#dave writes things
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you've probs been told this alot but you're amazing at writing these characters!! theyre so accurate to how they actually are in homestuck its crazy did you find out andrew hussie's secret Are u andrew hussie irl?? also youre just like a super chill sweet dude you seem like the friend ever i hope you have a good day!! and i guess for a prompt could you perhaps draw out nepeta interacting with dave in some way? id like to see how you think they would!! you dont have to though
cant refuse that request... these two are a goldmine. thaks so much also that is insanely high praise i hope u realise... seriously thanks take care yourself
#dave strider#nepeta leijon#homestuck#karkat vantas#equius zahhak#i do get told that i write them well sumtimez but it never loses its punch#its kinda baffling#the thing is i only âknowâ how 2 write dave and kk
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Dave doing dad stuff has to be my favorite kind of photo
#LOOK AT THE LITTLE HANDS#RED HAIR JUST LIKE HIS#that's the cutest thing I ever found#sweet angel#dollette#dave mustaine#megadeth#70s#80s#90s#megadeth x reader#rust in peace#cryptic writings#peace sells#nick menza#marty friedman#david ellefson
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inspired by @plushrump-dot-com giving orange a SPH
#homestuck#bro strider#dave strider#smuppets#dirkselbows.art#it's kinda low effort (or at least refusing on trying to make things *perfect* cuz I cant make them perfect anyways so i may as well-#-preserve my energy) but here you go#dave looks somehow older then i meant him to look??? Well it doesnt really matter here#im sure somebody who knows what they are doing could write the dialogs way better#unfortunetwlly youre stuck with me <3
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90s/early 2000s megachurch pastor john irving getting absolutely obliterated in some dingy roadside motel room after a service. you agree
#grace.txt#please tell me someone has done this type of AU. or do i need to#what writing a fic bc two (2) people liked your tags + adderall + watching DM's Devotional tour movie does to a mf#seriously if you have never seen dave gahan's slutty little velvet suit + cross choker stripped off over course of show before. please do s#shit just watch Devotional it's on youtube. i have it playing in the bg of doing things at LEAST once a week bc i'm a very normal boy#the terror#john irving
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i cracked the code.
#believing dirk is the worst guy because its what dirk thinks of himself#ignoring daves bisexuality and think hes a gay man in denial even when he explained hes bisexual#believing john 'im not a homosexual' egbert is explicitly straight while he makes out with his mcconahey and cameron posters more#than he kissed women(literally only once)#believing that rose is an edgy psyhcotic little bitch when she was neglected. she speaks elegantly to cover that shes silly and a total ner#and how did people forget that rose also writes gay wizard fanfiction. reads Wikipedia. and her beautiful artstyle as a result of neglect#(and by neglect meaning having SO MUCH TIME to draw)#jake wasnt into dirk. he also told di that he didnt like how brobot getting touchy with him during strifes#but as part of the repression 4(prospit kids). he refused on changing the bot settings#what jane said about roxy being better when she was drunk. it was fucking sarcasm. its the least insane shit you could say to a best friend#all the kids have issues and of course people get mad over a girl being sarcastic.#when KARKAT said THE SAME THING to rose when she was drunk on the meteor nobody bats an eye#trolls are just grey humans that are bugs. he doesnt get an excuse for being an alien. humans were made from KARKATS BLOOD#jade isnt all silly girl and is so FULL OF HATE towards the trolls. she called karkat a fuckass (VERY FUNNY) to do her a favor#âjade would rather have punched karkat in the fact then had a pleasent conversation with him.â#âshe viewed the trolls as rude mean and cruel. and even thought that nepeta was just making fun of her.#despite it being that nepeta just wanted to roleplay and have fun."#dred.loki#I HAVE YET TO ADD MORE. THESE ARE JUST NOTES#homestuck#chss
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Fucked up creature that spawns from the Ultimate Weapon after four souls stew in it for God knows how long honestly
#homestuck#artblocked#fanart#homestuck fanart#john egbert#rose lalonde#dave strider#jade harley#ultimate weapon#i had a thought at like 5 am and went âholy shit i have to draw thisâ so it is a bit bad#sorry i just can't draw well when i don't sleep at night lol#it just seemed so fucking cool but ill probably just forget about it later once i fall asleep officially#does this count as an au#no idea#i guess since im not really gonna write anything about this thing right now no not really?#i really tried to mix all of the animal parts evenly lolll#rose is a horse because of maplehoof honestly#im tired of cat rose#roxy is the cat!!!! she has a literal cat as her symbol!!!!!!!!!#so horse rose#i get the feeling that rose would turn out to be a horse girl in some other timeline ngl#she just seems like she would be one either out of spite or geniune horse love#im babbling lmaoooo this is what i get for not fucking sleeping lol#first fish rose... then horse rose#im doing everything in my power to avoid cat rose bro#the rest are obvious i dont need to explain why jades a dog#or why daves a crow#or even why johns a bunny#anyway vote on their name and/or title#coolest one i pick
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Thank you all for the tags @itwasntimethatdidit40 @jeewrites @iamasaddie @sixhours @guiltyasdave and shoutout to @jolapeno for starting this tootathon off đ«¶đ»đđ»
(Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the divider đ©”)
So Iâm not good at tooting myself enough, but I think I and all you should do that more often. Thereâs a lot energy, time and thought going into the creating process and this commitment deserves to be recognized. Letâs toot ourselves as much as we want đ«¶đ»đ€Łđđ»đđ§ââïž
Anyway, this has been a wild year both online and in private. I never thought I would be here, in this current position đł
Iâve only started writing this year, my first published Fic came out in July and yet it feels like wayyyyy more time has passed. đ
You know, all my life Iâve never imagined to be someone that will be important or memorable. But when I entered this corner of tumblr that changed, yeah tumblr might not compare to crazy real life achievements, but to me itâs a big thing. Here I am someone, people recognize my name and Iâve met so many incredible people, made so many great friends and found a place amongst you all. Thank youđ„čđ«
I hope all of you know, how much I love you all
XOXO Mina
Joel Miller
Runaway ButterflyđŠ (Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x f!oc)
Bigger than the whole sky đ & The Night We Metđ (Dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader)
Little Freakđ& Secrets and Liesđ(Gilf!Joel Miller x f!reader + in pt.2 Dilf!Jack Miller)
Washing Machine Heart đ©¶ (Momâs Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader)
Heart to Heart đ€ (Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)
Iâll Make You Love Međ (Bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader)
Make Daddy Proud đŠ (Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader)
Birds of a Feather đâïž (Single!Joel Miller x 2 married F!OCs)
Steal Your Girl đ„ (Hookup!Joel Miller x f!reader)
Dave York
How far does the dark go? đ€ (Dave York x f!reader)
Doctorâs Pet đ (Doctor!Dave York x nurse!reader)
Npt: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @thundermartini @msjarvis @sanarsi @beardedjoel @mrsmando @pedgito @syd-djarin @sin-djarin @mountainsandmayhem @penascigarette @joelsgreenflannel @amanitacowboy @macfrog @kiwisbell @cavillscurls @joelsdagger @punkshort @pedrospatch @honeyedmiller @joeloverture @toxicanonymity @joelstummy @moonlitbirdie @pedropeach @morallyinept @ozarkthedog @almostfoxglove @ovaryacted @ace-turned-confused @strang3lov3 @wintrwinchestr @tightjeansjavi @gutsby @lotusbxtch @sunshineispunk @hellishjoel @shellshocklove @magpiepills @604to647 @secretelephanttattoo đ©”
#tag game#favorite 2024 things#Tootathon đ„łđ„łđ„ł#joel miller#Dave York#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#writing#joel miller smut#dave york smut
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Day 2 â GAME: Scribbl Io
For @davekatweek
I had a vision and ran with it. Crashed into a tree on my way here but there it is.
#davekatweek#davekatweek2024#davekat#dave strider#karkat vantas#homestuck#thinking of every way to say the word dick in four letters but giving up at the end and just writing john was quite a power move on my part#well not really but that surely felt like a cool thing to say
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Cross-Cultural Media Analysis: Chapter Two
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: Homestuck Relationship: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Dave panics about the reveal of the real meaning behind his work, and finds comfort in a shared movie night.
Chapter two of CCMA is up now! First narrative chapter of the fic wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!
#davekat#davekat fanfic#davekat fic#homestuck#homestuck fanfic#homestuck fic#dave strider#karkat vantas#my fic#ccma#im so fucking hype for this thing to rly hit the tracks waugh#im currently writing chapters 9/10 and everything up to 5 is coded and edited#chapters 5 and 7 have ILLUSTRATIONS thats how entrenched i am#also i fixed the links in the prologue and chapter 1 i didnt realise they werent displaying properly#should be good now! cant believe my excellent joke links were hidden smh#im still gigglin bout kanayas readmore im proud of that
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champagne coast / kirk
thereâs a specific vibe i went for in this, and i donât know if i manage to express it properly but..those coming of age movie parties with jeff buckley in the soundtrack ^.^ you get me?? this is my first time trying to write something longer than 400 words in a looong while, so pls bare with me and my clusters of infinite mistakes lol
reblogs, likes, comments and asks are all highly appreciated! if this gets some interactions i may do a part 2 with..fun stuff wink wink!! i also apologise for how rushed the ending is, but i gave up lol
summary: you meet a cute guitarist at a party, thatâs about it ^.^
word count; 4.2k
warnings; mentions of drugs, smoking (tobacco+marijuana, reader+kirk smoke cigs)
i have not proofread this yet so expect mistakes!!
the summer breeze is discouraging. desolate plants are surviving just barely under the malicious sun, like a record that just keeps on playing; the aftermath of the music, the seconds of muffled silence as the vinyl spins effortlessly, and you know you should just get up and remove the stylus, because the impracticalness of such a simple act of futility, could end up with a damaged record. and no one wants a damaged record.
thereâs often a local yearn for the heat, summer always seeming too far away in winter, as the miserable humidity is replaced with a sharp winter, ice flakes cutting like blades, which to some, would be considered worse. and to this sum, the summer breeze may be a blessing.
everything about this place could be deemed as overstimulating. from the immense mass of people, all in garments that would never live to see the day in a public place, with such little material- could these things really be considered as clothes? and judging by the majority of party-goers, your opinion would be considered unpopular.
the concrete is hot to touch- the unsteady porch not doing much to help. itâs slightly better than inside the house, though.
it isnât too big, itâs just too small. a perfectly adequate residence for someone in their mid 20s to occupy, and it looks it too. the entryway of the house is not only filled with coats and others of the sort, but all 4 of the cream coloured walls are adorned in posters. some are easily known- you recognise one in particular as a promotional poster for a new thrash band, the logo on the corner signifying that whoever owns this, got it fresh from a record store window.
entering though the hallway into the kitchen felt like a treacherous task for you, under the oppressive temperatures. sporting this thin sweater may have not been the right choice, you criticise.
thereâs a table in the kitchen. well, the remains of a table. empty beer cans are scattered across, and a half full bowl of punch sits, patiently waiting for its next victim to intoxicate with its high levels of ethanol, and god knows what else. you pondered if fresh orange juice was used, or artificial.
you feel their eyes on you before you see it. and then a hands reaching out to you. skinny, nimble fingers connected to a tanned wrist, paired with a couple dainty, gold, probably fake, bracelets. and that tanned wrist connects to an equally tan body, (of course.)
you look at her quizzically. sheâs got flowing hair, brown ribbons of curl that shone with an orange tint under the shitty, dingy lamp illuminating the cramped room. and then you gazed up at her again.
do you know her? does she know you?
staring unblinkingly at her, you realise, is probably very much off putting. itâs hard to take kindness from strangers, well, for most people. itâs even harder to tell if that kindness is genuine. you believe in the idea, quality, or quantity. at least thatâs what you tell yourself- and it maybe the whole reason you ended up in this predicament.
sheâs got a man on her arm. heâs tall, well, heâs taller than both you, and her. his long, blonde hair is looking a little ratty, and you know she must have thought the same too. you can also tell heâs been trying to grow out a âhorse-shoeâ moustache, judging by the minor prickles of hair, and the subtle shaping.
heâs looking at you like a guard dog- and his expression is fully straight. you canât tell if heâs one of those people, that show a hard exterior, but really, is the complete opposite, or, if he is really a dick and is gonna punch you if you stare any longer. choosing a safe option, you glance back at her.
âhere,â she nudges you again. oh, sheâs got a cup. itâs one of those cheap, red plastic cups you always see in the movies- the frat party ones. her presence is warm. she smiles warmly. is that a thing?
âget yourself a drink.â and then sheâs opening up the palm of your hand, and tightening your fingers around the plastic rim.
you hum in surprise. itâs not every day a complete stranger is nice to you. infact, you can only count one specific time where this happened before. the one time that led to you coming to this party, through the kindness of a once mutual, now, you felt comfortable enough to consider, just a friend.
âoh! thank you.â you give the best, closed mouth wide smile you can, though it seems more like a grimace.
she doesnât care. theyâre already gone.
the next room is slightly more interesting than the last, a blue strobe light left in the corner. thought itâs not glowing in multi colours like it should be, instead itâs just illuminating the room, which could be the antithesis of something spacious, in a pale blue hue. itâs reflecting off onto an old, worn leather couch with multiple holes, which you can only assume are from cigarette stubs.
the whole house has some sort of retro style, which you appreciate.
the summer breeze, once discouraging, now borderlining on something sinister. could the sun really have malicious intent? or is the world just hell bent against you?- with your fashion choices not accommodated to the ever changing weather.
you pass a couple of groups- they donât look older than you, though they donât look younger. but the bodies on bodies is all too much to handle, when everyoneâs body temperature has accumulated into one big cacophony, a spell for disaster.
every thing was getting too much.
the grandfather clock standing proud, ticking in a futile rhythm, back and forth, on and off, a constant reminder of the stench of sweat covered bodies and the metallic aroma of almost empty cans of beer, for the sticky residue left behind, which had escaped out of one too many discarded cans, and seeped into possibly every material in this cramped hole of a living space. the longer this party would go on, the harder it would be to call this room a living space. scrap that, this is an un-liveable space.
the atmosphere was fine. the people were fine. everything was fine minding itâs own, but together, seeming like a recipe for a symphony of destruction.
luckily for you, there was an out.
big wooden doors, with bigger glass panels, providing the only symbol of a once eloquent residence. the whole house was, well, not modern, but in a sense it didnât carry this vintage-ness; like the decorations of choice did- so it was a nice touch. at least you thought.
and those big wooden doors, led you to your freedom, or in other words, the patio.
upon first examination, the garden was split into two groups. the outdoor couch sitting area, which provided just as many cigarette burns as the excuse of a couch inside, but longer, presenting itself in an âLâ shape. and on this couch, sprawled out were a group of people, all comfortable in very, odd? positions. wait, on a different thought, not all.
he was very pretty from a first glance, his chocolate curls fading into something more, like black ribbons of coal, though they shone with a red tinge under the harsh glow from the ongoing sunset.
you never stopped to notice the sunset.
but he looked almost rigid. he seemed reserved. he seemed different. it was like he had purposely tried to squeeze himself down the cracks of the sofa, for it to swallow him whole. but then again, he didnât seem anxious.
he held a joint between nimble fingers. from a distance, you could make out the red rashes lining them, small bloody scars, in such a recognisable pattern that you just knew all too well, he had to play guitar. often. he was having trouble smoking it, though. intimate breaths of wind cascaded his locks to cover his pretty features, sticking to his chapped lips as he brought up the blunt and examined, close and personal.
you pondered if maybe, just maybe, he was like you too. practically a stranger to this new world before your eyes, lacking the confidence to do anything to change it. sure, you were confident in yourself, there was no reason for you not to be. just, in social situations like this, it would tend to falter.
oh, wait. no, you take it back.
the guard dog from before-hand sits tall beside the curly brunette. he seems to be ranting about something. the nice girls not by his side anymore. you wonder if anything happened between them.
the ratty blonde sported a goofy grin. so you were right. a labrador in disguise. you stole a few more glances, before continuing down your trail.
you didnât think youâd fit into other group either. this was was more, energetic, a pile of sweaty messes, a cheap speaker blasting heavy metal, with a crispness to the speaker that could never be recreated with a new one, nor the sense of comfort that comes with it. something worn down, worn with love, like a jacket, peeling at the seams. a jacket thatâs been well loved by someone, despite its flaws.
it was hard to concentrate on your thoughts and breathe pure air properly with the booming deathly melodieâs of ozzy osbourne blasting, the bass managing to shake a loose rope swing hanging from an old oak tree. you thought it mustâve been a gentle reminder of childhood.
the path continued to trail on, the melancholic rock dying it by a couple slight octaves. then it ended. a large, unsteady fence stood tall, and not very proud. a bench resided, with 2 more oak trees, one on each side, in a way to protect the bench, preserve the wood from heavy sunlight.
the bench wasnât the most comfortable, but it served for what it could. it was obviously aged down through the years, so really, you couldnât complain.
the view was pretty. the sun going down, with all these people enjoying themselves, it was a gorgeous sight. though it was funny you still hadnât wandered into the small minority you knew yet. though you were growing impatient under this blanket of loneliness, itching for something that would burn, something to exhale.
the pocket of your worn jeans were loose- loose enough to know that if something wanted to fall out, by all means it could. and now, after futile attempts to find your lighter, you prayed to anyone that would listen, please say i havenât lost it.
but alas, the gods still werenât on your side. maybe it was something in the air, which bubbled up into a fit of internal rage, your three-quarters empty pack providing a strong sense of tobacco, laying lifeless in your rigid lap.
âneed a light?â
he walked up awkwardly, intertwining his hands together. his blunt was gone, whether he had finished it himself or passed it on, you didnât know. he smiled warmly, and if you blinked you wouldâve missed it.
and all of a sudden the unbearable heat was back, sending a tinge to yours cheeks, feeling like being trapped inside a car under the scorching sun- but he didnât look affected by the heat, in his black button up (half un-buttoned), infact, he looked angelic under the hues of reds, purples, and yellows, and whatever else fit into the mix.
he seemed nice; nice enough, to even suggest such an offer to a stranger.
âplease.â you mumbled, and he warmly reached his hand out, a battered, black lighter, one of the cheap ones from the convenience stores, clasped loosely. he wiggled his fingers. revealing the lighter to your gaze, he emitted that same, goofy smile, only now revealing his crooked pearls.
he sat down on the bench.
âyou donât know many people here, huh?â he questioned. though his voice wasnât judgy, nor threatening.
well, itâs great that your efforts to stay on the down low went out the door. itâs even greater to know that people have noticed your outstanding loneliness.
âis it that obvious?â
he stifled a laugh, shrugging slightly, sporting a wide grin. âthatâs okay,â he muttered. âyou know, i donât know many either.â
the reality seemed embarrassing, and with anyone else, you would never, on your own life, admit it. but somehow, in this moment, everything was different.
he fixed his posture, resting his hands in his lap, his head turned towards you. you pursed your lips, a small smile gracing. he looked down to your lap, cigarette still in your hand, and signalled for you to raise it.
you quickly caught on, assuming he would just hand you the lighter after you placed the cigarette between your lips. he did not.
instead he leaned in closer, bringing one hand to cover one side of the cigarette, the other to light it up effortlessly. oh, i guess that works too.
you took a puff, the inhale longer than the exhale, the smoke a delicious burn in your lungs. resting the cigarette between 2 nimble fingers, you bit your chapped lip.
âiâm kirk, by the way.â
âhi kirk,â you grinned, and told him your name. he grinned back.
he fiddled with his fingers, cracking his knuckles with expertise. and then he points at your shirt. âi like fleetwood mac, too.â
hanging with kirk wasnât so bad. actually it wasnât bad, not at all. somehow minutes turned into shorter minutes, 60 seconds seeming to pass all too quick. and those minutes were quickly consumed by a larger number, a black hole that could be called hours.
the night air had turned chilly, the effects of a bipolar summer very clear. the arrival of goosebumps took place, and so did a great warmth, the crackle of a fire pit, and the smell of fresh wood, the aroma of smoke. legs now touching one anotherâs as a multitude of different people sat around in criss-cross positions.
but that wasnât where you found yourself.
sitting in the passenger seat of his run down black 70s capri, a heavy scent of cologne mixed with a faint essence of weed, hanging lowly, stuck into the leather seats. the key clattered as he pushed it into the lock, the engine starting up with a fierce roar.
a conversation about music had somehow led you here, sitting almost shyly in his car, legs folded upon one another. it all started with a singular comment about fleetwood mac, and in a matter of minutes you found yourself immersed in conversation, somehow sitting close together than you had before, the heat of his breath radiating closely as he enthusiastically ranted about led zeppelin IV. and then some more, about who he believed to be his biggest inspiration, jimi hendrix.
oh yeah, you learnt he plays guitar too.
and with a declaration that he was hungry, sported with his reddened eyes, you were off. well, you were never really given the choice. your hand grasped tightly in his, excitedly taken back through the garden, through the shitty cramped living space, (and him accidentally walking into the smaller couch), back through the kitchen with bottles now empty, red plastic cups now scattered, through to the entry way. with that same, sweet thrash poster now hanging on.
and as the car roared up, so did the symphonies of rolling stones, because you canât always get what you want.
âso the blonde one, heâs your friend?â
the melody of the rolling stones, switching to the doors, a mix-tape he probably burnt himself, disrupted. god bless jim morrison.
he raised a brow, though still looking at the road ahead, answering quizzically. âwhich blonde one?â
you bit back a smile. âthe scary blonde one, with long hair. and the pretty girlfriend.â
this caused kirk to grin, shaking his head slightly to stop his hair from disrupting his view of the darkened roads. the streetlights didnât go much to help accommodate pedestrians, nor drivers. the headlights of his vintage vehicle were slightly darker than the average, but he seemed used to it.
âah, james. heâs my bandmate. scary, no, long hair, yes, girlfriend, no. he doesnât do girlfriends,â he hummed lowly. âheâs one of my bestfriends.â james. you wondered if he was still with the girl you earlier assumed to be his girlfriend.
and then you sat in silence for maybe 30 seconds, maybe a full minute, pondering your next words. he didnât seem to mind, waiting just slightly impatiently for the red light to turn green and give the get go. he rolled down the window.
âdo you do girlfriends?â you asked suddenly. the longer it took for him to form a response, the more you regretted ever asking. maybe that was too forward for a guy you hadnât even known for a full day. but then you could argue that him taking you out for dinner was even worse.
he was caught off guard, quickly masking his suprise. âiâŠdonât know,â he spun the wheel with skill as he turned left into a parking lot of a 50s presenting dinner, sporting a glowing red sign, walls painted once white now a light yellow. he stopped the car as he pulled into a parking spot, twisting the keys. the engine abruptly stopped, and so did the music. and then he turned to look at you, with a small smile. âdo you do boyfriends?â and that was when you finally made eye contact.
shrugging slightly, you looked from his eyes to your lap, and back up to his eyes again. âi donât know.â
his grin widened, and you return the gesture.
the gleaming lights of the diner held a stark contrast to the gloomy sky, the current time being in the early hours of the morning very obvious- and in a couple hours youâd start to hear the birds cheep and the sky lighten, and determine it time for bed.
he led you into the diner, holding the door open for you like a gentleman, the little bell on top of the door chiming in recognition of your arrival.
and from there he traveled with experience of the 24-hour diner, to a booth hidden in the corner, though still visible under the cream glare of the flickering lights; almost too visible, you thought, the brightness of the lights already forming a subtle headache in the back of your mind. the two comforts of the booth were separated with a nimble oak wood table, the sturdiness of it which had definitely gone down in its many years of occupying this place.
he grabs two menus before sitting down on one side of the booth, and you follow, sitting down on the other. he hands you one menu, and opens his own.
âi want a milkshake.â he murmurs, his eyes still scanning over the menu. you lean over the table, your menu left unopened, shifting slightly to examine the contents of drinks he was looking at.
âwhich flavour?â you question, slumping back into your seat.
âdunno,â he puts the menu down, looking up at you. âwhat flavour do you want?â
his eye contact is almost too much to handle, causing you to look back down at your hands. he doesnât comment on it, that is if he ever even noticed the slight tint of blush on your cheeks.
âvanilla.â throughout the options of chocolate, strawberry, and banana, thereâs a clear winner.
âthen thatâs what weâll get.â he smiles, his red hued eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins. you bite the side of your lip, suppressing a grin, sporting a one sided, shy smile as you try to resettle your composure.
you open the menu, trying to distract yourself from the flush on your cheeks and the man sitting infront of you. his curls drop down as he tries to push them out of his face, watching you almost shyly.
âwhat are you gonna get?â you voice, finally looking up from the menu.
he tucks his black coils behind his ears. âthe burger,â and then leans down slightly, his elbows making contact with the table, his eyes still on you. âdo you wanna share?â
you nod, grinning widely. âokay, weâll share.â
the diner lights flicker again, as well as the chime of the door, the slight rush of wind causing an appreciate breeze. thereâs an empty coffee cup on the bar side, and an imprint in a red stool.
adorned in a teal coloured uniform, a tired, and pissed, (probably a college student), waitress takes your order. she doesnât bother to put on a fake persona, and you donât blame her. infact, you almost feel sorry that her nap in the staff room was cut short, by the puffiness of her eyes. as for kirk, he doesnât even bat an eye at her as you order politely, his eyes still fixtated on you.
and in mere minutes the food arrives, a vanilla milkshake with a candied red cherry on top already in your grasp. kirk has taken to the task of trying to cut the burger evenly into 2 pieces, through frowns when heâs cut one slice bigger than the other. you take the smaller piece, knowing the effects of weed on your hunger. when he realises this, he pouts. âiâm not that hungry,â you explain, taking your first bite.
he pushes the fries further towards you. theyâre in a wooden tray, with a tissue adorned with patterns of red and white squares underneath. you chew throughly before swallowing, setting the burger back down on the plate.
he reaches out for a fry, surprising you when he reaches even further towards you, bringing the fry up to your mouth. you take it, giggling.
while you chew on the fry with one hand, you pick up the milkshake with the other and bring the straw to his mouth, mimicking his previous movements. he smiles widely as he takes down a big gulp, laughing through his closed mouth. âwait, thatâs so good.â
âi know!â you exclaim, taking a couple of salty fries from the bunch.
you dip a handful of fries into the milkshake, and he grimaces. âthatâs criminal!â
you roll your eyes, giggling. âno itâs not,â you dip another one in. âyou just donât have taste.â he finishes his part of the burger ravenously, and you push the plate with your half eaten burger towards him.
âare you sure?â he questions, looking for any signs of unsureness on your face.
âonly if i can have the cherry.â you bargain.
âdeal,â he picks the cherry off from the top of the milkshake, wiping the whipped cream off from it with his finger, then bringing his finger to his mouth. he reaches out to give you the cherry. âhere you go, mâlady.â
you let out another high pitched laugh, bringing the cherry to your plump lips and nibbling on the stem. the waitress cringes at the sound, leaning her head down in her hands and closing her eyes. you pity her.
kirk finishes the burger quickly, his next mission being reaching out for the fries. youâre not sure if heâs just got the munchies, or if heâs also even eaten today.
and soon enough, youâre flopping back into your seat, empty dishes covering the table. kirk is leaning towards you, smiling softly. you yawn, covering your face with a soft hand.
âyou tired?â he murmurs, tilting his head as he smiles sweetly. you make a quiet sound, similar to a hum, and his smile grows. âokay,â he reaches over the table for your hand. âlet me take you home.â
and then once again, your back in his passenger seat, the smell of cologne and marijuana now comforting. he puts the key in as softly as he can, and the second the car roars to life he takes it to himself to turn the radio down to the lowest level, looking over at you. youâre slumped in the seat, your head towards the window. he just grins.
the sky isnât so dark anymore, a greyish dark blue, with a slint orange before sunrise. âiâm gonna need you to give me directions, âmkay?â he pulls out of the car park as you respond quietly, giving him the directions.
a few minutes into the ride, you realise heâs going miles below the speed limit, to keep the car steady, and not pull you out of your sleepy state. heâs humming along to the radio, his finger tapping the wheel at every beat.
trees pass in a flash, so do streetlights and benches, sets of three drains, and a couple single drains too.
then time flashes again and heâs pulling up outside your apartment, already outside the passenger door and beating you to open it. he walks you to the doorway of the building, stopping and playing with his hands.
you look up at him, smiling shyly. he does the same. âthank you for tonight, kirk,â you hesitantly open the building door. âdo you wanna, maybe, do this again?â
âo-of course. iâd love to.â if you blinked, you wouldâve missed the slight flush tinting his cheeks, rushing down into his neck and shoulders. he fumbles in his pocket for a piece of ripped newspaper and a pen, scribbling down his home phone number in messy writing, and if it was anything but numbers youâd have a hard time reading it. âcall me, okay?â
âokay.â you grin softly, stepping into the doorway.
he backs up, smiling as he waves you off. âokay.â
and then the door shuts.
#stars writing!!#kirk hammett#kirk hammett x reader#kirky cutie#metallica#eddie munson x reader#james hetfield#james hetfield x reader#stranger things#kirk#fanfic#dave mustaine x reader
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ROSE: Don't you understand!? The human race IS an endless number of monkeys. And every day we produce an endless number of words. And one of us already wrote Hamlet!
#source: @LlamaInaTux on twitter#this is referring to the . infinite monkey thing where if theyre all writing bullshit at least one of em is gonna write hamlet on accident#who came up with this idea actually. its literally just the library of babel except there are monkeys there#homestuck#incorrect homestuck quotes#incorrect quotes#mod dave#rose lalonde
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unpopular opinion maybe but i don't acknowledge dave filoni's interpretation of a lot of things and i ESPECIALLY don't acknowledge his characterization of anakin. who the fuck is that
#yes i do think anakin is flawed and fucked up. NOT LIKE THAT!!!!!#the only thing filoni does well is write his own ocs. and half of them are stolen#there's a lot of things i like about tcw don't get me wrong!!!#however.#star wars#anakin skywalker#dave filoni hater first and human being second
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The Animals React To You Coming Out
#on a mission to more efficiently crosspost my silly animal-memes somewhat đđ#i had way too much fun making this and matching the dialogue up for each of them#connie please do not write a 1000 word breakdown about your choices when making 'the animals react to you coming out' okay.#alan's got a gaydar. that's all i'll say.#also jefferies squandered the jhe so bad. problematic ally who can't stop inadvertently bullying and stealing money from gay people#the animals#alan price#eric burdon#hilton valentine#dave rowberry#classic rock#60s rock#british rock#british invasion#q slur tw#q slur#things i said today#animusings#my beloved band that preformed to an exclusively male audience at first that poured alcohol on the keyboardist when they wanted him to play#mess around
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Memento
Whumptober Day 22: Glass Shard
Characters: Four, Sky, everyone else is there
Trigger warnings: Self-harm, itâs unintentional but itâs there, minor nudity, panic attacks, a special kind of unreliable narrator, many bad decisions are made
Read on Ao3!
-----
The portal looks like any other. Itâs only as he steps through that Four registers something â off â as his awareness stretches and spirals and f r a y s
Theyâre scattered in the void between stars, drowning and endless, flecks of insignificance against a being so much greater that the scale of it is lost to them.
OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN.
Their body doesnât exist right now. Itâs so easy for the entity to strip them down to their essentials, their skin and their blood and their bones, leaving everything else behind in the void. Peeling away everything that isnât them, their sword, their tunics, the cord at their throat â
No!
In this moment-between-moments theyâre barely a spark of thoughts, a soul in potentia, and every fibre of their being curls tight and defensive against the gentle tug. Over their heart, they wrap threads of lightning and fire around a faint and faded glimmer. They resist.
The entity tugs again.
No no no donât take it please donât take it I canât lose it I canât lose him I canât â
The entity⊠pauses.
They cling tighter. I wonât let you take it.
ALL OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN.
They keen in soundless protest. Mine-his-only-thing-left-grief-and-horror-and-mourningâ
âŠALL OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN. BUT A TRINKET THAT GRANTS NO ADVANTAGE⊠THAT, I CAN ALLOW.
And theyâre flooded with relief a split second before theyâre flooded with sound and light and ow.
Everything always tingles for a few seconds, after teleportation. All his pieces realising theyâre still alive, registering protests about the sand beneath him, the chill of the air, the ache in his tightly-clenched hand â
âWhat the fuck ââ
âWho took my rings ââ
âWHERE IN DINâS NAME ARE MY PANTS?!â
Everyone else is discovering theyâve been stripped of their equipment and are reacting accordingly. Four sits up slowly, flexes his throbbing fingers just enough to check â
A thin cord tugs at his neck; razor edges bite into his palm. The necklace is safe. He didnât lose it. Itâs safe.
He shudders out a sigh, hot and cold playing over his bare skin. After the panic attack, all of them slammed together in united desperation, everything feels kind of muffled. There, but unimportant. Even everyoneâs noisy agitation isnât worth responding to â no one is missing, no one is hurt, theyâre just upset. They donât need him for that.
âFour â shit, Four, youâre bleedingâ!â
He realises what theyâre reaching for almost too late. âNo!â he yelps. âNo donât touch it itâs mine donât take it no no noââ The sand is cool and slippery under their feet as they scrabble back. Thereâs a wall, thereâs a corner, thereâs nowhere to run so they huddle instead, curled protectively around the hand holding his necklace and keening high and panicked.
âDonât take it,â he gasps, âplease donât.â
âItâs okay,â someone soothes, âitâs okay. I wonât take it. Iâm just worried about your hand. Itâs bleeding; are you hurt? Iâm not going to take anything from you. I just want to see your hand. Do you think you can do that?â
Panting, Four peeks out of his defensive ball. Sky is there, not too close, crouched far enough away to give him some space. His tentative smile widens when he sees Four looking back at him.
âI promise I wonât take it,â he repeats. âCan you take a deep breath for me? Please?â
Aware heâs being handled and annoyed by it, Four obeys only out of spite. Breathing the full depth of his lungs hurts. It takes a few gasping starts to get all the way down, and by then the green-grey panic has faded from the edges of his vision.
âI hate that this shit works,â he says in a sapphire-tinted growl.
Sky is infuriatingly patient. âIf it didnât work, we wouldnât ask you to do it. Do you think Iâd be able to take a look at your hand now? Please?â
As the adrenaline fades it is starting to hurt. And⊠itâs Sky. He⊠they trust Sky.
Mostly, indigo murmurs.
Slowly he uncurls his fingers, wincing crimson as the pain flares. Blood runs down his bare arm. Itâs still a struggle to let go enough to switch the blood-streaked pendant to his other hand. His heart drops into freefall for the instant it takes his fingers to close, only steadies when the edges bite just enough to register. Only then does he let Sky take him by the wrist.
Welling up from the ragged cuts, blood drips to the sand; Sky frowns in concern. âSome of these look deep⊠does anyone have a potion? Bandages, even? I seem to have misplaced my kitâŠâ
âNo,â says Wild, grimacing. âItâs⊠Iâve only ever seen one of these before, but the shrine keeper takes everything as you come in. Weapons, equipment, armour.â
âFucking clothes,â Legend mutters.
âYou donât even wear pants to start with, Legend,â says Twilight.
âThat doesnât mean I want to go naked!â
âMagicâs probably still on the table, if you have the strength for it.â Wild shoots Hyrule a hopeful look.
Without meaning to Four tenses when Hyrule gets close.
âIâm not going to take it from you,â Hyrule says, repeating Skyâs words from earlier.
Four flushes with dull embarrassment. âSorry.â
âNo, Iâm sorry for scaring you.â Moving more slowly, Hyrule carefully lays his fingertips on Fourâs bleeding hand. They start to glow, a gentle spring green, and Four watches the self-inflicted cuts fade away, leaving smears of blood behind.
âThanks,â he says. Then, to avoid the inevitable questions, he forces himself to stand, looks straight at Wild, and ploughs onwards: âSo, how do we get out of here?â
âWell, assuming this is some kind of shrine, it could vary. Sometimes theyâre⊠moving puzzles. Like, you have to move a ball down a path, but there are lasers in the way that will knock you into a pit if you donât block them somehow. Or you have to reach a high area but thereâs no ladder, but there are things that you can pile up into like a really lopsided set of stairs. Other times theyâre combat trials â you have to defeat a certain monster, or a group of monsters, to make the final door open.â
Wind makes a noise of understanding. âOh, so itâs just a dungeon then. Cool.â
Wild frowns. âI⊠dunno? You guys always made dungeons sound, like, super drawn out. These are like. Two, maybe three tasks, and youâre done. The steals-all-your-shit shrine was the worst for that alone but it was also a combined combat-puzzle thing. I guess you didnât have to fight the monsters to get the balls, but it was a lot easier carrying them around if you didnât also have to dodge arrow fire.â
âAnd you did this without armour or a sword?â says Warriors, somewhere between aghast and impressed.
âI broke a lot of sticks,â Wild agrees. âI would have given so much for even the crappiest sword, but Iâve never been able to get anything past the shrine keeper.â
âThought you said youâd only seen one of these?â Legend runs his fingers over his knuckles again. Itâs an unconscious motion, missing his rings.
âWell I ran the first time, didnât I?â says Wild reasonably. âPanicked and ran for it. When I got far enough away the monk gave me all my shit back. I tried a couple times to sneak stuff in, throw it from the raft or whatever, but no dice. Howâd you do it, Four?â
Fourâs hand tightens. Hot blood starts to seep into the spaces between his fingers, something sharp like panic coiling around his heart.
âSteady, Four,â says Sky. âDeep breaths. Shit, youâre bleeding again â Wild!â
âIâm sorry! I was just curious!â
Four wants this over with. Why canât they just leave them alone, fuck, theyâre always asking and poking and so goddamn nosy, they never let things go, he can see their burning curiosity and knows what they want, he can feel it pressing in on his heart â
If he doesnât think about it too hard, the words can stumble out. âI felt it â and â I fought it.â
Legend frowns. âYou fought it for your necklace? Why not your sword â hell, your shirt?â
âHow did you even feel it?â Wind demands. âOne second we were walking into a portal and the next weâre stripped to our skivvies! There was no time!â
âTimeâs more flexible than you think,â they say absently. Their fingers shift, making glass cut twilight-sharp, and their heart steadies.
âWhen the portal â when we entered the shrine â there was a moment where â Wild called it the shrine keeper â I â felt it. Taking everything away. Bag. Sword. Clothing. But ââ his hand twitches again. Sky hisses as more blood hits the sand. âI couldnât let them take this. Itâs the only thing I have of my best friend.â
The words fall from his lips in blood red and bruise purple and he meant to say them but he didnât and he regrets them but he doesnât. The pendant is important, they canât lose it, they need the others to understand that â
Their mind turns inward. What if they hadnât â convinced them? What if the shrine keeper had taken the fragile shard of glass â
Give it back! Itâs like an echo of a memory, too-sharp and too-clear. Please give it back, please!
Their fingers tighten. Pain swells, drowns out the almost-memories, and stays a constant drumming throb even when they relax.
Unease runs viridian.
ââour, I need you to take a breath for me, can you do that? Câmon, head up, you can do it ââ
Calm and steady, Skyâs voice draws them from the almost-flashback. Itâs harder this time â they hurt, and theyâre tired, and the grief isnât lurking so much as clawing up their spine. The world presses in on them. They hurt, Green-Red-Blue-Vio all caught up in we-miss-him-we-miss-him-we-miss-him. It makes everything harder, when all they want to do is fall deep and curl up in mirror-shard memories that hurt the same way they do. (The pain is comforting.) (They know it shouldnât be.)
When theyâre like this, when they canât find the balance that lets them be Four instead of four, when they donât even want to â someone has to take the reins. Someone whoâs capable of at least pretending to be a person, for a while â and this time, thatâs Red. Red, who feels things so intensely he circles right back around to âfunctionalâ. Who manages to take a full breath of air even through the tears, making Sky smile encouragement.
âGood! Good job, just keep it up, youâre alright.â
Red wants the smile, wants the comfort just as much as he hates it. Itâs wrong. Too big, the wrong shape, smells of feathers and sunlight instead of smoke and steel. Another stuttering breath rips through his chest. He misses them so much â misses them all, even when theyâre right there with him because itâs not the same. And thereâs nothing he can do about it except breathe, and cry, and wait for the storm to pass.
Hyrule inches closer. âFour, youâre bleeding again. Can I see your hand?â
Red breathes through the avalanche of fear and hurt and no. Checks â the bleeding isnât bad â before shaking his head. âSâfine.â
âI donât want to leave you in pain. Please?â
âNo.â It comes out harsher than he intends.
âOkay, not right now. Can you let me know when youâre ready?â
Red hums agreement. Presses the hand against his sternum, feels the way it makes glass shift in his fingers.
âJust make sure you get it treated, little one,â Time says from nearby, deep and slow. âThatâs your sword hand.â Heâs â closer than Red had realised. They all are, actually.
âYou gotta look after yourself!â Wild adds.
That is possibly the most hypocritical thing heâs ever heard Wild say, and for a moment he just stares. Then he gets distracted by Wind, bouncing and clearly relieved Four is looking more stable.
âItâs okay, Four! Wild says these donât take long, so weâll be out of here and back to normal in no time!â His eyes catch on Fourâs hand â still clenched tight, still bleeding â and flicker uncertainly. Then he squeaks and flails in protest as Warriors scrubs a hand through his hair.
âSailorâs right, itâll be okay. Maybe talk to your friend next time youâre home? See about getting a spare â or somewhere safer to keep it?â
Twilight makes a noise of agreement. âYour friend must be real important to ya,â he says, âbut you havenât mentioned âem before. Can you tell us about them?â
Embers spark.
âHe killed himself,â Four says boldly, âto save my life.â
Thereâs a brief, horrified silence.
Then everyone bursts out talking at once, Twilightâs frantic apologies mixing with Wind telling him off, Hyrule pleading to let him help, Warriors protesting something that gets lost in the commotion. Theyâre guilty, apologetic, desperately trying to help.
Red doesnât care.
âI canât just â get a new one, because it was his, and now heâs gone. He saved me â he saved all of fucking Hyrule â and people call me a hero when I couldnât â I couldnât even save him.â Under a layer of numb his skin is burning, with hurt, with anger, with the grief he holds close. He still feels so cold. It isnât fair.
Time interrupts before he can dig his heels too deep. âHow old were you?â His voice is gentle, almost distant.
âWe were â we were both thirteen.â His voice cracks and he has to use his free hand to dash away angry tears. This is why he doesnât talk about it, dammit.
Sky hugs him.
Itâs more awkward than usual, without all their layers in the way â why does skin have to be so warm, and slightly sticky, ugh â but Sky is determined, and Four â doesnât have it in him to protest, right now. Leaning into Skyâs chest, he lets himself relax â lets his fingers loosen, just a little, on the shard of mirror-glass.
They just want this to be over.
-----
When Four doesnât fight him, just lets himself be held, Sky fixes the rest of the group with a sharp eye. âWild, how fast can you get us through this?â
Wildâs back goes straight. âDepends on the tasks, usually doesnât take more than an hour or two.â
âHow do we get out afterwards?â
Wild glances around, grimacing. âWell, usually thereâs a â a platform that carries you up and down, but I donât see one here â this looks really different to what Iâm used to, but it â it feels the same, I guess?â
Sky stays focused on problem solving. âAny other ways out?â
âThe shrine keeper. When you approach them, the shrine keeper teleports you out.â
âCan we bypass the dungeon and go straight for the exit that way?â
âNo, they â theyâre always blocked off, you have to â the shrine wants you to do something, and you have to figure it out and â and actually do it, before the path opens â sometimes the problem is the path ââ
âOkay, so it is like a dungeon,â says Legend. Heâs tense, keeps flicking quick looks at Four and the way heâs standing unprotestingly in Skyâs hold. âHow fast dâyou think we can get through with multiple people helping?â
âOnly one way to find out!â says Sky with false cheer.
Quickly they get themselves organised. Thereâs no equipment to outfit themselves with, no armour to check; all they can do is split into smaller groups to hopefully cover all corners as fast as possible. Legend makes a point of putting Warriors in the only group of three. Warriors complains, butâs mostly a front. Heâs never experienced a dungeon before and is rightly wary, so putting him with two other people who have only makes sense.
Sky they leave to babysit Four, whose empty expression and slow reflexes are not convincing anyone that heâs capable of a dungeon run. Some traps have genuinely murderous timing. Heâs also still refusing to let go of his necklace, which cuts him deep enough to bleed every time something makes him startle.
Once theyâre gone, and the sandy hallway has gone still, Sky gently rocks on his feet, moving Four with him. âHey, Four? You with me at all?â
Four gives a displeased grunt.
âYeah, I know.â Skyâs heart hurts. âCâmon, letâs sit down again. The others will come get us later.â
Four goes with him when he tugs, crouching and then tumbling into a clumsy sit. His knees draw close to his face, seemingly without thought, going back to the defensive huddle with his bloodied hand at the centre. Stormy grey is alert, if sullen. Mostly Four just looks tired.
Sky sits beside him, not wanting to overwhelm him further. âItâs okay. Theyâre a lot sometimes, but they mean well.â
Fourâs response is too muffled to translate.
âSorry, Four, I didnât catch that.â
âIâm tired of them asking!â he bursts out. âIâm tired of them asking about â about friends, and family, and do you have someone special waiting for you at home, and â it hurts, and Iâm tired of it, and they wonât stop!â
And of course that was the danger in Red fronting when they were this emotional â what came out was what they felt, no deflecting or sugar coating, no way to hide after.
âIâm sorry,â Sky says. âI didnât realise it was bothering you so much. I can talk to the others about it and make sure everyone stops.â
If they havenât sworn off it already. Blue, sardonic, even through the grey haze cloaking their mind.
I feel bad, Green murmurs, they were just trying to help.
After such an outburst? Doubtless they feel worse than you do, says Vio.
âThey should feel guilty,â Red mutters, and itâs shot through with indigo venom. âMaybe now theyâll shut up.â
Sky tightens the arm across his shoulders. âItâll be okay.â
He feels helpless. Four isnât usually â vindictive, like this. Nor prone to outbursts and fits of temper. Being stripped mostly naked would knock anyone off-balance, to say nothing of the desperate way Four is protecting his necklace, but â Sky just doesnât know what to do. Fourâs a lot more functional than he would be, after three panic attacks back-to-back, but how much of that is just a mask? How much is he really struggling to hold it together?
(Would Sky even be able to tell, when Fourâs been hiding this for so long?)
He runs a hand through his hair, absent-minded, and catches on the lack of catching at his ears. âAw, man. It even took my earrings. Wild did say it would give them back after, right?â
ââŠyeah.â
His sigh of relief is only slightly exaggerated. âThatâs good. Those werenât easy to get, you know.â
Fourâs tired blink isnât the most rousing expression of interest, but Sky launches into the story anyway. He has to let go of Four to make the gestures his hands want to, and â itâs fine. Four doesnât collapse in on himself at the loss of contact. All he does is turn his head to watch Sky talk, eyes still a little too sharp.
Sky hopes the distraction helps. Involving Four hadnât worked, but something completely outside of himself, something new to hold onto? Maybe it will help him calm down from the edge of panic heâs been riding since they first stumbled out of the portal.
Itâs as heâs describing Scrapper and the Mogmas that Windâs shout draws them both to look up. âHey, guys! Legend cracked it!â He waves enthusiastically, like maybe they hadnât yet noticed him standing in his skivvies at the end of the hall. âThereâs a big statue but Wild doesnât wanna mess with it âtil everyoneâs there! Câmon!â
Four refuses Skyâs hand to get up, though heâs a little shaky on his feet. Sky tries not to hover. He knows how annoying it is, having people looming close just waiting for you to fail, and at the same time, he doesnât want Four to hurt himself if he stumbles and falls.
Wild was right: this isnât nearly as long and complex as a dungeon. According to Wind, who chatters on as they make their way up the spiralling collection of ramps, theyâd had to do a fair bit of work pulling things apart to make it traversable for anyone who wasnât Wild. âIt took him and Twilight and Legend with his power bracelets to move that block,â he waves at the massive piece of stone theyâre walking over to the next bridge-like panel. âAnd then Wild used his slate for these metal pieces, except he kept dropping them, and his aim is shit, so Wars nearly fell in that pool getting out of the way.â
Sky snorts at the mental image.
When they make it to the top, they find the others loosely gathered around some kind of blocky statue. It looks like a cross between an owl, a fox, and a rabbit. What even needs ears that long?
Wild flashes them a strained grin over his shoulder. âSo! Usually I find a ten-thousand-year-old Sheikah monk at the end of these things, but itâs got kinda the same feel to it, so weâre gonna try anyway. Just in case, everyone grab hold of me.â
That isnât easy. Eight different people have to crowd around Wildâs back and sides to make sure everyone has a hand on him. Sky spots Fourâs hand in the crush, still streaked with drying blood, and his stomach rolls.
âOkay, everyone ready? Here goes nothing.â Wild reaches out towards the statue.
For a long moment, nothing happens.
Then the world twists like a Time Gate, several things happening at once. A panel goes red â lights up green â a glimmering box of blue light shatters, flinging threads of glass before they freeze in midair â an angry buzzing noise â chiming fairy bells â
The statue smiles.
WELL DONE.
And as suddenly as it started, it all stops.
Sky fumbles a bit at the added weight, his sailcloth dragging at his shoulders and his earrings suddenly heavy in his ears. Timeâs armour makes a crashing noise like it had been dropped from a height; Time grunts.
Theyâre outside, grass under their feet and a weird teardrop-shaped stone building behind them. Sky doesnât know where they are â itâs all hills and fields and low-hanging trees â but thereâs no monsters in eyeshot so he uses the opportunity to double check all his belongings were returned. Earrings, sailcloth, clothes â check. Bag â check, and it looks like the contents are intact. Master Sword and scabbard, fucking goddessdamned check. He did not appreciate losing her, even for a couple of hours.
Around him the others are doing much the same, adjusting clothes and checking packs. Legendâs running his fingers over his rings like heâs counting them, while Warriors struggles to get his mail to sit right over his bad shoulder.
And Four â
All Sky catches a glimpse of is black and glossy and strangely clean of blood before Four is shoving the pendant down the neck of his tunic, out of sight.
The difference is immense. All the tension drops out of his shoulders, he stops standing hunched in on himself, even his face relaxes from its hard, suspicious lines. Thereâs still creases around his too-red eyes â heâs still feeling the effects of the panic and stress of the day â but he looks more himself.
He even smiles at Windâs little dance of happiness at getting his pants back. âArenât you the first one to strip every time we find a lake?â
Brightening at the sound of his voice, Wind spins to face him and beams. âYeah, but thatâs different! Lakes are fun! This was just annoying.â
âYou shoulda heard him whine when we asked him to scale that rope,â says Legend.
Wind makes an outraged noise. âYou try climbing coarse hemp with no pants! I ainât a fan of splinters in me privates!â
The laughter and bickering is slightly strained. Even as Hyrule creeps up and is finally, finally allowed to heal his torn-up hand and wipe away the blood, everyoneâs giving Four his space. Not pushing, not demanding things of him, just letting him exist with them.
Good. Sky will still catch them up individually, make sure everyone knows Fourâs had enough of personal questions, but for now at least, everything is okay.
Wild finishes what he was doing â taking photographs of the weird building? â and waves his Slate at everyone. âDefinitely my Hyrule! If we head north, we should make it to Castle Town by nightfall.â
âIsnât your Castle Town still mostly construction site?â Legend says, and Wild shrugs.
âIf you wanna spend two days walking to Kakariko, be my guest, but thereâs at least a temporary stable and inn at Castle Town.â
âI vote beds,â says Wind immediately.
Sky agrees â from the look of the sun, theyâre mid-afternoon, so being just a couple of hours away from safety is very appealing. It only takes a little debate for Legend to give in, since he doesnât want to sleep on the ground if he doesnât have to, either. As they set off through the grass, Sky scans the group one last time.
Twilightâs up the front with Wild, Hyrule looking on in fascination as Wild waves at a herd of horses and threatens to catch one. Warriors is close enough to intervene if necessary, while Legend is deliberately ignoring them in favour of studying the landscape â in the opposite direction of Wildâs horses. Wind has dragged Time into a conversation about his armour, with Four â steady and reserved once more â chiming in here and there about plate maintenance.
Sky takes a deep breath, and lets the tension run out of him as he exhales.
For now, everythingâs okay.
#whumptober 2023#linked universe#lu fic#skies writes#lu four#lu sky#lu wind#lu wild#lu twilight#lu legend#lu hyrule#lu warriors#don't @ me if your fave did a dumb#they are all stressed and dumb rn#i debated having this like a âyou can keep ONE THINGâ but decided the incidental nudity would probably not be conducive to good angst#regarding four and whoâs speaking at any one time: if itâs not clear it's not meant to be clear#:)#I know there are ways to get equipment onto eventide#but i like imagining the monk sitting there watching linkâs attempts to bypass it rolling its eyes and going âi canât let you do that dave'
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Tried my hand at a (FNAF-themed) contrapuntal today! This thing fought like hell, but I think I like how it turned out. :)
#For those who don't know contrapuntal poems:#you read each side separately#then combine both sides to read the whole thing#in this case#left side is cassidy to will#right side is dave to cassidy#and the whole thing is cassidy to dave#fnaf#fnaf cassidy#fnaf crying child#fnaf cc#fnaf vengeful spirit#aydee writes
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dave makes little clothes for his robot bee ,,
#moversposting#i know it's just for the puns but it's cute tho#as any inventor character he loves his robots haha#i am writing this one thing.. it's dave centric (again) but idk if it's just me making observations that don't exist (again) hahaha#if it actually turns out well i'll post it. if not it will just stay a thought lol#i'll focus on the others soon i'll try to do that hahahaha#IM season 1#episode: a bee story
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