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itsswritten · 16 hours

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Cauldron-born

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: When an unexplainable energy pulls the Inner Circle to barge into the Day court, they're all shocked at what they find. But it's Azriel who can't help wonder if his dreams have finally been answered.

“I hadn’t meant to hide this from you Rhysand,” Helion’s usual warm tone was replaced with something sterner, bolder— unwavering.

A breeze pulled on your skirt, the floaty material rippling under the wind. It was always warm in Day, but now, with the appearance of uninvited guests, there was a coldness in the air you hadn’t experienced before.

A bite that pulled at your skin raising goosebumps across your arms.

You guessed this reaction wasn’t a rare occurrence when facing the Night Courts Inner Circle.

Helion shifted his weight, his body stood in front of yours in a protective manner. A nervousness emitted from his energy, an emotion that actually seemed strange to even be associated with him.

Helion wasn’t the nervous type. Charming and flirtatious, bold and defiant— not nervous.

Helion pushed his shoulders back, his stance flexing against the shadowy group that had just arrived.

They had shaken him.

Perhaps you were naive to think these people wouldn’t, naive to believe you could live your life quietly. Slip through the cracks. Go unnoticed. No you were not destined for that, as much as your dear friend may have wanted that for you.

So if a quiet life was not meant to be, then you would at least claim it as yours.

With a light step you moved from behind Helion to his side, coming into full view of the group who had appeared unannounced in the courtyard. Your hand came to Helion’s gently, giving him a soft squeeze and light smile that stretched to your eyes.

How they had gotten through Day Courts shields didn’t come as a surprise really. Helion had divulged how powerful the High Lord of the Night Court was. That if he really wanted to take them all down, then Helion suspected in that unrelenting pit of power Rhys probably could.

But despite this power, Rhys had never ravaged control over the land. Helion was fond of Rhys and his family, they were allies. Perhaps he would even consider them friendly.

And yet Helion hadn’t told them about you.

Energies and rhythms rippling from their bodies, all with their own melody of colours unique to them floated toward you. Your eyes scanned over their features quickly, reading their expressions, the tight lines their faces made before one look pulled you to a hasty stop.

A hazel lock held you tightly as a males gaze ensnared you.

Golden rays broke through a midnight blue aura, trapping you in a moment that seemed to expand and retract all at once. He was the most beautiful male you’d ever laid eyes on, and it took every ounce of will power to pull your gaze from his.

There was a simmering at the pit of your stomach, something familiar and warm, and you swore you could hear singing—

“She is like us.” A girl from the back of the crowd spoke, beautiful and sweet. Elain, you assumed. Her aura, one that resembled sunlight radiating in golden flicks. If you hadn’t known who she was you’d had assumed she was a Day court resident from her glow alone.

Elain stepped forward, another girl stepping beside her as if they’d both been pulled by the same magnetic pulse to the front of the group.

This girl. This girl was Nesta. You were sure of it. That silver flickering aura licked at her skin, an energy so similar and yet so different to her sisters.

“Hm..no not exactly like us…” Elain seemed to mutter, more to herself than anyone else. Her eyes scanning you as she tried to get a read, try and decipher what had pulled her here in the first place.

Why you had pulled them here.

“Something other.” Nesta spoke.

You don’t think she’d actually intended for it to sound so venomous, but the words had snapped like poison. You noticed how for a split second there was a softeness in her energy. Whether she was regretful of her tone or not, you had flinched at the word.

Other.

Hm. Perhaps that was the best way to describe you.

Elain glanced at her sister, her face not changing as she digested Nesta’s words. There was a shuffling behind them, only slight and small. Would barely be noticeable if it wasn’t so hard for you not to notice.

Him.

His scarred fingers twitched at his sides, shadows swirling around them as they peered over those giant black membranes that were drawn in at his back. A tattoo creeped up the side of his neck, peeking through his shirt as you followed up to his jaw. Black leather’s covered his body, blue siphons shimmering under the setting sun. You tried so hard not to let your eyes wander back, but as though you had no control you gaze landed on his again.

Only to find he was already staring.

Azriel.

Helion had mentioned him to you before and you recalled how you had rolled the name a few times in your mouth. The name feeling so foreign and familiar all at once.

“Not cauldron-made, no not quite.” Elain had turned her attention back to you.

You had stepped forward now, stepped out from the shadow of Helion.

Stepped out to face what you had been avoiding.

“You are Cauldron-born.”

✵

“Would you like to join us for some tea?” Your response had been after Elain’s heavy statement.

Your words coming out in a flurry to cut through the heaviness in the air. Despite being outside it felt stifling. Several eyes piercing into you. You could almost hear the way they were trying to decipher you— breakdown what Elain had said.

You hadn’t allowed them the time. Quickly offering them tea, as you glanced at the small set up you and Helion had come to the courtyard to enjoy.

It was only a matter of moments before more furniture was erected and began the awkward silence while the piping pot of tea began to simmer to a cool.

Your hands were scrunched up in your skirt, fists full of fabric on your lap being an obvious tell of unease to those who knew what to look for. A strained smile was forced to your lips, expression light and brows arched in apprehension as you watched the uninvited guests silently take sips of tea.

With a quick sideways glance you gave Helion a nervous smile, your lips wobbling as you took a sharp inhale. Helion responded with a gentle pat of your head, his large hand coming to ruffle your hair while a lazy smiled adorned his lips.

His energy finally shifting to one you recognised more, warm and teasing. He was relaxed again. Whatever shock the inner circle had originally caused, Helion now seemed...somewhat nonchalant.

That should have been reassuring, but the tension in your muscles didn't want to relax.

“This is y/n,” Helion finally spoke, addressing the people who had barged into his court.

At the revelation of a name, the inner circle cast their attention solely on you.

“These are my friends y/n, I’ve told you about them already. We had anticipated your arrival at some point,” he continued giving a knowing look to Rhys.

Your eyes scanned the expressions of the five people in front of you.

Rhys, Amren, Nesta, Elain and of course Azriel. Not the whole inner circle, no there were members missing. But Helion had done such a great job at explaining them to you, that it really wasn’t difficult to figure out who was who.

“It’s l-lovely to meet you all,” you managed out, voice falling softer than you had hoped. Your own eyes gently moving across them all before flitting to the shadowy presence that remained stood behind the Night Courts High Lord.

Azriel.

Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

You couldn’t seem to stop yourself from looking, among all the noise he sung the sweetest. His energy, amongst those swirling smoke coloured tendrils was the most beautiful display you had ever seen. Not the most powerful by any means, Rhysand and Helion’s outshone his aura in many ways but his was the most enticing— at least to you.

Composure wasn’t something Azriel usually lacked, but after hearing the softness of your voice fill the warm evening air he had to collect himself entirely.

From the moment he’d set his eyes on you, he couldn’t ignore the feeling in the depths of his chest. Maybe if you hadn’t been the cause of it, he’d have assumed there was something wrong with his heart.

Azriel noticed the way your fingers nervously picked at your skirt, fists tight with the material as you sat up straight beside Helion. As if your posture would bring a confidence you were clearly lacking.

He could sense it, your unease, nervousness. Picked up on it before even his shadows could whisper it to him.

Nervous, nervous, nervous.

He blinked them away. He already knew.

Pretty.

Another whispered. He already knew that too.

Pretty was putting it plainly though. You were breathtaking.

Azriel wanted to reassure you. Comfort the anxiety he could tell you were drowning in. It was such a strange sensation, to feel this connection so deeply with someone he’d never met before, that Azriel couldn’t help but question why.

Azriel allowed himself to consider that perhaps something he’d been dreaming of for so long was finally his.

That feeling, the ache in his chest you caused— was almost painfully lovely. He swore this was exactly how his brothers had described it to him.

Azriel found himself allowing the smallest curve spread to the edge of his lips, a gentle, secret smile. Just for you.

A smile that softened your own forced expression to something more relaxed and genuine.

For a moment it felt as though it was just you two. The noise and vibrations of everyone else seemed to fade. An embrace of cobalt and hazel filling you with a warmth that felt so familiar.

“But Elain is correct. Y/n is cauldron-born.” Helion’s voice broke the trance you both seemed to be in.

Your nervousness from before simmering hotter.

“It cannot be,” Amren declared, disbelief tinging her tone as her gaze pierced into you.

“You think I lie?” Helion challenged.

“How do you know for sure?” Rhys pressed back, an uncertainty in his tone.

“Because I know you all feel it too,” Helion’s voice was deep, a gleam in his eye as he turned to you proudly.

“She is the Mother’s daughter.”

A statement. Even more bold than Elain’s settled a silence across the courtyard. This time it wasn’t stifling, their energy shifting to something of awe, admiration and then devotion.

In one quick movement a figure dropped to their knees. Head pressing to the cool stone ground.

Amren had bowed before your feet.

And Amren bowed to no one.

a/n: Okay I know this a whole lot more of elusive-ness and I'm sorry, I just thought sharing this little bit more is better than nothing at all. I wanted to flesh this first out properly so here's the full part one! I've been so swamped with work and inspiration struck this evening so I quickly wrote this in my notes. I promise I will eventually finish it, even if it's just little updates here and there. I'm hoping maybe 2 more parts, so it'll be a nice little mini-series!

I also took it upon myself to try and tag everyone who commented and reblogged because you all seemed very invested so didn't want you to miss this installment even if it is tiny<3

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @alittlelostalittlefound-blog @milswrites @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

CB tags: @hannzoaks @je-suis-prest-rachel @awkardnerd @cleverzonkwombatsludge @faerieboismh @glitterypirateduck @paradisebabey @jesskidding3 @searchingforbucky @beardburnsupersoldiers @chubby-unicornz @toxicsociety17-blog g @sapphenaa @starsidesigh @kalistaangelsbane @bookishthoughtss @pit-and-the-pen

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #cauldron-born #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #reader x azriel #azriel acotar #azriel series

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yesimwriting · 3 months

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ELLE IM HERE FOR JEALOUS FELIX IDEA WE WERE DISCUSSINF …

olive i made felix extra unhinged here just for you <3

----

“So…” The word is as small as it is hollow. You squeeze your hands together, attention settling on the way your skin strains against the tendons. So implies that the person speaking has somewhere to go, something to say.

Felix stalls, halfway between his dorm’s entryway and his bed. A beat passes before he finally turns around. “So.” His feels a lot more definite.

The nail of your left thumb presses into the cuticle of your right. “I uh–” The world is too hazy for this. If you had known the night wouldn’t end in its usual way, with you and Felix giggly and content in that drowsy way, you would have turned down that last shot. “If you’re upset, we can talk about it.”

He continues forward, steps casual as he reaches the bed. Felix sits down with a soft sigh, the sound tired but not exactly irritated. “Upset?” He repeats gently, body shifting back to rest against a pillow. “Why would I be upset?”

The genuineness of the question throws you. Felix didn’t seem to need someone to explain why he would be upset when he practically pulled you out of the bar. Felix didn’t seem confused when he barely gave you a second to say goodbye to a girl you met through your roommate. He didn’t stop to think about why he might be upset when he left without saying anything to any of his friends.

All of this felt so worth mentioning when you were walking next to Felix on an empty sidewalk, eyes focused on making out cracks in the pavement to keep yourself from staring at him. “Because we got separated at the party, and–”

You blink. You’re sorry–you know you’re sorry that Felix’s feelings were bruised, and you know that you could have been a little more intentional in the way you treated him after you started drinking. Felix always takes you into consideration, it doesn’t matter who he’s with or what state he’s in. You know there are things you feel bad about, and you remember the moment that you realized that Felix wasn’t by your side, but the details, the bulk of the night, are all blurred beyond distinction.

Early on into the night, you recognized Dina, a girl from your roommate’s friend group. Then, she introduced you to Nick. He bought you and Dina drinks, and then dancing…the three of you, and then eventually just you and Nick. After that, all you have is brief snapshots, each murkier than the last. Asking for a glass of water at the bar, Nick progressively moving closer, a girl complimenting your outfit, more drinks, Nick and the warmth of his breath against your ear.

You take a step forward. “And I wasn’t the nicest.” You force your arms to relax. Felix veering towards unexplainable tranquility is strange, but it isn’t worse than his anger. At the very least, it’s disorientating enough to feel better than straight forward anger. “We went out together and I didn’t–you’re always so good to me.” You frown, guilt prodding at your chest. “You–you check in on me, and you get me water, and you sit with me…” The words cram in on themselves, wedging themselves in your throat. Great, you’re trying to apologize and now you’re going to start crying, “Even when everyone wants to sit with you.”

“Lovie,” he whispers the nickname so calmly it briefly throws you. For a beat, you’re too confused to be upset. Felix takes advantage of the lapse, lifting a hand to pat the available space next to him.

You take a tentative step forward, and then another, again and again until you’re within reach of his bed. Before you can try to sit, Felix extends an arm, hand moving to rest against your hip. The sudden contact makes you still. His thumb shifts, brushing against the sliver of exposed skin between your skirt and top.

Your general uncertainty is catching up with your whiplash from all the directions you’ve been pulled in tonight. He’s touching you so carefully. How can this be the same guy that grabbed your shoulder and barely thought to mutter a tense we’re going before walking away.

Without thinking, you lift your hand, pressing your palm against the back of his so that his hand has to lie flat against you. “I’m sorry.”

Felix tilts his head back slightly, eyes finding yours. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, but he’s far from shy about it, taking in every detail of your expression openly. “I know.” It’s not exactly the proclamation of understanding and forgiveness you wanted, but it’s not a bad start. You take a partial step to the side, ready to sit down. Felix squeezes your hip, forcing you to still. “Sit with me?”

The phrasing is familiar enough for you to understand exactly what he’s asking. You nod once. Taking that as all the conformation he needs, Felix pulls back to give you the space needed to sit on his lap.

As soon as you’re settled, Felix’s hand finds your knee. There’s an affection in the way that his nails drag against your skin that has you easing. You’re still not completely sure on where you stand. Felix’s mood shifted so quickly, and you’ve yet to talk about what happened tonight, but this, his care and affection, is something you can trust.

“I didn’t…” His voice is quiet, soft. That doesn’t mean they don’t feel startling. You lean into him, turning your head to watch him openly. “I didn’t like feeling away from you.”

“I know,” the admission is quick, as if accepting the guilt fast enough will warp time and space and erase his hurt from existence. You place a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what happened–I–I was really drunk and then I looked over and you–you weren’t there, and I couldn’t remember how long it had been since you were.” The explanation is awkward and wordy, but it’s the only way you can think to articulate anything, a testament to the alcohol still in your system. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt your feelings on purpose, right?”

Felix pulls your hand off his shoulder. You frown until you feel his fingers find their place between yours. “Yeah,” he says, “I do know that.”

That’s something. You squeeze his hand, glad for the assurance of the contact. Your thumb brushes against his knuckles. Felix’s hand is now firmly settled against the space right above your knee. You’re on his lap. You’re not far from him. All of it should feel okay, should feel like enough.

Slowly, you lift your other hand, setting your forearm against his shoulder as your fingers find his scalp. The softness of Felix’s hair is always a pleasant surprise. There’s a silkiness to the strands that feels enhanced. It feels like it should be a result of expensive product, but Felix is so naturally lovely you wouldn’t be surprised if it was genetic.

He angles his head a fraction of an inch upwards to make it easier to look at you. He’s watching you with slightly parted lips. The little distance that’s left becomes a weight you’re incapable of supporting with no warning. You lean forward without thinking, lips meeting his.

Felix reacts immediately, hand inching up your thigh. His teeth graze against your bottom lip with more pressure than you’re used to. With no warning, he shifts, lips brushing against the corner of your mouth. Felix continues at a pace that’s dizzying, a series of fluttery kisses against your cheek, your jaw, the start of your neck.

“Lex…” The shakiness of your voice makes the heat crawling up your chest burn a little warmer.

He briefly stills, forehead resting against your neck. “Lovie?” The only response you can manage is a distracted hum. Felix releases your hand in order to rest his palm near your shoulder. His thumb smooths circles against the base of your neck. “Have you ever had a hickey?”

The question is so absentminded and breathless you’re almost not sure if you’re meant to respond. Not that you’d know how to answer the question regardless. It’s not like you never went out before meeting Felix. You’ve had experiences, have kissed other guys, but you’re usually the type to push them off before drunken affection goes too far.

Even though you’re alone with Felix, and you’re completely aware that he’d never actually judge you for the discrepancies between your levels of experience, it’s not an easy thing to admit. Especially when you think of all the times you’ve seen the start of maroon tinted marks peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirts.

“Can give you one, if you want.” The offer is whispered so innocently, for a moment you think you must have misheard him. He presses another kiss against your skin. “So y’can see what it’s like.”

When you don’t react fast enough, Felix places a chaste kiss against your collarbone. You force yourself to hold onto reality. “Lex,” you try again, voice doing its best to remain even. There should be a definite answer. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him tonight, and you know what the objectively correct answer is. This might be extremely casual to Felix, but you’re not as used to this kind of thing, and you’d never forgive yourself if you let something ruin your friendship. You’re trying to form the words, but you can’t get the rejection out.

“If you want,” Felix starts again, leaving another kiss against your skin, “You can give me one after.” Another kiss. “That seems fair, yeah?”

The offer catches your attention more than it should. You’ve seen marks littered all over his skin…and you’ve thought about them more than you would ever admit. Some concentrated, small, dark patches left there by teeth. Others more like a blend of ink blots, crawling up his skin, the edges a red that could just as easily be lipstick. Other people leaving evidence of their existence, of their closeness to Felix–your Felix.

Would it be such a bad thing to be that person just this once?

You nod. “Yeah.” You’re still nodding when you feel his teeth graze against his skin. Your eyes shut on instinct. “Okay. That sounds–” You’re forced to cut yourself off with a sigh. “That sounds fair.”

Felix grins against your skin. He’s more about it now, open mouthed kisses growing more urgent by the second. With each scrape of teeth against the sensitive spot at the base of your neck, there’s a soothing drag of his tongue against the irritated skin. The more time he spends on you, the harder it is to focus on anything that isn’t Felix.

With a final trail of kisses down to your collarbone, Felix straightens. The loss of contact makes you pout. The reaction makes Felix grin as his fingers move to unbutton the top of his shirt. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss against your lips.

He releases his shirt, leaning back to give you more access. You lean forward before you can think, mouth brushing against the edge of his jaw. Felix’s hand finds the back of your head, holding you to him. You work your way down to the start of his neck, embracing everything that is him. His warmth; the smell of cologne, cigarettes, sweat, and something else that’s distinctly Felix; and the taste of skin.

Your teeth press into his neck testingly. Felix sighs, the sound heavy and needy. His hold on you tightens, encouraging you to use your teeth more steadily. You give in, taking care to smooth your tongue against his skin after. You start the process over, repeating your ministrations over again and again until it’s hard to breathe right.

You take your time pulling away, lips dragging against his skin before you finally rest your forehead against his shoulder. Felix’s hand drifts away from the back of your head, settling on your shoulder warmly. “That’s my girl.” The praise makes you grin. “You did so good, I’m almost jealous.”

His good humor seems to constrict around that last part. You don’t fully get it, but you’re too content to question it. You lift your head enough to look him in the eye. “You know I only have eyes for you, darling.”

It’s an attempt at returning the joke, but the way his eyebrows pinch together make it feel like something else. That lingering angst seems to pass him by, because he leans forward, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Me, too, sweetheart.”

You smile, letting your temple fall against his arm, completely content.

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny @lilyrachelcassidy @khxna @imbabycowboy

#saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #bestfriend!felix x reader #bestfriend!felix

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pokemoncaretips · 6 months

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PSA from the Alolan rangers

This year, due to unusual cosmic activity, worm holes are going to be frequent, and this corresponds to a predicted rise in ultra beast sightings. The rangers have released information on how to keep yourself safe during the next 8 months until the wormholes die down:

Travel in groups and keep alert. We recommend keeping your pokemon out of their balls if feasible.

Familiarize yourself with the cries of ultrabeasts. [A link to a government website is attached with a soundbank of recorded ultrabeast noises]

If you are deaf or HOH, all service pokemon trained in Alola recently are trained to recognize these sounds, but if you have an older service pokemon or are from out of the region, the Deaf Society of Alola will be happy to loan you a trained pokemon for the duration.

Download the ranger alert app for your rotom dex or rotom phone in case of an encounter or sighting. Remember, it is a $5000 fine for making a false report.

Avoid unnecessary travel during this event. If you are someone who works with wormholes or has travelled through or been very close to one, we recommend leaving the region for the duration if you can or increasing security if this is not an option, due to the likelihood of ultrabeasts approaching you.

Ultrabeasts are frequently startled and confused by their sudden arrival here, and are much more likely to be aggressive or reactive. Do not engage ANY ultrabeast. Avoid eye contact and remain still.

Avoid picking up litter with your bare hands, particularly paper litter that seems folded.

Keep an eye on the skies.

If you find dead wild pokemon that have been drained of fluids, vacate the area immediately.

If you feel dizzy, confused or sleepy, leave the area. Pheremosa may be present. Wear a good quality n-95 mask to provide decent protection.

Avoid power plants if you aren't an employee there. If you are an employee, pay close attention to safety briefings and wear all provided PPE. If your employer is not providing PPE, anonymous reports can be made to the authorities here [A link is provided]

Avoid large forested areas and remain alert for a long, low rumbling noise. Stay away from unexplained wild fires.

Obey all evacuation alerts sent out, and keep a survival kit packed with clean clothes, important documents other necessities. A comprehensive list of essential items can be found at the Alolan governments website.

Avoid coming unto contact with naganadel toxin. This toxin is purple and slightly bioluminescent, with a sharp, bitter smell. It's powerfully adhesive and can quickly cause breathing difficulties. If accidental contact occurs, vinegar has been shown to begin breaking it down. Apply white vinegar to the area and contact emergency services.

Make note of stone walls in your area, and report if new ones appear with no signs of construction workers.

Stay safe and don't be a hero.

#pokemon irl #pokemon #ultrabeasts

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the-s1lly-corner · 8 months

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If you could indulge me, can I ask for something with The Amazing Digital Circus gang, with an s/o who is seen as an anchor for the others? They are strong willed, happy go lucky, supportive, a mediator and ect. Well, could they stumble upon their s/o just having an episode, just crying in frustration and like punching a wall to calm down and go back to acting like nothing happened?

I have a thing with strong willed characters hiding their weakness for the benefit of others.

TADC cast x emotional anchor!reader !

oh ho ho you silly lil fella, you have literally just described my TADC oc down to a T, i am going to have so much fun writing this because im literally just. going to use my oc as a place holder for the reader, just without describing any lore bits unique to them and their design ngl i think i went insane with this one, tally hall music is doing something to me

CAINE:

if you thought you were good at hiding your human despair just know that caine already knows. the only reason i feel he wouldnt initially come to you in your lesser moments of weakness is that he can acknowledge that youre trying to hide this part of you. does he go comfort you, and risk making you try harder to surpress your feelings; risking you to just blow up one day and have your mental state just totally collapse in one go? would you feel put off at the knowledge that in this world you never really have full privacy? that definitely wouldnt make you feel any better. but when it gets to the point where you're screaming and crying in your room and punching the walls he would step in. drags you away from the walls, and if he has to this man will restrain you if it means making sure you stop swinging. hes seen the downfall of many people within the circus, but seeing it from someone he so deeply cares for hits a different way. he may be an AI, but he can still simulate feeling. its a harrowing sensation as he lets you cling onto him. i think he makes an effort to make in house adventures less overwhelming and intense, too scared to push you over the edge but also too scared to leave you with nothing to do to distract you. i think he would stay with you for the night, too

POMNI:

as selfish as it sounds, pomni cant help but feel.. something in her chest. seeing you, the groups beacon of light falter fills her with some kind of fear and despair that she cant put into words. it reminds her that no one is above helplessness, and that at the end of the day youre just as capable of abstracting as everyone else. i think, when she finally sees your fake demeanor finally slip when you thought you were totally alone, she feels bad. i mean shes your partner, and she didnt pick up on any hints that may have indicated your true state of health. i dont think she would try to force you to speak, as much as i want to say that she would try to push for you to talk about how you feel i think her attempts to reach out to you would fall on deaf ears. i think she would put her hand on your shoulder, making you jump back to the present moment. its an awkward gesture, with the jester herself being a little lost with these new feelings... i think you two would just sit in silence

JAX:

similar to pomni, he feels this intense and unexplainable pang at the sight of the most hopeful and brightest person in the circus crumble. ive already said it but ill say it again, its like being splashed with cold water, with how hard that sinking cold feeling hits him. makes half hearted attempts to cheer you up. its not that he doesnt care, its that hes stuck in the shock of seeing the happiest person he knows flip into... this.. for a split second he thought you were abstracting, that pit his stomach becoming colder for a second before he realizes whats going on. ive said this before as well, but jax is not the best comforter, in fact i think he might be one of the worst out of the main cast. but i think so far for the characters ive written for this post, he makes an effort to try to pull you up out of your hole. at least he lets you cry your feelings out, and he wont make you feel bad for doing so

RAGATHA:

stands there in shock like pomni, before immediately rushing to your side and tugging you away from a coat stand you were kicking and beating. hands on your shoulders she tries to snap you back to the present moment, trying to tell you that shes here. any feelings of the helplessness that she shares with the previous two characters is shoved down. this isnt about her, its about you. runs her fingers through your hair, if your digital body has any, and just. rocks you. when you finally calm down enough to be able to form clear words, she reassures you once more that shes here for you. the two of you stay in that position, holding onto one another for the entire night. i think it should be said, but for most of these theyre going to try to keep a closer eye on you and make it a point to ask you how youre feeling. ragatha especially.

KINGER:

it reminds him of queenie. the sight brings back so so so many terrible memories. for a second he doesnt even register that hes standing in the present, standing in your doorway. stuck and frozen for a solid minute before you finally notice him, and you hold each others gaze. finally, you crumble. what was the point of hiding your mounting anguish now that it was discovered by the one you care for most? at the sight of your crumpled form i think kinger would snap back, and rush to your side. he's pause, afraid that you would abstract like the queen, before forcing himself to push through that fear in the back of his mind. a moment where he is not fumbling with himself or shaking; be it because he wants to be there for you or perhaps he still holds some guilt aimed towards himself for not being able to save his old queen, he refuses to leave your side even if you tell him to leave. theres this caution in his actions, mixed with this sort of determination to make sure you're okay. like ragatha, he would make it a point to make sure you're okay long after this incident

ZOOBLE:

zooble would probably be the only one who doesnt make their presence known to you while you're in that state. not because they wont care about you, in fact they care about you a lot. but theyre so unsure of what to do, that they give to you what they would have wanted for themselves, if they were in your shoes. they want to grant you privacy, and to at least keep a shred of the now ruined façade you had been putting on for everyone. if it means keeping it will give you comfort, then they wont take that away from you. they wait outside your door, waiting for the height of your episode to pass before cracking the door open. they dont say anything about what they had just heard, but you seem to know that they know.. i mean they came in so soon after you had calmed yourself down enough.

"are you okay?" a dumb question, but what else was there for them to say? you so obviously werent okay, and you likely werent for a long time. they offer to leave, to give you some time to pick yourself back up, but they also make it clear that they wont go anywhere if you dont want to be alone. the night is tense and awkward, filled with conversation before they eventually broach the topic... i think you guys would develop some sort of secret code. i mean youve been hiding your true feelings for so long, and outwardly saying you need help would compromise that mask you put up for yourself. be it a certain sentence or arrangement of objects, you two come up with a indirect way of asking for security

GANGLE:

she feels so helpless, the most out of everyone. she tries to get your attention, but her words fall on deaf ears, if they even manage to pry themselves out of her mouth. far too weak to pull you away and keep you from hurting yourself, but too soft spoken to bark out a word to draw your attention to her. truly, she feels useless. she isnt able to capture your attention until you finally notice her. similar to kingers part, you fall. she takes an unsure step towards you, hands half raised in front of her as she debates if you want to be touched or not. she settles to sitting in front of you, just barely holding eye contact... she looks down when you tear your eyes away from her. finally finding her voice, i think she would ask if you want her to stay, or if you need anything. she tries to word it the best she can, but she lets you know that she doesnt think any less of you for your outburst. it happens to the best of us, really it does. if you want her too, she wraps herself around you and tries to soothe your shaking form

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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val-of-the-north · 6 days

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Tibia Mariners and Those Lost in Death

While I am at it, I should talk about a detail found in Messmer's Shadow Keep. On the way to the Specimen Storehouse, you'll be faced with a peculiar sight: boats lit on fire.

This seems to be a callback to Viking funerals, except the boats are placed in a row and burnt on land. It's certainly an odd practice, but it might only be done this way because Messmer's forces are far from an accessible shore or water that's deep enough to perform it normally.

However, something else caught my eye. The boats looked quite familiar so I went back to check and...

It was the EXACT model as the boats used by the Tibia Mariners! Perhaps it is obvious seeing as the Messmer boats are used in a funerary rite, but I think it's still quite a significant connection, especially since the old Mariners have gotten quite a bit of new lore in the DLC. In Charo's Hidden Grave we can find the skulls of boatmen as a crafting material, presumably that of previous Tibia Mariners.

This is outright confirmed after finding the lone Tibia Mariner in the area, who upon defeat drops the Tibia's Cookbook, which describes them as the oldest of grave keepers.

(Btw I love the detail of the piece of lace cloth and golden ornaments, they are the same found on the Mariners themselves. They even come with the same ghostly glow)

This is quite the revelation, as prior to Shadow of the Erdtree we had no way of knowing that these guys actually predated the spread of Deathroot and Godwyn's transformation into the Prince of Death. And how could we doubt that, since they even drop Deathroot themselves? But there was something that most people have neglected to note about the Mariners, me included.

In the base game, the Tibia Mariner found in the Wyndham Ruins drops a spell called Tibia's Summons. This inconspicuous sorcery of the servants of death actually holds a perplexing description which mentions a group known as "Those Lost in Death".

There was something seemingly redundant and unexplained about these guys. What does "Lost in Death" mean? Why aren't they simply called "Those Who Live in Death"? It wouldn't blame anyone for assuming that this description just contains an outdated term for the undead before they stuck with the one used in-game. However, through the Tibia's Cookbook, we find a NEW reference to this same concept.

Roughly the same title (Those Lost in Death = one lost in death), the same underlying sentiment, and we have verifiable proof that the Tibia Mariners are outright ancient... so what's the deal with this? Well, I have a theory.

The descriptions of these things hint at the fact that the dead have been wandering for a very long time, and that they are in need of leadership. Before the DLC, it was easy to assume that the undead were simply a result of Deathroot, and the game seemed to suggest the same thing by stating multiple times that it was the origin of Those Who Live in Death...

... but that's the thing! Prior to Deathroot connecting them to Godwyn, the undead amounted only to shambling corpses. They were not LIVING in Death, but simply LOST in it, which is how the Mariners were able to control them in ancient times through the use of sounds, both their horns and the Calls of Tibia. It's only through the guidance of a lord, in this case the Prince of Death, that they found an identity and new life.

It's likely the undead waned in the era of Marika because of her elaborate Erdtree burials and general control of life and death. Heck, the figure of Rosus, who guides us to the Catacombs, must have also played a big part in their disappearance. His axe has a similar power to the Tibia's Summons and it's called Rosus's Summons. Its description also mentions that the dead easily lose their way, meaning that Rosus was meant to lend the dead a guiding hand. "Those Lost in Death" would be lost no more.

Without people Lost in Death, the Mariners kind of lost their purpose and vanished for a long time... until the Shattering and the rise of Those Who Live in Death of course. It might mean that the only reason they hold onto Deathroot is because it attracts and connects the new undead.

I guess Godwyn was meant to be a sort of "lighthouse" for all undead. He would make sure they never lost themselves but also that they would be allowed to live instead of being forced back to rest like with Rosus and Marika. Him being a "lighthouse" also fits the marine theme that all this death business is going for quite neatly I think...

But to return to what started this... maybe those boats lit on fire are Messmer's way of making sure the soldiers of his army aren't lost to death after their passing. A way to give them a proper rest the way Marika would have wanted, even though he is limited in what he can do about it. The Catacombs are now corrupted with Deathroots and Godwyn's corpse bodies, and guarded by his fervent golden Death Knights.

(P.S. - I didn't know where to put this, but "Charo" is one letter off from Charon, the ferryman of the dead in Greek mythology. Seeing as the place is connected to the Tibia Mariners, who shepherded Those Lost in Death in an age long past, I find that this connection might not be mere coincidence...)

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #elden ring dlc #tibia mariner #those who live in death #this DLC threw the little guys a bone #*ba dum tss*#ok but seriously I didn't know what to make of “those lost in death” prior to it #I just resigned to thinking it had to be some beta version of the “those who live in death” name #but nope. it actually makes sense #somehow...#and I am pretty satisfied with the answer #love the marine vibes that death has in this game lol #I wish they explored it more but alas #I'll accept the tibia lore gladly lmao #val-post

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cordeliawhohung · 7 months

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Sun Bleached Flies - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they're worse. It's difficult to tell when you're still stuck in that basement.

warnings: PTSD, angst, anxiety/panic attack, blood, hurt/comfort

wc: 7k

Simon was always good with a gun.

Well, not always, but he learned quickly after he joined up. Countless hours were spent down at the range, cleaning, loading, aiming, shooting, working on his technique and stance; becoming a lethal and effective killer. Practice makes permanent, and he found himself using a handgun to shoot several yards at a target at an outdoor range, which felt wrong. The distance was much too far, and he couldn’t even tell if he was hitting his target effectively, let alone if his grouping was alright.

That wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong. His M1911 felt too light, even with a full magazine, which seemed like it held too few bullets. He swore he loaded nine rounds in, but could only squeeze the trigger three times before the slide was stuck open, telling him he was dry. So he’d reload, rack the slide, and try again just for the same events to occur.

Eventually, he got frustrated. Too damn far to see the target properly, and he certainly had faulty equipment, so he holstered his gun and glanced around the area, defeated. The range itself was proper, but something seemed off about it. It was his feet, constantly slipping on something, and it wasn’t until he looked down that he realized it was sand. Desert-like sand, but it seemed too moist. Was he at the beach?

“Did I not say I would find someone who would make you talk?”

Simon turned around so quickly he swore his neck would snap. It was Bukin. Always Bukin. He grinned like a hyena with rotting teeth and a decaying core, and his chuckle was just as sour. An unexplainable rage began to smother him at the very sight of that creature, and his fingers twitched as he reached for his gun once more.

“You don’t deserve her,” Bukin continued as Simon aimed the muzzle of his pistol at him. “She would’ve been better off with me.”

A single shot echoed in the air, but there was no ringing in his ear, or crack in the distance. His gun didn’t jump, and Bukin still stood as if a bullet had never been fired in the first place. In anger, Simon stomped towards the man, gun still pointed at him, and pulled the trigger another time. Once more, there was nothing but a single shot and no blood.

“Or maybe you should have never had her at all,” Bukin mused as he crossed his arms over his chest, unphased. “You had to have known it would happen, yes? Death follows you everywhere you go, Ghost. It was going to get her eventually.”

The stiff end of the muzzle pushed against Bukin’s sternum, and Simon held it there firmly as he pulled the trigger once again. He had gone through the actions so many times. He knew what it sounded like when the breath was torn out of someone after the impact of a shot. Where was the thud of Bukin’s body? Why was the light still in his eyes?

“Ghost?”

Simon turned around at the sound of your voice. There was a small waiver in your tone that made his stomach drop, and he could feel his heart scream and shatter at the sight of you. Hands covered in blood, trembling lips, tears pouring from your eyes as you clutched your chest. You stared at him as if begging for him, as if he was the only person in the world who could save you.

When he tried to take a step forward, he felt his feet starting to sink through the sand, like the earth was trying to swallow him whole. Legs straining, he tried to push through, climb across the land and claw his way to you. You continued to stand there, hand clutched to your chest, blood flowing impossibly fast through the wound. Had he caused that? Or had you always been like that? Broken? Bleeding? Why did you look at him like that? Like you were forgiving him?

Sand swallowed him up to his waist by that point, and there was so much blood soaking the ground he couldn’t tell how much of it was yours, pouring from your wound, or his, pouring from his nails; broken and ragged from clawing to get to you. The worst part was, there were no hands holding him back, no biting words degrading him. Nothing in the world was stopping Simon from saving you except for himself. There was more blood than earth by that point, and the roaring sound of the ocean waves drowned out your crying and begging.

Eventually the earth felt pity on Simon, and the sand swallowed him whole.

Simon hardly needed to set alarms those days. His body did all the work for him, consistently waking him up with a frenzied jolt. A thick layer of sweat permeated his sleepwear, and he could feel strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. A terrible, chest rattling drum pounded in his body, and he could feel the way his ribs heaved in order to steady his heart.

The first place he turned to look was to you. Fast asleep on your side of the bed, the only clue that you were even alive was the subtle movement of your shoulders with your soft breathing. He knew he should have been happy to see you sleeping so peacefully, but when his eyes settled on the bottle of Ambien on your nightstand, a sour taste soiled his tongue.

Turning his attention to one of the windows, Simon took notice of the dull spring sunrise peeking through the curtains as he sat up. It was soft and white, like there were too many clouds in the sky for the sun to shine properly. It was only a matter of time before your alarm woke you up for work, and though he usually liked to stay around until you left, something was telling him to run. Run, fight, scream, because then at least the pounding in his chest would make sense.

Instead, he turned back to face you and your sleeping form. So soft and quiet underneath the covers, hidden away from the world that was much too cruel towards you. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, and not even that stirred you out of your sleep. Still, it made him feel a little better as he slipped out underneath the blankets and began to dress himself for the day.

One day the bed would grow warmer. He’d wake up with you in his arms again, smiling up at him, and his nightmares would finally fade away. But he was too afraid to cut you on the broken pieces of himself, and he was tired of seeing your blood. Your happily-ever-after would come someday. Eventually. Just not that day. Not while he still failed to save you, even in his dreams.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Once again, the sound of Jace’s shoes were driving you up the wall. The man had grown partial to wearing a full suit at work, for some strange reason, which only proved to annoy you even further. Strutting around in his charcoal grey suit all important-like while he breathed down the necks of every poor girl that worked there. He wasn’t a creep or anything, just much too enthusiastic about his job, and with no concept of personal space it didn’t take much effort for the man to irritate you.

Luckily, you were working on fixing a jam in the cash dispenser, which meant you were mostly out of your manager's line of sight. It was a difficult jam, something that couldn’t be fixed by simply opening the side panel and yanking the paper cash out by hand. Grime built up on money too easy, and the tips of your fingers had turned grey just from handling what little cash you had managed to yank out of the dispenser. No wonder that shit got jammed; there was so much dirt and dust stuck in that machine. Did anyone even bother to do any cleaning while you were gone?

You nearly laughed out loud at that thought. While you were gone. Why did you make it sound like you were gone by choice? Would it have been easier if you had just gone willingly? Would it have saved you from the pain?

No. No, you were at work and you needed to focus. There was no room for you to slip away, to go back to that house, that beach, that orchard, any of it. Your hands stilled on the machine as you took a shaky breath. No room for emotions; just for cleaning.

You stepped away from the machine for a short moment, trying to change your focus to something else while you reached for a can of compressed air. It made quick work of the dust and buildup crammed into the sensors and circuits of the machine, and you watched as it swirled in the air around you. A tingling sensation settled deep in your nose, and you tried not to think about the adverse effects that inhaling literal human grime and greed would have on your health.

Jace’s shoes hit against the stone floor of the bank again. Their terrible click-clack sound was not at all similar to boots on wood, and yet you still found yourself looking up towards the ceiling. There was no second floor to the building, no rooms above your head. Nothing but bright lights and fancy fixtures greeted you, and you found yourself swallowing hard as you looked back down at the dispenser. It was an instinctual reaction, something you couldn’t stop yourself from doing, and yet your heart raced all the same.

Sniffling, you shook your head and continued messing with the machinery in front of you. After opening a few more panels and removing a few parts, you found where the worst part of the jam had occurred. Someone didn’t check the cash well enough for slight tears, and it had gotten caught on one of the belts and torn, leaving a large pile of money behind it waiting to be processed. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you reached into the machine to pull the disfigured money out, and you did your best to ignore it as you started to close everything back up.

Something cracked behind you, and you froze. It was nothing more than someone scooting back in their chair, and you knew it. It was a sound you had heard plenty of times at work. You knew what it was, and yet your body didn’t. Your body heard it as a thump above you. A chair toppling over after someone shoved it in anger. Then it was followed by footsteps. Boots on wood. Stalking towards you as the sound descended downstairs. He was right on top of you. Right behind that door. Waiting to tear you apart.

Then his hand was on your shoulder. Always touching you. Always grabbing you like he owned you, like you were nothing more than a pet to him. Maybe you had been. No, you were less than that; you had just been livestock. An animal he tried to use to keep himself alive, something to bargain with. And his hand was on your shoulder, ready to take you away to be slaughtered.

“Hey, are we getting anywhere with this j-?”

When you turned around, you led with your elbow, and it collided with something squishy, followed by a yelp. Your eyes landed on your manager, Jace, who stood in front of you, doubled over as he held his nose. Blood splattered on the ground, staining his fingers as it poured uncontrollably from his nose. You looked down at the mess and noticed he had gotten some on the tips of his shiny, annoying dress shoes.

“Bleeding fucking christ,” he said through gritted teeth.

All you could do was stand there in shock with your hands hiding away your mouth as you looked at the mess you caused. You wanted to be angry, you deserved to be angry. He fucking touched you when a simple question could have easily gotten your attention. But he was bleeding, all over the floor, and when he looked up at you with involuntary tears in his eyes, you found your stomach churning with guilt.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked. You tried to sound large, but your voice only shook as you lowered your hands away from your face.

“What?” Jace asked, peeved. His voice was congested due to the blood he was trying not to choke on. “I should be the one asking you that! You broke my fucking nose!”

“Do you know how to talk to people without touching them?” you retorted. But your voice gave away what strength you tried to fake. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop shaking.

“My apologies, didn’t realize it was a bloody crime,” Jace muttered, the sarcasm almost covering his anger.

Even after all that time, it was always the same. Greedy hands on your waist in a bar. Vile hands holding your wrist, threatening to shatter it. The hands of your idiot manager trying to get your attention. Each and every time you knew it was wrong, that they shouldn’t have been touching you like that, and each and every time you were the one to blame for it.

It was always the same. Nothing had changed.

Different voices, kinder voices, tried to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of your terror. That pulsing mass of muscle in your chest, or the hyperventilating of your lungs. Sometimes your chest ached so terribly you thought you would die, and that’s how you felt in that moment. You’d just keel over on the stone floor and drown in the blood you accidentally spilled over a fucking panic attack.

So you left. You hadn’t even fully realized you were leaving until you were outdoors where the bitter spring rain almost instantly soaked you to the bone, even through the thick fabric of your blazer. There was the vague sound of the bank door opening behind you, but you ignored it and kept walking and prayed that whoever was behind you would leave you to be devoured.

Your walk home felt like a blur; like you were just some puppet with her strings being pulled. There wasn’t a single action you had taken the last few days that actually felt like your own will. You had turned into a simple bystander for your own life. People said that spring rain washed away everything so that there was room for new growth. The only thing you felt in the rain was cold, and it certainly didn’t wash away the anger that tried to strangle you or the sobs that choked you.

When you arrived home, everything was quiet. Usually Simon was there to greet you, but you also usually spent more than two hours at work. Really, it was for the best that he wasn't there anyway. He had always managed to find you in such vulnerable states, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him seeing you like that. Soaked to the bone, uncontrollable tears falling from your eyes, having probably just lost your job after essentially assaulting your manager.

It was a coo that caught your attention. Brought you back to reality, if only for a moment. It came from Boo, of course, who stood near your feet. He looked slightly disgruntled at the small puddle of water that had gathered around your feet, like he wanted to rub against you but didn’t dare get his paws wet. You wished you had his ignorance.

You felt bad for doing so, but you left Boo by the entrance as you pushed deeper into the apartment, headed straight for the bedroom. Your blazer was peeled off of your body and you carelessly left it in the middle of the hallway before hiding yourself behind a closed door. It didn’t take Boo long to track you down and attempt to paw at you through the gap under the door but you just couldn’t. He was an ignorant cat, and still you wouldn’t put him through the horror of watching your breakdown.

A squelching sound followed every step you took as you walked to sit on your side of the bed. The utter anxiety and pain in your chest had diminished but you could feel it slowly being replaced by a terrifying numbness. In order to preserve itself, your body had placed itself into some sort of limbo, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

Sighing heavily, you wiped at the moisture on your face, unsure if it was from your tears or the rain. When your vision cleared, your eyes settled on the bottle of pills on your nightstand. A half empty glass of water sat next to it, almost enticingly. Fucking Ambien. You shouldn’t give in, and you knew that. You’d fuck up your sleep schedule even more than it already was. But whatever was happening, whatever it was that was going on inside of you, you didn’t want to be conscious for it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Smoking after any sort of physical training was certainly a terrible idea, and Simon was fully aware of this, yet he didn’t care enough to stop himself. So he stood outside, close enough to the building that the rain didn’t get him too wet, despite the fire laws that went against it, and puffed away. He hoped the rain would wash away any lingering scent of nicotine from his clothes.

He worked harder than he should have, and his body paid the price for it. Achy muscles plagued his arms, legs, and for some reason his core, even though he hadn’t focused on it all that much. Progress was slow, and he was still further away from his old self than he liked. A part of him wondered if he would ever see combat again. Did he even want to after everything that happened to you? Could he stomach leaving you again, not knowing if you’d be there when he came home?

The thought of leaving you made him sick.

It didn’t take him long to finish his cigarette, and he shoved his mask back over his face before venturing off into the storm. Noon would roll around soon, and he figured he’d need to eat a big meal after the hours he put in at the on base gym. After suffering through mid-day traffic for longer than what felt legal, Simon arrived home where the rain was just as unrelenting. Avoiding the moisture as much as humanly possible, he dove into the apartment.

A small puddle of water greeted him at the entrance, and he found his eyes narrowing at the sight. Was there a leak? Dark eyes glanced up at the ceiling, worried the roof wasn’t holding up, yet there didn’t seem to be any sign of cracks or a burst pipe. Sighing, he slipped into the kitchen where he removed his mask and coat and set it on the counter. His pack of cigarettes peeked out of his pocket, as if trying to tempt him to take another, but he ignored that thought in favor of leaving to grab a towel to clean up the mess instead.

Simon hardly took a step into the hallway before he froze. Something was wrong. A sopping wet mess of clothing sat in the center of the hallway, and a ring of water settled around it. It wouldn’t be good for the flooring, but that was the least of his concerns. The door to the bedroom was closed tight, and Boo laid on his side, nose peeking underneath the crack as best as he could. Simon ventured a few steps closer, catching the attention of the impatient feline, and he instantly hopped up and trotted up to the man, meowing.

“What’s up, mate?” he asked, leaning down to gently scratch the cat's ears. The question was playful, but it didn’t help the uneasiness that had an iron grip on his stomach.

Boo followed Simon to the door and was the first to dash in the moment it was opened. Your sleeping frame was the first thing he noticed, and if he didn’t know better he would have thought you hadn’t moved at all since he left in the morning. But you were on top of the covers rather than under them, and in your work clothes instead of pajamas. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes.

Concern didn’t even begin to describe the mess of feelings swirling in Simon’s head. You were supposed to be at work, not a soaking, unconscious mess in bed. Carefully, he approached the side of the bed where he tried to assess you as quietly as possible. No marks, your breathing looked and sounded okay, your eyes fluttered like you were in deep sleep; you looked fine. But you weren’t. He knew you weren’t, and he didn’t like that.

Maybe he should have left you alone, but he couldn’t stop the hand that reached for your shoulder. Your clothes were still moist, and his skin stuck to your dress shirt as he gently shook your shoulder. You were icey to the touch, and he tried not to flinch at the feeling.

“Sweetheart? Hey…”

His voice was so soothing it had to be a dream. No, not just his voice, but everything. It all felt so far away and muted, yet so close, as if something was clawing inside of you, trying to get out. Lungs expanded with a deep breath, your eyes fluttered open, and your vision was completely obscured by Simon. He knelt on the floor next to the bed where he leaned forward so that his hand could brush against your cheek. It was only then that you realized how cold you were. Damp clothes clung to your body as if trying to suffocate you, and your muscles attempted to turn into stone with how stiff they were. It was like waking up on wet grass.

And it all came back to you. The crunching sound of your elbow smashing a nose, the panic that footsteps stirred in your chest, how you couldn’t be touched without feeling Bukin instead. You stared at Simon with glossy eyes, and you tried to open your mouth to speak but stayed silent instead. His concern only grew at your silence, and you watched as the proof of it etched onto the features of his face. He looked at you like that so often you were certain his face would be stuck that way.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked softly. Everything he did was soft when it concerned you. Like he feared he would shatter you.

“I… don’t know.” Your response spewed out of your mouth before the thought was even formed. The Ambien you had taken shrouded your mind in murky water, and you weren’t sure if you should be grateful for it or not. Neverbefore had you ever felt so light and heavy at the same time.

With an odd burst of energy, you sat up and Simon’s hand fell from your face. It was as if no time had passed at all. You had just been stuck in some sort of limbo and thrown right back into reality the moment you had woken up, and fuck did it hurt. A heavy dryness overwhelmed your throat to the point you were certain your vocal cords would crack, and there was some evil creature running around wreaking havoc in your head.

“I’m gonna get some water,” you said as you scooted towards the edge of the bed. Each word that you spoke felt too big for your mouth, but you let them tumble out anyway.

An uncomfortable squish sounded as your still soaked shoes hit the floor, but you ignored it as you pushed yourself to your feet. Boo curiously paced in front of you, eyes trained on your face as if he too was attempting to read your mind, but you ignored him as you wandered out of the room.

You hadn’t realized Simon followed behind you like a lost dog until you reached the kitchen. Before you could even reach for a cup, he had already gotten one down for you and was at the sink filling it up. Rain continued to fall just as fiercely as it had been during your walk home, and you could feel the low grumble of thunder reverberate through the entire complex.

“Did you walk home?” Simon prompted as he held the cup for you to take. He was trying to test the waters. Trying to figure out why you were home, but not fully there with him. In a way, you reminded him of himself, half awake, walking around the house smothering toothpaste on his face in a traumatic driven daze.

“Yeah,” you answered bluntly. Sniffling, you raised the cup to your lips and took a small sip of water before continuing. “My manager was just, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I’m probably fired anyway.”

“Fired?” Simon repeated, the disbelief obvious in his voice despite how hard he tried to keep his tone neutral.

You really didn’t want to talk about it. Because you could say that you smashed Jace’s face with your elbow, and you could say that you didn’t like the sound of his shoes, or how he touched your shoulder. That was easy. Those were facts. What you didn’t want to explain was why. Why you responded with such violence, why the sound of his shoes ignited some deep fear you tried to smother, what you were reminded of when he touched you.

So you looked around the kitchen in an attempt to distract your brain enough to come up with a lie. You had always been so terrible at lying, and you knew Simon was aware of that fact, too. Eyes focusing around the room, you looked everywhere as long as it wasn’t at Simon. An old grocery list held up by a magnet on the fridge. The slightly cracked handle on the microwave. Simon’s jacket bunched up on the counter.

A boiling heat rumbled in your chest when your eyes landed on a small cartridge that slid halfway out of the pocket of his jacket. At first you thought your eyes attempted to play a trick on you. Something that the Ambien made you hallucinate. But the more you focused on it, the clearer it became; as did that anger that threatened to engulf you.

“Have you been smoking?” you asked, eyes refusing to tear away from his jacket.

Simon followed your gaze, and the muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed. You didn’t even give him time to answer before you set your cup of water on the counter next to you and snatched the cigarettes out of the jacket. Why did the sight of it make you so angry? No, you knew exactly why. You just kept playing dumb with yourself. Every time you thought about it, you were transported back in time to where the scent of it clung onto Eric’s clothes. How it burnt your nose when he got close enough you could smell it on his breath. It was the first thing you smelled when you woke up on the ground after Adakskin beat you. That terrible smell had haunted you for years, and you didn’t think you could stand it if it started following Simon around, too.

You marched over to the bin on the other side of the kitchen, and Simon called after you but you didn’t respond. Every muscle in your body had grown so taut that you had slightly crushed the cartridge before you tossed it with the rest of the rubbish. A restrained and frustrated sigh left Simon as he reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was something exceptionally irritating about not getting answers. Sure, he was used to people holding out on him during interrogations, but allies had more or less always been truthful with him. You had always been truthful with him. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t painful seeing you struggle and not knowing how to help.

“Sweetheart. Love, look at me,” Simon urged. It took everything in him to keep his voice mellow, to not get too frustrated. Like Gus had said, you didn’t have the same tools going into all that like he did. Eventually you did turn to look at him, eyes already growing wet. His gaze softened as he relaxed the muscles in his shoulders and face; it was the closest you had ever seen him to looking truly sad. “Talk to me.”

Every emotion that you had forced into dormancy began to erupt in that moment. All the anger you tried to swallow, the grief you tried to bury, the disgust you felt towards yourself; it all came up to the surface. The pounding headache in your skull didn’t help with the tightness you felt crushing your chest, and for a moment all you could do was muster a defeated shrug, hands bumping against your thighs.

“I don’t know how to,” you admitted in frustration. “I don’t know how to talk to anyone anymore. I want to. At least, I think I do. But, fuck, sometimes I think about what I want to say and I sound fucking insane.”

Pausing for a moment, you reached your hands up to rub at your face. It was difficult to tell if it was because of the Ambien or not, but everything felt fuzzy. More than it normally did those days. Your thoughts, your words, your movements, it all felt unreal. Even so, a flood had started. Everything had been building up inside of you for months, nearly crushing your organs with the pressure, and it felt like there was nothing you could do but watch it pour out of you.

“Like, I was fucking kidnapped. That sounds fucking crazy, like something you’d see on a true crime show, not- not something I’m supposed to experience,” you continued, pulling your hands away from your face. “And it’s weird because for a while I was just some sort of trophy for them. Something to taunt you with and it- it was fine when it was just that but fuck Simon he- that crazy bastard he-”

Words failed you, and you choked back a sob as you bit into one of your knuckles. Simon braved a step towards you as the tears started to stream down your cheeks. Somehow, talking about what happened was more painful than actually experiencing it.

“He didn’t even do anything serious so I feel like an idiot for even freaking out about it but I can’t- like- fuck, sometimes people touch me and it’s him. It doesn’t make sense but it’s just- it’s him and it terrifies me. Every footstep I hear sounds like it’s above me even when I’m in a single story building, the smell of cigarettes reminds me of waking up on the fucking floor.”

You choked on the snot building up in your nose and you paused for a second to sniffle and wipe away the uncontrollable swell of tears that fell from your eyes. Something in you urged you to stop talking, to just shut up before you said something you regretted, but you couldn’t. There was no dam in the world strong enough to hold back everything erupting inside of you.

“Sometimes I think about how he touched me, dressed me in his coat, the things he said to me and I feel disgusted. He ruined me. I can scrub at myself as long as I want and I still feel it. I can’t get clean. I know it doesn’t make sense but I don’t know how else to explain it,” you continued.

Simon only grew closer, slowly, as if he was trying to coax a wild animal into his grasp. Maybe that’s what you had become. Some feral beast that took too much effort to love. He was close enough for you to grab, and you wanted to so badly it ached. You wanted for him to reach out and swallow you whole because maybe then you’d finally be clean.

“And I want to tell you everything but I feel so ashamed to be alive right now,” you sobbed. “He ruined me. That sounds so fucking stupid but he- I wished he had been worse. I really, really do. They fed me and kept me alive and kept me clean like a goddamn pet when really the whole time I wished they would have killed me already because I felt like I was betraying you by being unharmed. But they didn’t. And I’m still alive, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be because I’m not- I don’t think I’m really here.”

There it was. Bubbling in the back of your throat. The confession that felt like it would kill you if you admitted it out loud. But there was no stopping it. All you had ever done was watch your life go by from the sidelines anyway.

“I can hear something that reminds me of being back there, and I know. I know why it scares me and what it reminds me of. I can reach out and talk to you because I know- I hope that you still love me after everything but I just can't because I’m not really here. I’m still in that fucking basement, Simon. And I want to be here with you, and I want to feel better but I’m stuck there.”

You hadn’t realized how close Simon had gotten to you until his hand brushed against your upper arm. That was the last straw. Whatever composure you attempted to hold together shattered, and a moment later you found your face buried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you so firmly it was like he attempted to hold you together. When your knees gave out underneath you, Simon fell with you. Gently, he lowered the both of you to the ground so that you sat in his lap while he leaned against the cupboards under the countertop.

Each sob rattled your body so violently you were sure you would break apart then and there, but Simon wouldn’t let you. His hand engulfed the back of your head where he kept you close to his chest, rocking you ever so gently. There was something bittersweet about the way he kissed the top of your head, how he buried his face as best as he could into the crook of your neck. He held you until your body was finished rocking your world with wails, and even then he still continued to hold you.

“There’s nothing in this world I care about more than you,” he spoke once the waves settled. “I wanted to tear the world apart when I realized you were gone, and I thank whatever sick creator we have that you’re alive. I’m not gonna judge you for doing what you had to in order to survive. It’s not gonna make me love you any less.”

His confession nearly had you sobbing all over again, but you bit into your lower lip and forced yourself to keep your composure. You weren’t sure if you even had many more tears left to shed, anyway.

“You should have never gone through that at all, and I’m sorry you did,” he continued. The hand on the back of your head adjusted slightly, gently moving your shoulder back. Taking his hint, you leaned back some and looked up at Simon. His thumb ghosted along your cheek, wiping away any remaining moisture. “We’re gonna get you through this, yeah?”

It felt impossible. Getting through it. Getting better. You wanted to deny it, claim that healing was meant for people who were still mostly whole. But you wanted to get better so badly it hurt. You swallowed and sniffled some as you nodded in agreement, and moments later he pulled you back into his chest once more.

That was the first time that you really felt like you were home. Crumbled on the kitchen floor in Simon’s arms. There was something lovingly tragic about it; about being destroyed and still having someone to love you. It was a promise. The kind that couldn’t be broken. So when he pressed yet another kiss to the top of your head and mumbled the words, “I love you more than anything,” you believed him.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been months since Simon had last seen you smile. Truly smile. Yet there he was, sitting on a log in the middle of the Forest of Dean watching you giggle as you dipped your hands into a small stream. The August heat was unrelenting, even through the canopy of foliage overhead, and he watched as you rubbed the fresh water up your arms. The two of you were roughly two hours into your hike, and it had been awhile since he had last seen you so energetic. Each waving flower, small critter, and neat rock had to be enjoyed, and you made sure to point out everything worth seeing.

Digging his canteen out of his bag, he took a deep sip of water as he watched you pick rocks out of the stream bed. You’d run your fingers over it, cleaning off any clinging dirt so that you could enjoy whatever colors were hidden underneath, and then place the item back in the water where you had found it. Even though your back was turned to him, he could still imagine the grin on your lips.

The last few months that you had been in therapy had been treating you well. There were some things that were still difficult, old wounds that would never quite heal right, but you laughed more often, and talked as if you had never known a moment of silence in your life. It felt nice. Better. Things would never be back to how they used to be, though sometimes he wished they would, but it was more than enough to hear you laugh again.

A gasp left you, and Simon watched as you slowly straightened into a standing position. Knowing that he was about to be beckoned over, he hid the canteen away in his pack once more before sliding off of the log he had been using as a bench.

“Simon, come look,” you said quietly, as if afraid to disturb something.

With careful feet, he snuck up by your side where he was quick to notice what had caught your attention. A small dragonfly had perched itself on the tip of your forefinger where its wings glinted like church windows in the obscured sunlight. It stayed remarkably still for a creature that chose an excited human to rest on. You whispered how beautiful it was, how the blue of its body mirrored that of the sky, or how the pattern on its wings could be put in a museum.

Once it had its fill of compliments, it fluttered off of your finger and back into the heart of the forest where it vanished from sight. You stood there for a moment with Simon by your side, the toes of your shoes just kissing the crystal clear stream water by your feet. Everything was fresh, warm, and real. Nature surrounded you on all sides, and it was the most free you had felt in a long time.

“I’m excited,” you suddenly blurted out, attention turning to Simon. “To move into our new place.”

He hummed in response as his hands found your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. Smiling, you leaned into him with the palm of your hands flat against his chest. He looked at you with such adoration, like even after all that time the two of you had been together he still couldn’t quite believe you were his.

“It’ll be a good workout. Lifting all those boxes,” he quipped with a slight smirk. “For me, anyways.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and swayed in his arms, yet your gaze found its way back to those lush, dark eyes of his. As if your bodies were magnetized, his lips found yours in a sweet, deep kiss, and the warmth of the sun couldn’t even compare to the warmth that ignited inside of you. And it felt nice, beyond nice, being able to kiss him without fearing you’d taint him. You could hold onto him, and lean your head against his chest when the kiss was done, and you were there. You were there in Simon's arms in the midst of a forest and nowhere else.

“It’ll be dark soon if we keep going at this rate,” you sighed contently as he gently swayed you back and forth.

“I’ve got a flashlight,” he said.

“‘Course you do.”

“Always prepared.”

Another playful eye roll followed that comment, and the two of you slowly separated from one another. After recuperating, you started down the trail where you once again continued pointing out every single little thing that caught your attention. Simon watched on with a small smile and offered cheeky comments when it fit just so he could hear you laugh more. It was freeing to be out there in the fresh air, away from the noise of the city. It was even more freeing to know that soon you would be in a place where everything felt different and clean. Soon, you and Simon would be able to start over again, and you couldn’t help but grin to yourself at that thought.

As far as you were concerned, each step you took along that trail was another step closer to getting out of that basement.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here @spookyscaryspoon

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darylsdeadboy · 2 months

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comfort. ₊˚ෆ˚ 🐇

male! reader x daryl dixon

plot: daryl gives you your much needed comfort. (sigh i feel weird saying comfort twice but i can't think of any other word right now.)

warnings: shitty, rushed writing but it's okay i'm just a boy, reader has daddy issues, non-sexual use of the word daddy. masterlist

You've been in bed all day so far, haven't got up to shower, haven't got up to eat, haven't even got up to use the restroom. You've been like this for a couple weeks so far, staying in your room, pushing everybody away. Everybody in the group has taken notice of this, especially Daryl, but he and the rest of them know better than to force you, so they mostly just let it be.

But Daryl couldn't go like this any longer, watching you slowly become worse and hit rock bottom. It pains him more than anything else in the world. He had to do something about it.

You hear the thumping of steps and soon the sound of your bedroom door creaking open, revealing Daryl in the doorway. He keeps his head down and awkwardly steps in, closing the door behind him. He looks at you. You're in bed, facing the wall, curled up in a fetal position with your knees to your chest. He presses his lips together into a thin line as he contemplates on what to say.

"Ya alrigh'? Haven't been outta bed all day," he speaks softly.

You glance at him, then back at the wall. The room reeks of silence for a good moment until you mumble something barely audible.

"Fine."

He crosses his arms over his chest and gets a little closer to you, looking down at your curled up form. "Ya ain't." He pauses for a second. "Ya've been doin' this a lot, not leavin' yer room. Somethin's wrong. Don't lie t'me."

You're not sure what to say, so you just hum in response, not seeming to interested in the conversation.

He lets his arms fall back to his sides and sighs. "Look, I ain't gonna force anythin' outta ya, but ya gotta talk t'someone eventually. Ya can't jus' keep goin' on like this."

You turn your head to look at him, your eyebrows furrowing. "Like what?" you question, your tone slightly aggressive.

"Like this." he snaps as he swings his arm towards your direction.

You look at your surroundings: used dishes, some with uneaten food on them, empty bottles, and dirty clothes covering your floor and nightstand. It's a complete wreck. You feel your stomach drop a little. You're sick, and you know you're sick, but staring at it, really taking in just what state you're in, what you're doing to yourself, it does something to you, something unexplainable that makes your bottom lip start to quiver, but you're quick to hide it.

"'S not healthy," his voice softens, along with his gaze. He saunters over to your bed, sitting on the edge of it, looking at you, concern displayed on his face. "'M worried about ya. Ya ain't even eaten yet today, have ya?"

You're eyes are locked on him, just staring. You don't respond.

He reaches up to rest his hand on your thigh. You feel the firmness of it against your skin through the blankets. The touch is calming.

"Somethin's goin' on wit' ya. Like I said, ya ain't gotta tell me, but 'm always here if ya need t'talk, y'know that right? I love ya 'n' I care about ya."

Hearing those words made you crumble. Your body tensed and a lump built in your throat, your eyes swelling up with tears, your bottom lip starting to visibly quiver.

Daryl instinctively pulled you close to him as he saw the tears.

"C'mere, sweetheart," he uttered, putting his hands under your armpits and lifting you into his lap gently. His big arms encaged your body, cradling you as if you were a baby, one arm under your knees and the other against your back, your face pressed against his chest as you cried.

You felt safe like this, in his arms. It was as if he was shielding you from all the bad in the world. It was the first time in your life you've ever been held like this, comforted like this, have someone show so much love towards you. You didn't know it was possible. "I got ya, shh, shh, 's alrigh'."

Words spill out of your mouth faster than you can think, shaky and barely coherent. "'M-.. 'm sorry, Daryl. 'M jus' so tired, 'm so t-tired.."

He holds you closer and wipes the tears from your red face with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Shh, I know, baby, I know. Ya ain't gotta apologize fer nothin'."

His words fulfilled your entire body, spinning inside your head like all of your worries, but this time it was something better, something you've been yearning to hear for a while, something that warms you. It just makes you sob harder, body practically shaking in his arms. You can't speak, or do anything for that matter, just let Daryl hold you, keep you in this cocoon of warmth. You never wanted this moment to end.

He was treating you in a way your father didn't even do. This man, this treasure of a man you somehow stumbled across in the dark world of the apocalypse, treated you better than your father did. How? Why? Why you? Why were you the one who was picked by the gods above to receive this gift? You didn't deserve him, you didn't deserve anything good in life in your head.

You wanted to tell him, tell him how much he meant to you. He deserves it, you knew that after he told you about his childhood. He deserved the love he never received, but you couldn't form words. You just held him as tight as possible, hoping he'd get the signal, what you're trying to tell him. I love you, I trust you, thank you for being here.

He could feel the tightness of your grip. You were holding onto him like he was gonna slip away if you even dared to let go. His hands tightened around you too. He could make out your message. You've told him about your bad past, about your father, how he's impacted your life harshly, just as he did with you. He knew you needed some type of parental figure in your life, with how young you were. You needed someone to guide you. Maybe, just maybe he could take on that role.

"Shh, breathe fer me. 'M here. Daddy's got ya. Daddy's got ya, sweet boy. Jus' breathe," he speaks, his tone gentle, as if he was talking to a fussy baby.

His words made your breath get caught in your throat, the world stopping around you. Daddy. Sweet boy. It was like you were a little boy again, being nurtured. You were a fussy baby, being held and soothed oh so tenderly once more. Your breathing suddenly slowed and the hurt in your throat eased as Daryl pressed another little kiss to your hair.

"There ya go. Jus' like tha'. Good boy," he praised, the gruffness of his voice vibrating against your ear, his forehead against yours.

He continued petting your hair and whispering sweet words into your ear. He comforted you in a way nobody else could. He was your father right now. You felt safe in his arms. He wouldn't let anything hurt you whatsoever.

It took some time, but you eventually calmed down, and Daryl was with you for the entire time, holding you the whole way through.

As he heard your sobbing turn into nothing but soft sniffles his grip loosened on your body, letting you take your face out of his chest to look up at him, your eyes glossy and your face tinted with a light shade of pink.

He flashed a grin, something that you didn’t get to see very often. You appreciated the sight, even if it was small.

“Better?” he questioned, stroking your hair, moving a couple strands out of your face.

You nodded, giving a hum of confirmation.

“Mhm,” you let your head loll to the side, back on Daryl’s chest.

“Anythin’ I can do fer ya? Ya hungry? Thirsty?” there was genuine concern in his voice. He wanted to put you at ease in anyway he could.

“Mm-mm,” a purr came from your throat. You were too tired, too weak to speak clearly. You felt all limp and fuzzy inside now that you’ve got the cry out that you’ve been needing to release for ages, “sleep.”

He let out an understanding grunt, standing up with you in his arms and resting you back down on your worn out mattress again, reaching for the blanket and covering you with it, making sure to tuck you in nicely.

You buzzed sleepily, cuddling up in the blanket and closing your eyes, feeling your exhaustion begin to overtake you. Daryl stared for a moment, admiring you. You were a sleeping beauty in his eyes, to say the least. You looked so peaceful. He leaned down hesitantly, letting his lips brush against your hair, kissing it then standing up to his full height again.

He turned, starting for the door. He grabbed the doorknob, turning it before he heard your voice again, making him stop and turn his head towards you, your eyes open again, glazed over with sleep.

“Stay, please.”

He grunted, then blinked, his hand falling from the door. He hesitated. Daryl was never much of a cuddler, he thought it was too sappy, but if his boy wanted something, he’d damn well give it to him, no matter what.

He strutted to the bed, his head bowed slightly. The bed creaked under his body weight. He reached down, shuffling his boots off of his feet, hitting the ground with a thud.

He placed his hands on the sheets of the bed and crawled to you, until he was right next to you. He lays down, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

You bury your face in his neck and let your hands roam around his body, feeling the cold leather of his vest beneath your hands, sending a shiver down your spine. A yawn escapes you and you close your eyes once more, now content and able to sleep.

He holds you tight as he watches you slowly drift off, stroking your back. Once he hears the soft snores coming from you, he lets himself rest too, nuzzling his face into your hair with a grunt. “Night, sunshine..”

this is short but it literally took me a month to write. ive just been so lazy lately thats mb 😿

ALSO!!

I HIT OVER 100 FOLLOWERS ?? OML THANK U GUYS SM !! I LOVE U !! 💗💗💗

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x male reader #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon x ftm reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #dixonsemoboy #daryl dixon smut #norman reedus #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine

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oneweirdbookaddict · 7 months

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Hello, Whyareyoudo! (I didn't know if you wanted the tag lol) Finally got this written out for you, hope it's alright! It was so interesting to research Tourette's as I wrote this. Thanks for the request!

1182 words.

No warnings! Let me know if that should change!

~~~~

“Shh!” Four hisses, expression pinching.

Those closer to Four frown at the smithy.

“Four? You… uh, ok?” Wind asks, glancing at his friend.

The smith blinks awkwardly, ears flushing. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry, just ignore me.”

“Were you shushing someone?” Wild asks curiously.

“No. Nope. Just… making noise. Sorry. I’ll shut up.” And they let it go. No more questions are asked, and Four doesn’t make any more unexplainable noises.

However, he does keep twitching oddly, wincing as if… he’s in pain. First, his arm twitches, moving halfway to his chest before the smith scowls and moves it back down. Then randomly ticks his head to the side.

He watches carefully until Four catches him and scowls. “What?”

“You have tourettes.” He states simply. Not an accusation, not a question. Just puts it out there.

Four pauses. “I have- I… What? No. I mean…” The smith trails off. Blinks.

Then settles on, “How the hell do you know that?”

“Because I have it, too.” He says easily. Shrugs when Four’s eyes go wide.

“Wait, ok, hold up. What’s tour- ett’s?” Wild frowns. “Can we help?”

“Tourettes.” Four says. “Its a neurological-”

“It affects the nervous system and makes it so you make movements and noises you don’t mean to.” He says before Four can launch into an overly complicated, full science report-sounding explanation.

“And you both have it?” Twi says, looking interested.

“Well, I do. And I think Four does, too.”

“Wait so like when you swear randomly you don’t even mean to?” Wind asks.

He considers this. “Sometimes. But now you’ll never know which ones I do purposefully so you’ll never be able to tell me off, Old Man.”

That gets some laughter into the group, easing the awkwardness that had developed.

Four, he notices, doesn’t even smile.

He seems deep in thought, biting his lip in that way he does when he’s thinking. Or maybe it’s another tic.

“I don’t think I do.” Four says finally, slowly. “It’s not always the same, it’s just random little… movements. Aren’t tics more… repetitive?”

“Sure, sometimes. Not always, though. There are other types… but I’m not gonna get too deep into that. Mine were like that, yeah, but I also know someone who’s also diagnosed and his are more like yours. It’s just rarer, I think.”

Four considers this, then nods slowly. “I’ll have to do some research, I think. It’d be nice to…”

The smith’s eyes snap to him. “You said were. Past tense. It went away?”

“It did for me. Well, not entirely. It just… got much less frequent as I got older. It doesn’t happen for everyone.”

Four nods, fingers twitching. Then shrugs somewhat awkwardly.

He shrugs, too, feeling bad for putting him on the spot. “We should keep going. I smell rain.”

So they continue down the path.

~~~~

They find a town before the rain comes, and an inn as well. With enough rooms open that they all get their own- a rare occurrence.

Since they’re inside with the rain, Wild and Wars just pass out rations for dinner and they all take to their rooms.

It’s been a rough few days, and they all go to bed rather early.

Or so he thought. He wakes up to the door next to his creaking open, soft footsteps fading as they move down the hall.

He waits a few minutes, then goes in search of the smithy with a sigh.

Out the inn, wandering aimlessly around town for a bit to give Four some alone time, then stumbles across the library in town.

Four, naturally, is buried in a stack of books, eyes slightly crossed as he fixates on the one under his nose.

“Smithy, it is three in the goddamn morning.” He grunts, and Four jumps and drops the book.

“Librarian said it was ok.” Four yawns, finding his page again.

“Wasn’t my point. You even gonna try to sleep tonight?”

“How can I?” Four mutters. It’s not sharp, not angry, but he still winces anyway.

“I’m sorry for… I don’t know. You know it doesn’t matter if you do, right? It’s not going to fix the tics or change… well, anything, really. There’s no way to treat-” Four closes the book and shoots him a look. “I don’t have Tourette's and we both know that. I would’ve had these tics since childhood and I haven’t, they’re not nearly repetitive enough to be considered tics, and-” Four sighs. “I know what causes it. Something that happened on my adventure. I appreciate you giving me an out, but I feel awful for lying.”

He takes a seat next to the smith. “You don’t have to lie. Just…”

“Lead them to believe the wrong thing,” Four says flatly.

“You did with Wolfie.” He counters, and Four winces.

“That’s different. It was his secret.”

“And this is yours. Listen, you don’t want to tell people about whatever this is. I get it. But they’re gonna ask- letting them believe this will stop the questions. Otherwise, they’ll just keep asking. Not with the intent of prying of course, but just out of curiosity. And that’ll make it worse. Maybe every once and a while you get a question about Tourette’s, but that’ll be it. If you keep deflecting questions they’ll keep asking.”

Four looks away, considering this. Then nods. “Thanks, Legend.”

He smiles, getting to his feet. “Anytime, Smithy. Now get some sleep- you look beat. Come back to the inn with me.” Four looks around, nodding. “I just… gotta put all these away first.”

Gives a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

He laughs, helping the smith put the books back on the shelves, then walking with him back to the inn.

“Goodnight, smithy.” He says as Four enters his room.

“Night, Leg.” Four yawns, giving a slight wave as he closes the door.

~~~~

Four raises his arms above his head, stretching as he walks up to the lake.

Walks up to Wild, who’s standing at the very very end of the dock, just his heels hanging on.

A strong gust of wind would put him in the lake.

“Whatcha looking at?” The smithy asks, and Wild shrugs.

“Just trying to see if there’s any fish in here.”

“So you can bomb them?” Four snickers, and Wild scowls playfully.

“It’s more efficient than sitting there with a worm on a string!” The champion insists, laughing. Four peers at the water, then points at a spot.

“I think I see some there.”

Wild crouches, squinting. “Where?” “Over- shit.”

Four’s arm twitches, knocking into Wild’s back.

The champion flails frantically, grabbing-

SPLOOSH.

The others on the land burst into laughter as Wild surfaces, staring in surprise and offense at Forur. “Smithy! I did nothing to you! Well, besides the peppers… and the tomatoes… ok, maybe I deserved that.” Wild sighs, laying back to float in the water.

“Sorry,” Four shrugs, but he can’t keep the grin off of his face. “Tourette’s.”

Wild sends a splash of water at the smith, causing Four to laugh and dart back to the safety of dry land.

~~~~

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu four #lu legend #four my beloved #linked universe four #four lu #four linked universe #legend linked universe #linked universe legend #legend lu #always taking requests!#If anyone wants to send one I'd love to write it!#requests #whyareyoudo #my writing

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lemonjestercoffee · 3 months

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so i said something about alicorns being funky in my last mlp redesign post yeah? well before i get into that-

the beautiful bride and the ugly ass groom

okay okay jokes aside here's Shining's real sheets and Cadance on her own

starting off with design choice notes

Shining Armor - his was like- really hard to figure out and i didn't really know what i was doing, but i did like the concept of him having lost a leg in some sorts of battle. one thing i did know what i was doing with tho was his armor, i never really liked the canon armor so i decided to take my own stab at it. decided to make it cover the more important areas better, added gambeson underneath, put a royal crest on it, and gave them a head weapon. yes the metal horns are on all species armor, it's there not only to protect real horns from oncoming attacks but also give all soldiers an emergency weapon if they get disarmed. the tassels would be colored differently depending on rank

Cadance - the only through i really had going into her design was i wanted her to have a cloud and heart motif, but i'm unsure if the way i handled it is the best. her cutiemark is meant to resemble a Mexican sacred heart because deity of love- like come on. i also wanna kinda change the color of the carnation in her hair to stand out more, but white carnations have a different meaning so it's fiiiinee

okay now what we really wanna hear about, what the fuck did i do to the alicorns?

i decided to tamper with their lore quite a bit, as i was inspired to by the Skyscraper Gods Au by Shirecorn. now mine is no were near as drastic as that au, obviously, but it did inspire me to come up with my own quirks for them.

i went more "alicorns are more like the elves of ponies but because they can only be made by some unexplained rare mystical intervention and live for fuck off long, normal ponies see them as demigods of sorts". i've even given them things like groups or locations that they act as patrons of and prioritize above other things, but that stuff gets a little rambley so imma not do that on this post

for the anatomy tho, i can talk. i'll be using Twilight as a visual example because she's the one i've drawn in all stages

so basically the concept here is pretty similar to the canon, but with some funky add-ons.

first up- when an alicorn ascends, not only do they gain the wings/horn combo and grow an inch, they also gain some other unique anatomy from the other species.

Unicorn- along with the horn, they also receive the ear tip tufts i gave unicorns. these actually have a purpose, they're sensitive to magic energy and allow unicorns to tell where magic is coming from. depending on the unicorn they vary in sensitivity but alicorns are by far the most sensitive Pegasus- along with the wings, the get some of the extra feathers pegasai have on their bodies, namely the ones on their ankles that are used for finer trajectory adjustments in flight. they also receive the sensitivity of their hooves that's used to pick up changes in cloud texture and sense their stability Earth Pony- earth ponies may seem like they don't add shit, but they actually give two very important things. the first thing is a strength boost, as they're stronger than the other two pony species by nature. the other thing is dense as fuck hooves. that sounds kinda lame but they have rock hard hooves that allow for them to dig into dense materials and have a kick with some real bite in it that the others just can't replicate and might tear their own hooves up trying. they also add the visible fluff in the ear canal. but that's just a dust filter and if isn't cleaned properly might actually be more of hindrance

it's worth noting- if you look at Cadance and Twilight side by side- that despite being given extra anatomical traits from the other species they will always look more like the species they were before ascension. this is mostly visible in the ears, tails, and hoof shapes -unicorns have long tails with hair only growing from the underside, basic ears, narrower hooves, and usually have long fetlocks as part of their culture. -pegasai have short tails that are completely covered with hair and have rudder feathers at the base, pinned back feathery ears with restricted movement, and really shallow hooves with no fur around them -earth ponies have medium tails with even hair growth around a third of the way down, basic ears, and slightly taller hooves with varying fetlock sizes.

second up- the only uniquely alicorn physical traits that they really have (aside from height) are their hair and beards. unlike normal pony beards that are made of the same hair as their manes, alicorn beards are made of coat fur and will grow a specific length each year that marks how old they are kinda like tree rings. due to this the alicorns don't try to cut them. the manes are kinda funky cause they start out at the roots as normal hair, but then become more "ethereal" after a few inches or so. they tend to start to become ethereal roughly 10 years after ascension

they do have one more weird trait but it's less noticeable and that's the thing with the patterns. when an alicorn is first ascended they gain an extra pattern on their legs, and that pattern gains a second layer around the time they start to get their ethereal manes. you can see it happening on Twilight's lineup.

there's also a bonus thing here that has nothing to do with alicorns as much as it does unicorns- but i like the idea of Unicorn tails (flesh/bone, not hair) getting longer with age. it's usually not too noticeable because they don't normally live long enough for it to be really noticeable compared to younger unicorns, but alicorns do- so former unicorns can end up with some long ass tails in their 1000's

that's all i really got now- if i added in magic and social stuff this would have been way longer. i'm done with my rambles

#my little pony #mlp fim #mlp redesign #mlp headcanons #princess cadance #shining armor #twilight sparkle #kai doodles

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atinyslittleworld · 1 month

Text

Shadows of Longing

demon!san x f!reader

Summary: In a forgotten house shrouded in darkness, demon Choi San encounters mortal Y/N, drawn together by an inexplicable connection. Despite the danger and their disparate worlds, their bond deepens, but what happens when Y/N chooses to leave?

Genre: angst, sci-fi, au

Warnings: none of that I know

In the heart of a dense, ancient forest stood an abandoned house, its once-grand facade now weathered and worn, shrouded in mystery and whispered tales of a malevolent presence that haunted its halls. For centuries, the locals had steered clear of the decaying structure, attributing strange occurrences and unexplained phenomena to the sinister entity rumored to reside within its walls.

Choi San, a demon of considerable power and cunning, had made the abandoned house his home long ago, drawn to the solitude and darkness that permeated its every corner. Though his true nature remained hidden from the prying eyes of mortals, San reveled in the fear and apprehension his presence instilled in those foolish enough to venture too close.

It was on a moonless night, shrouded in darkness and whispered secrets, that Y/N and her group of friends gathered around a crackling campfire on the outskirts of town. As the flames danced and flickered, casting eerie shadows upon the faces of the gathered group, conversation turned to the abandoned house that loomed ominously in the distance.

Legends of the demon that dwelled within its walls had long captivated the imagination of the townsfolk, and Y/N's friends, fueled by a potent mix of curiosity and bravado, dared her to venture inside. Y/N, never one to back down from a challenge, accepted with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, determined to prove her bravery to her skeptical companions.

Armed with nothing but a flashlight and a rapidly beating heart, Y/N approached the dilapidated house, her footsteps echoing through the overgrown path that led to its crumbling doorstep. With each creak of the floorboards and rustle of the wind, the sense of foreboding grew stronger, sending shivers down her spine.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Y/N stepped into the dimly lit interior, her senses on high alert as she cautiously explored the abandoned house. The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of decay, and she felt a chill run down her spine as she ventured further into the darkness.

Suddenly, a voice shattered the silence, sending a jolt of fear coursing through her veins.

"Who dares intrude upon my domain?" the voice boomed, its tone dripping with menace and malice.

Y/N froze, her heart pounding in her chest as she swung her flashlight around, searching for the source of the ominous voice. And then, she saw him – a figure cloaked in shadow, with piercing eyes that seemed to glow with an otherworldly light.

Choi San, the demon of the abandoned house, lounged in the corner, his gaze fixed upon Y/N with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. He had expected her to flee in terror at the sound of his voice, but to his surprise, she stood her ground, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination.

"Who are you?" Y/N asked, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to steady her nerves.

San regarded her with amusement and irritation, unused to mortals defying him in such a manner. "I am the master of this house, the guardian of its secrets," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And you, little human, are trespassing on my domain."

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to speak. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to intrude. My friends dared me to come here."

San's lips curled into a sardonic smile, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, a brave little mortal, aren't you? And what do you hope to find in this forsaken place?"

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to respond. She had expected to encounter a malevolent entity intent on driving her away, but there was something about San's demeanor that intrigued her, drawing her closer despite her fear.

"I... I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I guess I just wanted to see if the stories were true."

San chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. "And what do you think? Do you believe the tales of the demon who haunts these halls?"

Y/N met San's gaze, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "I don't know what to believe," she confessed. "But I can't shake the feeling that there's more to you than meets the eye."

San regarded her surprised, unused to mortals seeing past the facade of terror he projected. "You intrigue me, little human," he admitted, his tone softer now, tinged with a hint of something Y/N couldn't quite place. "Most mortals would have fled in terror at the sound of my voice. But you... you stand before me, unafraid."

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of San's words settling heavily upon her shoulders. She had expected to encounter a monster, but instead found herself face to face with a being whose complexities both frightened and fascinated her.

"Are you going to... hurt me?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

San's expression softened, a flicker of something akin to regret passing through his eyes. "No, little one," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I have no desire to cause you harm. But you must leave this place. It is not safe for mortals."

Y/N nodded, her heart heavy with disappointment. She had hoped to uncover the secrets of the abandoned house, but now she realized the folly of her quest. With a final glance at San, she turned to leave, the weight of his gaze following her as she stepped out into the moonlit night.

But as she made her way back to town, her thoughts were consumed by the enigmatic demon she had encountered in the abandoned house. Despite his terrifying exterior, there was something about San that called to her, stirring feelings she couldn't quite understand.

The following day, unable to shake the memory of her encounter with San, Y/N found herself drawn back to the abandoned house once more. Pushing open the creaking door, she stepped inside, her heart pounding in her chest as she called out to the demon who haunted its halls.

"San?" she called, her voice echoing through the empty rooms. "Are you here?"

To her surprise, San emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. "You came back," he said, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Y/N nodded, her resolve firm. "I couldn't stay away," she admitted. "There's something about you... something I can't explain."

San regarded her confused, unused to mortals seeking him out willingly. "Why do you keep coming back, little human?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of desperation.

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to put her feelings into words. "I don't know," she confessed. "But there's something about you... something that draws me to you."

San's expression softened, a flicker of something akin to hope passing through his eyes. "You shouldn't be here, Y/N," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It's not safe for you."

Y/N shook her head, her eyes locking with his. "I don't care," she said firmly. "I want to be here. With you."

And so, against all odds, Y/N and San forged an unlikely connection amidst the darkness of the abandoned house, their bond transcending the boundaries of their respective worlds. As they spent more time together, their friendship blossomed into something deeper, something neither of them could deny.

But as their feelings grew stronger, so too did the danger that lurked in the shadows. For San was not the only creature that dwelled in the darkness, and there were forces at play that threatened to tear them apart.

As they faced the challenges that lay ahead, Y/N and San found solace in each other's arms, their love a beacon of light in the darkest of nights. And though their journey would not be easy, they knew that as long as they had each other, they could face whatever came their way.

However, as time passed, San's desire to keep Y/N with him grew stronger, fueled by a possessiveness he could not control. He knew that mortals were not meant to dwell in the realm of demons, but he could not bear the thought of losing her.

One fateful night, as Y/N prepared to leave the abandoned house, San's desperation reached its breaking point. With a fierce intensity burning in his eyes, he pleaded with her to stay, his voice tinged with desperation and longing.

"Please, Y/N," he begged, his voice raw with emotion. "Don't leave me. Stay with me forever."

But Y/N, though deeply drawn to San, knew that she could not forsake her own world for the sake of their love. With tears in her eyes, she gently refused his plea, knowing that their paths were destined to diverge.

Heartbroken but resigned, San watched as Y/N disappeared into the night, her silhouette fading into the darkness beyond. And though he knew that their love could never be, he clung to the memory of her, cherishing the brief moments they had shared amidst the shadows.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, San found himself consumed by a longing he could not quell. Despite Y/N's absence, her presence lingered in the abandoned house like a ghost, haunting his every waking moment.

At first, he dismissed it as mere wishful thinking, a trick of his imagination born from the depths of his loneliness. But as time went on, the visions grew stronger, more vivid, until he could no longer distinguish reality from illusion.

He would hear her laughter echoing through the empty halls, see her face reflected in the shadows that danced upon the walls. And though he knew it was impossible, he could not shake the feeling that she was still there, just beyond his reach.

Driven by a desperate need to reclaim what he had lost, San searched every corner of the abandoned house, hoping against hope that he would find some trace of Y/N's presence. But no matter how hard he searched, she remained just out of reach, a phantom haunting the edges of his consciousness.

Fueled by frustration and despair, San's mind began to unravel, his sanity slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. He would spend hours locked away in the darkness, muttering Y/N's name like a prayer, his once-bright eyes now hollow and empty.

And then, one fateful night, as the moon hung low in the sky and the world slept soundly, San's descent into madness reached its climax. Convinced that Y/N was still within his grasp, he tore through the abandoned house with a feverish intensity, his shouts echoing through the empty halls.

But as dawn broke and the first light of morning crept through the windows, San's fevered frenzy came to an abrupt halt. For in the cold light of day, he realized the truth of his situation – Y/N was gone, lost to him forever, and he was alone once more.

With a heavy heart and a soul weighed down by regret, San retreated into the shadows, the echoes of his madness haunting the abandoned house like a whispered lament. And though he knew he would never see Y/N again, her memory would linger in his heart, a bittersweet reminder of a love that was never meant to be.

#choi san #san #san x reader #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez #choi san imagines

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