#trin writes

[adrift-in-thyme]

Sooo remember that blupee Wild post from yesterday? I wrote something for it

Forgive the quality I wrote it in less than an hour

—————————

Legend stops short, Wild’s name still hovering on his lips, waiting to be propelled into the indifferent grouping of trees. There are eyes glowing from within the blanket of ferns at his feet. Glowing golden irises rimmed in amber, staring from a heart shaped face of palest blue.

Two antenna twitch. A small nose wriggles.

Legend bends to one knee, holds out a hand.

“Hey there. You wouldn’t happen to know where that crazy cook went, would you?”

Again the nose moves, though this time it wrinkles slightly as though the being has smelt a stench.

“Alright, fine.” Legend sighs. “Do you know where Wild went?”

That earns him some small amount of favor. The creature runs a paw over its face, fluffing up the fur there. Then, with one small hop, it emerges from its hiding place. It settles down on its haunches right in front of the veteran and sneezes.

Legend gazes at it and it gazes at him. It looks for all the world like a rabbit, with its loping gate and compact form. Yet, the appendages atop its head are like vines stretching upward in their ascent towards light. Its eyes are endless pools of molten treasure. They speak of wisdom, of mystery. They are a map Legend has yet to obtain.

Its body is delicate. The magic that waltzes gently around it threatens to spirit it away. But there is a strength about it that calls to Legend’s soul. It is painted in the eruptions of royal blue burned into the side of its face, etched in craggy, sporadic splotches upon its chest and abdomen. It is housed in those eyes of an ethereal stranger, a beloved brother and friend.

Again, the veteran holds out his hand in invitation. His voice is even softer this time.

“I won’t hurt you, champion.”

I know, Wild’s eyes say. Because you’re like me.

Another two hops and he has deposited himself in Legend’s lap. The veteran’s breath catches at this display of easy trust. Long and arduous is the road they walk. Many have been the days when he and Wild have ended up together, two conflicting minds forced to meld into something complementary. But never had he allowed himself to imagine it would all lead to this.

How’d you know?

A soft head presses against his chest. Legend ducks his face into the fur and for a moment, breathes in the scent of bubbling springs and murmuring branches, whispering wind and moist river rocks, moss and magic and autumn leaves.

How’d you know it was me?

He chuckles. Delicate fingers crowned with jewels find the spot behind Wild’s ears and rub there. The champion makes a trilling sound deep in his throat, a melody as pleasant as a bird singing its jovial song amongst the trees.

“It’s as you said. I’m like you.”

There is something about rabbits, he decides, a thread that weaves between their hearts and minds, connecting them in ways far beyond what words can explain. So that they may find one another, helpless creatures though they may be.

He checks over Wild one more time, searching for an explanation to the champion’s sudden disappearance from camp. But there are none to be seen. No wounds. No disturbances in the pattern of quick breaths. No skips in the race his tiny heart runs.

Legend lies back on the firm, packed earth, and Wild immediately readjusts along with him. He curls around himself, head meeting bushy tail in the form of a snail’s circular shell. Legend’s fingers continue their trail along the curving form, silk turning skin soft.

Above them, the trees bow to one another, limbs meeting midway to filter the pale rays of the sun. A leaf flutters down toward them. Its lazy journey ends atop Wild’s body. He doesn’t seem to mind. A tiny sigh lifts his chest. He readjusts, blinks open one eye that probes Legend’s soul.

Hey…thanks, vet.

The veteran grins. “Never thought I’d hear you say that to me.”

There is no bite in his tone. The sarcasm usually biting is gentle, teasing.

The wounds were never outward to begin with. He knows that now. He should have seen it the moment Wild’s eyes grew wide as a memory took over, the moment afterward when his chest had heaved in subtle attempts at breath, and those in the days following when he had walked with slow steps, head bowed, smile a ghost ready to fade and flee.

He doesn’t know how the hero came to take this form. It doesn’t matter however.

Legend runs his hand over the tiny head and he understands.

[adrift-in-thyme]

@krissis-averted you know when I said this art had given me serious brainrot? Well…

This gorgeous, painful piece wouldn’t leave me alone so I wrote a little something inspired by it. I hope you don’t mind

CW for major character death and blood/injury

————————————

It is cold.

For some strange reason that is the thing his mind has chosen to fixate on. Out of everything else. The pain and the blood and the dread of death — it all seems to pale in the face of the cold.

It feels like Snowhead, Time thinks dimly. Or perhaps, like Zora’s Domain did when it was turned into a frozen tundra.

He coughs. Blood splatters into the snow.

The wolves surrounding him prowl closer, growls deepening. They sense weakness. They smell death. He cannot bring himself to care.

They have already torn him apart, ripped a hole in his abdomen, scattered his blood across the frozen ground. What more can they do?

He raises his head, with an effort, peering up at the crimson moon shining above them. It looks like the Blood Moon from Wild’s Hyrule. But it can’t be. He is not in Wild’s Hyrule.

Regardless, he hates it.

Usually such a sight fills his heart with dread. Now, it only seems to mock him.

I have won, it says. At last, I have won.

He lets his head droop again. Somehow, the crimson snow is easier to look at than that cursed thing in the sky.

A shiver runs through him. More of his life force drains away, soaked up eagerly by the unforgiving ice. Time drags in a breath.

He should rise, he should walk, attempt to find some way back to the camp, back to the warmth and company of his brothers, back to the ranch where Malon waits to welcome him home. He longs to do so. But he lacks the strength to move.

One wolf drifts towards him, eyeing him with something like curiosity. Perhaps, it is wondering how he is still breathing? Perhaps, asking how he got into this situation in the first place?

The Hero of Time, felled by a pack of common wolves. Time laughs and the sound is a bitter choked thing, soaked in sorrow.

It had not been so simple as that, however.

He had been wounded when he had fallen upon these icy slopes, plunging through one of the Shadow’s many portals. And when he had risen, dizzy from blood loss, weak with fatigue, and lacking either of his two prized swords…the wolves had been here to greet him.

His fallibility had drawn them like ravenous desbreko.

Wolves are mighty beasts, feral, and brave. But even they cannot resist easy prey now and then. And in the state he had been in, he had certainly been easy prey. Especially to wolves such as these. Though they do not look quite the same as the wolfos in his own era, they had been just as strong.

With their powerful paws, they had pushed him to the ground. With their sharp teeth, they had torn his flesh.

They had stopped only when his breathing became shallow, his vision dull and clouded. They had stopped only when he had stopped trying to fight back.

Perhaps, it just wasn’t fun for them anymore, at that point, no longer the sport they were hoping that it would be. Or…perhaps, these animals possess some strange sort of mercy.

Maybe they had looked at him, pathetic, gasping, and bleeding in a time that is not his own, separated from those he loves…and they had felt pity.

Time blinks, sluggishly attempting to clear his fading vision. The night that had once been so vivid, is now grayish and lackluster. The deep blues of the sky and distant pines, the reflections of navies and crimsons on the snow — none of it seems all that striking anymore.

The wolves’ eyes, however, those terrible blood-red orbs — those are still as piercing as ever. And when the curious one comes even closer, his gore-tinged muzzle almost touching Time’s face, a shiver runs through him.

Though, perhaps, that is only because of the cold.

It is within him now, rather than merely a product of the harsh elements. The fingers of death clutch at his heart. His strength has fled completely.

When he slumps sideways, when his cheek connects with ice, he hardly knows it.

The wolf nudges him. The movement is so different from its vicious attacks previously.

Get up, it seems to say, come on now, hero, rise and soldier on. Your regrets are many. They must be put to rest.

He gazes at the proud beast. It has kind eyes, he can see now, almost like his pup.

How very strange.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Because there is nothing more he can say to those who he loves, those who he is leaving behind.

Those who are far away, unable to hear him.

Time breathes and the exhale is hardly enough to create a cloud in the bitter air.

“I’m sorry.”

…

The wolf remains by his side through the bitter night. It and its brethren stand watch as the Hero of Time grows cold and stiff. As the blood he shed on the icy ground crystallizes beneath the assault of icy wind.

He has perished, after a lifetime of escaping death. But he has not done so alone.

His attackers guard him, never touching his body, never trying to tear the meat off of his bones. They merely remain, stalwart and strong, gazing into the endless expanse of snow.

And when a figure of gold, with a single eye of red, appears as though he is a product of the wind itself…they welcome him as they would their own kin.

Welcome, Hero of Time, they say in the howls that echo into the night. Welcome, hero with the heart of a proud beast. We have waited long for you.

In the shape of one's death

[sookats]

★ — lipstick stains .ᐟ

⤷ leaving lip marks on your bf

⌗ ft .∿ dream hyung line (mark, renjun, jeno, haechan) x reader

⌗ genre + warnings .∿ fluff + no warnings :)

⌗ trini’s note .∿ don’t ask why haechan’s is a full fanfic, idk either man 🧍🏽‍♀️

⤹ ⊹ mark lee .ᐟ

✶ mark was leaving for dance practice and you both knew that would take the whole day. which, made you create a plan to leave a mark on him, not a hickey but more of a glossy mark on his cheek. you cleaned yourself up a bit and before mark left, you gave a kiss goodbye. the first didn’t stick out as much, thus you did more, you planted more until you can see that clearly someone’s been kissing him. mark teased you and thought you were being clingy, you were technically but that’s not his business. he giggled at your kisses and assured you that he’d be home soon, not to worry about being alone for a long time.

as mark entered the studio, the boys side-eye each other and made inside jokes pointing at each other’s cheeks. mark was confused but wasn’t phased by it until jaemin started making kissing noises. he asked around about the joke, chenle took a pic of his cheek and showed him. the boy’s cheek was glossyyyy and smelled a bit like rose oil. the boys clowned him for the rest of practice and he became shy at the kisses you planted. during break he facetime you and showed you his cheek to ask you about it. you giggled and smirked at him, being everything but apologetic for your kisses. you wanted to leave him a gift while he was gone, at least it looks cute on him <3

⤹ ⊹ huang renjun .ᐟ

✶ it was a quiet night, you and renjun were doing self-care together as music played in the background. not much conversation was made as you two focused on each other’s skin routine, some smiles here and there and a few “it tickles”. as you were focusing putting moisturizer on him, you noticed how cute his features looked in the darkened ambience. the low lighting of your bathroom and the candles to add a scent that wavered all around grew something in you, you didn’t know what until you got a satisfied look on renjun.

he kissed you back, you kissed him again, and that continued until you saw his face become shiny and look too much like your lip mask. he turned around to look himself in the mirror and became shy at his new appearance. he groaned and asked why didn’t you kiss him before self-care hour, he joked that knows he has to rewash his face. you playfully rolled your eyes and continued on with your nightly routine.

⤹ ⊹ lee jeno .ᐟ

✶ another concert for the dreamies, except this one landing on jeno’s birthday. it saddened you a bit since you won’t get to spend jeno’s day with him but you still get to support him for the show :). as the show is close to begin, nctzens fill up the arena and jeno becomes nervous as it gets closer to showtime. you noticed him doing a breathing exercise, you held his hand and reassured him that he will be okay and do just fine, more than fine actually. he shook his head to agree, you smiled and rubbed his hand with your thumb as he calmed himself down.

jeno looked at you again and asked for a kiss before the show started, you were more than happy to kiss him, giving him three. a birthday kiss, before the show kiss, and a “you’ll do great” kiss, however, that last kiss left a pinkish-rose colored mark on his cheeks. you noticed but couldn’t say anything cause the boys had to rush to the stage.

once jeno introduced himself to the crowd, the lights cast down on them making the kiss mark noticeable. the boys murmured to one another as he spoke, chenle came up to him and swiped a bit of the mark, showing it to jeno. jeno’s eyes grew and felt embarrassed to walk out the stage with lipstick stains on him. for the rest of the show, he performed with the cheek mark, slightly embarrassed yet bashful from knowing you left a kiss mark on him. it has him smiling and enjoying the show more than usual, and plotting how to get more kisses from you after the show.

⤹ ⊹ lee haechan .ᐟ

✶ as another album is announced to the dreamies, and czennies, schedules become packed and the break your boyfriend had with you is long gone. promo shoots, studio recordings, dance practices, and constant meetings for the album, it was a never-ending schedule for the boys. though, that didn’t stop you from being there for haechan, he appreciated and needed you in busy times like these.

another photo shoot for the album and thankfully, your schedule cleared so you can be at haechan’s side. you came in the middle of his solo shoots and were jaw-dropped at the concept. haechan discussed it with you before but to see it in real life made your heart stir and grow butterflies for your gorgeous boyfriend.

as pictures were taken, he noticed your reactions and smiled at you. he had this sort of look, a certain smile that gave you a signal and both of you knew what that signal meant. he stopped the photoshoot and walked up to the staff, talking in a low voice so you didn’t hear him well. he nodded towards you and the staff took a glance at you, the motion made you feel slightly uneasy until haechan came up to you and announced that you two are having a photoshoot. of course, it was his idea, haechan explained that these photos were just for the both of us and not to be shared with the public, he’ll cover the extra cost don’t worry.

you grew excited and fixed yourself in a nearby mirror for this photoshoot. you applied another layer of lipgloss, thanking yourself that you wore the one that haechan adores the most. you placed your belongings down in a nearby chair that was by haechan’s, you made your way towards the area and the lights slightly blinded you. you positioned yourself next to haechan and stood a bit awkward until instructions were given.

the photographer started the two of you off with some couple hugs, holding hands, directing haechan to look you in the eyes so lovingly, etc. etc. at some point, the awkwardness in you left and you became comfortable in front of the camera, especially with haechan’s touch keeping you flustered and not anxious. one pose had you two almost kissing, lips ghosting one another, his head around your neck, and foreheads touching. he peered into your eyes as you took a look at his features; his pretty moles that has shown through the makeup, his round face that that gives off youthfulness, and his eyes that either make him look like a menace or an angel in love. haechan being haechan, he goes for the latter and steal a kiss from you. it shocked you but you didn’t relish in that shock after he kiss you again, again, again, multiple kisses stolen from you until your lip gloss is gone and on his lips now.

his lips have a tint to it now, he feels the lipgloss placed so messy by his own doing. he swipes a tiny portion of it off, examining his finger, and only saying, “whoops.” he smiles at you with such playfulness and goes back to posing as if nothing happened, the lip gloss staining his lip makeup and is easily shown on camera. even after your private shoot, he kept it on and rejected the makeup artist’s idea to fix it.

౨ৎ hey….hey. praise God im not dead, just overwhelmed and tired from recent events (the election)

౨ৎ i do wanna write for 7dream but my creative juices wouldn’t allow me. imma try guy again guys, trust !

౨ৎ lemme know if you guys want the maknae line or a pt 2 to this :)

౨ৎ lemme know which is your fav <3

kisses to you all and God bless you 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝟦𝗎. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[alexcabotgf]

THE MATRIX 1999 dir. The Wachowskis

[inigofication]

I think I finally understand why Bloodweave hits me so hard and why I love it so much… them being sort of narratively paired together, aside.

Gale is just a relatively normal looking dude. Astarion is like a fantasy poster child. I love their banters, like Astarion saying he enjoys their walks together, and Gale saying “count me in! I’m enjoying chaos now!” when Astarion says he wants to get up to some good ol’ DEBAUCHERY. It’s like. The perfect balance of Astarion’s influence on Gale with Gale being the most just like. Loving kind guy that Astarion needs.

[milkyplier]

For the word game: warmth + LU

💖💖💖💖

Legend shudders as he scoots closer to the fire, hands hovering mere inches from the flames. Despite the fact that he’s so close to it, the warmth of the fire does absolutely nothing to dislodge the cold settled in his bones.

“Careful, there, you’ll lose your fingers,” Time comments.

“I wouldn’t notice, anyway, I can’t feel them,” Legend complains.

“You would notice the next time you had to reach for a sword.”

“Guess I’ll die, then,” Legend grumbles, and Time just shakes his head.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 23: Shadows, “it’s gonna get me by the end of the night”

This one is kinda creepy again but. Well. That comes with the territory of dead hands...

Read on ao3

Warnings: blood, injury, uhhh lots of creepiness, being attacked by a monster in a kind of disturbing way

————————————————————

There was something in here with them.

Wild swallowed, looking around. He couldn’t say how he knew they weren’t alone, but the prickling on the back of his neck seemed to indicate a presence, one that wasn’t him or Wind. The problem was, the area itself was full of long shadows with barely a torch to fend them off with, and Wild looked nervously back at the stairs they’d recently descended.

He already wasn’t exactly the most fond of being underground, and he had a bad feeling.

“Aw man, a creepy basement,” Wind said with a groan. “Why do these places always have creepy basements?!”

“Beats me,” Wild said with an amused smile. It seemed like the complaint was mostly to hide what seemed to be Wind’s nervousness, as he was standing rather close to Wild’s side, and giving the darkness an anxious look.

“Maybe it’s a style thing,” Wild said thoughtfully. “Like, they build these or whatever, and one guy goes ‘hey you know what would be great right here? A creepy basement. Would really tie the whole dungeon together.’”

Wind laughed, and looked much less nervous as he looked out at the shadows again. Wild glanced at them as well, and squinted as his eye caught on something. Had something moved over there?

He really hoped not.

“Well, there are such things as non-creepy basements. I mean, Twilight’s basement isn’t creepy,” Wind said with a little grin, and Wild checked back into what he was saying. “Though it is full of junk. My grandma would say that’s scarier.”

Wild snorted as he and Wind began to walk into the room, feeling their way around walls, pausing to look around when they reached a torch. Wild pulled out an old branch he had and lit it, and after that, finding their way around the room was much easier.

It turned out to be what Wind said was a puzzle room, the two finding a suspicious platform, and a switch tucked in a dark corner. Pushing a block over to push it down didn’t make anything happen, but as they glanced around the area, Wild noticed some etching on the wall.

“There must be more switches we have to push,” Wind said thoughtfully. “Or else something would’ve happened.”

“There’s marks along the edge here,” Wild pointed out, pointing to four squares etched on the wall. One was filled in, and he and Wind both sighed as they realized there were three more switches to find.

“Guess we better get going.”

They continued through the shadowy maze, though as time went on and nothing jumped out at them, Wild’s uneasy feeling began to lighten. It seemed like the only thing to impede their progress was the confusing room and lack of light, and Wild was used to that. He’d done three labyrinths, after all.

No monsters appeared from the shadows to bother them as he and Wind located and pressed down two more switches, though Wild’s makeshift torch was nearly all the way burnt up by the time they found them both.

“Only one more!” Wind said cheerfully, and Wild smiled as they reached another hallway. “And that’s the only direction we haven’t gone yet, so it’s gotta be this way!”

“Good, then we can get out of here,” Wild said with another glance at the ceiling. He still didn’t like being underneath so many levels of dungeon and earth. It made him nervous.

Wind nodded, then his face took on a mischievous look.

“Race you there Wild!” he said with a grin, then before Wild could say a thing, he bolted off down the hallway and into the darkness.

“Hey— Sailor! Wait up!” Wild shouted, but Wind had already disappeared into the shadows.

Wild huffed, and bolted after him, though he did slow and peer nervously around walls and pillars. The air seemed colder this direction, a chill tricking down his spine, and Wild swallowed. The sense that they weren’t alone had gotten more intense again, and he suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this.

“Wind? Sailor, I think we should stick together!” he called, but received no reply except for his own echo.

...Had Wind really gotten out of earshot already?

Wild sped up a little, trying to watch his steps, but also catch up to Wind. He had to be around here somewhere, this area wasn’t that big.

Or at least, not the parts they’d been to already.

Wild turned a corner and found what seemed like a wide-open space, lit by nothing but a single torch next to where he stood. Right as he took a step forward, his stick finally burnt up, and Wild gulped.

He braced himself, and moved forward into the darkness, trying to calm his thudding heart.

There hasn’t been anything in here yet. There’s probably nothing here, and it’s only my imagination because being underground sucks—

Something let out a muffled shriek.

Wild jumped and whirled towards the noise, near instantly drawing a guardian sword he had in his inventory. The sword let out just enough of a glow for him to see a little ahead, and Wild cautiously moved forward, sword held high.

The floor had turned from stone to dirt at some point, and Wild’s footsteps were near soundless as he padded across it. Something crunched under his foot, and Wild looked down, an even bigger sense of foreboding rising in his throat as he stared at the bones he’d stepped on.

“Wind?” he called softly, afraid to speak too loud.

Something grabbed his ankle.

Wild shouted in surprise as whatever it was dug in, and before he could slash at it, another grabbed his other leg and knocked him to the ground.

He got an arm up and slashed at what he could see were pale hands on horribly long arms, bloodstained nails scrabbling at his boots. Wild managed to cut away the hands, but right as he scrambled to his feet, he heard something moving, right next to him.

He turned around, and almost dropped his sword.

A pale, bulbous creature stared at him, eyes dark holes, mouth opened impossibly wide as it grinned at him with bloodstained teeth. Wild couldn’t help but let out a horrified cry as it began to slither forward, and he felt a sudden urge to be sick.

What god decided such a horrible creature should even exist?

Wild backtracked so quickly he nearly tripped over his cape, but strangely enough the creature didn’t turn to him. It veered to the side, and as Wild regained his senses enough to go after it, he saw two eyes catch the light from his sword.

He turned, and met Wind’s frantic gaze.

The sailor was being held up by multiple of the same arms that had grabbed him, a hand covering his mouth. His eyes were wide with horror, and he was scrabbling frantically at the hand over his mouth, but more arms were holding him tightly in place, and all he could do was let out a muffled cry as he saw Wild.

Wild felt a burst of anger and jumped forward, slicing at the hands, but as soon as he chopped one, another two took their place. He’d lost sight of the main body in the shadows somewhere, but he was focused solely on Wind, slicing even more frantically when he saw the blood on his shoulder.

Had that thing bitten him?

He managed to slice away most of the hands holding Wind’s body in place, and the sailor fell to the ground with a cry. But before Wild could go to him, a hand tangled itself in his cape, and Wild cried out as he fell to the dirt as well, more hands near instantly grabbing him.

They pinned him down, grasping at his face and clothes, and Wild clung desperately to his weapon. He knew if he dropped it he’d have almost no chance of getting it back.

But the hands had figured him out, and they squeezed his wrist, clawing at his hand, and Wild physically couldn’t hold onto the blade any longer. The guardian sword fell to the dirt, and Wild felt more hands come up and grab him, no matter how he struggled.

A burrowing noise sounded out, and Wild looked over in terror as the fleshy body crawled out of the dirt, that horrifyingly long neck turning in his direction.

He was it’s target now.

“Wi—!” he screamed, but then a hand covered his mouth, and all he could do was thrash in silence as the monster slithered nearer and nearer.

A hand turned his face towards it, and Wild breathed quickly through his nose, nearly gagging at the smell of decay and blood that came from the hands on his face. They tilted him up as the head of the main body drew near, lit an eerie blue by his dropped sword. Wild couldn’t help his whimper as the face leaned down, its jaws opening impossibly wide.

And then it bit down on the side of his face.

Wild screamed, the sound muffled by the hands still covering his mouth as fiery pain made his vision spotty, the feel of the monster biting down on him nothing short of horrific. The seconds seemed to stretch on endlessly as it continued to gnaw, sucking up his blood, and Wild was nearly sick as it made a particularly satisfied noise.

Somehow the fact that the monster was actively feeding on him, biting him, attacking him only to satiate some kind of awful hunger, made it twice as worse.

All he was was prey to it.

Wild let out a muffled sob as he thrashed again, but the hands only held him more firmly, a hand holding his cheek in a way that would almost have been loving from anything else. Pain and revulsion were making his head spin, and Wild squeezed his eyes shut, tears gathering in the corners.

And then he heard an angry yell.

Suddenly the pressure on his face was gone, and Wild heard another shout, catching sight of Wind throwing himself forward, his face pale but expression furious.

“Stop chewing on my brother!” The sailor screamed, then twisted himself around into a huge spin attack that Wild could barely watch. The wind it kicked up buffeted Wild’s face like a hurricane, and the hands still grasping him let go, dropping Wild to the ground with a groan.

An awful moaning sound rent the air, and Wild watched through the blood dripping down his face as Wind hit the main body of the monster once, twice, three— so many times he couldn’t keep track of the number.

But Wind finally stopped, holding a hand to his head as he stumbled, and the body of the monster fell to the ground.

Wind was suddenly at his side, grabbing his shoulder, and they watched in silence as the monster twitched slightly, then disappeared into dark smoke along with all of the arms.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was of Wind and Wild’s heavy breathing.

“I-I think... I think it’s gone,” Wind said finally, his voice shaking, and Wild gripped his arm, unsure if he or Wind was the one trembling.

“Yeah,” Wild choked out, and Wind turned to him, immediately leaning in to look at his face.

“Oh no, ohh— Wild I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you faster,” Wind gasped, and Wild shook his head, closing his one eye as blood threatened to drip into it.

“Y-you couldn’t have...” Wild got out, and Wind turned to rifle through his bag, his movements frantic. “...Sailor?”

Wind had made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, and Wild reached over to squeeze his hand, Wind shakily gripping it back.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Wind leaned up against Wild’s shoulder, Wind leaning back as they finished catching their breath.

“...That was worse then redeads,” Wind said finally, looking away, and Wild felt his eyes sting a little at the memory of the monster’s endless hands, it’s horrible main body and how it bitten down on them both...

It truly had been awful.

“I’ve never seen a redead, but based on th-the name... I don’t ever w-want to. Are they l-like... dead twice over..?” Wild asked, and Wind looked at him, eyes shiny in the light of Wild’s sword, blood still trickling down his shoulder.

Then he let out a wet laugh, and pulled out a bottle with some kind of potion in it, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Something like that,” Wind said thickly, and Wild pressed the side of his head that wasn’t a mess against Wind’s. He breathed out, and focused on Wind’s warm skin against his, not cold, not undead, not trying to devour him.

“Thanks sailor,” he said in a wavering voice, and Wind made another noise that Wild pointedly ignored, squeezing Wind’s hand.

“Thank you too,” Wind whispered back.

[headstrongblake]

@thewholecrew: [ TRAINING ]: during a sparring match, sender ends up pinning the receiver against the wall & you've changed / grant & o

green hues rolled as she surveyed the gym—of course, on the night she needed a sparring partner to ease what n.a couldn't lately, the gym only had one other person beating a punching bag—her ex-boyfriend, of all people. if she called rev, they'd probably be down in a heartbeat, but that would mean pulling their attention away from alec, something neither of them was keen on to begin with. she could walk back out the door and hit another meeting but, the last two hadn't helped, what good would a third do?

with a huff, octavia moved further into the gym, dropping her bag by the mats before grabbing wraps for her hand. by now, she was sure he knew she was there, probably had known since she walked into the damn place, but finally, she addressed him, "you interested in getting your ass kicked tonight?" octavia lifted her brow beginning to wrap her hands in preparation like she's done a hundred times since he'd taken off with garrett, waiting for his response. though somehow, she knew he wouldn't refuse. not her.

although she didn't show it, octavia was thankful when he agreed to spar with her. ever since finding nick's stash, she felt a little like she was skating on thin ice. she's 326 days sober, so fucking close to the year mark, she's not about to screw that up now. but as he neared her, asking her how she was doing, her eyes narrowed. "we don't need to do this, though. i just need a fight, okay?"

with that, octavia dove in with her all. going at grant with her speedy, controlled moves rev's engrained in her, along with her aggression that's only grown stronger. it's like an intricate dance where they dodge each other's moves. back and forth until nearly all of her thoughts of using melt away in the heat of their movements, only able to focus on grant's next moves, trying to calculate what he'll do ahead of time. but she's perhaps a little too focused, still too in her head because he gains the upper hand without her realizing it. guiding and cornering her backwards until her back is pressed against the gym wall with his arm across her chest, pinning her there. dark hues focus on his as she pants, glaring a little because he's bested her. "you've changed."

her jaw clenched at his words. it's not untrue. not in the least bit because even she knows there's a clear difference between who she'd been before nick's torture and after. but to hear it come from him? her eyes fell, nodding silently as she licked her lower lip. suddenly, she felt much too close to him, suffocating like he could see into her again like he used to. yet now, he had no right. she had no desire to let him see her damaged self or her heart. hues scanned over him, taking note of his stance and where he appeared to be lowering his defence before she glanced back up at his eyes. "yeah, i have," she answered firmly, "guess i have you to thank for that." octavia scolded, finding a quick weakness in his stance as her fist drove into his side, creating space before she used rev's favourite leg sweep to knock his feet out from under him.

standing above, octavia lifted a brow his way. "i win," she muttered, about to turn away from grant as he took his chance, knocking her footing out from underneath her and causing her to tumble. her hands stretched out to catch herself, but she landed almost directly on top of him. eyes widened as they made contact, connecting as she rested above him. both their chests panted against each other, and for a fractional second, the longing she ached with for grant leaked into her gaze. her lips parted, "i..." but the jingle of the bell on the gym door caught her attention, silencing her as she glanced up to see trinity's surprised features quickly morph as she turned on her heels. "trinity! wait!" shit, she thought as octavia scrambled to get up off of grant.

[sentimentallyannoying]

if i had any writing ability left whatsoever i’d totally make a steddie Juno (2007) au

[chaosintheavenue]

Admiring her letterwork.

Also known as, I added a teeny bit of Traylink (the name of her camp mini settlement) lore to her bedroom wall, because she absolutely would.

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

Red Alert; an AU Guild Wars 2 Story

The Tideturners have lived in secrecy for decades, their operations hidden deep within the heart of the Mists. Rarely have they ever dared to reach out to the myriad of worlds that exist beyond their headquarters-- but things are changing. Time ticks away. The horizon draws closer. They cannot afford to hide away forever.

When the Commander was contacted by their head of security and offered a tentative alliance, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Why him? Why now? Who even are these masked strangers that all seem to know him so much better than he knows any of them? It was unsettling even back then, but now he knows exactly why.

Tick tock. Tick tock. It was a daring move, breaking into the Sidewinder's office to search for the answers, but the truth of this place is finally in his hands. If only it didn't leave him with so many more questions than answers. How can he possibly trust them now?

He has no idea how much his old adversaries feel the same.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

      The Sidewinder had always claimed that ASP’s security features shone crimson as a warning. Few had reason to doubt her claims; it made sense after all, didn’t it? Red was the color of blood. Danger. Risk. Injury. Who wouldn’t take it seriously? That was certainly how the Inquest used it, and the message never went questioned for long. To most, it was as logical an explanation as any– and there was no reason to ask any further after that.

     What else, after all, could the color red possibly mean?

     The Commander had almost forgotten, after all these years.

     Alarms blared, shrieking into the Turnabout’s main office from every direction. Every circuit flared with sharp, biting crimson, flickering along the wires and making the electric lighting overhead sputter and spark as if on the verge of a short. Power surged all around them– all from a source that he now knew all too well. How had he been such a fool?

      “Mai.” A single word left the asura’s lips. That was all he needed to say.

      The masked figure before him bowed her head. Acknowledgement, yet defiance remained as her shoulders rolled, the dangling chain links of her mechanical pauldrons rattling. He didn’t need to know what expression lay behind that disguise; he could already guess. Or, at least, he was pretty sure he could.

       “You know,” hummed a familiar electronic voice from a nearby speaker, “This really is no way to repay our generosity. Breaking into our humble workplace, after we so graciously invited you into our home? Tsk tsk. You really are a shameless little rat. Pity we didn’t set up any mousetraps for you.” Even laced with a heavy layer of static, he knew that voice well.

       “Don’t play coy with me. I know who you are, too.” The Commander’s voice was quivering. “The red energy signature, the morbid jokes, that pretentious attitude… Mai’s identity was just the last piece of the puzzle.” His eyes narrowed, jaw set as he glared into the closest camera. “You really had me going for a bit there, too. I almost believed you might be the real deal.” A twisted laugh echoed through the room, tinny as it reverberated from every intercom at once.

      He knew that laugh, too. He’d certainly heard it enough times.

      Red meant danger. Red meant fire and molten metal.

     But most of all, it also meant Scarlet Briar.

     “Come now, I would have thought the truth would be even more impressive! It’s not every day you meet a literal ghost in the machine, darling.” The Commander rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

     “Oh please. Every Inquest flunkie knows how to merge a living being with a golem, it’s not that impressive. I’ve encountered at least a dozen different biomechanical prototypes over the course of my career.” An annoyed ‘tch’ could be heard crackling through the speakers.

     “And how many of them were able to utilize that procedure to anchor a Fractalized echo, hm?” He had to admit, hearing her actually sound a bit irritated was a nice change of pace. “Or, say, give that spirit total control over a supercomputer hub and by extension, the entire facility it operates? None, I imagine. But you silly little asura do so love to think you’re the smartest ones in the room…”

     “Hm,” he remarked, unable to resist poking the bear one last time, “I think you just described yourself, actually.” A sharp pneumatic hiss rattled maintenance pipes in the ceiling, and he couldn’t quite tell if the technomancer’s invocation was hissing at him on purpose or had literally blown a gasket. He suspected it to be a bit of both.

      But the altercation was swiftly cut off as one boot thumped the floor impatiently. The Sidewinder didn’t look impressed; her tense body posture spoke louder than any words. The gleaming golden claws of one gauntlet were gripping a pistol at her hip, though she hadn’t yet drawn it. He studied her for a long moment, waiting. She made no move to approach.

     “Whatever you may think of me,” she growled finally through rattling hardware, “This doesn’t have to end in a fight. Surrender quietly and we can put this behind us.” The Commander fell silent.

     There was something in her voice that he hadn’t caught before. It was easy to miss behind the layers of electronic filtering, but… The more he focused on it, the more certain he was. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the revelation, something twisting unpleasantly in his gut. Suddenly he wondered if that mask was worn to disguise more than just her identity.

     … She was scared of him. The Sidewinder wasn’t shaking from anger, but fear.

     And in spite of all the poking and prodding, ASP still hadn’t made a single attempt to harm him. Neither of the two had, waiting for him to make the first move. They didn’t want to fight.

     The Commander wasn’t the type to back down from a scrap, no matter how impossible the odds. He’d taken on entire armies practically alone, slain massive heaps of raging dragon corruption, dismantled legions of mechanical horrors. He wasn’t afraid to use force if he had to– but that was just it, wasn’t it? He could feel his own hands shaking. This doesn’t have to end in a fight. The Mai he’d known rarely showed that kind of restraint. She only ever gave up when pushed into a corner, beaten down and hopeless.

     This woman was so broken she’d given up before the battle even began.

     There was no honor to be found in defeating someone like that. The mere thought of it just made him feel like a mean-spirited bully.

     A long, heavy sigh escaped the asura’s lips and, with no small amount of reluctance… He allowed his weapons to clatter to the floor. The Commander hoped he wasn’t going to regret that. For a long moment all was silent aside from the continuous blare of that alarm.

     “... Er..” To his amusement, the Sidewinder actually sounded a bit incredulous. “You’re.. Actually surrendering?” She straightened slowly, as if unsure what exactly she should be doing under these circumstances; this clearly wasn’t an outcome she’d actually expected. Even ASP seemed to be at a loss for words, her various jade tech artillery modules around the room slowly lowering in apparent confusion. Clearly the ‘AI’ wasn’t as much of a loose cannon as she liked to pretend.

     It wasn’t something he was used to doing either, but… This time, it felt like the right choice. The Commander nodded. “I am.” His former adversary only seemed to be even more perplexed, shifting her weight back and forth awkwardly before glancing pointedly at his dropped weapons.

     “... If I were to pass on what happened here, you'd be imprisoned at best, but most likely banished from the premises.” He could hear the inner conflict in the Sidewinder's tone. She paused for a long moment, head slightly lowered; only after seeing her nod a few times did he realize she was conducting a silent conversation with ASP. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she lifted one gauntlet and snapped her fingers.

     ASP’s alarms went silent as all the room's defenses retreated back into their hidden panels. All that remained of ASP's presence now were a few illuminated screens and the Sidewinder herself, her mask's red eyes watching the Commander in silent contemplation. He didn't interrupt, waiting patiently for her final verdict– only for the staring contest to finally break as she made a gruff ‘ahem’ into one gauntlet.

     “... Just put those away,” she ordered finally. “Gods know what sort of magical radiation you're packing. I'd rather not risk frying my hardware by handling them, but if anyone catches you armed then you're on your own.” He knows what she really means and won't say; if she confiscated his weapons they’d have to be logged. She's keeping him off the books. He gave her a nod of understanding and finally crouched to retrieve them, returning the weapons to his bag.

     “It really isn't an act, is it?” he inquired finally. “When I broke in here I assumed you were trying to pull a fast one on me, but…” Glancing to the cameras, he frowned. “You two really aren't planning anything are you?” The Sidewinder snorted quietly.

     “Oh you silly thing,” chuckled ASP with no small amount of amusement, “You really thought that, what, we lured you here as part of some nefarious trap? Come now, we both know I'm a more effective schemer than that.”

     “What she means to say,” clarified the Sidewinder with an exasperated shake of her head, “is that if we wanted to hurt you, leading you right into our base would be one hell of a stupid way to start.” One hand raised, resting on the side of her mask. Hesitation. “But… I get it. You don't trust us, and we don't trust you. Sooner or later something was going to have to give, and I know hiding so much didn't do us any favors. It’s time we talked… Face to face.”

     Click. The mask popped loose, electronics flickering out as it slid forward from the mechanical latches shifting underneath. When she drew it away, the sharp gaze that met the Commander's eyes told him everything.

      The woman staring back at him with weary eyes certainly was Mai Trin… But not as he'd ever seen her.

      She looked so tired and worn. Scars marked her jaw and vanished down into the collar of her coat, tracing old chemical burns that must have been excruciatingly painful. The wear of many years was written all over her features; he couldn't tell whether she was really that much older than the Mai he'd known, or if those creases had been carved by stress and pressure alone. This was the face of someone who'd been through the depths of hell and brought it back with her. There was no escape from the nightmares that lived on in her eyes.

     When he'd seen Mai drunken and rambling, abandoned by her crew with nothing left of her legacy except the barely coherent spirit of her former boss, he thought that was as damaged as the woman could possibly get. Maybe the Sidewinder was more stable, but he couldn't begin to imagine what could leave her with such a deeply haunted look. The Commander knew that look, though. He knew it very, very well.

      It was the same he saw whenever he looked in the mirror, thinking about all the things he could've done differently and all the lives he couldn't save.

      The Commander's gaze softened. Mai had wanted so desperately to be more than the horrors of her past. But in the end, no matter how far she ran, the darkness of her history always had a way of catching her up and dragging her down with it. He doubted this was what she'd had in mind, but it proved one thing he'd only ever been able to guess at before.

      … All she'd ever really needed was a chance to be someone better.

      “I shouldn't have ransacked your files,” he admitted, scratching behind one ear. “That was pretty reckless, even with my suspicions. I thought I knew what I was getting into, but… I apologize for misjudging you.” The Commander thought for a moment, brows furrowing. “Your version of Scarlet isn't exactly the industry standard either, is she?”

      “Well you certainly did find the rudest possible way to phrase that, now didn't you?” the invocation huffed. “But no, I suppose I'm not what you would consider a ‘standard’ echo of Scarlet Briar, as far as the Mists are concerned. Though I like to think that's a good thing.”

      “She died early,” the Sidewinder elaborated quietly. “Before the war even began. Her Alliance had barely even come together. Because of that she's a lot less… Corrupted. Turns out not having a dragon in her head does wonders for her sanity.”

     “See? As I said, it's a good thing.” Despite the revenant's somber tone, he could've sworn ASP sounded more chipper than ever. “I for one quite like being stable and well-adjusted. Isn't it nice when we aren't trying to kill each other?” In spite of himself, the Commander couldn't help a slight wry smile. He was starting to grasp her sense of humor a little bit more. For all her jokes, she was all bark and no bite.

      The last thing ASP wanted was to go back to square one.

      “Well, it's an improvement.” He maintained that smile. “At least now when you get an itchy trigger finger, you don't actually follow through on it.”

      “Exactly!” she cackled, apparently ecstatic that he was playing along. “See Mai, he gets it! These days I just traumatize nuisances with words instead of violence. It’s MUCH more efficient and I don't get confined to a toaster for maiming some incompetent clerk that doesn't know what an arcanomatrix cryotemperate modulator is.” The Sidewinder rubbed one hand over her face with the most drawn out exasperated sigh he'd ever heard. And that was quite a feat considering how many ridiculous questions had been asked of his poor college professors in class…

     “Please don't encourage her,” she groaned. “You're going to give me a hangover and I haven't even started drinking yet.” The Commander raised an eyebrow at her thoughtfully.

     “... ‘Yet?’ So I take it you haven’t kicked that habit?”

     “Try getting through a day with that menace rattling around in your skull and you'll understand.” ASP gasped in feign offense, but the theatrics were sign enough that she wasn't actually upset. He was starting to figure that out pretty quickly.

     … The two of them really were just joking around with him now weren't they? It was a surprisingly comforting revelation– not only that they trusted him enough to include him in their banter… But that he also felt good enough about it to join in naturally, too. Maybe, just maybe, this was going to work out okay in the end. Their casual snark actually reminded him of some of his friends from Dragon's Watch.

     “Fair enough,” he agreed, that smile still in place– even as ASP let out another offended gasp in turn. It was remarkable how quickly the tension had melted away now that they were actually being transparent with each other. Maybe that was all they’d really needed.

     A leap of faith, no matter what consequences it may entail.

     “Well, while you two were ganging up on me like the little traitors you are,” ASP bit back, “I’ve gone ahead and finished logging this security breach as a hardware malfunction in the official records. You’re welcome, you ungrateful drones.” He caught a faint ‘snrk’ from the Sidewinder.

     “Yes, thank you ASP.” With that, she made a swiping gesture in front of her with one gauntlet to summon a levitating holotablet, and then swiped and tapped a few more times before dismissing the display with a flick. “There, went ahead and cleared out my schedule for the day. I have a feeling this chat might take some time, Commander.” With that, she retrieved a stool from the edge of the room and placed it next to her desk, flopping into her own seat with a surprisingly casual air. He almost expected her to put her boots on the table, but apparently that level of disdain was strictly reserved for business meetings and politics.

     Understanding the prompt, he took a seat on the stool with a nod of agreement. “Then we’d better get started. I think we’ve got a lot to catch up on, Mai.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

     It was a bit haunting, she thought. The look on his face as she concluded her briefing felt so strange to her. Perhaps this Commander was full of surprises. And perhaps he wasn’t. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure whether his reaction was what she expected or not.

     Such keen sympathy wasn’t something she was accustomed to seeing on that face.

     But, for all his familiarity, the person wearing that face was much different from the one she’d known. And the Sidewinder had known that– of course she did– but had she been prepared for it? Not as well as she’d thought, it seemed. Even knowing the heart that beat within him was kind and warm, she still found herself waiting to find cold, bitter ice waiting in his eyes.

     This wasn’t her Commander. And she’d keep reminding herself of that until she believed it.

     “... I’m sorry,” he spoke finally. “It does explain a lot, though. And.. Strange as it is, I can relate.” The asura’s brows creased once more, studying her briefly before glancing at the red flickers that danced along a magitech display. “It seems like everyone around this place has a knack for defying expectations.” She caught the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, if for just a moment. But then it was gone– and he fixed his focused golden eyes on her once more, contemplative. “But… There’s one more thing I’d like to ask, if I may.” The Sidewinder felt her jaw clench ever-so-slightly, but she gave him a nod nonetheless.

    “Alright, ask away.” She had a bad feeling she already knew what his question would be.

    “... You never mentioned the Grand High Sovereign’s name.” She hated when she was right.

    “Trust me,” she answered quietly. “You’re better off not knowing.”

    But she could already see the answer in his eyes. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t telling him. She didn’t have to. He already knew. There was no hiding this truth from him, no matter how deeply she wished to. The guard rails were already off, and it was far too late to put them back on.

     Commander Ruju watched her silently with those tired, tired eyes, and she couldn’t help thinking how much different the two were. His expression was weary in a way that only the living could accomplish; there was a fire still burning deep within, smoldering under a layer of long-blackened ash. He kept it guarded carefully, but if you were to set your hand over the cinders, you would still sear your fingers on its concealed flame. Resolve like that had been tempered by a lifetime of strain, endlessly fighting against the flow of fate.

      The Ruju she’d known was empty and cold, forever seeking the darkness that would one day fill in where a living heart was meant to beat. There was nothing in his eyes, not even hate. That asura had felt more like a machine than a living being even before he replaced so much of his body with rigid, unfeeling metal. Now she wasn’t sure if he had a living heart at all.

      What had made him that way? The Sidewinder didn’t know, and likely never would.

      He lowered his eyes finally, one stubby claw starting to trace circles on the desk in front of him. “That’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” She couldn’t quite identify the emotion in his voice. Regret? Frustration? Resignation? All of the above? “I’m the only option you haven’t tried.” There was no blame in it, though. She almost wished that there was.

       “Lots of Commanders have tried,” the Sidewinder admitted. “None of them survived. You–”

       “I can do it.” Her heart sank, breath hitching sharply. “I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. I might be the only one who can.” The earnest fire that broke out in his voice– the fierce resolve. She knew that expression, and she was never, ever going to let this happen again.

       “Don’t.” He seemed almost taken aback by the firmness of her tone. “The last thing we need to do is to feed another corpse into that lunatic’s meat grinder.”

       “Your chances of survival are roughly 0.000001 percent, dear,” ASP chimed in coldly. “And that’s assuming you flee at the start of battle. Victory? That’s a hard 0. I’ve run the statistics. And believe you me, a supercomputer powered by an intellect like mine simply doesn’t make errors.”

       Commander Ruju paused at that, but she could tell he was thinking. Finally there was a light tap of his nail against the table once more. His resolve was unwavering, but she saw something else this time– a flash of cunning. Maybe he was most used to having immense brute force on his side, but… That wasn’t how he got his start. Before Ruju was a soldier, he was a scientist.

      “Then, how do we even the odds?” The Sidewinder could feel her invocation smile.

      “... That’s more like it. Now you’re thinking like a strategist, Commander.”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Anyone up for an angsty little fic? XD

I wrote this for whumptober but never could find a prompt that fit it. So I’m publishing it now instead!

CW for blood and injury, referenced torture, and burn wounds

———————————————————

The world is blinding and it burns.

Time grits his teeth, turns from it in an effort to escape the light. Endless and crackling, reaching out, snapping back, a whip seeking an unsuspecting back.

Someone is screaming. He knows it is not him.

“What-what…no!” A foot clad in crimson stomps once, twice, a masked face bobbing in time with it. “No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Fools. Time thinks. Fools and cowards.

The Yiga have brought this upon themselves.

Days, perhaps weeks of torture and experimentation have led to this. He only wishes he could have stopped it. Not for their sake. No, never for theirs. For all he cares, they can writhe beneath lightning’s brutal claws, screech, and scramble like insects trying to escape a boot.

Not for their sake does guilt pierce his soul. For Sky’s.

He lies in the center of the room, the sun in the center of a universe of destruction. Trembling with power, choking on fear, his cries ring in the hero’s ears like the bells in the Temple of Time.

The Yiga are running – the surviving ones, at least. Time can smell the smoke of their stealthy escapes. It hardly manages to permeate the heavy scent of electric death.

He breathes in, exhale hitching as he tries to move. His wounds ache and blood clings to him, dripping from the shreds of his tunic. He must get up though, he must get free.

He has to reach Sky before this power tears him apart.

The ropes around his wrists are frayed, bristling with the relentless aggression of his struggles. Day after day the Yiga had yanked him back, sliced at the fingers trying to pull at the hulking knots, aimed kicks at his stomach, his head, his back – anything to get him to cease trying to escape.

Cease trying to reach Sky.

His throat aches from shouting his name. His head pounds from sobbing.

Time contorts throbbing hands in a half-circle his wrists shriek against, pawing desperately at the same bonds that have held fast all this time.

Their strength had not been their own. This moment, they crumple beneath his force. This moment, they fall.

He is up in an instant, scrambling, gritting his teeth against the way everything shouts and screams and erupts into dazzling bursts of light and color, color and light that all take on the shade of red.

He coughs. Something damp and clammy hits the ground.

“Sky!”

One of his feet isn’t moving right. It feels like someone has wrenched it off, screwed it back on backwards. It doesn’t matter. What won’t move, will be dragged.

“Sky!”

“Time!”

The eyes that turn, tear-filled and pleading to him, match the tongues of lightning that lash out at his unarmored form. They are like the shooting stars he and Malon used to watch as they blazed across the Hyrulean sky.

Sky inhales and the force of it is nails scraping against metal, calloused fingers against a blade.

“Help me!”

The scream is a collection of shattered glass, raining down upon the room in terrible, glinting projectiles. Time winces with the pain of it.

“I’m coming.”

He chokes it out more than speaks it.

“I’m coming, Sky, just…”

He coughs again, stumbles, catches himself on the wall. It is wet with a substance he would rather not contemplate the existence of. He pushes off of it and keeps going.

The lightning reaches for him, tantalizing, hypnotic. Determined, he fights to reach it.

“Just hold on. Hold on!”

The first of them snaps back, connects with vicious precision with his thigh. He cries out, nearly crumples, and trips right into another. It sends a jolt through his side, snaking rapidly in and out of bones he didn’t even register having.

What will you do once you reach him? His mind hisses, doubtful, pessimistic. What will you do when, bloodied and broken, you fall beside him? Will you touch his shoulder? Draw him into your arms?

What good will comfort do?

He reaches for an answer. He has none. Only his mission and his determination to accomplish it.

Time grits his teeth and he presses on.

Sky screams his name again. Lightning strikes again. It is all around him now, a hurricane whose eye he is swimming towards. A hurricane that is tearing him apart.

They devour like ravenous wolfos. Streaking through muscle and sinew, razing them like fields of sun-warmed wheat; splintering bones, boiling blood. He is breathing the life-giving liquid, tasting it, smelling it. It pours from his mouth and eyes and nose, peppers the ground like a morbid artwork. It mixes with the pungent wetness of his tears and tears, melds with sickly yellow bile he cannot keep down.

“Sky…” He tries to call. He is close to him now, so close. If he just extends his arm…

His next inhale is hardly enough to be called one. At some point walking became impossible. He can’t recall when. But now he pulls himself along like a newborn babe.

Even that is too much for his body.

It smells like death. It smells like burning bodies.

He will not give up, though, not now. Sky needs him.

A trembling hand goes up, goes out, seeking its destination. An exhausted body exerts the last of its strength to lunge.

Time won’t allow himself to scream. But as he brings Sky into his arms, he can’t keep back a cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I so, so sorry,” sobs the shattered boy who has collapsed into him. “I can’t stop it. I can’t stop it!”

It hurts. Darkness is beginning to join the endless light.

The world is blinding and it burns. Oh, it burns. Worse than the magma of Death Mountain, worse than the clawing grasp of a deadhand, the sting of a skulltula.

It doesn’t matter.

“You can,” he croaks and pulls Sky closer. “I believe that you can.”

Time has not thought of himself as naive in a very, very long time. But for a split second, drenched in guilt, he wonders if, perhaps, he is being so now.

He shoves the thought away, drowns it beneath the battle of staying awake and staying alive.

Sky lets loose a cry like a warrior who has lost a great battle. A sound that is dazzling in its ferocity, terrifying in its grief.

“Please, please just leave.” He lifts his face, blood and soot and snot made stark against a backdrop of silvery white. “I’m gonna hurt you more than I already have! Leave!”

He tries to shove away, but it is a weak attempt. Time holds him closer.

“I won’t leave you.”

Talking is a struggle, breathing is a struggle. How long can he keep doing both?

As long as it takes.

“I am used to storms.” He smiles and that hurts as well. The expression tears at fragile flesh. “I have never run from one.

“And I refuse to do so now.”

[piperjistic]

Aspiration Deprivation- Trin

“So Trin, what do you want to do now?”

They both stood in front of her newly acquired house, wishing a farewell to the keybearer. She graduated from school and signed for the quaint central house, provided by the Citrine Batch TM. Boxes ready to move in sit beside them.

She took a deep breath. She response is confident and decisive.

“I… don’t know.”

Her mother quirks a brow up at her. “Don’t know?”

Trin nods, just as confident and decisive as her initial answer, minus the “-eh” afterwards. No- The older woman shakes her head at that… ridiculous answer. “Yes you do, of course you do.”

“I… suppose-“ Adjusting the box in hand, ”— I could finish moving into the house with these boxes.”

That wasn’t the right answer, as her mother’s frown grows, but it was better than nothing.

“You specialized in craftsmanship during school? I remember you often doing crafts of sorts when coming home.”

“Ehhh, no. More like my teachers liked my handwork and I went with that. I mean I picked up a lot of side classes to know more about stuff rather with my specialization.”

She tskes out basic cleaning supplies out the box. It was a specialized plan for Trin. The schoolhead had a discussion with her parents after her screening and interview. She was literally there. Her major, more attentive classes focused on her sewing, building, blacksmithing, and so on. Practical skills guaranteed to get business and trades that also doubled to living independently. She liked them, genuinely, it kept her hands busy and mind busy. And trading would keep her uncluttered. She only kept a few crafts from school, the others she either traded away or let the school display them.

She chipped away at crafts while she did whatever other classes her mentor and teachers recommended. It was all interesting, fascinating even: the evolution of architecture, herbal medicine, and stretching anatomy.

Would she researched more on her own? No. Well, probably not. But her teachers knew better than to push her to really specialize in something.

Except for Hilton. He tried. He failed miserably. Trin almost feels bad for him. The graduate fiddles with the keys at the door.

School succeeded in giving her skills to live. Why can’t she see that? That was the goal, wasn’t it? The baseline goal anyways…

She finished with a scoff, waving the dust away. “Oh Trin, what are we gonna do with you…”

“We can start by you getting off my ass.”

She retorts with a bite before sighing. Trin opens her door, welcomed by the burning lemon candle. She inhales contently. “Now that’s home.”

“So you want to stay in the Batch and house right? How about blacksmithing? Tapestry? I can get you an agent!” The woman grits her teeth, patience wearing more than thin.

“Mom.” She can’t and won’t curse her mom out, but she will lay her frustration on, thick, for her to understand.

“How about this-“ Her voice was blunt yet restrained. “-I want to move in to my new house, I want to take a nice walk at my new neighborhood, I want to go to the supermarket to buy food before sundown, i want to just meet my neighbors by the end of the week.” She sets the box on the counter harder than she intended. The young woman pivots towards her mom, leaning on the counter. “Okay?”

She puts her own box down on the couch, sighing and shaking her head.

“You always did lack aspirations as a kid. Where’s your muse??? Your inspiration???”

“I just listed muses, my muse is to live a comfortable life.” Trin dryly responds.

She dismisses her, continuing on. “Well you can’t be comfortable not working towards anything.”

“But I am??? Living??? Is that, not enough???”

The graduate short circuits with that thought. What logic is she missing when they both get into it about this??? Can someone tell her? What is she missing???

“And I mean something independent to the essentials. Now then, you know-“

And this is where Trin truly lost her mother at the speech supermarket, dully yammering on and on about potential? Or doing big things? Something like that.

She shakes her head, never getting it. Is being herself not enough?

She did dabble in hobbies now and then, eventually doing something with it like a big project. She was competitive in games as a child and did enjoy athletics time from time.

But other then that, that’s it. No need to make it a life goal or anything. Just a in-the-moment thing to do with her hands and brain, then let go.

If anything that seems tiring and rigid. Forever the same thing over and over instead of experiencing something new when it comes her way.

Whatever. Trin blows a braid out of her face. At least she’s taking boxes in as she goes. Strong as an ox, gabby as a smeerkat.

Wiping her brow, she offers her handkerchief to the other, who dabs own with it.

“-this is all to say I’m still proud of you Trin. Really, I am. I love you for who you are but really, I wish you found a passion in… I don’t know, something! Anything really!”

“Well I’ll keep that in mind ma’h. You know me.”

Maybe it’s the lemon and honey keeping her calm, or maybe more annoyed than irritated. Last time she yelled back at her that just because she was dissatisfied with her own accomplishments in life that it shouldn’t bleed into hers. That was a hard one to deal with afterwards and she did drop it for a while. She sighs. At least she lives at her own place now and won’t be bugged about it.

Her mother brings her in for a tight hug. “I know, I know. I’m sorry if I’m buggin ya up a storm, Trin. You’re an adult and can do what you want, even if it doesn’t bring you goods and you’ll always have us to rely on.”

“Mom I can support myself with what I have.”

“Telling me off is an option too.”

Trin sighs. “Ma, what is this really about? You’ve been talkin nonstop since we got here. It isn’t completely about that is it?”

She sighs herself. “Maybe I worry you’ll stop visitin us at some point or you won’t come back to us to or somethin’.” She walks deeper into the home briefly, looking around. She rubs the wall. “You’re my only baby, my lil Trin.”

She stares back at Trin, coming back over. “You’re gettin older. Hell, it was only yesterday you were in my arms giving me mud pies.“ Her mother dabs her eyes with the handkerchief.

“Me and yer’ pa gettin older ‘n older. We gotta stick together when we can, right? I just want to help you.”

“Oh ma, you’re never too old.”

They hug, tight and sincere. She didn’t want to let go, never did Trin for a moment. Maybe she should of asked her sooner. Or did some self reflection herself. Oh well.

“Thanks for moving me in, love you, and I’ll visit soon.”

“Love you too dear.” Her mother kisses her cheek, allowing Trin to pull away.

“Now don’t go waiting for opportunities to fall into your lap. Go create some! Get invested in your new community!” Trin rolls eyes for the last time.

“Bye ma.”

- - -

Trin sits at the window in her new room on the second floor, finally at peace. It was beautiful site, colors cascading down to the sun, bring the cover of night slowly. This cup of lemonade is sure hitting the spot too. She takes another sip. A breeze curls around her braids, caressing with welcome and care. Chirps, far away chatter and tinkering, resonates in the background for her.

Trin raises a brow at a pack of birds, noticing it’s bigger than normal until noticing the luggage strapped to then. “About time…” She mumbles.

Messenger birds fly around, dropping flyers for everyone to witness and receive. Even if they don’t care for reading, they could toss it in the fire for kindle. A win/win that gets news delivered and cleaned off the street.

A flyer dances through the air. Trin reaches and snatches it out the air. Her eyes scan the paper, then she hums contently. It’s calling for Citrine Batch recruits in migration guarding. It is around that time of the year and would be good exercise. See? Ma didn’t know what she was talking about. Just wait and see.

[sookats]

★ — kiss me through the phone .ᐟ

⤷ how the boys act when they’re away from their lover

⌗ ft .∿ dream hyung line (mark, renjun, jeno, haechan) x reader

⌗ genre + warnings .∿ fluff + no warnings :)

⤹ ⊹ mark lee .ᐟ

✶ some days mark is half sleep and other days, mans is up smiling and giggling at whatever you say. however, the time difference kills his energy a lot so expect to hear light snores from his end as you’re talking to him.

✶ but the days he has enough energy to talk, he’s casually telling you how the day went and constantly throwing in how much he misses you. the calls usually consist of any other regular phone call. sometimes they can be spontaneous (mostly on mark’s side), there’s stories of crazy fans, a storytime about of one of the members, or how this certain event went

✶ if it’s a fashion event or photoshoot, he’ll sneak you in some photos before they release. even though he’s not supposed to do that….but how could mark resist showing this pose that made him look crafted perfectly by the heavens. also your live reaction on the cal always gets to him, seeing you squeal or gasp has him grinning

✶ before the call ends, he would tell you how amazing you are, and how he can’t wait to see you again. he can get poetic and explain how beautiful you are and how much you mean to him as he’s dozing off. the light snores coming through and his eyes flicker to stay awake but no longer respond after some time, signaling that he’s fully asleep

✶ if you’re falling asleep first, he’ll whisper “I love you” as you doze off

⤹ ⊹ huang renjun .ᐟ

✶ strangely, you guys always end up doing some type of activity together on the phone. quality time is what renjun desires dearly between the two of you and the calls always satisfy that. whether it be night/day skin care routine, watching a movie, anything to fulfill the call

✶ the calls aren’t always full of conversation. sometimes renjun just wants to see your pretty face or just simply fall asleep with you :)

✶ the conversations usually consist of many ‘I miss you’ and ‘this happened…’, renjun always have a story to tell and a new way of telling you how much he misses you. he’ll say how he misses doing his night routines with you, your movie dates, or even just cuddling on the couch together with your arms wrapped around him

✶ there are times where renjun can’t answer the phone and he will immediately alert you, unless he accidentally missed the call cause he was sleeping. though, renjun always makes up for it by small paragraphs of how much he miss you or send you a video of whatever he’s doing

✶ renjun would show you cute souvenirs that he got while he was away and somehow they’re always linked back to you cause they more than likely remind him of you a lot

⤹ ⊹ lee jeno .ᐟ

✶ throughout the day jeno would send you cute selfies of him while he’s away so the absence of him wouldn’t be too unbearing

✶ phone calls filled with cute giggles, admiration, and a lot of ‘I miss you’. I would say a tear or two was shed cause jeno misses your presence so much and he feels strange without you

✶ jeno would send you magazine issues of him on the cover before they are published and the public sees it. you’re exceptional so of course you get a sneak peek before everyone else would

✶ jeno is always attentive but this time it heightens on the phone. not only that but he’s an amazing listener, he’ll let you sit there and talk till the sun comes up. a quiet man who lets his favorite yapper talk :)

✶ as the phone call goes, he drifts asleep. he tries hard to stay awake but you can hear the small snores from his side and they’re so cute, you can’t help but to take some screenshots while he’s not looking <3

⤹ ⊹ lee haechan .ᐟ

✶ haechan make sure you never realize he’s gone or a far distance from you. even if it feels like he’s gone, it doesn’t feel like it

✶ he would spam your phone with cute selfies and text messages, he never wants you to feel lonely. A good morning selfie, good night selfie, pre-concert selfie, he’ll send them all

✶ haechan adores facetime calls so he makes sure to set a scheduled time to facetime you. he misses your pretty so much, it eats him alive actually :(. even if you don’t feel the prettiest, he’ll try to convince you to show your face cause again, he misses your pretty face soooooo much

✶ throughout the call, he keeps throwing compliments and teases you heavily. he misses seeing you become flustered by him, and after he’ll continue with the rest of the story that he was telling like hello ?? sir you have my heart beating out of my chest and just move on like nothing happened ??

✶ this man would terribly beg for selfies from you. he doesn’t care if its 2 am and you have baggy eyes from watching 3 movies in a row, he wants to see you :(

✶ you guys would have a lil concert on the phone as well !! its starts off with haechan humming, then you join along, and now you guys have sung a whole album together. singing with you is something haechan enjoys with you on call, he loves that you love music and can easily enjoy singing together without feeling pressure

౨ৎ i wanted to do all seven but i genuinely could not come up with anymore hcs I’m sorry 😭. but if you guys want more with the other 3, let me know :)

౨ৎ lemme know which is your fav <3

kisses to you all and God bless you 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝟦𝗎. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[guildtree]

Other Writers Appreciation

Alright, here we go again! Now that I've shared my own writing, time to pick on some other people in the GW2 community!

We've got my friend @accidentallyadorable, also known as casualloveroflesbians, also known as the person who wrote a truly terrifying amount of Kasjory fic! As in literally they are half of the tag; I've highlighted my favorites here. She's written a whole bunch of other good stuff too (including very spicy stuff I've heard is quite effective but am too asexual to judge myself) with a variety of different canon characters, so I would honestly recommend just going through his backlog and picking whatever you like - it will last you a while. We've got my other friends @dualumina and their ongoing Zommoros/Miyani fics that I always look forward to (and they will also answer your comments with giant infodumps, which is always fun.) And my other other friend @commanderkenegalle (Deathicus_Sling) who wrote the best Trahearne and best Trammander I've ever read here - it will hurt you and it should. @fireskarr(Skarrfics) wrote an excellent Mai-Trin-lives Wintersday fic here. @draw-you-coward (WingsOfTime) has a writing style I adore and if you're into Canach and Trammander you'll probably love all their stuff, but here are my favorites.

People I only know on Ao3: if you want charr/human romance Mimiga has a series for you, which also has an awesome plot and a cool dervish character! The new ongoing entry is wonderful and their oneshot with Joon and Kuunavang discussing Soo-Won's demise has incredible characterization. Teratornis's slice-of-life Canthan oneshot is funny and features great descriptions. Endothyme has a fantastic classic messed up Mai Trin here. sparxwrites's tumblr seems to have vanished, but they wrote a terrifying Countess Anise here. And if you love OC stuff, Nibswrites and antelopunny have such a wide variety of characters that you'll probably find something even if you skim these two.

And if you just want ABSOLUTE CRACK: here, here, and here.

Again, feel free to reblog and spread this with your favorite writers attached, GW2 or not, whether you got tagged or not! Fanfic writers do not get enough appreciation for all the wonderful work they do.

[milkyplier]

Run for the wip game? <33

I don’t have “run” but I do have “running,” so I’ll use that to compensate you 😭

“Please…don’t feel ashamed.” He says softly, running a hand through Legend’s hair. “You’re still sick and exhausted out of your mind, so this is going to feel like a dream, but when you’ve recovered, you’re going to regret the vulnerability. But I need you to try and push past that. This is not something to be ashamed of, and embarrassment is an occupational hazard. The only way through it is forward, and you’ll be better off after this. Plus, that shame will ultimately stew into some other breakdown, so you might as well get ahead of yourself and accept that we are still Hylian, too. And I speak from experience.”

He realizes Legend hasn’t hiccuped for a minute, and looks down at the boy cradles in his arms, completely limp. His breathing is soft and even: he’s fallen asleep. Warriors sighs, relieved and resigned.

“Well…I hope you at least heard some of that.” And he settles in for a long shift as Legend’s pillow.