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five-rivers · 2 years ago

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Blizzard

Danny checked his Ghost Time Zone Adjuster Watch (Patent Pending!) and frowned at the numbers on the dial. It was, in theory, synced to the time on Earth– or at least the time zone Amity Park was in, but he’d noticed it got a little less reliable the further he went from the portal.

He was hoping it was going fast tonight, because if it wasn’t, well, tonight had just become this morning. He might have been used to late night and early morning fights, but that didn’t mean he had to like them.

He’d wanted to get to the Far Frozen and back before he had to get up in the morning, but at this pace, that didn’t seem likely. The Far Frozen was living up to its name, it seemed.

But despite its inconvenient location, the Far Frozen was also the only place Danny knew of that was both willing and able to treat halfas. And wasn’t Vlad. Vlad didn’t count, for obvious reasons.

Danny passed a set of melting stairs whose banister was slowly mutating into hissing snakes and the icy islands loomed into view. He sighed in relief. Finally.

He zoomed towards the main island, skirting snow-laden clouds and pallid, sinuous frostworms. Briefly, he touched down at the edge of the island, internally debating waiting for the yetis to notice him or going closer. He bounced in place. If he stayed still too long, he might doze off. He’d been having some trouble with that, lately. And he was short on time.

Mind made up, he took off again, but flew more slowly. The yetis should be able to notice him long before he reached their settlement at this rate.

He saw the clouds of ice kicked up by the pair of skimmers before he saw the skimmers themselves and slowed. The skimmers slowed, too, and they met in the middle.

“Hi, guys!” called Danny. “Do you mind if I take a lift with you?”

“Yes, Great One!” shouted the pilot over the engine of the skimmer. “What brings you here today?”

Danny landed on the deck of the skimmer. “Medical stuff,” he said, shrugging. “You can call me Danny, by the way. What’s your name?”

“Iceplow, Great One! It is an honor to carry you! Why, this is the first time I’ve had a passenger who wasn’t from the Far Frozen.”

“Yeah?” asked Danny, stifling a yawn and sitting cross-legged on the deck.

Iceplow nodded, and launched into a story about how he’d learned to drive. Danny, sadly, couldn’t pay much attention, because it sounded hilarious. The skimmer bounced and jolted underneath him, but… compared to his dad… sleepy…

They skidded to a stop and Danny forced himself awake.

“Here we are!” announced Iceplow. “Safe and sound, as promised, Great One!”

Danny nodded and smiled. “Thanks for the ride.”

Upon hopping off the skmmer, he was swarmed. He was maybe a bit of a celebrity here. Way more than he was in Amity Park, which was weird because he’d never intentionally set out to save the Far Frozen. It had just sort of happened, incidentally.

Usually, he’d love the attention, but tonight, with how tired he was… He started to flag immediately. But the crowd scattered away, suddenly respectful.

“What brings you here, Great One?” asked Frostbite, rescuing him. “Unless I miss my mark very much, this is an unusual time for you to visit.”

Danny nodded, a less tired part of him making a note to figure out how Frostbite knew it was a weird time. “I wanted to ask you a few, um, medical questions, if that’s okay?”

Frostbite sobered immediately. “Are you ill?” he asked, clearly troubled. “Have you been injured?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t know. I was kind of hoping you’d be able to tell me. I mean, I don’t know if this is something normal, or a ghost thing, or a halfa thing, or something else.”

“I see,” said Frostbite. “In that case, we should go to the infirmary and do a thorough assessment. If it is troubling you, after all, then at the very least it is a change to your normal status.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” There were places to sit down in there.

Frostbite lifted Danny to sit on his shoulders. Danny caught himself listing sideways, into Frostbite’s horns, which was really quite rude, twice.

The infirmary caves, carved deep into the ice and rock of the Far Frozen, were kept meticulously clean and brightly lit. It would be easy, down here, to forget that he wasn’t in a hospital back on Earth.

… At least in some places. In other places, the machines and equipment being used was definitely not intended for humans and the raw walls of the tunnels showed through.

Danny stared at the labeled diagram of a blob ghost on the far wall, his eyes too unfocused to make out the words on it. A sharp buzzing sound rang in his ears. The thought that he could steal a nap crossed his mind and was reluctantly discarded. Or, rather, it wasn’t so much discarded as… Well, it would be rude, wouldn’t it? To fall asleep like that?

Frostbite cleared his throat, a human habit he’d definitely picked up from Danny, jolting him out of his reverie. “Let’s start with the symptoms you are experiencing.”

“I’ve been tired all the time. But when I try to sleep, I just can’t. I’ve tried getting myself to wake up more, and I’ve tried coffee, and I’ve tried wearing myself out so I’ll sleep, but… Nothing seems to work.”

“Well, there are a few different things that could be. Let’s start with some simple tests…”

Frostbite started with things any doctor would do. He weighed and measured Danny, listened to his heart, took his blood pressure, tested his reflexes. He also repeated most of Danny’s tests in both forms, took ‘aural photographs,’ and checked the energy levels of his ectoplasm. Then came blood tests, x-rays, an MRI, an ‘ectoplasmic resonance scan,’ an ectosignature typing, and other, weirder tests.

“Hm,” said Frostbite, looking down at the test results. “Interesting.”

“Interesting bad, or interesting good?”

“Nothing bad, no. I believe I may be able to do something to help,” said Frostbite, finally, “but may I ask a favor of you in the meantime?”

“Sure,” said Danny.

“You see, I may have to consult with some of our experts, but they’re largely occupied with the children today.”

“Children?”

“You haven’t met them before, have you?” asked Frostbite. “You have spent most of your time in the warrior’s camp.”

“The–?” Any other time, Danny would be asking questions, but he knew that if he did now, the explanations would go in one ear and out the other. He shook his head. “You want me to watch them.”

Frostbite shrugged.

Well, it couldn’t be any worse than trying to babysit Youngblood. And it would make him feel better to actually do something useful, instead of just waiting for Frostbite to find something to fix him.

Frostbite led Danny down another series of tunnels, then outside and up over a series of hills. Danny started flagging right away, but Frostbite slowed to accommodate him.

They crested one more hill, and then Danny saw it. A wonderful, fantasy play structure that would fill any child under ten with avarice. A finely detailed medieval castle, with slides, swings, climbing walls, and anything else you could think of, down to what looked like an accurate trebuchet and functional portcullis, all made of glass-clear ice. Within the play structure were five small yetis.

Danny gasped and clutched at Frostbite’s arm. “Oh my gosh,” he said, “they’re precious.”

They were small. Well, smaller than the adult yetis. Even at this distance, Danny was pretty sure the smallest one was at least as tall as he was and probably had at least fifty pounds on him with how fluffy they were.

“How old are they?” he asked

“Hm, let’s see,” said Frostbite. “Icepack is the oldest… Snowflake is the youngest… so that would be… They’re between fifty and two hundred and fifty years old.”

“They’re what?”

“Between fifty and two hundred and fifty years old.”

“Frostbite,” said Danny, “they’re older than me. How could I watch them?”

Frostbite chuckled. “I did not actually say that, if you remember.” He gently pushed Danny forward. “All I said was that I needed to speak with the experts here. We do not have to go anywhere else to do that.” Once more, he urged Danny forward. “Please, Great One, go play.”

“I don’t…” He looked back at the ice castle. The children had definitely noticed him, and they were coming out. Their eyes were sparkling.

He couldn’t disappoint kids.

As Frostbite went to go join the other adult yetis, who were sitting on a bench a short distance away, he approached, trying not to look nervous. “Hi!” he said. “I’m Danny.”

“I’m Snowflake!” said the tiniest yeti in an adorably squeaky voice. “I’m a girl!”

“Everyone knows you’re a girl!”

“He doesn’t!”

“Yep,” said Danny, giving a shaky thumbs up, “I don’t know anything about any of you, so…”

“He’s Cryosphere. His parents had to give him a really fancy name to make up for–”

The tallest of the yeti children put their hand on Snowflake’s head. “I’m Snowpack,” they said. “These two are Featherice and Candleice.”

Snowflake beat Snowpack’s hand away. “Are you a boy or a girl?”

“Uh,” said Danny, who had been prepared for a different kind of interrogation altogether.

“‘Cause if you’re a boy, then we’re even, because Snowpack and Cryosphere are boys, and Featherice and Candleice are girls.”

“I guess I’m a boy, then,” said Danny.

He got the distinct impression he was being sized up. “Then you can be one of the princesses with me! We can have a girl princess and a boy princess, then, and it’ll be fair.”

“You can’t have a boy princess,” said Cryosphere. “He has to be a prince.”

“Princes are the ones who rescue princesses,” said Snowflake. “Princes get armor, and princesses get crowns. That’s how it works.”

“I know a princess,” said Danny, hoping to at least derail the brewing argument. “She rescued herself, and she ha-aa-aaaawhn.” Danny was unable to keep himself from yawning.

“You,” declared Snowflake, gravely and with great importance, “are sleepy.” She tapped his nose with one claw. This froze the air inside his nostrils and he sneezed.

“Ahhhh,” said Featherice, “your sneeze is so cute!”

“Sleepy!” declared Snowflake again.

“No,” he said, defensively. At least for human children, being sleepy would be seen as uncool. He wanted to be cool.

The little yetis stared at him judgmentally.

“I think it’s naptime, anyway,” said Icepack. “So, why don’t we do a blizzard, then take a nap?”

Snowflake gaped at him, betrayed. “I don’t need to take a nap.”

“It’s not very fair to tell someone else they need a nap, then not take one yourself, is it?” asked Icepack. “We can all take one together, okay?”

“Um,” said Danny, “a blizzard?”

“It’s a type of group work,” said Candleice, quietly. “You let your ice go together and shape it together. In a blizzard, the snow comes and tucks you in, then you take a nap.”

“O-oh,” said Danny, “I don’t know if I should do that, my ice powers, um…” He glanced over at Frostbite, who gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. The children were looking at him expectantly. Danny caved. “Okay, we can try it out.” He could always just… not put any power into what they were doing.

He was, upon agreement, promptly dragged into the castle’s courtyard.

“So,” said Icepack, “first, we get in a circle, and we all hold hands.”

The yetis lined up in order of height and Danny, the shortest, carefully took the clawed hands of Snowflake and Icepack.

"Now, we start walking in a circle…" Danny mimicked the yetis around him. "And we wave our arms up and down. Then we take cold in through our left arm, and out with our right. Pass it around."

Danny had never done anything like this before, but the momentum the yetis were building made it easy to let the cold wash through him, sending ice feathering up his arms and around his shoulders. The feeling plucked at his core, and, finally, he gave in to the feeling, adding a thread of his power.

"There we go. Good job, everyone."

A few meters above the circle, a storm swirled, building and building.

"Alright, now change directions."

Danny stumbled a step, but fell back into the loose rhythm easily. Snow began to fall from the clouds above, faster and faster, until even the constant movement of the circle didn’t stop them from having to wade through snow. Snow gathered heavily on Danny’s shoulders, in his hair, his eyelashes. The shifting white in front of him could have been Snowflake’s back, but it could just as easily be the snow. He could hardly see his own hands, and definitely couldn’t see his feet.

“And break!”

Everyone let go and threw themselves into the high bank of snow that had gathered outside of their circle. More ice energy burst out as the circle broke, the power they were channeling and building escaping into the air and making it just that much colder, the snowflakes just that much larger. There was some muffled giggling as the children flopped around and knocked snow onto one another. Danny was promptly buried.

“Naptime now!” called out Icepack. The other children quieted.

Danny sighed and flexed his hands, which were still bleeding cold energy. He wanted to get up, but it’d be better if he was a good role model, right?

Although… This was pretty comfortable. Nice and cold, the right temperature for his core, the snow underneath conforming to his body, the ever-increasing weight of the snow above, the dark and quiet, also increasing.

Frostbite and the other adults were watching, too. Maybe, just for a moment…

The blizzard cleared. Not too long later, the five little yetis burrowed out from under the snow.

“You were very mature, today, children,” said Frostbite, passing out little flavored ice treats. “Thank you for your help.”

“He’s so little!” said Snowflake. “He’s even smaller than me. Did he really fight Pariah Dark?”

“He did,” said Frostbite, “that’s why it’s so easy, sometimes, to forget that he is a child, just like all of you.”

“Not that any of you should go off fighting strange adults any time soon!” said Driftice, their main caretaker for the day, swooping in. “Humans age differently, and he had been a human for most of his existence.”

“Aha, yes, that is true.”

“Chief Frostbite,” said Snowflake, tugging on the end of his cape to get his attention back. “I have a question.”

“Go ahead, little one.”

“Doesn’t he know ghosts don’t take naps? He’s got to know that, if he beat up Pariah Dark.”

“Well, he was human.”

Snowflake frowned. “How do humans become ghosts?” she asked.

Driftice glared at him from over Snowflake’s head.

“Oh, dear, look at the time. You’re all late for your hunting lesson.”

“No, we’re not,” said Snowflake, even as the group was hurried along by Driftice and the other caretakers of the day.

Frostbite sighed and made an ice chair for himself. He waited, amusing himself by making small sculptures, not something he got much practice at, with his duties as chief.

Several hours later, the snow shifted and a rather disoriented-looking Phantom dug his way out of the snow. “Huh?” he said, looking around. “What?”

“You fell asleep,” explained Frostbite, putting aside his latest sculpture.

Phantom’s eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Perhaps not, but I meant for you to.”

“What?” asked Phantom, bewildered.

“To put it simply,” said Frostbite, “you were too stressed to sleep, Great One, and somewhat overheated for an ice core as well. I’m sorry for the deception with the children, but I wasn’t sure you would agree to rest, otherwise, and that’s the only cure for these things.”

“I,” said Phantom, frowning. “But–”

“Do you feel better?” prodded Frostbite.

“... Maybe,” said Phantom, quietly, guiltily.

Frostbite smiled gently. He handed Phantom one of the ice sculptures. It was a simple thing, a series of spheres within spheres.

“Everyone needs rest, Phantom. There’s no shame in taking it.”

“But what if…” Danny rubbed his thumb over the sculpture. “What if something happens? How long was I asleep?” He flailed a bit more and freed a hand from the snow. He glared at the small watch around his wrist.

“Then something happens, and you deal with it well-rested.”

Phantom, in a way that was far too adorable considering that he had no fur and hardly any fangs, pouted. “Frostbite, I was asleep for over eight hours. I’m going to totally miss school.”

“And do you feel better?” prompted Frostbite again.

“... Yes. But I really have to go, now, or else my parents will totally blow up at me.”

Frostbite was glad he knew that was a colloquialism. “You can always tell them you were kidnapped by a ghost. It’s even true.”

“You’re terrible,” said Phantom. “But… Thanks. I might take you up on that."

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2023 #dannymay 2023 day 3: blizzard #fluff #danny takes a nap

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rockingrobin69 · 1 year ago

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Held Dear

Draco kept taking the wrong turns: the place was a maze, and he was only half-looking, skidding past corners on his socks and trying to swallow the smile, to temper this riot in his chest. Went for a cup of tea, got lost, found himself—nowhere, over-warm and nearly skipping. His hand couldn’t stop running down his neck, under the hem of his jumper, tracing the marks Potter’s mouth left that he could still feel. The slight irritation from his stubble—luckily there was a mirror in the corridor, and Draco stopped in front of it on a gasp.

His hair was a mess (Potter’s hands ruffling through it, his reverent fingers ever-gentle, ever-sweet); his cheeks were flushed (Potter’s kisses), and his lips red and bitten (him or Potter, who’s to say). Not visible: his heart going thump-thump-thump, and this thing buzzing on his lips, coming from deep inside, something awful like affection or delight. Something—bright.

“Draco?” he heard from a distance. “Where did you go, silly creature?”

Flushed from head to toe: “I’m just down here.”

He could feel Potter’s laughter more than hear it, ticklish on his pinked skin—then, leaning on a doorframe and destructively handsome, his Potter in all his naked glory, hairy chest and thick thighs and dark bitemarks that made Draco hungry all over again. Insatiable, he was, whenever Potter was around: running through him, thick like warmed honey and just as sweet, desire raw and tight.

“There you are,” Potter said, fond eyebrows and half a smile. “Did you get lost?”

“Of course not,” prancing, heart dancing in his chest. “Don’t you look just lovely.”

Potter gave an appreciative hum, came a step closer. “You’re overdressed. It’s not cold, is it?”

It was, Draco thought, before Potter appeared. Now he couldn’t even remember what cold meant. An opposite, probably, of this, finally close enough to touch, his hand mindlessly caressing Potter’s sides, one thumb catching his chin.

“I’m cold,” Draco said anyway. “Warm me up.”

Potter was only too happy to oblige, clear from his smile (going wider still), from the look in his eyes (a devastating thing, sending shivers down Draco’s spine), from the noise he made, half a growl and half a plea. His arms wrapping around Draco, and his mouth tilting closer for a kiss. His taste (divine), his hair (so soft under Draco’s fingers), his, ah, body, pinned against Draco’s and writhing, moving, endlessly and frantically.

“You’re perfect,” Draco thought he said, out loud maybe, and tried to swallow the words back from his lips. “Potter—”

Sucking little bites onto his neck, hands roaming, searching under his jumper, till his clever fingers found a nipple. “Ah,” as Draco's whole mind melted, “Potter, ah,” as he tweaked it once, twice. Grinning against Draco’s face, the most ridiculous angel to ever exist.

“Come on,” Potter whispered, kissing all the way down his jaw to the shell of his ear. “Let’s go back to my room. I’ve—fuck—Draco, I want you so badly.”

You have me, Draco wanted to say, almost did, heart fluttering madly at the thought. Closed his eyes, leaned his head back, tried to contain all this—impossible, fizzy joy.

“Take me, then,” he managed, only a half-truth and everything he cared for. Potter’s smile was delirious as he picked him up, bodily in his arms: and Draco’s squeal, and his laughter, all muffled in the crook of his neck, holding on tight.

The house was a maze, and they weren’t looking, and it didn’t matter. Around corners and down long corridors, their lightheaded laughter, a sock, then another, left strewn like breadcrumbs, Draco’s jumper and his boxer shorts, beacons for the morning. For now, this—Potter and that little noise he made, the one that tore right through him, Potter and his hands, and his eyes, and his mouth, and his thighs. And his smile, still somehow going wider, wild and sweet and perfect.

When Potter said, “Come,” Draco nearly burst. Kissing him and kissing him, hungrily, frantically, mewling little yes, yeses in a throaty voice. In a too-big house and still without his tea, this bright thing inside him, loud and frantic like happiness.

(Flufftober day 6. Find the soft AO3 collection here).

#drarry fic #flufftober2023 #rated M #soft soft soft soft #gentle gentle #they're just so happily entranced with each other #what can i say. it's fluff #700 words #rockingrobin69 #prompt: corn maze

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bubble-popping · 2 months ago

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day 50 :0 !! more predator/prey au :] (things get a little 'rough' after this so i prolly won't share that part but if this ever makes it to ao3 you can look back and go 'oh that's what she meant...')

It wasn't the first time Dream had been behind bars. Being the leader of a revolutionary anarchy group tended to have that kind of result. He was sure that was again the reason he was in this cell. Except, he didn't receive the usual treatment. He expected constant interrogation. He expected threats on his life and those he cared about. He expected food to be withheld and to get no sleep with only the thoughts of his beloved to comfort him. This was not what he expected. Meals on time, every day. Offers of more blankets. Quiet whistling tunes that engrossed him. Punz was not what he expected.

They sat beside his cell almost all day, maybe even all night. (Not that he actually had any idea when it was day or night.) They never asked any questions, rarely started conversation period.

It only reinforced Dream's assumption. The only explanation that made sense was indoctrination. Those purists found a vulnerable child and trained him to be a killer. The heartless motherfuckers... But it gave Dream hope. If he could just get through to him, connect with him on a deeper level, he might have a way out of this mess--for both him and Punz.

"What's that one you're always whistling?"

Punz paused in the middle of cleaning one of his daggers. He had quite the collection. Dream counted at least 15 he'd seen them using in some way.

"Why do you care?" They resumed rubbing the cloth over the blade. This one was a dark material, possibly obsidian, and they were very careful with it.

"Just asking. Is it your favorite or something?" It was the tune he'd whistled when he caught Dream, about two weeks ago if Dream was keeping track correctly. The practice always fascinated him, partly because he could never figure out how to do it himself.

"Guess you could say that. Boss taught me on my first mission."

Dream's tall ears perked. Perfect. "Ah. It's got some sentimental value then, huh?"

They shrugged. "Just something that's stuck with me."

"And this 'Boss' guy, he's the leader here?"

"He gives the missions."

Missions. That's what he called times when he'd be away, usually to kill someone. Not that he talked about them. He simply had a subtle, ever-present scent of death on him.

"How come he doesn't do it himself?

"Short answer is... he's old." Yes. It was the first time since Dream met this guy that he showed even a hint of emotion. Dream had to be careful here.

"And, the long answer?"

"I'm the only competent motherfucker in this entire compound. The one that picks up all the slack these dumbasses leave," he muttered under his breath. His next swipe of cloth against blade was quick and rough; a crease to his brow. Frustration.

"So you do pretty much everyone's work, huh? Must be difficult."

"Boss wouldn't give it to me if he thought I couldn't handle it."

'Boss' seemed to be somewhat of a parental figure, maybe the only one they ever had. That must be the connection then. The reason they were committed to these people even though they clearly didn't like any of their 'coworkers.'

"Then, how come you're not marked like the rest of them?"

Punz halted, unnaturally still. Unlike every person Dream's seen in this place, there was no tattoo on their neck. They weren't truly part of the group.

"That's none of your business." Their tone gave off a freezing chill, nearly palpable in the stale air.

"But, it's weird, isn't it? You do all the work for them but you're not even on the same, the same level as them."

He abruptly stood up, chair skidding back against the stone wall. Throwing the cloth over their shoulder, Punz stepped forward and crouched. They pointed the knife through the bars, icy blue eyes glaring with the same sharpness at him.

"You don't know anything. Not about Boss, not about my group, and certainly not about me."

"I know no matter how hard you try, they will never see you as anything more than a dog."

They growled low and threatening, baring long white canines that glinted under the light of lanterns. They looked ready to tear Dream apart.

Instead, he raised up once again and turned away, headed for what Dream presumed to be the exit.

"Where are you going??" Dream crawled towards the bars only to be stopped by the short length of the chains around his wrists.

"To get some fresh air!" He snapped, "Smells like rabbit shit in here."

Dream huffed, slumping in his spot on the cold floor. That could've gone better...

But, brainwashing wasn't something that could be undone overnight. This was progress.

#dreblr #staged duo #dsmp fanfic #predator/prey au #bubble writes #daily drabbles

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some-messed-up-writing-for-you · 2 years ago

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Short Prompt #1186

"You don't belong here," a mysterious voice hissed from the trees, making Human freeze in their tracks. "How dare you come here?"

The human gulped, slowly looking around as their body started trembling. "I-I didn't mean to trespass. I'm really s-sorry."

They could feel the burn of a furious gaze glaring into their back as they whimpered. "I-I got lost while walking back home. I swear I didn't mean to intrude. C-Could you perhaps steer me in the right direction?"

The darkness growled before something flew from the trees. Human screamed and ducked, crumpling to the ground as a thud sounded near them.

"That way. Go."

The human startled and looked up, finding a rock with a clear skid mark in the dirt, giving them direction. They jumped to their feet and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. "R-Right! Yes! T-Thank you!"

The monster watched them from the shadows, grumbling to itself while the pesky human hurried to leave its territory. At least it wasn't another hunter.

#human x monster #writing #writeblr #human #monster #prompt #short prompt #writing prompt #writing community #smuwfy #some messed up writing for you

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barbex · 4 months ago

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Happy Friday x3 For DADWC, I'd love to see: ❝ keep your eyes on me— just focus on me. we’re gonna be okay. ❞ for a pairing of your choice x3

Thank you for this @dadrunkwriting prompt (from... holy shit November 2023) Hey! Better late than never.

---

Isabela noticed it at first. Not Anders, not Hawke. Isabela.

"What's the matter?" Hawke asks, when Isabela doesn't follow her into the Hanged Man.

"I think..." she takes a few short steps, as if her feet decided for her but her mind has not caught up yet.

"Where are you going?"

Isabela looks at Hawke, something strangely vulnerable on her face. Isabela never lets anyone see into her heart and this small glimpse gives Hawke whiplash. "Izzy, what is it?"

"I think... we should go after her." Isabela's feet move again, pulling her forward, halting at first and then more secure. "Come, let's go," she calls back and if Hawke ever wondered how Isabela would be as the captain of a ship, she knows now. It's impossible to not follow her command.

Hawke runs, catching up as Isabela stomps with secure steps, strong steps that can cushion the movement of a dancing ship. "You mean Merrill?" she asks when she comes to Isabela's side.

"Yes."

"But... she said she wanted to be alone." Hawke recalls that terrible moment, when Merrill's clan cast her out over the death of Marethari. Sure, she cried on the way back, but it's not like she had seen her clan in a while. Hawke catches herself thinking that losing people is kind of normal. Or is it?

Isabela looks at her, with that unusual vulnerability in her expression. "Oh, girl, sometimes you look and you just don't see."

"What?"

But Isabela runs now, storming into the alienage and comes to a skidding halt in front of Merrill's door. She knocks, but doesn't wait for an answer, pushing the door open, just as Hawke catches up with her. She follows Isabela inside, squinting into the sudden darkness. At first, the house seems quiet, but then she hears a kind of rhythmic knocking.

"Kitten?" Isabela calls out, carefully stepping around something on the floor, which turns out to be a broken chair.

"Oh no." Now, Hawke worries. What did she miss? "Merrill?"

There is a single light in the next room, Merrill's bedroom. It's a wisp, hovering over Merrill's hunched back like a worried bird. She kneels, knocking her head against the floor.

Isabela slides down, pulling Merrill up by her shoulders. "Hey, hey, Kitten, sweet Kitten, we're here, come on, Hawke is gonna hold you." She glares at Hawke until she reacts.

"Yes, yes, come here sweety, I got you." She sits down behind Merrill and pulls her to her chest, wrapping her arms tight around her.

Merrill cries, quiet at first, and then she screams, like a wounded animal, struggling against Hawke's arms but Hawke holds her tighter, whispering against her neck. "It's alright, I'm sorry I didn't see, we're here now."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone!" Merrill whimpers between sobs, her fingernails scratching over old marks on her arms.

Isabela kneels in front of her, taking her hands, holding them to her chest. "Keep your eyes on me, Kitten, just focus on me. We’re gonna be okay."

Merrill lets out another scream, and then she collapses, sobbing in Hawke's and Isabela's arms.

Hawke looks at Isabela, grabbing her hand. "I'm so glad you saw it."

Pressing her hand Isabela sighs. "Girl, sometimes you're really blind."

#dadrunkwriting #dragon age #Merrill #Isabela #Hawke #Merrill x Isabela x Hawke #dragon age fanfiction #my writing

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ohblackdiamond · 1 year ago

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Number 7 for the KISS asks, please?

absolutely! thank you!

7. What you dislike about each member?

woo, boy...

paul --paul is actually a buzzard. paul is defensive, needy, incredibly self-conscious, incredibly self-pitying, and an absolute master at driving people away. he has retained a level of bitterness against people he hasn't worked with in two or more decades that is nothing short of spectacular. paul will rework himself to whatever he thinks john q. public wants, because he doesn't like who he actually is offstage.

gene --gene's arrogance is not entirely a put-on. gene will say anything and do anything to get attention. gene's constant cheating on girlfriends and his attitude towards women in general is reprehensible. gene is unsympathetic to others and views or has viewed addiction and mental problems as character failings while excusing his own serious issues with infidelity/using women as a "what do you expect" rockstar schtick. additionally, i would not go into business with gene for all the tea in china.

peter --peter has created or exacerbated a whole lot of his own unhappiness. peter is hotheaded and probably a gigantic pain to deal with/work with, even now. peter is very unforgiving. peter makes or has made very poor financial and career moves and really spent those fifteen years post his first kiss firing talking about stuff he was doing rather than actually doing too much of anything (tiny handful of albums that went nowhere, that he didn't even try to promote, tiny handful of bands that for the most part, other than criss, never even played!), while continuing for a number of years to receive a cut from a band he was no longer in, per contractual obligations (i'm not saying he should've noped out of it, but it's very easy to see where paul's resentment of him comes from).

ace --ace has wasted so, so much potential that it's unfathomable. he has never been willing to strike while the iron is hot, to his eternal detriment. he has set fire to decades of his life via rampant addiction-- yes, he's clean now, and i'm proud of him for it, but the damage he did to himself and his relationships with family and friends is not necessarily repairable. ace also overrates himself and has proven willing to do slimy things for the almighty dollar (selling out peter and the empty threats re: gene and paul).

eric carr --as someone who has my own issues with insecurity, i could see where eric's issues there could get old to deal with very, very fast. i get his frustrations with the band/gene and paul, but i don't think he went about things in the right way. i think he played off of gene and paul too much-- i think had he been more accepting of his hired gun role, things might have played out a little differently. i think he could've gotten hired/more creative control in a different band in the mid-eighties and been happier.

vinnie --CREATURESFEST. i was there.

mark --... is there anyone besides peter criss who can corroborate accusation against him? just curious. i'm not sure why this one is believed so wholeheartedly when i've never heard it from anyone else (and when the fandom as a whole is pretty particular on what negative accusations are believed about the band). if it's true, then yeah, that's more than reason enough for him to be scum, but if it's not, then it's hard for me to really find something to dislike about him-- he was in the band for a grand total of one album and about three shows.

bruce --bruce is... staid. you know what you're getting with bruce. but where is the fun with bruce? bruce is not going to do anything unexpected. bruce's hair is nice, bruce's guitar is in tune, and bruce is going to let paul skid/slide under him and play guitar on his back so he can have all the attention during a solo, because bruce is just that guy.

also bruce's serious fetish for stockings is not something i ever needed to know about him and i resent him for publicizing it. thank you, @bangbangyou

eric singer --eric is wasted in kiss like f. scott fitzgerald was wasted in hollywood. it's like watching scott joplin play chopsticks.

tommy --see bruce's section. tommy is just not fun. there are no surprises with tommy. he'll shoot the rockets. he'll do the backbends. but a deer is never going to fall in tommy's pool and drown, causing him to nearly be late for a show. it's consistent. it's also mildly depressing.

#kiss the band #ask meme #paul stanley #peter criss #ace frehley #gene simmons #eric carr #bruce kulick #vinnie vincent #eric singer #tommy thayer #mark st. john

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aegon-targaryen · 1 year ago

Text

Zelink Week Day 4 - Hand in Hand

read on AO3 | read on FF.net| @zelinkcommunity

Zelda swayed when she neared the house, both from the fatigue of her disoriented body and from the sight of that simple brown door.

“You okay?” Link asked, catching her around the waist.

A pair of robins sang from atop the shingles. She felt spring grass and warm earth underfoot. The breeze stirred her hair, carrying the smell of the wild and the laughter of Hateno’s children. Through her power, she could feel the embrace of Hyrule—her Hyrule, the kingdom that she’d loved and lost and saved, the kingdom she’d never expected to see again.

“Yes,” Zelda whispered, pressing her face into Link’s shoulder.

He swept her into his arms, carrying her across the threshold and up the stairs until they collapsed onto the bed, tangled together in exhausted relief.

Zelda slept until the next morning and lay there for a long time after she woke, watching Link’s chest rise and fall. She had been too blinded by tears and joy and love to inspect him closely yesterday. For so long, her last memory had been of him reaching for her desperately, gloom blackening half his body.

It had left its mark in the form of grim red whorls that climbed from his right hand to his shoulder, a sick compliment to the Guardian burns on his other side. There were other scars she didn’t recognize, and dark circles under his eyes, and his hair had grown rather ragged—but those things were typical of Link. Zelda was most worried by the fact that he’d gotten thinner.

Her own stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in thousands of years. Reluctantly, Zelda kissed Link’s forehead and climbed out of bed.

The first thing she did was strip off the white Zonai dress. She hadn’t been able to turn down Sonia’s generosity, but the truth was that it reminded Zelda far too much of the one she’d worn on the worst days of her life, the one she and Link had thrown into a blazing bonfire after the Calamity. She wouldn’t burn her last remnant of Sonia, but she felt much better in trousers and Link’s warm doublet.

Her body still seemed foreign and sluggish as she trudged downstairs, eerily reminiscent of how she’d felt after a century imprisoned in the Calamity’s cocoon—a thought Zelda couldn’t dwell on without wanting to scream. The larder offered no distraction, for it contained only cobwebs.

Where had Link been staying, if not here? Even while traveling, he could have warped home often enough to keep some food around.

Zelda had no idea how much time had passed for him since fate had torn them apart. The millennia of homesickness rose up in her throat, followed by that old, familiar longing for knowledge. Had her people suffered under Ganondorf? Were her friends safe?

She wavered between twin desires: one to climb back into Link’s arms and never leave, the other to know what state her kingdom was in. Twenty minutes, she promised her rattling heart, and walked out into the brilliant Hateno morning.

Feeling profoundly unprepared to face the whole village, she skirted a wide path to her school: her proof that a princess could serve her people better from a chalkboard than a throne. It was still too early for lessons, but Symin was awake, and he dropped his book to embrace her like a father would a daughter. Zelda didn’t know what it meant that she thought of Rauru first and Rhoam second.

He gave her a summary of what she’d missed, a promise to convey the news of her safety to Purah, and a basket laden with food. Zelda accepted all three gratefully and trekked home, already tired from the short trip and troubled by what she’d heard.

She was six feet away from the door when it slammed open and Link—clutching the Master Sword—skidded to a halt. He stared at her wide-eyed, a long breath going out of him.

“Oh,” Zelda said, realizing what he must have thought when he’d woken up alone. “Link, it’s okay. I just went to see Symin. I’m sorry—I wanted to let you sleep.”

He tried for a smile, lifting the basket from her arms. Zelda followed him to the table and laid her hands over his before he started unloading the food. He looked at her apologetically, but she just slid her arms around his bare torso and said unsteadily, “I missed you too. Every day. Every minute. I thought of you right until the end, until—until I couldn’t anymore.”

They held each other for a long time. Link pulled back first, but only so he could take her face in his calloused hands and kiss her, long and slow and passionate. At the end of it, Zelda felt like herself for the first time since she’d swallowed the secret stone.

“I love you,” he said with simple and piercing certainty. “Let’s not do that again.”

She breathed out a small laugh. “I love you too. And I agree.”

“Breakfast?” he asked.

“Breakfast,” she repeated worshipfully.

Three days passed in luxurious peace. They both slept a great deal, especially Link, though that wasn’t the only thing they did in bed. They didn’t talk much—a sense of hushed awe still hung over them both. Instead they cooked and ate like famished children, floated in the pond outside their house, and watched the stars come out over Necluda. Link tried to cut his hair back to its typical length until Zelda, watching his right hand shake, offered to do it herself.

On the third night, she shot up clutching her burning chest, pain and power boiling every inch of her away, leaving behind nothing but vast empty sky. Link woke instantly, and she clutched at him, shrieking, “My eyes! What color are my eyes?!”

“They’re green, Zelda,” he answered frantically, easing open her clenched fists to place the cool metal of the Master Sword in one and slide his fingers through the other.

Your Grace, the sword greeted, glowing gently. I am whole and healed, thanks to your efforts. So are you and my Master.

“I don’t feel healed,” Zelda whispered.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Link asked in a voice he was fighting to keep steady.

“I don’t know.” She tried to stop shaking, but she was watching him die in the rain, watching Sonia die under a red moon, watching Rauru condemn himself to the same hell she’d endured in the Calamity’s cocoon. She was clawing through the air, nothing and no one—not her parents’ child, not Hyrule’s princess, not Zelda, just a sheath for a sword. The words came out impossibly thin: “I’m so tired.”

“Sleep, then,” he murmured, hugging her tightly from behind. “Just sleep.”

She was fairly sure she’d said the same thing to him after the Calamity, when all the frantic energy he’d expended and all the tragedy of his lost memory had finally caught up. The sword chimed in, Hylia often said that everything takes its own time, Your Grace. And you are no different.

Zelda sank into Link, the sword still in her hand, and the three of them huddled there in the dark until merciful darkness returned.

It was far from her first nightmare, and she knew that the best treatment was a little joy, so in the morning Link fetched the children at her request. They had grown like weeds, yet still they tumbled all over her and listened raptly as she explained that she’d gone away to protect Hyrule. Link was hovering nearby, distracted and unsmiling, and something about this statement made him turn his face away. Before Zelda could say anything, the children pleaded with her to come down to the village.

She had never been good at telling them no, and as it turned out, there was nothing to fear. No one swarmed her or demanded details about her disappearance. This was patient, open-armed Hateno, the place Link had sacrificed everything to protect, the home they had chosen together.

As the sun beat down a reminder of summer’s approach, Zelda sent the children off to their lessons and headed for the lab atop the hill. Link walked with her until the innkeep’s loud complaint about a broken wagon wheel drew him reluctantly away.

Robbie served Zelda tea and lifted his goggles to wipe away tears when he thought she wasn’t looking. She loved this wild Hyrule as much as the one she’d grown up in, but there was something easier about being with the few people who remembered life before the Calamity—a shared sorrow she didn’t have to mask.

And research was always there to pick Zelda up when she fell. She’d fallen a great many times in her life, without ever losing her endless love for discovery.

“Oh—does Link need any sundelions?” Robbie asked when they were cleaning up the Zonai devices they’d been tinkering with. “I found a few the other day.”

“Why would he?”

“For the gloomsickness.” His goggles swiveled up to her paling face. “That Zonai arm staves off the worst of it, but—”

“What Zonai arm?” Zelda interrupted, clutching the doorframe.

Robbie winced. “Perhaps Link should answer that.”

She tried not to crush the sundelions between her fingers on the way home. Link was at the stove, bent over something that smelled ravishing, and he had a small smile for her when she stepped inside. Zelda remembered him in the darkness beneath the castle, crumpling to one knee the way she’d only ever seen him do when he was at death’s door.

“Link,” she said in a small voice. “Are you in pain?”

Following her gaze to his right arm, he shook his head.

“But Robbie said something about gloomsickness and a—a Zonai arm?”

Link frowned down at the stove. She came to his side, watching his spoon push meat and vegetables around the skillet absently, until he said, “Rauru replaced my arm with his.”

Zelda flinched. “It was that bad?”

“He and Sonia gave the real one back when they saved you.”

“But even so, the gloom was making you sick this whole time?” she persisted. “You were sick and you’d lost your sword arm and you had to fight anyway? And you haven’t been staying at home, and you’re thin, which I don’t understand because you love food so much—”

“Zelda, stop,” Link said, and she did, because he had never interrupted her before. He shoved the skillet off the flame angrily. “It’s nothing compared to what you went through.”

“We had this conversation after the Calamity, my love. Comparison gets us nowhere. We both suffered, and—”

“But I let you fall,” he said flatly, “and everything else came from that.”

Absolute silence descended. Zelda’s eyes traveled from Link’s scarred jaw to his reddening cheeks to his flinty eyes. He was going away inside himself, becoming that silent, stone-faced swordsman she’d first met—the boy who had risen to every challenge and despised every shortcoming.

“Link…” she said. “That much gloom would have killed anyone else instantly. You could barely stand, but you—you threw the sword aside and jumped for me anyway. You tried. That’s what I thought of when I missed you. That’s all I thought of! I should be angry at you!”

“Yes, you should!”

“I mean for being so reckless! Until the Master Sword came to tell me otherwise, I thought you might havefallen to your death! Haven’t I always told you what your life means? Do you think I could have swallowed the stone without knowing you were alive, without knowing you’d make it worth it? Do you think I would ever blame you for…for…”

Link’s composure cracked as she stopped to wipe her eyes. He caught her hands, his thumbs tracing over the tears she’d scrubbed into her knuckles. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—I’m so sorry for what you had to do.”

“So am I,” Zelda confessed, dropping her forehead to his shoulder and squeezing her eyes shut against the memories: the altar, the agonizing power, the endless desolation of the sky. “I wish…I don’t know. After the Calamity, I thought we were safe. I thought we’d earned that.”

“We have. We’re safe now.”

“I knew you would find me. I knew you’d claim the sword, and I had no reason to hope for more…but I did anyway, because it’s you.”

“I hoped too,” Link breathed, holding her tightly. “And you saved me at the end. I don’t know if you remember, but—thank you, Zelda.”

Right now, she only had the vague sense of waking up from a very long dream, warm with Sonia’s patient wisdom and Rauru’s unfailing strength, right where she belonged in Link’s arms. But somehow, this news came as no surprise.

“That’s what we do,” she said, smiling. “We save each other.”

Link kissed her tenderly. They both let the tears fall for a while, for they were the good kind, the healing kind. And then he carried her upstairs once again, their meal forgotten for a different kind of hunger.

Three weeks after they had plummeted back into Hyrule’s embrace, Zelda and Link stood outside Lookout Landing under a dazzlingly clear sky. Cicadas thrummed in the grass around their feet. The castle floated on the horizon, cleansed of corruption.

When Link took her hand, she knew what his silence was saying: We can go home. We don’t have to do anything more than just live.

But on the other side of the staked wall, she could hear Purah’s familiar voice calling out orders. She could smell something delicious roasting over a campfire. She could see Rito circling overhead, realizing with a start that Tulin was among them—how he’d grown! And all around her, Hyrule bloomed with the glory of spring.

For all Mineru’s warnings, Zelda had never lost herself, not really. Even stripped to her most primal core, she had come for Link, and for Hyrule. She still wanted to be the Princess of this stubborn kingdom, helping it grow like wildflowers sprouting up through the cracked earth.

She smiled at Link, and that was enough—they had never needed words. Hand in hand, they went to find their friends.

#zelink week 2023 #zelinkcommunity #loz #totk #totk spoilers #totk zelink #botw zelink #my writing #zelink #zelink fanfiction #loz fanfiction

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riftwalker-limbro · 2 years ago

Text

the second dream - part 2

masterpost

----

The first things they noticed were the bubbles.

The texture of the gate’s surface was like oil again, but worse, and for a short, disgusting moment, it felt like it enveloped them entirely, swallowing them up - and then they were through.

They landed onto a golden pad, overlooking desolate grey rocks towering over white dust. White-and-gold buildings dominated the horizon.

“The moon,” Ordis echoes his own words from earlier, though now sounding more pensive than surprised. “Somehow Ordis actually remembers the last time I was here…”

He trailed off, and for a second, they thought he was going to leave it there. Then, he added, with no trace of his usual jokey, upbeat tone: “Be careful out there, Hyena.”

That gave them a second’s pause - but no more, because the Lotus started explaining what to do from here.

“Here on the moon lies the Reservoir,” the Lotus began, “the secret to your Tenno power. But this secret is dangerous - it drove the Stalker to madness. Forgive my deception, I was only trying to protect you from the same fate.”

So they would actually learn this secret, then? They were almost a little giddy.

“Ensure the moon remains within the safety of the Void,” she commanded. “The Stalker is headed towards the Void control room, track the-”

Before she could finish the sentence, her voice fizzled out, and Hunhow’s replaced it. “Collapse the void, Shadow, so that my fragments may attack.” This time, he’d managed to actively interrupt the Lotus. He was also reaching her while they were off Uranus, now, too. He was growing more powerful by the hour. “The Tenno hearts will beat their last,” he promised.

“No!” the Lotus said, “If the Void is collapsed, the Reservoir will be destroyed, and you and all other Tenno will be lost. Get to the Void control room and stop the Stalker!”

She sounded panicked. Hyena fought to not let it take over their own mind, but it was close.

“Marking the Void control room on your map,” Ordis said. Hyena ran.

It was so far away, they thought, running through room after room, when the Stalker’s hoarse voice whispered, through Hunhow, through the Lotus: “It is done.”

They skidded to a halt as the floor started shaking underneath their feet. Rubble started falling from the ceiling, loosened by the tremors. They ran to the closest doorway for shelter.

Sounds of water falling, streaming down, their body sheltered beneath it, safe.

“The moon will soon be crushed by the weight of the Void,” Hunhow said gleefully. “The Sky will be as it should be.”

“Lotus, is there a way to reverse the Void collapse?” Ordis asked.

“No, Ordis, this is-”

“What if we pulled the moon out of the Void?”

The Lotus was silent for a moment as she thought. “... yes, that should work. I didn’t want to have to do this, but that is the only way to avoid the Reservoir being destroyed. Marking the Void Compasses to reorient the moon out of the Void.”

Consoles. They could do consoles. The first one wasn’t far, which was a blessing - they were feeling several kinds of off and panicked, their more rational half losing control.

The console beeped - done.

“I am your reckoning,” the Stalker wheezed. Lights flickered. There he was.

Fuck.

They evaded his slashes and jumped away, as the Lotus marked the next one. “The Stalker is in control of the systems here, so I will need to disconnect the consoles to regain control - supply them with power from your shields while I finish my task.”

Fucking- sacrifice their shields? With the infamous Tenno assassin in the room? The fact that they’d brushed him off easily before suddenly seemed to have much less bearing than the fact that here, everything was an unknown. The whole place was an unknown less than half an hour ago.

Laughter of friends - not mine, but each other’s - calming, signifying that all is well.

“Natah, you trust this Orokin-blood who would chisel weapons from our bones?” Hunhow hissed. The Lotus didn’t answer. “You cannot stop the inevitable!”

Through the haze of half-panic, they managed to hold off the Stalker while allowing the Lotus to finish the remaining consoles.

“There is one last step,” the Lotus said, and inwardly they screamed. She seemed allergic to explaining the entire plan at once. “Get to the Pendula - hurry. They keep the Moon stable in the void. Power them down.”

They reached a small plaza, with four large pillars surrounding it. They set foot on the floor-disk, and the centre lit up, raised up, detached itself.

“Security eye, watch out!” the Lotus yelled.

They ducked away, but barely quick enough - they could feel the heat of where the laser of the security eye nearly scorched their leg. They could hear stone crumbling, though, and when they looked -

“The security eye just destroyed a Pendulum,” the Lotus said. “See if you can get it to destroy the other ones, too!”

They did not appreciate having to use themselves as bait, at all. But they got it done. Before long, the last Pendulum crumbled, and the tremor that had been shaking the moon up until now got so, so much worse. They could feel it in their-

The laughter died out, suddenly. They looked up. A man, blue-skinned and clearly in a foul mood, talking to their protector.

“Hold on, this will not be a smooth ride,” she said, and they had to blink away the afterimage of someone they could swear they once knew. Something about this place was incredibly off.

“Marking a safe place to sit out the fall,” Ordis said. “Hurry!”

They didn’t need to be told to hurry, at all. They ran like their life depended on it. It probably did.

They turned corners narrowly enough to touch the walls, footfalls raining on the flooring like gunshots. They could hear someone’s laboured breaths - but it wasn’t the Stalker, or anyone else they knew. The visions they’d been plagued with since coming here were suddenly so much more intense.

“-what they need, Margulis, is to be destroyed!” The blue-skinned man snarled at their protector. “They’re devils from that hell, not human anymore.”

Rubble crashed into the floor in front of them, and they scraped their arm narrowly avoiding it. The noise it made grated, but they couldn’t feel pain right then.

“No, Ballas, no more destruction. We could heal them. Maybe they’re meant to save us.” The second voice calmed them immediately. They shushed the younger one sitting with them, listening in on the conversation with them, whose lip had started trembling ever so slightly, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

They hopped into an elevator, fearfully watching the ceiling. They could hear someone’s heartbeat loud in their ears.

“How can you defend these devils, Margulis, after what they’ve done to you?”

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind.”

After the elevator, more endless hallways, decorated richly, empty and devoid of anything good. Finally, they reached the place Ordis had marked as safe - they ducked into the bunker.

“They won’t hurt anyone - I just need time.”

“Hush, my wilted love. I cannot protect you. Tomorrow, you must renounce before the seven-”

They ducked their head, holding it between their hands as they trembled, as the ground trembled, as boulders fell from above and crushed down. They were safe. Safe, they assured themself. Safe.

—

“Hyena?” Ordis asked, worry evident in his tone.

They pulled their head from between their hands. When had they crouched down onto the floor? “I’m- I’m here, is the moon-?”

“The moon is no longer in the Void,” the Lotus said, “no longer at risk of being destroyed in a Void collapse, but Hunhow is now able to attack the Reservoir directly-”

“Shadow,” Hunhow spoke up, as if summoned, smug, “bleed the Reservoir until it is dry.”

No, no no no-

“This will stop the voices from taking hold,” their protector said, gentle, but with a sadness. “You will have to dream, my angel…”

Again, they were running - the Reservoir, protect it from the Stalker, save the-

“-shame on you!” their protector shouted, anger boiling over. “You Orokin, so perfect on the outside but you’re rotted, through and through!”

Foreign-familiar noises, turning around, a Sentient fighter, Hunhow’s fragment, in this desecrated sanctuary - kill it, get rid of it before it adapts - it laid on the floor in pieces -

“Seven hands raised,” the angry blue man said. “For your apostasy, the judgement is- death.”

A horrible flash, and she - their protector, their surrogate mother - was gone.

“Margulis, why?” the foul-tempered man asked, as if he hadn’t just allowed this to happen.

Dizziness, a splitting headache growing in the back of their skull and not letting up.

“It’s about the other rejects that we consigned to Lua a few years ago. They’re calling it Transference.”

“I know we’re desperate, Executor, but these aren’t Dax soldiers. These are golems, possessed by devil minds.”

They reached the Reservoir. The noise of the waterfalls was deafening, sounding double in their head. Suddenly, something inside of them let go - separated. He grasped for it, but it slid through his hands like sand.

The room was reacting to their presence. The waterfall split, white tendrils bringing up a vessel of some sort. It looked painfully familiar. The sudden void in his mind echoed with recognition.

The vessel opened up, revealing a child in an exosuit, carefully being carried to the floor by the detachable seat - being dropped to the floor - collapsing.

Voiceless, Sufford screamed for the child which had just been ripped from his mind - he could no longer protect them, and he fell to his knees, overcome with darkness.

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sheriff-caitlyn · 2 years ago

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The two officers - one a fleetfooter, the other who began as a clerk - were both somewhat startled by what the sheriff had to say to them earlier in the week, but Vi’s presence had been a reassurance. This second meeting is much milder, though both Roadwarden Axyl and Officer Tale are still sitting stiffly and exchanging nervous glances.

Caitlyn speaks, slowly, measured, giving the two officers time to ask questions and take notes. Vi interjects, now and then, and Caitlyn will occasionally have to correct Vi or point out that ‘that is not true’ or ‘do not take that advice’. Nearly two decades of partnership have made even their interruptions and banter very smooth, and indeed even integral to this whole meeting.

At least, until Vi’s hexphone chimes. Caitlyn dryly lets the officers know that, while individuals in the Commissary are expected to be working during their working hours, they are still citizens, and thus --

“Cait, check your phone.”

‘Cait’. Not ‘cupcake’. Caitlyn glances at Vi, frowning, then reaches into her coat pocket. Her own hexphone is on silent, but yes, it is thrumming.

“Oh.” She says. And then, as she stands, louder and more alarmed. “Oh!”

“Can I drive?”

“Absolutely not.” Caitlyn puts her phone away, and addresses Axyl and Tale. “I am afraid we are going to have to cut things short for the moment. Resuming the same time tomorrow?”

“Or later in the week.” Vi is already grabbing her and Caitlyn’s coats and scarves. “C’mon, c’mon, we gotta go!”

“Yes, quite.” Alarm, but excitement. Caitlyn is almost smiling. “Thank you,” she tells the officers. “I will be in touch.”

“Cait! Now! Get movin’!”

Caitlyn turns to hurry after Vi, who is already bolting for the stairs because the elevator won’t be fast enough for either of them. Caitlyn makes up for her few-seconds-delay tardiness by driving a little faster through town than the snow might permit. A little skidding seems to be well within the accepted norm, even if she does slow down to make sure she parks correctly.

Aaron is waiting for them in the hospital lobby, for once in recent months with his eyes bright and a smile returned to his face. The three of them take the stairs at a rush, heading to the maternity wing.

“You think I’m gonna be an aunt, or an uncle?” Vi asks, as they make for the room marked with Kelly’s name.

#caitlyn #vi #piltover's finest #coming to a close #aaron #kelly #the future begins with us

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quirkessake · 1 year ago

Text

Oh, Quirke! He was running late again! Old Dr. Pomeroy would surely have his head for this one. He'd be on toilet duty for a week if he didn't get these artefacts sorted before tea. Tom scurried through the museum, papers and scrolled up maps flourishing from each arm, with all the harried grace of a mad jackrabbit. Through the Natural History exhibit, a b-line to Old Gods, and past Old Tech—

"Oi!"

The shout startled him. His boots skidded and skipped over the marble flooring and he very nearly slid face-first into a display of the museum's finest comm-puters. He righted himself, turned to look behind for any other Historian, and came to the irritating conclusion that the woman must indeed be speaking to him. He really hadn't the time, but... Sighing, Tom gathered his spilling documents and decided that it would be best to get it out of the way quickly rather than have a visitor disturbing the whole of the museum. Maybe the courtesy would get him back into Pomeroy's good graces.

"Don't shout! Don't shout, now," he hushed, visibly flustered. "This is a place of learning, you know. It's the most important and sacred building on all of London, short a church." Refugees! They took so long to catch up. Still, she seemed interested, and that was a positive. So few people seemed interested in history these days. Tom came to her side to see what she had been looking at.

"Ah. Yes, this is one of my favorites, actually," he said, brightening. "These are a collection of electric devices that the Senior Historians believe date back to the 21st century. Unfortunately we've never been able to make them work, but we think these could be fitted with a seedy." Tom pointed to what once must have been a children's CD player. The player's baby pink paint looked incongruously cheerful beneath the scorch marks, missing buttons, and half deformed, melted plastic. Behind the collection of players and crushed iPods, the display was backed with a carefully hand painted cityscape. Tall, twisting buildings like something from a science fiction novel stretched toward a sky crowded with airplanes and airships while people dressed like popstars wandered the streets below. Above, brilliant, bolt text in Anglish read: WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF THE 2000s!

Tom bounced a little on the balls of his feet looking greatly pleased.

"The Ancients would use them—the seedies—to share songs, stories, and wisdom. Like this one." He stepped to the left and pointed with his nose down to the next display case. "The story of a fierce huntress that the Ancients called the British Spear."

Or that's what they assumed, anyway. The seedy was rather damaged (most had not survived the Sixty Minute War at all), and the only clue they had was the partially missing face of a woman and badly scratched text reading Brit Spear. Tom didn't think the woman looked much like a huntress, or a warrioress, or anything very fierce at all, but then the Ancients had lived in a strange, violent world...

"I'm... sorry, what was your question again?" he asked.

( @quirkessake liked for a starter )

The Doctor had said not to wander far and technically, she hadn't. Donna was doing something rare for her. She was standing in the midst of a museum --- taking in a little culture as it were. The reality of it was that she was standing in front of a particular display, her mouth slightly agape.

Really?

Taking a deep breath, she turned slightly until she saw someone she assumed worked there. "Oi!" she called, hoping to get his attention. "What is the meaning of this? You lot don't think this was what London was really like in the 2000s do you?!"

#hello! i'm afraid i don't have any icons yet :( but please feel free to keep using yours!#also this got kinda long whoops. tom got excited #anoblewomxn

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2005djset · 6 years ago

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today was ok work was fine i think i’m bad at it cause it was my first day but people were nice class was boring and i hate it i wish i didn’t take the second shift at work cause i basically wasted 4 hours doing nothing waiting for my second shift i could’ve gone and done something else i need to get more bananas after work i had half a banana a salad and a beer today i should eat better i’m hoping if i work a lot this year i can maybe save enough to move to echo park next semester even though it’s farther away from school and like three times more expensive it’s only like a 30 minute bus ride things seem so familiar and nice there i feel like i can plant myself there i think it’s what i need my mom sent me a nice text this morning wishing me good luck today my mom took me to school everyday of my life and always gave me two kisses before i left i miss my parents eyes they have those little crinkles you get when you age but i think they look nice and kind my mom would probably be upset about how dirty my apartment is i hope my class doesn’t get cancelled that would sux cause then i would have to take some random class that doesn’t mean anything but then nothing means anything anyway not even a degree

#yes those are my shoe skid marks on the wall #also i hate walking around campus and seeing guys in pastel chino shorts #no offense those r ugly #but i also don’t know anything about fashion #my opinion means nothing

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enderpearlll · 2 years ago

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Yandere Bob Velseb headcanons.

TW/CW: Cannibalism, yandere content, stalking, murder, blood, biting, sadism, etc…

A/N: I am a simp for unhinged chubby men

• With a disheveled appearance and a maniacal grin, Bob can scare the daylights out of anyone in a five mile radius. (well, unless you’re one of two odd kids named Skid and Pump) He will gladly butcher someone with no remorse, but for some reason you bring out something in him that’s more primal and possessive. Something that he loves to indulge in more than he would like.

• Bob will murder anyone who tries to get close to you; he won’t even bother eating them either. He thinks they are human scum, and he isn’t a big fan of cheap meat. Unworthy of you and his next meal, he’ll probably dump the body somewhere like a dumpster where they belong.

• Bob also thinks it’s the most romantic thing in the world to bring you human organs like hearts. He’ll preserve them in strong chemicals and wrap a blood red bow around the rim and leave it on your doorstep. Bob swoons when you finally find it, and relishes in the horrified scream you make. He even cleans a few bones to leave scattered across your house. Isn’t that sweet.

• He loves to get a reaction out of you, whether it be positive or negative. Bob’ll scare you, threaten you, or even say something completely out of pocket that it catches you off guard and he loves it. Not that he’d actually do it though, right?

• Stalks you like crazy. He’s on the more older side so he isn’t good with technology, so he prefers to do it the “old-fashioned” way as Bob calls it. Hides in your trees, shrubs, closets, etc… Bob steals a lot of your personal belongings as well. Has a literal room dedicated to you.

• He’s a great chef and enjoys making food for you. Bob would leave home cooked meals on your counter after a long day, which was terrifying because you lived alone. And you definitely didn’t make any burgers for lunch earlier that day.

• Bob has a thing with biting. Like, if you actually have the guts to get involved with this man he will always leave some sort of mark on you. And oh boy, if you like a possessive partner than he’s the one for you.

• Will leave ungodly amounts of love bites and literal bites on you wherever flesh is exposed. It’s always a surprise because you could be doing anything and Bob will suddenly appear then he sinks his teeth into you. It’s deep enough to cause bruising and a bit of bleeding, to which he’s eager to lap up with his tongue.

• He loves being close to you in anyway, but he loves being rough. Bob’ll squeeze you until you’re short of breath, dig his nails into your cheeks, press slobbery kisses into the crook of your neck, etc… He enjoys the pain on your face as much as he enjoys making you smile.

• Bob has a eerie fascination with whatever you do, whether it be sitting down and reading a book or doing chores, he will be watching. Even if you aren’t aware. He finds everything you do adorably endearing. Eventually he would butt in to grab your attention, completely disregarding anything you were doing before.

• He’s oddly comfortable to lie on, and you even asked to sleep on top of him one night. Bob said yes immediately of course, and when you flopped on top of him he melted. You were like a weighted blanket, warm and cozy. The man is very insistent on sleeping with you in that position now, and will get grumpy if you accidentally roll off or decline. Bob simply rolls over and plops you back onto him.

• Bob can fill an entire page with all of the pet names he calls you, and will rarely use your actual name. He likes to tease you with his voice, often bending down to your height and whispering your favourite pet name in your ear. He feels you flush red hot underneath him and he bursts out laughing.

• Now, just because he’s a sweetheart on the surface doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have more darker urges. Bob will often threaten you if you try to leave the house, pointing a knife to your neck and smiling impossibly wide. He’s properly secured the house to insure you wouldn’t leave him. If you mention any of your friends and family do not eat anything he gives you in the next week.

• Thinks that you getting angry or upset is entertaining. You can try getting underneath this man’s skin all you want, he’ll simply shut you up with a thinly veiled threat. At the very least, it’s a game to him. To see who breaks first. And by the looks of it, you look like you’re losing. There isn’t much time until you completely surrender to him.

• Overall, Bob is unhinged and unhindered by morals. He will gladly chop off your limbs or two to have a taste of your sweet flesh. He thinks it’s a form of intimacy, your sugary skin sliding down his throat. You scream and cry in pain but he pays no mind, completely lost in your flavour.

• If you deny his affections or inevitably grow fearful of him, Bob will rejoice in the chase that pursues. He always loved working hard for what he deserves.

#yandere blog #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere spooky month #spooky month #spooky month x reader #yandere writing #bob velseb #yandere bob velseb #bob velseb x reader #yandere x you

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mytheoristavenue · 2 years ago

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*turns on lap in dark room* ya know what im here for 😈😈 may I request a 2012perv x clueless reader for Mikey and Raph please 🙇🏾‍♀️🙇🏾‍♀️

Sure thing, this will be the Mikey version!

TMNT 2012 Perv!Michael Angelo x Clueless!Reader - Boo Boos

Summary: While out skating, Mikey scrapes up his knee and takes a guilty pleasure in being the subject of your care.

Warnings: Perv! Mikey, mention of injury, innuendo, language, sub!Mikey, praise kink

"Crap!" Mikey hissed dramatically, groaning while splayed out on the dirty cement floor of the defunct subway station. You gasped and scurried over to him, skidding on your knees to his side.

"Oh my gosh, Mikey, are you okay?" you fretted, hesitantly reaching out to touch the fresh red marks on his skin.

"Obviously not," he scoffed, finally sitting up. "I totally wipe out." He pouted for a moment before his eyes wandered over to his skateboard, divided in two, and laying scattered on the abandoned train tracks. "Shit, my board!" He cried, limping over to the edge of the sidewalk and looming over it. "It's snapped in half! Goddamnit!"

"Maybe we should just go home?" you suggested, trying to pry him away from the ground by his shoulder. "We should get you patched up or you might get dirt in your scrape."

He sighed unhappily, and rolled over onto his shell, head drooping over the cliff. "Yeah whatever, just grab my board, would ya?"

-----

After a short trek back to the lair, you tossed your now crippled friend onto the couch while you bustled around the living space. "Maybe Donnie can fix it," you cooed in an effort to lift his spirits. "I'll take it to him on the way to get the first aid kit." Mikey sat on the sofa, heavily pouting. This was so lame. When you came back, you had the aforementioned kit, a bottle of alcohol, a rag, and no skateboard. "Good news," you chirped, walking over. "Don said it'd be an easy fix and he should have time for it in a few days."

"A few days?!" he whined. "What am I supposed to do until then?"

You shrugged nervously. It seemed like nothing could make him happy. "You can borrow mine until then, sound good?"

"I guess..." he sighed, propping his chin on his fist. His annoyance was short lived, attention caught by by something shifting in his peripheral. Looking down, he found that you'd situated yourself between his legs, peering up at him with the prettiest smile. "What are you doing?" he asked, heat creeping into his cheeks.

"Fixing up your knee?" you giggled. "It would have been awkward if I sat beside you and had to lean over you." This wasn't much less awkward, he had to admit, but he didn't plan on asking you to move. Secretly, he rather enjoyed the sight of you sitting between his knees.

"Whatever, just make it quick." he scoffed, averting his gaze in order to hid his flushed face. He once again hissed as you dabbed an alcohol soaked cotton ball against his tender flesh. He made moves to try and escape you, but he couldn't bring himself to tear away from your dainty grasp on his ankle. "Fuck, (Y/N), that hurts!"

"I know it does," you soothed, stroking a thumb against his calf. "But you're taking it like a champ." Something about the double meaning of your words, paired with the innocence of your smile did him in. You could pour that entire bottle of chemical onto his wounds right now, and he'd let you with few complaints, as long as you praised him like that again.

"I-I am?" he sputtered, relaxing a bit under your touch. You nodded proudly, dabbing his knee again, this time with a clean, wet rag.

You sure are," you cooed, unwinding a roll of gauze between your hands. "Doing so good, Mikey." The terrapin shudder at the way his name sounded when it left your lips. "Now hold still so I can wrap it, we're almost done."

His breath hitched at the way your eyes batted up at him, looking so deliciously oblivious to how incredibly seductive your tone was. "Y-yes, Mommy."

Your eyes shot open at his comment, and your hands froze in mid air. Your gaze darted to his, shocked and a little unnerved. "What did you just say?"

Mikey's entire world was falling down around him. He couldn't have possibly just said that, could he? There was no way he'd be that stupid! Frantically he searched for some type of excuse, to gaslight you into thinking you'd misheard. "Uh," he stalled. "Sorry. Heh, get it?" You waited with cautious eyes for the punchline of his joke, only for it to be farther delayed by awkward silence. "Like the meme, ya know? 'Mommy? Sorry. Mommy? Sorry.' Heh heh, it's funny!"

His hands trembled with humiliation as you eyed him like a rabbit would a dog, carefully packing the first aid kit and backing away. "That's...still pretty weird, Mike." As you set the kit on the kitchen island, you grabbed your bag, pretending to glance at your phone. "Uh, it's pretty late. I'm gonna head out..."

You couldn't leave the lair quick enough, and you made sure to grab your skateboard on the way out, no longer comfortable with letting him borrow it. He watched you leave, head hung in shame and the last few minutes playing on repeat in his mind before flailing back onto the couch to whine.

"Damnit!"

Taglist:

@sunshinesdaydream @helpyaw @thelaundrybitch @momii @camillahorne26 @turtle-babe83 @fyreball66 @sharpwindow @roseygardenfan @witchofthenorthstar @pheradream15

#tmnt #lemon speaks #tmnt 2012 #mikey 2012 #mikey x reader #tmnt mikey #tmnt mikey x reader #perv!mikey #michael angelo #tmnt fluff #tmnt smut #tmnt lime #tmnt lemon

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darlincollins · 2 years ago

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more awkward teenager shifter hcs because yes

david constantly falling over because he grew 8 inches in about 3 days and keeps knocking his head into things because he's not used to having to duck yet

asher discovers half-shifting and tries to keep himself in that state the entire school day to look buff but it's really not working and he keeps growing and shrinking randomly until the teachers tell him to knock it off

milo gets so impassioned during an in-class debate he shifts on the spot and has to wiggle out of the desk and go to the nurse's office still in wolf form to get a change of clothes

darlin tries to growl menacingly at someone who's annoying them but their voice cracks midway through and they still think it's the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to them and will not discuss it

the teens going on a pack run but they're not used to running in wolf form so they keep bonking into trees and falling over- at one point asher tries to make a turn but skids into christian and knocks them both into a creek

using pack telepathy to talk during class seems like a good idea at first but it quickly devolves into 'guys shut up the teacher is asking everyone questions' 'HEY AMANDA WHY DID THE DAEMON CROSS THE ROAD' 'HI [TEACHER NAME]' 'guys she said to stop talking-' 'WHO KEEPS HUMMING TAKE ON ME STOP IT' and a whole herd of them eventually get sent to the principal's office

everyone practicing shifting skills and play fighting together in milo's backyard but they all get so muddy that marie turns the hose on them and they're just howling mournfully

all of them going through so many clothes because they keep accidentally tearing or losing them- at some point darlin and arden run experiments to figure out how elastic the waistbands of shorts/sweatpants/etc. need to be in order to keep them on in wolf form

david walks in on milo crouched on the floor in front of wolf asher holding out a handful or grapes and a chocolate bar and immediately walks back out before going "wAIT" and sprinting back in because none of them know if they can still eat those foods (gabe needs a full 5 minutes to stop laughing before he can reassure them that they don't need to call an ambulance)

darlin goes on a solo run without any supplies or navigational equipment assuming their new wolf abilities will help them figure out how get back home quickly but they get lost and have to use their flip phone to ask gabe to pick them up from the middle of nowhere

milo goes through a very wolf-aesthetic heavy phase (the shirts with howling wolves superimposed over the moon, crescent moon cord necklace, wolf-themed school supplies, etc.) and keeps ordering his meat rare for the Wolf Vibe even though he hates it (sweetheart has multiple backup copies of all these pictures and can't look at them without crying from laughter)

similarly darlin reads one jack london book and gets really into the Wilderness/survival aesthetic, then spends many weekends getting scolded by marie and gabe for their extremely poorly planned stunts like accidentally starting a small brush fire, getting lost in the woods, accidentally cutting themself on their utility knife, and eating mildly toxic berries because after all their big talk about being a survivalist expert they can't bring themself to hunt anything

asher refuses to get his braces put back in after the Incident (extremely valid of him honestly) and to this day despises going to the dentist more than anything

david's all black clothing aesthetic keeps getting ruined because of the wolf fur that seems to be magnetically attached to all his shirts at all times and he gets extremely frustrated about it

uno and monopoly are temporarily banned from game nights until everyone gets more control over their shifting because asher's mom is tired of fixing the claw marks in her furniture every time someone loses their temper

#redacted asmr #redacted shaw pack #redacted david #redacted asher #redacted milo #redacted darlin #redacted gabe

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