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shittybundaskenyer · 2 years ago

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✹ ▬ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐒

rating: Explicit pairing: Female Shepard x Garrus Vakarian summary: the Mako breaks down in a snowstorm on Noveria. Shepard is stuck with her turian friend after some things went sideways in one of the research labs. warnings: first time gone wrong (but then so right), sex pollen, so much kissing, just pure smut (what do you want from me??), does doing it in the Mako is considered car sex?, interspecies sex, love confessions, so much fluff, Garrus is too sweet for his own good word count: 3831

a/n: I had Mass Effect Legendary Edition on my PC for like a year and I'm now cursing myself why I've waited for so long to play the trilogy. The Bioware brainrot took me once more under its influence so I guess I'm going back to my roots. This is almost entirely is pure smut, I guess I can't write anything else nowadays but I'm embracing it now. So have this very rusty, messy love scene I wrote in a frenzy after finishing the trilogy. <33

MASTERLIST | ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

Noveria is cold and white and still beautiful in that strange way only death can be. It became the noose woven around Garrus’ own neck too, when it twirled his fate and Shepard's own together in form of a messy string.

It only started becoming strange when Shepard started to tear her armor off of her body, but by then all common sense was out, laying dead in the relentless snowstorm. She became feverish, smelling so sweet, like summer, like sun-warmed earth, like arousal that Garrus had realized all too late. They were warned by the dangers of the labs surrounding Peak 15, the tower that was like an old pine ringed by fungi, all the rot and unethical discoveries blooming under the disguise of neat little buildings that twinkled in the darkened landscape—a constellation hiding in a thick cloud of dark matter.

He knows she was curious. He knows she only wanted to help, but Spirits, it will be the death of her one day, N7 or not, she’s only human. And she’s fragile, a goddamn glass cannon that can blow up the whole universe and crumble from hands that grip her a bit too tight at the same time.

Liara’s warning came too late, they had to cut to the chase and there was no time to think about the consequences of Shepard's stray shot breaking open the containment cell of an unnaturally lush, succulent little flower in one of the labs. It didn’t set in until they were in the Mako and she steered the dumb tank even more recklessly than she did it stone cold sober. A boulder came, then the half of the mountain too, raining down thick globes of fresh snow until the Mako was good and well stuck. She was sweating by then, skin hot and wet and her eyes wild and Liara offered to get help from one of the nearby labs, leaving Garrus to protect his commander with his life. From what, he didn’t know. There was nothing, only snow and wind and Shepard’s warmth all around them for miles. But time trickled by like water on a glass window after a storm, slow, sluggish, and Shepard couldn’t keep herself in line anymore.

She pleaded for a caress she always wanted from him and he wanted to give her everything instead.

(Maybe he loved her all along.)

And now, now Liara is gone and has been gone for hours, and Garrus pushes Shepard into the Mako's seat, his forehead meeting hers, something akin to a kiss only lovers do. Her skin is damp, her hair sticking to her face in messed up crimson ribbons and he tries to trace the constellations under her eye with a blunted talon when blood floods her cheeks, making them twinkle like stars adrift a sea of nebulae. The Mako is dark but not dark enough to hide the fire flickering in her gaze, shielded by a series of curved, dark lashes. Humans and their strange hair—eyebrows and lashes and thousands of fair fuzz that stand up as he moves his hand lover, to the vulnerable skin of her throat, swiping a thumb over her pulse that jumps wildly at the touch.

"Kiss me," she whispers, barely audible for the translator to pick up, and it almost sounds like music like this, a series of hisses and high notes, so he nuzzles his way closer to hear it once more, now pleading, the sound buzzing in her throat.

It's beautiful in a way.

"How?" he whispers against the side of her jaw, warm plates against cooler skin, and she puts a hand to his face, five fingers splaying over his colony markings, urging him upwards until her lips can brush over his mouth. It's strange. It's unbelievably soft. Then— wet as her tongue darts out and tries to coax his mouth plates apart.

He takes the leap and lets her in. Even if he has all the sharp teeth, even if it's wildly different from his own experiences. And Spirits, it feels good. It's tender—even though they started to tear at each other's armor before this, even though he has to clench his fingers into a fist before he scratches her in his hurry. This has to be gentle where nothing in the world is.

His tongue meets hers, and now he understands why humans like kissing so much. He does now too. Shepard makes a sound as he tastes the inside of her mouth, the blunt edge of her teeth and sucks in a breath when Garrus pulls back to gaze down at her and find her looking dazed.

"Alright?," he checks, always, afraid of fucking this precious thing up and Shepard has the audacity to smile. Full of teeth and curving lips, a flash of white in the darkness.

"I'm good," she knocks her forehead against his, nuzzling him, "really good."

Garrus kisses her again as an answer, bolder now, so much braver, and he kisses and kisses her until there's no more left to give, until there's no air in her lungs. Something new shines in her eyes, in the pool of darkness that is her pupils, dilated beyond belief, ringed by a thin strip of wild green, a black hole with a halo. Want. Need. Something more. Something unbelievable.

Garrus rumbles deep in his chest, a sound so low she can only feel its vibration against her sternum, the crook of her neck where his face finds a home. His subvocals sing so many things at once, a confession she can't understand, not yet. Contentment. Gratefulness. Lust. Love.

(Maybe I love you.)

She drags her hand across his face again, that delicate, soft hand that is only calloused in places where wielding a gun made the skin harder. She touches his fringe, and under it, where plates turn into the most vulnerable patch of hide he has on his body. His voice grows louder, more like a growl than a purr, and she smiles again, so pretty something under his keelbone jumps and bursts and flickers—a star being born.

"That's—," he starts and he's not proud of the way his voice trembles. "That's one way to give the night a quick start."

Shepard's fingers stop in their movement, but before she could pull away he takes a hold of her forearm and soothes a thumb over the inside of her wrist, guiding her back to that spot.

"Am I hurting you?"

"Spirits, no," he flicks a mandible at her, his way of smiling, and Shepard puts her mouth to his jaw as her confidence grows. Garrus can feel the plates at his sheath slowly parting and somehow he's hyperaware of her body trapped against his, her knee brushing his own, warm even through metal and ceramic plates.

They have to strip down that damn armor, like, right now.

But Shepard knows this, feels this too, and her hand disappears so she can grab the waist of his pants and tug on it, even though turian armor is not designed in a way that it could make it come off easily.

"Help me, will you?" she asks against the side of his mandible, face and incredibly soft lips still so close, her eyelashes brushing his jaw as she looks down between them in the dark and Garrus desperately wishes that he could feel that fluttering. Instead, he's stripping. The rest of his undersuit that was hanging by his hips goes lower when he unfastens every little clasp and belt he has around his spurs.

Shepard licks his mouth. He rumbles again, louder when the thin fabric of protective weave finally pools on the Mako's floor, and he's right up there against her, pressing close, so close, until his keel digs between her breasts and his side is framed by her knees and he kisses her the human way, with so much tongue and want it leaves her breathless.

"How much time do we have?" he asks against the underside of her ear, finding a soft spot there, one that pulls a whimper from her.

"Barely any," she hisses and lets him nibble on the curve of her neck. "Gonna make the most of it?"

"Trying to," he smiles, mandibles catching her messy hair, blood red on silver, hands going up to cradle her nape, to get lost in that soft sea of crimson.

Shepard likes this, likes the feel of his hide on her skin and she wants more, wants no barriers in those minimal, quiet gaps the differences of their bodies create. Negative space filled with heat and some unintelligible emotion, something like summer, something like home. She melds her body to his and Garrus can't help the low resonance his subvocals start to make.

"Am I hurting you?" she whispers as she lays tiny kisses on his neck, just beside the edge of the plates shielding his spine. "You're trembling."

"No, I just—," his breath hitches as those kisses turn into gentle nips. Right where a bondmark would go. Spirits, he's slipping. She can't know this, she can't— "You just found all the good buttons to push."

He feels her smirk on his hide. He wants to have her mark here, even though the thought terrifies him.

(Maybe I love you.)

"You know I'm good at pushing buttons."

Garrus chuckles but it comes out rasped. He doesn't care. Not when he can feel her body vibrating, shivering as his hands finally roam downwards, onto her sides, her hips, the soft of her belly that is so blessedly bare.

He slides a talon along the muscles leading down, around the small divot in the middle, lower still where Shepard's already lifting her hips up to let him free her of her undersuit pants. There's still some fabric that remains, covering her most intimate parts but she grabs his hands and makes him grip the fabric of it in a hurry.

"Pull this down too," she whisper-commands and he obliges, skims the tips of his blunted talons over the jut of her hipbones, a feature all too familiar on a body made of infinite curves. It traps his gaze, the small hills and valleys, freckled here too, and hairy when he gazes lower, a trail of tiny red curls disappearing between lush thighs as he reveals more of her skin.

The undergarment only gets down one leg, dangles on the other by her knee when he pries apart her thighs, makes himself at home right in the cradle of them. This is all too fast and all too hot, but none of them complains as they meet in another heated kiss. She smells different like this, stronger, sweet and tangy and something else, pure arousal he realizes, and Garrus can't hold himself back any longer, can't will the swollen edges of his sheath to stay closed.

"Show me how to touch you," he asks, almost pleads, because damn, he can't be selfish with her, not when he trusts her with his life and wants all the happiness the world can offer for her. That too, is a confession he's not ready to make, not for himself and not for her, but Shepard stops him in his thoughts as she puts her hand back right under his fringe, driving him wild.

"None of that right now," she pants, breathless as his hands go bruising on her hips. "I just want you inside me."

Fuck, this was not the way Garrus thought he would die.

"I don't want to hurt—" she interrupts him with another kiss, then a hand on his stomach, low enough to almost graze the plates on his groin.

"Please, Garrus," it's a plea. Broken and rasped. Raw, like a fresh wound. Why is she suffering?

"Don't let me hurt you. I could not live with myself and the consequences."

"You're sweet," she smiles quietly, looking up at him from under the shadow of those long lashes, eyes burning with fire and want and that same thing that eats his heart alive, while it still beats a wild rhythm only for her.

Garrus touches a hand between her legs, follows the trail of fascinating hair to where it parts in a seam of flesh, soft folds hiding a hot, wet warmth. It's familiar enough, so much more slick and so much smaller, but there's give in the muscle lower, where his finger finally dips inside her. Spirits, that’s—

She angles her hips, and moans, right beside his ear when his finger slips deeper, almost to the last knuckle in one go and damn if that's not something he'll remember for the rest of his life.

"C'mon," her lips brush the word against his mandible. He puts his forehead to hers and pulls his hand away, moving her instead, three fingers splayed on the jut of a hipbone.

It takes a little more shuffling, a little more angling and gripping for him to slot himself right at the apex of her thighs, her warmth scorching here, a sun, a red giant star, her wetness smearing on the bare hide of his stomach and then he's holding her firm and letting his sheath finally, blessedly open, his cock sliding out and into her in a slow, perfect motion.

Shepard doesn't breathe. She can't. Garrus can feel her shuddering against his keel as he keeps filling her, making way for himself inside her even though there's barely any. He never thought she could— that she would have all of him, like this, with her leg cramping up around his hip, with her throat full to bursting with unsaid curses and whimpers. His subvocals scream, his mind fogged by the feeling of her oh so close, so perfect, so beautiful like this, with her hands bruising his neck and her lips open on some silent shout.

"Fuck, Garrus I—," there's a hitch in her breath, then a fluttering squeeze right on his cock, her muscles clenching up. He's gonna lose his mind just like how he lost control of his voice.

(I love you.)

“I got you,” he murmurs instead, eyes half-closed, hands still gripping her waist. “I got you sweetheart.”

Shepard squirms, pulls his face right down to her, then lower, into the crook of her neck and a deep urge surfaces in him, an instinct buried deep under centuries of civilized life and culture, yet it was never erased from his genes. He evolved like this, with the want, the need, to bite, to mark something that he wants to forever keep his own. Turians mate for life. If she leaves now, he thinks he will die. Can another soul be ripped from his own? He would gladly lay in a cold grave with her. Would follow her to the end of the universe and back, just so he can protect her. Shield the one that wants to keep the world from crumbling. Travel through all the stars and Mass Relays laying dormant, see all the wild emptiness and beauty of the galaxy and it would still be nothing compared to the way she looks up at him now.

There’s water collecting at her pinched brows; sweat, he remembers, and he lifts a hand there to swipe it away. Her eyes are wet too, glossy, glinting in the low light like a starry night sky over home.

“Garrus—” she presses out between her teeth, her face scrunched up in a frown of pain-pleasure he assumes, because she never makes a move to push him away, to halt this perfect joining. He hopes it’s okay. He hopes he’s not fucking this up. Losing her after this would be a killing blow. A heart-shaped bullet hole right on his heart.

“Just tell me how,” he takes her cheek in his palm, angles her so that he can kiss her. Slowly. Softly. It’s a fleeting thing that ends with her nipping on his mouth, his tongue, just to get his attention. Like his every nerve was not focused on her anyway from the start.

“Please move,” she murmurs against his mandible, her body squeezing him tight, making him groan. He pulls back a little, testing, careful, always so afraid of hurting her, his tough girl, but Shepard smiles and it’s enough to make him thrust shallowly into her. “Yeah, you feel so good.”

Garrus’ vision whites out for a second as her insides tug him back inside, so warm and so wet that a messy patch is already forming between their bodies, his sheath hitting her folds, the friction blinding, and the sight even more as he looks down, fringe tangled into her hair, and in the darkness he finds himself nestled deep, her cunt stretched around him, glistening in their combined want.

He moves, spirits, he moves. And his chest rumbles and his hands shake and his mandibles twitch at her cheek and his heart aches so damn hard it makes his breaths get stuck in his lungs like trapped creatures in a bone cage.

(I love you so damn much.)

She moves with him like a tide, like water rising on an endless black ocean alight with stars, then falling back, and even though he knows she's the most horrible dancer the galaxy has, she follows the steps of this tango by heart. Maybe because it's wanted. Maybe because it's with him. He desperately wishes that it would be true.

"I won't last long like this," his voice is barely picked up by the translator and he knows this, hopes that she doesn't mind the sounds he makes. They're real. So perfectly clear in their meaning, so sure in expressing something he's not yet ready to say when she can understand.

(I love you, I love you, I love you.)

She puts a palm to his stomach, just above his sheath, five lithe fingers mapping out the narrow lines of his sides, and damn, it makes his cock twitch, makes him thrust in roughly for the first time. There's a sound of delight. It comes from her, head tipped back and lips smeared with spit and red strands of hair, like fresh blood after a good brawl.

"Yes," she breathes out, dragging him down to her, clinging to him tightly as he finally moves his hips in a hard, steady rhythm. His knees are gonna kill him later but it doesn’t matter because he’s with her, joined like lovers, like mates.

She takes his hand, leads it over her body, to the divot of her collarbones, her sternum, the dip of her stomach, then the soft of her belly where she makes him press down a little, makes him feel the distinct shape of him moving inside her. That's something entirely new.

It makes him even more aware of the fact that this small, fragile woman would take up a krogan in a fistfight and come out alive. It makes him lose his mind. It makes some sick, posessive part of him growl and rumble and hold her so tight he's sure her hips are gonna bruise.

"Shepard," he hisses, one hand gripping the seat behind her to find more leverage, her sounds getting louder, out of breath and high-pitched, his name a silent mantra only muttered with gaping lips. “Show me how to make you come.”

She whimpers, clutches his fingers tighter on her navel. The talons of his other hand tear the Mako’s seat behind her. She drags his palm over the mound of hairy flesh where they join, and he enjoys carding his talons through the curls, then she takes a thick finger and places the pad of it just above where he’s stretching her open with his cock, on a small bundle of swollen flesh that instantly makes her tighten around him. This is something he could never get used to—the tight warmth clinging to him like a second skin under Palaven’s unforgiving sun. He swipes his thumb over it, then draws a slow circle. The tightness becomes almost unbearable. He keens.

“Damn clever turian,” she hiccups, grinding into his touch, into his unsteady thrusts, her hand gripping his wrist instead, not guiding but trying to steady herself. “I’m so close, Garrus.”

He nuzzles her jaw at that, forehead meeting forehead after, then lips with plates, tongue with tongue. The kiss breaks off in a series of desperate gasps, and Garrus murmurs against her, “let me come with you. Senna, please I—”

“Love you,” she pants into the crook of his neck, teeth grazing him, and then biting in when he pushes his whole length into her, the stretch unbearable, her words ringing in his ears like endless echoes in a hallway made of dark matter and stardust, and he claims her, puncturing her shoulder and filling her cunt, his tie growing, the taste of her blood bursting on his tongue. Sweet. Salty. Iron. Just like her.

She tightens on him impossibly so, and then there’s a fluttering, her muscles spasming violently in an orgasm that makes her legs shake and her stomach jump. His thumb slowly stops moving on the bundle of flesh she showed him when her short nails dig forcefully into his forearm.

(I love you, I love you, I love you—)

Subvocals screaming, his whole body trembling, he finally releases her flesh, knocks his nose against hers until her eyes flutter open, dazed and unfocused, brimmed with tears, pupils dilated to infinity. She smiles, blunt teeth flashing white and blue in the low light, and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s his own blood on her lips.

He leans down to lick it off, to embrace her tighter, to feel the taste of her tingle in the back of his throat. She bit him. She marked him for life.

“I love you so damn much, baby.”

It’s out and it’s his own shot right through his heart, a shard of metal carved out just in the shape of her, and Garrus knows that nothing ever will be the same. The marks, the blood, his tie cradled by her fluttering warmth, his heart laying bare out in the snow, thawing in her warmth.

Turians don’t like the cold, but Shepard scorches and it's just the right way.

“Thank you,” she whispers, weak now, entirely spent, but not influenced by the poison of want anymore. “I know this was… not how a first date should’ve happened but…” she bites the bruised swell of her bottom lip and he smooths a hand over her cheek, brushing away sticky hairs from her face. “Can we… have a next time?”

Garrus flicks out his mandibles in a smile and hugs her tighter, reassuring, eyes full of hope and wonder and her own disheveled reflection, “I want all the next times with you.”

“Good,” her grin tickles his hide, mischievous now. “I’m looking forward to it.”

(I do too. I do, I do, I do.)

#mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #shakarian #shepard x garrus #garrus x shepard #garrus vakarian #commander shepard #oc: senna shepard #mass effect 1 #mass effect legendary edition #mass effect fanfic #shakarian fanfic #so um i wrote this while being sleep deprived #i'm so rusty #but heyy new babies i can obsess over #i cried so hard at the end of the trilogy i had to do something about it #you call it coping i call it the writer's muse

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graycats-arcane-blog · 11 months ago

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Lightcannon Week, Day 8 Fic!

Prompt: Free day (wingfic)

Title: Shooting Star

Rating: T

Length: 3.3k words

AO3: link

@lightcannonweek

Synopsis:

Lux feels defeated after a mageseeker's net pulls her from the sky.

Meanwhile, Jinx is looking for a shooting star.

Reference:

A blue jay, seen from the back. Photo by Brian Kushner, Audubon Photography Awards

A white-tailed kite in flight the wings are mostly white, darkening to gray on the primary feathers, with a dark marking at the curve of each wing. Photo by Matt Davis, Macaulay Library

. . .

Everyone had a little magic in them. No one would get off the ground otherwise.

Magic was the force that made people weightless when the sky called them. It stole the heft from the most cumbersome pieces of the human torso, causing each long, leaden leg to float like a feather rather than dangle like a pendulum. There was a shift in weight, a shift in strength, as if all the power in one's body were gathering around the muscles of their second shoulders where their wings attached. Without magic, no being in Runeterra, no matter how broad nor how swift their wings were, would have the strength to launch their bodies into flight.

Lux was born with far more magic than the small amount needed to fly. Her power ran dangerously deep, as far as Demacian opinion was concerned. In other regions of Runeterra, those with strong magic were admired, especially when their arcane skills proved to be useful, but Demacia, on the other hand, never forgot nor forgave the terrors that magic had wrought in wars of old. Any Demacian with strong magic was imprisoned, or worse, trained to hunt and harm their own kind.

That was why Lux had needed to flee.

That was why she had been chased.

That was why, just when she'd dared to hope that her pursuers were falling behind, one of them had tossed a net threaded with beads of petricite into her path.

No mage was allowed to escape Demacia. No mage was allowed to fly free.

Dazed and entangled, Lux plummeted. The light in her luminous kite-wings blazed in one last show of defiance before fading into darkness.

. . .

When she woke, Lux was hanging in the net, breathing slow mouthfuls of cold, sour air. Some of the beaded ropes had snagged onto a bit of rusty gutter cutting out awkwardly from a sloping rooftop. The roof tiles were broken along the telltale trail where her body had landed and rolled down.

Groaning, Lux swept her bleary eyes over her dark, derelict surroundings. She'd fallen into some sort of vertical city built layer over layer, so high - or, perhaps, so deep - that the top wasn't visible. About three stories up, a gauzy haze fuzzed the air, hiding the starry sky from view. If it weren't for the flickering streetlamp standing just past the gutter, Lux wouldn't have been able to see a thing in the darkness.

No sooner had she wondered if the city's residents might take pity on her than a glimpse of masked figures descending from the fog dashed her hopes.

The mageseekers had tracked her descent, and now, they'd come to collect their quarry.

One of them landed heavily on the walkway next to the streetlamp, shaking out his dark, glossy starling-wings before furling them against his back. He looked up at Lux, cocking his head to the side. "I'm glad you survived your fall, Lady Crownguard," he said smoothly. "I know you don't understand it now, but we only want to help you. You'll be grateful, in time."

Another two mageseekers landed on the rooftop, one on either side of Lux, their smoky petrel-wings long and gloomy. They reached for her net, their hands shod in thick, leather gloves, and didn't falter when they grasped the ropes beaded in petricite.

"Haul her up," the leader of the hunt called to his fellows as more mageseekers landed beside him. "I know it's been a long trek, but we must return Lady Crownguard swiftly. With the wind under our wings, we may cross back over Demacia's borders in a week's time."

Magic-draining weakness riddled Lux's body. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

Why couldn't they just let me fly away?

As her captors tugged her bonds free of the gutter and dragged her up onto the roof, she could feel her feathers fraying and getting caked with dust from their rough treatment. She shivered - the air was as chilly as it was dark. It was easy to let despair overtake her in this state, to let her mind go numb and lose focus of her surroundings.

She'd almost dissociated completely when a note of song snuck into her ears.

It was comforting and light, fluttering softly like a friendly spirit in the darkness. Instinct told Lux that these notes spoke of hopefulness and excitement, of anticipation, of a search for something wonderful. The song reminded Lux of her own search for freedom, and although her hunt had failed, she felt better for having this song in her hazy mind. She would have to remember the tune when the mageseekers returned her to Demacia - perhaps it would comfort her in her imprisonment.

“Save your songs for when we’re back in the air,” The leader of the hunt called up. “Let’s avoid attracting the attention of the locals. This strange place doesn’t sit well with me.”

“The song isn’t ours,” one of the petrel-winged mageseekers called back. “One of the locals may already be near.”

To Lux's dismay, the song trailed off. However, she had little time to mourn before an unseen voice said, “Oh, the local is near alright!"

The voice that echoed eerily around them as if it were flowing through every pipe and gutter in the vicinity, coming from everywhere, pinned down to nowhere. Lux could feel her captors’ grip on the net tighten as they turned their heads, searching for the source of the voice.

“Who goes there?” shouted the leader of the hunt. “Step into the light and state your name!”

“Hmmm…" The voice's hum thrummed through the rooftop, making Lux's feathers tremble. "Nah, I’m good.”

The leader of the hunt straightened his back, flaring his glossy, speckled starling-wings. His wings assumed a tense, half-furled position, partially on display, partially wound-up as if he intended to punch someone with his wing-joints. This was a show of threat. “This is no game, dark-dweller,” he warned. “By order of the Mageseekers of Demacia, reveal yourself!”

“Tell you what,” The voice replied, her tone far more playful than a response to a threat display ought to be. The voice had seemed to speak from atop the opposite building, but when it resumed speech a moment later, it resonated from under the walkway. “If you can answer a suuuper easy question, I’ll let ya get a good look at me, just like you asked for! How’s that sound, stranger?”

Lux could see the feathers lifting along the head hunter’s back as he cautiously eyed the metal panels beneath his feet. “I don’t entertain riddles.”

The voice laughed, and the laugh bounced all over the walls and rooftops, haunting in its pervasive presence. “my question isn't a riddle, silly!” she chuffed. “I just wanna know where the star fell!"

“… The star?” The lead hunter said slowly.

“The shooting star!” The voice became incredulous as she continued, “Even you dumb-dumbs had to have seen it! The light trail hit the fog just above here; it must’ve flown right by ya! C’mon, tell me where it went!”

Understanding filled the hunter’s face, and his mouth curled into a derisive scowl. “The light you saw is no concern of yours," he spat harshly. Tipping his head up to show of the condescending gleam in his eyes, he added in a magnanimous sneer, "Leave this place, and think of the light no more.”

“Awww, but I reeeally wanna have it,” The voice complained. Her petulance was almost childlike, if a child could make their voice resonate through the street as if their words were spoken by the shadows themselves. “If you tell me where it is, I might even let you live!”

At that ominous offer, the wings of all the surrounding mageseekers flared into threat displays. Most of those wings, well-trained over years of hunts, were stiff and steady. However, the youngest mageseekers’ wings were trembling. “Don’t test us, dark-dweller,” threatened the lead hunter. “Leave, and keep your life!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… Those are some fighty words for a bird out of their element. Didn’t anyone ever tell you…”

The voice vanished suddenly, echoes of it rustling like a dying wind over the metal walls of the buildings. More mageseeker wings began to tremble. The voice had been spooky, but the silence was somehow worse.

Then, there was a hiss, almost more feeling than sound, which seemed to slither straight up Lux’s spine.

“... There’s monsters in the dark,” the voice whispered, and, suddenly, she was right in front of Lux.

Wings spread wide open – no, not wings, but a giant, monstrous face, flashing out of the dark with wild, round eyes and neon fangs. The petrel-winged mageseekers on either side of Lux shrieked, leaping back. Light glinted over metal as something attached to their armor, and then…

BANG!

Twin bodies of fire fell, howling, from the roof.

The mageseekers below screamed, some in fright, others in fury. A few of them launched themselves toward Lux and the monster, but the terrible face twitched, then growled in staccato like gunfire and madness. The mageseekers fell. Others tried to fly away, but they fell too, blood blooming red over skin, clothes and feathers.

Lux watched them fall numbly. Did she feel numb because of the petricite in her bindings, or because her body didn’t know how to react to the sudden presence of a monster? Maybe it was both.

In time, all went quiet. The gunfire-growl ceased, and the mageseekers on the walkway were silent as the grave. Not knowing what else to do, Lux turned her glazed eyes to the face of the monster looming over her.

How strange. The face was folding – like wings.

As the neon feathers furled away, Lux saw the small woman who’d been tucked between the halves of the monster’s face. Her wings had been so eye-catching that Lux hadn’t noticed there was a person between them. Judging by the satisfied grin on the woman’s face, that had probably been by design.

“Well!” Releasing her minigun so that it pitched down on its strap and bounced against her hip, the woman clapped her hands in finality. She shook her head, sending a pair of long, blue braids swinging. Her vibrant, magenta eyes landed on Lux. “ You don’t look too cozy!”

Lux doubted she’d find mercy at the whims of the woman who’d just gunned down an entire dispatch of mageseekers, but she pleaded anyway in a frail, tired voice, “Please… I’m not with the people you killed. Could you please set me free?”

The woman tipped her head to the side. Lux didn't know what to make of the eerie smile on her face, if it was meant to be friendly or unsettling. “Depends,” she chirped. “I’m lookin’ for a shooting star. Did you see where it went?”

Lux had a bad feeling that, if she were to say no, she wouldn’t have long to live. “… I can take you to it,” she agreed, trying not to think too hard about what would happen when the woman realized that there was no star. “ Set me free, and I’ll show it to you. ”

A broad, excited grin swept over the woman’s face. “Alrighty! Fair warning – if you fly away, I’ll put a bullet in that pretty spine!”

Wincing, Lux nodded weakly. “Okay. I won’t run.”

As the woman procured a knife from one pocket and began sawing cheerfully through the net, Lux hesitantly inquired, “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need a shooting star for?”

“I heard they’re full of reeeally rare metals!” the woman announced eagerly. “Top-tier stuff! I’ve been itching to get my hands on star-metal and see if it’s any good for making explosives with. I mean, stars burn super hot when they fall, so star-metal's gotta pack some heat, right?”

“… That makes sense,” Lux tentatively agreed.

Damn it, this woman would be ticked off when she learned that there was no star.

“Those are some sleek wings,” the woman commented. Lux felt her prod a secondary as she pulled the net away. “What are you, some kind of falcon?”

“A kite,” Lux shared, her tone growing more sure as the net finally came off. Wings above, it felt amazing to have those petricite beads off! Euphoria trickled through Lux's veins as she stretched her strong, sleek wings out as far as they would go, showing off their backdrop of downy white and trimmings of smoky gray. As she stretched, warmth returned to the channels in her body through which magic flowed. She furled her wings back in gingerly, letting them rest at her back.

Eager to keep their conversation away from stars, Lux returned the woman's interest in wings. “Your wings… I’ve never seen anything like them. What type of bird has a neon face on its wings?”

“Ha!” The woman’s laugh resounded over the rooftop. “It’s paint," she announced proudly, extending her left wing. Lux was prepared for the monster's face this time and didn't flinch at the sight of a vivid eye and pointed teeth. "Feather-safe and glows in the dark. I made the stuff myself!”

“Wow!” Lux was genuinely curious now – that, and focusing on the woman’s artistry felt much better than focusing on her gun. “Decorating your wings? That’s a really cool idea!”

If possible, the woman’s grin grew even wider, preening under Lux's attention. “It is a good idea, right? You’d be surprised by how many people don’t get it! They all run away screaming; hardly anyone takes the time to admire ‘em!” The woman let her right wing join the left, showing off the entirety of her handiwork. “I just decorate the underwings, since those feathers are kinda boring and dusky. My back feathers, though…” She spun around, showing Lux the backs of her wings. “Look at ‘em! Cool, am I right?”

They were indeed cool, such an intense, vibrant blue that they rivaled the Demacian sky at noon. The woman's wings were interlaced with trimmings of black, white, and cyan, seeming iridescent in their vividness. To Lux, who's mind had been dredged in darkness ever since she'd fallen into this strange place, the feathers' beauty might as well have been hypnotic.

Lux forgot the red of her pursuers' spilt blood, and the red of her own highly-spillable blood as well, as her mind sunk into the enrapturing blue. Thoughtless, she trod closer, reaching out a hand. “They’re lovely,” she murmured as her fingers gently traced the shaft of a long, vibrant feather.

Lux was so enthralled by the woman’s wings that it took her several moments to realize that she'd overstepped.

Oh, shit. Had she really just touched a complete stranger’s feathers, uninvited? A stranger with a taste for murder, no less? Mind, this woman had some of the loveliest feathers Lux had ever seen…

… But now was not the time for the bird-side of Lux’s brain to start showing interest in a stranger's feather display!

Lux forced herself to step back, tucking her hand to her chest as a wave of mortified embarrassment swept through her. “Um… Yeah,” she choked out, shifting her weight awkwardly between her feet. “You have really nice feathers.”

At some point, the woman had turned her head to watch Lux over her shoulder, her back still facing Lux. The woman's feathers trembled slightly, as if ruffled by a breeze, and there appeared to be a faint blush of pink on her cheeks. The woman turned to face Lux, furling her wings back in, then cleared her throat. “ Uh … Aaanyway!” Her fingers twitched restlessly at her sides before she shoved her thumbs into her shorts-pockets. “You owe me a shooting star! Lead the way, kite!”

Lux’s spirits plummeted.

Right. The star.

“… Very well," she acceded as a sour, sick kernel of dread formed in her gut. "Just… Don’t freak out, please?”

Jinx tilted her head to the side. “ Freak out? About what?”

Lux bit her lip… Then, she spread her wings out as far as they would go, letting her feathers puff out.

The woman noticed that this was a display pose rather than a takeoff pose. Had the color in her cheeks darkened? “Hey, uh…” The woman stammered. “Just ‘cause I gave you a good look at my super-awesome wings doesn’t mean you've gotta…”

Lux pushed her magic into her wings, heat rushing through her as her light shimmered to life.

The woman’s eyes went wide. Lux could see her light reflecting in them, brightening the magenta irises even as her pupils went wide.

“Woah.”

Now, the woman was the one stepping forward, arm outstretched. Lux didn’t stop her as she pressed a thin-fingered hand into Lux’s pale underwing, and didn’t push her away even though the woman’s twitching fingers were a bit ticklish. “Shiny,” the woman murmured, her eyes not leaving the luminous feathers. “I thought angels were just a myth.”

A warm blush rushed to Lux’s cheeks. “I’m not an angel,” she said quickly, “just a mage. A light mage.”

The woman’s hand trailed down over Lux’s shining feathers. “You look pretty angelic to me. A light kite, huh? A bright-light-kite...”

Unlike Lux, the woman didn’t awkwardly pull her hand back after moments of staring. When she raised her gaze back to Lux’s, her hand was still pressed tenderly to Lux’s wing.

“I’m guessing you're the star, then,” she said.

Lux dipped her head sheepishly. “I’m sorry I can’t give you the metal you’re looking for. You seemed really excited about it.”

“Aw, it’s fine… I bet another star’s gonna roll through eventually,” the woman deflected. “It’s just a matter of time before I get my hands on some star-metal! So... where are you off to, now that you’re out of that net?”

It sounded like the woman wasn’t interested in killing her, which was nice. It was, admittedly, also nice to be near someone who didn’t look at her magic-filled wings with disgust - who was willing to touch her, even. “I don’t suppose you could recommend a place for a newcomer to find shelter?” Lux asked hopefully. “Those people you… took care of… chased me here. I’ve never traveled this far before, and I don’t know where to find a place to spend the night.”

The woman’s eyes brightened. “You know what? Seeing as how I freed you and all, I feel kinda responsible for you. Why don’t you come stay at my digs for a while?”

“Really? You’d let me stay with you?” Lux was caught off guard by the woman’s boldness. “You barely know me.”

“Well then, this’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better!” She spread her arms, gesturing to the darkness around them. “What do you say, Light-Kite? Feelin’ up to spending the night with one of the monsters in the dark?”

A strange, fizzy sensation bubbled in Lux's chest.

Be careful, warned the logical side of her brain. She set you free, but she's a killer.

Go for it, encouraged her bird side. Such nice feathers... Pretty bird... Pretty bird...

It took a massive effort for Lux to keep her cheeks from heating like the sun.

Well... Seeing as how she didn’t have any other options, she supposed that she might as well spend the night with the killer who seemed refreshingly fond of her illuminated wings. This was preferable to a night on the street, right?

Lux took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “Lead the way,” she accepted. “By the way, it’s Lux, not Light-Kite.”

“And I’m Jinx! Jinx the Jay! The Mad Bomber! The Loose Cannon of Zaun!” Grabbing Lux’s hand, Jinx tugged her across the roof, away from the streetlight’s yellow gleam. “Welcome to the shadows, Lux the Light-Kite!”

As they dashed into the darkness, Jinx hummed a song of excitement and discovery...

... And Lux, feeling her spirits lift, joined in.

#lightcannon #lightcannon week #lightcannonweek #arcane jinx #arcane fanfic #fanfic #luxanna crownguard #jinx arcane #lol jinx #jinx #arcane

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gaysonlyocean · 2 years ago

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YIPPEE I GET TO SHARE!! its going under the cut cause its gonna be long :] gonna include descriptions of the three who do have refs cause its easier

thatcher - blue long sleeve button up, old tank top underneath to stay warm, thick brown winter coat with wool collar, brown trousers and brown boots, he still has his old uniform its just been demoted to just being a rag by now, his hair isnt bleached anymore but he did try and now its all frizzy and damaged and parts of it dont move in the wind anymore even though all the attempts are long gone cause he had to just cut off the melted parts that went lighter, his septum is pierced he just doesnt have anything to go in it, he has a number of scars from over the years but notable has one one his forehead and the back of his neck from outbreak day!

ruth - dark brown tank and a beige jacket over, dark blue bandana that gets used for everything but primarily sits around her neck, black trousers that stay tucked into her boots, she keeps her hair half up half down and its got loose curls, more scars on her than on thatcher and primarily on her hands, also like thatcher her ears are pierced its just she doesnt have earrings to go in them

adam - zip up black hoodie thats got the ends of the sleeves picked at until theyre just loose threads, brown fingerless gloves that are too big, equally too big red button up he says is enough to work as a coat, white tshirt underhear, on his right wrist is a lil bead bracelet with a rusty metal 'A' initial, mildly torn blue jeans and black converse, he has freckles cause if i ever make a adam design that doesnt have freckles its not me, hairs a bit of a rough chop but its only really noticable when its wet, has several small scars from being a rebellious kid who sneaks out where he shouldnt

jonah - shoulder length curly black hair, one of those sweater with those lil zips at the colour and its dark blue, thick green coat one of those that are loud when you move in them, beige hiking trousers and blue velcro shoes, he had a matching bead bracelet on his left wrist with a rusty metal 'J' attached, he also had a few scars from joining adam on his troublemaking

mark - zip up hoodie and a batman shirt underneath, blue jeans and red velcro sneakers, his hair longer than in canon and he had like a baby mullet when he died

cesar - long scars all over the left side of his body and face, curly hair kept in a short ponytail so its off his face, at least three thick layers of clothing at all times which usually include a thick black winter coat, a thinner red coat and a shirt, black jeans that hes sewn both back together and to have kneepads, steel toe boots that hes had to trade alot for, thick fireproof gloves

joel - wavy hair that he SHOULD tie back but wont even though its past his shoulder blades, a lot of fuzz on his face but not Technically a beard cause its not growing enough to count, single black left glove, old damaged body warmer, long sleeve thick woolen shirt, really dusty light blue jeans, grey sneakers, he has his glasses but the lenses are cracked

dave - rough chop mullet, he still has his mustache its jsut the rest is kinda growing in and he should probably shave soon, wears flannels still!! has a black leather jacket for when its cold but goes without it most the time, keeps his left sleeve rolled up so the fabric doesnt irritate the burns, lost most of his left hand to a explosion but still has his thumb, dark green trousers and black boots, had to forego the sunglasses sadly

sarah - hair cut to just under her ears, large number of scars from over the years, moles like mark and dave, keeps a shotgun on her person at all times, brown leather jacket, light green faded hoodie, light brown trousers and black boots, dark brown leather gloves

evelin - keeps her hair in a loose braid, one of those long sleeve shirts with thumb holes and its black, thin purple jacket over that and then a thick green woolen body warmer over that, black skinny jeans that are badly stained, black boots

o'brien - shoulder length blond hair and short beard, red thick coat over a red flannel and white shirt, really dark blue trousers, brown boots, light green eyes that look really tired

sid (six) - short and greasy black hair, his right side of his face is badly scarred from the gunshot that nearly killed him and took his eye, remaining eye is hazel, black tshirt, giant fuckign eyebags, damaged dark grey jeans, he has a black jacket but leaves it tied around his waist, heavy duty black boots

penelope (preacher) - really deep cheeks that make her look really really tired, long dark brown hair thats held back by a rag tied around her head, light desaturated purple short sleeve shirt, black trenchcoat, deep set grey doe eyes, grey trousers, black sneakers

gabriel - long grey hair kept in a ponytail, deep hypertrophic scars on his cheeks from a glasgow smile, his hands are the only other place scars can be seen on, dark blue eyes, black boots and black trousers that have seen better days with the stains on them, dirty and bloodstained grey button up, unnervingly clean white labcoat with only a few dirt stains near the bottom of it

have you come up w more stuff for your tlou au? ik youve been hyperfocussing a lot on ogtbh but i just wanted to ask 👀

ive been thinking about scenes mostly for it! nothing all that new BUT

in my head i do have everyones designs set in stone, i just dont have the energy to draw them rn yknow? i can share details if you like?

#HOPE YOU ENJOY #tmc tlou au #THANK YOUUUU

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peace-for-levi · 2 years ago

Text

Welcome Back

lol hiiiii, sorta haven't written in *checks watch* eight months so i am RUSTY.

cw: feelings of grief, graphic descriptions of dissociation, reader feeling disconnected and needing to be grounded. post-expedition hurt-comfort is my fav genre, lol.

word count: 1447.

taglist: @levmada @jayteacups @happybird16 @theferricfox @sckerman @wortverlust @lostinwildflowers @pockcock @nelapanela94 @notgoodforlife @unadulteratedtreecrusade @starstruckkittensweets

Arms up. Arms down.

Grief anchors and weighs you down like a ball and chain. It's heavy, cumbersome and you are left to just bear the brunt of it. It has a way of removing you from the world, leaving you unable (even unwilling) to reconnect. The most recent expedition and the deaths that came with it weigh down on your shoulders. You lean over, back hunched. Neck tense.

Distantly, you recognise what it is you are feeling (or lack of.) Distantly, you recognise the expedition has probably sent you into this state.

Your vision is 'stretched', or distorted, and everything has a dull fuzz to it. You're sure if you reached to grab the book on your bedside locker, it would slip through your fingers and melt away.

And that you'd wake up from this.

You form a fist and relax it, stretching your fingers. Lines on your fingers; oh, five fingers, all with fingernails. Five sets of knuckles. These are your hands? Surely, right?

You form a fist and this time you squeeze, and you almost feel your nails sink in. Just slightly but it's enough for you to shudder. In realization? In pain?

It's not unusual for your mind to be stuck out in the plains beyond the Walls. The boom and echo of flares rattles in your ears, the screams of your comrades leaves your head spinning. The idea of being back in your bedroom is just something you haven't registered yet, too busy stuck somewhere between a nightmare and reality.

A fake, shadowy middle of unreality.

It's nauseating, harrowing. If not for your feet pressed to the floor and your calves backed to the edge of the bed frame, you'd have a hard time trusting gravity in keeping you down.

There's a voice in the foreground, but you're not quite there yet. Their speech is fragmented.

You cling to reason; to routine and actions. You try to cling to dialogue and even though you understand the words, they don't get processed. You try to attune to the conversation, however one-way it is.

"Your shoulders tense up when you get like this. Relax."

Shoulders… ah, your shoulders? So you roll them. You don't really know what else to do. Tense? Why are you tense and what–

…

What are you…?

Where…?

Levi senses he's losing you further here, so he gives you an order. A command; you can latch onto that. It'll give your brain something to do, long enough to take you away from the plains.

"Legs out. I'll undo your buckles," he says as he kneels between your legs.

Leg up, straighten, leg down.

Same idea again for your left.

The frigid air against your – now – bare skin makes you shiver. Your clothes are being taken off, piece by piece.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Do you know…?" is a question that he noticed that also makes you come back to your senses. He has asked a question that requires a logical answer; you need to go searching for clues.

You know it's your bedroom – what else could it possibly be? – but it just looks so… wrong. In a moment of faint realization, you feel the night's gentle breeze prick the skin on your legs. You turn to the bedside locker and see a bowl of lumpy, congealed soup with a bread roll that looks like it's on the verge of going bad. You must have forgotten to eat it. There's an oil lamp next to the soup, as well as an old book. Reading is a bit too hard at the moment; you can hardly put together the title of the book.

Now you look in front of you. Of course the black hair and grey eyes belong to your lover, but he didn't look so real right now. If you reached out to touch him, would you feel the black tresses spill between your fingers? The war-torn hands clasp your own?

You sink your fingertips into his scalp. He lets it happen, lets you cling to him. He doesn't even flinch, he knows you need grounding. He brings a hand up and rests it on yours, as if to say…

Feel me.

I am alive. You are alive. We are both here, and you will not wake up from this.

(Your brain just needs a lot of convincing.)

He squeezes his hand over yours. "You're getting ready for a bath, I'm helping you," he states. More information to cling to. "Whatever you're feeling, let it be there."

He is slowly walking you to your ensuite. The ground beneath your feet felt soft, even for oak planks. You fumble as you walk, second-guessing your surroundings, but Levi's got you.

He's always there.

The boundaries of the room appear elusive and murky, as you reach out for the skirting on the sides of the bathroom door. Levi was smart and had the bath ready to go, warm water prepped. With a cupped palm, he gently guides you into the bath.

"Step in."

A command to follow.

Leg up, over, and sit.

You soak into the heated water and sit down. You vaguely feel the suds cling to you. The aware part of you hopes they'll wash away the muddy feeling.

Levi begins to fill up a bucket of the sudsy water. He takes a look at your toned back, marred with grime, dirt and caked blood, and stops. He thumbs over some of the rougher sores and tears; some of these scars have been there for years. Shades of purples and blacks and reds, dotting the surface; all serving as a horrific reminder that, so far, you have made it back home every time.

You watch the dirt drip down and swirl in the water, floating there.

Silence permeates between the two of you, and normally, it is a comfortable silence. But Levi wanted to check in.

"How are you doing now, [F/n]?"

Blink. You stare back at him with pupils blown, looking at everything and nothing. "Fine."

"Do you know who I am?" He asks, carefully, scrubbing your shoulders.

Black hair, grey eyes. "Levi…" you murmur.

He nods. Should he press further? He's not sure.

Dissociation is a fickle defense mechanism with a hair-trigger temperament. It can be the deaths of the comrades in your most recent expedition; it could also be triggered by the smell or sound that reminds you of something unpleasant. It sometimes comes when it wants and Levi learned the best way to deal with it was to not deal with it. To let it happen, and sit beside you as it does.

"Don't fight it. Let it be there."

But you don't want it to be there. You stretch out your palm and reach for the towel, but you just hold it. Maybe for comfort, maybe to feel a texture. You register the caked blood by your cuticles and you keep it in your mind's eye for a second, but your vision starts to splinter again.

"But it feels awful…" you find yourself saying. "I hate not recognising my surroundings, I hate not–"

He cuts in. "I know, sweetheart. I know." He takes hold of your hand and squeezes. "I know." He assures.

Because he does.

He's sat with you through every episode of this.

He guides you out of the bath when you're done, and dresses you in your nightgown. He sweeps your hair up and out of your face, before cupping your cheeks. You practically fall into his hands. He pats your cheek in response.

"You back with me yet?"

You shake your head, but your answers are coming out quicker now. He steers you with one hand on the small of your back and peels back the comforter.

As the room gets shrouded in darkness, you're pulled to his chest. A smell of cedar and black tea, the thrum of his pulse and the rise and fall of his chest. Small circles being etched into your hips by his thumb.

"We're going to try to rest now." He tells you.

A command of sorts, something to stick to.

Get in bed, lie down, and breathe.

"Yes, okay," you mumble as you twiddle your thumbs. "Okay."

He pulls you impossibly closer, nose in the crook of your neck and suddenly... you're in the clear.

"I'm [F/n]. I'm in my room. I'm with Levi…" you whisper to yourself, with confidence.

"Welcome back," your lover sleepily replies.

{friendly reminder acceptance doesn't work for everyone but it is a healthy start for some!}

#cece; speaks #levi x reader #husbando tag<3 #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #aot #snk #aot levi #snk levi #levi x you #tw.dissociation #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

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rotten-games · 4 years ago

Text

City of Immortals RO List

Okay so here it is, the list of ROs like I promised. Both mc's have their own pool of love interests to choose from with little overlap.

Here you’ll get a description of the ROs and some information on how the mc or others might view them. Also some info on the mc’s.

Mc1

Born to be a soldier by design, they were afflicted with immortality and stopped aging entirely once they hit thirty. A side effect—or perhaps a feature—is the beast that all but lives inside them, taking control when they feel incredibly strong emotions, though most often when anger is present. Where once they held full control of it, of the transformation they go through, now they must wrestle with its control with each passing day.

You are what’s called a Hunter. Every settlement has them, but Eden has the most. Caroline controls all her hunters from Eden, though ‘Hunter’ may be a bit of an oversimplification of the job description. Yes, one of their main jobs is providing food and other resources for the settlement, but they’re also bounty hunters, keepers of the peace, and are also often recruited for odd jobs when they have no contracts to fill. Perhaps the most important rule in Hunting, is that you always work in pairs.

Caroline: She/her

The best way to describe Carol is ‘short’, with a pair of unblinking amber eyes and a wind-buffeted, naturally tanned complexion. Her russet curls, while usually out of her face, never seem to stay tied back for long, a seemingly constant slew of curls sticking to her forehead. A jagged scar cuts across the knuckles on her right hand.

Caroline is unrelenting. She knows what her settlement needs and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it—to save the lives of those she must oversee she is willing to do anything. Within reason. Truthfully, Caroline never asked to be made the leader of Eden, the job just sort of fell into her lap one day and no one bothered to take it from her. You’ve worked for her for years by the start of chapter one, and if you’ve learned anything about her it’s that she doesn’t do smalltalk. She’s been in a relationship with Lowrie for years now, and as far as you can tell, they’re very happy with one another.

Lowrie: non-binary, they/them pronouns

Impossibly tall and scrawny, Lowrie’s skin is constantly burned red by the sun, seemingly unable to tan no matter what they do. Their face is long, with ash-coloured, shoulder-length hair that would usually hide their grey eyes but is otherwise kept out of their face with a blue-patterned scarf.

Some have called Lowrie stuck up in the past for their less than talkative nature but that would be an oversimplification. In truth, they just aren’t fond of talking—which is probably why they get on with Harley so well—and more shy than anything else. One of Eden’s finest Hunters, they spend most of their time in the sweltering heat of Wasteland bringing bandits in and shooting any of the mangy beasts that stray too close to Eden. The rest of their time is spent managing the bar with Caroline and Harley, tending to keep to themself. You’ve worked with Lowrie in the past, and as far as you can tell there’s little love lost between the two of you.

Carol + Lowrie poly:

Caroline and Lowrie are poly and in a committed relationship with one another. They will not leave one another for monogamy with mc, however, you don’t have to be in a throuple with them—though that’s definitely on the table—you can simply be with one, who is with both you and the other. Lowrie is also currently casually seeing Harley. Carol is not seeing anyone else.

Mordred: he/him.

With a seemingly constant fuzz along his jaw, and a never-ending supply of little scars littering his warm olive skin, his hair tends to cover everything but his yellow eyes and the deep bags underneath. His hair is typically tied into a loose bun at the back of his head, mostly obscuring his pierced, slightly pointed ears.

Mordred is a hot-headed, easily irritated young man who’s been by your side since day one. You dragged yourselves out of the crumbling ruins of Ledala together, you fought together, and now you work together as Hunters. Partner’s in crime doesn’t quite cover your relationship but it’s certainly close. In recent years, however, your relationship has strained—perhaps it’s due to past mistakes getting in the way, or past feelings, but either way at the start of the book he’s nowhere to be found.

At the start of the game you can determine just what your relationship is with him—it’s strained at this point but the reasons why are totally up to you. He can also potentially have been an old flame of MC2.

Ridley: Gender variable

Ridley is an energetic person with a pair of bright green eyes constantly sparkling with a glint of adventure. Despite their heavily-muscled frame, they seem to constantly be hiding behind their oversized glasses, a veil of their shaggy red hair, and a slouch that makes them out to be much smaller than they are.

Ridley is… an enigma. While technically a Hunter, they seem much more interested in the pursuits of science and research than holding off rabid beasts with nothing but a gun that’s falling apart and a rusty sword. Of course, they can hold their own well enough, but when they’re meant to be spending their time training or helping out—and indeed, even on their time off—they’re usually found traipsing around in the desert looking for… who knows what.

Doc: She/her

Doc is stocky and sharp-jawed, dark brown, almost black eyes always watching. Her dense curls are shoulder-length and appear twisted together and held back behind her head. The tip of her left ear appears to have been torn off somehow.

Not known for her bedside manner, Doc travels between settlements to tend to the sick, injured, and broken, and though none can particularly vouch for her interpersonal skills (though who can say anyone has particularly good ones, these days?), they can certainly do so for her medicinal accomplishments. Some think her a wandering ghost, aiding those who need help to make up for the sins of her past, others simply see her as a woman seeking to do her part for the good of Wasteland, regardless, if you get on her bad side she’s been known to be liberal with her gun. Or so the rumors say.

J. Allard: Gender variable

Allard is a nervous-looking, shifty individual with short but messy brown hair flecked with grey. Constantly fidgeting with the ring on their thumb, their stutter becomes more obvious the more nervous they are. Though their eyes hide behind a pair of darkened glasses, a pallid face a week out from its last wash they are, completely, honest. Trust me.

J. Allard is a totally normal priest. There is nothing strange about them, they simply want what is best for you and your companions.

Mc2

Dragged down into the depths of the earth on the day Ledala fell, you never knew of the city beneath the surface. Your sibling died that day, you’re sure of it, and a part of you died with them—the beast no longer responds to your call and you’re still left injured from whatever afflicted you and your comrades that day. The man who saved you set you to work for him—sorry, with him—and now you walk perpetually in the darkness of a city long since forgotten by the sun, with people named after the remnants of an old world you never knew existed. You were never meant to survive that night, and every day the world around you reminds you of that.

Arthur: he/him

Arthur doesn’t look quite there half the time. His skin is translucent, his pale blue eyes impossibly far away, platinum blond hair little more than wispy strands atop his head. Most of his body is otherwise covered completely by that old, brown coat of his. There’s light freckling across his nose.

Arthur saved you that night. A Private Investigator by trade, he brought you on to work together because you had no where else to go. Maybe because of it you should be closer than you are but there’s always been a distance between you he’s been unwilling to cross. Either way, despite working together—living together—he keeps to himself and you try to keep to yourself in turn. Still, you can’t help but notice the disdain he has for the City Council and their lackeys.

Perci: she/her

Perci is constantly smiling. Relaxed of posture, her straight hair once ashy brown is now dyed silver. It’s cut short at the sides and back, creating an undercut, most of her fringe tucked behind her ears to reveal a pair of dark brown, monolid eyes. She seems allergic to sleeves, taking whatever chance she gets to show off her cybernetic arm and the colourful tattoos that adorn her flesh arm.

A friend of Arthur who sometimes helps with investigations. She’s friendlier than he is with you, even inviting you out on occasion, but rebellion is on her lips more and more nowadays, and she isn’t subtle about it. You haven’t seen her in quite a while—as far as you can tell she and Arthur aren’t on speaking terms anymore after that big fight they had a few months back. As far as you can tell, she’s moved on and you certainly wouldn’t blame her if she has Council dogs on her heels.

Saga: Saga is always the same gender as your mc is.

Saga’s hair is a deep blue in colour, their black roots just barely growing through. Half of their head is shaved, the other half left chest-length and braided over their shoulder. Though their entire body seems to interwoven with tech, what is perhaps most interesting about them is the angular tattoo that crawls down the right side of their face. This is probably why they come to you completely covered in muck and baggy clothing.

Saga shows up at your door with a different name and a job. You aren’t given why, only the how, only the what. They’re stubborn and flighty in equal measure, suspicious of everyone around them including yourself. Oh, they dress the part of a street rat well, but the cash they have just on hand is nothing to blink at and, underneath all that grime, their skin is perfectly unmarred by the ravages of time.

Deimos: he/him, gay

Whether or not Deimos’ strength is his own or from borrowed, military-grade tech is anyone’s guess, but no one’s ever bothered to ask. Though he’s tall, he isn’t necessarily as muscular as the fear he commands would suggest. His eyes glow orange, black hair trimmed but not maintained, and his grin is enough to stop anyone in their tracks. For whatever reason, he always wears warm clothes.

Deimos is a Council dog who’s been hounding Arthur for a few years now. You’ve never officially met him; somehow whenever he drops into the office you always manage to be out. Whether that’s coincidence or because Arthur sends you out on errands very conveniently at those times it’s not for you to say. Somehow, he never seems to do too much damage to your colleague.

Adrastea: Non-binary, they/them or she/her pronouns, only attracted to nb or female mc’s

Adrastea has been voted the city’s most attractive person many years in a row now. Everything about them is perfect; perfect smile, perfect blue eyes, perfect cascading coils of iridescent hair, yet somehow despite their well-calculated appearance it’s like there’s a tiger waiting to pounce on any wary admirer who comes too close.

While not a member of the council they hold great sway simply by virtue of their age and the fact they’re so beloved by the populace. You’ve seen them on the holos, how they’re oh, so giving to the needy and even invite the commonfolk to their lavish parties all the important council members attend. It’s an act, it has to be; through their gorgeous smile and all those sheer dresses they seek nothing if not attention. A lot of their history is shrouded and deleted from public record, but you do know that they were once a head scientist that took part in the very same project that supposedly made you what you are today.

Dagda: gender variable

Dagda is the perfectly attractive face everyone sees on their screens every night. In a world of cybernetic bodies and unnaturally bright lights, they are the one person who almost looks... natural. With a perfectly cultivated appearance of salt and pepper hair, soulful brown eyes, and that winning smile, nothing about them is their own; everything they do exactly what everyone else tells them to do.

The mouthpiece of the Council, Dagda is seen to be charming and down to earth in the vids. They say Ledala is prospering more than it has in decades, that the crime rates are lowering thanks to the wonderful work they and their colleagues on the Council are doing. Of course, there always has been a certain emptiness behind their eyes. When the camera isn’t rolling, you wonder what they really think.

#lore #coi game

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anti-plexus · 4 years ago

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Get Up (Clockwork x Reader)   WARNING: This story is my own AU. I know many of you like Slenderman, but in this AU, Slenderman is bad and Zalgo is good. I just wanted to see what it would be like to write about the Creepypastas as the “bad guys.”   —————

————   BANG!   Your gun fell to the ground, softly landing on the snow.   Your breathing fanned out in clouds of white as you stood in the frigid forest. Clockwork patted your shoulder comfortingly, which was exceeding rare for her.   “Clock…” You whispered.   “Hey,” She grabbed your shoulders, swinging you around to meet her green eye and scarred mouth. “I know you didn’t want to, but this is your- no, this is OUR life now.”   “I know…” You answered, sneaking a glance at the body behind you. “But isn’t there more to life than killing?”   Clockwork looked at you seriously. “Not since we became pastas. Killing is our life.”   “But at what cost? We both know that the police will kill us if Slender doesn’t first.”   “You know I won’t let them do that to us, either of them.” Clockwork reassured you, even though the look in her faded green eye told you otherwise.   You could see that she was scared, it was as clear as day to you. Seeing a normally fearless Clockwork struggle to hide her fear broke your nonexistent heart. “Hey hey, it’s ok,” You reassured her. “We finished the mission, so let’s go back to Slenderbitch’s Mansion and get this over with.”   “You’re right,” Clockwork nodded. “But I don’t want to go back to that… that place.”   You knew she was talking about the Slender Mansion, a horrid house full of torture chambers and never-ending screams. You and Clockwork lived together in a rusty cabin about a mile or so from the mansion, making it easier for Slenderbitch to call upon both of you for missions. Most of the missions only included killing one or two people, but this particular mission was centered around killing a child. A child.   Clockwork watched as you scooped up the dead child’s body. “(Y/n)? What are you doing?”   Your voice rang out through the frosty trees, full of firm resolve. “This kid did not deserve to die. I’m going to bury him like a normal person.”   You could almost hear how badly Clockwork wanted to say, “You’re far from normal.” But she kept silent and followed your lead as you walked in the direction of the cabin.   You silently began to bury the body, feeling sad as the kid’s body disappeared beneath the dirt.   “I’m not sure why you’re doing this. It’s stupid and childish.” Clockwork commented as you finished burying the body.   “So? Aren’t we still children?”   “Bitch, I’m twenty-four.” Clockwork deadpanned.   “Still. Twenty-four ain’t that old, plus, I’m only nineteen. I’ve only been an adult for a year.”   “Fuck your half-assed logic.” You knew you had won. Again.   We’re all kids-   “Don’t you want to be a kid again?” You asked as you pushed the cabin door open. “I mean, wasn’t being a kid fun for you?”   Clockwork ignored you, finally having enough with your sentimental bullshit. “I’m going to my room,” She informed you before the corners of her lips twitched up. “Girls night is still on, right?”   This was her way of making amends and you accepted it with open arms. “Hell yeah, every night is girl's night!”   Clockwork retreated up the stairs to her room, shutting the door behind her. You knew she had a stash of cigs and alcohol in there so it didn’t surprise you when the smell of cigarette smoke began to drift downstairs where you resided. Smoking was a common pastime of yours, yet the smoke still managed to bother you. You coughed as you inhaled a breath of the foul-smelling smoke.   “Damn it, Clock…” You mumbled, internally cursing her smoking habit even though you had the same problem.   You dirty hypocrite-   You strolled to the living room, where the smoke was less potent. A half-open book lay on the coffee table. Before I let go, it was called.   Well, I got nothing else to do, You thought, picking up the book and flipping to the first page. Upon reading more, you managed to piece together the plot of the story and

it was surprisingly good. No wonder Clockwork liked it.   Time flew as you read, and you heard Clockwork’s footsteps in the kitchen. “(Y/n)?”   You forcibly put the book down. “Hm?”   “It’s seven. You ready?” Clockwork’s brown-haired head peeked out from the kitchen doorway, her green eye staring deep into your soul.   You gingerly stood up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen, where several bottles of liquor lay unopened on the counter.   You grabbed a bottle without hesitation, breaking the seal and taking a long gulp of the burning liquid. “Fuck, I missed this so much.”   “Me too, bitch.” Clock responded, grabbing another bottle and nearly downing it. You hiccuped slightly as you took another gulp, feeling your body begin to relax and your mind fuzz over.   You yelped as Clockwork proceeded to finish her bottle, slamming it on the ground with a drunken screech. “Holy shit, Clock!”   “Woooo! Fuck this SHIT, I’m going OUT toNight!” Clockwork cheered, drunkenly hooking her arm around your shoulders.   Fortunately, you recognized that that was a horrible idea. “Wait, Clock, you’re drunk.”   “sO? I’mma get waaaaaasted.” She slurred.   You deadpanned. “Bitch, you’re already wasted.”   “NO!” Clockwork screamed. “I’MMA GROWN WOMAN! FUCK YOU, SATAN!!”   “I'm not Satan, you loony bitch-“   Then she tackled you. She fucking tackled you.   *The Next Morning*   It was a beautiful morning, if beautiful mornings translated to having the biggest hangover ever. You slowly sat up from your spot on the floor.   What in tarnation happened- Oh, never mind… You thought as you surveyed the living room. You spotted Clockwork laying a few feet from you, still passed out. You moved to stand up, pushing an empty bottle out of your way.   The kitchen was a mess. Empty bottles of alcohol lay smashed on the floor, the shattered pieces glinting at you. You sighed heavily.   What a horrible morning…   After drinking a glass of water and filling one up for Clockwork, you proceeded to re-enter the living room, plopping down on the couch. You heard someone shift and realized that Clockwork was waking up.   “Ugh..” Clockwork groaned, reaching up to rub her aching head. “What the fuck happened?”   “Welcome back,” You sarcastically greeted Clockwork, handing her a glass of water. “How did you sleep?”   “Fucking terrible,” Clockwork complained, taking the water and drinking it in one gulp. “This hangover is killing me.”   “Join the club.” You answered in a slightly salty tone.   Suddenly, Clockwork started laughing, but it wasn’t a normal laugh, maybe the hangover was getting to her…   You immediately stiffened when you saw a tear drop out of Clockwork’s good eye.   “Clock?! Are you ok?!”   Wet sobs emanated from Clockwork’s mouth as she grabbed onto you and buried her face into your neck. You almost didn’t believe your ears and eyes, why was Clock crying?   “Clockwork... Why are you crying?”   “Natalie.”   “What?”   Clockwork unburied her face from your neck, her one green eye bright and wet. “Call me Natalie, please.”   “I-I thought you hated that name.” You stuttered, completely at loss as to why she was asking you to call her by the name she despised.   “I do…” Clockwork hiccuped. “But I want to be Natalie one last time, take me back, (Y/n). I want to be a kid again, even if it’s only for a few seconds.”   You couldn’t tell if Clockwork was still drunk or not, but it sure seemed that way. She hated the name “Natalie” with a burning passion. You didn’t know what happened to her, but it must have been bad, considering her eye and mouth. There were too many secrets here, in you and Clock’s unlikely friendship. She had found you robbing a store and watched as you burnt it to the ground with a lime green lighter. You could still hear the first words she said to you, “You’re coming with me, kid.”   And just like that, your life changed. Now you were a loyal (more like disloyal) pasta of Slenderman. You killed for him, listened to him, heck, you even trusted him. He just seemed so nice and inviting, until he tried to kill you. The

only reason you survived was because Clockwork stepped in, saying she would “teach you to be a better slave.”   She never did.   She lied to him, the almighty Slenderman, for you.   Now you could repay her, by comforting her at her worst.   “Shh, it’s ok,” You gently patted Clockwork’s back. “Natalie.”   “Thanks, bitch.” Clockwork sighed as she finally took a deep breath and wiped her tear-stained cheeks.   “Why… Why were you crying?” You asked hesitantly.   “I don’t know, probably just the air.” She reassured you, yet you knew it was a big, fat lie.   But that’s a problem for another day, you thought wearily. For now, you just wanted to stay with Clock- No, Natalie. You wanted to stay with Natalie, not Clockwork. Clockwork was just a persona, a wall protecting Natalie, the real thing. The only problem was that Natalie was faded, and she hated her own identity, especially her name. It doesn’t matter, she’s still my Clock. Your life sucked sometimes, but being with Natalie made it so much better. She gave you a reason to live, to enjoy life. And you were going to live to the fullest extent. Just for her.

—————

I'm sorry if the beginning didn't make much sense, but it is 2:35 am currently. :)

Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this. Have an awesome day! 👍👍

#creepypasta #creepypasta au #creepypasta fanfiction #clockwork #death mention #profanity #sad but sweet #sad but beautiful #clockwork x reader

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pekorosu · 5 years ago

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just a lil “if ash lived” headcanon that i need to unload somewhere bc i've been holding it in for a long time

- set within the manga ‘verse

- takes place when ash and eiji are in their early 30s... so around the mid 1990s?

- i don’t get the weird animanga trope where older = longer hair, so they’re gonna look the same... maybe with slightly shorter hair bc they get regular haircuts now

- (note: i've always interpreted long-haired eiji as symbolic of the fact that he couldn't move on from ash’s death)

- ash and eiji will continue living in the states, idk if still in NYC or somewhere else. they’ll move around a lot though.

- ash will mostly remain underground as he had to fake his death after lao’s stab, but he does it in a "hiding in plain sight" kind of way. only a handful of people know he’s still alive.

- ash spends most of his time on the computer, mostly coding, hacking, being a nerd, among other fun stuff.

- he also takes on “jobs” anonymously, and occasionally from max (who’s still into investigative journalism) when he needs info that can only be obtained through Dubious Means.

- i also like to think that ash's a bit of a hacker robin hood lol. but he isn’t doing it purely out of the goodness of his heart, as part of it is a subconscious need to atone for his “sins” and cleanse the gnawing and persistent feeling of shame that gets amplified when he’s around eiji.

- also whatever he’s up to these days would ofc still be Highly Dangerous and Illegal, but it keeps him busy and would sate the part of him that’s still hungry for adrenaline without him having to engage in stuff like active bloodshed or substance abuse. basically that’s how i imagine he’d try to cope with life the only way he knows.

- eiji continues to do photography and other part time gigs bc he does not like the idea of mooching off ash forever, and he slowly makes a name for himself.

- ash and eiji live together but they are NOT together in a romantic sense... not yet >:)

- therefore eiji will probably date other people in the meantime, which gets a little troublesome bc it's not like he can bring them home to where his secret Very Important Friend is secretly hiding.

- ash will maybe have one-night stands every now and then. or not. idk. this isn’t a very important detail.

- anyway there will be lots of clueless but mutual pining :)

- ash especially, is of the opinion that they should start living separately bc someone will eventually track him down, maybe someone who has a past or present grudge on him. combined with his current activities, it’s only a matter of time before eiji would unwittingly get dragged into his problems again.

- eiji is v adamantly against that plan bc he's sorta developed a debilitating sense of paranoia that ash might just get killed somewhere while he’s not looking. not that ash isn’t paranoid either, but his insecurities often tip the scale over to “eiji is safer away from me” than “with me”.

- basically they’re doing their whole “stay. no, leave. no, stay” dance all over again, but like, dragged out over MANY YEARS.

- you thought eiji’s letter would’ve cleared up any crossed wires?

- HELL NO

- like yea, there was probably a beautiful honeymoon period of about a year or two after they reunited, before their respective trauma and issues started creeping in and fucking things up again.

- esp on ash’s end, i think he’d engage in a lot of self-sabotage. and eiji is only human, he has his own limits and baggage too.

- there will be a government conspiracy plotline but on a smaller scale compared to canon that i am unfortunately not knowledgeable enough to worldbuild on, but it will probably have something to do with cybercrime/cyberterrorism/stuff like that bc it needs to tie in with ash's hacking shenanigans.

- i've heard that sing ends up becoming some sorta political big shot in yasha? idk, i haven't read it myself, but since china’s rising status was mentioned in GoL i imagine the plot should relate to that somehow.

- therefore sing would also get to be in this story!

- i guess this means yut-lung would come into the picture at some point as well, and it would be a good opportunity for a redemption arc but i haven’t given it much of a thought bc i’m indifferent to his character orz SORRY.

- look i can’t do plot, but i am basically envisioning a political thriller with a side of slow burn romance (wait, you mean like a rehash of canon?)

- i’m thinking max is the one who kicks off the story by bringing something fishy to ash, and they just end up uncovering more and more and MORE stuff as they keep going.

- so for like 80% of the story, ash and eiji will be separated bc ash will be busy spying or infiltrating something... and being at the center of Plot Things, while max and eiji will be more on the outside dealing with the journalist side of things. i’m fond of max-ash interactions but i’m also REALLY CURIOUS about max-eiji’s dynamic :D

- meanwhile sing will be like, half in and half out i imagine. he's versatile like that lol

- ...i did NOT mean that in a dirty way

- anyway, this will provide ash and eiji ample space to work out their issues separately, as i think living in close quarters for so many years has actually been aggravating them. ofc those issues don’t get 100% resolved by the end, but some time apart from each other to cool off and spend with other people should provide a bit of perspective.

- i want ash to make some NEW FRIENDS (!!!) that are on the same wavelength as him bc there’s only so much that he can tell eiji and i’m sure he gets rather lonely, so there will be OCs that he will meet in the middle of Plot Things.

- ash will get trapped at some point. preferably with sing so they can have a much needed heart-to-heart talk. they’ll have a lot to hash out, ranging from the events in BF, shorter’s and lao’s death, all the way to ash’s love life.

- btw i like the idea of eiji and sing being close drinking buddies who confide in one another but ash is kinda, justalittle, not very happy about that LOL

- i mean, it's not like eiji can confide in ash when ash is the topic at hand, ya get me? as for sing, he’s similar to ash in the sense that they live dangerous lives, so i imagine he just finds it nice to be able to hang out with someone mundane like eiji every now and then.

- not to say that ash and sing aren’t talking to each other at all, but i think they’d have a bit of a rift between them. sing probably does feel some resentment, both at ash for killing lao AND at himself bc he knows deep down that given a choice, he would’ve saved ash over his own brother. ash can sense that tortured vibe, so eiji’s like their middle man. AND THAT’S WHY THEY NEED A HEART-TO-HEART TALK

- (SIDE NOTE: i want akira to have a role in this too. i actually have a separate headcanon that happens prior to this story... kinda like an alternate GoL?

akira goes to the states to visit eiji, but ash is also there, yeah? akira and ash start out sorta prickly with each other bc ash is all weird and standoffish and always cooped up in his room. she probably mistook him as a jobless model mooching off eiji at first since 1) eiji and ibe have never spoken about him back in japan (cuz he’s supposed to be dead), 2) why would eiji be living with some random hot guy? unless they met during one of his photography gigs? right???

and then she ends up witnessing them in the middle of a tiff, which makes her not like ash even more bc HOW DARE HE YELL AT POOR OKUMURA-SAN??? UNGRATEFUL JERK!!!

but over the course of her visit, she snoops around learns a bit about their history and gathers hints as to why their r’ship is kinda strained. also ash and akira somehow end up bonding (reluctantly) over their emotional insecurities and part on a friendly rivalry to win over eiji’s affections (which eiji is completely oblivious to. also akira may have been 100% serious but ash was just jokingly playing along with her (OR WAS HE???)). anyway long story short, ash teaches akira some cool tech/IT stuff along the way so that leads to her gaining an interest in the field.

she won’t be able to do much in this story, but a minor role would be cool :)

^ a lighthearted gyoza-making scene amid all the angst)

- (SIDE NOTE #2: i ALSO want cain to feature in this, but bc canon provided very little bg info on him it’s hard for me to figure out where he’d fit. but i suppose that’s precisely why it would be great to include him, since i can just make up my own backstory! lol. for now, i think he should be connected to one of the new OCs to make him more central to the plot. or heck, he can be involved himself! ...yeah, i’m just salty about how cain was treated more like a convenient plot device compared to the other major side characters. we barely know anything about him even though he was one of ash’s most trusted allies. #caindeservedbetter2k20)

- anyway, back to the main story. ash (and his new "friends") barely escape where they’re held hostage. ash would be rusty with combat now as he’s spent the past few years doing only stealth work and being rather sedentary.

- so there’ll be lotsa old man!ash jokes like them poking fun at him whenever he complains about his back hehe

- when they finally emerge outside they find themselves in the middle of nowhere! they then hijack a passing pickup truck and do a roadtrip back to civilisation. ROAD TRIP FTW

- at this point, quite some time has already passed and ash even has a fuzzy beard and mane and all. he’s standing at the back of the truck with a small smile on his face and the wind blowing in his hair, thinking GONNA GO BACK AND SEE EIJI, MISS HIM LOADS, HELL YEA

- (bonus: this song and this scene is the catalyst for this entire headcanon btw)

(drew this about a year ago. i was trying to imitate the manga’s art style... and the ash i had in my mind was a little different. i’m too lazy to redraw, but he’s fuzzier now okay! MORE FUZZ! like an actual freakin LION!)

- meanwhile, eiji and max will get into some deep shit around this point?

- eiji in the pic above was me imagining that the Bad Guys had tossed some damning evidence (eg. severed body part?) on the ground like “ash’s dead/ash’s in a lot of danger now so hand over all the info u have”

- and eiji and max are like. SHOOKETH

- this would be the 3rd time ash has “died” after all, and as they say... 3rd time's the charm...

- eiji almost gives in, but then max spits in their face like fuck no and then... yeah. they get beat up and taken away or something lol

- EDIT: hmm... what if the Bad Guy is someone IN the government, and he uses his power to get eiji and max arrested for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive (ash). and then ash has to rescue them... JAILBREAK STYLE

- also it might be cool to introduce ash's mom somewhere in this story... maybe SHE'S the villain! mwahaha *drama intensifies*

- anyways they will get saved by ash and gang bc that’s just the way things go, BUT! only on the condition they already made it out at least 80% of the way bc GODDAMN IT👏LET👏EIJI👏BE👏BADASS👏FOR👏ONCE👏

- (that is, after he overcomes the initial shock of ash possibly being dead again... again...... again............)

- there will ofc be moments of “oh my god, you’re okay” "i thought i lost you...!"

- something like this, because one can never have enough cheesy reunion scenes

- this will eventually lead to REVELATIONS (of the romantic kind, yes)

- buuuut they will never say "i love you" directly to each other bc ash is too emotionally constipated and eiji is too japanese. it's okay, they will communicate it through heated stares 👀

- i would love for there to be a scene where they have to be separated again for Plot Reasons and ash sorta hesitantly goes all "...will you wait for me?" as a direct parallel to canon!eiji's "i'll be waiting" and it’s like,

- FINALLY!

- FINALLY!!!!!!!!!! ash has finally allowed himself to ask for this, to let himself want it!

- and eiji would be like OF COURSE I WILL YOU BIG DUMMY, ALWAYS AND FOREVER

- but i think it'd be hilarious if eiji pops up while ash's in the middle of the final showdown and ash's like WTF I TOLD YOU TO WAIT FOR ME and eiji's like I WAS WORRIED OKAY YOU WERE TAKING SO LONG

- idk how this is supposed to end...

- oh wait! since the plot is government-related, maybe Someone will be able to pull strings to wipe out ash’s criminal record (past and present) and give him a brand new 100% legal identity, as thanks for his efforts? or maybe ash (or sing) just does it himself somewhere along the way LOL. anyway, he’ll be able to start over with a fresh clean slate and finally work on recovery FOR REAL NOW. yes this is a happy ending AND it didn’t require him to go to japan /flips off canon

- ...i realise it’s never going to be that simple but W H A T E V E R

- (also they probably will visit japan in the future with that shiny new passport... gotta meet the in-laws and all y’know)

- who do i gotta pay to write this cheesy self-indulgent fic for me

#since tumblr is for talking to myself that is exactly what im gonna do now #a very long self-indulgent post //#banana fish

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fuzzkaizer · 6 months ago

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VOX - TONE BENDER

1967

cred: reverb.com/Mediator

#vox #tone bender #tonebender #fuzz #made in italy #painting #rusty old fuzz

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keyofjetwolf · 5 years ago

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Pitch Me your thing!

HELLO HELLO MY SUNBEAMS. For most every category, there was an impressive turn-out for pitches, so I thought we’d utilize the weirdness of this year’s GIFTENING to give something new a try. The popular vote winner for each category will happen on the first day, but on the second, the winner will be chosen from YOUR PITCHES. Mostly those pitches will be to me. The exception is in Miscellaneous, where you’ll be pitching to my family, because what I want to do and what is most entertaining isn’t necessarily the same thing.

So! How will we do this thing? GLAD YOU ASKED. I’ll link you to a form in a minute with space for one pitch. Once you fill it out, you’ll be asked if you want to do another. There’s no limit to the number of pitches you can send in! But remember that if you submit multiple entries for the same category, you’ll basically be competing against yourself.

NOW WE’VE GOT SOME RULES FOR DOING THIS (which I mostly stole from Holligay, because I have no creativity this year). Please read them carefully! I’ll toss pitches that break any of these, and I’d rather your hard work not go to waste.

Pitch Me is open for your submissions from RIGHT NOW (22 December) through the very last day of this hellyear (31 December) at 11:59pm MT.

The thing you pitch must have come from what was nominated for THE GIFTENING 2020. (Full list of those nominations in every category below the cut on this post.)

Entries must be unsigned! I’m looking to chose based on the pitch alone, regardless of who submitted it.

The pitch itself must be 100 words or less. HAVE PITY ON ME I CAN ONLY CONSUME SO MUCH.

If you’d like to get some help, ideas, feedback, all that good stuff, the Discord is a FANTASTIC resource I encourage you to use.

HERE IS YOUR PITCH SUBMISSION LINK

And, as promised, below the cut you’ll find the list of all the nominees in every category you guys sent in this year. IT’S A LONG LIST HAVE FUN WITH THAT

Anime

A Place Further Than The Universe/Sora Yori mo Toi Basho Ace Attorney (Gyakuten Saiban) Action Heroine Cheer Fruits Aggretsuko Aho Girl Air Master Akuma No Riddle Alien Nine Angel Beats! Angelic Layer Appare-Ranman Aria Aria the Animation Arrietty/ The Secret World of Arrietty (Ghibli film) Ascendance of a Bookworm Azumamga Daioh Baccano! Beastars Black Cat Blood + (the series) Bloom Into You Blue Drop/Tenshitachino Gikyoku Bodacious Space Pirates (starting right where you left off) BOFURI: I Don't Want to Get Hurt, so I'll Max Out My Defense Boku no hero academia Bubblegum Crisis Card Captor Sakura: Clear Card Cardcaptor Sakura Castlevania the Animated Series Cells at Work Chaos; Head Chihayafuru Code Geass cowboy Bebop Cyborg 009 Death Note Death Parade Deca-Dence Demon Girl Next Door Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba) Diebuster: Aim For the Top 2 Dog Days dorohedoro Dot Hack//SIGN Dr. Stone Elfen Lied Erased (Boku Dake Ga Inai Machi) Escaflowne Excel Saga Fantastic Children Fate/Zero Flip Flappers Fresh Precure Fruits Basket 2019 Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Ga rei Zero GaoGaiGar gekkan shoujo nozaki-kun Ghost in the Shell: Standalone Complex Ghost Stories (dubbed) Girls' Last Tour Great Pretender Hoseki no Kuni/ Land of the Lustrous House of Five Leaves/ Saraiya Goyou Inari konkon koi iroha Interviews with Monster Girls Inuyasha Isekai Izakaya "Nobu" Jellyfish Princess/ Kuragehime JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 4: Diamond is Unbreakable Kaguya-sama Love Is War Kaleido Star Kannazuki no Miko Keep Your Hands Off Eizouken! Kemono Friends Kiki's Delivery Service Kimi ni Todoke: From Me To You Kino's Journey/Kino no Tabi (2003) Land of the Lustrous (Houseki no Kuni) Little Witch Academia Lord El-Melloi II's Case Files EP0 {"A Grave Keeper") Love is Hard for an Otaku Love Live! Sunshine!! lupin the 3rd part 4 Madoka: The Rebellion Movie Magic knight rayearth Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha March Comes in Like a Lion Mardock Scramble Master of Martial Hearts Mawaru Penguindrum Megalobox Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid Mob Psycho 100 Mobile Suit Gundam (1979) Monster Mushishi My Bride is a Mermaid (Seto No Hanayome) My Love Story!!! My Neighbor Totoro My Next Life As A Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom My Roommate is a Cat NANA Naruto Natsume’s Book of Friends Neon Genesis Evangelion (hateblog) New Cutey Honey Nichijou Ōban Star-Racers One Piece Ouran High school Host club Outlaw Star Paranoia Agent Perfect Blue Please Save My Earth Pop Team Epic Pretty Cure Fresh Princess Jellyfish/ Kuragehime Princess Mononoke Princess Principal Princess Tutu Project A-Ko promised neverland (/yakusoku no neverland) Psycho-Pass Ranma 1/2 Re: Cutie Honey Re:Creators Read or Die (OAV) Red Garden relife Revolutionalry Girl Utena Rose of Versailles Ruroni Kenshin Sailor Moon Sailor Moon (viz dub) Samurai Champloo (english dub) Sarazanmai School Days School-Live! Scum's Wish Senki Zesshou Symphogear (listed as just "Symphogear" on Crunchyroll.) Serei no Moribito (Guardian of the Spirit) Shin Sekai Yori (From The New World) Shirobako Shoujo Kageki Revue Starlight Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle Smile Pretty Cure (Japanese original)/ Glitter Force (english adaptation) Snow White with the Red Hair Sound Euphonium Strawberry Panic (yuri) Sweetness and Lightning The Devil is a Part-timer The Devil Lady The disasterous life of saiki k (saiki kusuo no Sai Nan) The End of Evangelion (movie) the Promised Neverland The Twelve Kingdoms Tiger & Bunny Tokimeki Tonight ToraDora Tsubasa Chronicle Umineko When They Cry Valkyrie Drive: Mermaid Vinland Saga Violet Evergarden Whispered Words (Sasameki Koto) With a Dog AND a Cat, Every Day is Fun Yona of the Dawn Yu Yu Hakusho Yugioh Duel Monster Yuki Yuna is a Hero Yuri Kuma Arashi Yuri On Ice!!! Zoids: Chaotic Century Zombie Land Saga

Non-Anime Animated

Adventure Time Amphibia Animainiacs (Original) Animaniacs (Reboot) Archie's Weird Mysteries As Told By Ginger Barbie Life in The Dreamhouse Batman the Animated Series Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot Big Mouth Bob's Burgers Bojack Horseman Bravest Warriors Captain N: the Game Master Carmen Sandiego (1994) Carmen Sandiego (2019) Castlevania (Netflix) Cats Don't Dance Coco Courage the Cowardly Dog Craig of the Creek Cyber Six Daria Darkwing Duck Dragon Booster Dragons: Riders of Berk DuckTales (2017) Exo-Squad Fern Gully Fillmore! Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends Futurama Gargoyles Glitch Techs Godzilla: The Animated Series Green Lantern the Animated Series Hedgehog in the Fog (Ёжик в тумане) Hey Arnold Hilda Infinity Train Iron Giant JEM Kim Possible Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts Legend of Zelda animated series (1989) Legion of Super-Heroes Liberty Kids Magical Girl Friendship Squad Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart The Legend of Korra Moominvalley Motorcity My Little Pony (Classic, NOT FiM) My Little Pony: Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks Onyx Equinox Over the Garden Wall Over the Moon (2020 film) Owl House Primal Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure Redwall Rise of the TMNT Roco's Modern Life Rugrats RWBY Samurai Jack Seis Manos She-Ra (1985) She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Sonic Boom Spartakus and the Sun Beneath the Sea Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse Star vs. the Forces of Evil Strange Magic Super Mario Brothers Super Show Superman: The Animated Series Teen Titans The 13 Ghosts of Scooby Doo The Animals of Farthing Wood The Dragon Prince The Hollow The Legend of Tarzan (TV series) The Magic School Bus (1994) The Mysterious Cities of Gold The Pirate Fairy (Disney Fairies) The Powerpuff Girls (1998) The Real Ghostbusters Thundercats (1985) Thundercats (2011) Transformers: Prime Tuca and Bertie Twelve Forever Undone Venture Bros Wakko's Wish Wakfu Wander Over Yonder We Bare Bears (TV) Winx Club Wreck-It Ralph (2012) X-Men Evolution X-Men: The Animated Series Xiaolin Showdown

Live Action

20,000 Leagues Under the Sea 28 Days Later 3rd Rock from the Sun A Series of Unfortunate Events American Horror Story: Asylum Babysitter's Club (2020) Batman (the old Adam West version) Better Call Saul Black Mirror Blackbeard's Ghost (Peter Ustinov) Boston Legal Boy Meets World Boys Over Flowers Bromance (Taiwanese tv series) Brooklyn 99 Buffy the Vampire Slayer Cadfael Cagney and Lacey Charmed (2018) Chopped Cleopatra 2525 Cloak and Dagger Clue (1985) Community Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance Dead Like Me Dead To Me Deadwood Death Note (Netflix) Derry Girls Dimension 20 - The Unsleeping City Doctor Who (New) Doom Patrol Dracula's Daughter (1936) Escape to the Chateau Farscape Fingersmith Galavant Godzilla (2014) Gokushufudo (2020 Japanese TV drama) Golden Girls Good Omens H20: Just Add Water (somewhere in seasons 1-2) Happy New Year Harley Quinn movie Hateblog a REALLY STRAIGHT soap opera. Haunting of Bly Manor His Dark Materials (HBO series) Holes Hot Fuzz House Inception Inside No. 9 Iron Chef America Joan of Arcadia Julie and the Phantoms Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle Kamen Rider Build Kamen Rider Ex-Aid Kamen Rider Fourze Killing Eve Knives Out Letterkenny Leverage Little Women (2019) Lucifer Matlock Majisuka Gakuen MASH Merlin Mission Impossible Ghost Protocol Money Talks (1997 film) Motherland: Fort Salem Murder She Wrote Mythbusters Nailed It! Never Have I Ever Once Upon a Time Orphan Black Pen 15 PGSM Pi (1998) Picnic at Hanging Rock (2018) Pride and Prejudice: A New Musical Puppy Bowl Pushing Daisies Rome (hateblog) Russian Doll Sabrina Sense8 Sera Myu: Un Nouveau Voyage Shameless Sierra Burgess Smallville So Weird Star Trek: TOS (or their films) Star Trek: The Next Generation Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Star Trek: Voyager Stargate Atlantis Suckerpunch Supernatural (out of context speedrun the last three episodes) Sweetheart Switched at Birth Tall Girl Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles The Addams Family (1964) The Big Flower Fight The Booth at the End The Bride With White Hair The Crown The Fresh Prince of Bel Air The Good Place The Kissing Booth The L Word The Librarians The Magicians The Muppet Show The Pregnancy Pact The Room The Steve Harvey Show The Stranded The Untamed The Witcher The Wolfman (1941) Torchwood Twilight Zone (original) Twin Peaks Ultraman Nexus Umbrella Academy Van Helsing Warehouse 13 Warrior Nun What We Do In The Shadows (tv show) Will & Grace Wynonna Earp X-Men 2: X-Men United Xena: Warrior Princess

Miscellaneous

Alpha Flight #41-62 Anime music dance party, the logistics of which are to be determined! Ask Hot Pocket and/or Mina-pup AskSharknado: Giftening Edition Attempt to make French macaroons Commentary on old Goggles Critical Role Crowdsourced: A Black Mirror-style day where Jetty has to ask what her choices are of the audience for everything! I give you a menu, you decide what she has for dinner? What does she wear? Does she walk on the track or do the eliptical? Does she go to a movie with Doc or play a video game with Mike? Can be done alongside other stuff. Doodle Day Dramatic readings of fan fiction! Drunk History (or whatever your favorite subject would be) with Jet Wolf! Drunk Sailor Moon Exorcising Closet Ghost Fic Prompts Day Figuarts Day! (Not specifically freeing anyone, just various fun poses and such) Guess the plot of a show based on its opening Her Shim-Cheong (manhwa) House of X/Powers of X Hubby's Choice IDW Jem comics liveblog Intros Only (watch show openings, give commentary, guess what show is about, etc.) Jackbox Games Jet Wolf paints along with Bob Ross Jet and Doc go to Heaven/Hell, respectively: Jet gets to write reams of words about the awesomeness of Rei Hino and Doc has to read all of them and say ONLY NICE THINGS. Jet does Tiktok dances Jet Liveblogs Holligay: A Nature Documentary Jet Ranks Sailor Moon Image Songs Jet Reads Goosebumps Jet Reads Legion of Super-Heroes Jet redesigns the Wolf and Gay offices! Jet shows off her knitting Jet Wolf attempts to recreate scenes from Sailor Moon with Mina and Hot Pocket and/or whatever is in the house Jet Wolf reacts to Sailor Moon tiktoks (in blog form) Jet Wolf reads Love and Rockets. Jet Wolf reads the Jem comics by IDW Jet Wolf reviews her old top 100 Sailor Moon moments list Jet Wolf talks about Archie Comics Jet Wolf talks about each cel she owns and why they are so awesome. Jet Wolf writes Poetry Jet Wolf's Top 5's Jet, Hubby and/or family play board games Jetty Rants and Raves Jet Wolf tries to crack the Gravity Falls Codes Kiwi Blitz on Hiveworks Let's Play on Webtoon Liveblog: Favorite X-Men comic book arcs Livestream Pathfinder one-shot LOONA (Collection of music videos with an ongoing story/universe about GIRLS who are FRIENDS and SAVE THE UNIVERSE) Lore Olympus on Webtoon Mike regales us with "the story of your love" while you get increasingly embarrassed Mina and Hot Pocket day - liveblog like a nature documentary Mister Tsukino Does His Taxes and the Household Budget (Sailor Moon fan comic by Shadowjack) Nancy Drew: Ghost Dogs of Moon Lake Not So Shoujo Love Story on Webtoon Pitch Mishaps for Untitled Senshi Game (it is a lovely day in Juuban, and you are a Horrible Minako.) Pitching hubby's favorite media at (readers/holligay/jill/momigay) Playing with dolls (because how could 3 women not have any dolls between them) Re-Take By Studio Kimigabuchi (All Ages Version) Real or Fake Anime (people submit descriptions of anime you guess if it is an anime that actually exists or not) Reviewing succulents Scavenger hunt! Not entirely sure how it would work, maybe folks could send in asks for you to show things like your favorite Rei Hino object, or the thing that's been with you the longest, etc. sewing/knitting/baking tutorial Share or rant about a Roman history topic Sleepless Domain on Hiveworks Talking to Docholligay 2: Doc Harder (basically you talking to Doc's future womb evictee while still in there and telling them stuff like say the greatness of Rei Hino) The Monster Duchess and Contract Princess (manhwa) The Polar Bear Plunge--I take Jetty to our finest Lake Elmo in January, and she jumps in! Note: THIS IS NOT DANGEROUS, WORRYWARTS. I'll bring a life preserver, I've done it before, and I would do it with her if I weren't pregnant. The Senshi Helpline--The Senshi, taking your advice questions, here and now! The World of Moral Reversal Virtual knitting/crafting circle! Let us craft and chat with you! What-If #24 Gwen Stacy Lived Worm the web serial Write an explanation for a drawing we send you! Yuri Hell's Kitchen

#THE GIFTENING 2020 #THE GIFTENING 2020 admin stuff

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unwhithered · 5 years ago

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Two Approaches to Athos’ Drinking Problem (Jedi Musketeers)

I wrote these like, a year apart so they’re not gonna fit together without some chopping later on. Guess which one came first?

“My Master is a drunk,” d’Artagnan announces with the straightforwardness of the young. It’s the eve of their first mission as a Master-Padawan pair (or, in reality, a Master-Master-Master-Padawan team) and his heel has been tapping nervously since he sat down.

Aramis, who is tending to a cut on d’Artagnan’s forehead from a fall during training, only hums noncommittally.

“What?” d’Artagnan demands, incensed. “Do you have no excuses for him? No denials? A Knight of the Order is a drunk and doesn’t even bother to hide it, and not only do his closest companions ignore it, worse yet the Council has decided to turn a blind eye to the behavior and assign him a padawan. One he doesn’t even seem to want half the time!”

“What do you want, boy?” Aramis asks with a long suffering sigh. I was just starting to think you’d settled in. He supposes it’s progress that after two months their padawan is finally willing to speak his mind. But why, for Force’s sake, had he chosen Aramis to unload his teenage frustrations onto? “Congratulations, you have eyes and the basic skills of observation. I hope it didn’t take you all this time to realize Athos has a drinking habit.”

“No.” Now d’Artagnan looks sullen - his most frequent expression - and Aramis has to tug his head back into position to keep applying bacta to his wound. “I only thought, maybe it was temporary. I know they shoved me off on him because his Master died before he was knighted too. I thought maybe it was a temporary coping mechanism. But it’s been a month. He’s drunk every night and hungover every morning even though he could easily heal such a little issue! And no one does anything about it!”

“And what would you like someone to do about it?”

“Pull him from the field! Send him to a mind healer! Anything other than send me off into space with someone too drunk to pilot a ship.”

“Tch.” Aramis smooths a bandage over d’Artagnan’s forehead and then presses his palm to it. “You do have a taste for the dramatic. Porthos and I will be there as well.” The Force around the boy roils with the righteous indignation of the very young, making healing harder. Unlike with his brothers, Aramis is not yet sure how to soothe the frayed edges of their padawan’s mind. “This kind of healing cannot be forced, dear one. Athos has seen a mind healer and been cleared for the field. And yes, still he drinks, not to forget his loss - as you well know, a bond severed with such violence is an unforgettable wound - but to punish himself. He never drinks when it might punish anyone else. And someday when he feels he has done his penance and made peace with himself, he will not drink at all. The Council, I think, is hoping that you will speed that process along. That you will heal each other. I think you may. But until then, trust that you are safe, and that the Council knows what they’re doing even when we don’t understand their methods.

d’Artagnan huffs, tossing his head, but doesn’t dare question the wisdom of the Council - at least aloud. Aramis can feel his confusion and frustration bleeding into the Force. He tsks again and tries to project calm as he takes d’Artagnan’s face between his hands, the cheeks still soft with peach fuzz. “Stop moving and let me heal you. And stop pouting before your face freezes that way.”

Once the boy complies Aramis reaches for the place inside himself where he feels the calm pulse of power, of connection to every living thing around them. Drawing it out of himself, he traces the thread that connects him to the glow that is d’Artagnan and searches out his wounds, bypassing the ragged edges of the hole where his bond with Master Dell once lived and looking for the physical. When he finds them Aramis pictures flesh stitching itself back together, light filling the places where d’Artagnan’s skin is dark with bruises. The wounds are minor enough that he can speak while healing them. “I’m sorry I have no satisfactory answers for you. Try to trust in the Force, and know that it isn’t that Athos doesn’t want you - only that he doesn’t know how to teach you without making himself vulnerable, and he struggles to let people in. Much like you do. You’ll both get over it.”

“I hope so,” d’Artagnan mutters, though the lines of pain and worry are melting off of his young face under the onslaught of Aramis’ care.

“I know so,” he replies quietly, smoothing the last line from between d’Artagnan’s eyes with his thumb. “There. Let the bacta finish its work and you’ll be good as new tomorrow.”

AND

With another groan, Porthos swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits. He briefly rests a hand on the top of Aramis’ head, gently combing his fingers through his overgrown, tangled mess of curls. Aramis hums quietly in return, tipping his head into Porthos’ hand without ever really rising out of his meditative state. It speaks to a lifetime of companionship, living in each other’s pockets in the creche and spending every spare moment together as padawans, that it causes so little disturbance.

“You should sleep,” he murmurs, before climbing carefully to his feet and limping down the short hall to take a piss. After, he detours into the tiny on board kitchen in search of a mug of caf, and finds Athos at the two seat table - unconscious, with an empty bottle of cheap whiskey beside him and a trail of drool on his chin. When he reaches out in the Force, Athos feels drunk and dead to the world, but not dangerously so. Not like the early days, when they were first knighted and he and Aramis would trade off nights of sitting beside Athos in some dingy bar, watching him give himself alcohol poisoning and then stepping in to burn the booze out of his system before it did any permanent damage.

That makes him a problem for later, Porthos decides, quietly shutting the door behind him. He’s too restless to return to his bunk, instead finds his feet leading him to the cockpit, where he finds Athos’ padawan - their padawan, for all purposes - sitting in the pilot’s chair, his knees hugged to his chest as he stares out the viewscreen. He looks...small, with all of his lanky teenage limbs folded up like that. Young.

Force, was Porthos ever really that young? Were Aramis and Athos? Unscarred, smooth skinned, with no lines around their eyes and mouths?

Perhaps, a lifetime ago. (It’s only been a decade.)

Letting out a sigh, Porthos drops heavily into the co-pilot’s chair and stretches his injured leg out in front of himself. “This thing pilots itself, y’know. No need for you to keep watch.”

“One of you always does,” d’Artagnan points out without looking away from the stars flashing past.

“Habits of the old and paranoid,” Porthos replies with a shrug. A momentary flash of pain, a muffled grunt, and he manages to prop his heel up on the console. A rusty red stain is spreading through the stark white bandage Aramis wrapped around his leg earlier. Also a problem for later.

“Habits.” d’Artagnan lets out a huff that could be either a laugh or a sigh - Porthos can’t be sure, even after glancing at his profile. “And my Master- does he always make a habit of…?” The slight tip of his head toward the hall fills in the rest.

“Drinking?”

d’Artagnan grunts confirmation, and Porthos stalls by taking a long sip from his mug of caf. Aramis had mentioned the boy broaching the subject with him before the mission, but they hadn’t had time to discuss it before they were in the thick of things. Porthos suddenly wishes they had. “Mm-hmm. Dries himself out for missions, o’course, but he’s a drunk on his own time. Don’t worry, d’Artagnan. He’s never too far gone to sober himself up with the Force, unless me or ‘Mis is there to do it for him.”

“It’s not that I worry about it! It’s - it’s - isn’t it against the code? To drink like that, to lose control of yourself?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? The Code is clear! There is no emotion, or passion, or chaos - only the Force. Yet Athos drinks himself unconscious, and I can feel something lurking just behind his shields. Emotions that are beyond control. Why did the Council assign me to a man who cannot follow our Code?”

“You’d have to ask them that.” Gently lowering his leg back to the floor, Porthos turns until he can look at d’Artagnan, staring in silence until the boy turns his head and returns Porthos’ gaze. “All I can tell you is life is far more complicated than any book of rules, an’ there’s always more than one way to read ‘em. Aramis has a few things to say about Odan-Urr’s modifications to the Code.

“Me, I think you’d be hard pressed to find a soul in this galaxy that can follow all of the tenets of the Code, all the time. Emotions are what make us people, what let us feel the compassion we must show to the galaxy. Passion is what dedicates us to bringing peace and justice to the galaxy. Right now you’re a great quivering ball of teenage emotions and worry ‘bout your strange new Master. Athos feels more than most and drinks to forget it, but it’s his passion for our Code and our Order that keep him grounded in the light. You watch how hard he works to uphold our Order and you’ll learn far more about being a Jedi than from a Master who makes it look easy.”

There’s a long pause in which d’Artagnan looks away, staring blankly out the window while Porthos watches his profile. “Master Dell made it look easy,” he finally says. “I learned much from him. I’m not sure what I’m learning from Master la Fere, other than to lead with my lightsaber.”

#bbc the musketeers #the musketeers fanfic #star wars fanfic #porthos #aramis #d'artagnan #athos #me and my jedi musketeers #my fic #i'm trying to write in a linear fashion but IT'S NOT WORKING #alcholism tw #we're not the half of fandom pretending athos' drinking problem is cute #ok?

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bogleech · 6 years ago

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Okay here’s the whole entire text of my original pokemon gen concept under a cut (sorry if that screws you up on mobile)

I’ve only ever sketched a tiny number of these (like my fly ideas here), but I can see most of them in my head pretty clearly and might sketch more of them by request someday. I originally set my fan-region in Florida, a place I hated living but still had a lot of interesting characteristics. This changed over once I moved to Oregon, and the thing about Oregon is that it has desert, forest, swamp, coastline and frozen mountaintops that are all pretty vast, ancient and in places relatively untouched compared to the rest of North America. This is not only a perfect setting for some really wild pokemon, but makes a believable choice because our Pacific Northwest is pretty popular in Japan.

The different biomes of this region have "deep" areas where the pokemon change. Some also have "polluted" areas. The region is environmentally themed and heavily deals with human interference on the natural world.

The villains are Team Bio, genetic engineerers lead by a mysterious old woman who narrowly survived the original Mewtwo experiment. Her underlings all use "mutant" pokemon, and she seeks to create a new species of hyper-intelligent, pure-hearted pokemon that will replace humans entirely. Along the way is a strange increase in reports of interstellar pokemon activity... I actually tried hard to minimize how many pokemon in this are just “my kind” of concept, but I think I failed pretty hard. It probably does feel like it leans a little more towards Mortasheen than something Pokemon would actually make, but for basically every pokemon that’s one of my “dream concepts” or “most wanted” I tried to come up with one that I thought would appeal more to somebody else’s taste than mine.

THE STARTERS

Grass Starter: a grass "lumberjack" pterosaur with an axe for a beak. Second stage has more saw-like beak, final stage is a grass/steel quetzalcoatlus (the pterosaur) with a beak and crest forming a chainsaw, no longer flies

Fire type calf whose black cow marks are actually soot. Evolves into cow with craggy black “helmet” and horns of charcoal. Final stage a charcoal-armored minotaur like fire/ground type.

Water Starter is a beady-eyed water shrew with big webbed flipper feet, known to steal shiny objects. Second stage more humanoid, said to dive for treasure. Final stage is water/dark lanky, stripey shrew with a black mask, said to rob boats like a “highwayman” of the river.

Meadows and forest:

Normal type mammal is a spherical porcupine, like a chestnut. Rubs its spines with noxious fruit juices, giving it a multicolored look. Evolved form is a colorful “punk” porcupine.

Early bug is a sticklike inchworm Evolves to cocoon resembling a wooden log on top. Final form is bipedal stick mimic grasshopper, evocative of a cute wooden puppet with a pointed nose.

Basic bird is a hummingbird Evolves to be four-winged and legless, never lands in its whole life. Final hummingbird is a fierce looking hunter that drains energy from grass types like a predator.

Grass type walking bud creature, looks nervous. Evolves to grass/flying orchid-like angelic flower. Alternate evolution is wilted, grey, grass/ghost goth orchid with tattered petals, cute but sad. (evolves this way if it levels up after a battle in which it sustained super-effective damage)

Ground type earthworm sticking out of dirt, cute flower-shaped head. Evolved worm looks like shark sticking out of the dirt, nose looks like its prevo

Electric/dark pikachu-like packrat holding a large coin. Electrically charges its treasure as a booby trap. Actually said to be employed as underlings by the water-type shrew starter.

MISCELLANY:

Bug/poison type grub with fangs. Only encountered in garbage cans. Evolves into a fly pupa Final stage is a gloomy looking, drooling anthropomorphic fly.

Single stage bug/fairy type: a beautiful Maleficent-looking parasitoid wasp. Evolves from any cocoon/pupa pokemon if they're holding a "suspicious egg" item.

Ocean

Water/grass nudibranch with flower on its back. Evolves to a glaucus, each "arm" a colorful flower that absorbs sunlight as it floats.

Water type fish that "sails" on the sea's surface with its fins. Sleepy looking stingray evolution. Final form is water/dragon deep sea fish, combines some traits of anglerfish and viperfish with eyes on stalks. Only evolves from stingray when you're in the sea trench.

Water/flying marlin with huge, dazzling butterfly like fins.

Water type baby dolphin, fuzzy like a seal pup, only evolves if it has fainted more times than the number of its current level. Evolved form is water/dark, shaggy-furred, fierce looking, battle scarred dolphin with legs instead of flippers, a throwback to the doglike ancestors of delphinidae.

Polluted inlet

Water/poison oil slick with two tentacles and beady white eyes, signature ability changes it to water/fire type if it uses a fire move. Evolved form is an oil slick rising into a cartoon octopus with x's for pupils.

Water/steel fish hook with tiny head and eyes, like a barbed metal worm. Water/steel fishing jig, googly eyes and everything.

Barren Island - just a very big rock in the middle of the inlet

Ghost/poison: a greenish "dodo bird" with a face like a biohazard mask, the ghost of a species that went exinct due to sickness.

Sea Trench

Water/fire bristleworm "snake" Water/fire tube worm "dragon"

Water/ghost wailord skeleton draped in pink fuzz and a garden of one-eyed bone worms.

Swamp

Electric/flying bird resembling a lightbulb kiwi. Evolved form resembling a neon light lawn flamingo.

Grass/fairy giant sloth with sleepy face, completely covered in shaggy moss with various flowers and mushrooms. Protector of the swamp, able to control plant life.

Grass/psychic sundew, just a pair of sundew leaves atop a sleepy looking oddish-esque bulb. Evolved sundew is mostly a big circular sundew rosette, but a humanoid flower rotates in the center like a music box to lure prey.

Water/fighting borzoi pup with long legs, acts like a water strider. Evolved form is an elongated, elegant borzoi "ballerina" that dances atop water

Water/ground red leech slightly evocative of a vacuum cleaner. A healer that sucks poison from the body instead of blood. May mysteriously appear in your team after walking through swamp water.

Deep Forest:

Grass/ground banana slug with colorful mold spots, learns spore. Evolves into mold splotched, brown banana peel creature, more like a big squid.

Grass/dark autumn leaf in the shape of a bat, has levitate. Evolved form redder, bigger "vampire cape" leaf-bat.

Psychic/ghost cheshire cat with Meowth-like proportions, bright crescent smile. Evolved form just huge smile and cat eyes hovering in the air, beastly cat body fading into view only for physical attacks or when struck.

Rock type humanoid made of transparent amber with a strange mayfly-like bug sleeping inside. Outer body can "break" at low HP and release faster, more offensive pure bug form.

Rock: incredibly huge, stony looking moose with long white fur draped over its eyes and back. Comes in size variations like Pumpkaboo line and said to never stop growing. A truly titanic one is used as transportation through the deep forest.

Snowy patches

Bug/ice velvet worm that spews a freezing liquid. Silly looking, almost like wiggler from mario.

Ice/flying fluffy white bird resembling a tiny Japanese style snowman. Evolves to resemble western style snowman with clawed bird feet, pointed beak nose. A flightless pure ice mountain dweller.

Electric/ice with levitate: a crystalline "UFO" sky-jellyfish with many colorful lights, core body looks like a cute pikmin-esque "alien" inside. Catch by fishing off of ledges into the sky. Mistaken by locals for alien activity.

Lava Tube Caves

Psychic type bipedal pink salamander with no eyes. Evolves into beautiful milotic-like psychic/dragon blind olm.

Rock/fighting spearhead with feet, eyes are just round holes through blade. Evolves to gain a stick-figure sort of body.

Abandoned town

Normal/bug filthy dog, a shaggy pile of fur with goofy eyes and pink tongue. Little black specks jump about it. Ability changes normal moves to bug moves. Evolved form more obviously a dog but still very shaggy, surrounded by constant cloud of black specks.

Grass/electric "christmas tree" made of holly and lights. Found in a burned down house, glowing eyes peer out from beneath it.

Ghost: has a colorful quilt for a body and a pincushion for a head. Found inside houses.

Garbage dump - accessible through abandoned town, possibly what drove people away (includes piles of toys you may investigate to encounter a banette, mimikyu or klefki)

Water/poison: cartoony fish with blank eyes and humanoid pair of legs. Fish for in toxic green garbage pools. Evolves into ground/poison skeleton fish with four limbs, walking like a lizard.

Steel/bug rusty orange silverfish. Eats junk metal. Evolved form so big it wears a rusty car for protection with just its legs and feelers sticking out.

MICROPOKEMON - enlarged artificially in a laboratory where you can also take your fossils.

Bug/fighting flea - spiny black flea with big jagged white teeth. Create from the "pest sample" an item carried randomly by the normal/bug dog.

Poison/fairy germ - fuzzy multicolored mold ball with eyes, stalked suckers. Retrieve "germ sample" from the dodo ghost.

Water/fairy tardigrade - transparent, cute bug stylized almost like a "gummy bear." Retrieve "dew sample" from moss sloth.

Pseudolegendary:

Rock type baby gargoyle creature. Evolves to winged gargoyle with levitate and a few mossy patches. Final form is an elegant griffon-like rock/dragon with an elaborately carved surface

SPACE ARK DRAGON This location is itself a dragon/fairy legendary pokemon so massive you can enter its body. It exists to collect and preserve species from dying worlds. Most common wild pokemon inside is duosion and sometimes Reuniclus. You can also collect "gene samples" from crystalline pods to replicate the ultrabeasts in the same lab you enlarge the microbes and resurrect fossils.

Bug/dark parasitic alien, a little like weird yellow plant suckered to the ground, red flower-like head with an eye on each petal ala the yokai parasite, gyochu.

Bug/dark parasitic alien, a colorful worm with cute eyes and beautiful mothlike wings, a little like the yokai parasite koshi-no-mushi.

Bug/dark parasitic alien, a pale, red and white striped "lizard" with six spindly limbs and a tubular proboscis, inspired by the yokai parasite kagemushi.

Fairy type alien medic, looks like a cute flatwoods monster with heart motif and nurse coat. Flees from all battles unless you have defeated at least one of each of the parasites.

LEGENDARIES:

Dragon/electric: the ark dragon's smaller offspring, looks like an electronic space whale.

Dragon/steel, menacing, sleek black starship creature. Rival to the ark dragon, a "world reaper" that attempts to destroy planets that it thinks are already dying.

Psychic/fairy little white, fluffy mothman-like being, an observer that casts judgment on suffering worlds to call one of the dragons (version based)

Normal type legendary is the most human-like pokemon we've ever seen, a serene floating figure with long hair and black, almond-shaped eyes. A genetic experiment to supplant humans.

Electric/fighting: a hulking humanoid beast, almost frankensteinian with asymmetrical features, a failed early experiment.

A "glitched and scrambled" two dimensional pokemon. The result of the earliest known experiments in digital pokemon transfer. Actually literally typeless.

POISON FUSIONS created in the garbage dump:

Weezodor - poison/flying - Garbodor/weezing hybrid, like a jellyfish bag with smog tentacles.

Mukking - poison/water - Weezing/muk hybrid, like a koffing with slime appendages.

Garmuk - poison/ground - Muk/garbodor hybrid, like a giant slug made of trash.

MUTANT POKEMON: mutations of classic first-stage pokemon into creatures slightly tougher than even their original final stages.

Mutant Caterpie - bug/dragon - huge, dragonlike Caterpie with more menacing eyespots, clawed limbs.

Mutant Paras - pure grass - giant paras with far more mushrooms of different colors, body pure white with no mouth and white sphere eyes, actually made only of fungus.

Mutant Venonat - bug/dark - same old venonat with a big shaggy monster body

Mutant Zubat - Psychic - somewhat larger than crobat, has actual legs and a pair of clawed arms instead of wings. Much bigger ears.

Mutant Voltorb - electric/steel - a Voltorb even bigger than Electrode, otherwise looks normal besides angrier yellow eyes...until it splits open to reveal sharp teeth.

Mutant Tangela - grass/fairy - more like its scrapped Gen II evolution but perhaps a lot taller, with two very very long arms.

Mutant Geodude - rock/fighting - HUGE spiky arms and hands but head/body are the same as always.

Mutant Shellder - water/steel - it's the spiraly slowbro one!

Mutant Exeggcute - psychic/poison - bigger and more plentiful but "rotten" looking eggs with gloomier eyes and dark purple goo.

Mutant Eevee - normal - bigger than any of the eeveelutions, shaggy and beastly with the "camouflage" ability. Learns strong attacks of every eevee evolution type.

Mutant Doduo - fighting type with only one head

Mutant Luvdisc - the only one based on a non-evolving pokemon. Angry "broken heart" Luvdisc with record offensive stats for the series, but even worse defenses than regular luvdisc.

Mutant Trapinch - dragon/bug - giant turtle-like Trapinch, redder, spiny, second mouth inside jaws.

Mutant Dratini - dragon/fairy - huge long dratini with longer feathery wing ears, identical wings down body.

Mutant Larvitar - dragon/dark - big, armored green reptile, still has larvitar type head with craggier, meaner horn.

Mutant Bagon - dragon - huge, more t-rex proportioned bagon, spiked shell on head.

Mutant Deino - bigger and shaggier with a ring of five long-necked deino heads

Mutant Gible - dragon/fighting - only usually seen as a huge sharky fin sticking out of the ground. When it emerges, its body isn't much bigger than regular gible.

Mutant Goomy - psychic/dragon - giant goomy with gaping mouth, antennae are much longer, green and stripey.

Mutant Jangmo-o - dragon/steel - same old head but more ankylosaur-like big body, entirely a dark iron color with more pitted looking scales.

ENVIRONMENTAL VARIATIONS no mechanical or typing difference, but new color schemes and decorations on existing pokemon, totally an aesthetic change. Have their own shiny forms.

SEA TRENCH FORMS: Entirely pale pink golisopod line with closed eyes transparent red tentacool line with darker red nodules dark maroon inkay line with blue lights red and purple feebas line

CAVE FORMS: White, eyeless venipede line White, eyeless magikarp line

DEEP SWAMP FORMS: crocodile-green Sandile line with lily pad on head black shelled "freshwater" shellder line with green algae growths pure red and purple colored bellsprout line

DEEP FOREST FORMS: braviary with more hawklike colors foongus line with no pokeball pattern...the original foongus? wolf-spider colored joltik line

POLLUTED INLET FORMS: Dewpider line with all black body and limbs, yellow glowing eyes in dirty green water Grey wailmer line draped in red algae, clumps of barnacles (presumably degenerated binacle) Wingull line with grey and black oil-splotched feathers, tin can on head

GARBAGE DUMP FORMS: Bounsweet line with only grey, brown and black colors, dark spoiled looking splotches Black bag trubbish line with green trash, copper colored pipes Rusted looking klink line, rotates only once every few seconds.

----------GYM LEADERS -------------- In this region the gyms are dual type, and bring back past mechanics and gimmicks as their focus.

flying/normal: a blind, wheelchair-bound old man who specializes in dog and bird pokemon. Uses a baton pass team.

Steel/electric: an astronaut commanding his gym by remote feed from the station. Uses Magnezone, Rotom forms and, surprisingly, a random steel or electric ultrabeast.

Poison/bug: a germophobic lady scientist ironically obsessed with pollution pokemon, always wearing a biohazard suit. Has weezing, garbodor, the fly pokemon and Yanmega. Uses Z-moves, but it's random whether she uses a bug or poison one and on which pokemon.

Dark/fire: an elderly biker lady. Has no gym and in fact roams around the region. Surprisingly challenges you to a third-gen style beauty contest with her frightening selection of pokemon.

Grass/fairy: witchy pharmacist and botanist who lives out in the woods, all of her grass types are mushroom based. Unusually has you team up with her in a double battle against a random pokemon of unusual size and strength, like Alola's totem pokemon.

Ground/fighting: an extremely frail little nerdy guy who likes amazingly fearsome pokemon, hates bullies but kind of is one. Makes you face a horde battle with all of his pokemon vs. only one of yours at a time.

Dragon/rock: a boisterous monster movie director who dresses his pokemon in costumes, gym is a cardboard city. Uses a dynamaxed pokemon.

Ghost/psychic: a horror author, Vincent Price like, lives in a mansion and makes visitors face scenes from his books. Instead of a single battle, he has you face a series of singular mega pokemon behind each "scene." THE LABORATORY This location is of course secretly associated with the villain team, but you can free it up from them in the endgame. Here you can make fossil pokemon, micropokemon, regional forms from past generations, ultrabeasts and even mega stones, but all require you to spend one or more “gene crystals.” You’re handed a number of these through the storyline but it would be very challenging to farm more than that (think Gen 7 bottlecaps). Spending more crystals at the lab would allow you to finally alter abilities, natures and IV’s at a whim, and for an exceptional cost you could upgrade the BASE stats of any L100 pokemon permanently. This is a percentage increase applied across the board to all of its stats at once, and stops at either 100 total points beyond their normal limits, or a final base stat total of 530 (equivalent to a fully evolved starter) MISC STUFF:

Your mom this gen asks you if you hope to have an easy, challenging, or very challenging adventure. You can return to her at any time to adjust the difficulty again.

When you beat the game, you can make a custom trainer for online battles using the models of other NPC trainer types, i.e. you can finally be a swimmer/scientist/grunt/etc. You can unlock some popular ones from past generations.

You can select one pokemon as your main partner, which not only has it following you, but involves it a little more in the storyline (special events based on its first typing) and gives it some in-game perks.

A special item attached to any one of your pokemon allows your whole team to “share strength,” meaning that their weaknesses are mitigated for each teammate they share a type with. This allows for type-themed teams to be more viable but wouldn’t completely eliminate their weaknesses, and the effect diminishes proportionately for every pokemon that faints.

You can designate a seventh pokemon to be your “team mascot,” a non-combat role with different effects depending on species/type.

A single team can have either the mascot, a z-move, a dynamax/gigantamax form or a mega, cannot mix these.

Legendary pokemon now suffer a stat nerf for every other legendary pokemon on the same team. A team of six legendaries would actually be somewhat below-average in stats.

#pokemon #fakemon

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

Note

Feeling kinda dumb asking this tbh. Not sure if you even watched TVD, but in case you did, you know how Bonnie uses Expression Magic which is considered extreamly dark and powerful form of magic (I mean, she literally destroyed hell!) do you mind writing Freddy x victim!reader oneshot where he mets a witch who also practices Expression and is extreamly powerfull? He tries to kill her at first obviously

Omg, this one started out so light hearted but oh my god.

Don't feel dumb!! Its a good ask!! I do watch TVD, and I hope you like this ^^

~~~

I wake up the same way I have for the past 3 weeks. With messy hair, slashes through my favourite pyjama shirt and a finger in my hand- well, it isn’t always a finger. Sometimes its an ear, a portion of his ugly sweater, his hat, once even his eyeball. You get the picture though. Unimpressed, I watch the finger turn to gunky, dirty dust. Then promptly get up and tiredly get out the vacuum cleaner to clean up the mess.

Once I’m done, I put the vacuum back in its cupboard down the hall, which at this point I could totally do just from muscle memory and no other senses due to how often this month I’ve ripped something of Freddy’s back out into the real world in my attempt to take him out and kill him off the clean way.

But, I take a deep breath and let it out, exhausted and resigned, as I pull on pants and search through my closet for a shirt to wear out today. I guess I’m going to have to do it the hard way.

Finally, I discard the ruined shirt and wrench on a clean, yellow t-shirt and leave my house.

___TIME SKIP___

“Hey, Bernard,” I beam towards the grassy haired barista. The café’s basically empty, apart from a group of teenagers watching Netflix and Disney plus on their laptops and phone sin the far corner, so I think we’re fine to talk. He looks up from the mug he was drying out, sees my expression and promptly scoffs. Immediately he starts down the bar, past the glass case with all the sweets inside including a delicious jelly slice with lavender for safety that I get when I come here for breakfast, rounds it, and comes all the way to stand very close to me. He holds up his pointer finger between us sternly, almost mad and I focus instead on his hair rather then his face. It really is grassy- not because he’s been playing footy which he likely was before he came to work and not just because its green. Its messy, and multiple shades of different, environmental green. Representing his element.

“Don’t you dare.”

I sigh, and roll my eyes as I sit down in a bar stool, successfully putting space between us as he doesn’t move. “Its kind of a dire situation.”

“A demon?” He doesn’t look at all like it would change his mind on the subject of my using magic if it were a demon. Which it is.

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that draws strength from attention, lets move on.” Again, I roll my eyes. Not at Bernard though, this time its Freddy. Yes, he totally is that kind of demon. Not even just because he needs people to believe he exists to work. He’s just an attention whore.

Bernard crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back, more than expressing his parents’ shared fire element. And, also, his cranky streak. “You will not use magic.”

“I’ve tried doing it the easy way. I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about your neighbours, and the rest of the known universe if you fuck up. Actually, scratch that. Unknown universe, too.”

“I’m not asking you for permission anyway. Just- come on, gimmie the book.” I hold out my hand, looking around for where he could possibly be hiding it. Cupboards? Behind the cupboards? Has he digitised it? He just continues to glower, and its so forceful that I lower my hand and pout. He’s always been the scary cousin in our family.

“Oh, you so are asking me for permission. You don’t know where the book is!” He sneers, and I deadpan deeply at his immaturity.

“Look, Ber, we’re grown adults. Grown! Ass! Adults! I can make my own decisions, now- where is the book?”

“No!”

“Gimmie!”

“I’m older than you, and I say no!”

“Berrrrrrrr- Oh hi Boyd.” I pause in glaring at my Bernard to look at his brother, Boyd walk by from the upstairs apartment, clipping the vizor attachment to his glasses as he’s going out. He looks boredly at me smiling at him and keeps going to the door with an old-fashioned bell fixed to the top.

“You’re here for the grimoire?” He asks, opening the door and turning over his shoulder, and I nod sweetly- he’s sure to be more helpful! “Yeah, Bernard lost it. Hid it so well even he cant find it anymore. Now, I have a date.” He leaves the, now very tense and cold café with a curt, “Later.”

Slowly… I turn to Bernard. He is now avoiding eyecontact. He misplaced… our families… century old… grimoire??! “Find. It.”

Having a change of heart, he heads behind the counter again with a lowered head. “Oof, I’m on it.”

It must take hours, before I give up looking alongside him and sit down to take a rest. The teenagers have gone by now, and Bernard turned the ‘Open’ sign on the front window around to say ‘Closed’. I don’t know how it happened, but at some point, I rest my head on the bench and the exhaustion from not getting full rest for weeks catches up to me, and I fall asleep.

“Back so soon?”

I jump. “Gah!” Turning around to where the voice came from and I see Freddy- clearly, not in a creative mood because otherwise he wouldn’t have appeared so quick. “Why are you here?!”

“This is my domain, sweetheart.” Freddy explains, something I already knew and he knows I already know and I groan.

“It’s the middle of the day! Can’t I have this one moment to sleep in peace??” A wide smile spreads across his face, and I slouch over. Course not. Oh god, I am so tired. Another yell escapes me though, exhaustion making me incredibly jumpy, when suddenly he appears beside me. Physical form and everything, I can feel the fuzz of his sweater on my arm. “Don’t touch me.” I flash him a glare, not daring him. Definitely not daring him- he’ll take it. Just telling him to back the fuck off because I’m tired not only from his unfaltering ability to keep me busy and working, even when I’m asleep, and also now because my dear older, moronic cousin has lost our grimoire which was entrusted to him, which I need to get rid of Freddy, in order to sleep and actually feel rested!

Oh, my goodddddd, I would do almost anything right now to dream about stupid normal stuff like flying, or running from an encroaching car, or falling. Even falling, which wakes you up. At least I can fall right back to sleep.

“Okay, now, see, if you tell me that, I’ll just wanna do the opposite! ~” The clawed glove nears my face and my right eye twitches, but I stand still there with my arms crossed and glare at it. The rusty, nearly black metal nearing my eyes, reflecting the sharp, gross grin on Freddy’s burnt face.

“So, its opposite day then?” I ask, humouring him because what else are you going to do? When he gets bored, he’s even more dangerous.

“Yep!” Visibly, the stripe sin his sweater switch places so its green and red, and not red and green. He thinks he’s funny.

And, clearly I’m exhausted otherwise I never would’ve fallen for that. “Then please touch me Fredrick.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, raucous laughter escapes him, and he holds his belly as he doubles over and laughs. I groan and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. I need to wake up. “Out of all the obnoxious murderers out there… “I got the worst of the lot.

“Yep, you got me. Now, let’s stop fucking around shall we? Let’s get to the good stuff!”

“Oh no.” I half groan, half whine in dread and fear. Suddenly, the fact that I fell asleep feels like stupidest move ever- at any time, he might kill me. Its just blind luck that he hasn’t felt like ending the game so far. But he could at any time, including this time.

Freddy disappears again, and I whip around to look for him. My heart starts to beat thunderously in my chest because nothing good has ever occurred when Freddy disappears. I’ve been shot, I’ve been crushed under a stone slab, I’ve been choked with 80’s twisted telephone phone cables- I’ve even been kissed. And every time, I get closer to dying. I lose oxygen, I lose blood, I lose morale. Every time I get hurt, Freddy takes me closer to death then before and I think I’m actually gone this time. He’s bored, I’m not enough anymore, the torture is over.

Which is both a relief and even more horrifying then anything else. Tears cluster in my eyes as time goes by and nothing happens. I just see the boiler room around me, everything tinted red and everything damp and shiny with grease and rust. I don’t want to die.

Suddenly, smoke starts to fill the room. Until I can’t see anything at all except the white in front of me and my hand if I would raise it, but I don’t. I just stay very still, afraid of what’s about to happen. “Fr-Freddy?” I call, weak and disappointing myself. I’m a fucking witch… but that doesn’t really mean much in this world. Not without the spell that I need from the grimoire that’s nowhere to be found. I’m a witch, and I’ve raised to think that means something, means I’m a force to reckoned with, but here I am being reckoned with and I’m useless.

The ground underneath me starts to vibrate, and the smoke slowly starts to clear.

I squint, but I can’t see much through the remaining smoke and the tears shielding my eyes except a bright light.

The vibrating gets worse, and I look down and notice that the smoke has cleared enough at the point to see what beneath my feet, and the realisation of what’s there makes fear swarm throughout every crevice of my being. Mind, body and soul.

Train tracks.

My head snaps up again to see the light, a train, barrelling closer and closer to me. It’s so loud now that I’ve realised, I’m about get his by a fucking steam train, that my ears pop and protest to the pain of it all. The train gets closer and there’s Freddy. The fucker. Wearing a conductor’s uniform and hanging out the side of the driver’s compartment. He grins and waives.

I try to use rational sense and move out of the way, but rope shoots out of the earth between the tracks and twists tightly over my shoes. I try to wrench my feet out of my shoes, panicking now as the train tracks are practically jumping, but the ripe starts to climb… higher and higher up and around my legs and my hip and my arms, until I can’t move at all. It’s so tight I can’t barely even breath- not that I’ll need to for much longer.

I brace myself, and squeeze my eyes shut against the now blinding, all-encompassing brightness of the trains light. And then the train hits-

“FOUND IT!”

I’m wrenched suddenly, and violently from my sleep on the counter and straighten up so vigorously that I nearly slip right off the bar stool. There’s drool on the bench from my sleep, my cheek feels stiff from resting on it for a while, and whip around to look at Bernard who’s standing beside me now with the leather bound, yellow paged book that he’s found. I snatch it from his fingers, dropping it on the bench and start frantically looking through it, eyes still filled with tears and now they start falling. I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the heavy sob that racks my back and shoulders and mouth from the shock and horror of what just nearly happened. I can still see fuzzy blue dots in my vision from the light, and my nose tingles because the train just touched. It smelled like smoke and coal and that’s still in my nose. Theirs white scrapes on my wrists from the rough rope.

“Y/N,” Bernard touches my arm and I don’t push him off, but I don’t respond, either. I barely notice him, too preoccupied with looking for the right spell. I need this to be over, that can’t happen to me again! I’m not brave enough for it. Another terrible sob forces its way from my chest and I feel half like curling into my cousins chest and crying my heart out and half like killing that bastard Freddy. Wrenching his entire nasty existence from unwritten history and tearing it so it will never be salvaged again.

The second half wins, as I go back through the book backwards, and this time find the spell. “Ow-Okay.”

“Y/N, take a moment- “

“No,” I snap. I nearly got h i t, by a t r a i n. A monstrous thing the same colour as Freddy’s blades. Bernard can’t understand that, but I sure as fuck can. Stammering, but sure, I start to recite the incantation under my breath. Slowly it gets louder, as words start to become harder to say and I need concentrate more. Latin mixes together into one big word, and its har don the best of days but when there’s expression magic involved, it takes an army. More.

And I am that, right now.

Bernard looks around as wind, not coming from an open door or window, starts picking up in this room and rushes to shut the curtains and block the rest of the world from seeing in. Napkins go flying, then the chairs topple over, and then finally the wind is so strong that coffee maker rips from the wall and smashes into the glass sweets case.

I don’t see it, because I’m still following the words in the book, but I hear it. But only just, over the terrible wind screaming through my ears. Finally, the spell reaches its peak and the air in front of Bernard and me, who has gotten back to where I am, opens up. Like someone took a knife and tore literally through the fabric of space and time and magic, revealing the familiar boiler room.

The words start to speak on their own. Whispering in the wind and my lips don’t even have to move, so I let Bernard take the book. Its all so chaotic, I don’t know how I know what to do. But I reach forward and just, lightly touch the hole and its like the magic knows exactly what I want.

Dirty dust, like what Freddy turns into when you bring out of a piece of him from the dream world that I’ve been vacuuming for the past weeks appears, connects together into the shape of a man and then twists together slowly, disturbingly like vines until it isn’t dust and vines anymore. Its burnt flesh and knitted, red and green cotton.

And he looks mad. “You bitch.” Is all he manages to say, but it’s got so much hatred and fury in it that I nearly get scared. I feel it creeped into my bones and organ in my chest.

But then I remember. This is my world.

And I don’t want him in it. “Get out.” I spit, and just like the world seems to crash. Eliminating an existence -anything. Much less a person, - is a lot of work and a big deal. It shouldn’t be possible at all, and I believe that. But I believe it like some who believe murder shouldn’t be possible.

But it is and sometimes it happens, in dire situations.

It feels like I’m being torn on the inside, and scraped clean on the outside- punishment, for doing such a thing. Something to make the world balanced for this.

And Freddy warps like The Scream or a computer glitch. Half of him gong up and the other half going down. Its horrifying sight and I’m in so much pain, but I make my eyes stay open.

And then everything goes black.

___TIME SKIP: A Week___

The whole week has gone by like dream. Not a Freddy dream. Not even a happy dream. Just, like its unreal. I don’t feel much, except a slow, soft blankness like when you’re totally out of it in class after a really, really bad day.

Its not particularly a bad feeling, not compared to the horrors I endured before. Its just like I need to rest, after I used so much power, and feeling so much in general.

Oh, and I have. I’ve been sleeping all the time. Day and night. It’s been uninterrupted and nearly… empty, feeling. Bizarly, I’m well aware now when I’m asleep that I’m dreaming. I’m lucid. Like when Freddy would be there, but without him. Its not exactly restful, but still. It’s better than the nightmares.

Right now, I’m going to sleep. Feeling tiredness expand and unconsciousness take over.

Immediately, I nearly jolt right awake again from fear. Nearly. But his hand grips onto my arm before I can.

Freddy’s right in front of me, smiling sharp like a much madder, pissed off the Cheshire cat. “Heya again sweetheart.” His voice sounds too real. His touch feels to real. This cant be- “It took a fucking lot. Pulled a few strings, don’t know how. Don’t ask. But I’m back. Don’t worry though, I’m not about to kill you. That was a real neat trick you pulled… “I jump, and whimper when the a blade on his glove touches my cheek, and he leans much closer.

“So, we have a lot to talk about.”

You didn’t think you could rid of this Slasher, did you?

#Request #Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot #Oneshot #Freddy Krueger #Expression magic

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rascalbeene · 6 years ago

Text

He was 12 when he really noticed Link. He knew what his best friend looked like, he just didn't spend too much time staring at him. That was weird. They were outside in a line with their classmates, lined up to go into the auditorium to witness the yearly talented show. His best friend had a crowd of kids around him, Rhett only knew Link was the one hidden by the high pitched squeal of his giggles that filled the warm night air that rung over the hum of conversation going on around them and the buzz of crickets.

He was tall enough to peer over shoulders and met Link's wide shining eyes, his arms flailing, hands moving as he told some story for the hundreth time that night. "Line is moving, son" Rhett's dad rested his hand on his son's broad shoulder as his eyes stayed locked on his friend who seemed to glow under all the attention. It was brief, the twitch at the corner of Link's lips as the crowd dispersed and left the smaller boy at his mom's side.

He was his friend again. He was his Link, staying at his side, hiding into the cool of Rhett's lanky shadow so they could sit together.

He was 17 when he walked out of the bathroom at a summer graduation party, scanning the tops of friends heads for the familliar dark brown hair. He heard that giggle that coursed through his veins, that he had memorized even as it started to mellow and deepen with years. Rhett followed it through the crowd. He ghosted the doorway to not interrupt Link's audience. They were wide eyed and enraptured as he talked with his hands and different voices, beaming under their praise and laughter.

"Rhett!" Link waved trying his attention "hey brother!" It took him a minute to pull himself back to the moment, to the room, where the crowd had parted like the Red Sea for him to take his rightful spot next to his best friend.

Link had changed the summer he went away. His jaw was sharper, the shadows under his eyes darker. He was weighed down with the promise of the future they were supposed to have all planned out. He noticed the fuzz along his jaw and the way the light slowly dimmed from his eyes. He wasn't HIS Link anymore, the high pitched giggles or wide eyes that always ran behind him for safety when Link was intimidated or scared. He just sometimes reached out to link his pinkie with Rhett's to remind his friend he was really still there.

He makes a living reacting to Link. They live in each other's pockets miles away from home. Link falls easily into his character, silly and absentminded to his gruff and serious. Link starts to become a blur of colors, too loud laughter and jokes that make Rhett roll his eyes. Sometimes his pinkie will lock with Rhett's under the desk as they film. Never more than a few seconds, its as grounding as a slight slip of accent or mischievous twinkle in his eye. His Link is still there, waiting for the camera to go off and everyone to go home.

He remembers in high school how they passed a joint back and forth to work up the courage to perform with the band as they wait in the darkness onstage. The air around them is thick with chatter and excitement, they had discussed doing this for years. First they traveled reciting their edited life stories for laughs and applause, then they slowly worked in songs from their past, eyes meeting as they sang Merle from slightly rusty memory. Some things you never forget.

This is them, now. He doesn't get a lot of time to really take in and appreciate the man who has been by his side since childhood. Link's laughter is still loud and sincere, his smile still crinkles the corners of his eyes in reaction to a roar of applause from the crowds that keep getting bigger and bigger. There's no joint now, pre-show. It's a quick squeeze of sweaty palms, a nervous laugh and the lights are up.

But opening night, he watches. The proud square of Link's shoulders as he steps forward to welcome the people who pay to see them banter like an old married couple. That twitch at the corner of his lips as he turns to get Rhett's attention. And for a brief moment, those wide glittering eyes that had made a home in his heart all those years ago.

#rhettandlink #rhett and link #link neal #ficlet #quick write #heart eyes #rhett mclaughlin #rhink #rhink fic #bffgoals #help with html #i am too old for this #sos

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hollandroos · 7 years ago

Text

Run To Me; Part Ten

Summary: Dad!Mob!Tom. Sequel to BAK but you don’t have to read that one first.

Run To Me: Series Masterlist!

Words: 4164

Read on Wattpad! + Playlist!

Warnings: Violence!! This also isn't’ very edited because I’m really sick and just wanted to get this up & go back to sleep lmao

Tom looks over, the blanket- more specifically the white duvet hung around your waist while the rest of you were bare. All except the band that sat on your finger and bralette covering your chest, the sunlight that crept in from where the blinds were left a crack open hitting the diamond directly. It shone brighter than any star, making his heart pick up faster then he swore it did when you were sat on his lap in that office chair.

“What are you looking at?” You ask, though Tom had seen that you were the one staring down at him lovingly first. He wasn’t about to argue.

He hums gently, looking over at you. Your head was tilted on a weird angle, sheer chiffon bralette comfortable for any size- the rosewood side ties for closure hanging below your breasts and he reaches up, toying with one of the straps. A gentle hand runs through his curls, fingernails carefully scratching his head and he sighs with content, something rare for the mobster.

“You, I’m looking at you.” His voice was still thick with sleep, eyes still fluttering open and shut every few moments and you’d admit that it was adorable. But in an instant, Tom would disagree.

Your cheeks heat up and it wasn’t because the bed was growing increasingly warm thanks to possibly Toms’ body heat, nor the fact that you’d been sitting up in the same position for at least ten minutes.

You smile, bare feet stretching out across the covered mattress and eventually over his thighs beneath the sheets. “You were stirring a lot in your sleep.”

“Was I?” He rearranges himself until his left ear was against the pillow, face towards you.

You nod, fingers running from his scalp to his jaw. “What were you dreaming about?”

The mobster, the king of lying and all that follows hesitated for a single moment. “I can’t remember.”

“Tommy…” You inch closer, one arm going around his bare bicep. Tessa stirs at the end of the bed, somehow managing not to be caught by Tom- either that or he let it pass. “C’mon tell me.”

Tom sighs, knowing you weren’t going to give up until you got it out of him and looks across the pillow, hues of white in the corner of his vision, blurred by you and he most definitely wasn’t complaining. “We had a family, you and me. And we were really happy together.”

The dream replayed in his mind and Tom presses to remember what he got to see, from the little boy with Y/H/C hair and his smile, lips stretching up as a giggle passed his lips- a reasonably tooth laugh at that. The boy's teeth were just beginning to peek through, gums still on show, however.

You let out a hum and blink when your eyelids grow heavy again. “We are happy together.”

“Not like this- it was more. We had a little boy, and a house- not as big as this but it was nice. And it was Christmas time too.” Tom brings your hand up to his lips and plants a gentle kiss on your ring finger, the diamond cool against his lips.

“You’re starting to sound soft.” A small laugh falls from your lips and Tom shakes his head, curls becoming static against the pillow. “I like it, ‘is normal.”

“Our life will never be normal,” Tom tells you truthfully, a hint of regret in his words.

You shake your head against the pillow as best you can, fully believing that his statement was a just untruthful, “It can be.”

“Do you want that?”

He wouldn’t admit it but he felt nervous as he waited for your answer, because Tom didn’t want to be the one to hold you back from a normal, safe lifestyle. With him you could be provided with money, possible but not promised security and a life of luxury- gifts pooling around your feet. Tom didn’t know that the only thing you needed was love and a little affection every now and then.

“Not really, I like this. It’s not perfect, but it’s us, you know?” You smile lopsidedly as the sun begins to stream in more vibrantly then before, pulling Tessa from her sleep.

You squeal as he pushes the sheets back before rolling over on top of you exposing the comfortable night bra as the sheets collect around your hips. He holds himself up using his hands, face was torn between serious and humoured as he sees you below him, messy hair sprawled over your eyes and cheeks.

One of his hands moves to trace the diamond cool against the bed sheets.

“This is our perfect and as long as you’re here with me then I’m okay,” Tom admits, voice just above a whisper so only you could hear it. They were words for you only. “You’re not getting cliche Tom again until our wedding day so take it all in while you can.”

“Believe me, I’m appreciating every second of it.”

Tom leans down but doesn’t have to move too much before his lips are on yours in a reasonably gentle, slow- yet loving kiss. They’re slightly chapped, the gentle stubble that was growing above his lips scratching your upper lip but you didn’t mind at all, sinking into the kiss. One of your hands reach up and wrap around his wrist where his hand was planted face down on the bed as his support, one leg creeping up until it crept around his waist.

They say that when you were angry, you saw red, when you were calm it was a pale blue. With Tom when you were happy and jumping around on cloud nine, you saw bright, contented yellow. He made you sunny, vibrant even, and left you with a fuzzy feeling in your chest that could only be described as the colour yellow.

The room was dimly lit by an overhanging light that barely worked, fuzzing in and out every few moments but Tom could still make out the man on the chair as clear as day and the bruises that speckled his face, near close to entering the final stages of healing and shook his head, agreeing with his brothers when they said that the damage he’d done last time wasn’t anywhere near what the man deserved.

He was surprised he didn’t slip on the floors, concrete that lined his warehouse basement wet with water that had slipped through the cracks during the storm. The mobster cracked his knuckles, something he’d made a habit of doing lately as a pure threat.

“Now, Aiden.” He taunted, not even finding the strength to grin wickedly at the man handcuffed to the old, rusty table. “Do I need to tell you what you’ve done or do you know?”

“What part?” Aiden sat on the edge of his seat, cuffs digging into his wrists and Tom would admit that he made sure Harry left them tighter than he usually wood. A thin layer of blood begun to settle around the outside of the cuffs, red hot.

The dealer was reasonably aware of his fate and he wasn’t planning to go out crying, or begging the man for his life.

Tom plants his hands on the side of the wooden seat, the thing creaking as he places most of his weight on it. “Planting drugs in Rosies’ fucking backpack.”

He was dangerously close to the man, eyes blown with anger as his hands grip the seat, knuckles turning a shade of white as he abuses the wood when in reality- he was dying to wrap his hands around the neck of the man in front of him. But good things take time.

“Was a pretty good hiding place, wasn't it?” the man grins. “I loved that kid and she definitely came in handy- I’d love to go back and pick up the rest of what I left there.”

“You’ll never, ever, go near my daughter again, or Y/N for that matter.”

“So you’re the reason she’s so fucked up?” Aiden laughed, despite the pain erupting from his wrist. “So that friend that died- it’s all connected to you? Should’ve seen it to be honest. What was his name again? Harrison?”

Tom swung his fist back, bringing it back around until it hit the expecting mans jaw with an explosive crack. It sent waves of satisfaction through him but just as quickly as it came, it was gone again and Tom wanted- no, needed more.

“You don't even deserve to say his name!” Tom boomed, ignoring the pain that erupted from his fists. “You’re thinking too highly of yourself here, remember where you sit.”

“I’ve been a better father then you’ll ever be.” Aiden spat, attempting to lunge forward in his seat only to be held back by the handcuffs. “You’re insane.”

“She almost got separated from her own mother and nearly died because of you!” Tom yells, words hitting each of the four walls. “If you really cared about Rosie- my daughter, then you would’ve looked after her instead of risking her life like that. What if she found the shit you left in her bag and thought it was something else?

“At least I was there. She knows me, does she know you? Or at least that you’re her father?” Tom stayed silent, stalking circles around the guy. “Her fourth birthday; we went to the movies and I paid for her ticket. Three weeks ago we went out for dinner and she told me all about her day and daycare and eventually asked me to go in for careers day-“

Tom clenches his fists as Harry watches from the corner with a raised brow as the scene unfolded before him.

“Shut the fuck up.” The mobster threatened, power slipping through his teeth.

Aiden tilted his head and spat out a mouthful of blood, staining the already reasonably grotesque floor. “Y/N’s birthday, Rosie and I went shopping for her and I helped her pick out a gift because Rosie asked me too. I may not have liked Y/N that much but that little girl was a blessing.”

“I swear to-“

Another mistake. Aiden cut Tom off. “You’re going to kill me so just do it already, but when Rosie asks where I am you’ll be the one to answer.”

Tom laughed, not believing the words that escaped the man's lips. “That girl doesn’t like you anymore then y/n.”

The music that slipped through the door made everything more intense, adding to the violent scene as the walls vibrated softly. Toms black shirt was stained with gentle splotches of crimson red as he wiped the blood off of his hand, the violent act making a shiver run down his spine- and it wasn’t a good one either.

“I was the one that put her to sleep some nights and made her breakfast when her own mother couldn’t even get out of bed.” Aiden falls back in the seat, back hitting the concrete wall and Tom took one last mental photo of the guy with his hair thrown around messily, matted together thick with blood and jaw bruised and bloody. That didn’t even begin to describe his injuries, however. Because that was all that Tom had caused.

The cuts that littered his bare chest were swollen, blood pooling around the guy's lap and Tom had to hand it to his brother. Still, Tom wanted to do worse- god, he wanted to put the guy through masses of pain before he even thought about ending it but he couldn’t. Series of guilt hit like waves and not because of what they’d done to the dealer- but instead how it would impact his daughter's life.

He had to think- what girl would want that kind of man for a father?

Tom spins around on his heels, sticking a bruised fist into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Harry, see to it. Call me when you find out who was behind the wheel.”

Harry kicks himself off of the wall, cocky smirk taking over as Aiden's eyes harden, back straightening as he tries to exert confidence but the mobsters could see right through him. He was petrified and so he should be.

“It’s not just me you know!” Aiden yells as Tom begins to walk towards the door, his back facing the dealer. “There’s more and he’s watching you- more so them, that little family of yours.”

Tom stops, hand gripping the door handle tightly, cool metal stinging his hands that were stained with the guy's blood. “Who are you talking about?”

Aiden felt satisfied knowing that he’d caught Toms attention and wanted to continue taunting, using very little information and dropping vague hints that he knew would pester the guy for days- weeks until something else happened. Then it’d eat him alive.

“He’s proud, but sees you changing for them and wants to help.”

Tom turned back to the door, tearing it open to be met with the sound of music blaring, pestering laughs and doesn’t even turn back to look at his brother as he mutters the words.

“Harry- do it.”

Your phone sat quietly on your lap and you’d admit that you’d pressed the on button more times then you can count- despite knowing that if someone rang the screen would flash a picture of Rosie.

To say that you were feeling tense and anxious was an understatement, still finding yourself paranoid that maybe Tom hadn’t done what he could’ve and police officers were waiting on your front porch- choosing to use that to express how upset he still was after everything that had happened. Or that you’d asked for too much and he simply couldn’t comply.

He had been genuinely nice, staying until the very last second last night, talking to Rosie about daycare and her favourite tv shows and he didn’t get annoyed when Rosie rambled on about why Mulan was better then Cinderella, despite the fact that halfway through her debate she began to make absolutely no sense. He even let Rosie colour in one of his tattoos- the same tattoos that you were only seeing for the first time but already spotted a favourite, tracing the gentle lines with your eyes while Rosie stuck her tongue between her teeth and used a felt tip to doodle.

Now, however, children bounded around the waiting room, laughs and cries simultaneously causing your head to ache and you were almost thankful that your little one was sitting beside you quietly- for the most part. She was dressed in merely a simple grey sweater that was a size too big, causing it to fall around her thighs and covering her cast for the most part and a pair of black leggings with stars on them that clung to her legs. Her feet were protected by a pair of yellow booties, double knotted at the front.

The words on the paper seemed foreign to you, containing information about her diagnostics, the incident itself and the names of her doctors. You tried your best to make sense of the information the doctors had given you but it was still processing, even with your daughter littered in injuries which were mostly just cuts and bruises.

“Roo, you know you can’t play with that.” You scold your daughter as she fiddles with her cast, her light blue painted nails picking at the plaster. You’d painted them last night when she couldn’t sleep after she demanded that if she had a hot pink cast on, that she needed something to match.

“Bored.” She mutters, kicking her feet around as you sign the discharge forms.

There were plenty of children she could’ve played with, toys she could of figured out how to use scattered around the hospital floor but instead the little girl wanted to sit next to you and play with your phone- not on, with. She never did show much interest in toys that weren’t stuffed, only ever using them as a coping mechanism when it came to stressful situations- like right now.

You swore the stuffed animal hadn’t left her side or her hand more then once- and that was the time that it rolled off of the bed while you were asleep and she almost injured herself even more trying to jump off of the bed to grab it.

You see a pair of legs stop in front of you and look up to see Tom staring back down, wearing a simple pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. His hair was still wet and he smelt thickly of cologne and you smile, placing the pen back onto the paper- a clipboard holding it together.

“Hey, you made it?” You say, cringing lightly at your awkwardness. Tom would be lying if he said that he noticed.

“Couldn’t miss out on seeing this one get released.” He moves down, ruffling Rosies’ curls and she giggles happily, pain medications working. “Plus, you’ve gotta get home somehow, right?” Tom holds up the car keys and shakes them creating a gentle ringing sound and Rosie tugs on his pant legs.

She points to the cast, already riddled with small scribbles from hearts to flowers that your daughter had attempted to do while you napped this morning. The girl was independent for the most part, brain always turning with a hundred and one new ideas that she’d eventually act on while you were asleep or busy.

“I’ve just got to finish this then we can go.” You continue to work your way through the paperwork as Tom gets down on two knees to admire Rosies scribbles that she seemed fond of. “Thank you again, this means a lot.” You couldn’t even look him in the eyes as you spoke to him, instead of keeping your gaze focused on the paper.

You were grateful because Tom taking you home meant not relying on an uber or taxi. Two things that were hard to even think about but he didn’t know that. Even thinking about sitting in a car with a total stranger- You had the feeling that you’d look like a weirdo with your hand gripping the door handle the entire ride, back straight as you tensed with every bump and turn. So when Tom offered, you weren’t going to turn down the offer. Despite still worrying that this was all an act- because his forgiveness was almost too good to be true- or was that just your mind playing tricks?

He nods, taking out a black vivid and drawing a heart on Rosie’s cast beside the one that you’d drawn. “Of course. Besides- I doubt Rosie would’ve wanted to wait outside in the cold for a taxi.”

Tom picks her up, Rosie squealing lightly as he does so and she immediately wraps her non-broken arm around his shoulder. You stand up as Rosie wriggles around in his arms and Tom savours every second of it before he gets hit with guilt, Aiden's words replaying in his mind like a merry go round and suddenly he wants to hold her tighter, to prevent her from ever getting hurt again.

“There’s more and he’s watching you- more so them, that little family of yours.”

It could’ve easily been the words of a soon to be dead man trying to taunt his killer- a way of him leaving his mark but Tom was paranoid and had been ever since he slid into his car, hands gripping the wheel with a deathly grip as he almost sped to the hospital.

He tightens his grip around Rosie until she stops moving and just settles happily, pleased to be getting some attention and Tom slips his bottom lip between his teeth. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?” You ask, pen tapping against the clipboard. You wet your lips as children barge past, toy dinosaurs in hand.

Tom opens his mouth to tell you- most definitely not in the best setting nor best time but luckily for you, you’re interrupted by a nurse.

“Ms Holland?”

“Y/L/N.” You correct her for the third time since you’d arrived at the hospital and Tom has to grit his teeth as you say it like second nature, chest tightening.

“Right- sorry,” the nurse apologises, removing his hands from the front pocket of her scrubs. “Did you finish filling out the forms?”

“Yeah.” You hand them over to the waiting nurse and he sends you a smile, tucking it under his arm and the pen in his upper pocket.

“There was one more thing I had to talk about with you, and that’s these-” He moves to Rosie, sending Tom a smile before reaching over to Rosies non broken arm, sliding her sweater up that was previously covering her little hands and makes the little marks- more so on her upper arm clear. They were healing and while you were proud of Rosie for not hurting herself lately, you sent the nurse a glance as he looks back to you, waiting for him to talk. “Can you tell me who did this? A few of the other nurses are just wondering because Social se-”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business-” You snap, defensively standing next to Tom whos eyes harden. If you were any closer you could’ve taken his hand. Your heart was beating erratically and it was partially due to your proximity that was closer then it had been in years, and partially due to the nurses question that had struck a nerve.

“It sort of is when we see a patient with injuries like these that occurred prior to her incident.” He takes a step back as Tom eyes him, sending a threatening gaze that made him tense, previous demeanour forgotten. “We just need to make sure that she’s okay and not in any trouble at home.”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish and you grip the ends of your shirt for support, Rosie's’ eyes falling from you to the nurse to Tom as the question rakes your brain and the little girl feels too drowsy to answer, so only rests her head on Toms' shoulder, curls tickling the side of his neck.

Tom sticks a hand into his back pocket, pulling out a card and handing it to the man who takes it hesitantly.

“I-” You start.

“If you have any issues then you can call me here- our girl is fine and if you or your co-workers don’t believe that then I know someone that can help.” He interrupts, feeling Rosie begin to drift off in his arms, gripping the teddy beneath his arms to keep it from falling to the floor as she sticks her thumb between her teeth.

The nurse's lips curl up in a smile and he suddenly looks uncomfortable, rocking back and forth on his heels as he sticks the card in his pocket. “Thank you Ms Y/L/N and…”

“Mr Holland.” He mutters.

He seemed like a nice guy but as tired and paranoid as you were and after the events that Tom had experienced that day, he was on his last nerve, brain ticking down like a bomb ready to explode- but not at either of you. His fist ached slightly as it held Rosie up, memories of earlier events haunting him.

The nurse sends you both a wave as he begins to walk away, form beneath his arm. “Mr Holland.” He corrects. “Have a nice day.”

The second he’s out of sight, you turn to Tom who still held a sleeping Rosie, her lips parted slightly and fingers hanging between her teeth. Her sleeve had been pulled back by Tom and you were thankful considering you were about to walk out into the cold and the last thing Rosie needed now was to get the flu again.

“What was on that card?” You say, hands resting on your hip.

“Just a few important details.” He shrugs.

You take his word, partially not wanting to know what was on it and ask; “So, what was it that you wanted to tell me?”

Tom shakes his head, suddenly not wanting to talk about it. But he knew he’d have to deal with it somehow and he wasn’t willing to leave everything to the last second this time.

“I forgot.”

Toms life was a neverending rollercoaster ride- with ups and downs that he never asked for. But this... the sleeping girl in his arms was an up and for a mere moment he was allowed to sit at the just relax, but just as soon as he was able to take a breathe he was flung back into chaos that he fought to control, his strong demeanour begging to collapse.

Something tugged at him, whether it be Aidens words or a hunch but things were about to get worse.

Part 11!!

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