#COUGH HACK WHEEZE. I HEART CHARACTER

[starheirxero]

REVENGE UPON @bumble-the-sun-bee BITE BITE BITE BITE

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

He is jealous. You have posted pictures of his brother from another mother all day.

Crash Into Me

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Jonathan Pine

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A flash then a whip and a roaring crash. The impact jars you back before your face hits something that makes it radiate. Your nose throbs and your body buzzes. The image of the dark road fades to a staticky confusion.

You hear wheezing. You're not sure if it's your or the body in the next seat. Who was it again? Nick. Yes. Nick. Is he okay? Are you okay?

You're at a dead stop. A minute ago you were moving. You were going somewhere. Home.

As Nick drove away from the shore into the dim dusk, you're eyelids drooped. You were dozing when the world began to spin.

You groan and focus on moving your arms. They feel like sandbags. You put your hands on the airbag and push back. You're crowded in the tightspace. Broken glass crunches on the pavement.

Footsteps come closer and closer. You blink, trying to clear the fog. Your head is full of cotton. You take a breath that clogs your throat with the taste of iron. Warmth spouts from your nose and lines the creases of your lips.

The door opens with a sickening wrench. The metal whines and the car lurches. You gurgle as a shadow looms beneath the moonlight.

The figure reaches across you. The belt clicks and repels. You cough as the buckle hits your shoulder.

You croak but can't trace your lips around the question clustered in your chest. A soft stroke across your hairline makes you shiver. Something warm snakes behind your back. You moan as you're lifted from the seat.

Your head falls against a shoulder as your legs dangle over the man's arm. It must be a man to be carrying you so easy.

"Ni--Nick?" You scratch out. Your head lolls and the man hikes you up, snugger to him. "Nnnngh...."

"Shhh, darling, no need to fret," the voice lilts. "I've got you."

Your mind races. You know that voice. That accent. You recognise the scent wafting into your lungs.

"What...Jon...Jonathan..."

"Please, you must keep your strength, darling," he purrs. "Else you won't recover very quickly."

"What... what did you do?" You babble and flick your lashes, the stars blurry and the night heavy.

He's silent as he carries on. You turn your head and peek past him. You see Nick's car, the headlights cracked and the nose hugging a pole.

He shifts and angles you so you can't see more than the nocturnal smear above. He slides you across the backseat, guiding your body over the cushion. You drone in confusion.

"Jonathan?" You squeak.

"Darling," he stands, his silhouette a swath of black silk in the silver moonlight, "do not ask what I've done and consider the same of yourself." He moves your feet so your legs are bent. "You will see that this is nothing I've done, it is all upon your shoulders."

He shuts the door and you flinch. The glare of the broken headlights casts over you. You snort back another dam of phlegm and blood, hacking until it dislodges. You spit it onto the floor as the driver's side opens.

Jonathan lowers himself into the seat. Your heart pounds and your breath picks up. He turns the engine and steers past the flashing high beams of the wreckes car. He's calmly silent as he passes without a glance.

You close your eyes but cannot block out the man in the front seat or reality. What he's done is wrong, but what he says is true. You knew he wouldn't stop, yet you still ran away.

[forge-octarian-jacket]

Forget-Me-Nots .

based off this post .. smiles

Text colors . Becayse I have to color code everything ;

Orange : Forge

Red : Army

Blue : Full Moon Glasses

Overview : Hanahaki Disease , caused by unrequited love for someone your unsure would even recourate .

Forge , Team Orange’s beloved co-Captain , has developed Hanahaki , the love of her captain causing it .

Forget-Me-Nots are such fragile flowers .

TW ; Major character death ( spoiler someone dies ) , blood , vomit (?)

Forge coughed as she retched once more , hacking up more blood and flowers .

She knew what this was , Hanahaki Disease . She knew why she had it , her love for her Captain .

Cod how she adored him , his laugh , his eyes , everything about him .

Her heart ached as she stared at the flowers littering her bathroom .

Forget-Me-Nots . Beautiful , blue flowers which symbolized true love & devotion .

Her favorite flowers matter of fact .

The flowers blue petals were stained with blood , her blood .

She felt tears well in her eyes , it wouldn’t hurt to tell Captain she loved him .. right ?

——

“ Forge ? You’ve been distant lately , everything ok ? “ Army questioned her as they settled into the small cafe , it was a spot special to them .

They used to hold team meetings here , they’d celebrated everyone’s birthday here , the staff even knew Team Orange by name .

But today was diffident .

“ Forge ? “

“ I.. I’m f-fine .. j-just need to .. talk to y-you . “ She wheezed , she couldn’t look at him . Her chest hurt .

After ordering and whatnot , Forge finally found then Courge . She had to tell him .

Now or Never .

“ A-Army .. “

“ Yes Forge ? “

“ I-I .. I love you Army . I-I have for years .. “

Army blinked , quickly realizing what she meant .

“ O-oh .. oh Forge I’m so sorry darling . I .. I don’t like you like that , besides .. I’m dating Full Moon .. “

Forge pushed down a sob , she knew the answer already but she had to just .. confess .

“ i’m sorry .. “

Forge felt a coughing fit rise and quickly turned away from Army , hacking up blood and flowers inti her napkin .

——

“ Forge ? Forge ? “ Full Moon called out , the orange squid had disappeared a few days eariler after .. that .

“ I’m going to check her bedroom , I’m sure she’s in there . “

“ Oh .. alright nerd . Call me if you find her . “

Army nodded and headed to Forge’s bedroom .

Upon reaching it , he gently knocked and told Forge he wanted to make sure she was alright .

No response .

He knocked again .

Nothing .

“ hmm .. ergh .. fuck jt . Forge ! I’m coming in ! “ He grabbed the doorknob and twisted it , pushing Forge’s door open .

Her room was a mess , tissues covered the floor .. along with .. flowers ?

Army picked up a flower , noting it was a Forget-Me-Not , her favorite .

He followed the trail , which lead to the bathroom door .

He knocked and told Forge he was coming in if she didn’t respond .

Nothing . Not even an ok .

Army felt anxiety rise and pushed the door open .

He gasped .

There lay Forge , unmoving and lifeless , a small puddle of her own blood near her mouth .

More flowers .. they littered the floor arouhd her , majority being in the blood .

“ F-forge .. ? “ Army quickly set to work , his medical skills telling him to do something , anything , to save her .

He started chest compressions , but found it was difficult to do so .

He glanced to her face , her once tired , but caring purple eyes seemed fogged and faded .

He checked for a pulse .. nothing .

“ Army ! Hey did y— O-oh my cod .. “ Full Moon came running in , holding a flower in her palm .

“ I-is .. she ..? “

“ yes . “ Army didn’t remove his gaze from Forge’s eyes , the same eyes that had been so dull onky a few days ago .

“ I-it’s Hanahaki I-I think ? “

“ What ? “

“ Hanahaki Disease , it’s where someone who falls in love with someone begins to grow flowers in their lungs Becayse they aren’t sure if their crush wilk reciprocate their feelings . “

It made sense now .

The blood , the flowers . Forge’s confession .

Oh god her confession .

“ I .. I could’ve saved her . I-If I had juts accepted her confession .. S-she .. s-she’d .. “ Army’s voice turned into incomprehensible sobs as he buried his face into Forge’s chest , staining her jacket with his tears .

——

Forge’s funeral was a blur . Army could barely stand when they lowered her coffin , a fresh bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots placed upon the coffin .

Once the dirt had been filled , Army dropped to his knees and sobbed , aplogizinh over and over to Forge like it would bring her back .

Full Moon gently rubbed his shoulders , her eyes red & puffy and face tear-stained .

“ I-I’m so sorry Army .. “

Army turned to face Full Moon , burying his face into her shoulder and continuing to sob .

——

Army couldn’t look at Forget-Me-Nots anymore , all he saw was Forge .

It felt as if he saw those blue flowers wherever he went now . Almost as if they were haunting him , as if they were a testament to Forge’s love & devotion to him .

He felt guilty about all this , why hadn’t he noticed sooner .. he should’ve noticed sooner .

He hiccuped, pulling Forge’s jacket closer to himself .

“ I’m sorry Forge .. I’m so sorry .. “ He muttered running a hand along the gravestone .

He continued to mutter and sob , leaving against the stone until dawn , until Full Moon came and found him , carrying some pastries & a fresh bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots .

[corpsesoldier]

Please tell me about Like Brother Dogs!

gladly! basically it's a canon divergent au where after the caitvi break up, during vi's pit fighter era, what if sevika had a moment of weakness and felt bad for our favorite pathetic butch?

it takes place immediately following the vi/sevika pwp I wrote and then I made the fatal mistake of getting too attached to the character dynamic I established there. in the list of fic ideas I keep on my phone, it says "I'm being fucking HAUNTED by vivika class war longfic".

and it is long! 57k words and counting and by far the longest thing I've ever written and we are NOT done yet. the only problem is I'm slow as all fuck and I'm afraid of starting an update schedule and missing a release and then getting too scared to continue, so I need to make sure I have enough chapters in reserve that that doesn't happen. I'm a delicate flower. writing is hard. I was originally afraid of waiting too long and missing the post-s2 fandom high but my consolation is that I'm writing a rarepair like ten people total care about, so there's no zeitgeist to miss.

anyway, have a piece of the chapter I'm working on now, which has been a nightmare to write for some reason but! I finally got past the conversation part and might finally be able to move on to the smut!

-------------

“And what then?” Vi said. “You hide down here like a rat while Piltover chokes you out?”

“I’ve survived before. A great deal more than you could possibly imagine.”

They all had. That’s why they needed this to work. “It’s different this time. They aren’t—she isn’t going to let things go back to normal. Piltover isn’t going to be satisfied with our metal and our gas. They’re afraid of us. They can’t pretend to be in control anymore. We blew up their council—”

“<i>I</i> did no such—”

“They don’t care!” Vi shouted. “We’re animals to them! And when you can’t control an animal, you put it down. Piltover, their Commander, that fucking Noxian—someone’s going to come down here to wipe us out and unless you get with the fucking picture, they’ll erase you and your guys and all your fucking territory, too. You’re not any different than us. Not to them.”

The silence that followed was as fragile as a pane of glass, white cracks spiderwebbing over the surface. Chross’s men had their hands beneath their coats, reaching for weapons Vi couldn’t see. Knives if they were lucky. Guns if they weren’t. Beside her, Sevika went still as a coiled spring. The only thing that moved was the claw at the center of the table, levering open slowly and soundlessly.

Well, Vi thought, she’d tried. 

But before any of them could start killing each other, Chross made a horrible scraping noise deep in his chest, his shoulders curling with little convulsive jerks. For one strange moment, Vi and the goon behind Chross regarded each other with identical looks of alarm. In theory, it might be better for the old chembaron to drop of a heart attack than it was to actually kill him, but Vi didn’t know how closely anyone would look if he turned up dead on her floor.

“Boss?” One of the man’s thick hands hovered over Chross’s shoulder uncertainly. The other was still in his coat pocket.

Chross waved away his concern. He drew a stained handkerchief from a pocket and hacked a wet cough into it before tucking it discreetly away again, still wheezing lightly. He was laughing, Vi realized in blank astonishment. His men seemed just as confused as she was. She almost wanted to laugh herself. It would have been embarrassing to start shooting each other over an old man’s bad sense of humor.

“Your lieutenant is very persuasive, Sevika,” Chross said once he’d collected himself. “You wouldn’t think so to look at her.”

[fwitoley]

Do you think that on The Chosen, Judas reasons for following Jesus were underdeveloped? It appears that Judas was genuinely convicted by that sermon Jesus preached to the masses, although the show doesn't specify what it was about the sermon that made Judas think that Jesus was greater than all the other messiah figures out there. Do you think the show will correct this, or is it too late?

A lot of the things about Judas on The Chosen are underdeveloped and vague, one of the most prominent is his relationship with Jesus. Did Judas lose his salvation or was he never saved to begin with? There's a moment on The Chosen where Jesus said that he once had Judas heart, that caused some people to think that Judas lost his salvation. Dallas addressed this in a video but refused to give a yes or no answer to the question. I've got a feeling Dallas is keeping Judas underdeveloped on purpose.

Do you think the reason Judas on The Chosen was so underdeveloped was because Judas as a character was just a little too dark and depressing for the writers to want to fully explore? While Ramah’s death was tragic, it was softened by the implication that she was going to heaven, but with Judas, oh boy. No character from the Bible is more associated with hell than Judas, and his story ends so horrifically. Imagine earnestly seeking God’s forgiveness but being so lost that you actually make things worse for yourself. That’s a topic I think many writers would want to avoid, and I can’t say I blame them.

Maybe the writers just want to get Judas story over with so they can move onto the more upbeat stuff. After all, the opening music of The Chosen sounds like something out of a feel good comedy.

i'll start by saying that i have not watched season 5 of The Chosen (because SOME mega corporation (*cough cough* PRIME-- *hacking wheeze*) refuses to stream it until next week or something), so I have not seen how the show portrays Judas's betrayal and all that. Ig I can't say much about that, but I feel like for the most part, Judas's fall from grace is coming together pretty good from a storytelling point of view.

In Season 4 you can see the cracks in his faith starting to form, especially when he starts taking funds from the group for himself as a just in case. I'm sure they're gonna dive deeper into that and what exactly pushes him to take the money from the Pharisees, but from his interaction with Yussif (i believe?? it was either Yussif or Shmuel i can't remember it was after the scene when the woman i can't remember her name poured the perfume over Jesus's feet) it's seems pretty clear to me that they're setting up the "why" in Judas's future interactions with them. I'll have to watch s5 to give my full thoughts on this though, sorry!

I'll also point out that Judas isn't the only one who thought Jesus was going to bring a more political change to Israel by overthrowing the Romans. Everyone thought that. Remember the scene where all the disciples shared their assumptions of who they thought The Messiah was going to be, and they all pretty much agreed that they expected a military figure. I think the difference between Judas and the other disciples is that the others accepted the Jesus that didn't raise an army of soldiers to wage war on Rome, but instead preached about the Grace of God and the opportunity to have an intimate relationship with Him in a way that hadn't been heard of before (that being with the Tabernacle and other aspects of the Old Covenant). I don't think Judas fully let go of his preconceptions, and that's why he was agitated when things weren't going the way he expected. Why he kept saying that they should be doing more and capitalizing on Jesus's impact on others.

Overall, I do agree that Judas's story is extremely dark and I can understand the team pushing through it, but we also have to remember the ENTIRETY of season 6 is gonna be dark and dreary and everyone's gonna bawl their eyes out because it's jonathan roumie and the crew and we all know that they're gonna absolutely destroy us with their portrayals of Jesus and the disciples during the crucifixion, so I can't really for sure predict what they're gonna include or not. What I can say is that it seems pretty clear they they prioritize quality over anything else, so I think they'll finish The Chosen's seasons 6 & 7 up with some awesome storytelling :3

and yeah that theme totally has feel good comedy show vibes lol. i also get some mysterious like important mission drama show vibes too idk how to describe it i just jam lmao--

[gerbiloftriumph]

Floating Castle Liveblog (second read)

Turns out I just can't stay away from this book, or stop myself from doing live updates on Goodreads, probably to the irritation of my followers there and to the chagrin of the website itself, which is now overwriting old updates with newer ones, thus, my need to post them all here. For posterity.

And because I love Telgrin just that much.

March 17, 2019 –

page 0

I feel a sad reading funk coming on and the only way I can think to save it is with my boi, the greatest sassy villain ever, Telgrin. Awww yiss (I don't feel the mood for Princess Bride for once, so next step down it is). Feel free to follow along as I keysmash glee about this doofy lame villain and his impractical floating castle (usingthekqreddit's.pdfshackcoughahhhhkkk you didn't hear that from me.)

page 3

It just cracks me up to see a literal castle sailing by in the storm. Alex can pretend all he likes that it’s just a cloud formation—it’s still dang wacky and impractical.

page 8

Graham: Did you see anything weird out there? Alexander: Well, I mean. A literal floating castle, probably? Graham: Yes, that sounds sensible. Carry on. I’m grinning like a fool and I’m not even ten pages in. This book is my flavor of perfect delight, glossy purple prose and all.

page 11

The fact that Telgrin's castle is in a perpetual thundercloud? He's the sort of dude who would, in a modern au, just listen to the rainymood app constantly. I feel it deeeeeeep in my soul. The anticipation of the plot points has me positively grinning and I keep telling myself, "No, slow down and enjoy. The kelpie and troll and frog and tree wizard and all aren't going anywhere. It's okay."

page 14

I want to scoop Graham up in a big hug. He seems like a great person, such a strong king. Showing nothing but peace and respect to everyone, regardless of social status, who comes in talking about that Spooky Castle, and he's completely chill *until* he's alone with Alexander and can finally drop that mask and honestly show his fear. Even if you're unfamiliar with the source material, this is good character detail.

page 17

"A strange castle has intruded upon the peace of Daventry. I think it fair to assume that only a powerful magic could have transported it here." No, Graham, flying castles are perfectly normal things. Like birds. (here comes telgrin the sassmaster i'm so exciiiitedddd)

page 18

"While Graham occupied the throne, what misfortune could long hold sway over Daventry? What evil could prevail?" cough foreshadowing cough cough hack wheeze

page 19

I still believe with my whole heart that this bearded and blustery and large Sir Brian is a reference to Brian Blessed and I don't care what anyone else thinks.

page 21

Heeeeeeere's Telgrin! Struttin' in, debris from the door all in a cloud, swinging that stupid crystal staff in step with his walk, and freaking "pleased by the dumbfounded reaction his appearance had caused." My melodramatic diva. Let's do thiiiiis.

page 22

Graham, furious, demands to know why Telgrin's here. Telgrin flings back his head and cackles: "'Who am I? Why, I am your new neighbor! Have you not seen my castle there in the distance?' The man paused. He seemed to expect Graham to say something then, but the king simply stared at him. This seemed to unnerve the stranger somewhat" because how do you banter in silence? You can't be the sassmaster if no one plays! :3

page 23

Telgrin wouldn't come to the castle to announce himself as Ye Olde Villain until Graham had summoned a full contingent of knights. Telgrin, Sassmaster and Diva, requires a proper audience before strutting around. <3

page 23

"Do you seriously believe that simply declaring yourself king will make you king in truth?" "*Believe* it? I know it. It is a fact. Who can dispute it?" Graham rose slowly from his throne, straightened to his full height. Unblinking, his gaze was fixed upon Telgrin. "*I* can." "You dare defy me?" "I do." A twisted smile tugged briefly at the corners of Telgrin's mouth. "Good. I was rather hoping you would." Sassy.

page 25

Telgrin is so blissed out on his own sassy triumph that we could SO EASILY dropkick him and snap that stupid crystal staff in half and we'd win and the book would be over in a mere 30 pages. I swear, he's not watching his back at all. Alexander, take him out at the knees! ...or, don't. That's fine. We contracted a full novel from Sierra. I get it.

page 32

I want a Valanice book. I want this series to be a quartet instead of a trilogy. I want this so deep in my soul.

page 32

TREE WIZARD. I can't stop grinning; I love tree wizard. He's trying to nod and shrug and he doesn't have shoulders so he can't, because he's a TREE.

page 40

"Telgrin is a stealer of souls." "A stealer of souls? What's that?" Alexander, the name is on the tin. It isn't hard to figure out.

page 41

I know I should stop updating every few pages. I'm spoiling things and probably being annoying but it's been a long weekend and this is Exactly my flavor of comedy: tree wizard is offering Cyril to Alex, since he "'does all those things that I can no longer do for myself. And he is very good at keeping the woodpeckers away.' This did not sound like the sort of help that Alexander was looking for." Be polite, Alex. :3

page 45

Of all the things I remember from reading this book a year ago, Tree Wizard and his Tea is one of my top favorite mental images. Doesn't matter that we're slowly turning into a tree. Tea time is very important and we will Not miss it. There's even fanart of Tree Wizard and his tea on Tumblr, that's how important it is.

page 45

Alexander (paraphrased): "Sooo...do you know how to stop being a tree?" Morowyn: "Oh, yeah, totes figured that out. Could do it whenever I wanted. Kinda has a drawback, though." Alexander: "Yeah? What's that?" Morowyn: "I would immediately die." Alexander: "......yep, that's a drawback."

March 19, 2019

page 57

“Do you know where to look for a soul? Have you ever seen one?” One would assume it’s glowy and vaguely Graham-shaped.

page 64

I can not believe I forgot about this Literal Ringwraith character. It’s...just a Ringwraith. Pure and simple and obvious.

page 74

I did remember the Literal Lembas Bread, though. Fantasy tropes! *jazz hands*

page 78

One of the classic fantasy tropes is doing a long walk from point a to point b. I’ve got to give Mills credit: I don’t think I’ve read any other book that fills its protagonists up with magic bread that induces energetic power-walking before.

page 80

I remember being annoyed by this conversation the first time, but that was before I realized I held a Masterpiece of High Literature in my hands: “Good apple,” Cyril said. “Very good.” “Sweet.” “Mmm.”

page 87

“A rope, some apples,” Cyril said, frowning. “I still don’t see what you’re planning.” It’s called A Sierra Solution, Cyril, and they only make sense half the time, because this game series is haaaaard.

page 90

Kelpie rodeo. In what sensible fantasy novel would this be allowed? None, man. I love this book. [gerbil note: this scene also has fanart, because this book is amazing]

March 19, 2019

page 97

Alexander: Ho there! Sir Ogre! Ogre: /what did you call me/?! At least, that’s how it should go.

[gerbil note again: i did totally steal this very lame joke for captive crown later on and i'm not even sorry about it]

page 100

I didn’t quite realize how dorky this was the first time, but now I’m paying attention I’ve realized: Telgrin has exactly One lone storm cloud that occasionally spits out a lightning bolt, just hovering over the tower. In my head, this looks like a Winnie the Pooh cloud. Is that all the magic he could summon? One tiny cloud? Lame, and yet So On Brand for my sassmaster.

page 107

We've now entered the Road to El Dorado sequence of the book and I'm perfectly content. Barrel scene eheheheheeeee

page 112

Once again, the book stresses, it is but *one* cloud. One very black and lightning filled cloud, but a single cloud, nevertheless, providing all the ambient noise and mood. I find this bizarrely hilarious. It feels like Telgrin's equivalent of keeping his phone on low battery mode so he can keep using the Rainymood app.

page 120

The sassmaster's lair is just the most Extra thing. It's like he read a book on what villains are supposed to do, so he did it. He's got it all: high ceilings that vanish to dark, ludicrous amounts of moldering velvet curtains, "hideously ornate" braziers, and a perfectly silly black throne. Telgrin, pleaaase this is so unnecessary and not remotely sensible. You've copied someone else's homework, and badly. ilu.

page 121

And Alexander refuses to play the game. Telgrin has all these expectations on how this conversation is meant to go, he's basically reciting a script, and Alexander's just like, "Uhhhh....what?" So Telgrin moves on to Cyril, like Cyril will play along properly. I just can't. I love Telgrin to unfeasible levels of nonsense.

page 122

(Incidentally, I'm still kinda salty that Graham's soul isn't in the throne room, wedged in Telgrin's overly-flashy staff. It just feels more right than where he *actually* is.)

page 123

"You are an evil man." "So it has been said." Telgrin shrugged. "Personally I've always found that such abstractions do not apply well to life in the real world. They make matters that are by their very nature complex seem rather too simple, don't you think?" "Evil," Alexander repeated. Telgrin sighed. "I can see that you're really not up to a probing and dispassionate philosophical discussion" Modern AU: he's a Bro

page 125

I'm fairly certain this reference to Alexander having a hard time with stairs is a reference to the older KQ games in which if you misstep, you're going down, and if you're more than a few feet up, you're a dead man and you've got to reload a save. :)

March 21, 2019

page 129

Out of curiosity, I googled a Barikar to see if this was a real fantasy creature, but the only actual result is from the King's Quest Fanwiki to tell me that, yes, Telgrin owns a Barikar. ....nice, I guess.

page 130

By all technical and decent writing standards, this book is probably awful. Er. I mean, awfully great. High literature, deffo. But it *feels* like a King's Quest game. Every new place is described with just enough detail that you can so easily picture it in those stark, retro early gaming colors, or that pixel painting KQ5 style. I super love it.

page 131

The King's Quest fanwiki tells me that Telgrin owns the only Barikar in all of the entire canon of all fantasy, but it doesn't tell me if Telgrin *loves* his Barikar. I hope he does, because no one else possibly could. What a hideous beastie.

page 134

You boys should be ashamed of yourselves, disposing of a barikar. There was only one in ALL of fantasy EVER and now there's none.

page 139

I hate how funny I think it is that Alexander isn't even pulled together enough to answer his own mental questions. "Yes" is not always the correct answer, sir.

page 143

sassmaster diva telgrin's tragic childhood backstory-----OH WAIT NO IT'S NOT TRAGIC HE'S JUST ALWAYS BEEN A PUNK. I love him.

March 27, 2019

page 143

I wonder what Telgrin’s first thought was when he, A Pathetic Scullery Boy (tm) chopped Owen’s head off, presumably with a Vaguely Magical movement because clean-one-chop head removal is hard even with the help of gravity, man, and Owen’s head just started swearing at him from the floor. Like. That’s a dang weird mental image.

page 144

He holds his own head under his arm like it’s a football and it cracks me up. It’s meant to be serious and scary, probably, but I just love this headless ghost.

page 146

The most over the top baby monitor ever created

page 152

In fairness, this part is one of the most like the game-version would probably be, and it works the least because Alexander is working from information we don’t have. As a gamer we would have heard all Owen’s instructions and had to replicate them perfectly to avoid nasty game overs. As a reader it would have been repetitive for Owen to tell us, then watch Alex act, but there’s a disconnect now.

page 156

“After allowing himself to wallow in depression for a short while”—like, twenty seconds, if that.

page 180

Sinofas (paraphrased): Sooooo.....about that magic flying leap out of the tallest tower. What was that about? Alexander: We had a pressing need to leave the castle. Sinofas: Ever heard of a *door,* sirrah? (do note that I haven't stopped smiling for like twenty pages; this book's greaaat)

page 181

Alexander, paraphrased: So....you're not...friends with Telgrin, are you? Sinofas: He put his Giant Castle in my front yard and won't move it. What do you think??

page 183

I can't believe Mills feels he has to point out that Alexander makes for one Handsome Frog. A "rather large and handsome frog," indeed. Ffff.

page 183

And, I quote, "Did you speak, Sir Frog?" "That's Prince Frog, to you." Alexander, *please* reign in some of your sass. It's not helping matters.

page 198

I feel like the further this book goes, the stronger Alexander's sass gets. It'll never be Telgrin levels of sass because that man is the Sassmaster Diva, but it's dang good.

page 212

Sassmaster Telgrin *still* can't get anyone to dialogue properly with him. Graham's just as obstinate as Alexander and is really good at One Syllable Responses. My gorgeous royal family.

page 223

"At that moment, her second head . . . appeared to wake. It opened its eyes, blinked, and said, "Hmph. What's happening? Where am I?" "It's all right, dear," the first head said. "Go back to sleep. I'm just going to kill this man here." "Oh, that's all right then." I adore this book in ways I cannot express.

page 225

I'm so glad magic in this world, with this staff, works by wishing. So, basically, Telgrin must have said, "I wish King Graham's soul was mine" and so it was, and "I wish I had a fireball to kill Alexander," and bam. It's like he's making little birthday cake wishes, but Horrible Magic happens instead and it's kinda hilariously great. :3

page 230

Telgrin, through a magical hologram because this book is great: "Oi! There you are!" Alexander, exhausted and annoyed: "Whaddya want, Telgrin?" "What do you think? You've stolen my staff. I want it back." "That's too bad. I'm fairly sure that I don't want to give it to you." Now is not the time to start having a holographic fight. Pull back that sass, kiddos.

April 2, 2019

page 231

"The fact that this book is about the same size and heft as my Nintendo Switch tablet with like a pt 14 font, and the fact that it's still taken me into week three to read it, means I'm nice and deep in this reading slump. This should be a six hour read at *maximum*. Telgrin, take me away.

page 236

Alexander, you can't just order princesses to do what you want with magic. that's so rude.

page 237

To be 100% clear, Alexander, Telgrin learned literally everything he knows from Owen, and we can see how Telgrin turned out. One miiiight assume that Owen himself is not the most Noble of nobility.

page 240

"Alexander looked long upon the poor, filthy, shabby, beheaded, half-crazed man" -- I dunno, Alex, I might have led with the Beheaded part. Just sayin', seems the most important part.

page 248

"Alexander thought that it would be inappropriate to express regrets for the incident, since those regrets would not be deeply felt." Alexander, be polite. Don't start snarking with the villain, now.

page 250

"Lydia, Lydia, don't you understand? A man wants to idealize the woman he is to wed. This becomes extremely difficult *when she keeps bloody carping at him.*" Telgrin's breakdown from Eloquent Bro is the best thing ever.

page 260

Since the fight is taking place off screen, it reads most hilariously, with each combatant yelling, "Oh, yeah, that was okay, but what about THIS" followed by just basically a stream of sound effects. It's like reading an anime battle where they would normally shout out their attack names and I'm so into it.

page 266

Can I also add that I find it Entirely Hysterical that this HUGE FLOATING CASTLE is literally pinned into place? With like, a big bobby pin driven into the ground? And that's *it*? This is so impractical on so many levels, Telgrin.

April 3, 2019

page 267

Alexander actually expected Telgrin to win that fight, hah. Good confidence for the Good Team, I guess (Owen's placement on the Good Team being...sketchy, at best, of course).

page 273

See, Graham, Cyril remembers HIS adventuring rope when he goes off on missions. Take notes; it'll help you out in your 2015 voyage.

page 278

Cyril, you stud muffin.

page 283

"How did you find this?" "I got lost." Bab.

April 16, 2019

page 289

Graham Dying bedscenes are like, a favorite staple of this series, innit? And then KQ9 just had to go and take it allllll the way. Hhhh.

page 292

Come on, come on, someone say "a heart is a heavy burden" at Graham. Make this book perfectly complete. No? Okay, fine.

page 293

"I have much to be thankful for. I have escaped the torments that Telgrin thought to inflict on my spirit. I am in my own body again, in my own home, safe and surrounded by family and friends. But what makes me most grateful is that I am able to look upon your face once again, my dear one. For that is everything." Valanice laughed softly, and said, "Rest. You are delirious, I think." My FAVORITE royal couple hhhhhhh.

April 16, 2019 – Finished Reading

Five stars out of five stars. Again.

[violentlilly-blog]

The Price We Pay

I’ve been working on a fan-fiction for this fandom for about… oh, half a year? Roughly. This scene wouldn’t really have an appropriate place in the story I’m working on, since the fan-fiction I’m writing has more to do with Friend, Sweetheart, and Keagan being in high school still, the plot centering around Keagan and Sweetheart’s relationship, the break in Friend and SH’s friendship, and everything involving the break-up between SH and Keagan and the rekindled friendship of Friend and SH. 

Dunno when that’ll be done, but I got this terribly morbid idea and wrote it all out. I didn’t put as much effort into this as I would a full story - I barely edited it, and I wrote it in about thirty minutes, so go easy on me. It’s been a good seventeen years since I’ve published anything, and I'm pretty self-conscious about my work. I hope it's alright.

Side-note; it's a cold open, so there's nothing leading up to this scene. It's just an idea that struck me while I was writing the other fan-fiction, and I wanted to get it down.

TW: Depictions of Graphic Violence, Character Death, Blood, Dark/Morbid Themes

“This parasite… this leech who thinks he has the right… who thinks he’s justified in putting his nose where it doesn’t belong…” Friend’s voice was soft and measured, though there was clear malice punctuating each word as he spoke, his eyes aglow with simmering crimson rage as he glared down at Keagan’s body crumpled below, his hands tightened to trembling fists as he clutched the blade within his right hand. “You think after what you did to her, you deserve to have a say? That you have the right to be here? To be seen by her? To even be in her presence?” 

Coughing, blood splattered in small crimson droplets at my feet as Keagan struggled to rise, the wound to his belly severe, though non-fatal; if he received medical treatment, at least… “You crazy fuck… I knew… I knew…” he wheezed. 

Friend snarled as he knelt down, reaching forward and gripping his hair as he yanked him up onto his knees, facing him away as he yanked his head back, exposing his throat. 

I leaned forward and screamed, “NO! Friend, please!” 

Leaning close, Friend set his mouth next to Keagan’s right ear and whispered, “You knew what, exactly? Hm…?” 

Hacking, Keagan pressed his hands to the wound in his gut in an effort to stem the steady flow of blood leaking from his abdomen, his stained hands trembling. “I knew… you were a fucking… stalker freak… I knew…” Coughing, his haggard breathing halting his words with each laboured breath, he struggled to speak. “I knew she wasn’t safe with you in her life…” 

Friend’s eyes widened as he comprehended these words. “Not safe…?” His grip tightened on Keagan’s scalp, tearing hair from his head and drawing blood, wet red droplets trailing from his hairline onto his forehead. “You have the audacity to tell me what’s safe for her? After what you did?” he bellowed, his body trembling. 

“I was a fucking dumb, drunk kid!” Keagan screamed, tears prickling across the waterline of his eyes, threatening to spill. His bright blue eyes found me, wide and terrified, though equally pleading. “I was a stupid kid…” he grunted, his words strained through the pain he was enduring. “I fucked up… and I lived with the guilt of what I did every fucking day of my life.” His words choked, catching on subtle sobs which threatened to claim him. “I was eaten alive with the guilt, and because of the actions of a stupid fucking kid, I lost everything… I lost you,” he whispered to me, his eyes focused entirely on mine. “And… I’m so fucking sorry… I’m so sorry…” 

My eyes widened with each word he spoke, my heart aching at this admission and my features twisted in disbelief and pain. He had suffered - Keagan had suffered more than enough. Nodding, I attempt to smile through the tears which obscured my vision as they fell, hot and thick, down my cheeks. “I know…” I whispered back to him, drawing Friend’s attention briefly before he focused upon Keagan once more, unperturbed with Keagan’s heartfelt apology. 

“A little late, don’t you think? It only took you a decade and a near-death experience to bring it out of you,” he sneered at him, his tone of voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Ignoring this statement, Keagan struggled to look back at Friend, his desperation bleeding into vehemence as he glared up into the lifeless, deadpanned eyes of his attacker. “But you… what excuse do you have? I was young… dumb… and drunk… I made a mistake… but you… You’re not making a mistake. You’re just fucking crazy-” 

Friend brought the knife he held to Keagan’s throat, silencing him instantly as he sputtered on his words, his eyes growing wide as the blade bit into his neck. “I’m crazy? I’m crazy? You’re the one who was pining after a broken relationship for the past decade, never once trying to move on and better yourself! You let your mistakes consume you, ruin everything you could have had afterward, and I’m the crazy one? Look at you…” His eyes bore right into Keagan, devoid of any empathy or concern. “A sad little boy still yearning for the one that got away… Pathetic.” Tightening his grip on Keagan’s hair, he dug the blade further against his throat. “What did you hope to achieve by coming here, baseball star? Let me guess… You wanted to come in here and rescue my sweetheart. To whisk her away and play the hero to someone who doesn’t need to be rescued in the first place. What? Did you think you could make her love you again?” 

Friend’s words cut through not only Keagan, his eyes growing even wider as he called out each and every secret suppressed deep within Keagan’s heart, but through me as well. To see Friend so callous and cold, a blade held to the throat of my past love… my best friend’s eyes empty as he mocked and verbally berated the one person who genuinely tried to save me… it didn’t feel real. None of this felt real. It felt like a terrible nightmare I desperately wanted to wake from - but I knew the truth. As badly as I wished this to be fantasy, the stale and chilled air of this basement, secreted away deep within the heart of this abandoned city, the metal of the cuffs biting into my wrists, and the pungent, metallic smell of blood flooding my nostrils with each frantic breath I took… I knew this was real. It was all horribly, nonsensically real…

“Did you think you could come in here and take her from me? To steal away the only person who’s ever really cared about me? You think I’d let you do that, you piece of shit!” Friend’s stoicism broke as he screamed in Keagan’s face, his muscles tensing and right then I knew what was coming, what Friend was about to do. 

Keagan grimaced, his body tensing as he reacted, unconsciously preparing to die. 

Without thought, my body moving entirely on its own, I lurched forward and screamed, “I’ll stay with you!” the instant before Friend could slide the blade across Keagan’s throat, causing him to pause as he looked up, his eyes suddenly wide in shock at my interjection. “Please! Please… Friend… you don’t have to kill him. You…” my throat tightened, choking on the sobs which threatened to overtake me, my voice and body trembling violently. Strengthening my resolve, I forced myself to speak, my focus set, unwavering, on Friend. “You could let him go… I promised, didn’t I? Didn’t I promise…? That I’d never leave you again… I promised you that, remember?” 

Faltering briefly, Friend replied, “Of course I remember, sweetheart… How could I ever forget?” His tone of voice and expression had softened as he gazed over at me, remorseful, if only for what this situation was putting me through. 

Nodding, I attempted to crawl forward with difficulty, my knees dragging against the concrete flooring as my bound wrists tugged backward with each desperate inch I crossed, trying to shorten the distance between us in hopes that I could reach him - if not physically, than through a connection only years of love and friendship could convey. “Then you know you can trust me when I say that I’d never leave you…” 

“What the fuck are you doing, Clover!?” Keagan screamed, his expression wild as he realised what I was promising. “You can’t be fucking serious!” 

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Friend hissed, pressing the knife firmly to his throat once more. 

“No! No, no! Friend, listen to me…!” I screamed, desperately attempting to draw his attention onto me once more. For fuck’s sake, Keagan, shut the fuck up… please. “Listen… I’m not going anywhere, okay? So you don’t have to do this…” My eyes burned from the salt of my tears, my throat restricted and raw from the tension in my muscles as my entire body strained against my binds and the fear which raged within me. “You can let Keagan go, and I’ll stay. I’ll never leave you… okay? You trust me, don’t you?” I smiled at him, pleading with all of my heart. “You trust me?” 

Relaxing, Keagan finally grasped what I was attempting to do. If I was able to convince Friend to let him go, his wounds would be more than enough evidence to push the police to investigate this area. Certainly, by the time Keagan would arrive back here with the police, Friend and I may be long gone… but my sole priority in this moment was to get Keagan out alive. That’s all that mattered to me. Please, God… Please… 

“You trust me… don’t you?” I repeated, stressing the word trust. 

Once more, Friend turned his tender eyes unto me, his expression gentle as he smiled. “Oh, sweetheart… of course I trust you…” 

I relaxed, breathing a deep sigh of relief as I quickly contemplated what else I could say to reach him and secure Keagan’s release. 

“It’s him I don’t trust…” 

And just like that, in an instant - before I could even blink or register what he’d said - the blade was swiftly drawn across Keagan’s throat, sending a cascade of thick crimson spraying from his neck. 

Keagan’s eyes, wide with fear and disbelief, were focused upon me as the colour nearly instantly drained from his face. Convulsing, his body immediately going into shock, he slumped forward onto his stomach, his eyes rolling back as his blood pressure dropped, blacking out upon hitting the stone floor. 

I don’t know how long it had taken Keagan to fall to the floor. Some distant logical part of my brain reasoned it must have been only seconds; but it felt like an eternity, the world around me slowing nearly to a halt as Friend released Keagan’s hair and let him fall. 

I didn’t even register the screams which pierced the crushing silence…

[rainsoughtflowers]

i promised you the moon (may the stars remember us) -> 1k follower event !

‘it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the persisting emotion squeezing the heart. several attempts had been made, however all proved to be futile at the sight of blood accompanying the first cough. a bitter laugh, or perhaps a few stray tears, became apparent knowing the root of the upcoming disease. the lines and dips along the expanse of their expression, the chime of their laugh and the gentle brush of skin bare against the other. and yet, how did one witness the stars, and become infatuated with the lovely being, only for them to form the petals nurturing in the lungs?’

characters !

genshin impact (kazuha, venti, aether, xiao, thoma, albedo, scaramouche)

squid game (sae-byeok)

assassination classroom (karma akabane)

seraph of the end (mikaela hyakuya)

sweet home (eun-hyuk)

demon slayer (giyuu, muichirou, tanjirou)

genres !

hurt/comfort

angst

fluff

prompts !

pear blossom -> a series of words uttered under shooting stars, promising a lifetime worth of companionship. oh how the syllables seemed trapped on the tongue, knowing that not all dreams could come true.

aconite -> intolerable. aggravating. any word along those lines could be used to describe the other. it wasn’t until one realizes that the blood on their hands belongs not to themself, but the person who suddenly stopped their quarreling fights, that not all words had been used.

blue salvia -> a shaky breath, the first one since the flowers had been nurtured to full bloom. and yet one could have no regrets, even as the thorns continued to prick and the petals began to wilt.

forget me not -> soulmates, bound by fate and created by the universe itself. perhaps a mistake, a flaw in the system, could be found amongst the blood stained hands.

daffodil -> a single one, graced by fingertips that shake with the sobs racking their body. it’s quickly followed by the scene of one hacking into their hands, despising the image of their lover with another.

red carnation -> clocks ticking, running out of time. they can practically hear death knocking at their door, beginning to pray for just a moment longer.

red tulips -> the aches that come from wishful thinking, and the longing for something more than what had been given. perhaps just a few words would be enough to change the course of what fate has brought upon them.

purple hyacinth -> the world in which used to be viewed through a kaleidoscope dimmed, faded in the vision one utilized to see. what brought upon it? the wheezing breaths leaving through cracked lips, or the undeniable fact that the reciprocated feelings from their lover was no more?

anemone -> it was as if a cruel joke were being played, perhaps even a punishment for confessions far too late. what could one do to mend the blood splattered petals when the solution had far passed the barrier between life and death?

pink camellia -> the definition of pining and cluelessness frustrating beyond belief, along with weeks flowing into months of decaying corpses blind to the other’s own suffering.

example !

kazuha + pear blossom + angst

thank you all for 1k+ followers! it means the world to me that i’ve been gifted so much support, and i appreciate each and every one of you. please enjoy this event, and i hope to see lots of participation. only 15 spots are available, and each prompt will be a short drabble pertaining to that character. in your request, please specify which character has hanahaki.

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Vision x Female Reader

Word Count: 800

Summary: Driving home after an evening away from your wife doesn’t go quite as planned. But Wanda’s prepared for anything.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Modern AU, Established Relationship/Polyamory (they refer to each other as husband/wife though a marriage wouldn’t technically be legal), Pet Names (little cabbage, my love, etc.), Car Crash, Major Character Death, Body Horror (mild), Witchcraft/Magic, Necromancy/Undead Characters, Vomit. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: An entry for The 8K Spooky Challenge from @syntheticavenger. Congrats on 8K!!! I was so inspired by the challenge of writing under 800 words and the movie All Cheerleaders Die (which I haven’t actually watched in ages but really loved) that I wrote up the first draft immediately in two hours after the challenge was posted. Editing took a bit longer, but this is the result. 😊

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account.

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Enjoy!

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or unwilling to read/consume dark (ish) content, thank you!

“I told you, honey, we’re on our way.”

You glance over at Vis, his eyes watching the road, but a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips. Turning in your seat, you snuggle into the plush leather and bite back a yawn.

“I know, my love, but I have this feeling. Devil’s Night is in full swing. The spirits are restless,” Wanda replies, her quiet voice crackling as the connection cuts out for a moment. “Where are you?”

“We passed the Westview town line approximately 4½ miles ago,” Vis responds.

A smile quirks the corners of your lips at his proclamation. You wouldn’t be surprised if his answer were more accurate than approximate.

“I can see the bridge lights just up ahead,” you add, squinting into the darkness.

Vis’ hands remain positioned at the appropriate places on the wheel, but he glances in your direction—just for a moment. And that brief look warms your heart, knowing he’s checking in on you in his own way.

“But you are driving safely.” Wanda’s voice strains, cracks.

Your brow furrows at her tone. A nervous pit forms in your stomach, anxious and gaping. Your heart clenches, wishing you could gather her into your arms and hold her.

“You know our husband,” you reply, fingers playing with the edges of the seatbelt. “No safer driver.”

Wanda’s reluctant hum buzzes over the line.

Vis grasps the steering wheel until it creaks and his brows drop low over his eyes. Restless tension boils in the confined space of the car—heavy, daunting.

The car dips and bumps as it drives across the bridge—not six miles from the edge of town, infrequently used but the quickest route home. The river rushes below, overflowing from the past week’s torrential rain. Your eyes slide to the window, the moon’s reflection rippling on raging currents.

“The moon is full tonight, little cabbage,” Vis intones, his voice soft and soothing, empirical in a way Wanda and you always appreciate—even as his shoulders raise a fraction of an inch, body rigid in the drivers’ seat. “We’ve made very good time and there’s no one else on the road.”

Your lips press together, swallowing down tingling anxiety and panic. You breathe deeply, lungs filling with air in a bid to calm yourself.

“We’ll see you in no more than fifteen minu—”

A horn blares. The night goes black and wet.

Your breath rips from your chest like claws gnashing at your lungs. You gulp in—heavy, painful, chest-heaving. A coughing fit seizes you, hacking up muck and spewing bile, body curling on its side.

A gasp and cough echoes behind you, familiar and unsettling.

“Vis,” you wheeze, flopping on your back.

The moon shines down, a red glow swirling in the air as you rise to rest on your forearms.

“Vis!” you croak, voice forceful though still raw.

Your eyes search, needing to see him.

He lays on his back, body still but mouth gaping and eyes staring up at the sky. His head turns, hand reaching to grasp your own. With a ragged breath, his head tips back and you follow his gaze, finding the illuminated source.

Wanda kneels in the mud, her eyes closed and lips reciting indecipherable incantations. She radiates scarlet light, unheeding as you desperately cry her name.

Confused and scared, your eyes sting with tears and a deep burning ravages your chest. You reach to massage away the fire, but fumble over a smooth, hard anomaly.

An orange, faceted stone sits in your sternum—embedded in your skin.

The blood drains from your face replaced by buzzing panic. You don’t even notice as the red light recedes and disappears.

“You’re alive.”

Wanda’s voice breaks through your quiet horror, your eyes flashing to Vis. He’s sitting now, fingers rubbing over his forehead as if to dispel a headache—but you see the yellow stone beneath his fingers and his alarmed expression.

“It worked.”

Your eyes snap toward your wife. Relieved tears welling in her eyes, she crawls closer. Her arms wrap around you both and draw you into her embrace. Her warmth calls to you and you’re unable to resist. One look at Vis and you know he’s the same.

Her heartbeat thunders in your ears—thumping, pulsing, pounding. The burning pain migrates, no longer searing your chest but sinking to your belly. It transforms, a ravenous hunger consuming you from the inside. A craving, a thirst for warmth.

You swallow and taste sour fear on your tongue.

“Wanda, what have you done?” Vis asks, his eyes wide as he looks at his wife.

Wanda hushes him with a peck to his lips and a kiss to your temple. “It’s okay,” she promises, voice soft and spine-chilling, “I’ll get you anything you need.”

[thornquillthefiendish]

Because I can’t really art for the anniversary (which I already missed oops), here’s an old ass little ficlet for sandfire in 2020, warning for character death as this takes place like right as Firestar is dying. This is also me revealing my love for sandfire/firesand and how I feel like it’s potential is wasted in series they could’ve been so good. This fic was also heavily based on the oh hello’s dawn.

(Side note; I still kinda like this but I hate the dialogue so mixed feelings on this, so I guess warning for cringe or some shit idk)

He gasped for air, swallowing like fish stranded on the river shoreline, looking for home, but not finding it. His gaze blurred at the sight of light or shadow, and in his heart he knew. He knew it was coming; the end of nine grand lives. His skin was hypersensitive now - he could feel the grass move against his side, cradling him. The warm embrace of a mother he barely remembered, one he longed for for most of his youth. It split his heart in two, but mended that wound almost instantly. He had three great mothers. Three mothers who did not pass him through their wombs, but loved him. He cherished those fleeting memories, those kind faces lost to starlight, but as his breathing became more labor inducing he reminded himself he’d find their moonlit faces again when his paws finally touched the sky.

These thoughts came to a screeching halt when her voice echoed through his ears, and amongst the light and shadows he saw her.

She was as perfect as the day he met her. Her sandy, sunshine filled pelt shimmered like light on water, her eyes were lily pads. Her body was cut from the limb of one of the strongest oaks in the forest, no doubt, she was sturdy in heart and in body. Sandstorm was dawn breaking through deep, dark valleys and pine forests where no light had ever touched. The sight of her alone, it made his heart burst into flame.

“Firestar!” Her voice cried out, it lost the roar that split mountains and made warriors shake, but it broke him, broke him apart. She was at his side, now, shaking, her cheek rubbing against his shoulder, mourning the loss she knew was coming. The sight of her dragged him from the shores of death, but he could feel its waves wrap around his body, slowly bringing him back, closer to the rivers edge.

“No…no tears. You’re the strong one.” His voice was hoarse, it lost any sense of nobility, of strength. He felt like a sick kit, but he was happy she was here. So happy, she was all there was to him. The forest around them seemed to fade. The others too. Nothing, but him and the dawn herself.

“No - no, I’ve lost too much, you won’t leave me!” She rested her paw on his belly, and he could feel how tense she was through that alone. How the muscles in her face poked through skin and fur, straining, painful.

“Love…love, you have not l-lost…lost everything yet…” for a moment, his mind numbed as waves engulfed him, but again, he was able to poke his nose up above deaths waters. “Our kits…their kits…our c…Clan. They need your heart. Your strong heart…you will heal. You are strong.” It took him what felt like five long gone lives to rest a shaking, frail paw onto her neck.

“I’m not…I won’t be strong without you.” That earned her a chuckle, her saddened gaze narrowing at him in an instant, that familiar little thing about her that always got to his frail little heart.

“Without me…? Without-“ that chuckle earned him a coughing fit. His body coiled in pain, and the golden she-cat drew closer, shaken by the sudden hacking and wheezing. She lowers her body, the eyes he fell in love with staring into his own. She’s worried, and all because of him. How could he?

“You are the strongest…the strongest cat I’ve ever met. You never needed me…I needed you.” His mind grew hazy now, and she was blurred, but her eyes remained his light, his final gaze of what looked to be home - They were his home.

She gave out a shaky sigh, pressing her forehead against his, and he could feel her shake. “You will surely be the death of me, my Fireheart.”

A smile tugs at the sides of his mouth, and the lights dim, as if the sun has been taken from the sky, but, her eyes. Her eyes never vanish. He can feel the river take him, but the river can’t take the forest fire in his heart - no. That fire belonged to Sandstorm, and not even death would take it from her.

[conanaintslick]

20 + Heiji and Schinichi

Title: Only Partially Unhinged

Words: 1203

Fandom: DCMK

Characters/Pairing: HeiShin

Rating: T

Tags: Canon divergence, this probably happens in one of the movies I don't know ok, action but it's written badly, a little fluff, as a treat

Summary: Heiji and Shinichi are trapped, but Shinichi has a plan.

Author’s note: This wasn't supposed to be a HeiShin fic when I started but it turned into a HeiShin fic by the time it was over. Also, I know Shinichi is OOC, and what about it. It's my emotional support ship, your honor.

__________________________________________________________

“This is, without a doubt, the stupidest plan you’ve ever come up with… I’m in.” Heiji gave Shinichi a thumbs up as he grabbed his helmet and threw his leg over his bike. “Well, what are you waiting for? Hop on!” Heiji thrust out a spare helmet, undoubtedly grinning. His brown skin was covered in soot, and Shinichi could see how the other boy struggled for breath.

Shinichi snatched the helmet from Heiji and slipped it on. He saw the soot on his own hands but did his best to ignore it. He couldn’t panic. Not yet. “I’ve definitely thought of stupider plans. But without them, we’d probably be dead by now.”

An explosion rocked the parking garage they were in, and a chunk of concrete slammed into the floor next to them. Shinichi jumped onto the bike and wrapped his arms around Heiji without thinking too much about it. “You better get going! This place is coming down fast.”

“You sure about this, Kudo?” Heiji revved the engine, his foot planted firmly on the ground.

“I’m sure I don’t want to die on this particular evening.”

Another explosion.

Fire poured out from the floor below them, climbing the walls. It was only a small jump to the roof of the building next to them. A little horsepower and they could make it to the other side of this.

Hopefully.

Heiji leaned forward, gearing up. They had to time this just right, or neither of them were going to make it out of this. “Alright. Fair point.”

A countdown ticked in Shinichi’s brain.

Five.

The parking garage trembled and cracked.

Four.

The concrete behind them caved in, crumbling down to the floors below.

Three.

Another explosion shook the building, almost knocking them off the bike. They held fast.

Two.

The fire was getting closer--hotter. Shinichi could feel the sweat coating his skin, dripping down his forehead.

“Now!” Shinichi yelled, and the bike lurched forward, speeding towards the opening at the side of the garage. No, they weren’t getting enough speed. At this rate the bike would plummet to the street below, taking both Heiji and Shinichi with it. Shinichi’s grip around Heiji tightened, and his heart pounded in his ears. He could feel his body trembling.

They weren't going to make it.

They weren’t going to make it.

“Damn it!” Shinichi yelled. He could do nothing but close his eyes. The bike picked up speed, aiming right for the spot where the explosions has eaten away at the concrete walls. One shot. That was all they had.

One shot.

And suddenly, they were weightless. Shinichi felt the air tickle his ankles. His heart beat against Heiji’s back.

Thump.

He opened his eyes long enough to see the sky.

Thump.

Heiji yelled something, or perhaps it was nothing, but Shinichi couldn’t make it out. He squeezed the other boy harder, closing his eyes once again.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Crash!

The tires screamed as the bike made contact with the edge of the roof, and they bounced. Once. Twice. Three times. The brakes screeched with effort. Suddenly, they were turning. Their bodies leaned together as one, but it was too much. The bike slipped.

And they fell.

Shinichi crashed against the concrete and tumbled to the edge of the roof. Thankfully, there was a ledge, so he didn’t go over, but he did feel the skin on his arms tear and scratch at the hard ground. He wheezed as he struggled to refill his lungs with air--when had the wind gotten knocked out of him? Was it when they fell? He coughed and hacked as he struggled to his feet. “Hattori?” His voice was cracked and gruff as he looked around for his best friend.

Heiji was on the other side of the building, in a heap on the ground. He wasn’t moving.

“Hattori!” Strength rushed back to Shinichi as he ran for Heiji, his legs a little wobbly but otherwise ok. He didn’t have time to inspect his own wounds, he had to see if Heiji was ok.

He turned Heiji over carefully, his heartbreaking when he saw blood. He was hurt--his left elbow, his right hand, both his knees… and that was just what Shinichi could see. He ripped the helmet off Heiji’s head.

Heiji was out cold.

“Hattori! Hey, Hattori!” Shinichi called out, but he received no answer. He laid Heiji down on the concrete roof and gently shook, calling his name over and over. Nothing.

Panic rose in Shinichi’s throat, blocking his airways. His hands trembled. And he wanted nothing more in the world than to see Heiji’s deep blue eyes. “Please… Please wake up… Heiji!” His voice carried over the rooftops. Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto Heiji’s face.

Nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, a weight falling over his body. He squeezed Heiji’s shoulders, leaning over the other boy’s chest as he cried. Damn it… Damn it! He should have known better… He should have known this would happen.

“Did… did you just call me Heiji?” A gruff, weak voice drifted into Shinichi’s ears.

Shinichi gasped and raised his head, his eyes meeting Heiji’s. “Hattori!”

Heiji coughed. “Awe, that’s no fair. You finally call me by my name and I’m half unconscious.” The corner of his mouth twitched, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Stupid! I thought…”

“Hey, you cant get rid of me that easy, Shinichi.” Heiji winked, and Shinichi just about melted. He shoved Heiji gently, trying to hide the blush that was certainly forming on his cheeks.

“Shut up… Heiji.” He mumbled that last part.

“What was that?” Heiji cupped his ear, pretending he didn’t hear.

“I said shut up, moron!”

“Mm hm, I’m sure you did. Now help me up.” Heiji held out his hands.

Shinichi rolled his eyes and grabbed Heiji’s hands, and they both struggled to their feet. Their gazes met, and their touch lingered just a little bit too long. Shinichi opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat. Their faces drew closer like some magnetic force was pushing them together. And the rest of the world faded away.

Heiji was the first one to break eye contact. Suddenly, he wrenched away from Shinichi. “Shit! My bike!” He ran over to where his bike was on the other side of the roof, completely totaled. Heiji ran his fingers through his hair. “My dad is SO going to kill me!”

Shinichi didn’t know why, but laughter bubbled in his chest and erupted from him.

Heiji turned. “Why are you laughing? We barely survived the bombing AND we ruined my bike!”

Shinichi walked up to Heiji and planted a kiss on the other boy’s lips. It was so simple. So quick. But it has been brewing between them all along. “I’ll buy you a new one then. Come on. The others are probably looking for us.”

Heiji was stunned into silence, freezing where he stood. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a garbled mess. Shinichi chuckled in response, taking Heiji’s uninjured hand in his and dragging him off the roof.

Yeah. It really was better doing things together.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Hi! As much as I love the newest chapter of Drowning, I meant to say would you consider rewriting the second chapter, where hero does CPR on Supervillain, then finds him in the alley, from Supervillain's perspective? I just love the angst and vulnerability in that chapter!

Thank you!!!

Ah okay. I apologize for misreading that.

I usually don't rewrite chapters. I have someone who is constantly asking me to redo a piece because they didn't like the personality I gave the characters. Like I've been asked over three times. I did give them character development, but the person still can't seem to understand that.

But, I think that this will be a great addition to the storyline. However, I have to say if you haven't noticed, I've been having a tough time writing things of good quality recently. But, if I take a break, I will loose my motivation 100%. So I apologize if this doesn't have the same goodness as the original Part 2 (here).

So without further procrastination, here it is!

Drowning Part 2B

@shydragonrider @sunflower1000 @asrasmysoulmate

Drowning Masterlist

Warnings: fever, delirium, hallucinations, altered state of consciousness, losing consciousness, inability to breathe, monster (hallucination)

~

Breathe.

A simple task, nothing that hard at all.

In the beginnings of consciousness, Supervillain's lungs screamed at him to exhale, to push this foreign mass of warm air out of his body. But his brain, still too slow, forbad such actions.

Breathe.

The base instinct was getting overwhelming, especially as awareness once again returned with the newfound oxygen. Tentatively, and through a thick haze of fog, Supervillain opened his mouth and coughed.

He vaguely felt something liquidy draining down his chin as his lungs and diaphragm shoved the air out. He gasped for more, bodily functions now working and greedy, coughing and grunting ferociously.

Air, he needed air.

Supervillain cracked his eyes open, drawing in all the precious, cool oxygen he could muster. Exhale. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

He was making himself dizzy with the sporadic, fast paced breathing. He looked over at the owner of the looming shadow and startled. It was Hero.

Gasping weakly he looked at her. Her hair was still wet, drenching her shirt. Supervillain gulped, circling his fingers into the concrete floor. His eyes flickered to another living- hopefully?- figure collapsed nearby, on the ground and unmoving. Blood gushed from his head in a flow from a very nasty cut and bruise.

With a feeling of nausea in his gut, Supervillain pushed his shaking form off the ground and bounded away.

He ran like a gazelle, never stopping or looking behind his shoulder, until he found an empty, dark alleyway. He limped over to a flattened cardboard box and fell onto it in a very non-elegant manner.

He gasped for breath, ignoring the painful tug in his chest. He still couldn't breathe. Or, he could to an extent, but deep breaths weren't a possibility. It didn't help that he had a nasty sniffle before- Supervillain shuddered- his near death experience.

Maybe it was still the fog in his brain from being without oxygen to long or pure adrenaline, but either way for some reason, the exhausted supervillain couldn't make sense of the situation. Hero saved him, why? Villain was hurt, much more hurt than he had left him, why?

Eventually, the monotonous train of these thoughts lulled Supervillain into an uneasy slumber. Every few minutes, or seconds, or hours, Supervillain would wake from his restless doze with either a snorting breath or a loud gasp. It burned his chest, making his tender ribs erupt in more flames.

Finally, after what seemed like days, morning came around. Supervillain curled himself behind a dumpster, coughing. If someone saw him, he wouldn't be able to fight back in this state.

The dreadful feeling of vulnerability set a stone down his throat. Supervillain drew in a sharp breath, immediately hacking up more water and mucus with deep coughs, and then tried to catch his breath. He couldn't, which sent another pang of panic through him. He coughed uncontrollably and watched in horror as they turned to sobs.

Supervillain crunched his legs together. He couldn't breathe, couldn't not cry, and now he was crying. To top that pie, a horrible headache had dawn on him. It made him uncomfortably lightheaded and his vision go double. A strange heat behind his ears also formed, making the exhaustion and fatigue in his shivering body more unbearable.

Supervillain groaned very loudly, and very involuntarily, leaning against the cool metal of the dumpster. It brought so much relief...

Wait, something was wrong.

Maybe in this early stage of delirium, Supervillain's senses were heightened. Something wasn't right, it was quiet.

There were no more footsteps.

Peering out from his hiding place curiously, Supervillain saw a woman standing in the entrance to the alleyway. He jerked backwards, breathing heavily, before an instinctual urge sent him plummeting towards her.

He grabbed her mouth and throat before yanking her backwards. She gasped, but Supervillain ignored it.

"Let me go!" She yelled, hands going towards her gun.

Supervillain tensed, looking at the weapon. She was a threat. She was a...

A mixture of black and white filled Supervillain's vision due to the adrenaline crash and sudden rush of motion. He toppled forwards, into the woman's arms, blindly aiming a sloppy punch.

It never connected. Supervillain blacked out.

He came to rather slowly. Voices and sensations drifted around this pleasant haze. Some were louder, some quieter. In the back of his mind, he wondered if there were more than one voice. They sounded so different.

In the back of his mind, he wondered if there were more than one voice. Different, they sounded different. Were there more than one? Or two? Or three? Or four?

Supervillain curled into himself, allowing the distant darkness to come closer. His thoughts were just repeating, mind not really set to comprehend at the moment.

Instead, in this semi-conscious state, Supervillain started to focus on the cool feeling on his forehead. It felt so good.

Some of the cool dripped into his fluttering eyelids. He cracked them open, grunting against the bright light over him, and stared outwards.

It was a tunnel, with a figure at the end.

Making sense of the figure wasn't currently up Supervillain's alley. It was large with multiple eyes, pink and green. Or was it brown and red? Supervillain blinked. No, now it was different. It was a blob.

He let out a distressed whine and tucked his chin to his chest. His heart beat frantically against his chest and through his veins. Every inch of his being could hear and feel it.

Just like he could feel everything.

It was so overwhelming. All the touches, all the sounds. All he wanted to do was shut down and sleep, but this sensory overload wouldn't permit that.

"Hey."

A voice. Supervillain strained to connect with it, to lean into the only human contact he currently had. But he started to cough.

Lung and stomach contents left his mouth like a mudslide. Red, clear, thick... all of it.

It made him scream. He screamed. He was so scared, so overwhelmed, so sick.

Then, the energy boost faltered, leaving him heaving and wheezing, consciousness flickering. He was tired, just wanted sleep.

Flesh touched his forehead, then the voice came again, but Supervillain couldn't decipher it. Something pricked at his lips. He pursed them, still crying silently, but the prick wouldn't let up. He parted them, allowing the pinching metal to nestle underneath his tongue.

It beeped, echoing in Supervillain's ears.

It wouldn't stop beeping, even as consciousness was stolen once again from him.

It was only when he opened his eyes to a familiar face over him that it stopped. The wrinkles by her eyes, freckles, gray eyes.

"Mother?" Supervillain croaked, smiling softly.

His mother, his mother was here to help.

[sickficsforthesoul]

I’ve got a nice little prompt for you! (Actually two but I’ll put them in two separate asks).

This one is a character who may be out of your comfort zone but how about a sick Kuroo who has been sick for a while with what he thinks is something pretty mild so he takes a few days off but even though he’s not getting better he feels guilty about missing so much practice since he’s captain.

But then things go downhill and he gets a lot worse really fast.

Excited to see the things that come out of this blog!!

-Lu

Here's a surprise fic for you. I'm moving into my college dorm Sunday, so I'm writing as much as I can before then to make up for that and not posting much this week.

I hope I did Kuroo justice in this, so enjoy!

Captain Cat's Conundrum

Sick Kuroo and caretakers Kai and Yaku with a bit of Kenma for good measure

Word count: 2185 words

Tetsurou had a cold. He was curled up under heavy blankets in his bed, coughing, shivering, and aching for the past three days. Tetsurou had already missed the past three days of school and practice because his mother insisted that he rest and recover at home. Tetsurou knew she was right, and he also knew that going to school would spread his germs to other students. Still, he couldn’t help but feel guilty over missing so much practice. Yaku and Kai had brought his schoolwork along with updating him on the team’s progress, but Tetsurou wasn’t satisfied. He was the team captain! He should be at practice with his team, not sitting in bed with a little cold.

So Tetsurou had snuck out the next morning, creeping out of the house with his school supplies and volleyball bag before his mother came to check on him. His mother would kill him when he got home, but Tetsurou would deal with that later. Tetsurou jogged to school to avoid being late for morning practice. He stopped at the gym doors to catch his breath, coughing lightly to clear mucus from his throat. Once his throat was cleared, Tetsurou entered the gym with his usual grin.

“Hey guys,” Tetsurou called to his teammates.

“Kuroo!” Lev and Shibayama shouted happily.

“Took you long enough, Roosterhead,” Yaku teased while walking over to Tetsurou. “Any longer, and I was going to make myself captain instead.”

“Liberoes can’t be captains, Yaku,” Kai chided from the bench. “How are you, Kuroo? Are you feeling better?”

“Definitely,” Tetsurou grinned, “my mom was just overreacting. You know how she is.”

“That’s true,” Kenma said quietly from behind Tetsurou.

“Gah!” Tetsurou jumped at his best friend’s sudden appearance. “Don’t do that to me, Kenma,” Tetsurou coughed. “I’m an old man. My heart can only take so much shock, you know!”

“You’re not that old,” Kenma muttered as he pushed past Tetsurou to enter the gym.

Kai looked at Tetsurou with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? That cough didn’t sound good.”

“I’m fine,” Tetsurou reassured his friend. “The cough will go away on its own. Haven’t you ever had a cough after you had a cold for a while?”

“I suppose I have,” Kai said, but his face was still doubtful. “You’ll tell us if you start feeling sick, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. I’m not that dumb,” Tetsurou scoffed.

“I sure hope you’re not,” Yaku eyed Tetsurou suspiciously. “If you don’t tell us, I’ll kick your ass for lying to us.”

“So violent, Yakkun!” Tetsurou sighed dramatically. “This is why you’re the demon senpai. Even the devil himself is scared of you.”

Yaku launched himself at Tetsurou with a shriek of fury. Tetsurou laughed and dodged Yaku’s attack, but the libero didn’t give up, opting to chase Tetsurou around the gym instead. Kai awkwardly watched the duo for a few minutes before joining in the chase too to catch the troublesome third years (“Wait, guys! We have practice right now. You can’t just goof off the entire time! You’re setting a bad example for the others!”).

Tetsurou made it through morning practice and the first half of the day with no issue, but by lunch, certain problems were beginning to emerge. The first was Tetsurou’s ever-growing headache. It pounded in his temples throughout lunch, distracting him from his friends and food. The second was his cough. It was stronger than that morning, and Tetsurou was struggling to hide his coughing fits from the watchful eyes of Kai and Yaku. The final problem was the terribly uncomfortable combination of chills and aches wracking his body. Tetsurou’s muscles ached as his body shivered despite the fairly warm air around him.

Tetsurou stumbled through his afternoon classes, feigning attention to hide how sick he was feeling. Thankfully, Yaku and Kai weren’t in his afternoon classes to witness Tetsurou’s pitiful acting because Tetsurou was sure they would have dragged him home on the spot. But Tetsurou can’t let that happen. He has practice after school, and he was determined to make up for all that he’d missed in the past few days.

When classes finally end, Tetsurou walked leisurely to the gym for practice. He somehow was the first to arrive, so he began an easy warm-up. By the time he was finished, everyone else was in the gym warming up too. Tetsurou also felt slightly better, the ache in his muscles dulled by the adrenaline now in his system. The cough and headache still proved to be a problem, but Tetsurou had become much better at ignoring the headache and swallowing back coughs before they could escape. Even so, Yaku and Kai stared at him for a minute, both his friends suspicious of Tetsurou’s health. They only stopped when Coach Naoi fussed at them to warm up instead of standing around.

The rest of practice followed a similar pattern. No matter what Tetsurou was doing, Kai and Yaku were never far away, always watching for any cracks in their captain’s façade of good health. By the end of practice, Kai and Yaku were starting to think that they might have overreacted at morning practice. Tetsurou looked mostly fine all practice. Maybe his cheeks were a little flushed or his breathing a bit heavy, but that could easily be attributed to the amount of exercise he was doing.

Coach Nekomata was unusually spartan with his training throughout practice. So far, the team had done sprints, flying falls, receiving drills, and blocking drills all in the span of an hour and a half, so most of the team looked just as disheveled as Tetsurou by the end of practice. Coach Nekomata dismissed them a few minutes ago, but the third years and Kenma remained in the gym with the coaches. The third years were supposed to help clean up, and Kenma stayed because he always walked home with Tetsurou.

With everyone else gone, the coaches went to Nekomata’s office to get their things while the third years cleaned. Kai and Yaku got to work immediately, but Tetsurou lagged behind his friends. The adrenaline in his system was fading, and the aches and chills returned with a vengeance as Tetsurou’s head continued to throb. His lungs twinged uncomfortably, a cough building in his throat. Tetsurou tried to stifle it, but his body was done obeying him. Instead, a loud hacking cough escaped Tetsurou’s throat and echoed through the mostly empty gym.

Kai and Yaku whipped around to face their captain, shocked by the nasty cough, but Tetsurou wasn’t done. His abused lungs were tired of holding back, and his body spasmed with pain. Another cough tore out of Tetsurou’s throat, and then another. Coughs wracked Tetsurou’s shivering frame, and the boy fell to his knees as the coughing fit deprived his lungs of much-needed oxygen. Tetsurou’s head spun, his eyes foggy and unable to focus on anything.

Coughs continued to come. Tetsurou’s body was screaming for oxygen, but his lungs couldn’t calm down enough to let any air through. Tetsurou wheezed miserably, body shaking with strain and exhaustion. What the hell was happening? Tetsurou was fine that morning (well, maybe not that fine, but not this bad either), so how did he deteriorate so quickly? Tetsurou’s racing thoughts did nothing to ease the headache, and Tetsurou was sure that if he didn’t stop coughing soon, he might end up passed out on the gym floor.

Someone rubbed his back. Tetsurou lifted his heavy head to see Yaku carefully but firmly rubbing his back. The pressure helped Tetsurou focus and relax, causing his breathing speed to decrease and his coughs to lessen. Another hand came to rest on Tetsurou’s forehead (Kai’s, Tetsurou assumed), most likely taking his temperature. Tetsurou also saw Kenma walking toward him, holding Tetsurou’s water bottle. Kenma offered him the bottle, and Tetsurou took a small sip, hands still shaky and unsure. After a few sips, Yaku and Kai manhandled Tetsurou until he was sitting on his backside instead of his knees. Yaku and Kai looked at him sternly, and Tetsurou knew he was in very big trouble.

Surprisingly, Kai was the first one to speak. “Kuroo, why didn’t you tell us you weren’t feeling well?”

“I was feeling b-better during practice, so I d-didn’t think it was t-that bad,” Tetsurou muttered, his words broken up by coughs.

Yaku raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really, Roosterhead? That’s the best excuse you can come up with?”

“...Yes…?” Tetsurou said, though it sounded more like a question than an answer, even to his own ears.

“...You can tell us, Kuroo. We’re still your friends, even when you’re acting stupid.” Kenma leveled Tetsurou with a flat but stern gaze, and Tetsurou knew he had no choice but to explain.

“I feel bad, okay?!” Tetsurou snapped. “I’ve already missed three days of practice for a stupid cold, and I can’t miss any more practice, or I’ll get behind!”

“You can be such an idiot sometimes, Kuroo,” Yaku sighed, eyes oddly soft. “You’re allowed to miss practice when you’re sick. We know you wouldn’t skip practice, and no one wants your nasty germs in the gym anyway.”

“Yes, Kuroo,” Kai chimed in gently. “Our coaches aren’t so terrible that they’d make you practice while sick.”

“I know that,” Tetsurou sighed, “but it’s different for me. I’ve already missed too much, and I can’t stand missing any more practice!”

Kenma tilted his head lazily. “Why’s it different for you, Kuroo?” Kenma asked calmly.

“Because I’m the captain!” Tetsurou exclaimed, coughing as air caught in his lungs. “I can’t afford to slack off. I have to set a good example. I have to…” Tetsurou was crying at that point, exhaustion amplifying his emotions to an extreme level.

“Kuroo…” Kai whispered as he wrapped a sobbing Tetsurou in a delicate hug. “You are setting a good example. You’re a wonderful captain, and everyone on the team knows it.”

Yaku snuck into the hug too, squeezing Tetsurou with his warm, comforting arms. “Kai’s right, Kuroo. You’re a good captain. You know I’d kick your ass if you weren’t right?”

“Yes,” Tetsurou mumbled through more tears.

“And since I haven’t kicked your ass, do you know what that means?” Yaku pressed as Tetsurou’s sobs become quiet.

“That I’m a good captain?” Tetsurou asked, voice rough from tears and coughs.

“Exactly,” Yaku smiled warmly. “You’re a very good captain, Kuroo, but do you know what else you are?”

“...An idiot?” Tetsurou guessed, reaching up to wipe away any remaining tears.

Yaku chuckled softly. “Got it in one. Now let’s get you home. I don’t think you have a cold anymore. Kai?”

“It seems more like the flu to me. That fever is far too high to be just a cold,” Kai agreed, helping Yaku pull Testurou off the gym floor. “What do you think, Kenma?”

“Flu, probably. His symptoms match pretty well,” Kenma answered, stepping back to give Kai and Yaku room to work. “He could have had a cold earlier and picked up a flu virus on top of that.”

“Man, Kuroo, your luck sucks!” Yaku snickered as he supported Tetsurou. “You’re lucky you didn’t pass out. Coach Naoi would have freaked out if he had to call an ambulance for you.”

“You’re so mean, Yaku,” Tetsurou whined with as much energy as he could muster. “No wonder Lev is so scared of you, you snarky little devil!”

“I’m not little!” Yaku huffed but continued to support Tetsurou to the door.

“You two are too much sometimes,” Kai sighed at their antics. “Kenma, can you show us where Kuroo lives?”

“Yeah. Follow me,” Kenma agreed easily. “Hey Kuroo, you know I’m gonna tell your mom everything, right?”

Tetsurou’s eyes widened in horror. “Kenma, you can’t! She’ll never let me live this down! Please don’t tell her. I’m begging you!”

Kenma giggled at Tetsurou’s uncharacteristic behavior. “But if I don’t tell her, then she’ll fuss at me. I don’t like to be fussed at, Kuroo.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Tetsurou begged. “Just don’t tell my mom!”

Kenma’s face twisted into a mirthful smirk. “Okay. We’ll have a Super Smash Bros. tournament as soon as you get better.”

Tetsurou’s face fell instantly. “Smash Bros? But I suck at that game!”

“I know,” Kenma nodded sagely. “Kai, Yaku, you guys can come too if you want.”

“Sounds good, Kenma. Let us know when you pick a date and time,” Kai smiled at the setter. Yaku snickered and nodded in agreement.

Tetsurou groaned inwardly. These people were really his friends, huh? But they were taking him home after he got sick, Tetsurou reasoned. They were also helping him walk, and Tetsurou had no doubt that they wouldn’t leave his house until they had him feed, in bed, and drugged up on flu medicine. They were kind and caring when they wanted to be, and Tetsurou appreciated all they were doing for him right now. Maybe his friends weren’t so bad after all.

(No, scratch that. They were making fun of him for maining Kirby in Smash now. They were definitely assholes.)

[le0watch]

welcome home

(tws: slight body horror, temporary(ish) major character death, experimentation)

langa draws in a deep breath as he pulls the sheet from over reki's still body, the sight of pale skin and dull eyes making his stomach turn over. he wants to vomit, to scream and cry and rip his own skin off for even looking at reki's corpse, but he stops himself, instead swallowing back the sudden bile in his throat.

he pushes aside his grief- he already cried when reki first passed on, his chest rattling with sickness, his skin pale with pallor of disease. he had cried and cried already when reki was first diagnosed with TB, hes cried enough. now is the time for action.

he gets to work, angling the chair forward, bringing reki's corpse up with it. he steps around to the back, holding a knife tightly in his hand. he leans forward, slicing through the flesh of reki's neck, blood pooling before bursting out down the sides of his skin. the blood is thin and cool, no longer carrying with the heat of life. the smell of death hits langa's nose, but he ignores it in favor of strapping on the required helmet to reki's head and face.

he slides the needles connected to the helmet into reki's temples and forehead, and makes sure that it is on tight enough. pinpricks of blood trail down the sides of reki's face, but there is no reaction. of course there is no reaction. he's dead.

he returns to his place behind reki's corpse, grabbing the large drill like needle from the top of a nearby counter. he momentarily shuts his eyes, praying to whatever god that exists that this would work. he has no idea if it will, and so he can only hope, but he's done his best to mimic victor frakenstein's notes. that's what he and reki had been working on, before reki contracted TB and died.

"come on, man," reki had wheezed, stuck in bed, head propped up by a pile of pillows. langa was sat on a stool beside the bed, tightly gripping one of his weak hands. he hadn't slept in the same bed as reki in weeks, instead sleeping in the chair at the bedside to help whenever needed. "you can't give up because my body decides to give out." the redhead grinned brightly, making langa's heart ache when he devolves into a fit of hacking. he waited patiently for reki to catch his breath before speaking.

"there's no point to any of it without you, sunshine," langa muttered, eyes downcast. reki's weak hand weakly squeezed his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into langa's knuckles.

"well, of course there is," reki said pointedly. langa stared at him blankly, not believing a word of if. reki smiled softly at him, blood staining his lips. "you have to bring me back." langa's eyes widened in disbelief, and reki continued, "i'll be counting on you... promise me that you'll bring me back. i don't care how you do it. desecrate my grave, maim my body." langa's mouth had dropped open, and reki grinned once more. "just promise you won't leave me in the ground. i'd hate to leave you alone."

"i- ok. i promise," langa had sworn with all of his conviction. he decided then and there, that if he was unable to fulfill reki's promise, he would join his lover in the afterlife. "i promise."

reki smiled lightly, before coughing once more.

desecrating his grave had been harder than langa had imagined. he'd even gone to the funeral. watched as they lowered his body into the ground and covered he casket with dirt. digging it up again felt taboo, but the promise he'd made kept him shoveling the dirt up.

it had been raining when he finally got reki's corpse.

reki's corpse shudders as langa jabs the syringe into the back of reki's neck. the machines around him go haywire, typing and coding and doing its best to mimic reki's soul. he draws back, and steps to the wall covered in levers, drawing in a deep breath as he stares at reki's still body.

he prays that this will make it move again.

he yanks the main lever down, and instantly everything begins to pop and spark. smoke and steam sizzles just above reki's skin, filling the air with the scent of burning flesh.

electricity courses through reki's entire body, running through his veins and ending in his finger tips. his body convulses, fingers and toes twitching. his eyelids pop open before drooping again, lips fluttering.

langa holds the main lever down, and then pulls a few others down as well. more electricity jolts reki's body, and the blue light of an artificial soul drains into his flesh. it shines beneath his skin until it disappears, spreading through his veins. langa flips all of the switches back up, pulling the main one down for a moment longer to send more electricity through reki's body.

then, it's silent. langa holds his breath, staring at reki's motionless body. he sighs heavily when he sees nothing happening, ready to give up.

but then- one of reki's fingers twitch. langa's eyes widen and he rushes to stand before reki, watching the corpse as the eyelids flutter, his eyeballs swiveling around. his head arches back, before his neck throws it back up, and the blue light of the artificial soul lights his amber eyes with a different kind of life.

"reki?" langa calls softly, and those blue tinted amber eyes turn towards his face. reki's mouth hangs open, a dribble of saliva hanging from his chin. his eyes widen when they land on langa, and his body convulses once more as he gasps. langa catches his hand, holding it tightly. the body is actually moving again- but is reki alive? "reki, can you see me? can you hear me?"

reki doesn't respond, but his fingers do intertwine with langa's. his skin is cold with death, still, but the light of artificial life glows in his eyes. his lips tremble, and his head tilts to the side as he stares into langa's eyes. he blinks sluggishly, and langa tightens his hold on his hand.

reki's tongue slowly drags across his lips, and langa's breath catches when he sees recognition in those amber pools he so loves. he'd missed seeing them, he realizes.

"l- langa..." reki moans, voice thick with exhaustion and confusion.

langa's heart skips a beat when he hears reki's voice again after a month of a silent corpse. tears glaze over his eyes, his chest aching. reki's eyes are blurry and unfocused, but he's aware. and that's enough for langa.

"yes, sunshine, it's langa," he says, his voice tight with repressed tears. he tightly sqeueezes reki's hand, and he can't stop himself from tugging reki into a tight embrace. reki is quiet as he's held close to langa's chest, and the canadian tangles his fingers in the reanimated corpse's hair. "it's me. i kept my promise. welcome back."

reki doesn't respond.

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 1)

So it’s finally here, The Great Ace Attorney! I know practically nothing about this game, except that it’s a) set in Victorian London, b) has the themes of racism and xenophobia you’d expect from a game where you play a Japanese immigrant in Victorian London, and c) features Herlock Sholmes the himbo detective! (Also I think there might be a cereal killer plot, but I’m not too sure.)

Right away I’m being given a lot of very useful information regarding the historical setting for this game. Unfortunately I’m unable to fully process it because two seconds in and I’ve already been accused of murder!

Oh Ace Attorney how I’ve missed you.

Hello Kazuma! I like the way your headband billows even though there’s no wind, and I hope you have a much longer and fuller life than my last Ace Attorney mentor.

Ok so it seems like we’re both students at the same university, but Kazuma is the protégé golden boy, who’s about to be sent abroad because he’s just That Good. Fortunately I (Ryunosuke) am his beloved best friend, and will therefore be allowed to tag along (which is a really damn good job because I’m the one front and centre of the box).

Say what you will about incredible aura, but I’m pretty sure Kazuma’s just set up some sort of fan mechanism under there.

Hello Pink Lady from the box!

As a seasoned Ace Attorney player I am immediately suspicious of anyone from the first case who isn’t a main character. I’m watching you professor!

Ok so from what I can gather from our exchange the Professor Mikotoba is the forensics pathology professor at the university (I wonder if his daughter, or whoever the pink lady is, will be our Ema Skye), and if Kazuma the golden boy takes our case an loses he won’t get to go fulfill his dream of studying abroad.

Frankly, from all their idealistic chatter about jolly old Britain, I feel like these boys might be in for a bit of a rude awakening once they actually make it to London. And I’m not sure Ryunosuke, with all his beautiful naïve innocence, is going to do too well.

And speaking of beautiful naïve innocence...

No Ryunosuke! Don’t agree to things like that!

I’m beginning to suspect Ryunosuke’s just being used as bait for Kazuma. Like someone out there really doesn’t want Kazuma to go abroad for some reason, and so they’re using his less good best friend to trap him in the country.

Oh Ryunosuke...

In all my years playing Ace Attorney I have never been more torn by a suggestion box. On one hand, the first time I play an Ace Attorney game, I try and play it in the way it should be played. And so, even though this is an UNBELIEVABLY STUPID DECISION, I feel like Ryunosuke, a man who doesn’t seem to have the words ‘Set Up’ in his dictionary, would not even hesitate to bellow I do because Professor Mikiller told him to.

On the other hand this is an UNBELIEVABLY STUPID DECISION and Kazuma should clearly be in charge.

Ok, I’ve decided I’m going to press it (partly because I think the game might punish me if I don’t) but I will have my head in my hands as I do so.

See Kazuma agrees with me.

Oh fuck, the victims John Watson Wilson!!!

Ok, so I’m re-evaluating my assumption that I (Ryunosuke) was simply bait for Kazuma, it looks like I was instead the poor expendable mug who can be pinned with causing an international incident. Is it bad that I feel like I’ve been promoted?

My god, everyone must have had a heart attack when Kazuma the Golden Boy stepped up to defend me. No wonder they didn’t want him involved!

Ok let’s bring out Professor Mikotoba the witness, so he can explain how he’s played us like a damn fiddle-

WHO THE HELL IS THAT!?!

I would like to take this opportunity to apologies to Professor Mikotoba, who is I can only assume a beloved recurring character. I’m very sorry sir but I did not see you on the box. Yes I understand that, as someone who’s favorite character is Gumshoe, this was no excuse. Please forgive me.

Side note though: Satoru’s whole *hacks up blood* ‘It’s nothing, this just happens sometimes, please ignore it and continue’ thing is the most relatable thing I’ve seen so far. As someone with a chest condition whose lungs sometimes just bleed, this is literally the response you develop. I know this guys probably a murderer and that’s probably Crime Related Blood, but for now the two of us understand each other.

Ok, so from that cross examination we’ve got one mysterious lady the waiter says he never saw, one unwillingly received Buisness card from Satoru Hosonaga, and one coughing fit my lungs started after watching Satoru wheezing away.

WHAT IS THIS!!??!!

MORE WITNESSES!!??!!

ON A FIRST CASE??!!!

DO THE SACRED LAWS OF FIRST ACE ATTORNEY CASES MEAN NOTHING TO THIS GAME!?!??

This is a neat mechanic though, and one I’ve been hoping would make it to a cannon Ace Attorney game since the Professor Layton crossover. It seems like we’re just sticking to standard testimony listening for now, rather than checking between reactions, but I’m very happy to see it’s return.

GET HIS ASS KAZUMA!!!

(Kazuma’s quickly becoming my favourite, it’s a lot of fun to have the Edgeworth over your side of the courtroom for once)

Ok, so Kazuma (who’s name my iPad now autocorrects into all caps) has shown me how to examine evidence, meaning that if I had, shall we say, a receipt with the word Maya written on it, I could turn it over to see what was written on the other side.

So, while I now know that Dr Watson Wilson wasn’t able to have tucked into that big juicy steak behind him, I just want to check that business card Satoru was so unhappy to give away...

Interesting...

I don’t know what this means, but it sure is interesting...

Now back to slamming an old man with a stolen coin (that was probably taken by the penniless guy next to him)

I’m not sure how he’s managed it, but Auchi has somehow become the most slapable of the Pains.

GET THEIR ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

(I like how his desk slam’s changed as he gets more confident)

DAMN STRAIGHT WE’D TAKE ON THE GOVERNMENT!!!

So there’s been a coverup! Well that explains the detective posing as a waiter, but it still leaves a huge question mark over the identity of the woman in question. Other than possibly Satoru, who I can’t see as having any reason to dress up, I don’t feel like any of the current witnesses could fit the bill. Whoever she is, though, it must be someone who’s involvement could cause more problems if she was found out, which would mean that she’s either someone with a lot of political influence in Japan, or she’s someone who followed the good Dr from England (and might well have a lot of influence there).

Either way I’m beginning to suspect that, in great break from Ace Attorney tradition, NONE OF THE WITNESSES COMMITTED THE CRIME!!! (Or at least not this one.)

Don’t worry Kazuma, I turned the receipt business card over this time!

Screenshots don’t do this justice.

I don’t know what makes this better, Ryunosuke’s cheerful mile wide supposition, or the speed at which Satoru cut him off.

...are they Satoru? Are they really?

At this point I would apologies to Satoru Hosonaga, however I feel like he might have been using me as the scape goat for this murder, so I’m going to say that I’m not sorry. (We still have a weird blood related understanding though, and for that reason I am not as hostile as I might have been)

Yeah, that’s fair Ryunosuke.

WAIT WHAT!?!

Oh, it’s just a flash back gunshot. I thought someone had just whipped out a gun and shot the detective before he could say another word!

Oh dear, this goes all the way to the top doesn’t it?

Poor Ryunosuke though, he’s not even made it to the stinky rainy streets of London and already his illusions about justice are being shattered. Given that this is effectively the prologue case, I dread to see what comes next.

HELL YEAH JUGE, WERE GETTING THE KILLER LADS!!!

SATURO HOSONAGA YOU’RE BACK ON THE CHRISTMAS CARD LIST (but on thin ice)

‘So it won’t be a problem?’ Ryunosuke, weren’t you listening, it’s going to be a massive problem! Fortunately everyone else in this courtroom has just decided that you know what fuck the government actually, and so we’re doing it anyway!

Hosonaga’s trying really hard to win me back over folks, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t working.

I like this hardass judge! I’ll send him a Christmas card too.

MADE IT TO THE FIRST HALF!

[uniwolfcorn]

He Came Home

Chapter 2.

Content warning: Major character death!

(Hey guys! Sorry for not writing again! But here’s the now finished wip that I’ve been wanting to post! Hopefully I get my lazy butt to post this on Ao3 soon :’3)

(Also a big thanks to @katblu42 for helping me beta read this bad boy! Enjoy and stay safe out there!🧡💛❤💚💙)

————————————————————————————

Loss, the pain of loss.

The pain of losing somebody you've held near and dear, no matter how much you've told yourself "It's just a dream", the sinking feeling in your heart knows that wasn't true. No matter how many times you've cared for them and tried to be there with them every step of the way, they were taken away from you anyway. No matter how much you loved them, no amount of love or compassion could bring them back,

and that’s the harsh truth we all had and have to live with.

The Tracys knew this well and hard when they lost Lucy. She was wonderful, vivacious, and did everything she could to care for her boys and husband. Her family loved her unconditionally. For the boys and Jefferson, she was their life, and yet... she was ripped away from them in a horrible tragedy. Although they had learned to soldier forward without her, no amount of time could ever heal the wounds.

For Alan, his memories of Lucy were blurry, as she had passed when he was very young. But despite this, her death was painful for him nonetheless. Along with his brothers and father, they vowed to assure a tragedy such as theirs would never happen to anyone else. When International Rescue came to be, they've made sure to deliver their promises. Every day, they'd risked and limb to protect those in need. Weather it came from human error, natural disaster, or sabotage, IR would be there, to save and protect any lives, at any cost.

Alan didn't mind the risks of working in IR, he liked the thrill, the adrenaline of the rush. A few cuts, bruises, or hell, even a hospital trip wasn't enough to knock him down. No matter how many times his brothers grounded him, he always kept finding his way back up.

But as time went by, Alan's health was slowly deteriorating. He brushed off his wheezes and coughing fits, which would often turn into hacking with tiny bits of red he tried to hide in his hands. But despite the concern from his family, he kept pressing forward. He had a job to do.

One day, Alan handed over some coffee for Jeff, waving off his father’s concerns once again. “I’ll be fine.” That’s what he always said. He walked up the stairs, and looked beyond the balcony.

His father was home, they’d rescued more lives than they could’ve ever imagined, his family was happy. It’s all he ever could’ve wanted. They’ve gotten far, they’d soared high even with their wings tied down,

and they were ok. That’s all that mattered to him.

With every step he took towards his room, he felt his heart jitter and squirm within his chest. With only a few steps into his dorm, he collapsed onto the floor. The last thing he heard in his mind was his father screaming to Scott for help before everything went silent.

The next thing Alan knew was that he heard beeping. His eyes slowly opened, immediately recoiling at the bright blues and whites washing over his eyes. With a horrid croak from his throat, he asked what had happened. Right on cue, a nurse came in with the most grim expression one could ever think of.

She gave the news Alan suffered a heart murmur, but the news only got worse. The murmur was due to an illness that had been slowly growing within him for years, and had taken up until now to reach a fever pitch. But then there was the diagnosis that made their world crumble.

Alan didn’t have a chance to live.

The disease would slowly tear away at his body, making it come to a crawl until it could no longer function. Tears were spilled, questions were thrown, hands were held tight. Of course the family asked Alan why he kept this in for so long. As drained as his body was, with every weak breath he could muster, he gave them his answer.

“If you knew... you would’ve freaked. I didn’t want you to find out this way. I’m sorry...”

Despite the rough, the family stayed by Alan’s side as much as they possibly could. But juggling with IR made things difficult. It was harder when the nurses would ask them to leave. They didn’t wanted to leave. They wanted to be there as long as they possibly could during his last breaths on Earth. But they knew that no amount of love in the world could heal him.

All they could do was just be there.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months. Every day he grew worse and worse. His body was failing him.

Then came the day they all dreaded. Scott and Jeff were visiting Alan during some IR downtime. They were reading him some of his favorite stories from when he was little, stories Lucy used to read before bedtime. Alan was dozing off as he would.

Then the monitors started to beep fast, then faster, and faster. The alarms started blaring as the boy began seizing. He wasn’t breathing, his heart was pounding and struggling to pump any blood in his body. Doctors and nurses rushed in and tried to resuscitate him. They brought in the defibrillator.

“CLEAR!” They shocked him once, then twice, then three times in a row. But his vitals dropped. They didn’t come back. At that moment, Alan Shepard Tracy, young astronaut and race star, youngest of his fellow brothers... was gone. Gone far too soon.

Alan’s funeral took place on the island at night, beneath the very stars he loved. Not a single dry eye was present. They gave speeches, looked at his ill yet deathly peaceful body, and buried him into the ground. It would soon be showered with flowers, toys, and candles, with his picture in the center of it all.