#Mod failed to draw duck.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lordsofthevideowasteland · 6 months ago

Text

Threw a stripped down version of my forever WIP Video Wasteland RPG system in a blender with my medieval horror skirmish wargame system to create a video wasteland dungeon crawl called TAPE HUNT.

In this game, essentially, urban pirates in the eternal city of 1980s gangsploitation movies raid burned out industrial estates while high on magic drugs to nab interdimensional artifacts to sell to collectors. These artifacts are a lot of the time anomalous 35mm film or VHS tapes.

So i did about a days work on the system and playtested it and this is how it went.

Rolled up 3 hunters.

2 pitfaces (think urban punk gangbanger Knights), and an Abstract Exile (refugees from a more arthouse world). The pit faces are named Raver and Mashley and the Exile is named Lynch. Lynch has the head of an Ibis.

entered the building, explored the first 2 rooms,

Start drawing the map tile by tile, nothing crazy happens. Take a right, am hit with the the first sanity check- i give it to Raver, she fails, so the gang rolls up an anomaly- a silent hill 2 esque stairway into the darkness, dying sirens blaring in the night as they descend. This immediately increases the Threat Level to 2 before we've even entered the first skirmish.

Below they found an abandoned tapehunter camp, where they looted a full auto rifle which was handed to Mashley, one of the pitfaces who was only armed with a battle modded chainsaw and shurikens.

the camp was also haunted, but the haunted debuff was removed by the second pitface, Raver, who had taken the ability "fuck that spooky bullshit, man"

moving on to the next room, the first combat erupted. the tape hunters were surrounded by 3 BIO ZOMBIEs, 1 armed with a Riot Scythe, one with it's own Severed Puking Head, and the third with a gore encrusted MAUL.

The Abstract Exile, Lynch, took the initiative. He ran around the obstacles in the room, and the holes in the floor (randomly generated), and heavily wounded the riot scythe wielding zombie with his Hypertech Distortion Pistol.

The zombie went next, just missing Lynch with a swipe of it's massive black steel weapon.

Next up came Mashley, she darted forward, blasting at the Riot Scythe weilding zombie with her auto-rifle, putting an end to the creep forever.

Unfortunately, she left Raver behind, Who was immediately drenched in a gout of acidic vomit from the head weilding zombie. She, lacking armor, failed her save, and took an affliction- BLEED. With no healing spells or first aid kits to be found, Raver knew she was going to be dead by the middle of round 2.

Lynch attempted his special skill- REWIND, but the turn played out largely the same, wasting his rare ability.

At the start of round 2, another zombie showed up, as was the randomly rolled condition of the skirmish. This one weilded a festering mutated tentacle.

Raver screamed for her allies to just run, as she bled out, rising almost instantly as another BIO ZOMBIE. Since I forgot she was carrying a chainsaw as well as the rifle, her zombie would be unarmed, as bio zombies cant use guns.

The zombies ALL passed their charge rolls, and therefore would be pursuing the survivors into the next room.

The survivors passed their sanity checks- no anomalies ahead.

The terrain for the next room was to be three full cover terrain pieces in favor of the enemy, and one full cover and one half cover for the hunters, with the zombies in hot pursuit.

The encounter rolled up was to be a KILLDROID and it's SQUATGANGER engineer master.

The Killdroid lurched out of cover, scanning the darkness, but to no avail, Mashley and Lynch were pressed against a pillar, out of line of sight

Lynch knew the undead would be on their heels soon enough, so raced forward, ducking into the cover the Killdroid came from, using it's advantage against it. he let rip with his distortion pistol, but missed the horrific machine with both blasts.

The Squatganger fired his autorifle at Lynch, but lynch ducked back behind the cover, taking not even a glancing blow.

Mashley panicked, not sure whether to help her strange bird headed partner in crime, or get the drop on the approaching undead. She opted to go into overwatch, and take fire at the zombies as they emerged. Her auto rifle SHREDDED the puking horror that kiled her friend, but her friends own animated cadaver was upon her in an instant, attempting to grapple her- but failing!

The Killdroid stomped toward lynch, unpacking it's mighty KILLSAW, but the slow lumbering machine was no match for Lynch's agility, and only barely inflicted a flesh wound. He fired again at the droid, his shots going wide as he dodged and weaved.

Unfortunately, while lynch was dodging the Killdroids saw, the Squatganger managed to get a good line of sight, and put a splattery end to the Therianthrope with their autorifle.

Mashley ran, throwing herself into a gap in the westmost pillar, where the Squatganger had just left. The undead slowly approached from one side, and the engineer and their walking weapon turned to face her position.

beyond them, she glimpsed what they must have been guardeing- a vault locked with a password. Surely some good stuff was hidden in there. She almost let herself feel a glimmer of hope.

The slimy sounds of a slithering tentacle were approaching , so she whipped around and blasted the approaching ghoul into jam, but her rifle ran dry in the process.

the Killdroid clanked forward, and the squatganger tried to repeat the trick they had done on Lynch, but couldn't quite get close enough. Shrapnel from the pillar cut into Mashley's arm, and dented her shoulder armor beyond use.

She was out of options. She cast her rifle to the groud, and popped out of cover just long enough to fling a volley of shurikens at the squat ganger. one of the graphene microblades caught the bastard in the throat, and he died choking on his own blood.

She had no time to smile, however, as the burning red eyes of the Killdroid drew closer. It lowered it's Death ray, and from the arm that it had been using to steady it's sights, it SHUNK out a pneumatic KILLBLADE.

It struck- and the blow hit home. Mashley's death was mercilessly quick, but mercifully painless.

... The tape hunt was at it's end.

If i was a gaming group, I would then have rerolled characters again but with 10 bonus points per kill achieved on the previous run for buying gear and skills.

So that's fun!

I think I'm on to something!

4 notes · View notes

jupitermelichios · 4 years ago

Text

So I’ve been playing a lot of skyrim lately, because it’s video game comfort food, and I decided it was time for my Redguard Dovahkiin to settle down. (Actually I specifically just wanted to be able to adopt some of the random orphans you meet because I felt guilty about them, but you need to be married before you can do that so that there’s someone at home to take care of the kids while you’re off galivanting).

So I travelled around a bit, chatting up likely looking npcs until I found one I both liked and didn’t feel guilty about marrying (I feel bad if I marry one of the warrior adventurer types, making them be a stay at home mum) and settled on an obnoxiously cheerful argonian called Shavee because her life was frankly shit, and I thought she’d probably be good with kids.

So off I go to Riften to the Temple of Mara to arrange the wedding. I book it in for the next day, realise I didn’t bring anything nice to wear, and spend the night before the wedding robbing every house in the city in the search for something to wear. Eventually decide everyone in Riften has terrible fashion sense and break down everything I stole into raw materials and use them to craft myself an outfit and some jewellery that i’m pretty happy with. I even carefully pick out my fanciest looking sword to wear.

(don’t know why I bothered, frankly, shavee turned up wearing a shirt covered in suspicious stains and weilding a pickaxe, it’s like she doesn’t even care about this marriage)

(also for comedy purposes, bear in mind I play with survival mods that mean my character needs to eat and sleep to live, and I literally spent the entire ingame night on this and forgot to eat and drink anything either and then just downed four bowls of wolf stew right before entering the temple so I didn’t starve during the ceremony. also I discovered during the wedding that I am dying of rockjoint, which I contracted from sleeping in a pile of hay on the floor of a skeever infested cave, so even being six foot tall and jacked can’t make up for the fact that I am exhausted, running a fever, and probably covered in wolf which I spilled because my joints are slowly atrophying, and even the fanciest clothes in the world aren’t going to cover that up)

so I enter the temple, and my finance is there, and Lydia my housecarl, and some random NPCs the game thinks are my friends because I did fetch quests for them

One of the random NPCs is Lisbet. Atfter I did her fetch quest, I then did another quest in which I discovered Lisbet is secretly a cannibal and part of a demonic cult that worships the daedric prince of decay by kidnapping priests, sacrificing them, and then eating their corpses. Raw. I think the raw meat is the sticking point for me here honestly.

I ultimately decided not to sacrifice the random priest to a daedric prince in exchange for one magic ring and all the raw human I could eat, because frankly, that doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me. I was expecting there to be some kind of dialogue choice where I could nope out at the last minute, but it turns out there isn’t one, so after they drugged the priest and tied him to the altar, I just got out my sword and started swinging.

I killed most of the cult (including the town butcher, because I had brought meat from him before and was extremely pissed off that he might have been secretly feeding me humans) but a couple of them got away, which I figured was fine because they weren’t trying to kill me.

Except it turns out, if any of them escape, then every time you see them in the future there’s a random chance that they’ll fly into a violent rage and try and murder you.

Lisbet is at my wedding. Lisbet decides that clearly me marrying this random argonian woman with two lines of dialogue is the happiest day of my life, and she cannot allow me that happiness, when I’ve taken so much from her.

So she tries to kill me. Only she can’t, because I’m stuck in a pre-rendered wedding animation, and also she’s sitting next to Lydia, my faithful retainer and owner of a really big axe.

It also turns out that Lisbet is essential, meaning she can be knocked unconcious but not actually killed because she’s needed for some quest or other. And the minute she wakes up from unconciousness, she tries to kill me again, so Lydia knocks her unconcious again, and I’m stuck, I can’t move, because I’m supposed to be in the wedding animation.

Except Shavee has, not unreasonably, see all this and decided that she doesn’t like me enough to risk getting murdered, and has done a runner, leaving me at the altar, but more importantly, leaving me trapped in a broken pre-rendered animation, so all I can do is stand there at the altar, staring at the space where my fiance was supposed to be, listening to the sounds of Lydia trying and failing to beat a cannibal to death behind me.

Okay, I think, clearly this wedding isn’t going to happen, I’m going to go for the registry office option and complete the wedding using the dev commands. I do this. The priest gives me a wedding ring, and I can finally move again. I chase after Shavee, who has an impressive turn of speed on her, and eventually catch up right by the city gates. I try to talk to her.

Apparently using the console has completed the wedding for me, but not for her, because she still only has the same 2 lines of dialogue she usually has.

Clearly this is working, I can’t leave my kids with someone who can only say 2 things and doesn’t even know she’s their mum, that’s irresponsible.

I try loading from inside the temple. I get the same problem.

Eventually I figure out that I need to use the dev controls to disable Lisbet’s entire existence in the universe.

Shavee and me get married. As the priest reads the vows, I stare at Shavee and wonder why she couldn’t even be bothered to put on a clean shirt. I wonder what kind of mother she’ll be.

Once the ceremony is over, and I’m happily married to the dirty green lizard of my dreams, and we’ve agreed that until I can make her recognise my extremely nice modded house exists I will share her single bed in the unheated flophouse in Windhelm she calls home, I re-enable Lisbet, because I’m worried I’ll forget if I leave it too long.

Fun fact about skyrim, it loads in quite a lot of npcs and objects by dropping them from the sky. I have no idea why this is the case, but it’s objectively the funniest way to load in objects.

I re-enable Lisbet. She falls from the sky, clips through the roof of the temple, and lands in the pew beside Lydia, stands up, draws a knife, and is immedately beaten unconcious.

I no longer care, because Shavee now has all the exciting new spouse-only romantic dialogue options like “Could you cook something for me” and “have you made any money lately”, and I know she’ll be a great mother.

I limp to the door of the temple, while around me the guests not involved in the Lydia-Lisbet murder cycle scream and duck for cover.

I open the door to the temple, immediately collapse and ragdoll down the steps, which is how I discover I am dying of rockjoint.

I limp to the orphanage down the street, adopt two kids, and then finally remember that I’m carrying garlic bread, which as we all know, cures all known illnesses.

When I emerge back into the street, full of the joys of motherhood and garlic bread, I find the town in disaray. Lydia is chasing Lisbet through the streets with an axe and a dragon is circling overhead, burning npcs to death. People are running for shelter, screaming, while the guards try to take down an entire dragon using only the worst bows and arrows in the game.

I decide that as a parent, I have to think of my own safety first and leave them to it.

I head out of the city, intent on returning home and figuring out why Shavee refuses to move in with me. A man hanging around the stables challenges me to a boxing match. For want of anything better to do, I agree.

Halfway through the fight he dodges at the wrong moment and I punch one of his horses in the head.

Two guards attack me while I desperately try to surrender. My kids will miss me, but I’m prepared to go to jail for my horse crimes, I’m an honest citizen. Also my horse crimes seem somewhat less important than the dragon.

The guards refuse to accept my surrender. I am stabbed to death. As I collapse in front of the indifferent horse, Lisbet exits the city, followed by Lydia. The last thing I see before I die is Lydia swinging her axe at Lisbet’s face.

#skyrim #spoilers #technically #although this game is a decade old and we all own at least two versions of it at this point #so i'm not sure it counts #long post

17K notes · View notes

vityuuwrites · 4 years ago

Text

last bud not least

it’s finally time!! the zine has been sold out, the money donated to ao3 so we got permission by @mlwriterzine to publish our finished piece! thank you to everyone who worked on the zine - the mods, writers and artists - and thank you to everyone who bought our zine, we’re so honoured!! this couldn’t be possible without all of you <333

i hope you guys enjoy this story and don’t forget to check out everyone else’s work, as well!!

When Adrien opens his eyes, he thinks he sees Ladybug there in the silhouette of the inky blue sky and the streetlights blinking back at him like a low-hung moon. He sighs when he blinks a few more times and she’s gone, a whisper in the night that never existed.

Hair falling back against his pillow, he closes his eyes and throws his arm over his face. Plagg’s soft snores tickle his ears. “Another dream,” he murmurs and cracks open an eye. The ceiling stares back down at him. He can’t tear his eyes off the long, shadowy crack he’s mapped during sleepless nights so many times he can draw it by memory. It reminds him of the route Ladybug and he took all those weeks ago, when she graced him with the snake miraculous and his dreams have never been the same ever since. Duck behind the trash can, run a straight line from there to the other side of the square and then zap — she was gone like the promise she had whispered to him, assuring him that she’s never going anywhere.

Adrien groans and squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t stop thinking about that day—about her kind smile as she entrusted the miraculous to him, her eyes shining with trust and promise and sincerity that were all for nothing in the end. That Adrien himself betrayed when he failed to right the wrongs in the end. He’s not a planner, never was. That’s why he works so well as Chat Noir. But not Aspik, never again. Never.

The one time that stayed with him the most—besides the very last one that made him give up completely—was her shy smile when he gave her the rose that flushed like her cheeks, silky smooth and perfect, the warm way she looked at him as she took it and softly thanked him. The way she disappeared just seconds after as if the warmth in her expression was merely a fragment of his imagination.

Adrien rolls over onto his stomach. He wants to make her look at him like that again, but she never does, never in those thousand times he’s tried as Chat Noir.

He wants to try it again, no miraculous and responsibilities burning between them this time, hanging over them like the crescent moon lit on fire. Wants to see her smile at him again, as if she truly sees him. Most importantly, he wants her to know how much she means to him. Wants her to remember it.

He closes his eyes and curls up around his pillow. An idea swirls in his head and restlessly stays there, stroking its claws against his mind and pushing them in, refusing to budge.

He just needs to figure out how to do it without raising suspicion.

His lips curl in a smile as he drifts off again, with Plagg pressed up against his hair and the moon outside returning his smile.

***

“You want to give Ladybug a rose?” Nino says, bewildered as he stares at Adrien, who’s turning all shades of pink at once. “But why, dude?”

Adrien shushes him as he looks around to make sure no one’s heard. He then glances at Nino and slumps in his chair, his history homework forgotten. “It’s a bad idea, isn’t it?”

“No, just … odd.” Nino wrinkles his nose as he turns to give Adrien his full attention. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

“I don’t!” Adrien quickly says and shakes his head wildly. He knows Plagg is sniggering somewhere in his bag while nibbling on the cheese he’s left him after lunch. “Just … I feel like she deserves one, y’know? She’s done so much for us already; it’s the least that she deserves.”

There’s a crash somewhere in the distance, like a fair amount of books falling to the ground, but he pays it no mind. He wrings his hands together. “Plus, she’s just...” he continues and smiles down at his lap. “She’s just so amazing, you know? I feel like she deserves to know that.”

When Adrien looks up, Nino is looking at him with an expression Adrien can’t read—eyebrows raised and eyes wide, lips parted as he refuses to blink for even a second.

Adrien squirms and looks back down at his lap. “Yeah, I knew it was stupid.”

Nino blinks and shakes his head. “Dude, are you in love with Ladybug?” he blurts out, voice carrying over the quiet space. He shifts his chair closer.

Adrien feels his face warm and he quickly shakes his head as he looks up at Nino, who’s still giving him the same look.

“Of course not,” he denies, his voice shaking as his heart speeds up. He curses them both. “How can I be in love with her? I don’t even know her!”

There’s another, louder sound somewhere behind him, but it barely registers over the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He glances over his shoulder for just long enough to see a flash of black and pink before it’s gone and he’s not completely sure that wasn’t a fragment of his own imagination.

Nino is shaking his head when he looks back. “Dude, you so are, don’t deny it,” he says and barks out a laugh. “Shit, how did I never see this before?”

Adrien just flushes a deeper hue of red before slumping his shoulders. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he murmurs as something heavy rolls off his chest. Maybe this isn’t the smartest idea but—but it feels amazing to say it out loud. Adrien could weep.

Nino shakes his head again. “Your secret’s safe with me, promise,” he tells him and mimics locking his lips.

Adrien weakly smiles back.

“Okay, back to the rose you want to give her—” “

They never end up doing their history homework, but it’s the lightest Adrien has ever felt upon returning home regardless.

***

Adrien has kept a single red rose in his backpack ever since he’s decided to give it to her. Unfortunately, he hasn’t had a chance encounter with her in that time—or even any encounter for that matter. With the spring air tickling his cheeks until they turn pink, it’s been surprisingly peaceful, no akumas for them to fight.

And he’s happy about it; he really is—but the rose in his backpack is wilting in a flurry of dark tears that weigh down on his backpack as if it’s the single most heavy thing he’s ever owned.

It doesn’t help that Nino elbows him every day he comes to class and makes Adrien sink further in his chair while holding back a smile.

I have the best friend in the whole world, he thinks one day as he elbows him back. They sink into a discussion about their latest homework as if they don’t share a secret between them. And then he feels Marinette’s stare, his head turning to give her a smile and a wave.

Marinette turns beet red then, shyly waving and smiling back before turning back to Alya. Occasionally he still feels her eyes on him, but he’s so used to it from everyone he tunes it out.

And then, on that very same day, Ladybug lands in front of him when he’s leaving school.

Adrien stumbles back when he sees her. She’s pink-cheeked and beautiful with the pinking sky as her backdrop. His heart stutters in his chest. She’s wringing her hands together until one of them reaches up to tug on her pigtail and she meets his eyes with a confident gaze of her own. Adrien just continues staring.

“Ladybug?” he says, voice shaking. “What are you doing here?”

Ladybug ducks her head. “I’m on patrol,” she says.

Adrien knows it’s a lie—she and Chat Noir patrol together every Tuesday and Friday—but he also knows he can’t call her out on it, so he stays quiet.

“And I saw you so I wanted to come say hi.” She pauses. “Hi.”

Adrien grips at the straps of his backpack. His driver is watching them, wary and impatient, and he knows he doesn’t have much time. His cheeks burn as he coughs into his hand.

“Hi,” he says and smiles at her. “It’s nice to see you. I, uhh …” He pauses, feeling his cheeks burn hotter as he shrugs off his backpack while Ladybug watches with interest, taking a few steps closer to him. He opens it and starts looking through it, feeling slightly sick, his hands shaking with nerves. When his fingers wrap around a smooth stem, he hesitates for a second then pulls it out to offer it to her.

Her eyes are impossibly blue and wide as she looks at him. It makes the whole week of agonizing worth it.

Adrien smiles at her, but it’s shaky and slight. “I just—I wanted to thank you for how hard you work and express my gratitude somehow, even if it’s something as small as this.” He hesitates when she doesn’t reach out to take it. “If this is weird or inappropriate I’m so—”

Ladybug quickly shakes her head and takes it from him—their fingers brush, even if it’s through the material of her suit, and her hand leaves tingles where it touches his. He licks his lips and feels his chest go light with relief.

“I love it,” she says and holds it close to her. “I—thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Adrien gives a shaky sigh as he smiles down at her hands. “I’ve wanted to give it to you for a while now,” he admits and gestures at the petals which have begun to wilt. “But I never saw you, so sorry it’s a bit wilted.”

Ladybug quickly shakes her head. “It’s perfect,” she assures him and steps closer to him. Adrien gulps when she stands right in front of him, smiling up at him with rosy cheeks and soft eyes.

Then his heart stutters when her lips press an even softer kiss against the warm skin of his cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispers in his ear and pulls away to smile at him. Then, as suddenly as she’s appeared, she’s gone.

Adrien stands there, still as a statue until his driver coughs loudly and brings him back to reality.

***

Ladybug’s next visit is unexpected—on a moonlit Wednesday night. Just the day before, he’s seen her cheerful smile and spring in her step on patrol, when she teased him more than usual and seemed to glow so much brighter, if that’s even possible. He didn’t expect to see her as a civilian again, at least not until she’s saving him and there is fire and adrenaline pumping through him like a drug as he’s attempting to get away and come help her.

Alas, Ladybug is full of surprises.

Adrien is humming to himself as he towels his hair, walking across the room in his Ladybug pajamas to join the snoring Plagg, who’s curled up soundly on his pillow. His chest warms as he watches Plagg grumble to himself. Fingers reaching out, he almost brushes his fingertips against his ears.

His heart lurches out of his chest when he hears the knock against his window .

It’s a soft sound, whispering through the night, but in the eerie stillness of his room, he hears it. It echoes through the wide space like a yell, and he quickly turns around, throwing the wet towel over Plagg to hide him. Ladybug’s silhouette sketches itself out outside his window with the slumbering street as her backdrop, streetlights playing in her hair and, a bit dazed, he notices the jittery way she’s holding herself.

Adrien tries in vain to tame his hair, tucking a dripping wet lock behind his ear before he stumbles over to open the window for her.

The cold air assaults him when she’s finally in arm’s reach. It makes him shiver.

“Ladybug?” he says, eyes wide as he hugs his arm close to himself. “What are you”—a gulp — “what are you doing here?”

Ladybug is hiding her hands behind her back, a shadow of a smile on her face. “Sorry, I know it’s late.” She presses her lips together. “May I come in?”

Adrien quickly nods and takes a few steps back to let her come in, closing the window behind her with a soft sound. He tries to smooth down his hair, tugging his pajamas close to himself almost self-consciously. He never thought she’d ever see him in them.

Ladybug turns to him, her hands still hiding behind her back. She looks him up and down, and even though he’s a model and he’s used to people scrutinizing him, he wants to curl in on himself as if he never wants to be seen. A wide smirk sketches over her face when their eyes meet again. But, if he squints in the pale yellow light of his room, he thinks he sees her cheeks turn slightly pinker.

“Nice pajamas,” she teases and raises her eyebrows.

Adrien makes a weak, dying sound.

“Thanks,” he mumbles and tugs on the hem of his shirt. “Nino bought them for me as a joke gift. I have a Chat Noir pair around here somewhere, too.”

“Why don’t you sleep in that one?” she asks, but the corners of her mouth are lifting as if she’s trying not to laugh. It makes his shoulders sag in relief, his own lips starting to do the same.

“Black and green makes me look too dashing.” He pauses and grows flustered again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not that I’m self-absorbed, I just —! ”

Ladybug smothers a giggle in her hand, shaking her head in amusement, and Adrien could weep. For a second he was worried that he had come across as narcissistic and ruined whatever this was. Whatever she was there for.

Whatever reason she has for coming to visit him, Adrien has no way of seeing it, and it itches at the back of his mind. It burns down to his fingertips, making him want to reach out and touch her, ask her what’s on her mind, but his lips can barely move enough to form a weak sound.

“I know you’re not,” she assures and smiles at him, letting her hand drop to her side. Oddly enough, her other hand stays hidden behind her back, and Adrien eyes it, eyebrows drawn. “I like that about you.”

His heart stutters but he tries not to get it to his head. Not to let his hopes up. Instead he just smiles at her, rubbing the back of his neck again.

“Thank you,” he says. “Not that I mind but … what are you doing here?” he asks after a moment’s pause.

Her eyes widen and this time, he’s sure he sees her cheeks flush warm. She offers him a sheepish smile and—and pulls out a rose from behind her back.

A perfect, beautiful, stunning red rose with full petals. Thornless, the stem is cut at a perfect angle and flushed red where it meets the petals.

His heart balloons in his chest, his heartbeat echoing in his ears, and he can’t take his eyes off her even though he can feel his face getting redder by the second. Ladybug plays with one of her pigtails and all he can do is make a soft, choked sound for the second time that night.

“I—” She coughs and averts her eyes. Her fingers are slightly shaking. “I wanted to return the favour. I really liked your rose. And, ummm. It was a sweet gesture. Which I wanted to return. Because it was sweet.”

“Sweet,” he says, voice shaking. He looks down at the rose—so perfect and soft—and then back at her, at her big eyes that stormed, at the freckles standing out under the soft flush of her cheeks. He slowly takes her rose with shaking fingers, giving her hand a squeeze before he plucks it out of her grasp. She gasps and pulls back her hand as if burned.

Adrien smiles softly down at the rose he’s clutching yet holding so tenderly in his grasp. “Thank you, you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Ladybug answers and suddenly stands straighter. “I really wanted to.”

Adrien looks at her —really looks at her—and understands what she can’t say.

I love you. Thank you.

He hugs the rose close to himself and lets himself soak in her moonlit gaze for a while longer.

“It’s getting late,” she says softly when the silence that hangs between them dips too heavy, her fingers playing together. Her lips curl in a petal-light smile.

Adrien wants to reach out and touch her. Wants to ask her to stay.

But the cold, dark streets of Paris call for her and he can’t selfishly demand like so. So he only nods and thumbs at the smooth stem in his hand, trying not to collapse in her arms as she raises her yo-yo.

“Good night,” he says, as soft as her, as the smile she shoots him before she disappears into the dead of the night like a whisper of a fantasy that was never there.

Adrien puts the rose in a glass vase and can’t fall asleep for the rest of the night.

#ml writer zine #ladrien fanfiction #ladrien #miraculous ladybug #marichat #adrienette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Nino lahiffe #ladynoir #fanfiction #ml fanfiction #lyre plays

11 notes · View notes

aelaer · 5 years ago

Text

Stephen adventuring through Cyrodiil: a hybrid adventure of mystery and idiocy

So here's the continuation of my hybrid Oblivion gaming experience. Half of it is me semi-RPing/writing Stephen in an alternate dimension (the game world) but he's currently lost his memories. That's the italic part, and the mystery part. The other part is me describing all the ways I've failed in gaming. That's the normal text, and the idiocy part.

Part 1 of the adventure

Half of my gaming experience is getting dozens of mods to work on a 15 year old game to make it fun, pretty, and playable. By the time I get Stephen out of the tutorial dungeon, I don't have all of them working yet. But Stephen's gotta figure out where to go, and at the moment he has little choice. The mods can wait.

Stephen stepped out of the sewers that led from the dungeon. He still had no idea as to who he was (other than an echo of a name; he knew he was Stephen). Everything was a blur, and when he tried to remember, he only occurred a massive headache.

Fine. It was a problem to deal with later.

What he did know is that he could definitely use magic, and had had to against goblins living in the sewers on his way out. He did his best to knock them out; for some reason the thought of killing them made him uncomfortable, despite their viciousness and aggression.

Still, that was something to consider later. Right now, for lack of anything else, he had a direction to go from the now-dead emperor (Septim, that was his name) that had apparently dreamed about him (odd). Only one of Septim's personal guards had survived, and Stephen told him the instructions he was given: get the Amulet to a man named Jauffre.

The guard told him where Jauffre could be found: a small chapel called Weynon Priory. From the sewer entrance he pointed to the main road and which direction to take, advising that it would be a few hours of walking.

But what choice did he have? His memories were gone. He had no food and no money. This was his only hope of survival, as far as he could see it. Besides, he could still feel the immense power coming from the amulet in his possession and Stephen could only imagine that it'd eventually draw the wrong sorts to him.

So he pushed his physical complaints to the back of his mind and started walking.

So after the tutorial dungeon I decided I best start Stephen on magic/hand-to-hand combat asap. It turns out that hand-to-hand is not like, the awesome moves we see in the films with lots of blocks and ducks and kicks. Nope, it's basically alllll punching.

So I'm really having to suspend disbelief with both the not-killing thing and the non-weapon fighting being very fist heavy, haha.

I've also decided this little write up (the story in italics) at least are primarily going to be composed of the main storyline. Not gonna write about the dozens of other quests I'm playing concurrently. But oh boy am I enjoying making a mess of everything.

Sometime in the playing I got another hair mode to work too and I figured out how to slightly darken his beard. At this angle he doesn't look too bad either!

I'm just pretending he has grey on the sides, just like I'm pretending I'm not whole slaughtering people and just knocking them out. Pretend is fun.

#gaming #oblivion #stephen strange #in this silly thing #my writing #long post

5 notes · View notes

originaldanganronpascenarios · 6 years ago

Note

PRANK WAR with s/o and SDR2 boys ?! Happy April fools *throws delicious pie in face*

Thank. Also holly shit I got more April fools requests than I imagined. I also don't know much about pranking so I will probably repeat myself (and pranks will be lame) but reactions will be different for sure! Have sleepy Chiaki since I did it instead of sleeping. Sorry but there won't be any Twogami here-

Prank war with SDR2 boys.

Gundham Tanaka

Surprisingly Gundham was the one to start that prank war. He literally gave you dog food and you didn't notice until you took a bite.

It was on. You never expected Gundham to do something like this. But he knew he will regret this.

Both of you agreed to leave his devas out of this (too bad for Gundham since he could make some good pranks with his devas help-). It was personal war.

You knew now that all that required you giving him a gift were off the table.

What you did was just use some tape on doors since you didn't wanted to go too far. You called for him and he got fooled as your trick worked "What kind of force field did you enchant my love?" his dorky face and comment at the time was too cute.

He knew he got pranked of course but each time he didn't show any anger since it was just for fun.

His next prank was attaching airhorn to your chair. You immediately stood up as you were quite sleepy. You could hear him laugh at your reaction as you playfully punched him.

You decided to leave him small 'surprise' in his room and it was- tons of cups filled with water. Luckily none of the animals knocked them out as in his bedroom only his devas rested. Once he entered his room he couldn't belive you.

When you were exchanging pranks back and forth you decided to leave it a draw.

He couldn't belive he enjoyed it this much.

Fujuhiko Kuzuryu

When you heard him yell your name you had to rethink of the choices you made and probably move to another country.

How this happened? What you did? Its simple. You left fake snake toy. He got scared at first not because it was snake but he was surprised. Then he realized what day it was and the war began.

He thought about his prank quite a lot since he couldn't think of anything that was harmless. Since you were so generous and left him a gift why wouldn't he leave something for you aswell? There were rubber ducks everywhere. On your desk in your dorm locker and even im your bag!

He knew the joke was bad but he laughed at your shocked expression whenever you found a duck.

When you two decided to make this war official you made one thing clear. It was just yours war no one can interrupt it so no asking for help (for example Teruteru or Peko).

When it was your time to strike you left bubble wrap under the carpet. But it was just a distraction for real prank that was waiting under it. Once he lifted the carpet what he saw was scarry picture of your choice. Once again picture itself didn't scare him but the fact that it was unexpected.

He made small changes on your laptop. Nick. Cage. Was. Everywhere. Each icon was replaced with actors face (you can replace Nicolas Cage with someone else but I just really thought how funny it had to be seeing him basically everywhere).

The war continues and pranks were lame but enough to make both of you laugh.

Hajime Hinata

He forgot that it was today. And when he went to fetch himself some orange juice he actually drank the power from Mac and Cheese box that was mixed with water.

As he spitted it out he thought who could possibly do it and only option right now were you. He couldn't belive you and he looked for you. Of course you left also another thing waiting for him on his way. Classic bucket of water.

As he changed and dried himself he was more cautious while making his way to you. He couldn't stay mad at you for longer time but still he gave up on you.

While he was walking he thought he could just get back at you! He got fake bug prepared and when he went to where you lived. You thought that your pranks had failed since he didn't act any different.

Once you left for a minute to get your back up plan (toothpaste oreos) he taped the fake bug on your lamp.

Of course he was suspicious of them but looking at the fact that you pranked him already twice... Maybe this time it was- get fucked. You couldn't help but laugh.

He declared war. And you gladly accepted.

The thing was that the whole class got involved as they took sides.

On his team was: Nagito Chiaki Mikan Mahiru Hiyoko Fujuhiko and Peko.

On your team you had: Nekomaru Akane Sonia Gundham Kazuichi Teruteru and Ibuki.

Twogami left it be as he didn't take any side.

The was was very brutal as you thought this was the end of you while Hajime felt the same.

When it was finally over you went back to your room. Hajime just realized that he left that fake bug when he heard your scream. He was keep apologizing and said that he set that up earlier.

Nekomaru Nidai

You allways had prank war each year this was no different.

You mostly drew spiders on toilet paper or add something spicy to his food when he isn't looking.

This year you did something else. You taped tons of balloons on glass door making it seem the gym was filled with them. Of course not to seem lazy you left some balloons in gym too but it was much less than it seemed.

What he did was leave you small 'gifts' everywhere. From just bunch of rubber ducks to fake insects.

Traps were everywhere and not only you and Nekomaru got pranked because of that. Everyone had to look out since it was no better to be safe than sorry!

You two never let it end with a draw. So it was impossible to end those wars. They took about 3 days each time. This time you won!

You allways have a small bets this year it was simply about deciding about everything for 2 months.

Kazuichi Souda

You were suspicious of him day before but when you got inside shower on April fools you noticed he prepared you Chicken soup shower.

You were quite mad at him but little he knew that you had something in your sleeve too!

Ice cubes with mentos hidden in it. When you two were at your place you got him some soda and he added your evil cubes. You were the one to clean it up but it was worth it.

But he messed more with your bathroom as he ALSO had dyes water in your sink red. After you cleaned up you left leek in your sink.

As you went to him you said "Kaz could you fix leak in my bathroom sink?".

When he saw it he yelled from bathroom "Nice one S/O".

Your pranks were very harmless and you laughed each time.

After it ended you called it even. Yet you thought that his pranks were much better than yours.

Nagito Komaeda

He didn't wanted to prank you but you begged for some prank war. Why whould he say no? He can allways intentionally make his pranks be something lame.

You allways told him what great surprise you had for him. He was concerned but he couldn't wait for what you prepared!

He left visable pranks so you allways knew what was going on thanks to his luck... You asked him if he did it intentionally "I don't. S/O I just don't think I can prank well that's all" you knew he was lying...

You left it be as he still didn't knew what you were planning.

He didn't bother following you becouse he wanted to see what his S/O can come up with!

At the end of the day you told him that your plan was prank itself. You didn't had a proper prank war but still it was fun while he tried to make his things obvious as you acted you were doing something.

Teruteru Hanamura

"Prank war you say... Well we can try it. But what will the winner get?" you couldn't help but laugh as you managed to convince him.

It was hard for both sides since Teruteru didn't leave kitchen often and he whould never do anything to his dishes.

Teruteru came up with an idea. He won't do anything to food itself but he can mess with plates glasses etc. And in the worst case scenario he can make fake food (Wich was reserved for you).

Yes you did leave some outside ones but Teruteru didn't get caught on any of those. Teruteru himself got you some of the fake food you took it since you knew he wouldn't do anything to it.

1:0 for Teruteru! Now you had to think of something...

With Mikans help you managed to convince him that you got food poisoning. After saying April fools you were even.

The hole (;)) in a cup from him. The bucket (;) for homestuck who follow me) with water from you.

It kept going like this back and forth and you ended up not winning nor losing...

He still had fun with it and so did you!

~Mod Chiaki

#gundham tanaka #fujuhiko kuzuryu #hajime hinata #nekomaru nidai #kazuichi souda #nagito komaeda #teruteru hanamura

22 notes · View notes

thedaughterofkings · 7 years ago

Text

Carve a heart

What a wonderful @sterekweek-2018 we had! Much thanks to the mods for organising all of it again! Today’s fic might well be my favourite out of all the ones I’ve written for this week, and it doubles as a fill for both yesterday’s Witch Hunt prompt and today’s Halloween prompt. Dedicated to @ohfuckthisshit, without whom this fic would not exist (because I couldn’t think of a single thing to write). I hope you enjoy the following 4k of Harry Potter AU with secret admirers and Halloween shenanigans! See you all again next year hopefully!

It starts the very first night back at Hogwarts, though Stiles only realises that in hindsight.

There’s a box of chocolates on his bed - just a small one, two chocolate frogs, Dumbledore and Agrippa, nothing new sadly, one cauldron cake, two peppermint toads and three iced mice. There’s no note and honestly, Stiles doesn’t really spend a lot of time thinking about how it could have ended up in his bed - perhaps it’s a welcoming gift from the house elves? - before he dives right in.

Who cares where the chocolates come from, when they are this good!

~*~

Sixth year is both easier and harder than the years before. There’s no OWLs, so that makes it more relaxed. But on the other hand all the teachers apparently had been going easy on them the past five years and classes had suddenly become much harder. Stiles had to spend far too much time in the library studying now. Why did his best friend have to be an overzealous Ravenclaw?

“Stop daydreaming, Stiles,” Lydia hissed, as if she’d sensed him thinking about her. “You’ve got to write three feet about Amortentia and then there’s the essay for Transfiguration afterwards.”

With a sigh, Stiles looks down at his parchment which is three sentences long so far, not three feet. And one of the sentences is unreadable even because a big drop of ink had smudged it all while he’d been daydreaming.

“Why can’t wizards use ballpoint pens like normal people?” he whines and Lydia replies without looking up from her Arithmancy essay:

“Because they are a society that holds onto reactionary practices in the name of tradition and purity. Now stop talking and get working, you’ve got to ace the NEWTs.”

“Those are almost two years off! And what’s it to you if I ace them anyways? It’s not as if you are in any danger of failing them,” Stiles complains and Lydia shoots back:

“Because your failure or success reflects on me. I’m going to ace them anyway and you will too.”

That’s definitely more threat than promise and Stiles looks around him, seeking help. But the only other person in the library is the Hufflepuff Seventh Year Head Boy, Derek Hale, who seems to be too engrossed in his book to listen to them. So with a forlorn sigh Stiles accepts his fate and focuses back on the properties of Amortentia.

The next day a brand new no-spill, endless ink quill lies on his usual place in the library.

~*~

Stiles honestly makes an effort to find the owner of the quill, but it appears to belong to no one. Well, Isaac makes an attempt to claim ownership, but it is so obviously fake that Stiles laughs in his face. Stiles even asks Derek because he usually sits near him and Lydia in the library, so it’s possible he might have seen something. But Derek denies any knowledge, so that’s a dead end, too. The only thing that confuses Stiles is how Derek’s ears turn red when Stiles asks him whether he knows anything about the quill - almost as if he has something to hide, though what that might be, Stiles can’t begin to guess.

The quill is too useful (and expensive) to not use, though, so Stiles decides to use it from now on - if the real owner does appear eventually, it won’t matter, after all it’s spelled with an endless supply of ink anyways. And either way, it’s the exact same blue as Stiles’ broom, old but trusty Roscoe, so really it was clearly meant to be.

Roscoe is probably the oldest broom in the whole school, older even than the school brooms the first years learn to fly on. Those get switched out every five to ten years, whereas Roscoe used to belong to Stiles’ mum and is older than Stiles. But a good broom isn’t just the spells originally put on it, but the trust and belief of its rider, the magic that infuses the wood and straw. Stiles and his dad are living in a muggle neighbourhood, so flying Roscoe was out of the question, but before coming to Hogwarts where he could finally actually fly it, he used to get it out each week and clean and polish it, cutting off crooked ends, oiling the handle and re-adjusting the footrests. And when he finally got to fly it, the first flying lesson in Hogwarts, Roscoe jumped into his hand before he could even think “up”, nevermind say it.

Stiles tried out for the Quidditch team first thing second year, and each year since actually, but he never got in. Sometimes he wished it worked more like muggle sports, where you have substitutes, so that he’d at least be able to make it second line, if first was that out of reach, but sadly, the wizarding world only ever had one set of players for one team, so no Quidditch for Stiles. That didn’t mean he stopped flying, oh no! Poor Roscoe had been collecting dust for too long already. Each Sunday morning, he got up early and took to the skies. The nice thing was that he had the pitch for himself usually, as no one else wanted to get up early on a Sunday. The quidditch teams usually trained on Saturdays and few others flew just for the sake of flying.

But half way through September, there’s someone else already on the pitch when he arrives. Derek Hale is making lazy circles around the hoops and when Stiles hesitates, not sure if it’s okay to join him or not, Derek swoops down and actually offers to leave if Stiles wants the pitch to himself!

“Or we could play one on one a little, if you want to,” he adds after a moment’s hesitation. “I have both a quaffle and a practice snitch, so we could do either of those.”

“One on one with the quaffle sounds fun,” Stiles says, not quite sure that this is actually happening. Derek Hale wants to play Quidditch with him?! But who is Stiles to look a gift horse in the mouth—he already knows that this gift horse has bunny teeth and that they are adorable.

Playing with Derek is actually far more fun than just flying around alone, Stiles finds. Derek is competitive, but not annoyingly so, just enough to make beating him a real challenge. Stiles is quicker, despite his older broom, but Derek has the bulk and reach on him, and the sheer power to put behind his movements. When he puts his all into throwing the Quaffle, Stiles quickly learns to duck rather than throw himself in its path. They are pretty evenly matched, all in all, and to Stiles’ surprise, but delight, Derek suggests meeting again at the same time next week for another game. And Stiles agrees, and finds himself already looking forward to it.

Poor Roscoe suffered a few new scratches and crooked or broken straws, but it’s nothing that a little tender loving care cannot take care of. And that evening, Stiles finds a brand new broom servicing kit at the foot of his bed, filled to the brim with highest quality polishes and oils and everything else a broom might need.

Once again, there is no note.

~*~

The broomkit is where Stiles starts getting suspicious. The quill could be explained away, and yes, even the chocolates, though no one else got any. But a broom servicing kit? Just for him?

“Perhaps someone is pranking me,” he tells Lydia, who smoothly transfigures his eyebrows into feathers.

“Well done, Miss Martin, five points to Ravenclaw,” Professor McGonagall praises as she walks by and Stiles tries to glare at Lydia, though that’s hard to do with his brand new feathers fluttering with every twitch of a muscle.

“Are you even listening to me? Someone left me broom servicing kit! On my bed!”

“You needed one, didn’t you?” Lydia asks, impassive to his plight.

“Well yes, but that’s not the point!” Stiles exclaims and Professor McGonagall interjects:

“Focus, Mr Stilinski! Your transfiguration needs to be smooth in both directions by the end of the lesson or you’ll get an additional three feet of parchment!”

Stiles’ first three attempts at the transfiguration fail to do anything, until Lydia calmly corrects his grip on his wand and gets her eyebrows singed off in thanks on the next attempt.

“Seriously Stiles, McGonagall is right, you need to focus! If my eyebrows are not in perfect condition by the end of the lesson, three additional feet of parchment are going to be the least of your problems!” she chides and then offers:

“None of this sounds malicious in any way - perhaps someone is simply trying to court you?”

“Court me? Who would want to court me?” Stiles yelps and his spell misfires, transfiguring Lydia’s lashes instead of eyebrows into feathers. At least it works this time. Lydia blinks—very slowly, probably because of the sudden weight of the feathers—and then glares at him.

“I really wouldn’t know; I’m more tempted to kill you at the moment myself! We haven’t got enough data to draw any conclusions on that. So perhaps you could just stop messing around and fix this!”

“Sorry, I really didn’t mean to,” Stiles apologises and concentrates hard to transfigure her lashes back to normal. Thankfully it works and McGonagall who has silently appeared next to him actually claps.

“Very well done, Mr Stilinski. That was a very precise transfiguration, ten points to Slytherin. But if next time you could stick to the task given and not complicate matters for both yourself and Miss Martin, I’d be much obliged. Both of you may get started on your essays now, if you please.”

When she has moved onto the next student, Stiles insistently asks Lydia:

“Do you really think someone could be courting me?”

“The facts all point towards it,” she replies and then adds, grabbing his hand and squeezing it: “You are a catch, Stiles, okay? Don’t forget that, and whoever is courting you better shouldn’t either, if they don’t want to deal with me.”

Stiles smiles and squeezes her hand gently back. It’s moments like this one that remind him why Lydia is his best friend, even across House borders.

~*~

As if his secret admirer had only waited for Stiles to get a clue, the gifts start coming more rapidly now. They range from small, like a pouch of cough drops and a vial of pepperup potion when he’s feeling a little under the weather, to a new cloak when his old one suffers a tragic accident in Potions. Some gifts arrive via owl in the Great Hall, but most simply appear on his bed. Not a single one includes a note or any hint at who might have sent it.

Thus, Stiles embarks on a veritable witch hunt—or wizard hunt, who knows what his secret admirer identifies as. The owls are always school owls, freely available to whoever does the trek up to the Owlery, so that’s a dead end. The gifts aren’t giving him much either, other than that his secret admirer either knows Stiles very well, or is keeping a close eye on him, and that money is not an issue for them. Stiles’ last hope is his bed. Or rather, the fact that gifts keep getting left on his bed. It’s not as if just anyone can walk into the Slytherin quarters and up into the Sixth Year Boys Dormitory, repeatedly at that, without anyone noticing.

The only people besides Stiles himself that regularly enter this room are his roommates and thus, armed with the power of logic, Stiles confronts them, demanding to know whether one of them is his secret admirer.

“Why would I court you when I have Erica?” Boyd asks in return and Isaac actually replies with: “Ew, no!”

“Well, thanks for that, guys,” Stiles retorts, feeling more than a little disgruntled. Not that he was particularly enthusiastic about either of them courting him, but really, they didn’t have to be so vehement in their denials. They are not super close, but Stiles would have said they are friends, though Isaac’s “ew no” is making him rethink that. Way to be rude, Lahey.

Those three, Isaac, Boyd, and his girlfriend Erica, a fellow Slytherin, too, at least don’t begrudge him his sorting into Slytherin like most of the house still seems to do. Even after five years, Stiles is still the odd one out in Slytherin, ambitious yes, cunning, definitely, resourceful, without a doubt; he could even be pretty ruthless if the situation called for it. But what too many of his housemates still couldn’t overlook was that he was “just” a half-blood. And one that had grown up more muggle than wizard, even, because of the early death of his mom. His dad did his best, but having no magic himself and none of mom’s family around, Stiles’ life before Hogwarts hadn’t involved much magic, even though he had been aware of its existence.

Sometimes it felt as though everyone else was right and the Sorting Hat had been wrong. When Stiles had let slip something along those lines one Sunday during their now routine one on one Quidditch match after the Seventh Year Slytherins had ganged up on him again the night before, he’d been surprised to hear that he wasn’t alone in that feeling. Apparently Derek’s sorting into Hufflepuff had caused a minor earthquake, too.

“Everyone from my family has been a Gryffindor,” he had explained, “going generations back. When I was sorted into Hufflepuff, some of them could not believe it and took pains to inform me of that, too. So from home, it was all ‘you should have been in Gryffindor’ while at school everyone had apparently agreed that I should have been in Slytherin instead. Their reasoning was based on my facial expressions of all things, which is even stupider than a family tradition.”

“You do have a pretty bad case of resting bitch face,” Stiles had mused and had then had to get every last morsel of speed out of Roscoe to escape from Derek’s tickling figures. It had made him feel better, though, to know he wasn’t the only one whose sorting was controversial. It was also nice to be able to add another point to the list of things he and Derek had in common. It was getting rather long.

~*~

The notes start appearing one week before Halloween. One each morning, via owl to the Great Hall, and written with a bespelled quill, so the handwriting doesn’t give anything away.

On the 25th, the note says:

“I’ve been trying to gather enough courage to talk to you for a while now, and this year is my last chance. I hope you’ve been enjoying my gifts.”

“It’s probably a Seventh Year,” Lydia says when Stiles shows her the note later and keeps talking across Stiles’ spluttering denials, because what Seventh Year would notice him? And then not dare to talk to him.

“The last chance is the important clue here—we are here for another year after this one, so if it was anyone from our year or below, this wouldn’t be their last chance. That only fits a Seventh Year. Now stop cutting your beetles and start crushing them or your potion is going to explode later.”

On the 26th, the note says:

“I admire your intelligence and your thirst for knowledge. It amazes me how you can make even the most random subjects sound fascinating and how you are interested in a wide range of topics, striving to deepen your understanding of them. I wouldn’t know boredom for the rest of my life as long as I could always talk to you.”

Stiles doesn’t show that one to Lydia. Instead he keeps it close and furtively rereads it several times during the day, his heart fluttering each time. There’s someone out there who doesn’t find his ramblings annoying, but interesting? Who likes how he can become obsessed with particular topics and has to find out everything about them as quickly as possible? It almost sounds too good to be true.

The note on the 27th arrives just as the other two have, via owl during breakfast, but this time Stiles is anticipating it, impatiently waiting for it, really. This one is shorter, but it still makes Stiles’ heart beat faster when he reads it:

“I admire your loyalty. Friends and family are of utmost importance and so few people realise that. I’m glad you do and hope to earn your loyalty one day, just as you’ve already earned mine.”

The note on the 28th says:

“If I could draw, I’d draw your eyes, for they have bewitched me. But as I can’t, I’m only left with my words, which are inadequate in comparison. Your eyes are the colour of whiskey, of amber, of molten gold, a gleaming fire and a deep pool that I long to drown in. I hope they won’t shutter in disappointment when they fall upon me.”

Stiles spends an embarrassing amount of time in the bathroom that day, staring at his own reflection, trying to see what his secret admirer sees in him, in his eyes. But all he sees is brown and a question: Who is writing to him?

The note on the 29th makes him blush and hide it away immediately, safely stowing it away until he can reread it in the privacy of his bed:

“I dream of your lips. I dream of their touch, their taste, your touch and your taste, your warmth and your bite. My dreams are sweeter than reality, for in them I hold you and touch you and you hold me and touch me in return. I long for your touch, your lips on mine, your body against mine, kiss chased by kiss, touch chasing touch. Would you also dream of me, I wonder?”

The handwriting on the note on the 30th is shaky, for once not smoothed out by a quill’s magic:

“I’m scared shitless, if you want to know the truth. I’m scared you’ll laugh in my face, or politely turn me down. It’s why I kept quiet for so long—it’s easier to dream when it’s just a dream. Reality threatens to turn the dream into a nightmare and I’m scared that instead of loving me, you’ll hate me.”

The note on the 31st, Halloween, is the shortest of them all:

“Meet me in the kitchens after classes?”

Stiles is a nervous mess for the rest of the day, which is a shame because he loves Halloween, and what’s better than Halloween in a castle with actual witches and wizards and ghosts? He’s sure his site is going to bruise because Lydia has elbowed him so often to draw his attention back to the here and now. Thankfully none of his teachers notice his distraction or he might have ended up getting detention and having to stand up his secret admirer.

It’s the thought that dominates his mind the whole day: Today he’ll get to meet his secret admirer. It makes the note he got yesterday suddenly so much more relatable, because as excited as Stiles is at that prospect, he’s also scared shitless. What if it was all big prank after all? What if he’ll come into the kitchen and it’s a bunch of Seventh Year Slytherins who’ll laugh at him and his romantic naivety? Or what if he does actually have a secret admirer, but it’s someone he can’t stand?

And what if it’s someone he likes? Somehow that’s the scariest option of them all.

The day both creeps and speeds by, every second lasting hours and every hour over in seconds and before Stiles knows it, he’s standing in front of the painting that hides the entrance to the kitchens and is trying to get his breathing under control. He didn’t know if this was a date, so he didn’t dress up, but he also didn’t know if it wasn’t a date, so he at least cleaned up after classes were over, wanting to look if not his best, then at least good. He’d probably have to settle for acceptable, but his secret admirer surely knew what they were getting themselves into.

Finally Stiles plucks up his courage and tickles the pear in the portrait.

The kitchens are as warm and friendly as ever, busy with the dinner preparations, but the house elves welcoming and excited to greet a guest nevertheless. This time he doesn’t get directed towards a table, though, but to a small door near the end of the kitchen that he’s never before noticed. When he steps through, he finds himself in another kitchen, much smaller, more like one you’d find in a regular household. It is filled with candles and magical Halloween decorations - bats flying just under the ceiling, dramatic cobwebs hanging over the cabinets, and pumpkins of all shapes, colours, and sizes everywhere.

And in the middle of the room stands Derek Hale, slightly pale but for his red ears. He is cautiously smiling at Stiles, as if he’s unsure of Stiles’ reaction still.

“Hello,” he says and Stiles answers dumbly: “Hi,” overwhelmed by the situation still.

“I know Halloween is your favourite holiday and as we can’t go trick and treating here, I thought we might carve some pumpkins together and just, talk?” Derek continues and Stiles blinks as he’s trying to process all of this.

“You are my secret admirer?” he asks finally and Derek actually blushes and ducks his head.

“Yes, I am. Sorry, I probably should have said that first thing. I hope you are not disappointed now.”

“Dude, no!” Stiles exclaims and immediately wants to kick himself, because really, ‘Dude’? “I’m not disappointed, seriously, so not disappointed, I’m just trying to wrap my head around this still. You are actually interested in me? Like, for real?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say with the gifts and notes,” Derek replies and Stiles nods, mentally going back through all the gifts. So many of them make sense now that he knows they came from Derek, like the quill right at the beginning, or the broom servicing kit after their first game together. There’s just one question left:

“But how did you get them into my room? Do you know our password?”

Derek shakes his head.

“I asked Boyd and Isaac to help me. They would leave them on your bed for me.”

“That dick!” Stiles exclaims and quickly adds in explanation: “Isaac said ‘Ew, no’ when I asked him if he had anything to do with it, the dick.”

“Where you hoping he was giving you gifts?” Derek asks, his face suddenly blank, and Stiles vehemently shakes his head.

“God no, we’re friends, but no, really no.” He hesitates a moment but then decides it’s time for him to be brave, not just Derek, and says quietly: “I wasn’t hoping it was you either, but only because I didn’t dare to. I didn’t want to be disappointed if it was anyone but you. I’m very, very happy that it was you after all now, though.”

Derek ducks his head, but Stiles can still see the smile that’s stretching his lips and impulsively reaches out to grab his hand. After a moment of surprised stillness, Derek intertwines their fingers and squeezes gently. Stiles squeezes back, suddenly very giddy, and says:

“Now, you promised me pumpkin carving. I demand the biggest pumpkin—I’m going to make a dragon!”

“You can have all the pumpkins you want,” Derek promises and Stiles has to dart forward and press a kiss to his lips. It’s just a peck and it’s only just Halloween, but with the sense of how Derek’s smile tastes and feels burned into his brain, Stiles feels as though Christmas has come early.

Perhaps a dragon won’t be the first thing he carves after all.

A heart seems much more appropriate.

You can find the rest of my Sterekweek fics here!

#Sterekweek2018 #sterekwitchhunt #sterekhalloween4 #Sterek #teen wolf #my Sterek fic #my fic #my Sterekweek fic #this week wasn't great for my sleeping schedule #it is now 3am #but I did write almost 13k over the last seven days so that's definitely an achievement #happy reading!

156 notes · View notes

writr4luvrs · 6 years ago

Text

Request: Nisha finds a young child and takes them in.

{\}

Being alone is what you've had to deal with since the orphanage shut down, your care taker rain into debt, and no one was going to consider taking in a child that was "too old". One by one the children were either getting jobs, leaving the city to join the bandits, or were just... gone. Soon, you had to leave the city because you weren't contributing to the cycle of economics.

In the beginning, living outside the city sucked: being constantly shot by bandits especially since you were part of a bandit gang, having to live in constant war for territory; nearly suffocating, either cause you lost track of time or you bandit brothers and sisters wanted to prank you; or constantly being nearly eaten by the Elpis' many creatures. Though, one bandit treated you different, teaching you everything she knew about Oz kits and how to make them last, how to add mods to them, or how to make them simply explode. She was a great teacher... until she died while joyriding off a cliff in a moon buggy (the way she wanted). After the incident you left the bandit gang and walk, stole a buggy til it ran out of gas, and found a garage in a not so quiet area.

You turned it into your own shop using your knowledge of Oz kits, and despite selling the kits, earning what little credits you could, life outside the city still fucking sucked. And, hey, maybe it got worse once a few bandits started becoming aware that maybe your kits were maybe rigged to fail over a period of time so that maybe the bandits would come back and maybe you could earn a few extra alleged credits.

"You little shit..." one of the six bandits growl at you while the rest thought to trash your garage. You thought you could just con me out of my fucking money?!" he grabs you up by the collar, god you hope he doesn't punch you again.

"You signed a warranty." You recall the paper with a handwritten sentence that stated "No refunds" with just a line underneath it for signature. "I can't read, asshole." He replies. You pause, haven't thought of that before.

"Well... I don't understand how that's my fau-" earning you another punch in the face and you thrown to the floor. While lying there, thinking over all that had happened the last few months to avoid this very moment. You tilt your head up to the sound of a gun cocking and see that it's aimed at you. The sight makes you start to silently cry, making it hard for you to breathe, you didn't want to die. Seconds before he's able to pull the trigger, he turns around to the gunshots and his crew yelling at someone. You use this opportunity to run, earning bullets in your direction and as you take cover behind a toppled over desk, and peaking over you see a brown woman in a cowboy hat. It was like everything was in slow motion as you watched her take out the gang so... easily. The show was interrupted as a bandit falls in front of you, eyes rolled and tongue out of their mouth.

You gag at the sight, you want to throw up but you feel like you've run out of fluids due to the earlier punches to your stomach.

Within seconds, everything was quiet until you hear footsteps in your direction and the desk is kicked and you no longer have your cover, finally getting a clear look at the woman, immediately blurting the words: "Are you emo?" earning you a scowl. "The one eye covered is kind out of style don't you think?"

"Hey, at least mine is clean, kid." she responds, you hint that she's amused. "And that's not how you respond to someone that just saved you."

"It's the trauma and shock talking, besides I had everything handle."

"Did you?" she refers to the tear streaks, bruises, and the destroyed garage.

"Downsides of being an entrepreneur."

"Sad to see the job officially over."

"Huh?" You question as you move amongst the garage to pick up some valuables, sad when you see the only baby picture of you crumbled.

"Putting it blunt, I'm being paid to keep your little ass from continuing your independent business."

"Says who?!"

"Says the credits sent to my account, you're lucky I don't kill you like ordered and if I don't someone else..." she nods to the dead. "will." She looks around, opening lockers for anything that will aid her in her journey, she was leaving. She was right, you knew more bandits would come and if not bandits, assassins like her who would kill you for their capitalist employer. You dropped the no longer valuables and grabbed your bug out backpack, you're going with the cowgirl.

The cowgirl steps out of the garage, her Oz kit activating and you followed, your Oz kit activating as well. "What are you doing?" she questions after taking no more than a couple steps.

"What are you doing?" you question back.

"Walking." she answers, continuing her journey, taking a few glances over her shoulder seeing as you continued to follow her steps. She turns around to pick you up, retrace her steps and place you back at the garage before she continued only for you to continue following her. "No, no. I am not playing mother duck."

"Well, I can't stay at the garage."

"Then go to Concordia."

"I can't and won't."

"Well, you can't follow me!"

"I don't want to be alone." She replies by throwing her head back and letting out a loud groan.

"I might actually kill you..." she mutters. "You can't follow me, I do bad people stuff."

"Yeah..." you blink.

"I kill and have killed hundreds of people and creatures, gone to many dangerous lands, and have agreed to illegal deals for a lucrative amounts of credits, you will not follow me." You give her a silence and a slow blink, you began dissociating at the word 'have' and she realized you weren't listening and sighs. "The moment we get somewhere safe and quiet, you are to stay there and not follow me.

And you followed, even after finding the seemingly unquiet and high temperature place she wanted to dump you at, you continued to follow her, learning her name was Nisha and she was a vault hunter.

At one point she got sick of it and threatened her way into getting you a "free" stay in Concordia of the now dead Mayor and Sheriff's luxury apartment. You stay there happily and took every moment to be at her side whenever she visited the small city, asking her about her journey, her guns, her hat, her make up, her friends, etc. It bugged her, she even yelled at you due to her annoyance. She yelled, calling you a bother and wished you'd stop pestering her. It took one of her colleague to get her to stop.

The incident made you embarrassed, it hurt you, making you leave the city, getting barley lost, distracting you by throwing rocks at small alien pests. Despite your efforts to get closer to her, you were still alone. You sit in the moon's dirt and hug your knees, drawing in the dirt slowly, ignoring the fast falling stars and quickly darkened sky only for you to be picked up by your collar and look eye to eye to Nisha. "Where have you been? You know it's dangerous to leave the city?!" Only responding to her was a pouty face and eyes that looked away from her, she let you go and sighs, a hand on her hip.

Nisha knew why and unknowingly to you, it upset her that she automatically compared herself to a deceased relative. A moment passed before a quick "Sorry" left her and she grabs your hands to guide you back to the city. "Don't leave again, it's too dangerous and you can get hurt and..." she stops her rambling. "Just don't, not without me and not without protect." She takes you to Moxxi's bar and you both sit at the bar in silence for a moment before she orders two shots of sambuca, you smelt the scent even before Nisha handed one to you.

"I'm going to say this once, look at me," she begins, making sure you have her strict attention. "You will not leave this city without me until you are old enough and well and ready to protect yourself. I will train you and you are not to question me, I'm teaching you to survive, understand?" You give a hesitant nod as an answer. "I want to hear you."

"Yes... I understand."

"Good, now drink fast." she downs the shot before setting the glass on the bar, she waits for you.

"It smells bad." she grins, waiting for you. You down the shot as quickly as possible, making a face and sticking out your tongue in disgust, earning a chuckle from Nisha. She places a hand on your head giving a proud "good." It isn't even a minute later before you run outside the bar and throw up in the nearest corner.

"It was one shot...to be fair it was sambuca." she guides your dizzy figure to your home and gets you in bed.

"I don't want to drink sambuca again."

"That's fair, it was only an agreement."

"I don't have to call you mom do I?"

"Please don't."

"Now I have to call you mom, mom."

"Stop." she sings before turning out your lamp light.

"With auntie Athena and and uncle Wilhelm."

"And cousin claptrap.."

"...Nevermind." you fall asleep.

#borderlands #nisha the lawbringer #nisha kadam #borderlands the pre sequel #handsome jack #nisha kadam aesthetic #mine #original

19 notes · View notes

turnertimeline · 7 years ago

Text

Intimacy

Prompt fill for : @clonethemidwife

“Turnadette intimacy! Any kind is cool, but esp interested post-Janie arriving... both like kisses and bum grabs and all that in front of her and their fears that she can hear them having private time”

This is timeline compliant. We’ve actually talked a lot about how Janie is so unused to the easy type of physical love Patrick and Shelagh have. Their hand holding, soft kisses, the almost slow dance pose they stand in a lot. Eventually Janie does a lot of drawings of them in those situations, as art is her way of working through her feelings and processing life in general.

~mod s

Shelagh's in the kitchen washing up after dinner and Patrick comes downstairs. And just silently walks up behind her to wrap his arms around her. Janie's on the sofa, watching, journal on her lap.

Shelagh leans back into him for a moment, hands not pausing in the washing up. Janie can just hear the soft giggle when Patrick nuzzles into her neck, breathing tickling, and Patrick's answering chuckle.

Janie stiffened the moment she saw Patrick head towards Shelagh. She was expecting to hear harsh tones, maybe see Shelagh flinch. She had not been expecting to see Shelagh drop the dish back into the sink and lean back into Patrick like that.

Shelagh turns over her shoulder and flicks soapy water suds into Patrick's face with a laugh, eyes glinting playfully.

Janie hears Patrick scoff and braces herself. This can't just end in playfulness. Can it?

Patrick reaches around her to tip his hands in the kitchen sink as well and flick some back. "Two can play at that game, Mrs Turner."

Shelagh laughs and ducks under his arm out of his reach. Grabbing the towel from her shoulder she brandishes it him. "Patrick Turner, don't you dare!"

Patrick laughs, head thrown back. "You started it!" He flicks his fingers at her again, laughing when she darts out of the way again.

She slips behind him, winding the towel up a little before flicking it out and hitting Patrick's ass.

He stands up straight and looks completely offended and shocked by his wife's boldness.

His expression makes Shelagh dissolve into giggles, her elbows on the counter to keep herself upright as she laughs.

Janie barely holds back a terrified noise when Patrick had stood up straight. She didn't recognize the glint in his eyes as joy.

Patrick turns on his heels and heads towards Shelagh.

"That's it!" He half laughs as he wraps his arms around her middle and lifts her clear off the floor.

Leading Shelagh to let out a very undignified noise.

"PUT HER DOWN!" Janie cries as she runs to Patrick and grabs onto his arm, trying to break his grip on Shelagh.

They both freeze and stare down at her. They'd both forgotten she was there. Shelagh looks worried and a little horrified, and Patrick looks almost *sick*

He lets go of Shelagh immediately and backs up several steps.

"Janie, dear..." Shelagh says, softly, into the resulting quiet.

Janie backs up, starting to shake.

"I'm sorry." She says, voice barely above a whisper.

And getting quieter as she keeps repeating it.

Shelagh shares a glance with Patrick. She extends a hand but doesn't move any closer to Janie, ro try and touch her.

"Shh, Janie. It's alright. You don't have anything to apologise for. I'm sorry we scared you." Shelagh says.

Janie just shakes her head and wraps her arms around herself.

Patrick takes a deep breath and sends Shelagh a slightly wobbly smile. "Yell if you need me. I'll give you two some space."

As he passes by Shelagh he places a hand gently on her shoulder and kisses the top of her head. Janie looks up in time to see Shelagh lean into him a little.

Shelagh pats his hand on her shoulder for a moment and then Patrick disappears upstairs.

She turns to Janie with a gentle and worried expression. Almost her nurses expression

"Janie..." she starts.

Janie turns to look at her, tears have begun to fall and she's still shaking.

"I'm sorry we frightened you. It's alright. Patrick was only teasing. *I* was only teasing him."

"He grabbed you.....it didn't hurt?" Janie asks quietly.

Shelagh shakes her head. "Didn't hurt at all. He just lifted me up."

"It sounded...." janie trails off and wipes at her face.

"I know. I'm sorry. We should have been more careful about making you feel safe.Would you like some tea? “

Janie shakes her 'no' head but slowly walks back to the sofa and curls back up on the end where she had dropped her journal to the floor.

Shelagh nods and busies herself making two cups of tea, one for herself and one to take up to Patrick. She passes Janie on the sofa on her way up the stairs. "Would you like some company?"

Without looking up, Janie nods her head but keeps her focus on her journal.

"I'll be back down shortly, just going to take tea to Patrick." Shelagh says, lifting the cup in emphasis even though Janie still isn't looking at her.

Shelagh passes Patrick the tea and kisses his temple.

"Just going to sit with her for a bit."

Patrick nods and lifts up his reading material. "I'll be here with the Lancet if you need me."

Shelagh gives him a quick kiss and goes back down to where Janie is sketching, settling on the other end of the sofa with her tea

The two sit in quiet. Shelagh tries, and fails, to not watch Janie as she sketches.

She notices that every so often Janie stops drawing and clenches the pen in her hand before pressing the end into her covered leg.

It's a ball point, and Shelagh noticed that Janie clicked the nib back into place before pushing the tip into her leg.

Shelagh didn't realize what she was doing at first.

Janie feels Shelagh's eyes on her and looks up, expression a little guarded and wary. She's starting to believe Shelagh won't hurt her, but...

She shouted.

And put her hands on Patrick

She's waiting to be told to get the rice.

Shelagh smiles when Janie looks up. "What are you drawing today?"

Janie shrugs. "Nothing really."

But it's patricks hand on Shelagh's shoulder. And there is no grip, no wrinkle in the bit of drawn cloth where fingers would he digging in.

It just seems so... She feels like she's never seen that before

Gentle seemed like too soft a word for how his hand was on her shoulder.

And how he kissed her hair before going upstairs.

There had been no shouting other than her own outburst.

No smack across the face.

No repentance.

Nothing

She's not... She's still waiting for the other shoe to drop

"You're safe here." Shelagh says after a few moments of silence. "Patrick never meant me any harm."

"Sometimes we get a bit....carried away. Forget other people are around, or that it could be taken in way that was not intended."

"I... He. You were doing things to antagonise him." She doesn't mean it in an accusing way, it's just. What she's come to expect

"Yes, but because I know he would never strike out at me. We tease each other, always have." Shelagh says turning to face Janie a little more. The movement makes Janie lower he gaze to her journal again.

"I was nervous as soon as he came up behind you. I think you thought he might shout about the dishes not being done."

Shelagh grins a little. "He knows better than to bother me about the dishes."

Janie looks up again at that and sees the look on Shelagh's face.

"He can do them if he does." Shelagh laughs a little.

"Patrick would never shout about house chores being done. He might be stern with the children for their rooms not being picked up when they've been told." Her expression and voice turn serious.

Janie swallows. "I heard him tell Angela off about all her paper. Bit he didn't - didn't smack her or make her - anything."

"He will never raise a hand to anyone. Not me, not you, or the children. I promise you."

Janie swallows again and looks down at her journal. She turns to a new page and Shelagh sees her hand moving quickly over the paper.

Janie's not drawing anything, not really. Just trying to escape the sudden onslaught of memories.

"Would you like some time alone?" Shelagh asks her quietly.

When Janie doesn't answer, Shelagh doesn't leave.

But she makes an effort again to not watch her.

Janie slowly relaxes a little with shelagh just sitting with her quietly, sipping her tea. After a while Shelagh pulls out the patching and hems she needs to finish. Angela and Teddy run through hems and torn knees at a ridiculous rate.

After maybe half an hour Janie stands up and says quietly that she's going to head to bed.

Shes half way to the stairs before she turns and says "Shelagh?"

Shelagh look up and turns towards her. "Yes dear?"

"Thank you."

Shelagh smiles. "You're welcome, Janie."

Janie doesn't go to sleep right away, she stays up drawing and writing.

And she hears when Shelagh goes to bed as well, not long after. Janie notes that she hears Shelagh stop at Angie and Teddys rooms.

Just for a few moments and the creak of the door, and then Shelagh carries on to the master bedroom

Shelagh is not surprised that Patrick is still awake.

He sets down the Lancet as she joins him in bed after she’s changed into night clothes and opens his arms, inviting her cuddle close.

She does, leaning her head against his shoulder with a sigh after kissing him softly.

"I think she's okay. Angela and Teddy are sound asleep."

"I feel horrible for frightening her." Patrick says. "I never meant....I wasn't thinking and I should have been..."

Shelagh sighs. "Not your fault. There were always going to be... Wobbles, while we adjusted."

"I was the one who encouraged you", anyway."

"Encourage you did. You little minx." Patrick chuckles kissing her head.

Shelagh chuckles back, amused. "I think I managed to reassure her."

"I hope so. Seeing her so scared.....I never want to be the cause of that again."

Shelagh kisses his shoulder. "Me neither."

#turner timeline #ctm #call the midwife #turnadette #prompt fill

17 notes · View notes

paladinsheadcanons · 8 years ago

Note

Mod mal' damba im in love with your ZhinxYing please do another one xD i was in a 4v5, 3 flanks 1 sup( me) match that made me angry and frustrating then i accidently read your fic it felt like the cancer that match gave me was cured <3

Because the lovely anon asked. I hope your games have been going better since! I put in some Zhin-and-Ying-kicking-butt action in for you since I think you wanted to kick those players hard. - Mod Mal'Damba-----It was early into Friday night that the Paladins hit the bars again, venturing into the town that remained near Splitstone Quarry. New arenas meant new places to explore, new restaurants to find and new bars to discover. Following dinner the group split off as they always did, Zhin inviting Ying with him for the night."Just the two of us?" Ying asked as she followed Zhin into the streets of the Quarry's town. It was a small place, nothing particularly exciting though the townspeople themselves were rather curious about the arrival of the Paladins."Why, do you want someone else to come along?" Zhin responded. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "We can go look for the others if that is what you want."Ying shook her head. "No, it's just... Well, nothing. Never mind." She turned her head away, trying to hide the warmth she felt in her cheeks that was almost certainly visible. She really did want to be with just him, but she didn't imagine it would actually happen.They weaved through unfamiliar streets, exploring as much as they could. They ducked into shops when either of them felt like exploring, Ying usually making small talk with the owners while Zhin just lurked around.The deeper they ventured into the small town, the less populated and stranger it felt. Lively buildings turned derelict, unpopulated and abandoned. Lights faded from the streets, but all the same the sense of mystery lured then further in like some secret was hidden beyond it all. They were so absorbed by the darkness of it all they failed to see shadowy figures following them.Ying froze up as she heard the soft patter of light, quick footsteps. Her grip around Zhin's arm tightened, alerting the swordsman. "Zhin? I think someone's following us."Immediately Zhin's hand went to the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it if anyone showed up. The blade was drawn as four nasty little wraith wolves hopped out of the darkness, lips curled back in ugly snarls and drool dripping from their mouths."Oh, these things," Zhin muttered. "I hope you have your mirror, Ying." Ying hurriedly summoned her mirror, nodding to Zhin. "Only you can kill them by shattering your illusions. I can only distract them. Wait for my signal."Zhin broke off fron Ying, swinging at the wraiths. Their smoky bodies dematerialised and vanished, the steel blade only swiping through air. When the wraiths came back together, they hounded after Zhin."Zhin!" Ying cast an illusion, shattering it early to try get the wraiths off his trail. The single illusion exploded, barely injuring any of them though the wolves yelped in surprise and anger, one of then turning away from Zhin and coming after the Blossom.Zhin growled at Ying not waiting. "I told you to wait!" He snapped. "Just kill that one first!" He continued to swing at the shadowy wisps of smoke, keeping them from forming a whole as long as possible.Ying cast another illusion. The wraith stared in confusion at the two, snarling and leaping for the illusion as it rushed towards it. The wolf leapt up, snapping its jaws down on the illusion as it shattered. There was a blast of light and a horrid shriek as the wraith was destroyed, the last wisps of smoke fading from the air.Still, the danger was not over. There were still three wraiths left to deal with. "Zhin, what do I do?" She called."Cast as many illusions as you can! And only shatter then when I say so!" Angered, the wraiths were dodging quicker and forming back faster, lunging at Zhin and only stopping to dodge the slice of steel.Ying stressed her mirror out, casting illusion after illusion until she could make no more. The crystals embedded into the mirror could only make two at the most when within the limits of any arena, but out here they were only limited by themselves. The pink crystals pulsed with energy, only dying down when Ying had made five illusions."It's all I have!" Ying called out, shaking her mirror desperately in hopes of it recharging again, to no avail. The mirror refused to respond, its crystals depleted of energy.Zhin ran towards the illusions, luring the three wraiths after him. "Now!" As Ying shattered the illusions and they raced towards him, he billowed just as the illusions exploded right in contact with the wraiths. The ensuing flash of light was intense, sparking the entire section of the town with a flash that was gone as fast as it came. Howls resonated through the streets as the wraiths were torn apart by the burst of energy, leaving behind nothing but faint trails of smoke that quickly dissipated into darkness."Are you okay?" Ying asked, coming up to meet Zhin. The Tyrant left his smoky state, nodding."I'm fine. And you?" He sheathed his sword once more, pulling her close to check her for wounds."I'm okay Zhin. I might have to replace the crystals on my mirror though." She shook the mirror, though nothing happened. The crystals no longer shone with energy.Zhin let her go. "You did good though. You have my thanks." Gently taking her wrist, he pulled her down the street once more. "Come on, let's go find the others."

#Paladins #paladins headcanons #paladins champions of the realm #zhin #ying #paladins fics

10 notes · View notes