’s the same joy you felt watching the angel observe all the twinkling lights around you.
The difference is that Castiel is not your child. And if he was, that’d be gross, considering you are harboring a major crush on him.
Maybe you should’ve thought of a different analogy.
You had been hunting with the Winchesters for a bit now. You all ran into each other on a ghost case. Your hula hoop of salt made their jaws drop, and the next thing you know, Sam is inviting you to hunt with them. You didn’t know that Castiel was a regular member of that group.
Even in his vessel, you could sense something otherworldly about Cas. There was a sort of preternatural stillness, an ancient gleam in his eyes otherwise juxtaposed by his lack of knowledge of human nature. It was so easy to get lost in his curiosity. Sometimes, when he looked at you, you couldn’t help but feel his gaze observing every molecule you were. Like he saw you better than anyone else.
Right now, you felt like you saw him better than anyone else, the angel so ready to give up everything for humanity. It was late, and snow was falling. You had all decided to take an extra night in Leavenworth after a Krampus case had gone wrong (don’t ask). Also, Baby was struggling to get out of the snow, and Dean was too wired up to ask for help. Fortunately, it was the Christmas season, and Leavenworth knew it. The town looked like the North Pole. You weren’t surprised it was a tourist attraction, not when there were actual reindeer and Bavarian-style buildings. The cup of hot cocoa you had earlier solidified this town as Christmas incarnate.
“Aren’t you cold?” you asked, watching Cas catch more and more snowflakes on him. He just shook them off.
“I don’t get cold.”
“Lucky you, I’m freezing,” you shivered, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. Your nose was ice cold, and your breath came out in puffs. Castiel frowned, walking back over to you. He shucked off his trench coat and put it over your shoulders. You felt your cheeks heat as he made sure you were adequately cocooned. The jacket was surprisingly warm. “Thanks,” you murmured.
“I do not want you catching a cold,” Castiel said. “I am ill-equipped to handle it.”
You laughed. His lips quirked for a second before settling into their normal neutral expression. You would give the world to see him smile.
“I’m going to go inside and get something to drink. Are you going to stay out here?”
“No, I will join you,” Castiel nodded. He paused for a second. “Is that alright? Dean often tells me people want alone time.”
You melted.
“Of course, it’s alright, c’mon,” you nudged him with your shoulder, still bundled in his jacket. You walked the short distance back to the inn. The idea of mulled wine sounded appealing at this moment. The inside was a picturesque log cabin with a roaring fire. You let out a sigh of relief from the warmth and were able to return Cas' jacket to him. You also were able to remove your hat and scarf. You probably looked like a sweaty mess, but you didn’t care. You chose a seat by the fire and tucked your legs under you as Cas came to sit across. A waitress came over a second later, and you ordered mulled wine for the both of you.
“I don’t really drink,” Castiel added after the waitress left.
“You can just tell me what the chemical compounds are,” you shrugged. Castiel looked out of place in his suit and tie. And yet, the light from the fire accenting his bone structure, contrasting the blue in his eyes, was enough to think that this was where he was always meant to be.
He was frowning at the tree.
“Why do humans put angels on their trees?” he inquired, brows furrowed. You looked up to see a stereotypical angel planted on top of the Christmas Tree. It had a little horn and everything.
“I think people like to imagine there’s someone watching over us, that we’re not alone,” you sighed, turning back to him. “Even if it isn’t true.”
“It’s true for some,” Castiel murmured. “I watch over you.”
You felt your heart skip a beat, especially as Castiel looked at you with those intense eyes again. You had to wonder if he was really this clueless, or if he knew exactly the effect he had on you. You watched him lick a sauce off his fingers once, and it was enough to make you excuse yourself from the room.
The mulled wine arrived a moment later.
The spices were a perfect blend, and you felt yourself sink deeper into your chair as the alcohol invaded your system. Castiel took a sip and nodded.
“Mostly ethanol and water,” Castiel sipped it again. You grinned as he listed off the ingredients. He would ruin anyone who wanted to keep a secret ingredient.
“Last call for sleigh rides!” a man dressed as an elf called out, having come in from the front door. You perked up immediately. You had never been on a sleigh ride before but have always wanted to. You have a soft spot for horses.
“We should do that,” you jumped up, grabbing Castiel’s sleeve. He spilled the wine, but you were already out the door. You barely had time to throw on your hat and scarf as you were running after the elf man. Castiel, to his credit, kept up with you.
“One sleigh ride, please!” you said, breathless. The man just looked you up and down and then took your money as you jumped with glee.
“What is a sleigh ride?” Castiel questioned when he caught up. He was not out of breath.
“You get to sit in a sleigh and get pulled around by horses.”
“And this is entertainment?”
“It’s serene,” you smiled, getting good luck at the horses pulling your sleigh. They were beautiful Clydesdales, and even in their enormity, you weren’t intimidated. They were beautiful. Cas didn’t ask any further questions as you piled into the sleigh. You took one of the blankets provided and put it over your lap, bundling it up. The sleigh was going to pull you through the town, emphasizing the light installations and ice sculpting competition. The cold kissed your cheeks as the sleigh started moving.
You both sat in companionable silence as the sleigh ride started. It was so quiet, and you welcomed that peace. When did you ever receive peace such as this?
“I understand now,” Cas nodded. “Why you were excited over this.”
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered. Someone had built an igloo, and you took your phone out to take a picture. Castiel just looked at you.
“I don’t measure beauty the same way humans do.”
“How do you measure beauty?” you inquired. Some part of you was worried that whatever he was going to say would dash your dreams.
“By someone’s soul.”
That wasn’t the answer you were expecting, and you just blinked in response. It shouldn’t be shocking. You just never expected that maybe he would never see your face, only your soul. You wondered if your soul was beautiful.
You didn’t say anything as you passed through a light tunnel, the brightness contrasting with the night sky. You could fall asleep out here if you let yourself.
“What are you thinking?” Cas asked. He noticed your silence.
“Is my soul…?” you trailed off. You barely had the guts to say anything at all. Castiel’s gaze softened as if he understood.
“Your soul is like the North Star,” he answered simply. You kept looking at him. “It’s what one needs to follow to get themselves home.”
He was full of surprises tonight. You don’t remember anyone saying anything like that, especially not to you. How absurd was it that the first person to truly see you was not a person at all? Your heart picked up pace.
“Cas…” you murmured. He never looked away from you, was never shy. It was unnerving and intense. He would never be too scared and proceed to look away. You couldn’t help but look at his lips. He noticed. His hand came up and brushed loose hair away from your beanie, his fingers somehow still warm as they brushed your freezing cheeks. You sucked in a breath.
“I do not understand human courtship,” he whispered. “I would be interested in you showing me.”
You understood; how could you not? He just called you his home. You closed the distance between you two, going slow until you weren’t slow at all. Your hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him into you. You kissed him like you needed him to kiss you. Fortunately, Castiel was a quick learner. He nipped your lips and kissed your teeth like he had been doing it his whole life. You would sell your soul to kiss him for eternity, just like this. His hand was firm on your hip like he was afraid to touch anywhere else. You wished he would touch you everywhere.
You had to pull away for air, even if he tried to chase after your lips afterward.
“You’re a quick study,” you breathed a slight smile on your lips. Castiel grinned a true goofy smile that you had been yearning to see. You were the cause of that style.
“Anything for you,” he responded.
He kissed you until the sleigh ride was over, and the worker was rolling his eyes. He kissed you when you made it back to the inn, and you felt like you could feel his wings holding you closer. You would stay with him until you weren’t able to because with him, you were finally home.
taglist: @thefutureastronaut @lover-of-books-and-tea @qardasngan @evasmlp
#castiel#castiel x reader#misha collins#misha collins x reader#supernatural#supernatural fics#spn#spn fics#ficmas 2024#ficmas#my writing
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come with me | jesper the guard
author's note: psa! this is total self-indulgence... the jesper the guard follower mod/skyrim guard tales literally have me giggling and kicking my feet (cover image credit)
summary: (jespertheguard x dragonborn!reader) (she/her pronouns) After the reader discovers she's the Dragonborn she bonds with Jesper, a Whiterun guard that understands her. The Dragonborn returns to Whiterun after a long time of adventuring and convinces him to leave the city and come with her.
word count: 1,627
warnings: mentions of blood/bloodshed, trauma very briefly explored (mostly fluff here)! all characters are 18+
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
As of late, Jesper’s watchful eye felt less and less inquisitive and more so on the side of admiration. Underneath the protective sheath of his helmet, the young guard watched as you walked throughout Whiterun in awe. Upon your initial arrival, he was unsure of you. Who wouldn’t have been off-put by a young woman —dressed in ill-fitting Imperial armor, covered in scrapes and bruises, approaching the city gates with a dire look in her eyes? Better yet, someone who claimed she had information about the dragon attack on Helgen.
Within a short period of time, your name began to carry weight around Whiterun, and the word of the last Dragonborn consumed the entirety of Skyrim. Everyone, man and beast alike, sang praise of the rise of a new hero. Nobody saw you as the woman you truly were, a woman thrusted into a life of adventure and risk without much experience with either. Other than Jesper.
He was used to being overlooked, and when he was noticed it was typically at his own expense. The rest of the Whiterun guard took pleasure in tormenting him. Most of the time they were harmless pranks, just enough to make poor Jesper uncomfortable and his comrades laugh. His experiences outside of the city walls were vastly different. Maybe it was because Jesper took the time to get to know you before you absorbed that dragon’s soul, and the first cry of the Greybeards in centuries could be heard. Maybe because he took great concern at the sight of your disheveled appearance and the obvious shellshock in your eyes when he first saw you. Whatever it may have been, Jesper saw you as more than a hero. He saw you as the woman you were before your legendary quest began.
It had been a number of days since Jesper had seen your return to Whiterun, and his normal anxiety seemed to grow astronomically with each sun that set. When he finally saw you enter the Bannered Mare, seemingly unscathed but clearly exhausted, he felt a weight immediately lift from his shoulders. He watched from afar as you approached Hulda, handed her a fist full of gold, and took a chilly bottle of mead into your gloved hand. He felt his heart begin to race as you turned around and looked about the room, scanning the crowd of merry men and women chatting amongst themselves and listening to the sound of Mikael’s famously sweet lute. As your eyes met his masked face, he felt a smile spread along his lips without his knowledge. It was like an impulse. The second you saw him he felt lighter, felt seen. Somehow you always knew it was him.
You approached, armor clanging against itself as you walked, and nodded to the empty seat across from him with that tired smile of yours. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” Jesper said, almost too quickly, and sat up straight.
You didn’t hesitate, dropping your heavy satchel to the floor as you sunk into the rather uncomfortable chair. A long, drawn out sigh blew through your lips. The wooden chair creaked beneath you, warping from the weight of your armor. By your reaction, Jesper would have thought that was the most comfortable chair you had ever had the pleasure to sit in. Realistically, he realized that might have been the first time you sat in a chair at all in days. Ashen logs crackled as the fire ate away at their bark flesh, filling the inn with warmth and the haunting smell of smoke. It had been several months since what happened in Helgen, but you were still tense around fire and smoke.
“You must have had quite the adventure,” he remarked with an amused voice.
“You could say that.” You sighed, popping the cork from your mead before taking a long gulp of the crisp ale. “How’s Whiterun been treating you?”
Jesper grimaced under his helmet. “You really want to hear about how I’ve been? I’m worried I’d bore you to death if I told you.”
“You could never bore me. You have no idea how much I miss the simple life.”
By your expression alone, Jesper could tell you were being genuine. You looked as though you needed to hear about something other than dragons and bloodshed for once.
“They won’t let me take gate duty anymore,” he paused, turning his attention to the wooden sword sheathed at his hip. “And I’m not allowed to carry a blade either.”
Your brows furrowed instantaneously, and you sat up in your chair. “What? Why?” you asked, your gaze piercing and angry.
Jesper felt a shiver go down his spine. “I let a thief into the city. So, now I’m stuck with tavern watch. Making sure drunkards don’t break out into fist fights or harass the barmaids, and all that.”
“As if there aren’t already thieves in this city. That’s outrageous. I’ll talk to the Jarl, we’ll sort this out. I promise-”
“Don’t…” His voice was weak, quiet. “I prefer this. The other guards don’t bother me here, and Hulda’s letting me rent the attic room. It’s better this way.” His eyes fell almost shamefully back to the toy he was burdened with.
“Why do you stay here?” you asked bluntly.
“What do you mean?” he responded, taken aback by your question.
“Why stay in Whiterun? You deserve so much more than this, Jesper. You’re capable of so much more.” You placed an assertive hand on the table, an offering. An understanding. “I’m leaving tomorrow. Come with me.”
Jesper’s face softened as he looked back to you, although you couldn’t see it. “I shouldn’t… I-I mean I can’t. I have a responsibility here. My life is here, in Whiterun. If I go now I’ll be letting everyone down. My family, my brothers and sisters in arms, the Jarl, maybe even you. I can’t just give up because some of the men tease me.”
“They aren’t just teasing you, Jesper. They’re cruel.” Your tone was stern but not harsh. It held a softness you saved just for him, for the rare moments where the two of you could talk. Truly talk. “Come with me. We could go to Solitude, you could join the Bard’s College.”
Your honesty was hard for him to digest, getting stuck in his throat as he tried to swallow the bitter truth. There was little left for him in Whiterun, other than his career and barely notable status. What little he had to his name was either already on his person or overhead, tucked away in that small attic room he had come to call home. Beneath his helm, Jesper’s eyes wandered away from the intensity on your face and toward the fire as it popped, cinders rising from the flames like torchbugs in the night. Your hands tensed, fingers curling into your palms to form fists, as you suppressed a flinch.
“You remembered that?” he asked earnestly, his gaze still fixed on the flickering flames ahead.
A sweet smile crept onto your face as you leaned closer, resting your elbows on top of the table now. “How could I forget? It’s your dream, isn’t it?”
“That’s all it is,” he mumbled. “Just a dream.”
“Don’t you see? We could make it a reality. You can make it a reality,” you said gently.
“I don’t know. They’ll consider me a deserter, you know? I’ll never be allowed within the city walls again.” The discouragement in his tone was starting to become disappointingly familiar to you.
You reached across the table and placed a kindly hand on his shoulder. “You, my friend, are fortunate enough to know the Thane of Whiterun, remember? It pays off to have friends in high places, huh?”
There was truth to what you were saying, but it was clear to Jesper that you were trying to ease his worries through humor. Since your arrival, he finally had a bit of influence in the city. Although, it was worthless without you physically there to back him up.
Silence fell over the two of you as you stared at one another. Mikael plucked the strings of his lute softly and the commotion of story-telling and conversation echoed throughout the room. Jesper weighed his options, grateful that the conflicted look that surely took over his face was hidden behind the veil of his helmet. After a long moment, he finally nodded, seeming far more sure of himself than before.
“Yeah, okay. If… if you’re certain, then I’ll come with you.” His voice was higher, more excited than before.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything,” you replied.
Your face was lit up like the nearby fire, spreading warmth to Jesper’s cheeks as they flushed. Almost reluctantly, you peeled your eyes away from his face as you took one last swig from your bottle. The chair beneath you croaked as you pushed it back, scratching against the stone below. You came to your feet swiftly, despite how clearly fatigued you were. Jesper couldn’t help but frown as he watched you stand.
“Where are you going? The… the night’s still young,” he questioned. He didn’t want the night to end, to stop talking to you.
You smiled tenderly as you looked down at him. “I’m exhausted. I don’t think I’ve had a proper night's sleep in days.” You bent over, grabbing your satchel and the rest of your equipment. “I expect to see you by the stables at sunrise. It’s a long ride to Solitude.”
“I’ll be there!” Jesper replied eagerly, watching as you walked away with a gleam in his eyes. You turned to him one last time with an affectionate smile, then closed the door to your room. “I promise,” he mumbled.
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SKIP
Y/n and Hook are dating but he has to make up for forgeting their anniversery
All day long Hook couldnt think of a rrason of why his sweet Y/n was off and kind of cold to him, her respones were short and she shyed away from his touch.
He decided maybe she just didnt feel like talking untill he walked to his room to find a little box on his bed with a little note that said 'happy one year' and he felt like driving a his hook through his head, how could he forget.
He opened the box to find a medalion in shape of heart and opening there was a picture of them both.
》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《
"Im not ditching class with you" Y/n said trying to get away from her boyfriend not wanting to let him convince her as she was still hurt by yesterday.
She without noticing fell into a slower pace as her boyfriend slowly walked backwards infront of her trying to meet her eyes.
"Class happens everyday, this one doesnt?" He asked still trying to find his way into her gaze.
Y/n noticed he didnt have his hook with him so he must have left it in hurry, i mean he practicly ran to her.
"I cant fall behind" she said coming to a stop and finaly meeting his eyes.
Her eyes looked down when his hand rested on her hip, giving it a little squeeze.
"Ill help you study" he said and she rolled her eyes knowing his version of study when he pulls her on to his lap when she would try to memorize something, he smirked when he saw her expresion.
He smirked even harden when she lowered her gaze, shuffling from one leg to another, a thing she did when she got nervous under his gaze.
"I have a test soon" she mumbled a excuse even she didnt believe enymore.
Hook moved the hand on her hip to hrr waist and pulled her into an empty hallway.
"Ja-" she froze when on of his hamds fell under her jaw squeezing just a little to make her lips part as his other hand fell on her waist.
He kissed her softlt making her brain log as he pulled her close.
One kiss led to another and soon a little moan when he pushed his leg betweem hers and he squeezed her neck and he gasp letting his tounge dance in her mouth.
And when the sixth kiss came, James laughed when his sweet girlfriend jumped because of the bell for class.
"Great now im late" she mumbled.
"Well not that you are late anyways" he said playing with her hair and squeezing her hip as he smirked whem her eyes tried to avoid his, a ting she did after a kiss "you can come with me now"
"James" she said with a small pout he found very cute as her doe eyes looked at him a bit annoyed "im going to class"
"Love, please just come with me it will be worth your time" he said.
"Class is important to me"
"This is more important" he said taking a hold of her waist and draging her with him but when she still refused he picked her up bridal style to carry her there.
》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《》《
What Hook had to show Y/n was truly nice, a picnik by the enchanted lake while watching the fairy blossoms open up for summer.
Hook had apologized for forgeting their 1 year but promised to never let it happen again no matter what.
Now Y/n was studying by her table catching up on astrology classes she missed, taking notes she borrowed from Bridget to copy.
Hook was laying on her bed, he'd be lying if he said his sweet Y/n studying wasnt a turn on.
"You said you will help me" Y/n said turning to see her boyfried only to quickly turn away and look at her notes at the sight of her boyfriend with no shirt.
Its not like she hasnt seen him shirtless before, they had fucked so she could never understand why she still grew shy at the sighy of it.
Hook chuckled as he leaned hisbhead to the side to see the sides of her cheeks a bit pink, his eyes trailing down to her thighs that were clenching together.
"I am"
"No you are not"
Hook got up walking over to where she sat placing both hands on the table at either side of her body.
"Fine. Let me help you now" he whispered and smirked seeing her legs start to rub together.
"With flashcards?"
"Later. For now" he said steping back and turing her chair around as he kneeled before her on one knee " id prefer if those pretty thighs clenched around me"
As those words left his lips, Y/ns face turned shades darker in red as her hands flew up to cover her face.
Y/n was never the one to admit she was horny or needed him, Hook just simply knew how to read her body language.
Hook got up reaching for her hands to pull them away so he could look her into eyes.
"No need to be embaressed darling" he said before kissing her " i got you" he said before his lips trailed down her neck.
His fingers slowly unbottoned her shirt before his lips latched to the top of her breast slowly going down to her skirt.
He lifted her up as he walked to the bed before his lips kissed her flods over her panties.
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Y/n floped down breathing hard, het legs giving out when Hook finaly pulled out of her.
His fingers ran up her pussy as he spread the folds and toyed with the clit a big more.
"James"
"Im making it up to you, just one more love" he said before sucking her clit before going up to kiss her as he pushed hia dick back unside bow going in a god like pace.
Y/n s eyes rolled back as Hook braught his finger to her mouth and she gladly sucked them while she was on her 8th orgasm this night.
When Hook felt the girls last orgasm he pushed his fingets down making her gag a bit.
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"Im sorry darling" Hook said again as he kissed the girls shoulder.
"Its okey"
Not my original idea, saw a post and loved it so gave it my twist.
Original idea belonhs to @giveityourworst and i love their work
#joshua colley x reader#descendants#descendants james hook#descendants joshua colley#descendants red#descendants chloe
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have something that’s been on my mind for awhile, gonna try to put it into words … try, anyway
this isn’t a post directed toward anyone or anything, it has no ill intent, me posting it is due to more of a curiosity if anyone out there feels similarly at all …
for a long while now, I find myself really drifting away from online objectum spaces … I feel more and more every day like I just can’t relate, not to the experience of being objectum, but like, idk, maybe the online “culture” or “vibe” I get off tumblr and discord both?
a little context … I’ve identified as objectum for over 10 years now … and blogged about it on my main accounts for over 10 years. But all that time, I’ve spent my time irl really dedicating a lot of my time and energy and life tbh toward my objectum loves … it’s taken me down a crazy, windy, terrifying, beautiful mess of a road irl
but
idk. While in the past, I never felt a rift between myself and tumblr objectum community, I feel one now, and I don’t know why. It makes me a bit sad. But “here” just feels … so online. I mean. It IS online … but it feels SO online. Does anyone relate to what I’m trying to say? Or am I totally alone in this?
i know that objectum is a completely unique experience to everyone who defines as it. I’ve always loved that about it. But I also always felt like I could log on tumblr and find a space that felt relatable to me. Maybe I’m just too old. Idk. I love all objectum people on principle. But I think the time when i could post here and people would genuinely relate to me may be over. Maybe I’m the one who’s grown unrelatable … the idea of that makes me sad. Idk.
anyone feel like giving me their two cents?
signed, a lost objectum sexual
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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ midnight insomnia' - c.yj
SYNOPSIS - its the middle of the night and you have 2 problems; no.1 you cant sleep, and no.2 you miss your boyfriend. PAIRING - choi yeonjun x f!reader GENRE - fluff, established relationship WARNINGS - reader is depicted with a pink colour, reader is called ‘baby’ and ‘girlfriend’, just yeonjun and y/n being really cute with eachother <3 requested from anon: hi! i dont think you've posted yet, maybe your busy or just dont know what to write about since your a new blog, but i want to put in a req.. could you do reader x yeonjun with the prompt “i can’t sleep, come to my bed” id actually die AAH im so curious what you could turn this into, thanks :}
notes: thanku sm for the req! yeah, i havent been writing yet since my brain was blank tbh i had no ideas for a fanfic in mind 😭😭 but now youve added fuel to my fire and ill try start writing more often :3 (and yes, the 127 in the fic was on purpose)
The moon cast a soft glow through the small sliver between your curtains, painting the room in hues of silver. In the quiet of the night, you tossed and turned under your soft blanket, unable to find solace in slumber. As you battled with your insomnia, you just couldnt keep your mind off of one thing; Yeonjun. You couldnt stop thinking about the way he would hold you through these chilly early-spring nights, and how much you missed his warm body next to yours. At this point you’ve realised just how starved you were from him despite only seeing him a couple of days ago.
You gave up on your slumber, rolling like a log from one side of your bed to another to pick up your phone. The sharp glow from the screen hit your eyes, your face instinctively scrunching up since you werent used to the brightness. Your fingers lazily glided over to the message app icon, and then tapped on Yeonjun’s contact. The time at the side of the screen caught your eye, and your realised it was 1:27 AM. You were a little weary of texting your boyfriend at this late hour; you knew that he was probably tired after a long day of practicing and you didnt want to seem selfish or too clingy. But you shook off your bad feelings since you knew that Yeonjun wasnt the type to be able to fall asleep easily either. You began to type your messages…
“jjunieeee..”
“baby… ☹️”
As expected, Yeonjun was of course awake. Your one word messages were opened by him a minute later. He looked at the texts, a little confused on why you’d be texting him right now. Any how, he started typing back.
“y/n? why’re you still up. you better not be up to some weird shi 😐”
“jjunie, i cant sleep. come to my bed.”
“baby, its half 1 in the morning.”
“please..😔 i really cant sleep and i need sum1 by my side 😞”
“y/n you’re going to be the death of me... but what wouldnt i do for my beautiful girlfriend”
“ill be there in 5”
“yippee! 😇 i love you ❤️”
“love you more baby ❤️”
Your face lit up as your boyfriend agreed to come over. You immediately put your phone back on your side table and plugged it back into charging, then quickly tossed the dirty socks that were lying on your bedroom floor underneath your bed to appear a little tidier. After a little while, you could hear a quiet knock echo through your small apartment; your face lighting up once again. Your feet quickly brought you to your hallway, where you rummaged your drawer for your keys. Eventually finding them, you jammed the correct key into the keyhole, twisiting it and gently opening the door. As your boyfriend appears from behind the door, you immediately pull him into a hug, shutting the door behind him. “Whats up with you today?” He teases as he feels your arms lock around him tightly, wrapping his arms around your waist in response. “Just missed you baby.” You responded, taking in his soft scent which you missed badly. “Y/n, we just saw eachother a few days ago..” His chuckle landed right in your ear, warm breath brushing right up against your ear. The sensation of course did not fail to make you blush a little. “Yeah, but ‘just a few days ago’ feels like an eternity to me.” You whisper into his shoulder, finding comfort in just burrying your face in his shoulder and hiding from the world. You feel his hands come away from your waist and up to your back, rubbing small circles. “You really arent a patient person, are you? Now, lets get you to bed.” He whispers as he takes your hand in his and begins to lead you over to your bedroom. You obviously dont resist, and grip his hand back as you walk behind him. None of you made a sound as you walked to your bedroom. Both of your social batteries were drained from the long day you’ve survived today, and all you wanted to do was to hold eachother in peace as you tried to fall back into a slumber.
You walk into your bedroom, and Yeonjun leads you straight to your bed. He lets you crawl in and under the covers as he takes off his jacket and throws it onto the chair you have by your desk. He came just wearing his pajamas, since he knew all you were going to do together was snuggle and sleep. He climbs onto your bed, arms wrapping tightly around your body as your face hides in his chest. His hand runs through your soft hair in a consoling manner, trying to get you to feel more tired and sleepy. His hands work like magic, your eyes beginning to feel heavier by the minute. But before you fall asleep, you give his hand a gentle squeeze and manage to whisper a set of three familiar words.
“I love you.”
#drabble#kpop imagines#one shot#x reader#kpop#yeonjun#yeonjun imagines#yeonjun drabbles#txt#txt imagines#txt fanfic#yeonjun fanfic#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun x y/n#yeonjun x you#yeonjun oneshot#oneshot#txt oneshots#new kpop blog#fanfic
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Anywhere You Go | Read on Ao3
My piece for the @boatemvillagezine! The zine turned out spectacular, be sure to give it a read <3
—☾—
The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the air is fresh in Pearl’s lungs as she slides open the van door and steps out into the small parking lot, gravel crunching beneath her boots. Turning around, she offers a hand to Mumbo, who still looks queasy from the bout of carsickness that’d struck him earlier on the road.
“Grian is trying to kill me personally, I think,” Mumbo mutters, holding Pearl’s arm for stability.
“If I wanted you dead, I would’ve been rid of you by now,” Grian comes around the front of the van saying, offering Mumbo a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
Mumbo harrumphs, “You took that last turn faster than you had to and you know it. Why did we let you drive, anyway?”
“I’m a perfectly adequate driver, I’ll have you know! In my defense, I did not see that bend coming up—”
Scar climbs out of the backseat next, adjusting the tiny version of his scarlet top hat he’d insisted on bringing along, though his Swaggon attire had been swapped out for a more practical shirt and shorts combo of the same color scheme. Pearl admires the dedication to the theme, really.
Hooking an arm around Grian’s shoulders, Scar says, “Now, now, gentleman! Let the worries of our travels fall away as you admire the magnificent view all around us.”
Still sitting in the passenger seat, maps spilling out upon the dashboard in front of him, Impulse snorts, “You make it sound like you’re trying to sell them the forest, Scar.”
“Well, you know what they say, there’s profit to be had everywhere you look!” Scar hums, getting that all-too-familiar gleam in his eye.
“As your CEO, I appreciate the mindset, but you can’t sell us public land,” Mumbo points out with a laugh, straightening up looking significantly less ill. Scar shrugs, a cheeky smile on his face.
Adjusting the bandanna she’d tied around her braided hair, Pearl bounces on her feet. “Profits aside, we’re finally here! Let’s get going already!”
Earlier in the week, Impulse had proposed an overnight hiking trip, following a trail through the scenic foothills of the closest real mountain range, ending the day out by camping around the lake found in one of the higher-up valleys, to give the Boatem crew a break from building. The idea was met with enthusiasm, and just a couple days later, Pearl found herself crammed between Scar and everyone’s luggage in the backseat of Mumbo’s van as Grian drove and Impulse directed, Mumbo clutching the front of his pineapple-patterned shirt next to Scar for dear life.
After hours being stuck in the same uncomfortable position, Pearl’s more than ready to start up the trail. The others are quick to agree, and after packs are assembled, shoelaces are tied, and the van is locked, they’re off.
The woods feel like an entirely different world than the lot they parked in. Tall, thin trees with fluffy foliage form a lush canopy high above Pearl’s head, and between the trunks the ground is alive with brush, pocket-marked with fallen logs and framed by the soft brown pine needles of the forest floor. Lichen creeps up the boulders scattered throughout, and steep rock faces contrast beautifully with the greens of the plant life.
Mumbo’s the first to break the hush that had fallen over the group. “Wow,” he breathes, “just, wow.”
Impulse nudges Mumbo and points to a tree with a thicker trunk and hole in the center that, paired with the bits of bark surrounding it, almost resembles a mouth of sharp teeth. “Hey, look, it’s Treesa!”
Following his gaze, Mumbo laughs. “I see it! Could be Treesa’s cousin, maybe—it doesn’t quite have her eyes.”
“I knew it was going to be pretty, but I didn’t expect it to be this amazing! Would you just look at the shape of those trees!” Scar walks in front of the group and waves vaguely to the left, grinning.
“Uh, Scar, we’re surrounded by trees,” Grian teases in a deadpan.
“And they’re all beautiful,” Scar agrees, stretching out the syllables of “beautiful” with a studious nod.
“Oh, I completely get you. Look at this terrain! I’m getting so much inspiration for my mountain already.” Pearl wishes she’d brought her sketchbook with her. Such beautiful shapes! She’s determined to commit everything to memory to recount on paper later.
Scar and Pearl fall into step together as they walk, the path beneath their feet nothing more than a line of dirt trodden enough to be distinguishable from the undergrowth, laughter from Grian, Mumbo, and Impulse echoing all around them. Sunlight filters through the trees, dappling against the gorgeous landscape, and the conversation between Pearl and Scar is nothing short of gushing about every detail.
—☾—
The first three forks in the trail are marked with signs, and it’s easy to follow the arrow pointing towards the lake. The forth fork’s signpost, however, must’ve succumbed to the elements at some point, and now lays half buried in the mud puddle gathered on the side of the path.
“I can’t make out what any of it says, can anyone else?” Grian squints at the muddied sign, whose lettering has weathered away almost completely. After a chorus of no’s in response, he asks, “Impulse, would you be able to find the route on the map?”
“I sure can!” Impulse sticks a hand in his shorts pocket, only to frown. Checking the other pockets, his expression grows more worried, until he pulls off his backpack to root around its compartments. “I must have it here somewhere.”
Remembering the stack of maps piled on the dashboard of the van, Pearl sucks in a breath through her teeth and asks, “Did you actually grab it from the car? Before we left?”
Freezing mid-action, Impulse’s eyes go wide. “Now that you mention it… no, I didn’t. Do we go back for it?”
Grian shakes his head. “We’ve already been hiking for hours. If we go back now we’ll be trying to find the campsite in the dark. Should we just… follow the path and hope for the best?”
“It’s a terrible idea, but it might be our best option, and if that doesn’t sum up our group as a whole, I don’t know what does,” Mumbo agrees.
“Then it’s settled! Onwards!” Scar marches forward, before seemingly remembering that they haven’t decided which route to take. “Actually, which way are we going?”
Impulse points to the right, where the slope they stand on continues uphill. “The lake’s in a higher valley, it’d make sense to keep going up until we find it, right?”
With a shrug, Grian says, “Seems like a reasonable plan to me.”
From there, of course, it doesn’t take very long for things to go wrong.
Right over the crest of the hill they’ve been hiking over is a pool of sticky, deceptively shallow-looking mud that spans too far on either side to be avoided without getting tangled in dense vegetation. In their attempt to cross, Scar missteps and ends up in mud up to his ankle, his boot completely trapped underneath. Mumbo and Impulse manage to free Scar, but his shoe is lost forever, and the spare pair Impulse loans out to Scar is a size too tight.
On the other side of the puddle, the trail is notably not nearly as worn down as the rest of it has been so far, and after a while it fades entirely, leaving the group stranded.
“I can’t see anything!” Mumbo throws his hands up in defeat. “Isn’t a lake supposed to be big? Surely it should’ve been visible by this point?”
The part of the forest they’ve found themselves in is densely wooded, the trees close enough together that it’s near-impossible to see anything beyond the small clearing they’ve stopped to rest in. Paired with the slowly setting sun, Pearl’s suddenly struck by the feeling that she does not want to be here past dark, thank you very much.
Shrugging her pack from her shoulders, Pearl suggests, “I could climb a tree? See if I could spot anything from up there?”
The idea is met with mixed responses. “It’s definitely illegal, and stupid, and dangerous,” Impulse starts, “but… it would be good to reach a higher vantage point.”
“Oh, super illegal,” Grian agrees. “I’ll go with you, Pearl. We’ll make sure not to litter or destroy the tree. I’m sure the forest will understand.”
After leaving their bags with the rest of the group, Pearl and Grian set off to find a good climbing tree. The forest is predominantly made up of tall trees with narrow trunks, with their shorter, bushier counterparts dotted in between—nothing ideal for climbing.
“Oh, this one is pretty good!” Pearl says, as they come across a tree suitably large, with branches low enough down to act as footholds.
“Sure is,” Grian says, bending down to tie his shoe. As he straightens up, he tosses Pearl a grin. “Race you to the top!”
“Oi!” Pearl exclaims, grabbing at the first branch and hoisting herself up. The limb creaks, but holds fast, and Pearl reaches for the next. Partway up the tree, Pearl and Grian are neck and neck, and Grian sticks his tongue out at Pearl around the trunk, Pearl wrinkling her nose in response.
In the highest boughs that’ll support her weight, Pearl gives a whoop of victory, holding her hand out to Grian to help him up the last bit of the way. There’s no real place to sit, so instead Pearl takes to crouching on her branch with an arm around the trunk, Grian standing, holding a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.
“See anything?” Grian asks, after a quiet moment of taking in the view.
Scanning the land around them, Pearl sighs. “No. It is quite lovely from up here, though.”
From so high up, the mountains are visible through blue-tinged fog, ringing the horizon like a crown. Rolling hills stretch out as far as the eye can see, and Pearl can just make out the rocks that break up the woods below. The cool spring breeze rustles the treetops around them as it does the loose hair around Pearl’s face, and when she inhales, Pearl’s surrounded by the scent of sweet, refreshing pine.
“Well, this was a bust, then.” Grian lowers himself, readying for the climb back down.
Carefully shifting her grip to join him, Pearl takes one final sweeping glance, when something shiny catches her eye. Turning fully towards it, she gasps, “Wait! Grian! I see the lake!”
“You do?”
“Yeah! Over there!” Pearl points to where the last remnants of the sunset sparkle over the water of the lake, mostly obscured by trees and uphill to their current position. “It’s not too far! We’ve been running parallel to it, looks like.”
Grian laughs, full of incredulous relief. “Sounds about right for us. Let’s grab the gang and get going!”
Feeling rejuvenated in their discovery, Pearl and Grian sprint to where the others are waiting in a small clearing, seemingly focused on the ground at their feet.
“Please do not destroy my shoes,” Impulse is saying as Pearl and Grian come into earshot. Scar, wearing said shoes, pouts in response, and Mumbo looks to be weighing the merits of the option.
“We found the lake!” Grian shouts in excitement. “It’s just beyond that hill over there!”
The trio looks up from the shoe debacle in almost perfect sync, which Pearl can’t help but snicker at. “You did? We’ve been this close the whole time?” Mumbo passes a hand over his hair. “I thought we’d have to camp out right here!”
“Don’t be dramatic, my good sir, have some faith in us! We would’ve been fine,” Scar assures. “Though, having an exact location streamlines the process, I will admit.”
“You were just planning to cut Impulse’s trainers into sandals!” Mumbo retorts. “You have no standing to be calling me dramatic.”
“My toes are all cramped! I see where Impulse is coming from, unreasonable as it is, but it would’ve been worth—”
“Fellas!” Grian interrupts. “We can keep arguing about shoes all you want later, but for now it’s getting dark and we still have a couple hundred blocks to go. Let’s get a move on.”
“Fair point,” Mumbo concedes, holding a hand out to help Scar to his feet. After Scar’s up, they’re moving, anxious to get to the campsite.
The woods beyond the clearing are far darker than Pearl expected them to be, and the torches are broken out almost immediately. The birdsong that had accompanied the daylight is quiet, save for a few stray chirps here and there. Even amidst the shadow, while surrounded by the glow of the torchlight and soft chatter of her friends, tired from a long day of hiking, Pearl feels safe.
Nighttime has settled over the land entirely once they reach the lake. Stumbling through thick brush, Pearl breaks through to the water’s edge—only to find herself looking at the campsite, tiny from so far away, on the other side of the lake.
“…Well, at least we found the lake?” Impulse winces.
Mumbo sighs, picking loose a few thorns stuck in his shorts. “There’s no way we can walk all the way around, is there?”
“We could take boats across?” Scar suggests.
“That’s a great idea, actually! I packed a few extra, just in case.” Pearl pulls the boats’ compacted versions from her backpack, setting three down in the water and watching them grow to full size.
“You’re a lifesaver, Pearl,” Grian thanks, climbing into one of the boats. Scar settles in behind him, and Mumbo and Impulse get into the next one together, leaving Pearl with her own.
Grian’s boat leads the way, and as Pearl rows behind it, she catches sight of the stars, reflected against the water, disrupted by the ripple of her oars. Slowing to a stop, Pearl lets her boat drift as she looks up to admire the scene, filled with more galaxies than she could count, the moon hung high above. Stars all around her, in the water and night sky, Pearl feels like she’s floating through the void beneath the Boatem hole, untouched by the chaos of the world above.
Apparently noticing Pearl’s inaction, Impulse’s rowing peters out, and she waves to let him know she’s alright. After a moment, Mumbo calls out for Grian and Scar to stop, and the soft lapping of the water against Pearl’s boat and rustles from the surrounding forest are the only noises to break the silence as they all take in the view.
They soon start for the site once more, docking against the sandy bank. Five tents are arranged in a semicircle around a campfire, and dinner is shared over it. S’mores are an irreplaceable classic to any good camping trip, and after a proper mess of sticky marshmallow and gooey chocolate is made, Pearl bids her goodnight, and heads for her tent, exhausted in the best way.
In the morning, the hike back is easier than the one the day earlier, and they make it back to the van in the early afternoon. The drive back home is filled with blasted music and recounts of their adventures, and towards the end of it, Pearl isn’t the only person to catch a quick nap on the final stretch of road.
Returning to Boatem, Pearl sets down her bag and immediately goes for her sketchbook, stored by her bed in her little starter boat. She has so many ideas for her megabase.
(Reblogs do more than likes!)
#hermitcraft#pearlescentmoon#grian#mumbo jumbo#goodtimeswithscar#impulsesv#boatem#boatem village zine#hermitfic#my writing#zines#YEAHHH BOATEM ZINE#i adore everything about how this project came out
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MD: Echo Info Post #1 (Character Edition)
So I reblogged this image about wanting to (over) share about OCs... and then I got a mysterious message telling me to speak about my OCs... 👀(*cough* @inkyprince I said I'd tag you hehe *cough*)
So I've decided to just do it, lmao. I love sharing stuff about my OCs, stories and whatnot and this is my blog, imma do what I want!
Gotta lay out some trivia & information about my Murder Drones AU, Echo! Wether it be characters or concepts, because maybe it'll get some people interested :D All of the info is below the cut, and for the first iteration of this I've chosen Kira, aka "ZWEI", for this!
Kira - "ZWEI" - White Witch
A lot of her information can also be viewed on her ToyHouse Profile (logged in user only, sorry!)
Playlist - Pinterest - Voice Claim - Theme Song
Content Warnings: Mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts (non-explicit), chronic (terminal) illness (in... robot-terms?)
(older art, but it does the trick lmao)
Kira was one of the Drones that were tested and infected with the Absolute Solver code back in the 3040s and 50s in the Cabin Fever Lab Cathedral with her number being 24.
As a Communication Drone the Solver's abilities affected her in a different way than her fellow Worker Drones, causing the humans to become aware of certain powers that she exhibited which weren't displayed in other Drones.
Her "exorcism" (or, well, patch) was botched as Kira's OS wasn't capable of adapting to the patch version, causing it to corrupt and allow for a vunerability that lead to Echo (a mutated version of the AS) planting it's own code inside of Kira's, which jump-started Echo's influence on Communication Drones.
Kira's Solver is always active - that's why her eye doesn't return to normal and only ever displays the emblem. She overheats extremely easily all the time and is prone to physical pain and tinnitus due to her being unable to block out inbound signals if she picks them up.
This has her health deteriorating quickly over the course of the MD: Echo story, slowly succumbing from it, though she keeps on pushing forward to stop ECHO and it's hosts. She needs actual medication to keep the pain at bay and constantly consumes Oil at a high rate to stop overheating. If her Solver was to deactivate she'd most likely pass away within a few days.
Her secondary name, "ZWEI" means "Two" (or could also be interpreted as "the second") in German. It is a reference to her part in the story, as well as her connection to ECHO. (won't be spoilered for now 8D) She associates alot of trauma with it and doesn't like being referred by it.
Personality wise Kira seems fairly withdrawn from everyone around her except her friends and partner/family. If she's in a good headspace she's fairly open and confident, almost fierce in the way she appears to others. Kira's keen on keeping up a strong facade to not show strangers her weaknesses or true condition.
"But what are Communication Drones?"
I'm glad you asked! Communication Drones look like normal Workers, though the one thing that sets them apart are the two antennas on their head which can vary in size & style depending on their desired function (short-range, long-range, ground signals, air signals etc.)
These antennas function as ears for them, so if they're removed, their hearing is damaged (not entirely deaf, but definitely worsened). So if a "normal" CD loses their antennas they're having a harder time adapting as their intake of sound is greatly reduced.
As an AS user/host, Kira's able to pick up on stronger signals from far away or even sending out signals to stun/manipulate others around her in a short radius. This effect doesn't stay though, it'll wear off over time and actively consume energy from the Drone using it.
Disassembly Drones can also have the subtype of a Communication Drone as shown in the sketch below (left DD) - their antennas are usually shorter and made for short-range and aerial signals as they're capable of flight, too.
(I almost made them a polycule not going to lie they all hot as fuck) wish that was me-)
--
(Kira on her way to cast 'gun, prepare to meet god' in the face of a fucking angel-robot-AI that believes to be god itself)
Kira plays a big part in the MD: Echo universe next to some minor characters & canon characters. Her main motivation is to help stop Echo, as it also tries to infect her via the unstable Solver code in her OS.
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Crucifix Symbolism
(the power of christ compels you!)
Something very important to Kira is her botched patch / "exorcism". She's obsessed with crucifix looking symbolism which continues to haunt her almost 30 years later during MD: Echo's timeline.
She's desperate to break free from this, but cannot help herself. She compulsively collects cross-shaped imagery and in the first few months after her escape from the Lab she actively built crosses from all sorts of materials.
It's mainly coming from her OS being overwhelmed by the botched patch and the crucifix imagery of the USB burning itself in her memory files as some sort of "salvation" she has yet to achieve. Luckily, this started to fade out over the years, especially after meeting T who helped her to overcome the trauma of the incident.
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(CW: Mentions of Self-Harm)
After being infected by the Absolute Solver, Kira desperatly tried more than once to remove her antennas to keep the voices from appearing. It talked to her from the inside, but she didn't realize this yet. Like almost all other AS Users however she kept on regenerating, unable to escape the inner turmoil of the Solver's possession and Echo trying to get inside of her OS as well.
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Effects of the AS on her psyche
(holy shit have you ever seen a centipede that big? what is this? australia?)
Haunted by visions of the Solver, it's communications with the other Drones and later on the landing pods of the Disassembly Drones Kira had a hard time to tune out these visions she got from time to time. Similar to Nori in that regard Kira wrote everything down she heard through these intercepted signals, amassing hundreds of pages of logs she was able to get.
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Meeting her partner
("Girl I swear I have normal hands too don't be distracted by my sexy claws")
In the 3060s, she stumbled upon one of the Disassembly Drone squads outside of the colony's Outpost she was seeking shelter in. She had intercepted their landing pods signals and was "curious" to seek out whoever had arrived, trying to solve the mystery of whatever the Solver had her experience.
That's when she found Serial Designation T - the navigator of the squad, who at first attempted to kill her like he'd been tasked to do. After all, Kira was a Solver Host that couldn't be fully mind-controlled anymore. But in the middle of him attacking her T's code was halted by Cyn herself, deactivating his executive task to kill the Host he had infront of him. He himself didn't know why exactly the Solver did this, but in hindsight it was due to the fact that Kira was still able to be of use to it later on.
(POV: you deleted system32 from your PC because some random kid on roblox told you to)
Now neutral, T got curious about Kira whom he tried to speak to with her Kira (driven by curiosity on why he had stopped being aggressive all of a sudden, being able to intercept the communication he had with Cyn) staying to talk to him.
Over the following weeks the two grew acustomed with each other, slowly building a friendship that later on evolved into a more romantic nature. Kira hid him in the Outpost and brought in food for the two of them as she constantly needed oil as well.
#murder drones#murder drones: echo#MD: echo#my art#kira#murder drones au#murder drones oc#murder drones fanart#murder drones fanfiction#fanfiction#oc trivia#original character#trivia#my ramblings#oc info#info post#disassembly drone#absolute solver#solver host#solver user#tw: SH#tw: violence#tw: abuse
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