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queenie-riamu · 23 days ago

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Hands Kissed by Death

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Chapter 2

(Pure Vanilla x Fem Death’s Touch Reader)

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The silence that surrounded you was unsettling. The soft splat of your jam landing against the rocks and trees didn’t help much. Something was seriously off, and it was beginning to get to you. As you walked around the perimeter, you began to reflect on all the events that had occurred yesterday. That pack of wild cake hounds that ran so close to your home was unnatural, abnormal even. Almost the whole forest knew of your existence along with the massive price those who get too close have to pay. And those that didn’t know would learn of it when they came into contact with your flowers. ‘Those cake hounds must have been scared of something—truly frightening if they all had the guts to use the surrounding area of my home as a shortcut.’ You started to try and think what could possibly be so scary to justify such a foolish decision.

‘Definitely not a cake wolf or a cream skelecake footmanr they aren’t threatening enough to cause this sort of firestorm. A jellyworm can cause fright when it pops out of the ground, but they don’t cause this level of panic.’ You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize that you had accidentally walked a little too far out and were no longer in the perimeter that you had marked. ‘Maybe a jelly wyrm? An abnormally big blueberry spider?’ You were scratching the very back of your brain so hard it was beginning to give you a headache. Then you remembered a monster you hadn’t seen or heard of in years. Long ago a somewhat similar situation that had occurred yesterday had happened before, but it was more intense. What caused that mass panic? A dragon.

Just as the word came to your mind, you had a sudden reality check as your foot got stuck on a tree root. Falling face first on the wet grassy floor. You groaned in pain as you slowly got up, trying your best to not touch too much plantation life as your mind began to clear. “Gah, my nose…” You whipped your hand under your nose to see if you were bleeding, which luckily you weren’t. “I’ve been gone too long… I should head back—”

“Hey! Are you alright!?”

A sudden new sound called out to you. You felt your body tense up as you froze right where you stood. A wave of dread and fear washed over you violently as you whipped your head in the direction of this new sound. Your worst fear had suddenly appeared before you. A few feet away from you, a cookie was slowly walking towards you with worry etched on their face. “Lemon Sorbet Cookie, did someone get hurt?” Your panic levels began to rise as you suddenly realized that there was more than just one cookie near. “I found a cookie all alone here! Hey, are you alright? What are you doing here all the way out here? Did you get separated from your group?” You forced yourself to break from your frozen panic state as the cookie began to get closer to your flowers. “Your hand’s bleeding! Hang on, I have—”

“Stop! Don’t take another step!” You screamed as you took a step back, your legs wobbling. But you warned him a little too late as he stepped right next to one of your spider lilies. In an instant he was hit with a sudden dizziness as his vision became blurry from a huge purple thing. “No, no, no! Back away! Now!” The cookie wobbled backwards as he held his head. Before he could fall to the ground, another cookie quickly ran to him and caught him. “Lemon Sorbet Cookie! Are you alright?” The cookie gently helped him down as he slowly came back to his senses. “Ughhhh... My head feels like it just got forcefully drained…” You didn’t know what to do. A part of you wanted to just run back to your home, but another part of you wanted to help the unfortunate cookie that had gotten hurt because of your flowers.

“Hey you! Did you do this to Lemon Sorbet Cookie?” The other cookie got up and was about to walk towards you. “Stop! Stop right where you are right now!” The cookie froze in his tracks as he stared at you in both shock and confusion. “Listen to me carefully,” You did your best to calm yourself so as not to stutter. “Those purple flowers in front of you will do the same thing they did to your friend if you get too close to them! Help your friend to back away from them, please! I’ll clear away those flowers and then answer all your questions after.” The cookie stared at you for a moment before nodding and helping his friend to back away from your flowers. Once they were far enough, you slowly began to walk towards your flowers. Once you were close enough, with a gentle wave of your hand, the flower began to die and become dark purple ash that slowly disappeared. “How’d you—”

“Whatever you do, don't even think about taking a single step towards me.”

The cookie stared at you in shock at your sudden words and was about to question why, but you kept talking. “If there are more cookies with you, please call them over now. I would prefer to say what I'm about to say once.” The cookie simply stared at you, unsure if he should comply with what you just said. He looked you in the eyes to try and understand what your motives were. After a long, awkward silence, he spoke. “Hollyberry Cookie, Pityay Dragon Cookie! Over here!” He yelled out. After a few seconds, two other cookies emerge. “Is everything alright with the Wildberry Cookie?” “Yes, Queen Mother. However, this new cookie wishes to speak to all of us.” Hollyberry Cookie looked towards you, raising a brow. “Oh? And who might you be?” You looked at the group of cookies in silence for a while, taking in the fact that this is the first time in many years you have seen other cookies. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat before speaking.

“Greetings, cookies from the outer world. My name is Nymph Reader Cookie, Death's Monarch Butterfly. Whatever I land on or get near me crumbles at my touch, so I ask that you do not take a step towards me. I mean no harm to you so long as you don’t raise your fist and weapons at me.”

You spoke clearly to them, making your warning about what happens if they even think of getting close to you. They stared at you for a while before one of them spoke up. “Death’sss Monarch Butterfly, you say? Are you the weapon I heard about all those years ago that some group of cookiesss planned to use to get rid of us dragonsss?” The cookie who you assumed was Pitaya Dragon Cookie asked. “Pitaya, do you know who this cookie is?” A cookie who was holding a shield asked as she turned her gaze towards them. “Yearsss ago, Louta Dragon Cookie mentioned how deep within Beast Yeast, a cookie whose handsss were blessed by death resided in a temple. They mentioned that this cookie was a great weapon that the cookies were going to use to kill all us dragonsss someday, but that day never came. I assumed that it was nothing but a false rumor.” The cookie with a shield looked at you as if deep in thought. You took a step back, feeling a bit anxious as she kept staring at you. Then suddenly she smiled widely at you as she spoke.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Nymph Reader Cookie! My name is Hollyberry Cookie, and these three are my cookie allies! Pitaya Dragon Cookie, Wildberry Cookie, and Lemon Sorbet Cookie.” Her loud and cheerful voice frightens you slightly. It’s been a while since you’ve heard anyone's voice that wasn’t your own or Persephone’s. “Uhh...yeah... Nice to meet you all. Can you all please leave now?” Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest. You hoped they would listen to you and leave right away, but sadly, Hollyberry Cookie didn’t seem to have any intent to. “Leave now? Now why would I leave when I have stumbled upon such an interesting cookie that I wish to know more of?” Her declaration of wanting to stay and talk to you both shocked and scared you. “Um, did you not hear my warning well? My touch could kill all of you, and I have no way of turning off this power! Please go back. I do not wish to bring harm to any of you.”

“Queen Mother, we should listen to Nymph Reader Cookie.” Wildberry, he said as he placed a hand on Hollyberry's shoulder. “She doesn’t want any of us to get hurt because of her power. We should obey her request and go back now.” You let out a sigh of relief that at least one of them had understood your warning. Unfortunately, you celebrated a bit too soon as your eyes landed on the cookie that had gotten too close to your flowers. His dough looked whiter, and his breath was shaky. He had been near your flowers for too long and was now experiencing the aftereffects. “Hmmm. Fine, let us ret-”

“Wait,” you shouted as you took a small step forward. “Your friend... I-Is not okay…” You swallowed hard as you said something you weren’t sure you’d regret. “It… it is my fault your friend got h-hurt… It’ll be difficult for you to return with him in such a condition…” You breathe in hard, trying to convince yourself that this is the least you could do.

“Why not come with me to my home? Just for today. I have medicine that will help your friend get back to his old self by tomorrow…” Part of you wanted to kick yourself for making such an offer. You knew of the danger other cookies would be in for as long as you lived, but it was your flowers that had caused Lemon Sorbet Cookie to fall ill. ‘It’ll be fine... I’ll make sure to constantly keep a good distance from them all.’

Hollyberry let out a joyful laugh with a wide smile. “We’d be delighted for you to have us for today!” Wildberry turned to her with an unsure look. “Hollyberry Cookie I’m not so sure about this.” Pitaya added on, “Yeah, I’m not so sure if we should accept her offer.” You deflated a bit at their comment. “Oh, come on now! She gave us the option to sleep tonight inside a home instead of outside, along with helping Lemon Sorbet Cookie get better! Who would we be to turn down such a good offer?” The two looked at Hollyberry for a bit before sighing heavily. Hollyberry helped Lemon Sorbet Cookie and gently propped him up on her back. You stared at the cookies in front of you. Taking in the idea of having others be in your temple after years.

“We’re all good to go here! Lead the way, Nymph Reader Cookie!” You nod slightly as you turn around to walk back to your home. “Please keep a four-foot distance from me.” Today was going to be a long day.

HIYAA! Hope you enjoy the new chapter 😆. Sorry if any of the characters are a bit OOC. I tried my best to write them as close to how they act in canon. Two more chapters before we finally get to meet Pure Vanilla. The next chapter will probably be uploaded in two days if I can keep this motivation.

(This chapter is shorter than the last one. I promise the next one will be longer than this one!)

#cookie run kingdom #crk #crk x reader #cookie run x reader #pure vanilla cookie #pure vanilla x reader #pure vanilla x you #yayyy :3

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temis-de-leon · 1 year ago

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Love potion and OM! Brothers - Part 1

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Intro , Part 2 , Part 3

Masterlist

CW: only fluff here, a little bit of jealousy, a little suggestive (nothing sexual), i like the idea of Mammon and MC in the shower, brothers here are crushing hard and it's implied MC is crushing hard too, pre-established relationship and nothing else i think?

Please enjoy!

Lucifer

The Avatar of Pride doesn't prance, Lucifer thought trying to correct his gaut with no success. After all, how often did he have so little work to do and so much free time?

Did the stars align themselves to give him such an opportunity? Did Father see the weight on his shoulders and finally had some pity on his wayward son?

Whatever the reason was, he was thankful for it.

His desk was clean, stacks of paperwork filled and categorized in neat piles. No last moment phonecalls from Diavolo nor Barbatos, no vengeful witches knocking on the door, no janitors complaining over sudden floods.

He'd only be happier if you were there with him, sharing a glass of Demonus or dancing in the privacy of his room. Should he organize a date? Make everything perfect or let everything flow as naturally as possible, holding your hand and kissing your knuckles and letting his feelings be known?

Before he realized, Lucifer was at your door. A warm feeling coated his heart when he smelled the expensive fragrance of your perfume (a gift from him, may he add).

"MC?"

He couldn't wait, already imagining you in your favorite outfit, smiling at him the way you always did while you accepted having him as your partner. He'd kiss you then, if you let him, and he'd go to bed a thousand times happier than the day before.

But he had to ask you out first.

He knocked again, suspecting you were wearing your headphones at maximum volume. Carefully, not wanting to give you a heart attack and risk what could be a perfect evening, Lucifer called out your name one last time and opened the door.

To his surprise, your room was completely empty. Pillows scattered on the carpet and candles shining under the leaves of the magic tree, but no human on sight. However, the smell was stronger than ever.

He realized soon where it came from and he wasted no time inhaling the scent as much as he could with a lovestruck look on his face. He hoped none of his brothers came barging through the door; it was the last thing he needed.

What were you making, MC? Perhaps a substitute for the bottle he gifted you a couple of months ago? Did you already run out of it? Oh, how honored you made him feel!

Lucifer sat next to the cauldron, closing his eyes and picturing you next to him. His hands twitched, wishing to touch you and hold you close, and his heart violently pumped against his chest at the idea of ending the day having his feelings reciprocated.

He'd never felt this much peace.

Mammon

"Oi! MC!"

The door flew open, bouncing against the wall and making the hinges cry, but Mammon didn't even flinch. His smile disappeared and he brought his hands to his hips. Where were you?

He entered the room in search for you, checking the bed, the bathroom and even the wardrobe. Who knows? Maybe you got locked inside. Humans were dumb like that!

"MC! You better come out if you want The Great Mammon to take you out for dinner! It's a one time opportunity!"

You didn't appear, however, and now he stood in the middle of your room in awkwardness. He could smell your shampoo, your shower gel and your body cream, but the bath was completely dry. The cauldron on the table was cold, too. You must've been out for a long while.

You weren't out with any of his brothers, were you? You couldn't! If you were out with anybody, it should be him!

He sent you a message and not even a minute later, too impatient to wait for a reply, he called you, but you didn't answer. And how could you answer? Your DDD was hidden under the mountain of pillows and discarded clothes on the floor!

Yes, his room was also kind of a disaster, but that was different, okay?!

There was no way you were out of the house without your DDD, so you probably were in the kitchen or, if your luck was out, getting reprimanded by Lucifer for whatever stupid reason he found.

Loudly sighing, Mammon threw himself over the bed and breathed your scent in. He couldn't avoid thinking of you dressed only in one of those baby pink towels Asmo gifted you when you arrived. The image of your hands massaging the body cream over your naked body made fun of him, not wanting to disappear no matter how hard he tried.

Were you able to reach your back? Has anyone ever done that for you, feeling your skin and the muscles underneath? Feeling your body sink and melt under his fingers? Shivering under his touch the moment he called you his treasure?

Mammon opened his eyes, not realizing until then how lost he was in his imagination. Even his fingers were rubbing each other, as if he was spreading the product and warming it for your pleasure.

He would pay anything to see you so relaxed around him, MC.

Anything.

Levi

Levi shyly knocked on your door, trying not to squeak too loud while he waited for an answer.

He finally got his hands on the new Sucre Frenzy's limited edition mechandise! He'd been glued to his pc for hours, not blinking for the most of it and not even going to the bathroom, but it was all worth it! Come on MC! Open the door! HE DIDN'T COME OUT OF HIS ROOM FOR NOTHING!!

MC?

He knocked again, this time nervous and unsure. You'd never ignore him, would you? Were you doing important things? More important than him?

The door opened with a bang and Levi wasn't sure if he did it with his magic or with his own hands. Envy's doings were unconscious.

"MC?"

There was no one in your room, which made him almost as happy as the limited edition merchandise did before, if not a little bit more. Even better, the only scent in your room was you: your beauty products, your laundry detergent, your perfume and, why not, even your sweat. Just you.

He closed the door, not wanting any of his brothers to experience what he was feeling in that precise moment.

There was a cauldron on the table, no doubt homework for Solomon, and the mere though of you two working together made his guts coil.

He closed his eyes and smelled again.

There was your shower gel, when you both painted your skin for a cosplay and couldn't get the color out; your laundry detergent, when you washed one of his shirts with your clothes because he just had to wear it for a premiere; your sweat, when you both danced for hours to get the perfect combo.

He led himself to the table, where all your scents mixed in one single liquid in the cauldron. What was this? A potion? For what? Your smell was so good, MC, what were you trying to do with it?

Whatever the reason, he couldn't let anyone else enjoy your essence. Something that made you you. Something that, if he became worthy enough, only he could have.

Tagging the party: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav @zarakem @yuuvis32

If anyone else wants to be tagged, send me a message!

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butmakeitgayblog · 10 months ago

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Teach Me

Ch. 8

Woods residence

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The street that matched the address in her phone was slim. An offshoot sat sleepily on the outskirts of towns, stippled with cars sitting under twin rows of shady trees that dotted the entire block.

Sedans sprinkled themselves in among driveways filled with minivans and SUVS; all decked out with bike racks, tags denoting the proud parentage of some middle school kid, and more than a few sprawling stick-figured family trees that would leave anyone wondering if these people had ever heard of birth control.

Every lawn looked manicured with its little picket fences. Every house, a revolving shade of white, eggshell, or beige.

Clarke had to double check her GPS just to make sure the satellite triangulation hadn't somehow directed her to Mayberry circa 1930.

Only one house stood out in such an HOA hellscape.

A shining beacon among the drab suburban nightmare, all ash-toned trimming and rustic finishes that complemented its deep, grey stone facade. It was a single-story lot stretched out from one boundary line to the other, creating an angular pancake sort of a house, squat and rather moody (if a house could even be described as such), topped with a slate roof with dark shutters, and a rough-cut stone chimney stretching skyward on one side.

The sight of it made Clarke smile as she parked under the shade of the house's designated curbside oak.

Lexa had indeed said she couldn't miss the place.

Clarke spared herself a once-over in the reflection of her car's window when she hopped out, taking a second to check the understated allure of her makeup and the exact placement of the deep v-line of her sweater.

A waist-high swinging iron gate decorated in blunted curls and ornate geometrics separated the manicured sidewalk out on the street from a front yard left to breathe and bend at its own will. Clarke made her way through the controlled chaos of the front walk, admiring the twin lilac bushes that flanked either side and drifted her fingers along the purpling of their first Spring bloom. An obnoxiously yellow jeep that Clarke would've never imagined for her tweed-and-tie wearing professor sat parked in the driveway in all its garish glory, sticking out like a sore thumb amidst the beige single file suburban backdrop.

A heated swoop flashed through Clarke's belly as she took the two front steps in one go, and she wondered when that delicious aching had replaced the more innocent flutter of butterflies. When just thinking of Lexa had started eliciting such a violent uptick in her heart's rhythm; the mere idea of being near her rocking Clarke with these sudden shots of adrenaline.

She supposed it was probably somewhere between sneaking kisses in the studio's kiln room and exchanging dirty messages while they each, presumably, got themselves off.

Clarke hadn't had the courage to ask if she was the only one…

It really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, not when the door swung open before she could even finish her third knock. Because framed in the picturesque doorway was - possibly, potentially, easily debatably once her brain would start working again - one of the most beautiful women Clarke had ever seen in her thirty-nine years of life.

Just… not the particular one she'd expected.

////////

Read on AO3

#clexa #clexa fic #clarke griffin #clarke griffin and lexa #teach me #prof/stu au

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mynameisemma · 7 months ago

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Lowkey highkey obsessed with overprotective Cainlane this update. Cain checking on Lane and asking if she's okay when she misses her breakfast to workout; Cain standing a little bit behind Lane in the gym as if he was going to hug her from behind; Cain actually hugging Lane when the wave hits the ship; Lane being the first one he gets out of water because she's the only one that matters to him; Lane rushing to watch Cain anxiously as he dives back into the water; Lane holding back the urge to take his hand because he's tired and unwell; Lane forgetting anything else and rushing to Cain when he gets shot; Lane refusing to leave his side afterwards even when he insists on it (It's alright; I won't disappear); Cain shielding Lane from the explosion with his wing; Lane dragging exhausted Cain together with Anna.

They feel like two halves of a whole dreading a sudden and violent separation.

#heaven's secret requiem #rc spoilers #cainlane #rc cain #rc lane #and it's such an organic and satisfying progression of their feelings from what we saw in the last update #''спокойный гллос Каина ощущался почти родным'' сижу в тишине

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randofics · 1 year ago

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Transformers/HFY headcannon

Human Savagery

TW: Cybertronian Gore

You knew they were coming. You had someone they wanted, and you'd defend him till your last breath. Optimus Prime lay in a bramble thicket wounded in battle and separated from the others. You had covered him in branches and woodland detritus in an attempt to conceal his bright paint and metal.

Without the others to defend you, the task was up to you alone. You set to work, placing a perimeter of traps. With vines and a few logs left behind from a brush clearing operation, you set up a swinging log trap. That alone took all your strength and some leveraging. The snare traps were much easier to set along with the pitfalls and spikes.

Tripwires attached to hidden bow traps were aimed high enough to spear a cybertronian head or torso and more taught Tripwires were set so they would fall onto beds of sharpened stakes.

By the time night came around again, you were hungry, thirsty, and absolutely exhausted. All that was left now was to wait. Checking on Optimus, you assured him that the deceptions wouldn't get him. And told him that you would be hiding somewhere away from him in case they somehow managed to find one of you.

As the hours ticked by, your eyes drooped, and you fought sleep. But the sudden sound of heavy steps alerted you. There was a loud crash and a garbled screech as you assumed one of the bows went off and speared the enemy. A long bout of rustling was followed by silence and relief washed over you when you realized they were dead.

A few minutes go by, and more heavy steps are heard around you. Then the real carnage starts. Thuds, crashes, and more yelling fills the air as more deceptions fall for your traps. It gives you a strange giddy satisfaction at their terror. That primal itch forever in the back of the human mind is being thoroughly scratched by this.

-------

Optimus hears the terror in their voices and feels somewhat terrified himself. He knows you were the only ally with him here, so what was happening!? There was no way you alone were defeating them. Perhaps the others had found you? He stayed still listening to the carnage around him.

------

They didn't know what was happening. Their comrades were going silent left and right with only a short scream or garbled noise as any hint of what happened to them. One decepticon carefully trudging through the trees saw the shining metal of his comrade in his floodlights.

Blaster drawn, he slowly approached the prone body. Glowing enerjon spilled onto the forest floor. It also covered the now glowing wooden spikes run-through sticking out of his back.

The con continues his treck, eventually running across two more bodies. At this point, he was almost alone, with only three more still talking through comms. They, too, kept finding bodies.

He inspected another which had been impailed through the helm with a large wooden spear and another with his helm completely severed from his body with a vine turned into a noose. Soon he could hear his remaining team being taken out their screams would forever haunt him.

Spark racing he debated on if he should continue forward risking being slaughtered like everyone else or return to give lord Megatron the bad news.

Pushing through his fear, he moved further. The noise of the forest filled his audials. Sudden rustling caught his attention, and he whipped around. An animal bounded across his path its white furred tail waving through the air as it gracefully cleared a fallen tree.

Laughter made a chill run up his backstrut. And he started running. Passing the body of another comrade with a crushed helm. The noise of the forest grew louder, it seemed as his terror was fuelled. He couldn't hear himself process it was so loud. Other sounds chased him, and he ran even faster, crashing into trees and tripping over boulders. Suddenly, the ground fell from under him, and then pain tremendous and violent pain.

He was on his side halfway in a pit of spikes. They pierced through the metal of his chasis, running him through almost completely. Enerjon spilled from his mouthplate and around the organic spikes. There was a lot probably too much to be healthy.

His optics dimmed as his spark began to fail. His lights flickered before he turned them off in an attempt to save energy. A dark silhouette slinked out of the shadows in his peripheral, and he snapped his helm to see them. A human female squatted in front of him just out of his reach. She smiled wickedly down at him.

"I enjoyed this much more than I thought I would. I suppose it's revenge for those of my species your people have killed whether intentionally or not. Based on your injuries and blood loss, I assume you'll die within the next hour or so if even that. The others were lucky in comparison, only lasting maybe a few minutes at most."

He attempted to grab at you, but you were too far away. "You poor pitiful creature... when the others hear of this, they're going to hunt you down and rend you in two."

With a hyena like laugh, you grow serious. "I'd like to see them try." With that, you stand spitting in his face before walking away.

-------

Optimus wakes to the sun shining in his face. The branches had been moved so he could get back up. He pushed himself upright, wincing at the pain from his injuries. He still felt weak but not as much as before. Spotting you, he quietly stood, making his way over.

You lay against a tree fast asleep the fire in front of you softly crackling. There was a concave piece of metal on the fire with water boiling away. With a dark realization, he recognized it as a piece of cybertronian plating. He looked around for the others, but there was no one there. Had he halucinated that night? That was the only reasonable explanation.

But where had that plate come from?

You stir from your sleep, wiping a dirty hand over your face. Spotting him, you jump up. "Optimus, you're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Still weak but better. What happened last night?"

"The decepticons attacked." His eyes widen.

"Where are the others?"

"They aren't here. I killed all the cons single handedly." He looks at you in disbelief.

"You should probably just see for yourself."

He walks away further into the woods, and you turn your attention back to your boiling water, pulling it off the fire.

-------

He quickly stumbles on a body run through by wooden spikes. The cold empty optics of the con stare back at him. He moves on.

Another body without a helm, it's enerjon spilled onto the ground, has dried into the dirt. A few more bodies in similar grousome form lay scattered about the forest around him. He's used to cybertronian gore, but for some reason, this makes him feel nauseous or at least the cybertronian equivalent.

Normally, it takes significant firepower to kill even one decepticon with human weapons. These traps are primitive and effective on game animals, but at this bigger scale, they're just as deadly for cybertronians. He realizes as he walks back that one of the decepticons helms is missing a plate with the opposite matching the one you had exactly.

When he came back to you, you had already started drinking your now warm water. The somewhat disturbing visual of you drinking from what was their equivalent of a skull forever burned into his processor.

He turned away, looking up at the soft white clouds above. "Human savagery."

"What's that? I didn't hear you?"

"It's nothing."

You brush it off as him saying what he's thinking. You hope you can lay in a bed soon. Your body is bruised and aching from all the work you put it through.

"Calling all autobots, this is Optimus Prime, do you read?"

#fanfic #transformers fanfiction #transformers prime #transformers #bayverse optimus prime #cw: gore #dark topics #optimus prime

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loverhymeswith · 2 years ago

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Let's Be Alone Together || Part Four

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Tommy's revelation is cut short by an unexpected distraction

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: This chapter contains scenes of a violent nature, including a physical attack, blood, guns and gore. Please proceed with caution. Also, a probably poor description of inside the Shelby's betting shop.

A/N: Shout out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the love, support and whump-spiration💖

Masterlist

For half a moment, you think that Tommy Shelby is going to kiss you. His mouth - parted - is so close to your own that if either of you were to move forwards, even by just an inch, your lips would be touching.

So close, yet so far.

Because in the quiet of the betting shop, the two of you stand frozen; a tableau. Your hands, surprisingly steady, rest against Tommy’s broad chest, fingertips brushing the dark leather straps of his shoulder holster. His hands, surprisingly soft and warm, cup your jaw as he searches your gaze.

“Tommy…”

His extraordinary blue eyes widen, blinking rapidly. But it’s not the sound of his name as it falls from your lips that breaks whatever spell he’s fallen under. Somewhere in the back of the shop, a floorboard creaks.

Tensing beneath your touch, Tommy’s voice is low but urgent when he finally speaks. “Were you alone? Before I got here?”

Tentatively, you nod. Arthur had locked the door behind him before leaving earlier this morning. It’s inconceivable that anyone else could have been here with you - that you hadn’t been aware of their presence this whole time.

Isn’t it?

Tommy carefully releases you, his scar-flecked hands balling into fists as they fall to his sides. “Go,” he tells you in the same quietly compelling tone that leaves no room for argument. “Lock yourself in the office. Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

Deprived of the reassuring warmth of his touch, your head spins at the sudden shift in the man before you - the man now reaching for his gun. From curiously captivated to deadly calm - this is the side of Tommy you recognise. The side you have become accustomed to.

The man who protects his empire and his assets at all costs.

“Go.”

With little choice but to follow his orders, you abandon the wooden table in the centre of the room and hurry behind the metal bars that separate Polly’s office - and the cash boxes - from the rest of the shop. The gate shuts behind you with a heavy clang and with trembling fingers you lock yourself inside, pocketing the key.

Despite your line of sight being skewed by the bars, you watch uneasily as Tommy begins his sweep of the shop, one unwavering arm outstretched as he aims his gun into the dimly lit corners of the room.

Is it possible he’s overreacting, or is there really someone else here? Someone who doesn’t belong.

The thought alone causes you to falter, staggering backwards until you reach the far wall of the office. How long have they been watching you? What would have happened had Tommy not returned? Have you really been a sitting duck all this time?

With a start, you remember the gun. The small pistol Arthur had given you - an employment gift of sorts - stashed away in your handbag beneath the wooden table. If you could just make it out of the cage undetected… You’ve never fired the thing, but the intruder doesn’t know that.

Attentioned focused solely on Tommy as he slips through the curtains to check the rest of the house, you take a hesitant step forwards. Three more steps and you’ll be back at the gate. But before you can move another inch, something - someone - grabs hold of you from behind, dragging you away from the bars.

A rough hand smothers your mouth, stifling the scream you were about to let rip.

“Make a sound and my pal over there will blow his fuckin’ brains out.”

The voice, barely more than a harsh whisper, is unfamiliar and you freeze in the foreign grip, just in time to see a shadowy figure move beyond the bars. Damning evidence of Tommy’s impending peril.

“Atta girl,” your assailant mutters into your ear, his hot, damp breath making your skin crawl. “Now, you’re gonna do exactly what I say and no one has to get hurt. We just want the cash.”

Fear paralyses your body, but your mind is whirring, desperate for a way out. Because you recognise the northern accent. You know enough about the Shelby’s business dealings to understand that it’s far more than money these Yorkshiremen are after.

Power. Revenge. War.

If you stand here silently, they will murder Tommy in cold blood.

Despite the heavy breathing of the man holding you captive, you strain your ears for the faintest sound - any indication of where Tommy is or what he’s doing. If he comes back into the shop and finds you being held hostage, he’ll take aim at your captor and it won’t end well for anyone.

You can’t let it come to that.

With concern for Tommy clouding your judgement and no better plan emerging, you say a fleeting prayer to the god you no longer believe in and discretely raise your left leg, bringing your heel down with great force on your assailant’s foot.

The man yelps. The shock of the attack briefly loosens his grip, just as you’d hoped, allowing you enough room to wiggle out of his arms whilst simultaneously elbowing him in the stomach. As he doubles over in pain, you bolt to the gate, scrambling for the keys.

Get the gun. Get to Tommy. Get out.

From the furthest recess of the shop, you hear Tommy - alerted by the sounds of your struggle - shouting your name, his voice thick and rasping with panic.

“There’s two of them,” you yell back, no longer fearing for your own safety. You just need Tommy to be ok.

But there’s no response, and before you can unlock the gate, a hand clamps tightly around your forearm, hauling you away from the bars and spinning you around.

“You stupid bitch.”

The man lashes out, his palm connecting with your cheek in a wicked blow. Tears spring to your eyes as your skin burns, but you manage to stumble to the side, ducking unsteadily in order to avoid a second strike.

“Didn’t I warn you, eh? Didn’t want to spill blood today but looks like you’re leavin’ us with no choice.”

The hold on your arm is relinquished, only to be replaced almost instantly by the same hand clasping your neck, thick fingers pressing painfully into your windpipe until it’s difficult to breathe.

But apparently, this would be far too kind a demise. Because, moments later, you feel the telltale sting of metal as the cold, hard muzzle of a gun kisses your temple.

No. Not like this.

Where is Tommy?

As you grapple to free yourself from the tight grip around your throat in a panic-stricken haze, you recollect a lesson given to you by John all those months ago - half in jest - on the basics of self-defence: how to hit a man where it hurts.

If this is the end, at least you’ll go down fighting. Maybe they made a Peaky Blinder out of you, after all.

Your fingers scratch desperately at your assailant’s hands as he draws you closer, the dampness beneath your nails indicating that you too are capable of spilling blood. But it’s a mere distraction. He doesn’t notice you jerk your knee upwards in a violent fashion, as high as it will go, until it’s too late.

Seconds away from blacking out - or having your brains blown out - you hit the magic spot.

The man lets out an almighty grunt as he releases you, both hands flying to his crotch as he folds to the floor. Nothing less than sheer instinct sees you lurching forwards and wrenching the gun out of his weakened, bloody grip.

You’re panting now, every breath burning as you fight to fill your lungs and clear your head. You have the gun trained on the crumpled man, but the nightmare is far from over. Behind you, there are sounds of a skirmish. Grunting and shouting as Tommy wrestles with the second intruder, but mercifully no gunshots.

Without taking your eyes off your attacker, you slowly inch backwards until you hit the bars of the cage. The keys remain jammed in the lock, just as you’d left them.

“Tommy,” you yell, frantically. “Are you ok?” But the damage to your throat has left your voice hoarse, little more than a wheeze.

When Tommy - understandably - doesn’t reply, you risk a glance over your shoulder, just in time to spot him grabbing the stranger by his jacket and hauling him against the blackboard. The man might tower over him by at least half a foot, but he is no match for Tommy’s pure strength. As Tommy begins pummelling his fists into the man’s face, you dare to allow yourself a moment of relief and, barely registering the horror of the situation, you look away.

Returning your attention to your own assailant, you are startled to find that, like something out of your very worst dreams, he has risen. His hideous face twists into a cruel smirk as he approaches, his pace slow yet menacing.

“You ain’t got it in you, lass.”

Maybe he’s right. Your hands are certainly trembling as they tighten around the gun, the prospect of taking a man’s life suddenly very terribly real.

Kill or be killed.

It doesn’t make it any easier. And you’d had the nerve to call Tommy a coward. Maybe you should take a look in the mirror.

On second thoughts, better not. Because in one moment the man is standing before you, his arms outstretched and ready to attack. The next, there is a deafening bang and he slumps to the floor, his brains splattered on the wall behind him.

Stunned into stillness, you hear Tommy shout your name, his spent gun clattering to the ground. You’re vaguely aware of the cage opening behind you and the next thing you know, you’re collapsing into a strong, reassuring pair of arms.

“It’s over now. I’ve got you. It’s over.”

Tommy’s hushed words are a soothing balm as he gently turns you to face him, assessing you for injury as he holds you at arm’s length. Whatever he sees quickly causes his brow to furrow and his jaw to tense, his attention lingering on the bruises around your neck.

Through tear-stained eyes you meet his gaze - a frightening, ice-cold gaze - the kind of gaze that promises a swift and painful death to those who hurt you - except he’s already delivered that, hasn’t he?

In the waning afternoon light, you take the opportunity to study him, too. His shirt is stained red and a sheen of sweat covers his skin. The lengths of his hair are damp, slicked across his forehead. But despite being in such an unusual state of disarray, there’s no obvious sign of injury, except for a small cut above his brow.

Tommy’s fury passes and gradually, his expression softens. “I’ve got you, love. It’s ok. You’re going to be ok, you hear me?”

He starts to pull you closer as you nod mutely, but you feel something damp against your temple and you stiffen in his arms. When you touch a finger to your skin, it comes away crimson.

“Blood…” you murmur, somehow not as horrified as you know you should be.

Ever so slowly, so as not to startle you, Tommy takes your face in his hands just like before.

“It’s not yours,” he assures you, softly wiping away the evidence with his thumb, oblivious - or maybe not - to the fact that his own hands are already stained. “You’re ok, eh. We’re ok.”

“I couldn’t do it, Tommy. I couldn’t pull the trigger.”

“I know.” He lowers his head, until your brows are almost touching. “And that is nothing to be ashamed of. You did more than anyone could have asked for. I saw the way you fought back. The boys will be so proud of you. I am proud of you.”

You try to shake your head, still in his grasp. “It wasn’t enough.”

Because you should have been better. Quicker off the mark. You shouldn’t have frozen. You should have noticed earlier that you weren’t alone.

“It was more than enough,” Tommy tells you firmly. “You are more than enough. All this time, I’ve underestimated you. I thought it was you who needed protecting but now I see that I was wrong. I think maybe it was me this whole time.”

“What do you mean?”

In lieu of giving you an answer, Tommy leans in, finally closing the distance. His lips - surprisingly soft - brush over yours, a gentle caress and a silent request.

This time, you won’t hesitate. This time, you won’t freeze. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself onto your tip toes and deepen the kiss, distantly wondering if he’s right.

Maybe it has been him, this whole time.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #whump #let's be alone together

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mask-of-prime · 2 years ago

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VG: Something in the Water - PART 2

Weeks of rejoicing in the clear weather had lifted everyone's spirits. Taking advantage of the right weather, talks of Kiara and Kovu's official crowning as king and queen had made its way through the Pridelands. Dear friends and family were invited, including Kiara's brother, Kion, and his queen, Rani, who had not yet seen the Pridelands for herself.

The last few weeks consisted of rehearsals that both the royals and the Guard had to practice. However, in these same weeks, sudden, mysterious disappearances had taken place. It was recently found out that said disappearances had been drownings, as the unfortunate victims would be found risen to the surface of bodies of water.

The incidents made Simba and Nala wonder if maybe the ceremony once again had to be postponed, but their son and his friends were already on their way. Vitani and her Guard promised to investigate the situation with caution.

____

Today was the big day, the day of Kiara and Kovu's official coronation. It wasn't common for a predecessor to step down and watch their successor rise. For generations, it was tradition for the old monarch to pass away in order for their child to succeed the title. Simba wanted to see Kiara rule so he could someday join the Kings of the Past knowing that the kingdom was in good paws.

Simba believed Kiara was ready. Kiara, herself, however, was a nervous wreck. She didn't tell anyone except Kovu, who knew the feelings of the pressure of filling a role very well.

Meanwhile, Vitani and her Lion Guard flanked Pride Rock. They proudly watched as Kovu and Kiara walked up the ledge upon being called over by Makini, who had also made her return to the Pridelands.

During the ceremonial march, the Guard chatted amongst themselves in hushed voices. The clearing of the weather reminded them of the strange monsoon that had taken place for nearly a month, and a conversation came up where nightmares they'd all seem to simultaneuously have had come to a stop the minute the monsoon ended. Nightmares that all had to do with their youth in the Outlands.

Vitani felt correct in her theory that these dreams would occur every time it rained. She considered Tiifu's theory that the dreams had been trauma-related due to the scent and sound of rain. Lately, there was also the addition of these drowning incidents.

Did the stress of these investigations play into these nightmares, too? No matter what, It all seemed to involve water... No... That's too superstitious. That's jumping to conclusions... But, was superstition so out of the ordinary for one who possessed the Roar of the Elders?

"Lion Guard!"

The five lions in question looked to the sky. It was Anga.

She perched to their level, standing at Vitani's shoulder. The Fiercest lent an ear. Anga had told them she caught sight of a violent drowning incident near Misingi Falls.

Not another one... The Lion Guard left Pride Rock on yet another detective mission, hoping they could maybe save this latest victim. ____

"We should split up to shorten the investigation. We don't want to be gone too long before their official crowning." whispered Vitani.

The Guard obeyed the order, deeming it a sound idea. They all went their separate ways to inspect each area of Misingi Falls that they were assigned to. Vitani walked towards the grove that was on the way to the namesake waterfall, lost in the fond memories of falling in love with Tiifu in that very place. She hadn't noticed the mist rising from the ground. Mist that made her disappearance undetectable to the rest of the Guard.

Meanwhile, the sky seemed to grow dark unusually sooner than it normally would. It had been getting oddly dark for the past hour, now. Vitani gazed up at the sky, hoping it not to be any more rainclouds. It felt as if the sun was being blocked by something, but Vitani couldn't truly check without risking blinding herself. Overall, the phenomenon could not be more eerily-timed...

A noise from above scared Vitani out of her wits. She gasped as she jolted. She looked towards the source of the sound to find that it had only been an eagle owl, which flew away from its perch just then. It was confused by the sudden darkness of the sky, thinking it to already be evening.

Vitani chuckled to herself in relief and from the comedic timing for a mere owl to be there. She sighed after catching her breath, inspecting her surroundings to find that she'd wandered rather far from the group, unbeknownst to her, and apparently the rest.

All of a sudden, an all-surrounding, enticing hum rang through Vitani's ears. In order to get a better listen, Vitani followed the sound, not realizing she was, in fact, being involuntarily pulled towards the source of the song.

The song echoing in the mist sounded familiar... nostalgic... comforting... a lullaby Vitani once knew, one sung to her and her brothers in anticipation of victory and a new home. Though, it was unusually slow in tempo, with a somewhat unnerving, demented tone.

No matter... It made her feel like a child again...

She had to find the voice, it was calling to her. She continued to mindlessly make her way through the grove, stepping carefully through bushes as her head remained perfectly still, staring straight ahead.

She felt desire... desire that was being... deliberately preyed upon...

The owner of the voice was elated at the creature she caught this time. She was going to spare this one...

"Yes, come to your mother..." it crooned. She had her now... The Fiercest found herself slowly stepping into the pool at the base of the waterfall. The splash of her paws and the cold, wet sensation up her legs had snapped her out of her trance. She frantically looked around at her surroundings, not sure how she ended up at Misingi Falls. Her bewilderment was cut short when she saw a glowing form emerge from the waterfall. A familiar face eagerly grinned down at her.

"It's been too long, my dear..." Vitani was shocked, to say the least. The water had taken the form of her deceased mother. She knew that smile, that singsong voice, that petname she'd sometimes call her. It was her, it really was her...

"I... I couldn't agree more..." Vitani finally responded, choking up a bit as she smiled.

She quickly caught herself, wiping away tears that were just beginning to form in her eyes. She knew her mother would comment on her crying. It was unprofessional, immature, dramatic, she would say.

"Hah, sorry..." the daughter sniffled.

"Now, now," Zira's apparition purred, "it's alright. I'm here, now, and that's what matters."

Vitani spent a good while reeling from what was happening. She still wasn't sure if it was a dream, hallucination, something. She had seen ghosts, before, possessing the divine Roar of the Elders. She knew very well that it was possible. She felt her paws dig into the muddy ground under the rushing water, her mother's bellowing voice rattling her chest. The sensation was absolutely real, as far as she knew.

"You've really bulked up," Zira remarked, "and I see a certain marking on your shoulder. That's new..."

Vitani expected that, she'd always been prepared to hear her mother comment on her physical attributes. She did gain quite a bit of muscle mass in her upper body, making her resemble her mother all the more.

"Oh, Mother. You have no idea... So much has happened since you've been gone. I'm a leader, now. I'm in charge of the new Lion Guard, and we've been keeping Kovu and our pridesisters safe like you'd always hoped we would. You'll be proud to hear this, Kovu and Kiara, they're about to b -- "

"King and Queen of the Pridelands?" Zira's tone and face were unreadable, either intrigued or unimpressed. Possibly both.

"Y-Yes..." Vitani's soldier-like stance dropped as her head craned closer, "How did you know that...?"

"How else? It's like you said before, my dear; I have been watching you from the clouds." her voice barely contained a slight hint of a grudge, "I've been watching all of you. All. This. Time. I was there to watch you become corrupted by the Pridelander since you left me to die in favor of them..."

Vitani's mind flashed back to all of the rainstorms that took place since her mother's death, from the weeks-long monsoon to the occasional thunderstorms scattered throughout the past year. It all made sense. The strange dreams everyone seemed to have at a time, the faint whispers in the raindrops that Vitani could swear was the voice of her own mother's, her scent, the flashbacks... It had all played a part in something that the Lions of the Past were trying to tell the Roar-wielder for some time.

"But... shouldn't you have been with the Lions of the Past all this time if you lived in the clouds?"

"I did, until you conjured a Dark Roar and sacrificed one of your precious subjects to turn me into this vengeful spirit." "S-Sacrifice?" Vitani's eyes grew wide, "What are you talking about?"

"Does this look familiar?

Suddenly, something was being pulled out of the water under Zira's hydrokinetic control. A large, greenish-gray form was plopped down in front of Vitani, as if she were being presented a kill from a hunt. Vitani grew sick to her stomach.

It had been the bloated, rotting corpse of Ngurumo. He was barely recognizable, yet there wasn't a single scratch on him. It seemed as if his cadaver was protected from the predators that lived below.

"Take a good, long look, my child..." Zira deadpanned, seeming to disregard her daughter's visible distress.

"You're... you're a monster..." Vitani muttered, petrified.

"You made me, Vitani. You let your temper slip when you unleashed your Roar. I'm a monster -- BECAUSE OF��YOU!"

"No..." Vitani grew hot. She felt herself shaking as her heart began to pound. "Yes..." purred Zira, "Help me, Vitani. Help me, and I won't appear this way again..." Fear overcame Vitani. It wasn't like her to disobey her mother, but she could not stay here. She frantically trotted out of the water, and turned for the grove. "DON'T LEAVE ME! I AM WHAT YOU MADE ME!" Zira's voice echoed through the trees, not seeming to grow any quieter the further Vitani bolted through the confusing maze. Vitani ran for her life. Twigs snapped and bushes flattened as the lioness brushed through them. She could still her her mother, and felt like she was right behind her if she were to ever dare to look back. Just before the drop down the hill, Vitani hadn't noticed a large branch hanging about, near eye-level. She smacked her temple against it. It had only been the beginning of misfortune, as she made a painful tumble down to the hill's base. She landed on her back, out cold. Zira lost track of where Vitani had ran shortly into the chase. She stared on hatefully, feeling once again betrayed by her only daughter. She idly sifted the water that surrounded her, letting it softly rise and fall. Her hydrokinesis growing more powerful the more she stewed. Until... The blood that dripped from the branch that Vitani cut herself on began to move as well. Zira watched the droplets defy gravity like the water did. A low chuckle escaped her throat. A plan had been forming. She learned more and more of new ways to start total chaos with anyone she's ever known. Everyone who ever wronged her will now pay... ____ "Vitani? You okay?" said a muffled voice. The lioness on the ground blinked away her double-vision. The twelve -- no, eight? Four grayish forms became clearer. It was her Lion Guard, staring down at her with concern. "Uhhh..." Vitani moaned, squeezing her eyes shut from the pain on her temple becoming exasperated by the bright yellow sunset. "That was quite a tumble, dude." said Shabaha. "Hnngg... how long was I out...?" Vitani slurred. "Couple of hours." Imara replied. Vitani shot up, becoming more alert. "The ceremony! I-Is it too late?!" "The ceremony... kinda didn't happen..." Kasi cringed awkwardly. Vitani stood up, "What?" "Kiara panicked. Bad." Imara answered, "Ran back into the cave. When we got back to Pride Rock, everyone was checking on her." "When it started getting late, we noticed you were gone. We had Tazama locate you while we ran back home real quick. She stayed by you until we came back." Kasi said. "C'mon, Vitani..." Shabaha let her leader put her weight on her shoulder, "Gonna wanna get that thing patched up. I mean, might give Tiifu a panic attack on top of Kiara's, but... it's... y'know..." Shabaha's voice trailed off. Vitani absentmindedly nodded just before glancing back. She looked into the grove, gazing at the glow of the falls deep within. Did her interaction with her mother even happen, or was it all just a bad dream? She couldn't bring it up, now. Not with a gash on her head. No one would believe her... ____ ((Author's Note: Water Spirit Zira is finally revealed! Looks like Vitani's having a not-so-good (belated) Friday the 13th 😱. A MUCH fuller version of this story will be uploaded later on my Ao3, including that very summarized prelude as well as Kiara and Kovu's B-plot. Here, I just provided the portion of the story providing context for the thumbnails. Art Note: You may have noticed a strange phenomenon in the sky in the first image. This is a nod to an annual solar eclipse that happened today that both Americas had the opportunity to witness. Also, as you may have noticed, I did indeed do a paint-over of my one drawing of Water Spirit Zira when I first introduced her in her model sheet. I liked the drawing too much that I thought I'd adapt it into a more detailed, full image with her daughter included four years later.))

#The Lion King #The Lion Guard #Vitani's Guard #TLK #TLG #Vitani #Zira #My Art

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eri-pl · 6 months ago

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I read Book of Lost Tales 2: the Music of the Ainur continues

(the equivalent of Valaquenta: the post is not betaread, We Die Like Men And The Ainur Are Envious Allegedly???)

The language!!! "the Ainur marvelled to see how the world was globed amid the void and yet separated from it" ♥

Long post below cut.

Water is the best substance, and even in this version, there's echo of the Music in the seas. And also, Ulmo understands the Music best and is best taught in music. Manwë is the "greatest and most noble of the Ainur" (true), and Aulë is, well he is only a little more skilled than Melko. Gfmph, Rúmil, can't you just admit he's the humblest of all the Ainur? Because he is. I suppose much of the underestimating of Aulë is caused by the Noldorin cultural guilt and trauma of the whole exile thing. :f

We have the "Melko makes clouds, and it is not a problem because Manwë and Ulmo can be pals" scene that's also in Valaquenta.

the Ainur know so much of the future that few things are unforseen by them — yet there are some that be hidden even from those.

So they know more than in the Silmarillion, it seems? But also they behave in much more stupid ways. Huh.

some others, and among them many of the most beautiful and wisest of the Ainur, craved leave of Ilúvatar to dwell within the world.

OK, so the Ainur who came to Arda are on average the pretty and competent ones. Also, they wanted to go there and asked for it. Yes! I like this (iirc, in the Silm it's not explicitely said)

Also, compared to the Silm, Melko is somewhat more just plain lying that he wants to repair things. In the Silm it felt more like he's lying to himself too.

for he was wroth at those great gifts which Ilúvatar had purposed to give to those races.

This sentence isn't in the draft, interestingly (which to me suggests that it was added for metatextual reasons). Some remarks:

I love the phrase "was wroth", sir Thomas Mallory uses it too. "Was [adverb] wroth" is even better.

It's not just "he was envious", it's "he was so, so angry at it, he was throwing a tantrum like a badly behaved 5-year-old".

What gifts??? Professor, sir, you don't even clearly name any gifts that the Ainur don't already have… But I made a post about this already. And TBH with "was wroth", the new baby syndrome ("Why do those puny creatures get the same amount of free will and creativity and all that we have? And get to sing at the Second Music???") seems even more likely. Also, also, the teasing (see: previous post of the series. Which would answeer it, if I wasn't so busy being angry at the tone that Rúmil ascribed to Ilúvatar in there.)

anyway, *the soud of Eri throwing the full impact of that sentence away from her HCs* let's move on

Knowing all their hearts, still did Ilúvatar grant the desire of the Ainur, nor it is said he was grieved thereat.

This text is so dense, so much to comment on.

Still. OK, we may assume that the "still" is about Melko and his lackeys (who don't even exist in the text at this point). We may. Or we may assume that the Ainur getting there wasn't the best idea, but Ilúvatar let them anyway. I prefer the second option.

The "nor it is said he was grieved thereat" has (to my ears) the extremely diplomatic tone of "it's said that Aredhel wasn't fully unwilling", which… is a lot. It suggests that the Ainur going into Arda was a really bad idea. Which sure checks out and fits, but still it isn't the usual canon take on it.

BTW "thereat" is one of the wonderful words that I want to start using.

All of those who descend are called the Valar, there is no concept of Maiar yet.

There Melko ruled both fires and the cruellest frost, both the uttermost colds and the deepest furnances beneath the hills of flame ; and whatso is violent or excessive, sudden or cruel, in the world is laid to his charge, and for the most part with justice.

Mmmm idiot description pretty :D

Also, another reminder to everyone that, both here and in the Silmarillion, Melko(r) rules over both ice and fire (and dragons, and betreyals etc etc).

I don't get the "for the most part with justice". What do you mean, sir? that those things deserve to be ruled by Melkor? That he mostly rules over them in a right way, just sometimes not??? Huh?

To my list of words: whatso.

Also, in this versoin Ulmo rules over rivers and the outer ocean (the botomless water in which the landmass floats), the normal seas belong to Ossë. Also, Salmar, the most niche Maia of the Silm, is mentioned.

Aulë is not only a smith, he also deals with weaving, farming, husbandry and linguistics(!), and painting. He's just the arts-and-crafts guy! He teaches the Noldoli (=Noldor=Gnomes) "uncounted wealth of crafts, and magics and scienced unfathomed". Also, we get a quich foreshadow-mention of the Silmarils, because why not.

Manwë sits on the top of Taniquetil, and he doesn't see extra far by himself (or at least it's not mentioned), but he has hawks (not yet Eagles) who see far and bring him tidings.

Also, proto-Eonwë (Fionwë), and proto-Ilmare (Erinti) are the children of Manwë and Varda.

And Men love Manwë even more than mighty Ulmo, for he hath never of intent done ill to them nor is he so fain of honour or so jealous of his power as that ancient one of Vai. [=Ulmo]

OK. so Ulmo is a little problematic, it seems, or at least not very nice to Men sometimes. Manwë is, even in this version, sweet and did nothing wrong ever. Also, the "never of intent done ill to them" being an exceptional thing for a Vala… Early Legendarium, my… something. :D

Also, what's "fain of honour"? Can anyone explain it to me? The dictionary says "fain"="glad", but this does not help.

Manwë hath a splendour of poesy and song beyond compare.

I love this sentence so much! "Poesy" is such a beautiful word, much better than "poetry". Also, he's clad in sapphires. Not just a sceptre, but like full outfit.

Aaaaaand now it gets weird. Because we get the same "and then Ilúvatar was left alone and talked about the Gift of Men" scene that's in the Silmarillion and again we aren't told what is the source of this; who told that to Rúmil or to his fathers??? Manwë was not there!

I suppose Ilúvatar told Manwë later at some occasion.

Also also if the Men are given their thing now, why is Melko wroth on them earlier? I know that time flows strangely at this point, but come on.

Therefore he devised that Men should have a free virtue whereby within the limits of the powers and substances and chances of the world they might fashion and design their life beyond even the original Music of the Ainur that is as fate to all things else.

I think it's very much the same wording as in the Silmarillion. Which is still beautiful.

And then we get more talk about redounding. <3

Yet the Ainur say that the thought if Men is at times a grief even to Ilúvatar; wherefore if the giving of that gift of freedom was their envy and amazement

OK, so the Ainur gossip too, ok, makes sense.

But: Their envy? do you want to tell me that more than Melko was envious of Men getting their freedom??? That's quite a problematic behavior. Also, still I'd love to know when did the Ainur learn about this. Etc.

So we are told about the whole "Men leave Arda" thing (which the next chapter will somewhat negate), and, as a sidenote, Elves are reborn in their children. (I don't like this version.)

The Men will with cerainity join the Ainur at the Second Music, but it's not known what about the Elves, and even Melko did not find out (from this wording I assume that he tried).

I know this whole Gift of Men thing is difficult to merge with everything else and I shouldn't be making fun of the contradictions or picking at the details. But it's hard not to.

End of chapter.

#book of lost tales #silm #silmarillion #Tolkien legendarium #the silm #the silmarillion #bolt read-through #eri reads the legendarium #the gift of men #which everyone seems to want #except the men #well a lot of them at least #[if we disregard all the deepness of it; this is such a parenting mood tbh]#[i mean all kids hyping about a gift except the one who actually was given it]#melkor #aule #manwe #ulmo

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wolven91 · 1 year ago

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Drifting - Part 12

“Drop zone approaching. Get ready.” Called the dropship’s pilot from far up in a cockpit somewhere. Casper’s body was encased in his own pilot casket and felt none of the violent shaking and sudden drops as the craft rapidly dropped into the atmosphere, heating its belly until it glowed a brilliant orange.

However, the rig that the young man was piloting, still shook and rattled in its clamps. Thanks to the fearless sensations of piloting such a sturdy piece of machinery, unlike his body that was fallible; he never felt worry or fear from these worrying judders.The optics of the mech were already online and scanning the bay carefully. He’d zoomed in on the only other creature, a geckin, that was in sight too many times to count already. Casper shut off the optics as the geckin, unaware it was being observed, picked its nose before happily consuming the prize it had retrieved.

[Grim.] Casper sent, mildly annoyed that emotions never came across in the text-like messages the two pilots could exchange without speaking.

{What?} Qik returned, in a separate craft that likewise, was dropping into the combat area.

[Our benefactors. Just watched one put their whole ass hand up one nostril.]

{Yummy. Looked like your breakfast, didn’t it?}

The nutrient slop, or ‘slurry’ as they oh so appetisingly called it, was what Casper had to eat both in the morning and at night if he wanted to maintain his already drastically lowered weight. It had the consistency of the word ‘goop’ and, now it had been pointed out to him, the colour of geckin snot.

[I am literally never going to eat again.]

Casper didn’t get a reply, but clicked his optics with the feeling that Qik was laughing or grinning in her own rig at his words. They remained in silence for a minute more before the geckin Casper was watching touched a hand to his own ear before making his way to the exit.

“Inbound! Ten seconds!”

The digging geckin fled the room as moments later the floor beneath Casper’s feet opened and a roaring wind blasted up and into the space. The young pilot couldn’t tilt his body down, so most of his view was obscured by his own body, but he could see a dark, grey landscape far below what would be his dangling feet.

{I’m dropping after you, my original LZ is no good. Get eyes on the operation area, don’t approach yet.}

[Yes ma’am.]

{You’re going to make a fine merc.}

“Dropping!”

Despite not ‘having’ a stomach, Casper still felt a phantom one fall out from beneath him as the sturdy metal clamps that had held his rig steady during the transport, released him as one. Gravity took hold of him, along with inertia and both he and his rig were launched from the dropship at great speed toward an infinite ground. As soon as the mech was cleared, the craft did a sharp upward swing, arcing into the clouds and away from any danger that lurked below.

Casper kept himself upright as he fell despite feeling himself tilt forwards and backwards. Blue streaks of his boosters fired in short, sharp bursts, righting himself perfectly as he threatened to tumble. As he careened toward the pockmarked terrain at speed, the man checked he was coming in at an angle, roughly forty five degrees to ensure he could slide to a stop, bleeding his speed without pummelling the ground at full force.

It wasn’t a danger to do that, but he wasn’t specifically built for that.Some rigs could dramatically enter like that, and it was overall better for them to punch straight down, some even incorporating an air burst landing deployment, igniting the surrounding area of the drop point in an explosion that would merely liquidise the internals of anything organic in the area. Those rigs were super heavies, designed for ‘hot’ drops.

But that wasn’t Casper. He’d never wanted that style of machine. Zeet and he, along with Qik, had chosen from a wide selection of parts to create the mech that ‘felt’ closest to what he would be, if ‘he’, Casper, were a mech and not merely piloting one.

The result? As he fell, he felt light, like he could almost glide down if he wanted to. He felt as if one arrange twitch of his shoulder would get the same from his metal body.

He felt ‘right’.

It took a scant few seconds before his legs hit the terrain with such force it sent rocks and dirt flying all around in a great cloud that obscured him from suddenly awake and watching eyes in the distance for a moment. A fraction of a second later, those eyes watched a dark grey machine fly out of the dust cloud on skis, trailing smoke and dirt in its wake that followed it like vapour trails from a jet.

The mech skidded to a halt a hundred metres away from its landing site, its legs bracing into the skid and a series of three large blue cones of fire slowing him to a halt. It remained still, its two optic ports, scanning and watching the city where the unseen eyes watched it back, undetected by the interloper. The long blade in its hand was not ignored, the machine held it out to one side, the metal perfectly flat. The rain that hadn’t ceased in three weeks, merely pinged and beaded along the perfect edge.

The fisheye lens that was watching, clicked its aperture beforing zooming in rapidly and reading the stencilled text across the interloper’s chest, reporting it to its absent masters.

S P E C T R E

Meanwhile, Casper kept low. He used one hand to brace the front of his mech against the ground as he lowered himself further. Chances were, if there was anyone in the bombed out mega city in the distance, they would have noticed the giant walking mech falling from the sky and causing the same size dust cloud as a building falling over would.

Then again, they also could have dismissed his landing as another shell fired from the distant geckin artillery that had peppered the city with a sustained bombardment before he and Qik arrived for the last forty eight hours. The enemy wouldn’t know when the bombardment would stop, they could use this ignorance to gain a brief element of surprise.

{Spectre, I’m down and inbound. Anything?}

A friendly ‘blip’ began to grow in Casper’s perception. The motion radar, or ‘MR’, along with both ‘friendly’ signals still felt strange to Casper, but it was one of the aspects he had demanded from Zeet. A low profile for himself, but a more sensitive sensor suite for him. He wanted to see the enemy, but not have them see him.

What it meant was, he could ‘tell’ where something was, without needing to look away at a radar readout, or even flick his eyes to a compass with markers. A tiny advantage, but one that had already served him well, way back when he had first fought Qik.

At this time, there was no movement from the dead city.

[Negative Scrub. No one is moving.]

A red mech appeared at Casper’s side, its recon unit briefly turning his way, nodding before turning back. Qik’s mech, compared to Casper’s, felt clunky to the human now. It had none of the articulation his has. When he turned her way to nod back at her, his shoulder pulled back, his arm dropped a fraction. He was fluid. Her whole torso turned, her ‘head’ bobbed, then her whole frame twisted back. It wasn’t her fault, but now the man knew what to look for, he had access to whole other level of movement compared to hers.

She knelt, her body remaining upright, while he stayed low, his legs supporting him, but his whole body brought low by his efforts. His profile was far lower than hers. Still, she knew combat better than him.

He’d seen her in a fight through several of their training sessions. It was one thing to be able to move out of the way of incoming shots, it was another not to expose oneself in the first place.

Casper, or rather, ‘Spectre’ as was his code name on mission, focused up.

The pair of them began to systematically scan the seemingly dead city. Spires and towers were burnt out, some having toppled over. There were ssypno forces in the area, the geckin intel had explained that. Since ssypno equipment was high end and dangerous, it was harder for them to replace it.

Their job was to make this planet expensive for the noble conducting this battle. It was the only language that kind of person understood.

[Scrub, I got a question.]

{Go on.}

[Why ‘Scrub’ of all things?]

When Qik had offhandedly told Casper that her own callsign was ‘Scrub’ she was offended and confused when he barked a single coughing laugh before getting a reign on it. She was deadly serious and rather proud of her callsign. The young man, besides an errant comment, had left it there, but now felt as good a time as any to ask; why ‘Scrub’ of all things?

{Because I scour the battlefield clean. My ops are always described as the cleanest, unless I'm working with someone. They’re always the messy ones.}

[I’m just saying, humans might interpret it differently.]

{You said, but I didn’t spend my career building a name for myself to just change it on a whim. You read?}

[Aye aye Scrub.]

{Right, let's get this done and then we can get paid and you can get a taste of the good life. You ready?}

[When you are.]

Casper urged himself forward as he felt Qik’s ‘blip’ move away to the west, taking a wide route around the edge of the city itself. His ‘feet’ were elongated, turning them into skis that glided across the terrain with amazing ease. His spinal mount, a dedicated jetpack pushed him forwards with vents that could open and close in an instant, allowing him to adjust and change direction with a single thought. He could still walk and run, if he wanted to, but the idea was the ability to lean into the slide and ‘skate’ across the landscape, pushing against the ground with the side of his feet.

The speed at which the city approached and became large, imposing buildings that suddenly dwarfed him, was alarming. He slowed and dropped into a run, then walk, as he made it into the city proper, using the wide streets to fit his mech between the buildings with ease. He kept his blade held low, in both hands, ready to bring it up and swing at a moment’s notice.

Before reaching this planet, Casper had never held a weapon before, but now, with copious amounts of software all feeding him instincts and knowledge that wasn’t his, there was a vague sense of longing for a long range weapon, instead of being limited to the length of his blade.

That said, there was nothing for him to attack. He raised the blade to step around another building before lowering out and ready down the next street, but it was just, yet another, empty thoroughfare.

He didn’t need military software to tell when something felt… off.

[Scrub, do you read?]

{Loud and clear Spectre, what's the situation?}

[Zero contacts. MR isn’t picking anything up and there's nothing in the streets. No sign of any mechanised forces. Are we sure we’re in the right place? Are we getting played?]

Casper couldn’t help but think of the contract the geckins had forced him into. In a desperate need to get something more from the human and his unprecedented lack of drifting when mentally piloting a machine, the geckins had not taken it well when he had expressed he wanted to leave. So much so, the only way for him to ‘win’ his freedom, was to complete the op, without getting disabled. If he wasn’t able to walk away from the op, then the geckins, or more specifically, one of their corpo-nations would *own* Casper outright, changing his designation from a person, to a ‘thing’.

Whilst the geckins hated the ssypno with a passion, a trick or trap to retain access to Casper, might not be outside their morals.

{I wouldn’t put it past the geckins to try something, but if the op is a wash, then they still have to pay us and we’re free and clear. They wouldn’t have fed us bad intel for us to go out here for nothing.}

The Spectre mech peered down street after street, holding the blade out, ready to cut anything that moved or scuttled in half, yet each time; it was devoid of life until he found himself, quite deep into the city.

Closing his optics for a moment, Casper willed himself to send a ping out, searching for *anything* that might show where his enemy was hiding. All he needed as a fraction of movement.

He focused, his mind mentally tuning the sensitiveity of his radar, it sensed the rain, a beehive of noise that was too much, so with an errant twitch of his head, he tuned out the rain. He sensed himself, receiving false reports of a mech, but it was only him. He removed that too. Blind to the outside world, he stayed in place, reaching out with invisible hands, groping blindly for anything.

There were creatures, things that scuttled and things that moved. Living organic creatures of small size. They reminded him of rats, but no rats survived the destruction of Earth to his knowledge. The things were squidgits, vermin if left unchecked, cattle if desired. They scurried and hid in the sewers far beneath Casper’s mech’s feet. Oddly, whilst plenty of the buildings still had these creatures inside, several, were *devoid* of movement. Not a single living thing could be felt by his sensitive suites.

The optics snapped open, and clicked again. Turning his head towards the nearest towering building, he leaned forwards, trying to peer through the destroyed structure to the otherside, but found it dark and unable to see the whole way. This was only one of the nearby buildings that the squidgits avoided for some reason. The building was a husk, burnt out from some unchecked fire, most likely caused by the geckin shelling. The inside was too dark to see anything.

With a mere thought, a floodlight attached to Casper’s head, winked on and bathed the building and its bombed out floors in a brilliant white light.

The sea of cyclops eyes constricted to tiny points as the sea of fisheye lenses reacted to the sudden wash of bright light. In turn, the countless laser cannons strapped to their spines whined as electricity suddenly washed through them.

The MR was suddenly bombarded with with a crowd of movement as the buildings all around Casper came to life.Casper merely ducked as the space his mech had occupied only moments before was dissected by no less than seven beams, all wishing to decapitate him in one fell swoop.

[They’re in the buildings!] He sent frantically, as a wave of scuttling mechanised bots surged from the building and landed on his mech.

Not wanting them on him for a single second, Casper brought his arm up to protect himself and braced his shoulder. Spectre’s main booster, sitting firmly in the dead centre of his back, roared to life and launched the human’s rig into the building and out the other side in a shower of destroyed rebar and materials. The smaller multi-legged technicals were sent flying in all directions, having no hope of holding onto the mech as it punched through a building.

[Jesus!] Casper exclaimed as he turned his head back and watched the buildings suddenly come alive as each floor seemed to disgorge multiples of the round, bulbous, skittering machines in a manner that reminded the man of infestations from Earth. If his rig had skin, the young man was certain it would be crawling.

Remembering his sword, Casper swung it in a downward swipe along the edge of one of the buildings, cutting clean through two with zero feedback as his sword found zero resistance. The metal hulls sparked and fizzled before burning brightly as they fell despite the rain even as they hit the street below.

Bright lines of light lit up the air between the buildings and scorched down the front of Casper’s mech, leaving deep valleys of burnt metal in their wake. Gritting his teeth,a side vent snapped open and a gout of blue flames pushed his mech sideways by pure instinct, breaking line of sight with the swarm and preventing further damage.

{Spectre, report.}

[Contacts! Lots of contacts!]

{I see them, locking on but I need to see more. Just keep moving!}

[They’re crowding me, how are they this organised?!]

{They’re computers, no living crew. They seem smart, but it’s just a swarm. Stick to the plan!}

Casper barely made it to the next intersection where his rig could fit before he saw the bright yellow lines of the spider tank’s weapons cutting into the concrete like material of the surrounding buildings. He practically dove down the next street and picked up the speed again.

As he glided down the road, he saw yet more of the machines breaking through the exterior walls of the buildings and began crawling down towards the ground.

{Head west; towards me. Try and get as many as you can in one long line.}

[Wilco. One conga line, coming up!]

East, North, East, North, South.

Casper used his boosters to jump from corner to corner, flitting from side to side, avoiding and evading the growing crowd that was mere feet behind him. Any building, or even corner of a building that was in his way was destroyed. He felt like a cannonball, fired from its home and would merely bust through anything foolish enough to get in his way.

The bright streaks of line that burnt and destroyed the concrete around him only served to remind him that the enemy was still on his tail. Despite his confidence, he couldn’t let his guard down. Overconfidence would mean his and Qik’s destruction.

West, North, East, North, West.

When he turned down what had to have been a main artery for the destroyed city in the past, Casper could feel that Qik was roughly in front of him in the far distance, she was just on the very edges of his sensor suite’s range. Firing his boosters, his skis slid him down the road until the spider tanks began to pour onto the main thoroughfare from either side.

Using his sword in an upwards sweeping motion, he cut several through their centre mass, but it was a mere handful out of the seemingly endless hoard that was following. He speared several more on the tips themselves, not slowing his escape in the slightest.

From the distance, Casper watched as countless red lights suddenly appeared on the horizon in a beautiful dazzling sunburst. They hung there for a second before the lights turned into red streaks that raced up into the rainy sky, leaving behind white trails of smoke. They then seemingly paused before Casper’s entire early warning system lit up that he was in the direct path of this bombardment, his fiddling with his sensor suite had left him blind to such threats and had him duck in the very last second as they screamed towards their true targets.

They hadn’t been pausing in the sky, they were arcing towards him.

Spectre leaned forward, nearly toppling forwards, and willed itself onwards, increasing its speed until it began to pull away from the amazingly agile spider tanks.

Moments later, Casper could see the bright flashes of explosions somewhere behind him illuminate the surrounding buildings for a brief second. That didn’t matter. If it was behind him, it wasn’t hitting *him*. Relief washed over him as several of the moving, angry ‘blips’ that had been racing after him winked out of existence.

{Brilliant! Just got a few to mop up, but that was excellent!} Qik sent, as Casper rapidly approached where she waited at the city’s edge. From her bulky torso, several flaps opened as he approached and yet more of the red lights were launched from her. The lights were the burners for the rockets that streaked into the sky before taking a harsh turn and streaking into the city, where Casper suspected that they would rapidly meet some of the creepy, crawling tanks.

The Spectre mech shuddered as one, its various metal parts and hydraulics complaining with a loud crash. Scrub ponderous turned to face Spectre expectantly as the remaining targets seemed reluctant to approach, having had their numbers vastly cut down.

[I hate those things!]

{Yeah, MGUs or AATMGUs to be correct. Automated, all terrain mechanised guard units. Nobody likes them, they’re annoying to get out of an area because you have to expose yourself.}

The two machines stood there a moment, facing the city, scanning for any of the MGUs that decided to pop their head out. Whilst they were constantly scuttling, demanding both of their attention, they were staying out of sight for the moment.

{Thanks for being bait.} Qik sent without prompting. Having Casper’s head turn to face her.

[No worries, I knew you had my back.]

{Always.}

Casper was turning to look back into the city and question if they were going to have to mop up the remaining MGU when there was a flicker of a ‘blip’ in his mind’s eye. He had messed with so much of the sensor suite’s settings and was so focused on the city that he couldn’t make out what he was perceiving straight away.

He didn’t even get a chance to send the [What was that?] as a long missile streaked into the side of Qik’s mech, forcibly sending the rig into the buildings and launching Casper backwards with the force of the blast. He rolled in the air, having his legs go over his head, supported by the jets as they turned him rapidly until the bottom of his skis slapped against the ground again. Sparks and debris flew up into the air as his optics searched for the threat, all the while his sensors pinged Scrub.

Casper watched as a new machine, undetected by his own system until now, flew in from the sky. It had solid wings that jutted out of its back, but before he could even observe more of the aircraft, it flew low, close to the ground before it unfolded into a mech, skidding to a halt at the city’s outskirts.

Two study legs slammed into the asphalt of the landscape. Its arms unfurled and without saying a word or even hesitating for a moment, the two arms opened fire with a rain of flashing lasers that peppered the surrounding buildings and Casper’s mech with hits.

The strikes were damaging, several connections and wires were burnt and fused instantly, forcing Casper to reroute connections and energy as he spun away from the gunfire and slipped into the city. Pressing his back against the building that weathered the new storm from the new threat.

He turned his head and saw the smoking remains of Scrub, the mech that contained Qik. Her legs were missing and the torso portion was scorched all along one side. She had been through into a now collapsed building. She didn’t move.

[Qik?] He sent, dumbfounded as laserfire continued over the sound of sizzling rain.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #rabbit #lopeljack

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ogdoadfates · 5 months ago

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I'll be here CH #5 To comfort you

Aaaayyyyeee finally another chapter done! As always here is the AO3 Link

Vax was stressed, he could almost feel the wear and tear he was doing to Keyleth’s living room floor from all his pacing. He didn't know what to do, so in his panic he called Korrin, the only adult that he can trust, which isn’t that a whole thing to unpack later. Gods, he still can’t believe he has an adult he actually trusts again. Who in turn told him to come to his house while he went out to find Vex. Keyleth watches him and checks her phone every few seconds to see if her dad has any updates.

Tears were constantly forming at the sides of his eyes as the fear, rage, and anguish boiled within him like some toxic stew. What was she thinking? Bringing a dog into the house, even if she’d been able to keep it under his and their fathers nose for this long, what would have happened if it’d been father and not him that arrived home earlier than planned? His body gives a violent shudder as his brow furrows in angered frustration. It’s best to not focus on that what if.

And where could she have gone? He searched for hours before his desperate plea for help, he told Korrin a few ideas before he left but what if she wasn’t there? What if something happened? Vax didn’t realize he’d started to hyperventilate till he felt a tug at his sleeve, stopping his feverish pacing to stare with shaking eyes and breath at forest green eyes.

“He’ll find her Vax, he won’t stop till he has.” Somehow Vax believes her but he can’t shake the fear, it’s always there in the back of his mind where it festers till it explodes when situations like these happen, where shit hits the fan and he tries to force himself not to crumble. But staring at those green eyes and hearing her soft tones of reassurance break him.

He doesn’t know who pulls who into the death grip of a hug first, just that he’s buried his head into the crook of her neck, his tears finally falling and cascading down his face and onto her pale freckled skin as one of her hands buries itself into his hair to help sooth him. She whispers words of assurance to him as they lower themselves to the floor when his legs start to shake from his silent wails.

Tonight's been too much and he can’t help but bodily flinch when both Keyleth’s and his own phone simultaneously chime. “It’s okay.” She assures him as she grabs the nearest phone, his, checking whatever message it is. “He’s found her, he says they’ll be here soon.” The tear stained boy lets out a shaking breath as he nods in understanding into her. “We should probably tell the others, um, uh.” Her sudden stutters cause him to finally look up, her phone is back on a table near the chair she had been originally sitting in before she’d come to comfort him and he is kind of preventing her from moving. But he doesn’t want to be separated, he doesn’t want to be alone.

“It’s mine and Vex’s birthday, my password.” He doesn’t need to say more than that but he does feel her slightly freeze at how much trust he just put into her. Gods if only she knew he’d trust her with so much more than simply his phone's password.

Hesitantly she unlocks it, giving a quick response to her dad to notify him they saw his message before going to the group chat.

Vax: Keyleth here, my dad found Vex, he’s bringing her back to our house.

Pike: Oh thank the gods, me and Grog were just about to go wake up poppop to help search.

Percy: Is she alright?

Vax: From what my dad said she’s fine, they just have to do a few stops before they head back, idk why.

Scanlan: I know this is serious and all, an I’m fuckin glad she’s alright but DAMN is it weird seeing the message ‘my dad’ coming from Vax’s phone.

Pike: Yeah, wait why are you on Vax’s phone? Aren’t you guys at your house?

Keyleth chooses to close Vax’s phone not wanting to deal with coming up with a response to that and Vax can’t help but let a small smile crawl upon his face in mild amusement at the sudden slight red flush that overcomes the red head's face.

It’s when they hear the garage door open that they truly registered the position the two of them had been in all this time, the two wrapped in a hug on the floor with Keyleth in his lap. The two blushed furiously as they quickly separated from each other, Keyleth getting off the floor first. Face still beet red she stammers before walk running to the garage door, Vax finally getting up from the floor, his cheeks still slightly rosy as the door opens revealing a still slightly drenched Vex, Trinket, and Korrin.

The man gives the two of them a soft small smile as Keyleth rushes to hug Vex, Trinket giving off a soft woof before starting to sniff Keyleth from his position in Vex’s arms causing the tall girl to giggle and acknowledge the pup. Vax stares at his twin as she keeps her gaze away from his, Korrin disappearing back into the garage. He doesn’t know what to say so he just walks over to her, the silence is awkward and it causes Keyleth to shuffle her weight from foot to foot in her anxiousness.

“Keyleth, can you come help me please?” Korrin’s voice rings through the tense silence. The red head looked between the twins before disappearing into the garage.

“You okay?” Vax’s voice is almost a whisper but he knows she’s heard him when she nods. A deep sigh releases from his body taking some of the hollowness that claimed a home in his body with it. “Where..” He couldn’t finish his sentence, the only sound between them for the next few minutes being the low murmurs of Keyleth and her father talking in the background and Trinket’s soft pants.

“I was outside work. I know, not my smartest decision but I don’t know.” His twins voice is soft and almost defeated, the sorrow in his soul grows knowing he was in a way a contributor to her current sorrow. He couldn’t even muster up the strength to feel the frustration with how she ran to a place that she herself has said wasn’t all that safe, but he has no room to talk.

“I’m sorry.” The two of them say simultaneously, causing the two to go wide eyed at each other.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.” Somehow Vex’s face drops even more with sadness at his words.

“No, Vax I shouldn’t have hidden this from you, you might’ve even been able to help me with him if I’d told you.”

“Vex-” Before Vax can finish his sentence a large squeak was sounded causing Trinket to wrestle out of Vex’s grip and run into the garage, causing the siblings to bolt after him just in time to see him barrel into Keyleth who’d been picking up some sort of dog toy from what they can see. She falls over laughing as the puppy tries to wrestling the squeaky toy from her grip, Korrin’s laughter mixing in as he heaves a giant bag of dog food from the trunk of his car. That's when Vax finally notices the collar around Trinket’s neck.

“I think we might need a little more help.” The man chuckles, Vex chuckling lightly as she comes over to help Keyleth with Trinket. As Vax approaches he sees the trunk of Korrin’s car filled to the brim with dog supplies.

Gods this man never fails to surprise him.

#critical role #keyleth #criticalrole #vax'ildan #vax #vaxleth #criticalrole fanfic #critical role fanfiction #vex'ahlia #percy de rolo #pike trickfoot #scanlan #korrin of the air ashari #highschool au

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pfhwrittes · 7 months ago

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💚💚 here!

This week felt so long 😪 I need a good nap and a hot beverage.

Questions for you:

What are each member of the 141's cuddling styles? Who has the most comfortable chest or bicep? Who's going to shove you out of bed in their sleep?

I'm a horrible person to cuddle - I've sent my partner flying multiple times with a well-placed hip check in the middle of the night. He has taken to waking me up from a distance if necessary because I wake up swinging 😭 I don't want to hurt him - it's like my body is filled with sudden violent rage when I'm woken up unexpectedly, and it responds without thinking 😭😭😭

What would each member of the 141 do if they had a partner that woke up violently?

I hope you're doing well!

hiya friend! i hope you got your nap and hot beverage combo!

this ask is perfectly timed because i've shared a bed with someone this week and i have some rather personal inspiration for my headcanons. admittedly they're mostly based on my behaviour than the person who shared my bed but i digress.

first of all, these men run HOT. forget wearing anything at all other than the thinnest of sleep clothes around them because otherwise you'll wake up sweaty and dehydrated like you've been left to bake in an oven for 45 minutes at 220C.

secondly, they all claim to be the best bed time cuddlers (except simon who fervently denies being a cuddler at all). they are lying liars who lie. none of these men are without sin.

What are each member of the 141's cuddling styles? Who has the most comfortable chest or bicep? Who's going to shove you out of bed in their sleep?

ghost denies being a cuddler. he does not Cuddle. he does not Snuggle. as far as he is concerned he sleeps on his back with 6 inch gap between the two of you. this is a lie.

yes, ghost always starts on his back and holds your hand as he drifts off but as soon as he hits REM sleep he's rolling onto his side to curl up behind/beside you to be the Big Spoon and burying his face into the back of your neck. at some point an arm will be slung over your hip or stomach and you will be pinned in place.

however, he is also a light sleeper so if you push at him or wriggle away to escape the snoring he will flop back onto his back and give you room to move.

price is a side sleeper and snores like a bull. there is no rest for you if you are the Little Spoon. it's okay though because he will roll over to sleep on the other side and you can snuggle up behind him and burying your face in between his shoulder blades. if you slip an arm over that deliciously hairy stomach he'll hold onto your forearm.

however, pulling away is a challenge. he'll roll with you so he ends up sleeping on his back but the good news is that you can rest your head on his fuzzy chest and enjoy the pillowy softness of his tits. the downside is that you'll get chest hair up your nose at some point and that shit tickles like a motherfucker.

gaz needs bedtime cuddles. he has a whole routine planned out for maximum comfort. two pillows each, bonnets on for the both of you, then he's making sure you have one leg slung over his and your head is resting on his chest as he smooths a palm over your ribs and hip.

gaz is a sleep talker. sometimes this is hilarious (he's had arguments with soap in his sleep), sometimes this is harrowing (he's casually informed you that a man is standing over you with a gun more than once).

gaz also is a blanket stealer. at some point in the night he will roll over and take the sheets/duvet with him and you'll have to wrestle it out of his grip to get 1/3rd of the covers back. you've suggested separate sheets and duvets to him more than once and even got so far as to put them on the bed, but somehow they always disappear when it's time to settle down for the night.

soap is a clingy octopus that wriggles his way down your body so he can rest his head on your chest. wherever you go, he follows. he needs to touch you at all times and yes, this means you've been pushed out of bed more than once by soap.

unfortunately, soap also has an unconscious reaction to squeezing whatever parts of you are in his hands when REM hits. you've banned him from having his hands on your chest after he yanked on a nipple as you were drifting off and you yelled loud enough to wake the neighbours.

What would each member of the 141 do if they had a partner that woke up violently?

all of them are pretty understanding given the nature of their jobs. god knows, they've woken you up plenty of times by sitting bolt upright calling for an emergency exfil.

surprisingly, gaz is the one who forgets about your tendency towards violence upon waking the most and has caught a stray elbow to the solar plexus more than once. he knows you don't mean it and always soothes you when you apologise groggily with a kiss to your forehead even if he does tease you afterwards.

#💚💚 anon #pfh answers #pfh headcannons #sr #jm #kg #jp

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pockykierra · 2 years ago

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The Drive Home From Tadfield (based on @vavoom-sorted-art's comic

Go check out her comic, her art is so lovely! Both chapters out now.

The first chapter is SWF, the second is all NSFW, for anyone who wants to skip it/skip right to it 😏 Thank you @vavoom-sorted-art for letting me write a fic about your art! Here's a little sneak peak of Chapter One:

For a good few minutes, they fell into silence. They watched the setting sun pour beautiful light through the Bentley’s windows - yet another thing Crowley would miss when the world was gone. A demon wasn’t supposed to admire a lovely sunset - and certainly not a lovely angel - yet, on numerous occasions, he had found himself doing just that. Appreciating the beauty of the world he lived in.

The world that would soon destroy itself through divine and occult influences. Wasn’t that wonderful? All the things Crowley and Aziraphale loved - the people, the drinks, the food, the sunsets, the cars - gone. Turned to dust before their eyes.

Aziraphale would scold him for it, but Crowley couldn’t help but keep glancing at him from the corner of his eye. With his glasses, it was a difficult task, but he managed for a good few minutes without cluing Aziraphale that his eyes weren’t entirely on the road. He could see thoughts and ideas churning in the angel’s head, each twitch of the nose or flicker of the eye a new one - but from the dour expression on his face, none were leading anywhere.

Crowley supposed that was better than what he was doing, which was focusing entirely on Aziraphale and not on ways to fix the up-and-coming Apocalypse. It was hard not to be when the angel looked so beautiful in the oranges and reds of the setting sun, his pale hair turned to fire and his eyes sparkling like stars in the burning light. He was - as the angel had said himself - ethereal. Wondrously, ridiculously radiant, and so full of light that Crowley could bask in for the rest of their days. Even if said days were now quite limited.

Crowley’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together in a way that would have been painful for the average human. He had been trying not to think of it, focusing instead on losing his car and his humans and his alcohol, but deep down, he knew what the end of days truly meant losing - Aziraphale. No more dinners at the Ritz watching the angel savor every bite, no more late-night drinking sessions at the bookshop, and no more Arrangement. They would be - at best - separated for eternity and - at worst - forced to fight in the coming war.

The Bentley swerved violently in reaction to Crowley’s thoughts; the angel beside him let out a tiny, barely-there gasp but said nothing about the sudden veer. Crowley glanced over at him, a pain like nothing he had felt before aching in his chest. He couldn’t fight Aziraphale. He wouldn’t. He would sooner throw that ridiculous tartan thermos of holy water he had hidden away onto himself - which, contrary to what Aziraphale thought, had never been the plan. But he would do it in a heartbeat for the angel beside him.

From the corner of his eye, Crowley could see Aziraphale was still staring intently out the window, now looking to be thinking even harder about something. What it could be was hard to tell in the fading light of the sun, now mostly disappeared beyond the horizon - setting for, possibly, one of the last times.

Just another reminder of their fading moments together.

Unable to resist, fueled by panic and desperation, Crowley reached out and palmed Aziraphale’s thigh, grasping it like a lifeline. He was a demon weak for the pleasures in life, and his chances to have them were dwindling to nothing. Crowley and Aziraphale had spent years orbiting each other, never getting close enough to come together - and he was tired of it. He had gotten a taste of that tempting closeness earlier when Aziraphale had dared to call him nice, and Crowley pushed him up against the wall in retaliation. It was meant to be threatening, but from the way Aziraphale’s eyes had lingered on him as their bodies pushed together, it had been anything but. Thinking about anything else since then had been difficult - besides, of course, the oncoming death of the Earth.

Crowley figured - best to do something now while there was still something to do.

His hand tensed on the Aziraphale’s thigh, fighting everything in his body to keep his face neutral as the angel stared at him and contemplated what he felt about this new development. Crowley didn’t want to pull his hand away, but he would if Aziraphale asked.

He would do anything for him.

Check out the story here!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens fanfiction #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #pkfanfics #fanfiction

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intertexts · 1 year ago

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@stuck-in-the-ghost-zone WOE. NHW TRIGGER EVENTS BE UPON YOU.

-dakota was young-- maybe a bit older than in canon-- & out in the city with his parents when they all got caught in the collateral of an attack by some member of the slaughterhouse 9 (my impulse is siberian or one of the other messy ones) & dakota got lost and separated from them. the emotional state associated with his trigger isn't really even the horror of finding what was left of them. it was before that-- the sudden terror and panic and desperation of losing them and searching for them and not being able to find them in the crowded, violent packed rush to get away. he was up close to the fight when the heroes got there because he wouldn't leave without his parents (he's like. nine years old!! of course he won't :( ), close enough to be sprayed with hot blood, & saw firsthand the wanton violence and gore of it all & was half terrified because of it & also because he just saw her gut someone like cutting through soft butter. and he can't find his parents. that bone deep terror of oh, i'm *alone* & knowing that something dreadful is happening and you're not there and you don't even know where it is or where to be but you feel it in your gut. there isn't a thing in the world he could do to find them or help anyone. that was it. & also the other big part of it is how fucking sudden and out of nowhere it was. one minute you're having an awesome afternoon n the next minute it's a waking nightmare.

--virion saw his father betray the rest of his team in cold blood. he grew up around capes-- his parents both headed the independent team the greats, & the rest of them were always around the house n helped raise virion his whole life. he had so many cool aunts and uncles who did awesome hero work with his parents!! think new wave if it wasn't a torment nexus. he was never allowed out with them, except on patrol sometimes, but he never really had a burning desire to be a cape? he enjoyed being on the other side of it-- they all taught him how to shoot and fight hand-to-hand and resist mind shit & all of the unpowered parahuman response type shit, everything they knew so he could take care of himself. it was good. eventually he started sneaking out to watch their fights & shit, see what they do and how they do it. as much as he didn't want to be a cape, he couldn't just sit and do nothing! the last fight he snuck out to watch was the final confrontation between them and the real, dangerous warlord embedded deep into their city-- the lich. he shouldn't have come. it was so dangerous. they'd have been so mad. he saw their big confrontation and all the bluster and everything. saw his dad shrug and apologize to their family and toss down his weapons. it was a trap, of course, and the first time virion ever wished he had powers, realized how fucking useless his pistol and taser and flares were useless in this situation. he watch, helpless, as they all were quickly and brutally and unceremoniously killed, so efficient that the lich must have studied them for a very long time. or had inside information. he triggered from the bubbling cocktail of visceral betrayal and horror and wanting, above all, to have the power to do something, anything to help his family-- wishing, for the first time, that he was like them, and being frozen powerless.

--william is a bit more complicated (partly bc i want to learn more about deadwood and double check that all my assumptions r correct) but he triggered from the isolation. living somewhere that hated him, where it felt like there were threats in every tree, every aisle of the ancient grocery store, always something awful and malevolent behind him. & the social isolation too, especially. being alone and mostly friendless and wanting to get out, not sure if the awful things he's seeing are real or not, if he's just irreparably fucked in the head or he's living in hell, or what. everyone thinking he's fucking crazy. that always being the only thing he's ever known. anyway. he fell. i still have ambiguous thoughts as to the intentionality of it, as in canon. he didn't die, here, though. just-- mostly died. landed fucked up, bone poking out where it shouldn't and stuff, couldn't move. lay there for hours, knowing that no one would come, knowing that deadwood was still fucking toying with him even as he lay numb and in excruciating pain and bleeding out. anyway he triggered when they found him. <3 & yes it is extremely important that it was when they found him, not before. do u get what i mean?

#THIS IS TOO LONG FOR AN ASK PROBABLY. HI <333 #new haven wards #ouagh. i could talk ab this for hours...... this was so fun 2 type out. the wyoming mountains say hi btw <333

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overcaffeinatedsoul · 1 month ago

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Dilemma

The air inside the cafe was timeless, thick with the comforting scent of roasted beans and aged wood. It was a Sunday evening, 29th of February, 2032. Outside in Tokyo, the city buzzed, but within these walls, there were no windows to betray the hour or the weather. Vintage memorabilia lined the shelves – a rotary telephone, a clackety typewriter, toys from forgotten decades – each piece whispering stories of epochs past, oblivious to the present.

My daughter, Eclipse, was turning one – technically, her first actual birthday in four years. Born on a leap day, her unique arrival always felt like a touch of magic, a tiny paradox in our lives. While she and my wife, Ezra, were back in Manila, I was here in Tokyo on a work trip, determined to mark the occasion in my own way.

I found my usual table, tucked away in a corner, and noticed something new: a letter 'E' that looked freshly carved into the wood. I ran my finger over the clean lines, a small, curious detail. A waitress brought my order – a hot macchiato and a simple piece of chocolate cake. I lit a single candle on the cake, its small flame flickering in the cafe's muted light.

Pulling out my phone, I started a video call. Ezra's beautiful face appeared, followed by Eclipse's wide beaming smile.

"Happy birthday, my little leapling!" I said, holding the phone so they could see the cake.

"Thanks, Dad!" Eclipse cheered.

Ezra smiled, "Wish you were here."

"Me too," I replied, my voice thick with emotion. "But we'll celebrate properly when I get back. For now... let's sing!"

Together, we sang "Happy Birthday." I blew out the candle, feeling a familiar ache for the distance separating us, but also a deep warmth from this small, shared moment. We chatted for a few more minutes, updating each other on our days, before saying our goodnights.

Leaving the cafe felt like re-entering a different world. The vibrant, bustling energy of Tokyo night was suddenly overwhelming. And then, I saw it – a commotion just down the street. A young man was loudly cornering a girl, his voice sharp and aggressive. Instinct took over. "Hey! Leave her alone!" I shouted, striding towards them.

The man, startled, then hurried off into the crowd. I turned to the girl, checking if she was alright.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to sound calm.

She nodded, brushing herself off. "Yes, I think so. Thank you. Truly, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," I replied, feeling a bit awkward. "Just... be careful."

She reached into her small bag. "Please," she insisted. "Take this. If you ever need help, any kind of help at all, just call this number."

She pressed a sleek, black calling card adorned with a mysterious logo — a ring of light with six inscrutable numbers. Weird, yes, but the moment had been intense, and I simply pocketed it.

The next day, Monday, March 1st, 2032, I found myself drawn back to the same cafe. The scent of coffee, the vintage charm – it felt like an anchor after the previous night's incident. I ordered my macchiato and sat at the 'E' table, losing myself in the quiet atmosphere.

Then, it happened. A sudden, violent jolt. The floor seemed to ripple, the furniture groaned. An earthquake, I thought, bracing for the typical Tokyo tremor.

But when the shaking subsided, perhaps a minute later, I opened my eyes to... nothing. No spilled coffee, no rattled cups, no wide-eyed patrons. Everyone was exactly as they had been before the tremor – reading, typing, chatting quietly. It was as if I was the only one who had felt it.

A prickle of unease turned into cold dread. I walked over to the counter, my legs feeling shaky.

"Excuse me," I said to the barista, a young man with trendy glasses, "did you... did you feel that just now? An earthquake?"

He looked at me, a slight smile playing on his lips. "An earthquake, sir? No, everything seems quite calm. Are you feeling alright?"

I wasn't. As he spoke, a sickening lurch twisted in my gut. It wasn't like dizziness; it was worse. A terrifying physical sensation, like my very atoms were being pulled in opposite directions, like my body was... splitting.

Panic flared, hot and immediate. Splitting, I thought, remembering the feeling. Need help. The black card flashed in my mind. My eyes landed on the antique rotary phone sitting on the counter as part of the decor. Driven by instinct, ignoring the barista's questioning look, I grabbed the heavy receiver, fumbled out the black card, and quickly dialed the six numbers. 2-9-0-2-2-8

It rang only once before a girl's voice answered. It sounded familiar.

"Hello?"

"Hey! It's... it's the guy from last night! The coffee shop! On the street! I... I need help! Something is happening to me!" My voice was breathless, frantic.

"Calm down," she said, her tone surprisingly steady. "Describe what you're feeling."

"I feel... I feel like I'm splitting," I stammered. "Like my body is coming apart. It's terrifying."

There was a brief pause on the other end. "Splitting? No. You're not splitting." Her voice lowered slightly, almost a whisper. "You're slipping."

"Slipping?" I repeated, utterly confused.

"Yes," she confirmed. Then she added one more word, a word that made the impossible seem suddenly, chillingly real. "Time."

"Time slipping?"

"Exactly," she said. "It's your first time. You need to concentrate. You can control the destination. Focus."

"Destination?" I asked, my mind reeling. "Where should I... where should I go?"

"Not where," she corrected. "It's when."

"When?"

"Yesterday," she said. "February 29th, 2032. 1:43 PM."

February 29th, 2032. The day of Eclipse's birthday celebration. Despite the absurdity, the desperation I felt was absolute. Closing my eyes, I focused with all my might, picturing the date, the time, the feel of the cafe yesterday afternoon. February 29th, 2032. 1:43 PM.

When I opened my eyes, nothing seemed to have changed. The barista was still calmly wiping the counter, the patrons still sat undisturbed. The dizzy, splitting sensation had vanished, replaced by a profound sense of confusion and disbelief. Had I hallucinated it all?

But then I turned back towards my table. And she was there. The girl from last night, sitting at the 'E' table, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips, as if she'd been patiently waiting for me.

"How was your first time slip?" she asked softly, gesturing for me to sit down.

I just stared, dumbfounded.

"Still confused?" she prompted gently. "Look." She motioned to the table. "It's just a normal table, right?"

I looked. It was. The E that I'd seen earlier wasn't there.

Then, deliberately, she picked up a small, sharp object from her pocket – it looked like a modified stylus – and began to carve the letter 'E' into the wood, right before my eyes.

The pieces clicked into place with a sickening lurch. The 'E' I'd seen yesterday evening, the one that looked freshly carved... she had just carved it. At 1:43 PM. I had time-slipped. The earthquake hadn't been an earthquake; it had been the temporal displacement beginning. The barista hadn't felt it because, for them, it hadn't happened then and there. I had slipped back in time, hours before my past self arrived for the birthday celebration.

The girl finished the carving, the sound a tiny scrape in the quiet cafe. She looked up at me, her expression now serious.

"It's starting," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "The world... it's ending."

My blood ran cold. "The world is ending? How? What's causing it?"

"Not what," she said, her voice low. "Who."

“Who then?” I pressed.

"Me," she said simply, her smile fading completely. "I am the reason the world ends."

I stared at her in disbelief. “What do you mean? How can we stop the end of the world?”

"I need you to time slip again. Back to November 15th, 2015." she said, her gaze steady.

The date hit me like a physical blow. November 15th, 2015. It was a date etched into my memory, a turning point in my life. "But why can't you do it?" I pleaded. "You obviously can time slip!"

"Only within my own lifespan," she explained, a sad irony in her words. "I was born in 2028. The end comes in 2052. I can't reach back to 2015. It has to be someone who was alive then. Someone for whom that date is... significant." She looked pointedly at the "E" on the table. "Someone whose history is tied to that moment."

My mind reeled. "What does that... you want me to do..." The horrific implication dawned on me.

“You must go back to November 15th, 2015,” she said. “That’s the day you met your wife, Ezra. You need to prevent that meeting from happening.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “You’re my daughter, aren’t you? From the future.”

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. “And to prevent the end of the world, I must not exist.”

The girl sitting before me, the one who had just guided me through my first time slip, the one who was asking me to erase her existence... was my daughter from the future. Eclipse.

“Isn’t there another way?” Tears pricked my eyes. “Please, there must be another way!”

"There is no other way," she said, her voice heavy. "I've tried everything. Slipping to other points, trying to alter the events leading up to it... nothing works. You meeting mom is the nexus point. The only way to sever the chain."

The weight of her words was crushing. Here I was, standing in a seemingly timeless coffee shop, faced with an impossible choice.

“Dad," Eclipse took my hand, her voice trembling, "please. You must do this.”

The weight settled upon me – the fate of the world, a future I couldn't comprehend, rested on a single, impossible act. To save the world, a world that included my daughter, I had to prevent the possibility of her existence in the first place. To extinguish the light of my family to preserve the light of humanity.

The choice was impossible. An unbearable agony ripped through me. Save the world... or save my family?

Tears streamed down my face, mirroring hers. The raw, primal instinct of a father warred with the terrifying responsibility she was placing upon me. The coffee shop felt suddenly suffocating, the vintage charm a cruel mockery of the catastrophic future she described.

In that moment, faced with the most horrific decision imaginable, no matter the stakes, my heart already knew the answer.

#kwentong kathang isip hango sa tunay na pangyayare

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