#its scarily close and accurate

[ask-the-crimson-king]

Tales from Black Crusade... Kind Of

It's been a while since I've made any sort of post like this, be it Warhammer TTRPG related or other-TTRPG related. For those who are wondering or care, I am currently in 3 campaigns -- playing in a Pathfinder 2e Campaign, and DM'ing a Dragonlance game and a reboot of an old campaign that I've wrote about before here on Tumblr.

That campaign being Black Crusade, which fell apart almost a year ago now. But we tried a reboot, and some things are happening.

This will just be a mini-post about one snippet of last night's session, purely because the scene was just amazing and I'd like to try and share it with other humans.

However, before I can even do that, I'll briefly introduce the player characters, even though the scene in question only really involves two or three of them:

ZACHARIAH CAIN - Former World Eater, current diabolist attached to the 17th Host of Word Bearers. Has recently mutated a lot due to the destabilizing presence of a Slaaneshi daemon prince, and is on the verge of either ascending or becoming Chaos Spawn, neither outcome seeming very appetizing.

SOHN'IK ERINACEUS - An Emperor's Children raptor who is all about extreme speed and is generally always in a good mood. Happily will run into danger for fun. If you get the meaning behind his name, you get a cookie. Also as an aside, this character is unironically genuinely amazing, their player plays him SUPER well and he's a treat at the table. I'll discuss his exploits in a later post, potentially.

SOLOMON GRUNDY - Death Guard who was attached to the Lords of Silence and generally doesn't remember much about his life because he died and came back holding a seed from a Barbaran oak tree. Grundy also has befriended a tiny nurgling and is the fire support for the party.

Finally, and potentially controversially,

ARTORIAS - I would list out all of his names but there's too many. Artorias is a renegade Custodian who was lost out in the Warp for millennia, its exposure slowly breaking down the geneforging that locked his mind into being happy to be used as a tool and weapon of the Emperor. He was later found and convinced that his way was a way of slavery, and that he could find freedom elsewhere. He acts as a hidden guardian of Apostle Ans'ar of the 17th Host.

Artorias deserves a post all on his own. Some people may be rolling their eyes but bear with me, I promise his lore is not completely gary stu cringe. I allowed it because the campaign is being done in Wrath & Glory, and the party is at Tier 5, and there was some acceptable homebrew to make a Custodian. Trust, I am generally someone who likes to err on the side of canon and lore. Plus my player really wanted to make a renegade Custodes, and I didn't want to "no, but" him, and it's led to some really great storytelling and moments in the campaign.

BUT this tale is not about Artorias. This is about the current exploits of our new band of Misfits.

Zachariah sends out a call to try and get the ear of Kor Phaeron. Already this may sound insane but bear with me. The party has come up with a very long-winded plan that involves the creation and maintaining of several Warpstorms in and around the Eye of Terror. There's several other aspects including Titan Legions, Knight Houses, the Dark Mechanicum, at least three other Legions [not in their entirety, but a decent showing of force], and potentially the Blood Pact, but that would require maybe an additional 5,000 words to explain the context for.

The party is in pretty good standing with the Word Bearers, and they needed someone who was a very adept ritualist with a large reach to assist in this endeavor. So they shot for the stars and, with dice on their side, they got what they wanted.

One of my players happens to have a very good voice for Kor Phaeron, and he offered to take up the role for me. He's played the old bastard in the past for a campaign, so I agree to let him do it. I set the scene a bit so he can understand Kor Phaeron's current mindset, and he gets to work.

I basically tell him where we last had seen him at the end of Throne of Light, explain how he probably feels in the aftermath, and a couple of additional campaign-specific details.

I cannot express in words alone how this man nailed his character so pristinely.

Zachariah gets in contact with the Dark Cardinal himself, and invites him to this grand theatre of war that he, the 17th Host, and the small band of Misfits are putting together alongside allies within the Emperor's Children. Most of the plan he is relaying is the brainchild of Solmon Grundy and Sohn'ik Erinaceus, with some add-ons by Zachariah and Artorias. It's a very, very ambitious plan, and one that, if executed very well, can and will work. What he is not saying is how this is all connected to an insane idea that the Apostle currently has, because the Apostle knows it's an idea that could absolutely get him killed and the 17th disbanded.

Kor Phaeron takes a moment to think. He then asks why he -- and his Legion, in particular -- would really be interested in such an engagement. Surely this is something the III Legion can handle on their own. Why should they be meddling in this great conflict to come?

Zachariah says that there could be glory to be found in an alliance here, and that Kor Phaeron's own expertise is needed. The old man says that he cannot see how, and presses Zachariah on why this conflict matters so deeply to him. Again, this sounds like the business of another Legion, yet he's speaking with urgency and is trying desperately to sway him. Surely there must be something else here.

And then Zachariah makes what we in the industry call a "Gift of Gab moment".

Zachariah sells out the actual intentions of his Apostle.

And immediately my player who's playing Kor Phaeron starts doing his villain laugh.

"He said it in character, I do not want to do takes-backsies, let's roll with this."

I could feel everyone tensing at the table and I decide to have Ans'ar, the Apostle who just got sold for 62 cents, jump in and try to defend and explain himself.

Kor Phaeron then says, "You have from the time I walk from my personal chambers to the strategium deck to explain the reason for the 17th not deserving chastisement or reorganization."

They can hear the tread of his heavy boots upon the decking and the clicking of his claws as he speaks.

So he tries to sum up everything neatly and as swiftly as he can, with Zachariah occasionally butting in to offer some extra details. Out of character, the table is tense and everyone is saying "oh fucking no".

What is the plan that could get all of them absolutely wiped without a second thought? Well.

Ans'ar and several other Apostles have come up with a plan to force the primarch out of his seclusion using a massive ritual. They need the ritual to go off because they hope to empower Lorgar so that he can kill the burgeoning Star Child and also bring a measure of order to the Warp.

With such a daring plan, there are obviously many ways for this to go wrong, but if it goes right, it means Lorgar is out active in the galaxy again, and that could be bad news if you're depending on him not being out and about for the next while.

Kor Phaeron has heard a few murmurings and rumors about a number of Hosts who seemed to be conspiring about something, but the nature of it was mostly veiled or it seemed not to be of great interest. And now he is very, very interested.

Of course, involving Kor Phaeron would absolutely and inevitably mean that the cat would get out of the bag at some point, but this was absolutely not the time. This was just supposed to be a quick "will you help us?" and if he said no, proceed without him. This was a Hail Mary, a "hey, wouldn't it be hilarious if we could do this?" and I let them roll for it.

If he DID say yes, they tell him the plan when the pieces are already in place and the board is set. That way, even if he objects, there's not much he could do to stop it or interfere.

In this instance, the pieces have just been outlined, nowhere near to being put into place. Which now means that Kor Phaeron can now have free reign over the entire plan and twist it to his whims.

SOOOO now Kor Phaeron has a very vested interest in knowing all the ins and outs of this plan, when it is being conducted, and by whom. He expects all of these answers when he meets with Ans'ar in person. He tells the Apostle that he is, for now, "grounded", and is to remain in place until Kor Phaeron arrives.

And right before he cuts contact, as he enters the strategium and everyone hears the tensing of Terminators in greeting, he has a few final words for Ans'ar in quiet Colchisian:

"My son will not return by your hand."

The connection drops dead.

Plans begin changing fast. The nature of Artorias's very existence is a secret to all but those within the Host, and if Kor Phaeron finds out, then Ans'ar may be in bigger trouble than planning a massive primarch ganking ritual. However, at this point, Artorias is demanding to be at the Apostle's side as part of his honor guard once Kor Phaeron arrives. So is Zachariah, as one of his Masters of Possession, much to Zikar-Sin's protesting.

Grundy & Sohn'ik both have to depart in order to begin organizing their parts of the grand plan -- Sohn'ik to try and find and recruit the Riotous Host, Grundy to go find the Lords of Silence. Of course, other allies are also being contacted -- we're going to be having a small cameo next session of an Alpha Legionnaire from a past player who just couldn't schedule the game in -- but I'm very excited.

Now I get to plan out a LOT of potential networking, combat, and the arrival of the bastard himself. That's all going to be very fun.

Since his PC is going to be Away -- not a decision made so he could continue to guest NPC as Kor Phaeron, that was already decided on before Zachariah's PC decided to be like "hey, could I try Skype calling him?" -- Grundy's player will probably be playing him again with me handing him some rough bullet points and notes on what I want to have hit with him.

Very excited to see where this goes, we're only a few sessions away from the end. Will the party have a skill issue and die in this massive confrontation they planned? Maybe. Odds are they probably will. BUT I trust them not to. They can be very keen strategists.

I hope you enjoyed this tale, I'll try to post these on occasion if things of note happen. Expect one for Dragonlance to be posted soon as the party is about to confront Dragon Emperor Ariakas at Sanction.

[aronkiepronkie]

you mumble incoherent curses and erase aggressively on your paper, blowing the eraser shavings, catching tsukishimas attention. "what're you doing?" he asks with a small amount of judgement in his tone as he looks down at the slightly crumbled paper in your notebook. "i'm trying to..ugh." you sigh, lowering your face to the notebook in front of you, light gray strokes connecting with one another. "trying to what?" the blonde boy looks down at you. "talk normally dumbass, i can't hear you." he spits out, you pay no mind to him and move your hair to the side, grumbling angrily about it being in the way. tsukishima hears your frustrated mumbles and takes the matter into his hands before you explode and become pissy for the rest of the day. he grabs the hair tie you gave him off his wrist, gently gathering all of your hair and slowly putting it into a ponytail. "you're welcome." he speaks up after a few seconds of silence. "thanks, kei." you respond quietly, entranced in your drawing, his cheeks dust with pink when his name leaves your mouth, still not used to you calling him by his first name. tsukishima looks down at your paper, analyzing the drawing you're stressing about. he slowly starts familiarizing the doodles and sketches of a person, piecing together the glasses and hair. "is that me?" he asks, his brows furrowed at the scarily accurate drawings of him. "wha- no! that would be so weird and creepy of me to draw you..." you yell out in surprise, trying to defend yourself, jumping from your previous position, snuggled against his pillows, under the blanket that he bought specifically for you. tsukishima chuckles through his nose and smirks. "you're more than weird and creepy yn." he sighs and closes his eyes. "maybe that's why i like you." he mutters, mainly to himself but loud enough for you to hear. your face bursts into a bright red and you grab one of his pillows, throwing it harshly at his face. he catches the fuzzy decorative pillow with ease, laughing at you and patting the spot on his bed next to him, inviting you to sit with him. "don't start getting all cute at me after calling me weird and creepy, you're gonna give me whiplash." you tell him while hopping next to him and he hums in faux confusion. "i'm not getting cute, just saying i kind of like you." he says confidently with a faint smile still on his thin lips while he unlocks his phone, scrolling aimlessly through the many playlists he's made, not sparing you a glance. "oh wow, should i be flattered that the all-knowing, stoic, cold and stingy tsukishima kei kind of likes me?" you joke reaching for your pencil to resume sketching. he pauses his scrolling after clicking on the playlist you two listen to the most together, reaching for his earphones that he, again, specifically got for you so you guys can listen to music together. he glances at your page and he stays quiet, taking your joke into consideration. "mmm, flattered isn't the word. don't take advantage of the situation." he states quietly, leaning into you and sticking left earphone in your ear. your hands halt and you gasp dramatically. "i love this song!" you yell joyfully. "i know you do." tsukishima says to himself, and this time, you can't hear what he says. he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his hand resting on the pillows next to you as he watches the pencil in your hand work its magic, finishing the 'doodle' of him smiling, you would call it, tsukishima would simply call it a masterpiece just because he knows no matter how hard he would try, he'd never get on your level when it comes to drawing. his broad chest rises and falls with each slow breath he takes as he admires your skill. "stop drawing me, weirdo." he says, sarcasm dripping in his tone. you look up at him with sparkling eyes and a candy sweet smile that never fails to make his steady heartbeat falter. "you love it." "i guess i do." is the last thing he says before cupping your warm cheek with his cold, big hands and pressing his lips onto yours, kissing you slowly.

[scoobydoodean]

Okay so in 1.03 Dead In The Water, there's this exchange Sam and Dean have at one point in regards to Lucas—the little boy who watched his dad drown, who Dean connects with during the episode:

DEAN Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died. SAM There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies. DEAN Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.

And the last time I watched this episode, I went "Oh cool! A little Psychic!Sam Easter Egg." Right? Sam goes through the traumatic experience of losing Jess, and he's tapped into "whatever's out there" (the yellow eyed demon) and he's having premonitions about what he's going to do next. Which definitely makes a lot of sense.

But when I was gif-ing stuff from 1.03 today, I realized that... funnily enough, within the context of this episode we also have some fun stuff relating to the "slightly psychic Dean" posts that have gone around this year... Or if you prefer, Cassandra!Dean. Cassandra, in reference to the prophet in Greek myth, cursed by Apollo to utter true prophecies but never be believed.

Dean often knows when bad things are going to happen in Supernatural. He doesn't have visions—but he has "bad feelings" and makes predictions that turn out to be scarily accurate at times. Of course we can infer that Dean is just good at 1) reading people and 2) understanding how sequences of events tumble one by one in a row like so many dominoes. It's another sign of his incredible intelligence. But it IS fun to think about Dead In The Water as the first indication of Cassandra!Dean.

First, because Lucas has premonitions, and Lucas and Dean are paralleled and connect on an emotional level.

Dean and Lucas have similar traumatic childhood experiences. Both watched a parent die and both lost the ability to speak afterwards:

DEAN You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Dean is able to connect with Lucas through their shared traumatic experience. He's the only one who's able to get through to him—and after a short conversation and just drawing together for a while—much to his mom's shock. Dean is able to understand what Lucas is feeling without Lucas saying it.

Second, because Lucas has bad feelings that tell him the locations where the spirit will strike next, but no one listens to/believes him.

...Kind of like people usually don't listen to/believe Dean's bad feelings.

DEAN Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

Of course, this line is just Dean paralleling Lucas with himself and his own reasons for not speaking, but it must hit home, because Lucas begins communicating with Dean through drawings.

Further, despite Sam also knowing Lucas is having premonitions, when Lucas reacts with extreme distress to the idea of going home and clings to Dean desperately, Sam still... doesn't think it means anything. He thinks the case is over.

Third, Dean has a bad feeling that the case isn't over, and Sam doesn't believe him.

The sheriff had just threatened to arrest them if they stayed in town, so of course going back to town is a big deal. When Dean turns around based on a bad feeling, Sam thinks he's just being paranoid.

SAM But Dean, this job, I think it's over. DEAN I'm not so sure. SAM If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest. DEAN All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt? SAM But why would you think that? DEAN Because Lucas was really scared. SAM That's what this is about?

Dean sticks to his guns, and they arrive just in time to save Lucas's mother from drowning in a bathtub.

[webfics]

Marathon

Pairing - mcu!peter parker x f!reader

Warnings - None really, just a ton of oblivious mutual pining and a few curse words. Usage of Y/N.

Summary - Peter and y/n have been friends for a while, but have never admitted their feelings for each other. It's been a year since Peter first showed you star wars and you have planned a re-watch to celebrate. What Peter doesn't know is that you've been harbouring a crush on him since the first marathon and were finally going to tell him.

A/N - This is my first peter parker fic so I apologise if I don't do his character justice. Mentions of reader wanting to become a detective but its not really that important.

GIF by thosekidswhohuntmonsters

You and Peter had met each other during middle school. He had noticed Flash Thompson trying to steal your notebook out of your backpack when you weren't looking and decided to stand up for you, and although it resulted in his unfortunate nickname, it was worth becoming friends with you.

Since then, the two of you had become inseparable and spent almost every day in each others company. Along with your mutual best friend Ned Leeds of course, whom you met not long after meeting Peter. The two of you were so close that you were the first person Peter told when he became Spiderman.

You had developed feelings for Peter towards the end of your freshman year. The two of you had decided to have a Star Wars movie marathon as you had never seen the franchise. Peter was in shock and naturally, he forced you to watch them all. His scarily accurate impression of chewie and constant nerdy facts had made you swoon. And that god damn laugh of his could of killed you then and there.

You would never let him know that though. You had seen enough movies to know that dating your best friend was never a good idea. Plus, you knew that Peter saw you as nothing more than a friend. He makes that very clear anytime somebody brings up how close the two of you are.

Which is exactly what he was doing right now.

"I'm just saying... the two of you would totally be a cute couple". Liz had came over to speak to Betty, who was eating with you, Peter and Ned, and had referred to you as Peters girlfriend. The mistake had made you blush at the thought until Peter harshly shut it down.

"Oh no, Y/N and I are just friends. She's basically my sister at this point". You had laughed it off but Ned, who knew about your long time crush on Peter, noticed the disappointment in your face.

What you didn't know was that Peter had feelings for you too. He had since before the two of you were friends and it was the reason he stood up for you in the first place. He had tried hinting towards it quite a lot during the early days of your friendship, but you never seemed to notice. Peter had just assumed that you hadn't liked him back and decided he was happy being just your friend.

Ned was obviously aware of this, which made this situation a lot tougher for him. Anytime the two of you dismissed your feelings, he wanted to just blurt it out, but he was adamant that the two of you would work it out eventually and decided to just allow it to happen naturally, no matter how painful it was to watch.

The lunch bell rang and you said your goodbyes to everyone. Checking in with Peter to make sure your plans were still in place for later before heading to your final lesson of the day.

Your lesson had dragged on for what felt like a week before the bell finally dismissed everyone. You grabbed your stuff and headed to the front of the school, where you were set to meet Peter.

When you arrived he was already stood there waiting for you. His tattered bag was slung over his shoulder and a few strands of his hair were covering his face as he was looking down at his phone. You walked over to him and when he noticed you approaching, he shot you one of his annoyingly adorable smiles.

"Hello there". You said, now standing next to him. He smirked slightly before replying "General Kenobi". You laughed at his Grievous impression and then the two of you started walking back to Peter's. The two of you were planning on re-watching the original trilogy in honour of it being a year since the first time you had watched the franchise together.

"I can't believe it's been a year since our marathon" you say to peter, walking into his home.

"How does it feel knowing you've been a star wars nerd for a whole year? Honestly dude it's kind of sad." Peter asked, teasingly.

"Coming from the one who practically came out of the womb reciting empire" you reply, rolling your eyes sarcastically.

------

You were now sitting on Peter's bed with him, watching Return of the Jedi and all you could think about was how much you liked Peter. Every comment he made about the films, his darth vader impression, the way he was so enthralled and passionate about the franchise... you loved everything about him.

Well not everything, you weren't too happy about his tendency of risking his life every night. But that's besides the point.

You really liked him.

And you needed to tell him.

"You know what's funny?" you say, trying to be as nonchalant as possible.

"What?" Peter turned to you and popped some popcorn into his mouth.

"Our first marathon was when i started liking you" you reply, trying to disguise how nervous you were by turning your attention back to the movie.

Peter choked on his popcorn for a moment and quickly composed himself.

"Liking me?" he asked.

"Yeah, i had a huge crush on you back then" you say, searching his face for any form of reaction but he just sat there, shocked.

"Still do" you added, and this time you got a reaction.

"Wait, you LIKE me?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"I really like you Peter" you reply, emphasising the 'really'.

He smiled suddenly.

"I really like you too Y/N" he said, mimicking your emphasis and now you were smiling. "It's kind of the whole reason i defended you in middle school"

"You've liked me since middle school?!" you asked him, as shocked as he was moments before.

"I thought it was obvious, i flirted with you constantly" he admitted.

"I honestly thought you were just being polite" you said, now realising how blind you had been.

"And you want to be a detective" he joked and you punched his shoulder lightly.

"Shut up, i was a child okay" you laughed.

"Just saying" he said and you rolled your eyes.

"Wait," you say and Peter turns to you again "so you couldn't tell me you liked me but you could tell me you were spiderman"

Peter paused for a moment. "In my defence, I didn't exactly tell you i was spiderman, you figured it out"

"Which is exactly why i'd be a great detective" you say, crossing your arms and Peter laughs.

"I'm serious" you say.

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐑𝐄-𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈 𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐒

❝ Luci was not the type of woman who was generally seen in antique bookshops. Oh, one shouldn't get her wrong, she liked reading quite a bit - seeing as her dear gran, who had raised her, was a librarian, it was rather improbable that she wouldn't - but like most people, she preferred to buy her volumes spanking new from the shelves of Waterstones, rather than ancient and well past yellow from a tiny, cluttered little shop on a Soho street corner.

Still, that was exactly where she had found herself one perfectly ordinary autumn day. While on the run from a rather disgruntled ex-girlfriend who couldn't seem to grasp the notion that goodbye meant goodbye, Luci had rushed into the nearest shop with an unlocked door, completely missing the fact that the bookshop's owner, who she promptly crashed into, had just been in the process of flipping the sign in the window from Open to Closed. While the owner, a funny little white-haired man who introduced himself as Aziraphale, was not exactly pleased with the strange woman who'd suddenly stormed into his beloved shop, he was sympathetic to Luci's plight, and allowed her to remain inside until her ex had safely passed. While waiting, Luci spotted a first-edition copy of Dracula, the two struck up a conversation about Gothic novels, and from there blossomed a sweet, loyal friendship, the only real one Luci had had in her adult life.

Fast-forward four years, and many conversations, late-night reading sessions, and the devastating passing of Luci's gran later, Aziraphale - who, Luci had discovered within a year of their friendship, was actually a bloody angel - was visited by his demon friend during yet another relaxing late night with Luci. Unfortunately, the peace of the night didn't last long, as the demon, Crowley, came proclaiming that the Antichrist was now on Earth and that they likely had less than two decades until Armageddon. That night, Luci sat quietly sipping her wine as the angel and the demon made plans to attempt to avert the end of the world - which was just fine with her, really; she'd been living in this world for a number of years, and while her life, with the exception of her friendship with Aziraphale, had always been rather plain, she quite liked living in it.

But fast-forward eleven more years, and suddenly Crowley and Aziraphale have discovered that they've misplaced the Antichrist (which, Luci thought, should have been rather impossible) and with less than a week to go until the End of Days, they really have to kick themselves into gear. And now Luci, who has oftentimes thought of herself as the most ordinary human on the planet, is pulled into a most extraordinary adventure, involving a book of scarily accurate prophecies, a vintage car that only plays her favorite band, and a hellhound that, in her opinion, is entirely too small to properly do its job.

And if Luci, the angel she's been pining after for more than a decade, and the demon who's quickly growing on her are Earth's last line of defense - oh, this planet is definitely doomed. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginnystilinski-reblogs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag.

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 95 }

the warmth that you give.

barnabas tharmr x fem.reader

warnings: essentially a thirst post for my main man and husband. an unedited mess of yearnings; minors please don’t interact. 

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

the breaths that escapes from her parted lips was clearly seen against the chilly night air, appearing almost like wisps of smoke as violent tremors coursed through her form.

the light that once was seen exuded from the candles and torches have long since extinguished, leaving her chambers in near complete and total darkness had it not been for the slender light of the moon peeking through the window. her eyes were clenched shut, body aching upon feeling such a coldness coursing through her very veins. 

with yet another shudder, it takes the young woman a herculean effort to lift herself from the comfort of the mattress, wrapping the burgundy mantle across her bare shoulders while her eyes gave the man settled next to her a look of absolute yearning. 

barnabas lay next to her, completely unaware of her awakening as he was still caught up in his peaceful slumber. she watches the way his chest rises and falls in tune to his soft breathing all while trembling with need for him. from this close proximity, the young queen could feel the body heat that exudes from her husband’s powerful form, causing her to bite back a gasp when she gathers her courage and surges toward him. 

the blankets weren’t warm enough, allowing the burgundy mantle to slide off her form as she lays herself on top of barnabas’s body. with her arms wrapped around the back of his neck, she allows her face to hide within the junction of where his neck and shoulders met, almost purring at how warm he was. feeling a great amount of comfort, she allows her lips to press loving kisses against her husband’s skin, the sensation felt on his heated skin making him steadily awaken with a groan. 

feeling the weight of his wife settled on top of him, barnabas allows his arms to slowly wrap around his wife’s back, pressing a kiss against the top of her hair. “what is it?”

his deep voice was achingly rough, yet oh so sensual, the sound of it still managing to make her tremble all while letting out a dreamy sigh. she keeps herself in close proximity to him, still wishing to bask in the warmth he exudes as she allows her eyes to meet with his hazy, steel blue gaze. “i’m sorry my darling king, for i felt cold and couldn’t sleep.”

he was silent for a few beats, humming a little bit as his eyes slowly began to close once more. the fair maiden believed that her husband was going to fall back asleep-

that is, until she felt his arms move the entirety of her body lower, and she could feel something poking at her inner thighs. she couldn’t stop the gasp from escaping from her lips when his engorged cock was felt poking at her soft skin. 

“aye, i can warm you up if you desire?” dear eikons, barnabas’s voice was pure seduction at this point, becoming potent enough to banish the cold from her very veins as she became filled with desire for her husband. 

“yes, i desire it...” was the young woman’s final answer, more than ready for him to lay her back down against the plush mattress of their bed before mounting her like a desperate stallion in heat for its mare-

so imagine the pure and utter shock she feels when barnabas places both of his hands against her waist, sliding her even lower still before plunging his aching erection within her slick core with an almost scarily accurate precision. such a sinful sensation makes her toss her head back, but she found that she couldn’t move with how barnabas kept his powerful arms wrapped around her. 

she was gasping, feeling the front of her heaving breasts meet with barnabas’s heated pectorals, her mind turning hazy due to the sheer amount of pleasure she felt alone as he continued to make love to her in this new position. for a brief moment, she wondered why barnabas was holding her so tightly against him, making her nearly scream when his hips collided with hers in such a powerful thrust-

but when she recalls telling him how cold she felt just moments ago, her whole body began to heat up with pleasure and the absolute love she felt for the man pounding so desperately below her. her declarations of love for her husband comes out in stuttered and broken moans, feeling her slick walls begin to twitch and convulse each time barnabas moved so sinfully against her. 

their passions lasted well into the midst of the night, with dawn nearly breaking when she finds herself mounted against her husband, with her legs settled on either side of his hips. gone was the chill that once haunted her form as a fiery lust ignites the blood in her veins. her skin was damp with a light sheen of sweat, and despite how her husband had ensured her of his fill, he was still insatiable when it came to her and her alone. 

his cock was still buried so deeply inside of her, and she forces herself to ride him at a much faster pace upon feeling the way he had grown from within her aching flower. with a gasp of his name, she feels her back arch against him, reaching her completion once more as evidence of her sweet release flows down her husband’s shaft. such a hedonistically sinful sight was enough to make the dark king of waloed let out a roar of her name, stilling his hips as he spilled his seed within her one last time, all while murmuring sinful phrases of how well his wife was taking it before falling back down against the comforts of their shared bed once more. 

despite how their sheets had become stained with evidence of their love, the young queen couldn’t find it in herself to care. she lands back down against barnabas’s chest, earning a tiny grunt from him all while pressing gentle kisses across his powerful chest. “i love you, so much.” she tells him all while lightly biting down against his collarbone, earning a hiss and a smack on her bum from barnabas in response. 

“and you know i would do anything for you-”

“even make sinful, passionate love, just to keep me warm?”

“aye, even that.”

lifting up her gaze, barnabas leans in to press a searing kiss against her lips. he delves into her taste before murmuring against her skin, “are you still cold, my lady?”

she shakes her head, admitting that she felt warm now, almost too hot after completing their copulation. this earns her a smirk from barnabas as he lays back down, taking her with him all while keeping her against his chest. his deep voice beckons her to sleep, promising to take her to their favorite spot within the moor once his duties were completed for the day. 

feeling so comfortable whilst in her husband’s arms, the young queen lets out a yawn before allowing herself to drift off to sleep...

...finding herself dreaming of children that had the same, deep blue eyes as their father. 

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[themetalvirus]

shadow having to stare android clones of himself in the face and being so used to it he doesnt even flinch anymore is so fucked and im gonna bite through steel. like, metal sonic isn't a super close/accurate replica of sonic. the shadow androids are supposed to look scarily similar to shadow and i feel like it's clearly some kind of Eggman Power Move. just constantly dangling the You Were Made (By My Grandpappy) thing in front of his face. shadow being artificial isn't something he has any shame in... except when he's convinced he's an android for a while in shth05. idk. i have no point here i just think its interesting

[chaoticjoke]

honest opinion, and heeeere weeee go: your portrayal of the joker is scarily accurate (this is a compliment of the highest degree) from little actions to dialogue to how you describe scenes is breathtakingly spot on. christopher nolan is shaking in his boots, applauding from a distance. as am i. every one of your interactions is so interesting to read, the joker is PERFECT in each one no matter the scenario. your aesthetic reblogs, about reblogs, your graphics - everything is so on point. i will never be able to find the words to describe how well you bring him to life in your replies, it is truly a work of art and is terrifying (in the best way) you're a joy on the dash, with every post. i live for your portrayal of this madman, its like every reblog is the dark knight 2.0, and thats amazing because we didnt get to see enough of heath unfortunately. but honestly you make up for that, so thank you.

tell me your honest opinion of my portrayal

um...anon? i have a question.

do you mind if i print this and hang it on my wall? so i can reread it whenever i have second thoughts about my writing?

the way my jaw dropped when i saw this in my inbox, i never expected to read something like this about my humble blog :D i'm actually terrible at replying to compliments of such degree and this one has rendered me completely speechless... all what i'm going to say is that my love for this character has no limits and being on here after all these years still brings me great joy and happiness.

i'm so glad you take interest in my writing and enjoy my portrayal, my main goal is to be as close to what we've seen in the movie as possible and not water him down.

thank you for such an inspiring message and thank you for making my day.

[atinyladybug-daydreams]

David Bright Headcanons:

Mister Cupcake's service vest would have a small pouch or backpack attached with one or two different cane tips so if David goes to a places with different terrains, he can change his cane tips.

David organises his money in his wallet by folding then differently. Or he just puts them in different pockets.

Carries trail mix in his pocket at all times. And snacks. A lot of snacks. He has a candy bar somewhere in his jeans.

He's actually pretty fit and buff. Works out a lot. Man's got muscles. He's also, like, really tall.

Prior to his blindness, like Mikell, David's aim is scarily accurate. He was very good with axe-throwing.

He's very sporty and outdoorsy, actually. Prior to that incident, he spends a lot of time doing outdoor activities like horseback riding, biking, hiking and ice hockey.

He still love sports and outdoor activities. Dude still regularly goes on a lot of walks, hikes and swims. He's been trying out rock-climbing too.

Despite his active lifestyle, within the Serpent's Hand, he's more well known for being a more behind-the-scenes guy. He's the guy you'd look for advice or opinions or even ask to represent/talk to people. (Brain not braining ATM so I can't think of the words)

This man is wayyyyy too much like Mikell in terms of charisma, people skills and charm. (Listen, Mikell did not get THAT many children without some sort people-skills you get me?)

He's in a big, closed polycule with 5 other guys. They're not all human but they all love each other and hold hands.

You can count on him to have a knife all the time.

He's actually pretty close with Sera and they're pretty friendly towards each other! He helped her a lot.

He gets a bit tense around Yoric though. Something about him makes him feel really uncomfortable and he can never figure out or see what Yoric will do next. (A Yoric headcanon that deserves its own post)

David's clairvoyance is not as powerful as Claire's because he's only Clairvoyant while Claire has Clairvoyance, Clairaudience AND Claircognizant.

He's got his hair in an undercut and his hairstyle really changes from time to time.

He actually doesn't really mind how long his hair is as as it's out of his face but one of his boyfriends uses him to practice on working with black hair and he's always happy to help them.

His boyfriends once dressed him up in a full on tuxedo with his sunglasses and he looked like a bodyguard to a celebrity. There were so many pictures taken.

Bonus: Mister Cupcake's tail gets dyed a lot. Mostly rainbow but once got the MLM flag palette, bright neon pink and toxic green

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Hey , i love your matchups 👍

Can i get a The Hobbit* male ,( and if its not to much a female*Lotr ) matchup

My Pronouns are She / Her (pansexual , ace ) , i'm 5'8 and my mbti is intp-t , my zodiac is pisces , my aesthetic would be dark academia and witchy like dark colors and long skirts and plattform boots .

i'm a person who is mostly alone or with my pets than with an other person , i love comedy and trash - TV and i have almost everywhere i go my headphones on , i love podcasts and music , i'm pretty funny and can be loud and open if i know i can trust people wich is hard because i have trust issues also ADHD , but i'm insecure and need someone i can rely on . I love baking , dancing and mostly i sit on a swing in my garden while i watch the sun go down , i love all my pets ( i have 6) , i would like to travel the world sonetime with someone , i always want to help people and want a harmonic surrounding , my love language is physical touch .

I don't like people who are closed and cold all the time , or talk behind others backs . Or someone who is overly protective and controlling .

All in all i need a person who is okay with with what they have , loyal , caring , can get me to laugh and smile and loves me with all their heart .

💜💜💜💜💜

( i'm sorry it's to short , or when there are any mistakes , English us not my first language )

hey that's no problem at all, this is absolutely long enough! i hope you enjoy your matchup!!!

also can i just say. after reading through your introduction a few times i um, you are scarily accurately me. this is probably of zero interest to you but you are really terrifyingly similar to me. still i focused on who i think would fit you (me? us? sorry i'll stop) best instead of who i dream of most so yeah. whatever you know

I ship you with...

Bard!

It's harmonic and quiet and calm at home, as always. And you love that, you do. But when your brother gets a surprise visit by a company of thirteen dwarves and decides not to help (in favour of his own harmonic and quiet and calm at home), you're physically incapable of not helping in his place. Helping is your thing, plus you feel like the dwarves should be able to enjoy that same peaceful quiet in a home the way you can, and the only way that could possibly happen is with your help. So you do help.

The first time you meet Bard you're wet and worn out on some big rock in the middle of a river. You've been through literal hell and you're definitely far from your best, but he's obviously attractive and for a second there you try to wring out your skirt and comb through your hair and make yourself look presentable again. Not that that you manage in the slightest, so you do your best to shrink into the background and stay quiet the way you usually do.

What follows is worse (you reek of fish and you don't think you'll ever fully recover from swimming through toilet water) so when you finally stand steadily on both your feet in Bard's home, you feel nauseous. But you push through and you clean yourself off and when Bard comes in to see you fight against disgusting wet clothing, he addresses you directly for the very first time. And that to offer you a bath and some of his daughter's dresses (if they fit you, of course).

Your brother is the only one who actually talks to Bard. The dwarves all aren't too fond of him, but Bilbo is happy about the first cultured person on this entire journey (no matter how fond he's become of the dwarves) and since you're mostly with him... well, you're mostly with Bard now, too. He holds good conversation, he's open and honest and he's funny too, quick-witted and sarcastic and if at first glance you were already a bit in love, now you definitely are. This isn't the right place or time in the slightest, but you're dry and cozy and he's tall (or maybe you're just tiny?) and intelligent and nice and you can't help yourself after that dreadful journey you went through. You wanted to travel the world, you did, but you'd stumbled into just a few too many vile creatures until now to actually have enjoyed it, so you liked the comfort of an actual home much more.

It wasn't particularly comfortable, of course, because there were thirteen dwarves with you and one of them was deadly injured, so in that helpful manner of yours that you'd shown so many times already, you did your best to help out Kili too. It's why you miss out on a mighty few things - Thorin and Bard verbally facing off, for example, and most of the party the master of Lake Town throws for the entire company, but it does mean that when eleven out of thirteen dwarves plus your brother go out to drink, you're pretty much left alone with Bard, who would rather have thrown himself off the Lonely Mountain than join in these festivities.

So when Bard sits in a corner, with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands and all his children are asleep and Kili is in some state of delirium and Fili is staring out of the windows at the party outside (not that he couldn't have gone, but he wanted to stay with his brother), you feel the overwhelming urge to somehow comfort him. You push back the gnawing insecurity in your mind, try to ignore your growing attraction to him and do your best to remind yourself of the fact that you've had quite a few conversations already, of the fact that he's nice and funny and apparently upset. So you talk to him.

You talk to him the entire night. At first it's to ease his discomfort, then it's to talk about anything and everything - to laugh and to smile and to forget about everything bad happening for a minute. Only when you yawn for the first time do you realise that it's way past midnight already, that even Fili has fallen into some kind of slumber by now and that you're actually really, really tired, and Bard smiles and tells you to go to sleep. And after a night of talking to this lovely man in front of you, you've come to trust him a bit - maybe that's irrational and maybe it's dumb, but he feels safe - so you end up with your head on his shoulder. He's still right there next to you when you wake up in the morning, his arm wrapped around your waist safely, and at first you recoil - you're not used to anyone touching you, not anyone but Bilbo. But this feels strangely comfortable, he's warm and cozy and after a second of shock, you decide to allow this to feel exactly that way. Maybe it's all a bit quick and you're definitely stressing about it - it's hard to let someone in and let someone touch you and trust them not to try and imprison and kill you like the last few times you were grabbed and manhandled, but all of that was rough and this is soft and deliberate. You've known this man for a few days now and you decide that that's enough to let him hold you like this. For just another few minutes.

That morning you face quite a hard choice. It's relatively easy in the end, but the thing you'd worked so hard for (reclaiming Erebor) stood in direct conflict with helping Kili not to die, so it took a bit of thinking and stressing for you and Bilbo to eventually come to an agreement - he'd go with Thorin to fulfill the part of the burglar, and you'd stay with the princes to look after Kili. It wasn't like you were a skilled healer or anything of the sort, but with all the pets you'd had over the years, you'd picked up on at least some things to do when someone was injured, and that was better than most things the dwarves could do. And luckily, even though he's certainly no fan of them, Bard is a decent human being, kind and empathetic, and he doesn't want anyone to die a horrible death, so he helps where he can, makes sure to get you everything you need and generally stays by your side until Tauriel shows up.

You pretty much collapse after that (you'd gladly helped Kili out, of course, but it had been straining to say the least), sinking into a little pile in a corner of the room and breathing in and out a few times, and then Bard is there right next to you, handing you water and bread and asking if he can hug you, and you look up at him and debate it - debate whether you're going to let this man in, this man who you've been talking and laughing with for over a week now, this man who has been nothing but kind and understanding and responsible, who may have opposed your entire journey, but with good reasoning - and besides, Thorin has barely been anything other than a complete arse, so you don't mind that much that Bard isn't totally fond of him.

So? Do you let him in? This man who ticks off all your boxes? Who's compassionate and loyal and helpful and reliable?

Of course. Of course you do. It's the one time you decide to bite the bullet, to push back the insecurities and the anxiety because he's here and he's been here, he's been there for you practically more than anyone else has, and that's only been the last week or so. You decide that yes, you trust him, you trust this hunk of a man, because he's asking for your consent instead of just touching you, because he's been making you laugh and luring you out of your shell step by step, because - yes, because he's here, right now, when you need him.

Smaug's attack and the battle that follows are a blur. Afterwards, you don't remember that much about it, and you're honestly not too mad about it. You remember Bard being a hero and a leader and a saviour - your saviour, specifically. You remember fighting and screaming and blood and the desire to help out, to help as much as you can, and you remember surviving. You remember the dread, the gut-wrenching dread because you weren't sure just who had survived - had Bard died? Had Bilbo? How many of the dwarves were still alive?

But then it all becomes crystal-clear. The hazy, foggy memories turn sharp and bright from one very particular moment on: That moment that the raging battlefield clears, that the screaming dies, that Bard returns to you with blood all over and a limp and a sword in his hand but alive, well and alive, breathing and with a beating heart. That moment that you drop everything you'd been holding, throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. Because he'd made it. Because you'd been terrified for him. Because, just maybe, you'd fallen in love with him.

Your brother is alive and so is the rest of the company, which makes the whole thing a little easier to deal with. At least there's no major death problems. While you were busy with your own little romance, your brother's now engaged to a king, so your home back in the Shire is available to you and to you only - and while Bard feels a responsibility to help rebuild his town, the promises of not one, but two kings (Thranduil included, of course) and a very powerful consort (your brother, that is) plus twelve other dwarves and a wizard are quite enough for him to realise that his people are in good hands, that the town will be restored and that until then, they will have food and water and shelter and so he takes his things and his children and goes back to the Shire with you.

It's a little small (a little a lot) and you have to make quite some changes, but it does work out in the end. It's new to all of you, of course, the whole situation - you've never been in love like that, but especially not with a man who already has children of his own, and it's not always easy to manage a relationship like this. But Bard is just a little too perfect for you not to give it your all, so you do exactly that. Bard loves nature and he loves animals and his kids do too, he loves the swing in your garden and so do they, he loves your baking and he loves to dance with you and he especially loves when Bilbo and Thorin visit, or when you visit them, because his children are occupied then and he can steal you away to a tavern or an inn and dance long into the night. He holds you in his arms and carries you wherever you could possibly want to go and if it were up to him, he would never let go of you again until the end of times.

[grieverled-moved]

HE'D ALWAYS MADE IT WELL KNOWN TO THE MAN HIMSELF THAT HE WAS SOMEONE WHO WAS HARD TO READ. Practically a walking surprise, the gun-blader could hardly say whatever he'd come to expect from him was ever accurate or played out how he'd thought it should've. Usually, he had a heavy handle on that particular skill of his, honing it as sharp as he'd managed to be able to get an perfect read on someone long before he'd approached so he could anticipate what action to take next.

In his line of work, being able to make such a call well in advance held the difference between life & death, & yet . . . here the frustrating bastard was yet again proving that for all his self-perceived skill in this field, for all the things he'd seen or claimed he had — he still couldn't anticipate just who Zack Fair was, what it was he'd wanted, or whether his intentions were completely pure with no malicious motives.

Every bone in his body wants to trust him, but given his past, all he'd seen . . . it's a hard task to accomplish. In his opinion, there was no such thing as a good man — but Fair came scarily close. But it'd never upset the other. No, instead, the optimistic, forever sunny First would always reassure him that whatever answer Squall's given when he did ask him anything, it was fine in the end. While many SOLDIER's were hardheaded, stubborn, bearing their own sort of inflated pride at even making it within these ranks, Zack carried himself differently in a way that couldn't help but lure his attention.

He was genuine. Honest in his empathy, while ensuring his attitude was one that never harmed, always did his best to uplift those in his presence & under his care.

That sort of gentle tenderness was rarely seen by the Turk, enough that once he’s face to face with it for as long as he had been, getting to know the other man bit by bit, it stuns him frozen solid when the other reaches over to brush a bit of his dangling bangs from his eyes, slow as gloved fingers tuck the odd strands behind an ear more securely — he isn’t sure just how to react, what he’s supposed to do. He moves like he’s going to startle him, & maybe it’s wise he is, because Squall’s heartbeat is pacing so loud it’s hard to think logically, breath curiously catching in his throat as he glances up to watch the strange man with wide, questioning eyes.

His pen ceases its glide along the pages it scrawls atop, grip tightening in some budding anticipation, some fear, wielding it like a weapon if only for comforts sake. When Fair moves his hand to hover, a canopy ready to cradle the curved edge of his jaw in the open side of his palm, Squall exhales through his nose with a slow swallow.

❝ . . . Can I? ❞

The bastard doesn’t even need to ask.

*Send “...Can I?” for my muses reaction to yours asking to kiss them. ➤ @myristicisms [ ; ] “ Can I…? ”

[bonesandthebees]

OH GOD ITS THIS CHAPTER (5) OH GOD OH FUCKSHFKGKF

I remember this chapter caught me SO OFF guard, i wasnt expecting the angst to be so intense /pos goddd this chapter is so good

Another eerie parallel of hats and my life is my aunt gifted me tarot cards, and we spoke a lot about tarot when i went to visit her, wild

Apparently her mom used to do tarot but then she predicted her best friend's death so she stopped 🧍‍♂️ LIKE??!?! MY AUNT JUST DROPPED THAT ON ME AND CHANGED THE TOPIC LIKE HELLOOO GO BACK WDYM UR MOM PREDICTED SOMEONES DEATH?!??!?@?

Shits wild, she ALSO told me some hella spooky irl ghost stories

Also lmfao i love hats tubbo sm, hes so iconic

I LOVE WILBUR SO MUCH

HES SUCHHHH AN OLDER BROTHER SOBS CRIES WAILS

SCREAMS

*SCREAMS*

I FORGOT HE ALMOST SLIPS UP OHMYGOD OHGMDYDOHGKDYFI

OIHDHDJDJD

HE LOVES HIM SO MUCH:(( HE LOVES HIM SOOOO MUCH BROISHFODUEOF 😭😭😭 THIS FIC MAKES ME SO ILL MAN SO ILL

It is crazy how accurate tarot can get like bruh... whenever i do it the cards themselves align with each other so well, to the point where sometimes they'll literally say the same thing 😭 out of the 60 plus cards in my deck i somehow chose the two that say the same thing, wild (i dont have an exact tarot deck, it's a spiritual oracle one but still cool :D

EUEUEUEU i love thr reading sm

I love how immediately after the cards call tommy out for not talking to Phil, he runs into him 😭😭 its so funny i love it sm

HEJRKFIGJDGEKFJFJDD OHMYGOD WE'RE AT THE SCENE OHMYGODDHDKGKF

I remember being so jumpscared by the amount of adrenaline this scene gave me like ??? Bro its a slice of life movie, Why do i feel like im fearing for my LIFE /pos THE ADRENALINE IS SO MUCH FUN I LOVE THIS SCENE SO MUCH ITS SOOFOGOSJGKGK AAAAA ABDKGKGNDKDJKGKGMFBRJGNFNFKGMNF I CANT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC

THIS IS SO AWKWARD [SCREAMS] OHMYGODDD

I love tubbo:( all of them are so supportive

This is the most fucking awkward conversation 😭😭

GODDD I CANTTT HE WIDPFIFKF THE MISCOMMUNICATION HURTS SJFOGIGJTN AAAAA SOBSSS

Wilbur caLLED PHIL DAD OHMYGOD NOBODY MOVE BEE SANDDUO OHMGYFOHMGYDPHLHUDHSFODIAHEFODUODFJKFKDJEOTJDJFKGKF IM SO WEAK AND FRAIL AAAAAAA

SGFKFUSORHSKFJJFJDB ABDKAVJRBSJDBSKSBRKSN

SLAMS FIST ON DESK

CRIMEBOYS

THEYRJEOSOSOSUDKSDIFJFK THEYRE A9DOOOSODJFDLFJ I CANT I CANT OHMUGODUDHDOWHRIDJ

HES SOOOO FOND OHMYGOD

Tommys such a little shit shfkgkfkf a clever one but still shfkgkglf

THIS FIC IS SO GOOODOFJFLGKDHSJFKF

THE HUG, IM SCREAMING

God i am not ready for the next few chapters

LMAO ngl I don't know how your aunt's mom could've predicted someones death when that's not really what tarot does (at least to my knowledge) but uhh idk I don't do it myself so who knows

tangerines crimeboys make me so ill you dont understand aaaaa wilbur wants to be a supportive older brother but also doesn't wanna push too hard and make tommy uncomfortable bc tommy was so young the last time they were siblings and just gahhh

I'm actually very much a skeptic of all those kinds of things tarot included, and I view tarot as more of a self reflective tool than anything else, but yeah it can definitely feel scarily accurate at times. the few times friends have done readings for me sometimes they say something insanely close to what i'm dealing with in my life and I'm just like OH

lol yeah ngl I was like "do I really want them to run into phil right after this tarot card reading" but I didn't want to put it off for another chapter bc the setup was just too convenient so I was like oh well it'll be plot convenience

it was SUCH an awkward conversation god all the interactions between tommy and phil in this fic are so tense

crimeboys <333 tommy using being drunk as an excuse to get a hug we love to see it

[boralogues]

Hello i have more two wuv headcannons :) this time it's how well the freaks can see (idk why i just thought of this) zubin- Because zube's hair is always covering his eyes he can't rlly see, so he relies on hearing a lot more. he can tell who's walking into/out of a room just by the sound their footsteps make. sometimes he parts his hair over one eye so he can look at ppl, especially meeting them for the first time (like seeing random ppl in the forest). sometimes his hair pokes his eyes so he has to brush it out the way before it inevitably falls back (i had a fringe that was exactly like this it sucked) joe- since half of joe's face is burned and he can't see out of one eye he uses glasses (those tiny oval ones in like, every photo ever) to help his normal eye work better. the normal eye is still a little bit fuzzy due to the burns, but the glasses cover that. rob- he's always crying so even when he isn't his eyes are all cloudy and wet. he wears his glasses but they don't do much due to how much he cries, and how cracked they are. andrew- andy lives in the forest like 99% of the time so he's gotten really used to the dark, to the point where he can see better when it's dark than light (basically semi-nightvision). he's developed a sensitivity to bright light so he wears a pair of stolen sunglasses if he's ever somewhere too bright (like if someone shone [is shone the right word? im in extended english i should know this] a flashlight near him) ross- since we still havent gotten any ross lore >:( (/j) i dont have much to work off of. im just gonna say he can see normally, just a little fuzzy due to injuries bora- also dont have much to work off. he has the best eyesight out of everyone. he pays reaaallly close attention to things. mostly his rats. (he can tell all of them apart by their fur, but he gives them little fabric bows or something so everyone knows which ones which) casey- i think in an older post (i think it was that fic someone wrote i forgor who) it mentioned casey falling and hitting his eye on a rock. so that eye is either completely or mostly blind. he wears an eyepatch over it bcs he finds it cool and practical. candi made him do a pirate voice while he was wearing it and that was one of few happy moments these freaky little guys have. its now a running joke between them steve- i think it was the first post/ask w him in it where the asker mentioned he could dilate his pupils like a cat so screw it. his eyes are exactly like cats. everyone thinks its cool and steve just nods cause he doesnt speak. candi- i think i already mentioned it but because of the scar over her eyes, everythings slightly blurry for her. she struggles with objects that are too far away, but it's nothing too severe. she's probably tried out the other's glasses/stolen ones from people in the forest and they might help a bit. but she doesnt want to take them when the others need them so she doesnt wear glasses (she probably put a pair of glasses on and was like. "wait why is everything in hd?")

AAAAAH YES ! need more headcanons about them that's just. Mundane stuff like this I adore it.

Zubins is. Scarily accurate this guy would be basing everything off of hearing shit that is too real

JOE W THE GLASSES YEEEEES OH MY GOD !!!!!!! AHGH I love that I must draw Joe w the glasses ... too real

Oh yeah Rob :(.. his glasses would be all cracked n broken and even rusty from the excess of tears ... sigh :(

Shone is the right word!! Andrew would absolutely be sensitive to light, he'd hiss like a cat if some random hiker flashed a flashlight in his direction, or even getting near a campfire hurts his eyes. I love the idea of him having some sunglasses so he can explore brighter areas with campfires/lights :>

I PROMISE ILL BE WRITING OUT SOME ROSS LORE SOON MY APOLOGIES.. I got that procrastination ADHD ... but yes I do think Ross would have the best vision out of all of them.

AWWW THE IDEA OF BORA PUTTING LITTLE BOWS N STUFF ON HIS RATS IS SOOOO Q_Q <3<3<3 LOVE THAT !! I think Bora would have pretty bad vision but he'd get Andrew to steal him some glasses... he'd definitely lose them and his rats would have to find them and bring them back to him 😭

CASEY. YES!!!!! CANDI AND CASEY JOKING ABT HIS EYEPATCH ... AND NOBODY ELSE GETTING THEIR INSIDE JOKE AUUGGJDHFHF <3

Steve eye dilation realness <3

HAHDHAHDHD YESS CANDI TRUTH !!! I love the idea of her stealing the others glasses / trying them on 😭 IMO I think the others wouldn't notice but Joe would definitely notice his glasses gone and he'd get frustrated...

I love these soo much I'm so sorry i replied so late... I read these a while back and smiled so big and these made me smile so big again :)) thank you <3 I promise Ross lore soon..

[neostriatum]

Every soul its particular aspiration

[AO3] [Dreamwidth]

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"Every age hath its own problem, and every soul its particular aspiration." - Proclamation of Bahá'u'lláh, by Bahá'u'lláh

-

The scratching of the charcoal grated on her ears. It wasn’t, per se, the sound itself. No, what made her teeth gnash and pulse thrum in frustration was the abject knowledge that such a noise was the product of an inferior product. Her teeth pulled back, An inferior product for an inferior person.

Sokka, offensive person that he was, took no notice of her snarling thoughts as he doodled on his sketchpad, tongue sticking out in concentration. Unfortunately for her, he was much more versed in big brother behaviours than Zuzu, and so needling him into compliance wouldn’t work.

She frowned at him, picking through her observations to figure out what sort of pressure would get him to bend to her will. The answer would come to her eventually, try as the healers might to dissuade Azula from her natural talents. They hadn’t succeeded in several years, and she was loathe to let anyone take away such a core tenet of her personality.

Humming interrupted her, a catchy jangle interspersed with words too quiet to be discerned. Her resolve broke into splintery fragments as she snapped, “Will you stop that.”

The Watertribesman stopped with an abrasive scratch of charcoal on paper, a baffled look on his face. “Drawing?”

“That too.” She was not pouting, she was not.

His idiotic look only strengthened, and Azula dug her nails into her crossed arms to resist lashing out. The bars of her so-called residence would be only a minor impediment, she was sure.

There was a beat of blessed silence. Then, “... Do you want to see?”

“No.”

“Aw.” He looked dejected, but she was feeling too churlish to smirk about it. Shaking the paper out, and releasing a fume of dust that made her frown some more, Sokka continued, “I mean, I kind of wanted to know what you thought.”

Azula blinked. What. “What?”

Indescribably, Sokka brightened, “Yeah! You’re like… scarily smart, and none of the others can figure out what I’m drawing.”

“I’m sure that’s because of your impeccable skills,” She drawled, but loosened her posture anyway in curiosity, squinting at the horrific mess the boy was making. Sokka helpfully displayed his creation to her, a hopeful grin on his face. Harrumphing, she arched a brow, “Perhaps it would be more useful if you drew intelligibly.”

“Hey, I’m intelligent!”

Azula drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes and counting to ten. Exhaling, and disgruntled on an entirely different level that no flames came with it, she said, “Idiot. I meant that you have no skill in accurately depicting what you’re thinking.”

There, that was helpful, yes? It followed the stringent instructions of her healers precisely.

Sokka frowned, and glanced down at his paper in doubt. Perhaps not, she thought, eyeing him warily. Zuzu was predictable when his fragile ego took a blow, but this insolent boy was relatively unknown. It irked her, idly, incessantly, that she didn’t have enough data to predict him.

“Oh.” A response that gave her absolutely zero information, and why couldn’t he be useful? Azula gritted her teeth, even as Sokka looked back up at her. “What should I fix?”

And that- that was unexpected. She huffed, lunging forward and grabbing the paper held tantalizingly loosely in the other’s hands, “Give me that.”

Obligingly, he handed over his charcoal too, watching her curiously. Azula laid the paper onto the floor, grumbling to herself that the miniature-sized desk was nevertheless too heavy to drag over, and smoothed it out over the strip of stone that laid between her cell’s bars and the plush rug Zuzu had graciously ordered to be installed. It was flat enough to be serviceable, at any rate – it’s not like Sokka’s drawings could get any worse.

She made a test scratch on one corner, making a disgusted noise at how unevenly the line was drawn. “What is this garbage?”

“Hey, I made that myself!”

“And you suck at it,” Was Azula’s tart reply as she practically threw it back at him, “What did you use to bind this, a little airbender’s hopes and dreams?”

Sokka frowned, but it was more petulant than truly offended – a part of her breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t hollering loud enough to bring the healers running. He squinted at the charcoal for a moment, before copying her test marks. “Well, I did make this by myself…” He murmured thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, “Usually I just nab a few off Zuko’s desk, but he’s making me buy my own because they’re for official purposes or something.”

He waved the charcoal at her, “The good ones are so expensive! Did you know that? I’m not going to waste my money when I can do it myself just fine.”

Azula leaned against the bars, bemused, “You bought the cheap binder, didn’t you.”

Sokka raised a brow at her, “Well duh. Budgeting master here, I’d rather not blow my entire budget on charcoal with how much I use it. Guilting Zuko into buying me ink blocks is enough work already.”

Despite her best efforts, Azula felt a laugh bubble up. “Zuzu’s so gullible, isn’t he?”

The boy nodded vigorously, “Oh absolutely. I have to not do it too often or Katara notices and makes me return them.”

They shared a commiserative silence. Azula used it to ruminate on precisely which face her brother would have made, and it was mildly entertaining to imagine how the waterbender would react. “Hm.”

“Hm?” Sokka blinked at her, looking away from the charcoal he had been staring so contemplatively at.

“You have too much air in your fire,” She said, instead of reminiscing aloud, “The grains are too coarse, and aren’t binding well to whatever wax or resin you’re buying.”

The resulting bout of silence was long enough to make her glance in the boy’s direction, only to see the consideration with which he peered at her.

“What?” It was more defensive than she would have liked, but she assuaged herself with the haughty curiosity filtering over it.

Sokka squinted, and she frowned. When he hummed, she huffed. Right as she was envisioning her revenge in the form of a singed and properly-offended Water Tribesman, he astonished her with the simple question of, “Is that why your fire is blue?”

Azula blinked, “Well. Yes.”

He nodded, as if that answered several problems at once. She paused, and saw in her mind’s eye the path his thoughts made – yes, it probably did. Impressive.

Sokka held out his charcoal, grinning, “Wanna show me how an Azula-made charcoal writes?”

-

It took several trials and errors, but between the two of them, the perfect stick of charcoal was made. Azula peered over his shoulder as he leaned against the bars barricading her room, a peculiar feeling of peace swelling at the sight of the smooth, liquid marks being drawn on the paper.

“Success!” Sokka crowed, quietly in deference to her proximity, and she felt a matching grin tug at her lips.

“Success,” She confirmed, then leaned to the side, “Now. What was that atrocious thing you were attempting to show me?”

“Huh? Oh, that-” There was a rustle of paper, charcoal stuck unerringly behind his ear and leaving a long smudge that amused Azula immensely, before the original piece of… artistry was unceremoniously shoved back into her direction, “How much of this is from the charcoal, do you think?”

She grabbed the drawings clumsily, the angle off and her complete reticence to ruin her robes with the sub-par material creasing the paper before she could maintain a proper grip on it. Grumbling, she opened the creased mass of papers, turning it a few times before it was at the orientation she vaguely remembered.

The effort made little difference, and Azula stared uncomprehendingly at what laid before her, tongue stilled only by the hopeful look on her co-conspirator’s face. He reminded her unerringly of Ty Lee, all buoyant airs reaching for the stars, and because of that her gaze was applied a bit more ruthlessly upon Sokka’s work in an attempt to glean value from what laid before her.

Pointing at a series of miniature, delicate lines in the assumption that this was some forming blueprint, she asked, “What’s this?”

“Oh! That’s the gear shaft!” He exclaimed, quickly reaching through the bars to grab one of the other papers, holding it up with a flourish, “I drew it in better detail here, the Mechanist at the Northern Air Temple told me it’s good to have separate pages for complex things.”

“Smart man,” She muttered, mind already ticking away as she saw the array of pages in a new light. It was quick work to put them into order, Sokka intuiting what sort of big picture she was going for. “Hmm. What is this, some sort of flying machine?”

He waved the charcoal at her exuberantly, pouting only for the dramatics when she glanced up and plucked it straight from his hand, “Exactly! See, I knew that scary brainy-ness could be used for the purposes of good!”

Azula raised an eyebrow, tone dry despite the notes she was amending in the margins of the designs, “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Fine, fine,” He waved his hand, settling down so he could watch her work. It was flattering, really.

She preoccupies herself with the sketches, giving them a discerning eye while she shuffles them around. The niggle of inspiration is just out of reach, but it’s invigorating, the same spark Agni shows her when the air shifts to make way for her lightning strike- “Paper,” She demands, finger poised still over a path of least resistance, “And charcoal.”

It’s hurriedly shoved into the gaps of her cell, and she wastes no time in flattening out a couple of sheets, redrawing entire sections with quick strokes, words spilling into the margins as she notes design flaws gleaned from her own knowledge of the Mechanic’s work process. Sokka has a particular approach, but it’s obscured by his dubious technical artistry.

Winnowing out the core of his ideas is exhilarating, the flow of ideas evolving from curt questions to more involved conversations as they distilled the truth of this new goal.

It was… good. After Sokka left, promising to bring more reams of paper for the both of them, it was an easy thing to slip into the jetstreams of meditation.

-

The model in her hands is rough, the wood granted only a cursory polish to not prick her skin. Oiled paper imitated windows, allowing a glossy glance into the interior. Sokka had proudly displayed a cross-section, but it was a unique perspective to view the whole.

A packet of sweets rested between the sundry spoils of their work, and the nostalgia of watching Ran-Cha fold caramelized ash bananas into a dough to make that evening’s dessert made her sigh between shuffling pages, the candied coconut a delicate crunch to the pillowy softness of the bread. Sokka echoed her sentiment, lounging against the bars of her cell with a slice in his own hand, dragon-lychee juice in his other a cool complement to the still-steaming treat.

She settled the scale model to an unoccupied corner of floor, rearranging things so that the cross-section model was aligned to the papers that borne the idea to the world. In this, Sokka’s skill shone through, for the model was a precise replica of the drawings.

“How would it look if we angled the wings, hm-” Azula tilted her head, taking an idle sip of the juice Zuko had insisted Sokka pack (it was, admittedly, her favourite, so she wouldn’t complain too much), “Fifteen degrees? Not twenty, that’s too much.”

Sokka poked his head into the gap to better see the hinge her nail was tapping on. She tilted the paper a little, not minding the perpetual chalk dust any more that indicated impromptu revisions, so the other could see what she meant. He hummed thoughtfully, pulling away to rummage into his satchel for the compass that always accompanied him.

He tweezed the angle of the instrument, squinting at the paper through its gap. “Sixteen? Seventeen, maybe?”

Azula studied the hinge briefly, taking another bite of her bread, “We’ll try sixteen, and see about the pinion.”

“Absolutely,” Sokka agreed easily, pinching the compass to the requested degree and handing it to her to chalk up the new measurement. She sketched the revision quickly, picking up the first model with its articulated wings.

“We’ll need to make a lot of these,” She mused, wondering how it would look if- when they finished this project. A blimp that followed the air to reduce its fuel requirements was surely the next step in air technology.

“I’ll bring my kit,” Sokka promised.

-

It should be odd, to be allowed not only outside, but into the palace courtyards. It should, but it wasn’t, the sight of her and Sokka’s first full-scale model taking her breath away.

She paced around it, too preoccupied with observing how the light shone through the structured, thin metal of the wings and the actual glass windows that could open on their own, so different from the oiled paper of their scale models – the glimmer of Zuko’s dragonlike qi at the edges of the courtyard was overcome by the calculations she was already running in her mind about air pressure and currents and durability.

Sokka was beside her, equally as fascinated, holding up the plans to compare the model. He drew to a stop near the passenger door, the smoothly-oiled swing of it opening its own allure. “Hey, come look at this,” He said, gesturing her to look at the footwell, “Do you think this is enough room for the pedals?”

They had calculated for a conservation of weight, but she grimaced at the cramped space, withdrawing the charcoal behind her own ear to annotate the sheet Sokka handed her. It left a smudge of charcoal blending into her hair, but it goes unnoticed in favour of discussing scaffolding to increase space.

-

Azula’s breath fogs in the crisp, early-winter air, a parallel to the slumbering coals of her qi as Sokka pulls her toward the tarpaulin-covered model that – they hope – is fully operational.

The metal of the engine is cold, but that doesn’t deter them from debating the exact seconds needed between lighting it and turning the propellers for a full start, though they manage to hop onto the aeroplane before it takes off without them, barely missing one of the spiked towers as Sokka frantically pulls on the levers for steering.

The climb to the horizon is slow, Agni still climbing to full ascent despite the fog gathered in the dips of the caldera. It’s quiet for several tense heartbeats, but as they break past the minimum height their calculations call for, Sokka whoops in excitement.

It’s startling, freeing in a way that makes the war balloons feel hindering, and Azula can’t help her own unbidden yell of happiness when they successfully climb to their own ascent amid the noisily puttering engine.

“We did it! We did it!”

-

Author's Notes

Take one prodigy and heir apparent of a nation that flung themselves at least two epochs forward in terms of technological advancement and had a fall from grace that was frankly needed, add another prodigy and potential heir apparent of a war-torn set of inter-connected tribes with zero actual resources but his imagination, and shake the bottle until a friendship comes out. Two completely (and, I argue, complementary) different sets of genius in one room ought to come up with something extraordinary, no?

Every time I think too hard about the fact that the Fire Nation has a navy made of alloyed metals with furnaces, and a burgeoning air force also with alloyed metals with furnaces, I'm blown away by how much and how complex of math they need to accomplish this. Really, how does the ATLA-verse look like, knowing algebra and the concept of zero (and possibly negative numbers!) exists alongside metaphysics such as bending and the Spirit World and a literal, physical bridge between realities in the form of a reincarnated person?

[live-the-fangirl-life]

Divine Intervention

Aelin Galathynius x Rowan Whitethorn

“The Ouija board says you’re a little shit.” / “Oh my gods, I think the crystal ball is working. The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.”

Written for Rowaelin Month 2022 Day 7: Holiday Celebration

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Rowaelin Month | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1132 words

*This is purely fun, I dont any intend offense to those who believe in or perform the practices joked about in this fic.

*******

The storm outside raged on.

Thunder roared and howling winds tore through the night as lighting fractured the darkening sky; each blinding flash illuminating the dark canopy of rolling clouds, and giving form to the barren tree branches that crashed against each pane of the solarium’s large windows. Glass rattled in its aging frames as it withstood the onslaught of convulsing bark and torrential rain.

Inside, protected from the dangers both natural and otherwise, dozens of candles flickered, slowly melting and casting shadows across the faces of everyone in the room.

As the door closed on the mix-matched group of seven, shutting them in and setting the scene for the night ahead, the cacophony of sounds was muted by the old house, but nonetheless sang a haunting melody perfect for Halloween Night.  

Aelin took that as her cue.

“The time has come!” She clapped, demanding everyone’s attention, and gestured towards the round table in the center of the room surrounded by seven cushions. “Take your place so that we may reach out to the spirits of the beyond.”

Aelin was nothing if not committed. If she decided to use her uncle's mansion as a Halloween haven then she left no inch undecorated. If she chose to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters then she would buy the best damn candy she could find. If she was dressed up as a fortune teller...then she was going to tell some fortunes. And there were no other people she would rather do so with than her friends in this room, regardless of whether they appreciated it or not.

“You’re as much a fortune teller as I am a nun,” Lysandra shot back but grinned as she plopped down on the floor to Aelin’s right and adjusted the short Wonder Woman skirt around her. Aedion, sitting down on Lysandra’s other side, chuckled as he fanned his Superman cape behind him.

“I’ve been bestowed the all-seeing gift by Saint Halloween himself,” Aelin retorted, settling in, and waited for the rest of their group to take their seats.

“It’s Halloween – All Hallows Eve,” Rowan huffed a laugh, taking one of his plastic knives and resting it between him and Aelin, “there is no Saint Halloween. This isn’t Valentine’s day.”

Fenrys removed his eyepatch and chimed in with a smirk, “And are you trying to say this so-called Saint is from the same belief system as –”

“Would you just— okay— c’mon— can we immerse ourselves, please?” Aelin groaned. But just then, another bolt of lightning flashed and lit up the room. She muttered a quiet thank you under her breath before reclaiming her character. “The spirits are near.”

Draped over the table was a rich, plum-colored, crushed velvet cloth. The only thing atop it was the opaque crystal ball cradled in its stand directly in front of Aelin. She leaned in close, trying to pull attention to the crystal –

“Weren’t you two,” Aedion interrupted, waving a finger at Elide and Lorcan, “supposed to be the Fortune Teller and Knife Thrower?”

Aelin sighed, drawing back from the table, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She rolled her eyes and looked at her Rowan. “Yes. But this one refused to wear the wig–”

“And we,” Elide jumped in, leaning into Lorcan’s shoulder, “look more like the Adams’ than those two blondes ever will.”

Not that Rowan was blonde…white…silver…close enough; the point still stood. Especially since Elide and Lorcan’s Morticia and Gomez Adams were scarily accurate. And this way, Aelin could have a little fun. So what if the Fortune Teller dress was a few inches too short?

“Broaden your minds!” Aelin urged in an airy vibrato as she swept her hands above the crystal. “You must look beyond! The art of crystal gazing is in the clearing of the Inner Eye!”

Aedion leaned closer to Lysandra and whispered, “Isn’t that a line from Harry Potter?”

He wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was. Especially when Elide confirmed from his other side, “The movies, not the books.”

Ignoring them both, Aelin lifted her voice. “We call upon the divine spirits this dark and stormy All Hallows Eve. Reveal yourselves on this night as the barrier between life and death is at its weakest.”

Fenrys snorted.

She paused with both hands raised in an overdramatic flourish and cut a sharp look his way. The tipsy Pirate didn’t even try to hide his smirk as he jerked his head towards a board resting on an old truck in the corner of the room. “The Ouija board says you’re a little shit.”

He groaned and shot Rowan a glare when the man’s elbow jabbed into his ribs. Across from them, Aedion coughed, trying his best to hide a grin.

Arching a single brow, Aelin held Fenrys’ gaze, but then her attention flew back to the crystal ball and she drew in a sharp breath. She ignored the stares she felt boring into her as she leaned closer to the opaque crystal and gingerly touched her palm to its surface.

“Oh, my gods, I think the crystal ball is working,” she explained breathlessly. Nodding quickly, Aelin looked between the ball and a now wary-looking Fenrys. The others mirrored her and leaned closer, out of curiosity or belief, she wasn’t sure, but she placed both hands upon the crystal and closed her eyes, focusing. A second later, her eyes snapped open, and her stare immediately met the Pirate’s. “The spirits are telling me you’re a dumbass.”

A loud snort came from Lorcan’s direction, and the next moment Elide was laughing too; the sound quickly echoing around the circle. Even Aelin couldn’t help the way her lips ticked up into a smirk before pulling herself back into character.

“Tonight, I shall look into the great beyond to discover your futures.” Aelin kicked the fog machine she’d set up under the table until silvery plumes swirled in the air.

She then swapped her low, lilting voice for a rapid, quickfire one that could’ve marveled a master auctioneer. “I am not licensed – in any capacity legally, spiritually, or otherworldly – a fortune teller, clairvoyant, oracle, or other synonymous authority. All actions performed tonight are purely for entertainment and should not be used as a basis for any life-altering decisions; any of which, I shall not be held responsible for. Any and all predictions, premonitions, or readings I divine are not legally binding and cannot be held as evidence in a court of law.”

She took a pause for breath and the momentary silence was immediately filled with more of her friends’ laughter. This time, she fully welcomed the grin spreading across her face.

“Now!” Aelin cried, once again adopting that wavering cadence to her words. “Give me your hands, and let us look into the beyond!”

*****

Taglist:

@acourtofsnakes @allthebooksunderthemoon @astra-ad-mare @becarefuloflove @booklover41802 @charlizeed @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @danibutterr @doubt-less @emily-gsh @enormousbooklover @foughtconquered @fromthelibraryofemilyj @hakunamatatazz @i-have-but-one-brain-cell @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jorjy-jo @lemonade-coolattas @mariamuses @mayhemories @midsizewitch @rowaelinrambling @morganofthewildfire @nerdperson524 @rowaelinismyotp @rowansfirebringer @sayosdreams @sheharahu @sleeping-and-books @stardelia @story-scribbler @superspiritfestival @elentiyawhitethorn @swankii-art-teacher @tomtenadia @westofmoon @whimsicallyreading @moodymelanist @realbookloverproblems @gracie-rosee @julemmaes @yesdreamblog @the-regal-warrior @rowanaelinn @thestoriesyoutell @autumnbabylon @sunflowermoonshinewrites @maastrash @annejulianneh111 @the-lonelybarricade

[god1ngs]

the hunt —

+ synopsis: when you get a chance to escape, you take it

+ contains: yandere themes, yelling, lots of philza content, two mentions of drugs, swearing, technos house is not accurate (tell me if i missed anything)

+ yandere philza / reader, yandere wilbur / reader, yandere techno / reader ; 2.3k words

+ note: this is a part two to the man by the lake !! i know its kinda short haha sorry !! i hope you enjoy tho :)) its mostly philza content hahaha

+ masterlist ; tmbtl: pt1

   ever since you were drugged, you've been in the dark small room. you had no idea of where it was hidden or how you even got in, you only knew the four stone walls. over the course of time you've been in the room, the most contact you had with any of the three men was philza.

   he came and gave you food, as well as new clothes from time to time. he'd allow you to change with his back to you, although seemingly risky on his part, what could you do? you've been down here for weeks with your arms tied, and phil was a lot stronger than anyone should mistake him for.

   you were grateful for the kinder of the three. the other two, wilbur and techno, hardly came down. or at least wilbur hardly came down. philza, whenever he would come down, would say that wilbur's just been busy. at least you didn't have to see him.

   techno was the one who scared you the most though. sometimes whenever he'd come down, he'd be scarily quiet. he'd come and sit down right beside you, putting his head in his hands and muttering. you never knew what it meant, but it's the only time you've felt bad for him.

   in the middle of your thoughts, you didn't notice the trapdoor opening and the ladder creaking. philza came down the ladder, holding a bowl of fruit and a small glass of water. he balanced the two carefully as he came down, setting the two items down on the desk in the corner.

   he closed the trapdoor behind him, blocking the majority of your main light source. you jumped at the sudden darkness, looking around in a panic. you were met with philza's kind smile, along with the bowl of different fruits and water.

   "there you go, mate. thought you might be hungry." philza said, putting the bowl of fruit and the glass of water in front of you. from his pocket, he brought out a small key, unlocking the chains from your hands. that's another reason why you liked philza.

   he unchained your hands whenever he fed you, allowing you a little bit of time to stretch. unlike wilbur and techno, who always fed you themselves. he sat down on the floor in front of you, pocketing the key.

   if only you could get your hands on that key.

   philza leaned back on his hands, smiling over at you. sky blue eyes were all too kind as they stared at you, you hesitantly picking up some of the fruit. "techno grew the fruit," philza explained, talking so unexpectedly nonchalant. "he's always liked to farm."

   you examined the fruit, your eyes narrowed. as if the fruit had poisoned, that any bite could bring you to death's door. philza laughed, sensing the hesitation. "dove, if we wanted to kill you, we already would've."

   he was right, but what if he was just tricking you? you glanced between the blond and the piece of fruit, taking a bite a moment later. nothing happened in the few moments, leading you to practically inhale all the other pieces.

   "woah, mate, calm down. you'll throw up if you eat too fast." he guided, taking the bowl of fruit away from you and handing you the water. "guess we should feed you more, eh?" he joked, although you only stared at him.

   how could you talk to someone who drugged you?

   philza nudged the glass of water towards your mouth, telling you to take a sip silently. reluctantly, you took a sip, clearing your throat. it felt nice to finally have some water. philza set it down for you, sighing.

   you rubbed your wrists, happy to have them free, even if for a little bit. you almost wanted to strike and try to escape, yet you didn't have a plan and would undoubtedly get caught. you couldn't escape just yet, but you also wanted to know why.

   "why would you help them?" you asked, your voice weak and your gaze set on the floor. philza shrugged as he looked up, avoiding your gave just as you were avoiding his. he didn't answer for a few moments, thinking over his words.

   "if it's something wil and techno want, then it's something i want, dove. i have no grudge against you, but techno and wil asked me to help, and so i planned the drug." he told you, only shrugging. he didn't seem to care about you, only wilbur and techno.

   why would he care about you? you shook away the thoughts creeping up in the back of your mind, choosing to stay silent. "lately, i've taken an interest in you too though, dove." he blurted, immediately regretting the words.

   your face burnt at the words, stammering. you acted like a school girl with a crush, internally groaning. philza ushered to take the nearly empty glass of water and the empty bowl out of the room, climbing up the ladder carefully.

   the trapdoor shut with a slam, and then you were alone again.

   except philza forgot to chain your hands back up. you stared at your hands, glee crossing your face as you held your hands up. near you, you had noticed a small line of metal, curling at the bottom. how convenient.

   you reached to get it, grunting as you finally acquired the little piece of metal in your hands. you were actually doing it. you would've laughed if you weren't trying to be quiet. you put the metal inside the lock of the chain around your ankles, twisting and turning.

   like a miracle, the lock clicked open an you struggled to get out of the chains. you stood up, getting dizzy quickly. you leaned back against the wall, blinking before standing back up. who knew how long you'd have before philza realized he had left you unchained?

   the table, loaded with swords and shears, had been your best hope. you took one of the daggers, you couldn't carry anything too heavy. it'd weigh you down. you climbed the latter, the dagger being in the waist of your pants.

   no surprise, there was a lock on the trapdoor as well. you groaned quietly, lock picking the lock. it took a few minutes, but you opened the trapdoor carefully, looking out to make sure no one was there. you couldn't see anyone, meaning it was your time to go.

   you scurried up on the floor, gently shutting the trapdoor behind you. you made sure to be as quiet as possible, gripping the dagger in the waist of your pants. just in case. you waited, listening, and after not hearing anybody, you decided it was time to run.

   silently, you ran through the house, your eyes wide as you examined everything. adrenaline coursed in your veins. you were ecstatic that finally, after being in there for god knows how long, you were finally getting out. you could finally return to your normal life.

   brewing stands lined the multiple furnaces placed against the door, along with the multiple chests placed against the back wall. it was cramped in here. noticing what you hoped was the front door, you looked out of the window in beside the door.

   connected by a bridge, you noticed there was a small cottage in front of this house. you could see blond hair through one of the windows, your heart racing: philza. he was here. what if he caught you?

   the dagger seemed to cut into your skin as you reminded yourself that you've come this far and endured this much, you wouldn't let a measly man stop you from getting out of this hellhole.

   you gently opened the door, wincing. you hoped this door wasn't creaky. thankfully, it wasn't and, with philza's back to the window facing you, you got out of there hastily.

   there was a fence around the area, along with several beacons and a variety of farms. the cold wind of the tundra swept across your face, letting you laugh ecstatically. you were finally outside.

   however, your victory couldn't last long. you were still in the same area as the two, still able to get caught. you went through an exit way, heading to the left of the house you had been in.

   the purple glow of the nether portal lit a new sort of fire in your chest, adrenaline rushing through you. you ran towards it, the promise of escape right at your fingertips. you'd finally be free.

   until two people stepped outside of the nether portal, wilbur and techno. your blood ran cold, as the eyes of the brunette widened at the sight of you. techno looked surprised, yet quickly adapted to the situation.

   "go get phil," you heard him order. "i'll get them." techno, with his eyes trained on you, pulled out his sword from its sheathe. and then you ran.

   you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, going straight into the forest next to you. you ran through the thick trees, your breath heavy and your heart racing. you just wanted to go home.

   all you wanted to do was go home.

   "you can't hide from me." you heard techno's voice echo, loud and demanding. "the chase is exciting for me, little one. run while you still can."

   fear strikes through your heart, your breath speeding up as you ran. you didn't want to be with them anymore, to be trapped in a basement for weeks on end. the too familiar concrete walls made faces at you as you sat there.

   you heard leaves crunching behind you as you sprinted, trying to get away from the pink haired man. "you know," you heard his vice, bouncing off of the large trees. "if you come out now, we'll all go easy on you for your punishment."

   you nearly stopped, but the adrenaline rushing through you was too much to stop. you could get away from techno, you know you can. you just need to outrun him in the forest, or at least hide until he gets bored.

   it wasn't long until you heard wind dart past you, the force causing your hair to go in your face. swiping your hair out of your face, you gasped as you saw what caused the gust of wind.

   philza. he was flying ahead of you, his large black wings outstretched. they flapped in the wind, leaving a trail of gusts of air behind him. you hid below one of the trees, your heart racing. your legs ached.

   "no, you can go further." you mumbled to yourself, beginning to run again. you kept a look out for the sky, making sure philza didn't swoop in. your heart pulsated in your ears as you ran, the pressure of three men following you. how would you get out of this one?

with each rustling in the bushes, you felt your heartbeat get louder. you couldn't let any of them catch you. with philza hunting you now, no doubt wilbur was as well. you only wanted to live a normal life, to be by yourself, and then all of this happened.

   why you? you shook your head; you couldn't dwell on unanswered questions when you needed to run. you panted as you hid behind a tree, catching your breath. your legs begged you to take a break, yet taking a long enough break would surely be your last.

   "you can't run from us, darlin'." techno shouted, the closeness of his voice making you jump. you had to run. you pushed off of the tree, stomping on the snow beneath your boots as you ran. you ran until you saw a clearing ahead of you, your eyes widening.

   you were almost there. you were so close to the village you could barely see in the distance, hardly seeing the outline of a building amidst the fog, getting closer as you ran towards it. the sun felt good on your shoulders, your lips turning upwards in a smile.

   finally! you were finally free!

   you rolled on to the ground, tumbling as something tackled you. large black wings enveloped you and, before you could even hear a voice, you already knew who it was. philza, getting off of the ground, narrowed his eyes at you.

   "are you fucking kidding me!? all you needed to do was sit there, and then when i leave you go and run off!" he hissed at you, venom lacing his words. you sat there on the ground, shaded by philza's wings. you just wanted to go home.

   "techno and wil are going to kill you." philza told you and, at that moment, you didn't know if he was serious or not. moments later, techno and wilbur came out of the forest, both looking on high alert. they calmed down as they saw you with phil, yet you could make out the annoyance in their gazes all the same.

   techno sneered as he saw you, wilbur walking up in front of you. fear flowed through your being, attempting to back away from the brunette. "oh, dear," he shook his head, grabbing your hand. "you know you wouldn't be able to get away from us, so why try? it was pointless, love. and now you're forcing us to get you in trouble."

   your hand ached from the tight grip wilbur had, red marks showing up. your breath hitched and tears welled in your eyes, trying to back away from the man. "i just wanted to go home!" you wailed, snatching your hand away from wilbur's. you held your head in your hands, rocking yourself back and forth.

   philza sat down beside you, tucking you underneath one of his wings. "this is your new home, dove." he muttered, and you sobbed as you realized he was right. under the harsh gaze of wilbur and techno, you sobbed for the freedom you lost.

   the warmth of philza had caused you to try to push away from him, mumbling about how you didn't want to go to sleep. he only pulled you in again, shushing you. wilbur smiled at you, deceivingly perfect. techno held his firm gaze on you, and then your eyes shut.

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