#to pitch black wilderness

[waywardstation]

I booted up Pokemon Masters the other day and was greeted by Ingo and his "I wish I had your energy this early in the morning." dialogue and right next to him was Dawn complaining about mornings being a hassle... I smiled at that. both of these dorks are pretty similar.

I also like to think that one of Dawn's evening quotes, the one where she talks about walks in the moonlight, implies that she isn't too fond of the dark. she says it's less scary with a Pokemon around.

It would be cool if Akari has similar feelings about the dark and having Ingo and/or her Pokemon around (especially Ember) makes night surveys/travels much easier for her.

I love that pokemas implies Emmet is a morning person while Ingo is not. And haha I’ve never gotten that morning dialogue with Dawn before, but I have gotten the night walks dialogue!

I think that dialogue implying she’s scared of the dark is really funny, because in another line she will also explicitly say it’s exciting to have adventures in the dark. Like it scares her but she also thinks it’s fun haha.

If Dawn is scared of the dark, it would be very hard I think to adjust from living in well-lit and generally-populated areas after dark, going to Hisui where it is pitch black outside the settlements once the sun goes down. I have gone camping at the beach and in the mountains many times in my life, and the wilderness gets DARK once the sun goes down, and all you have is your tent.

Perhaps it’s good my Dawn/Akari picked Ember as her starter, and often hangs around Ingo haha. I can’t imagine night surveys would be easy if she deals with worries like that. Especially since she can’t really swim. She cannot afford to fall into a river just because she can’t see it!

[petew21-blog]

Swapcation

I can't believe I finally did it. I was so afraid to use my powers I got and now look at me.

A fat kid like me would never walk around like this. Parading around

I still feel guilty though

14 hours ago:

My family spoke about receiving my powers for many years. They all got their chance for a few years when they were young but one day their power run out when they got too old. It took a few years for each person.

But now I was the youngest out of our family and they all were looking forward to use my powers to swap them into younger bodies. I hated this idea, cause they usually picked a family they knew and replaced them. What did my family do with the other swapped family are you asking? You don't wanna know.

And that's why I escaped the night before my family got their hands on me. I couldn't let another family get killed of like so many before. I just have to swap soon enough before my family finds me a tries to use me for themselves. Unfortunately it won't be easy, cause after centuries of swapping, they got themselves into the higher class and got enough money to do whatever they wanted.

I ran through the forest with my backpack and got to the nearest road. It was the middle of the night and there weren't cars nearby. I walked for an hour and arrived to a 24/7 diner. Perfect. I can hitchhike from here.

The only three people in the diner were the chef, waitress and some guy. He looked like a bussiness man coming from some trip. Sipped his coffee, maybe heading somewhere and trying to get some cofein to not fall asleep behind the wheel.

I aproached him:"Hey, I was just wondering if you were taking hitchhikers by any chance?" I asked with a shaky voice.

He looked at me with his exhausted eyes:"Where are you heading? Got a name kid?"

"North," I exclaimed, " and the name is Kenneth. Nice to meet you." I lied, not using my real name.

I saw a spark in his eyes. Maybe it was just a coincidence. "Really? North? There isn't anything but wilderness for miles." I didn't respond. And just nodded. He continued:"Well we got a lot to talk about then"

We headed to the car. He was driving a black Toyota. That's all I could say about that car. I knew shit about cars

His car was clean, but he had a lot of bags in the trunk. Probably from the business trip, I thought.

An hour of smalltalk about my life and himself followed. His name was Matthew, and he worked as a marketer on west coast. He quit university a few years ago and went on to get more money. From the talk all I could notice was the way his hands moved, his beautifully manly hands. His biceps was carefully wrapped around by the blue short sleeve of his T-shirt. I could only imagine what it would be like to kiss his beard and continue to his chest. Burry myself there. I wondered if he was hairy there just as his arms were.

As I was dreaming about this beautiful specimen I didn't even notice that he made a few slight turns. As he kept talking and I was admiring him, out of the pitch black forest a diner emerged. The same diner we came back from.

I looked at him horrified

"You didn't think that your parents would let you get away? Sorry for the change of your plans for the vacation, but your family needs you and I was promised a lot of money. So I gotta get you back."

Fuck. No. I can't let this happen. I can't go back. I gotta find a way out of here.

The doors were locked, so there was no way I was getting out of there. Begging didn't seem like a valid option. I noticed the time 2:09. It's my birthday. I wonder. If this doesn't work then I am dead. If I don't do anything my family will use me. I can't let the happen.

I concentrated hard enough. I have never swapped before, but I knew how from my family. They all went through it many times.

I felt warmth coming straight from my head, following to my hands.

We were few miles from my home

Now or never

I jumping at him. My right hand grabbing the wheel and turning it to the right. My left hand grabbing his shoulder.

A moment of darkness. For a short glimpse I saw my own face shocked and screaming. Then we hit the tree.

I got out of the car as soon as possible. My body didn't move. I killed him. I did the same thing, like my family to all the others.

I ran to the backseat, grabbed my backpack a ran striaght to the forest. I could hear sirens in the distance. I have to run now.

Present

I think it has been far enough for now. The forest ened with a beautiful large meadow between two massive mountains. Sun already shined and I could slow down for a minute.

I took off my ripped shirt and jeans. If someone saw them they would think that a bear attacked.

In my view were now two beautifully sculpted hairy pecs and even more beautiful abs. I went through every ridge my fingers found. The skin was tigh and warm. After the run I completely forgot I was now Matthew. Not Jake anymore. But Matthew. Beautiful hot sexy Matthew.

I spoke out. What a manly voice I now possess I though. My hand touching my neck and the other my lips and beard as I spoke. I smelled my armpit. The stentch of sweat was extremely strong but erotic. I went to admire my new hairy legs. I slowly started from my strong thighs, through the thick carpet of hair covering them, following to my new feet. I took off the shoes. My feet are massive now.

The last thing I didn't see yet was already awaiting hard. I got completely naked. There I was. A man! A hot sexy man. Sculpted like a statue with a hard and large dick in hand. I jerked off slowly and with my other hand I kept on exploring the already touched areas. I went on to masturbate rapidly just until the streams of cum kept pouring out off me.

I stood there smiling, laughing.

And then the clarity hit. I took Matthew's life. I did that to stop my family, but that didn't make it easier.

There was no going back now. I took my backpack and the rest of my clothes that weren't destroyed, hoping I would get a chance to get some on the way.

"I am Matthew Daniels and I am on a vacation. I am Matthew."

I went into the beautiful nature to continue my journey. I still feel guilty. Maybe the feeling will pass. I hope...

Part 2:

[edgeray]

Vixen

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

A/N: Last Arlecchino post before I go back to classes. 😿This is a hybrid au! blurb from my poll, and it's likely I won't make a oneshot out of this idea. It's still a really cute concept, so maybe I'll make another blurb of this concept or another hybrid au! idea. concept. Shoutout to @megistusdiary for this adorable idea of Artic Fox Arlecchino! (Love you CEO of Arlecchino!) For those of you guys that weren't entirely... pleased with my 'Arlecchino is not a person' blurb I offer this piece in favor of having my life spared. Content Warning: Pretty OOC for Arlecchino, mentioned but not graphic injury, 2.2k words

Arlecchino is as beautiful as snow.

It's the first thing you've noticed when your eyes laid upon the hybrid Harbinger. Beneath the silky snow-white fur and graceful, cordial appearance, you recognize that a predator laid underneath her exterior; a feral fox ready to lash at anything that so much as touches what was deemed hers. You don't let her sleek, fluffy coat distract you from her red-crossed eyes or her black claws.

Still, it is futile to deny her beauty.

You recall your first meeting with her in Snezhnaya, trudging through its frosty forests in nearly knee-deep snow. You don't quite remember what your purpose for being there was, though you ventured out to the wilderness behind your home often with no real purpose. Snow crunching underneath your boots, you admire the pristine, white landscape that no other place in Teyvat could display.

Here, your sight is met with a frost-covered plane, a frozen river cutting between you and a forest, the silhouette of a grand mountain behind the conifers. The sun hangs low, just above the peaks of the mountain, painting the sky as a gradient of topaz oranges and honey yellows. The only noise that fills the air is the whispers of the occasional winter breeze, blowing through your hair and making you shiver. Captivated by this picturesque scene, you simply stand and observe what's around you, your stare unbreaking.

That is until your ears pick up on a noise, a soft whine in the distance. You can tell it's not human-like, more like a cry that a puppy would make, but nonetheless, you're curious. There's another similar sound, this one more faint, but you let your ears guide you to the source of the noise until you near the edge of another wooded area of the wilderness.

What your eyes set on shocks you. A relatively large white blob sits amongst red patches of snow around. Is that blood? Approaching closer, you realize it's a rather large animal with white fur, and you assume that it's a Snezhnayan Snow Wolf from its size, though it's hard to tell with its back turned away. It's struggling to stand up fully; one of its hind legs appears to be injured given how it's not putting as much weight on it when it limps through the snow. You watch it struggle a little, wary of approaching a wild animal especially one of that size before you witness it collapse. Not intent on just observing the poor creature, you walks towards it, making your presence known so as to not startle it abruptly.

It whips its head and locks eyes with you. It is then, you chillingly discern, that this is no ordinary Teyvat creature. It's bigger than what wolves can grow up to, and its ears and tails don't match that of a wolf. Its ears are shorter in height and more triangular and its tail is much thicker than the average wolf's. Notably, on its legs, the fur darkens from white to pitch black, the color encompassing its feet entirely. This is something unseen in any snow creature you've come across. But most striking of all is its gaze. Red pupils with ebony eyes matching its feet, it watches you calculatingly.

You expect it to growl or snarl or make any sort of noise a wild, cornered creature would, but you get nothing besides continued staring. It's unsettling, but it should be a good thing that it hasn't perceived you as a threat yet, right. Regardless though, you still try to verbally communicate with it.

"Hey, I'm just here to help okay? I won't hurt you. If I do, you can, I don't know, bite my face off or something?" You awkwardly reassure it as you kneel beside the animal. It simply tilts its head to lock eye contact, and you half-expect it to bite you without warning.

Although it feels pointless to talk to a wild animal, you ask, "Can I touch you?" Expectedly, there's no response, but you take it as permission. You place a tentative hand over its fur, brushing your hand through its fur. It's incredibly soft, almost like how you'd imagine what touching a cloud feels like. It's a light and immaculate coat. But you didn't come here just to pet it.

"You have a really pretty coat," you compliment the fox(? Let's stick with that for now), before your fingers trail down to where the blood originated. It's a clean, deep laceration across the length of its back leg. What could have injured it like this? There's no other marks on the leg, so it can't be a claw from another animal. This was a precise cut, something that only a human can do.

"Did someone do this to you?" You wonder out loud in a sorrowful tone. What kind of human could harm such a beautiful creature? Unbeknownst to you, its ears twitched in response.

You get to work treating the wound with the emergency equipment you always carried when you ventured. There's no resistance or protest from canine, and you question if this is really an animal you're treating. How it hadn't budged one bit as you cleaned its wound, you're not sure, but you're just glad it hasn't shown one sign of aggression towards you. If you clean it and allow the skin to heal, the cut will likely heal independently. Once you've wrapped the final bandage around its leg, you glance at the fox's eyes again.

Not even once did it stop watching you.

You try to comfort yourself from the disturbing fact by observing how cute it is and imagining what it would be like to snuggle with it. It's when you notice the sun was setting, and dusk is approaching quickly. This typically wouldn't be a problem, but as you increasingly grew worried, a distinct problem struck out. You're lost.

"Well, shit."

Guess you have to set up camp. You hate the thought of having to spend the night out here, but you have no choice. You won't be able to make out anything soon from how dark this place gets. It's not your first time doing so, but you hate it still. With the remaining minutes of sun you have left, you gather as many sticks and branches as possible before you light them with a match, creating a campfire. You lay a little close to the fox, which seems to have also decided to make the campfire its resting place for now.

You cocoon yourself with a thick blanket.

"You'll keep me safe, right...?" You ask of the fox. No response. How very assuring.

Despite the bundles of fabric purposed for helping with extreme temperatures, you find yourself still shivering. You're cold, not to the point of frostbite, but your form can't stop trembling, your teeth chattering.

"It's too fucking cold for this shit," you groan, hugging yourself for extra warmth and curling into a fetal position. As you curse yourself for getting lost, you hear a shuffle, and the crunch of snow. Before you can even search for the origins of the sound, you feel a warm, large weight against your back--it's something soft. You look over your shoulder to see white fur and then look back to where the fox was originally: it's no longer there. Instead, it's pressed against you, sharing its body warmth with you.

"Mmm... good kit," you tiredly drawl as you absorb its heat greedily, enjoying the texture of its coat. It makes falling asleep easy.

Before you drift to sleep, you swore you heard a human, feminine voice purr from behind you.

"Annoying little vixen."

When you wake up, you expect to be met with white--white snow and fur. You are only met with one of those. Your eyes adjust to the pricking sunlight that stab into your vision. Surprisingly, you're warm even with the chill that you feel cascade against your cheeks. Memories of the night prior start piecing together. You still feel the fox's presence, though, strangely, the weight behind you doesn't seem nearly as soft or large as you remember. And something is draped around your midsection. You look down, expecting to a fur-covered limb.

Instead, it's a human arm that is wraps around your form, holding flushed against a person and your heart skids to a stop. The forearm is black with gold and ebony markings on its surface, but the dark color fades into pale skin. Is this person even human? A humanoid? A hybrid? With your rising panic, you become increasingly more aware of the presence that has you encaged in their embrace. You can't turn to look who is behind you in fear of waking them up--you don't know what they'll do to you once they're awake.

The soft snoring behind your ear and the warm breath brushing against your nape makes you shiver. However, what you do notice is how warm their body is; they exude a body heat that's abnormal. Do they produce their own heat from within? You know of very little creatures that can do that, let alone humans. Maybe an external source? Like a vision?

Then a sudden thought comes to you. Has this person been... sleeping with you to keep you warm? Is this person somehow the fox you helped? Deciding to risk it, you twist your head to look over your shoulder.

Red-crossed pupils glare back at you and your entire form freezes. Faced with perhaps the most gorgeous woman ever, a pale, unblemished face framed by ivory hair and some ebony strands appear before you.

"You're awake," her gruff voice comes out and the tips of your ears burn from being caught awake.

"Y-yes," you stammer out, still trying to recover from the shock. "Thank you for keeping me warm."

She hums in response before unfurling her arm from your body and standing up. Immediately, your body misses her warmth and you shudder, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. You sit up with her and it's then that you realize that she is indeed a hybrid. The same ears from the fox last night matches those on her head, and there's a tail that swishes lightly from behind her.

You take the time to admire her clothes, the question of where she got them slipping from your mind. She dons a marble white and slate gray jacket over a corset-type shirt with black and a matching gray and wears black pants. Her outfit reminds you of similar attire to Snezynayan nobles. What is someone of her status out here? Something about her seems vaguely familiar, though you don't quite know why.

"You're the... fox from last night," you dumbly state.

"Correct."

"But you're a human now."

"Astute observation," she huffed with a bit of mockery in her voice and you chuck snow in her direction.

"I've never seen a hybrid before, cut me some slack!" You snap back in faux anger. You let out a sigh, before you flick your attention to her leg. You can't see the wound because of her leggings, but you presume that it's still there.

"Who hurt you before?" You rasp out, corner eminent in your words and expression.

"That's not of your concern," she answers in a curt manner, making you wince.

You bite your bottom lip, a bit frustrated from the quick shut refusal, but you know she shouldn't pry. For as beautiful as she is, both in her human and fox form, you know just from the unsettling... sensation she emitted that she was dangerous, not to be disturbed or poked to much. You figure you should probing her on what led to this situation.

"Can I know who you are?" You question instead.

The fox hybrid steeps in silence for a few moments. Her facial muscles softening just the bit, the red flare in her eyes glowing. Then, a crack in her hardened expression, a small smile graces her lips.

"Arlecchino."

Bonus (Content Warning: VERY Suggestive. Like the closest thing to a smut I'll get.)

"Arlecchino."

"Mmh?"

"I need to get up."

"Just a little longer, kit."

"Arle, I love you, but I will kick you."

"With what functioning legs?"

"Is this why you wanted to dick me down? So you can harass me with no consequences?"

"Exactly."

You grit your teeth, trying to peel her arms off of your bare form, but the fox hybrid persists, keeping you glued to her as she nibbles gently on the skin of your nape. To emphasize her hold, her tail curls around one of your legs, its grasp tight and ensuring you can't go anywhere.

"Annoying little vixen," you groan, pulling the covers off of the two of you.

Arlecchino purrs into your shoulder, and her hands trail from your midsection down to your hips. Her tail caresses your inner thigh and you shudder.

"Again?" You gasp in dulled surprise as you feel her rise and she flips your body over to be beneath her. One blackened claw hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with hers and pressing your hand into the mattress behind you. The other hooks underneath one of your legs, raising the leg over her shoulder.

"Of course. After all, I need to ensure you take my kits."

[ozarkthedog]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐏𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

summary: hitchhiking is especially dangerous during the outbreak.

chapter warnings: 18+ only. mdni. dark!joel miller x rescued fem!reader x dark!tommy miller. dubcon → noncon. set a few years after the outbreak and before they meet tess. mention of dead bodies and guns. no beta.

word count: 1414

author’s note: I just want to be their plaything ☺️ this part is pretty tame fyi but the following chapters will be intense.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

No one dies from love Guess I'll be the first Will you remember us? Or are the memories too stained with blood now?

You curse your car as it breaks down halfway to your destination. A town on the outskirts of the state that supposedly was a safe haven. As smoke billows from the hood, you sling on your backpack and head out on foot.

The scenery was the same mile after mile. Carnage mixed with bountiful greenery. Burnt, dismantled bodies no longer empty vessels as flowers and weeds filled the cavities.   

A vulture circles the darkening sky above you as the low rumbling of a truck catches your attention. You turn on your heel towards the sound as it echoes up the road, growing closer.   

It was rare to run across friendly folk. Everyone was trying to survive. Doing things they never thought they’d do and that included yourself.

You knew you were unlikely to survive another few days out in the wilderness with no food or water. Taking a chance on whoever was driving was your only hope. Your hand drops to the gun strapped to your hip. It holds only 3 bullets but no one has to know that. 

The truck slows to a stop and idles. The dim headlights cut through the evening haze and make it hard to see the driver but you hold your ground. There could be a little old lady behind the wheel (unlikely) or a massive motherfucker has his rifle trained on your forehead. 

You raise your hands hoping the little sign of submission will help your cause. You need to find shelter soon if this is going to go south.

The driver’s window rolls down. It’s dark inside the cabin but you can make out the driver’s face as he lights a cigarette. A flicker of orange gives you just enough time to see brown eyes and a head full of dark, loose curls.

Smoke billows from the window as a man leans an elbow on the frame. The silver moonlight paints an eerie haze over the scene, highlighting just enough to know he didn’t have a gun on you.

“What’s this now? You tryin’ to get killed or somethin’?” He asks, a sly smirk tugging on his lips. 

His pointed eyes rake up and down your body and spies your side piece as he takes a heavy drag on his cigarette before flicking the hot embers away. 

“I- My car-” You start but trip on your tongue from the nerves building in your belly.

He looks up and down the road then back at you. “You alone?” 

You nod. “I’m not looking for anything but a ride to the next town.”

The man tongues his cheek in thought before looking to the right. “Whaddya’ think?” 

Shit. There was someone else in the truck.

“She looks nice enough.” The driver mutters ominously. His eyes never leave yours as he takes another drag on his cigarette.

You shift on your feet and swallow down the notch in your throat.    

“Sure.” A deep voice rumbles from the pitch-black passenger seat. “Why not.”

The driver grins and lets out a little holler. “You heard him, girl,” he hooks his thumb over his shoulder. “Hop in.”

Relief washes over you like a hot bath. “Thank you. I’ll give you anything you want from my pack as payment.” You offer as you open the back door behind the driver.

“Now hold on a minute, Sugar.” The driver raises a hand. “Give me your gun.”

Fuck. You knew it was too good to be true.

“How about I give you the bullets?” You counter with a half smile, not wanting to part with your gun even if it was unloaded.

The driver shakes his head. “No can do. The gun or no ride.”

You grit your teeth and weigh your options which are bare minimum at best just as the raspy screech of a clicker sounds in the distance.

“I’m taking off in 5 seconds whether you’re with us or not.” He informs and settles a hand on the shift.

Another screech echoes into the night forcing you to unholster your gun and shove it at the man before jumping in the backseat of the pick up truck.

“Good choice.” He flicks his cigarette onto the pavement and puts the truck in gear. 

The dimly lit cabin reeks of grime and gunpowder. There’s a sack filled to the brim on the seat next to you. You assume it’s weapons or food as your eyes flick to the front seat and meet the grim stare of the passenger.

He’s large; the flannel shirt he’s wearing tugs on his bouldering shoulders as he shifts in his seat to keep an eye on you. His salt and peppered jaw sets in a hard line. “You gotta name?”

He’s unnerving as he stares you down. You squirm but do your best to put on a brave face as you tell him your name. The passenger's jaw twitches but he remains stoic as he keeps his eyes trained on you. 

You couldn’t stand the unnerving silence despite the man’s intimidating presence. “How far are we from the next town?” You ask, timidly.

“‘Bout a day's drive.” The driver says, flicking his eyes to look at you in the rearview mirror.

Your heart plummets. “Shit.” 

“Not to worry. You can stay the night with us.” The driver suggests, sending his partner a smirk.

“That wasn’t the deal.” You argue, instinctively reaching for your gun only to have your hand brush your empty hip.

“You’re not really the one to be calling the shots, now.” The passenger hums before patting the empty seat between the two men. “Join us up front.”

“I’d rather stay back here.” You quip while scanning the back seat for any kind of makeshift weapon. 

“I wasn’t asking.” The older man warns as he cocks your gun, pointing it at you.

Tears fill your eyes but you don’t let them spill as you shakily raise your hands. The man keeps the gun trained on you as he shifts closer to his door to make room. “Climb over.” He commands. “Slowly.”

You quickly nod and do as he says. It was awkward climbing over the bench seat. You try not to bump the two burly men as you settle in between them but with the lack of space your limbs brush their arms and jean clad legs.

Even with the open view of the road through the windshield, you’ve never felt more confined. The passenger slides an arm around the back of the seat and turns his body towards you. “Ain’t this nice, Sweetheart?” 

“The name’s not, Sweetheart.” You seethe through gritted teeth. 

The two men chuckle at your feeble attempt at coming off stronger than you really are. “We’ll see about that.” The older man muses.

You spy your gun as he casually rests it on his knee. You wonder how long you’d have to wait before making a move to grab it.

A harsh hand suddenly grips the back of your neck making you cry out. “Don’t even think about it.” He growls and lifts the gun, pointing it towards your body. 

“Alright. Alright.” You gasp, your throat constricts until nothing but a whimper slips through.

“God damn. You make some pretty noises.” The driver says while pinning your stare and rubbing a callous hand over his crotch.

You want to vomit. This can’t be happening. You needed to find a way out fast. 

“Can see your mind working, Sweetheart.” The passenger claims your attention when he tips your chin towards him with the barrel of your gun. “Don’t think too hard or this won’t end well for you.”

Ice gathers in your veins. You can barely hold the man’s stare as tears fill your eyes. 

“It’d be a hell of a waste to dump this sweet body.” Lust filled eyes trail down your quivering frame as he lets the threat linger. “But it ain’t no skin off our backs.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as your heart beats against your chest. “Don’t be scared, Sweetheart.” The passenger thumbs at the wetness with a soft coo. “You’re in safe hands.”  

He tucks you into the crook of his body despite your weak protest. He smells of cedar and gun power as he cages you into his side. 

The truck veers off the road suddenly. It follows a long winding dirt path that eventually leads to a small cabin surrounded by trees.

The driver lays a hand on your knee making you twitch. “Welcome home.” 

💌 send me mail - feel free to scream at me :)

[ridreamir]

How about some head cannons for blue berry academy students befriending a new student reader who turns out to be a faller? The reader is from our world and does have at least some memory loss.

And so I might have turned it into a fic and not a list of HCs... lemme know if you want me to rewrite it lol -- it was getting kinda long so this might just be a part one of two if people actually like it. If not I'll just move onto other things :p

With the multi-billion dollar project underway to extend Blueberry Academy's underwater campus, there's been an influx of new students lining up to attend the recently founded institution!

As for you who may or may not have crash-landed in Unova not long ago -you with no credentials- there's no way you could have applied to join the wave of incoming students... had it not been for a string of improbable events that tied you up in some top secret plot.

An unpredicted meteor ripped through the planet's atmosphere in the late hours of night. A burst of unusual green-blue energy had not only been visible to the naked eye, but it set off all the satellite radars in the region. And what stumbled out of the impact zone was the most unlikely part of the story.

... Where... were you? Did you... fall asleep again? Opening your eyes, the cold midnight wilderness flashed alight with an eerie aurora floating close to the ground. The dust was settling, but instead of dispersing into the dirt, it'd been floating up back toward the clear starflecked sky. The surrounding field stood littered with broken shards of... something. They'd been decaying into twinkling flakes light enough to float off the ground — and being that it was pitch black, the only light you had to see was quickly dispersing from the stripped soil and clumps of torn up grass. Once they'd burnt the last of their light, it had left you nothing but one last gentle light source. Registering the mysterious shimmering crystal not far from your face, you sat up, with no proper sense of how you'd got there or what it had been doing on top of you. You must've walked for miles with it in your arms before passing out from exhaustion.

...

You're really asleep again. You tried to cry out, open your eyes. Nothing happened. You tried to feel your fingertips, your breath in and out of your nose. Where is your body? Nothing... happened. The shell forming around you kept out the melded together white silhouettes, but it also kept you in. But a woman burst through the doors, and you couldn't make out here face as she yelled at them to stop. No, all you could make out was the familiar pattern of her earrings. "Can't you see that you can't drill through this?!" She pushed them out of the way, standing between you and their stainless steel tools. "You'll do nothing but hurt the both of them!"

. There's some illegible message displayed on the device you hold in your hands. You look down at it, not remembering what you were doing before.

You can't make out any of the details anymore, but you're unable to look away as you hear the sound effect from pressing the A-button. The symbols warp into familiar letters. You suddenly feel a slightly overshadowing presence behind you. At last, comprehensible text materializes.

"And so you have returned with some pretense of self awareness. Not as you were before, however."

You press the A-button again. "More a shell of what you once were... Something I lament to say likely cannot be reversed." A-button. "Nay, you are not the you that I once knew." You... press it again. "..." It does not speak, so you press it again.

And again.

"I am at a loss as to whether I should mourn a past that has faded into obscurity or feel at peace knowing that you are as ever-changing as the world you left in my charge." You press the button one more time, but the voice seems to hesitate for a moment, thinking of what next to say.

". . . "

"Regardless, I have been awaiting your return for a very long time."

.

.

.

Better to get up and put on your tacky school uniform now than fall back asleep and wait to be dragged out from your boring old dorm room by the scruff.

Being taken as a test subject in the most remote middle-of-the-ocean facility felt more like being held prisoner than enrolling in school. Your homeroom teacher, Ms. Briar, had served as a reminder that the muddy flashes of memories you had of being encased in a living crystal were, in fact, real. She seems to know a lot about the creature you woke up holding, but next to nothing about you. While still mildly annoyed by her poking and prodding, you've warily come to accept that her endless curiosity is not out of cruelty. She is... respectful toward you. Not of your boundaries, but she's fascinated with you in a mild manner that does not immediately endanger your safety. Speaking of, as you sat down and slung your bag over the desk chair, Terapagos came tumbling out, clinking clumsily against the floor. "Aaa-" It cried, stuck on its back. Or, well, not it. He. You quickly scooped him up and set him back on his legs. He's looking up at you, nudging your shoe with his head. His unusually large eyes sparkle as he stares with unmatched innocence, waiting for you to bend over and pick him up. Which you do, knowing the pink haired girl that sits a few rows behind you is vibrating in her seat. "Cute... so cute..." She's mumbling under her breath. Ever since you 'enrolled' she'd done nothing but stare at your companion, which he seemed to find uncomfortable if the pulling at your shoelace wasn't enough to convey that fact. "Alright, little guy, alright. I'm on it." You huff, gently plucking him off the ground with two hands. He cries out in joy and she suddenly clutches her heart, falling backward out of her seat.

...

Nobody here talks to you. Not because they haven't tried, but because every attempt has been met with you either pretending you hadn't heard them or getting up and walking out the classroom. All Briar had to do was take the attendance. They couldn't necessarily threaten you into forced bonding with others. No, your real confinement was having to go into the terrarium and complete menial tasks for the equivalent of money just so you could buy food and school supplies. You didn't even want to be here, you just didn't have anywhere better to go. Apparently they just wanted to protect you for the time being, but there's no way in hell you'd believe that's why they sent you into glorified solitary confinement in the middle of the ocean. Everyone else had permission to come and go whensoever they pleased.

No, your only equals here were your few Pokemon friends. The researchers might've claimed to be keeping your friends in the terrarium for the sake of their health and the preservation of the outside world it mimicked, but you'd never believe in their so called pure intentions. No, this was a pretty little garden for outsiders looking in, and a cage too small for ornate living decorations like you.

Terapagos had been your only one constant since day one, and he was wary of most other people. You trusted his judgement the most. Most other people. The lunch ladies were apparently the saints of the Pokemon world. The food staff are genuinely kind, and Terapagos is a fiend for all types of Pokemon confections you're quickly learning. They've told you that most Pokemon have a taste preference, but not your special little pal, though the poor thing had such a tiny stomach that does not match his monstrous appetite at all.

There's one other person Terapagos had once been intent on pestering in at the cafeteria, but was quickly distracted by another helping of berries and whipped cream.

Compliments to the hardworking Alcremie in the kitchen, they were the only ones who could truly keep his menace at bay... You were endlessly thankful for the distraction, anyway. You wouldn't have known what to do if he'd marched right on up to the four of them chatting amongst themselves over lunch. Red haired dude. Pink haired girl. Scary four eyes. Annoying dragon jerk. Everyone knew who they were. Those were the most problematic trainers in all the Academy.

[patrickelvinart]

New Mexico

red and black sharpie

Somewhere in New Mexico 2010

In 2010 I moved from Miami Florida to Los Angeles California. My lease had run out in Miami and the room where I was going to be staying in Los Angeles wasn't going to be available for two months. So I decided to take a road trip across the country and live out of my car for two months.

It was a beautiful trip I wound up spending most of my time camping out in the mountains of New Mexico. I was traveling by mysef in my Honda Civic and let me tell you, sleeping alone in the pitch black darkness of the New Mexican wilderness was .... creepy.

Whoa.

But it was such a beautiful trip. Example, one day I decided to go for a hike. I walked up a mountain trail following a small creek. After I had wandered for a few miles I found, growing by the water, a cherry tree covered with wild cherries. The cherries were ripe and almost black and so sweet.

So I sat down by the creek and made a lunch of wild cherries and cool mountain stream water. In the middle of the wilderness. No one there except for me and God.

During my trip I drew in my moleskine a lot. It was during that trip that I hit upon drawing with red and black sharpies. The above drawing is from my moleskine. I was feeling deep into the colors and imagery of the American Southwest.

I've returned to this motif several times since then. Here is one I did around 2016.

Untitled

red and black sharpie on manila paper

Los Angeles 2016

Me, somewhere in Nevada, 2010

[parsnippety]

Cecilia

I'm finally getting organized! No more procrastinating. I've edited this story and reposted it to @spaced-out-human, where I'll be continuing with *gasp* a larger plot.

- Original story below the cut -

Sounds are powerful. That goes without saying- the most severe (?) sounds you'll find your average sentient species making are soft clicks/rumbles. Most languages developed through touch, or something like sign language. The species that can make noise don't have much control over their pitch. They don't need to. Others "hear" with specialized pads, designed to pick up the slightest vibration... (Don't ever touch them, you hear?) Anyway-

You know how the human voice can literally break glass? Yeah, so do the higher-ups in any organization that knows what they're doing. In the Rhusngi's Immigration fleet, crews are chosen through a complex AI system. Applications take Jovian aeons to process- But this ain't Rhusngi Immigration.

There's no one name for what we are. A bunch of idiots, taking random jobs here and there- wait, what? No, we're not- We just do deliveries! *unintelligible alien muttering* Sure, it can be dangerous, but we're not stupid. Our crews communicate, for Dsheng's sake.

I understand your concern- Ship 7 does have a more, er, potent blend of species... they balance each other out- The two humans? Hhhhhhharmless. *xe hisses, frustrated.*

｡.:*☆*: .｡:*.:*☆☆*

"Aaaaaalright, Bumblebees! Another day, another dollar! Everybody, up, up, up!"

Kit's voice crackled with enthusiasm and static. It reverberated through the black-and-yellow ship, signaling the start of another shift. Most of us had been on board for "decades"- that's what Faizan says, at least. We've gotten used to each other by now, what with all of us being so... different.

It's been a few months since we picked up Kit and, erm... There have been some difficulties, sure, but yeah. It's made us closer, if anything. -Besides, now it's even. Seventh ship, seven crew members! Faizan chimes in, startling the mantis-like being. She promptly donks him upside the head with one blade-like arm.

He chuckles, then looks her in the eye- or tries to. "We just got some new cargo. Needs scanning." He holds a small device up to his mouth and speaks into it, making a series of clicks. He presses a button, adding- "Kit, you too- be at the loading deck in 5."

☆☆

Pretty soon, most of the crew joined Needih (insectoid), Faizan (human), and the new cargo. Kit (also human) was late- as per usual. But eh, she's on time when it really matters...

The cargo wasn't particularly large today, nor moving- thank God. "...And it's our turn to scan it in, got it?" Faizan lectured the younger human as he carried a box across the room. The two got to work, moving packages from the hatch as the rest of the crew chattered away.

Kit laughed when he stopped talking-

"You know you're breaking my heart..."

Faizan stopped in his tracks, a smirk on his face.

"You're shaking my confidence, daily." He replied.

--Here's a link for y'all--

He didn't know what he expected- The song was old. Really old. And Kit had never even set foot on Earth...

Kit started tapping the side of the box and stomped to a rhythm Faizan hadn't heard in forever-

"...'Celia... you're breaking my heart..."

Faizan's eyes lit up. Of course Kit sang the higher part, and of course he knew the lower one.

"You're shaking my confidence daily!"

Needih was in awe. She felt her shell shake with the vibration- it was impossible to describe. Sometimes, on her home planet, wilder sounds would align- but that was incredibly rare. Almost mythical. The crew all "heard" in different ways. We're lucky 'cause they're similar enough to communicate...

"... I'm beggin' you please to come home!"

Jaws dropped. Scrounge and Sdaer put down their drinks, eyes wide. Scrounge let out a deep rumble and tilted his ursine head. Faizan rolled his eyes and kept singing- the crew had never seen him like this...

The two humans sang like nobody else was in the room. They felt a sense of belonging, of harmony, like nothing else in the universe.

For the first time in years, Faizan dropped the package. He and Kit tapped out a beat on every available surface- the walls, the floor, even the boxes. And they laughed. It scared the hell out of the rest of the crew, who were too stunned to do anything but stare.

Goodness knows how Kit was able to sense Faizan's movements before they happened- and vice versa. Sure, they both missed a beat here and there but what did you expect? They're only human.

"Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!" He exclaimed, conveniently skipping to the good part. Kit grinned.

☆☆

"God, I haven't sang in years..." Faizan paused and looked around the room. The crew was just. In shock.

"To, skh..." Sdaer struggled with the English. "To quote you, what the fUCK was THAT?"

"That was harmony." Kit said with a smile. And the humans just? Got back to work? Kit hummed softly, and Faizan smiled (without baring his teeth, to be polite- as if he and the newbie didn't just break goodness-knows-how-many-galaxies' regulations).

"How do you know Simon & Garfunkel, anyway?" the captain asked.

Kit looked down at the box they were holding. "...Does it matter?"

"No. No, it doesn't."

[eksvaized]

Part Seven [ Previous 〡 Next ]

You try to sleep, you really do. Every fibre of your being yearns for a moment of respite. For a brief escape from the reality, pressing so heavily upon you. But the harsh, glaring sunlight that stubbornly seeps through the cracks of the window, rudely swamping the room with an overbearing, sickly yellow hue, is unrelenting in its refusal to let you rest. You squint against the intrusive brightness. It’s a stark contrast to the darkness you’ve grown accustomed to.

With a gritty determination akin to a soldier preparing for battle, you manage to peel yourself off the bed. Your body protests with each movement as you fight off the gravity. You navigate the room with the intention to draw the curtains shut, hoping to shroud the room in the solace of shadows once more. But as you approach the curtains, you realise that sleep will remain a distant dream.

Your gaze shifts towards the window, where your fingertips begin to glide over the smooth, icy surface of the glass. It stands as a cold, unyielding barrier between you and the world blooming beyond it. It’s as if you’re a bird trapped within a transparent cage, observing the unfettered sky yet unable to spread your wings and fly.

You notice the absence of handles or the screws that once held them in place—there’s no easy way for you to open the windows.

You find yourself contemplating your courage, questioning if you would have the guts to leap through the open window, if given a chance. It’s a thought as daunting as standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into the abyss.

Your eyes sweep across the expansive landscape.. After enduring the relentless cycle of sunless days and pitch-black nights, trapped like a forgotten prisoner in the dim, dank basement, where the four unyielding walls often seemed to close in on you, as if threatening to swallow you whole, the sensation of watching the sunrise is strange. The vastness of the world outside, the freedom it represents, feels almost too foreign, too distant a concept for you to entirely grasp in your current state of mind.

The forest, a dense, mysterious stretch of greenery that extends around the entirety of the property, lies just across the house. Its daunting shadows and eerie silence send a shiver down your spine and open a floodgate of questions in your mind.

Would Simon be able to track you down in there? Or would the towering trees, with their thick canopies and hidden alcoves, provide you with the safety and invisibility you so desperately seek? There’s a part of you that wants to believe in the latter, to hold on to the hope that you could somehow disappear, meld into the forest’s undergrowth, and remain undetected.

But on the other hand, you’re also brutally aware of your own limitations. You have no survival skills, no knowledge of how to ignite a fire using nature’s resources, or how to locate a source of drinkable water in the wilderness. You don’t know how to protect yourself from the harsh weather, how to prevent yourself from freezing to death in the cold, unforgiving nights.

It would be comforting to imagine that you could stumble upon a sign of civilization - another remote house, a gas station tucked away on a forgotten road, or even just the distant hum of a car passing by. But the bitter truth is that you are far removed from civilization, located miles away, stuck somewhere in the heart of the wilderness.

As you continue to stand, your eyes dart over your shoulder, much like a hunted deer aware of the lingered presence of a predator. You contemplate your next move. The thought of going to the bathroom crosses your mind. With hesitant steps, you approach the door. Walking across the hallway is tempting, almost inviting. You could seize the opportunity to check if the windows there are as barren of handles as the ones in the room. And perhaps, if you dare to venture further, you could take a more thorough look around the bathroom. The possibility of finding something in there, something sharp and sturdy, something that could be used for self defense, lingers in your thoughts.

However, the moment your fingers wrap around the cold metal handle of the door, you find your hand retreating back to your side. Simon’s commanding voice echoes in your mind, reminding you of his order - to rest. Even though you don’t believe he would be particularly mad about you leaving the room, you decide not to take the risk. Moreover, you certainly don’t want to risk engaging in a conversation with him. The fear of revealing your insomnia, the fact that sleep keeps eluding you, gnaws at your insides. You worry that he might interpret your wakefulness as a willingness to spend time with him, to engage in intimate talks, or even to endure his touch. The worst outcome, you fear, is that he might decide to expedite tonight’s plans.

The notion of going on a date with Simon strikes you as amusing, albeit in a twisted way. It shouldn’t be, given that he is intimidating, crazy and unpredictable, and you can’t shake off the feeling that he will have all sorts of sinister expectations about how the evening should conclude. The possibility that it might end with him sharing a bed with you sends shivers down your spine, and the mere thought of it frightens you.

Caught in the dilemma’s iron jaws, too scared to venture out of the bedroom yet too restless to lie back in the bed, you decide to explore the rest of the room.

The wardrobe is indeed overflowing with a myriad of garments. Some of them look quite old, as if they had once belonged to someone else. Yet, nestling amongst them are other clothes — undeniably new, with fresh tags still attached, untouched and unworn... You find the skirt that Simon had mentioned. It’s short, black and looks just a tad bit small, which plants a seed of doubt about your ability to fit into it. Nevertheless, you decide to postpone worry about the possible battle of squeezing into it until later.

After carefully extricating the skirt and laying it gently on the nearby table, you resume your exploration. Your fingertips lightly graze over the stack of shirts. You pull out something that immediately catches your attention - a loose, long, and extraordinarily plain tee. It’s something you would typically prefer to wear because it would allow you to hide your figure as much as possible. However, in a sudden change of heart, you instead opt for a pink blouse. The colour is borderline garish, but you find yourself thinking it would somehow complement the skirt.

A scoff escapes your lips as you stand there. A sensation of self-betrayal creeps up your spine like ivy on a trellis. You shouldn’t care about your appearance, and yet, you can’t help but think that if you try to look pretty for Simon, it might serve as a convincing lie that you’re lowering your guard around him. It could make him think that he’s succeeding in weaving his web of manipulation around your thoughts, making you believe that he genuinely cares for you.

Venturing deeper into the wardrobe, you discover a considerable collection of lingerie. You can’t help but notice the array of sizes available. The fabrics, while appearing visually pleasing and feeling smooth under your touch, are unlike anything you’ve ever worn before. The panties, bras, and stockings look too risque, too revealing. If you would dare to wear them — and you definitely wouldn’t — it could potentially lead Simon to a wrong conclusion. And the last thing you want is for him to believe that you are willing to invite him into your bed.

Your exploration concludes with you settling on the bed, a book placed in your lap. As you gently pry it open, a squished paper flower reveals itself, nestled between the pages. Carefully, almost reverently, you lift it, noting how the paper has aged, turning a mellow yellow. You scrutinize the precious little thing in your hand, wary of making any sudden movements that might cause it to crumble.

Ripping pages out of a perfectly good book feels almost sacrilegious, like tearing a piece from a beautiful tapestry. But after checking the title and skimming through a few lines, you convince yourself that it might not be such a terrible offense. After all, the book appears to be nothing more than a biology notebook, and you have no intention of continuing to read it.

Transforming book pages into paper flowers initially seems like a mundane, boring task, but with nothing else to fill your time, you decide to give it a try. The next few hours are spent in an almost meditative state of ripping and folding, ripping and folding. Still, despite your best efforts, you find yourself unable to replicate the intricacy of the flower that now rests on the nightstand.

You entertain the idea of carefully unfolding the original flower, attempting to mimic its folds and creases on a fresh page. Yet, the fear of being unable to reconstruct it stops you. The thought of losing your only reference is too daunting, and you find yourself in a stalemate, with the delicate paper flower continuing to lie untouched.

The sun’s descent, painting the sky in hues of twilight, indicates the time, which slips through your fingers like sand. The door groans open, and Simon strides in, reminiscent of a lion entering his den. A towel is nonchalantly slung around his hips. His chest glistens with droplets of water, each bead shimmering like a pearl delicately strewn across a canvas of taut skin. His hair is wet and clings to his forehead.

You find yourself entranced. Your gaze gets hooked on him for a second too long. When your eyes finally meet his, a self-satisfied smirk is etched on his face, as if he has won an unspoken game that you didn’t know you two were playing.

He leans against the doorway, casual and confident. The slight shift of his towel draws your attention to the sharp angles of his hipbones and the V-line. An involuntary shiver courses through you — a moth drawn to a flame — prompting you to press your thighs together and shift uncomfortably on the bed.

The crumpled book page slips from your lap onto the bed, capturing his attention. His eyes sweep over the mattress and the floor, littered with pages and your botched attempts at origami flowers. As he nods in satisfaction, you notice the rhythmic tap of his fingers against his abdomen.

“You have thirty minutes to get ready,” he states, his voice echoing in the room, bouncing off the white walls. His words jolt you back to the present, reminding you that you need to dress up.

With one last lingering glance, he retreats, leaving the room as the door closes with a soft click. Only when his footsteps fade into the distance, swallowed by the silence of the house, do you roll out of bed. You don’t bother cleaning up the mess.

Struggling to fit into the tight skirt proves to be an arduous challenge. But with some effort, you muster the strength to shimmy into it. The fabric clings to your skin like a second layer. It’s a little too tight for your comfort; it’s uncomfortably restrictive. Yet the thought of searching the wardrobe for an alternative is too daunting.

Once you to button up the blouse, which fits much better than the skirt, you exhale in a sigh of relief—it’s a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in your lungs.

Glimpsing your reflection in the window, you can’t help but notice the unkempt state of your hair. It’s a wild, tangled mess since you didn’t brush it after it was washed. You know deep down that trying to look presentable in this situation is pointless, but the need for a brush gives you the perfect excuse to get out of the room.

Cautiously, like a mouse venturing out of its burrow, you approach the bedroom door and reach out to open it, revealing the hallway that yawns out in front of you. It seems longer than before, as if it has stretched out. Most of the curtains are drawn, cloaking the hallway in a blanket of dark shadows.

As you tiptoe towards the bathroom, curiosity pricks at your resolve and you dare to pull some curtains back. The sight of windows with no handles doesn’t surprise you, but it does send a chill of unease crawling down your spine.

The bathroom seems to have shrunk since the last time you were in here. You wonder how you and Simon managed to fit in this confined space. As you rummage through the cupboard above the sink, you try to push away thoughts about the intrusive shower you were forced to take earlier today. You consciously avoid looking at the stool that Simon sat on, which is now pushed next to the edge of the bath.

Before retreating back to the safety of your room, you take a moment to inspect the bathroom door. There’s no lock on it.

On your way back, you hear the soft echo of footsteps. Instinctively, you whirl around to find Simon emerging from an unseen corner — you can only assume that’s where the staircase is.

“You look...” His eyes slowly scan your figure, taking in every detail. You feel the heat of his gaze on you as it lingers on your blouse, then subtly trails to your chest, pausing there, before finally drifting down to your too-tight skirt. “Lovely.”

“Thank you.” You manage to strangle the words out. A lump of dread is lodged in your throat. A wave of nausea sweeps over you. Each second spent pretending that you don’t want to flee, that you don’t want to scream and hide from him, feels like an eternity. The charade of accepting his compliments, as if you’re not being courted by your kidnapper, is a bitter pill to swallow.

Simon motions for you to come closer. Gathering the courage, you approach him, daring to steal a glance at his casual attire — a pair of worn-in jeans and a black hoodie that seems to swallow him up. His hair is dry and a little ruffled.

As your gaze drifts further down to his feet, the absence of shoes catches your attention. A sinking feeling of disappointment swells in your chest as you realize that it probably, almost definitely, means that you won’t be leaving the house tonight. The first date that he promised to take you on will just be happening in the home.

taglist: @kingsprettyangel if you want to be added - let me know!

[christinesficrecs]

Are there any prison fics?? Thank you for all your work 🙏🙏 youre a champ among us beggars

I aim to please. 😋 Try these ones. 🩷

Those Hidden Places by Mimiminaj | 18.7K

Stiles is the new inmate at Derek’s prison. He really didn’t expect to fall in love with the mouthy little brat.

0024L by abluemountainashtardis | 32.3K | Mature

They had marched straight into dad’s office with requisition papers. Showed his dad all the appropriate paperwork, then Stiles was being bundled into the back of a black SUV. All courtesy of the Supernatural Awareness Bill of 2003. Stiles was officially ‘Detained Until further Notice’.

Love's Violent Delights by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 10.6K | Explicit

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Outrun Your Ghosts by wangler | 19.1K | Mature

When Derek Hale arrives at the Beacon Hills Young Adult Rehabilitation Center, he plans on keeping his head down and serving the rest of his time in minimum security peace. Stiles Stilinski changes all of that.

Never Cage A Rabid Wolf by tty9 | 49.7K | Explicit

Stiles is sent to prison, and gets assigned to a cell with-

“Hale?!” Scott gasped as his gaze followed Stiles’s. “You got Derek Hale?! Oh boy, man, good luck with that buddy, that guy is a psycho!” His voice had become worryingly high pitched. Stiles’s heart started thumping in his chest, and he swore it actually skipped a beat when Hale looked up at them, his eyes searing into Stiles’s who quickly dropped his head. His beef (or was it pork?) slop suddenly looked very interesting.

Finstock’s Wilderness Camp for Boys by rainsoakedshoes | 12.1K

“What happens if I don’t go?”

“You get charged with breaking and entering, and you will probably serve time in a juvenile facility,” the sheriff said matter of factly. “That’s if you’re lucky enough to be tried as a minor.”

“You’d send your own son to jail?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

“You broke into someone’s home, Stiles!” The sheriff took a breath to compose himself and ran a hand across his face. “And this isn’t the first time. I can’t keep bailing you out of trouble. I don’t have any favours left to call in. Either you agree to go to the camp and clean up your act, or you risk getting tried as an adult.”

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Bubble gum snow drop plzzzz ❤️❤️❤️🤡🔥🔥🔥

clown fuckers rise up !

Pairing: Buggy x Female Reader

WC: 2000

Prompt: “You’re obviously freezing. Just come here.” 

— — 

*cough* *cough* *sputter* *cough*  

Your eyes snap open and see a cloudless late afternoon sky. You immediately lurch forward to purge the seawater from your lungs. You flip over on your hands and knees while choking out the rest of the water, you gasp and cough trying to catch your breath. 

It had all happened so fast. You were aboard Buggy’s ship to do some negotiations when a massive storm hit. Your serious discussion had been interrupted by violent shaking of the ship and sounds of wood breaking all around you. You both headed out to the deck to assess the situation and that was the last thing you remembered. 

You had seemingly been washed ashore on some small island near where the storm had hit. You finally catch your breath enough to look around. You see what seems like the shape of another human being washed along the shore about fifty yards away. You rub at the salt water stinging your eyes, to make sure you were really seeing another person laying on the beach. After you regain your full vision you realize that yes, yes there was someone laying on the sand, someone with bright blue hair… and someone who certainly wasn’t moving. 

Instinctively you start to sprint towards the body on the beach as fast as you can. Upon arrival, you see Buggy’s body laying face down in the wet sand with no signs of life. 

“Shit…” You huff out. His stupid chop-chop fruit. He probably couldn’t push the salt water out of his lungs like you did. You flip him over onto his back and quickly move to straddle his waist. 

“Come on…” You press your hands onto his chest and push down with your whole body. You continue to pull back and push down in a frantic manner, trying to get him to cough up the sea water. 

“Don’t die, you fucking asshole!” You give one especially hard thrust to Buggy’s chest and his hands fly up to your waist as he begins coughing violently. You hop up to hover above him as he expels the water from his lungs and catches his breath. 

��Y/n?” Buggy looks up at you, confused. 

“Yes?” You question. 

“YOU’RE God?!?!” He shrieks out and his eyes widen. 

“Oh my GOD.” You roll your eyes. “I’m not god you fucking moron, you aren’t dead. Not yet at least.” You pick yourself up off the sand. “It’s getting dark, we can’t look for the rest of the crew until the sun’s back up. We need to find somewhere to shelter for the night.” 

Buggy groans and rolls around dramatically on the sand. 

“This is ridiculous! I’m stuck here with you? Here I thought you’d be in and out of my office with your Berries and I’d never have to deal with you again. Now we’re bunking up in the wilderness?” “Excuse me, circus act? I just saved your fucking life, dickhead. And if you’d like to continue living that life, I’d follow me.” You turn tail and start to walk towards the rock formation in the center of the island. Buggy looks around and sees that you are clearly his only hope at surviving this ordeal, so he scrambles to his feet and follows you. 

Eventually you come across a cave deep enough to shelter yourselves from any enemies or predators for the night. You order Buggy to gather some sticks and logs to put a fire together. You dig your cigarette lighter out of your pants pocket and pray to whatever gods that would listen for it to still be functional. Luck was on your side and the lighter flickered to life in your hand. You light the firewood carefully and watched over the growing flame for several minutes. 

Once the fire was lit, you and Buggy brought yourselves close to the flames so that you could finally feel some warmth in your damp clothes. The night had grown pitch black and you were feeling the aches and pains of being washed ashore catching up with you. 

“I’m going to try to sleep. You should get some rest too.” You crawl over to a corner of the cave and curl up on your side against the rock wall. 

“Right.” Buggy chooses a spot opposite the cave and lays down on his back. He throws his large coat over his body like a blanket. 

Several minutes go by and your body was wracked with a chill that wouldn’t go away. Being stuck in wet clothes all day and the ache in your bones was causing you to shake violently. You rub your sides trying to create more warmth with friction when you hear a sigh from across the cave. 

“You’re obviously freezing. Just come here.” Buggy gruffly announces. 

“What?” You question through chattering teeth. 

“You and I both know how body heat works. Do I have to spell this out for you, princess? Just get over here.” 

You weigh your options. You could go cuddle up to Buggy the Clown or you could freeze to death in a damp corner of a cave. You crawl over to Buggy. He lifts up his coat and beckons you to join him underneath it. You shuffle your body into his under the coat and you already begin to feel warmer. Buggy wraps his arm around you when he felt your shivering shoulders against his chest. 

Although it was significantly warmer in Buggy’s arms, you still couldn’t help but shake from the cold. 

“We should take our clothes off.” You hear from the man behind you. You snap your head in his direction. “Excuse me?!”

“Oh relax, don’t get too excited. Our clothes are still damp, we’re not going to warm up like this. We’ll freeze and catch a cold…. And I do not do well with nasal congestion.” Buggy sits up and starts stripping himself of his wet clothing before you could protest. 

“Jeez can you at least give me a second to look away before you pull your dick out?” You close your eyes instinctively. You unfortunately realize how right the clown was. There was no way you’d warm up if you stayed in your clothes. You sigh and slip your shirt over your head and shuffle your pants down your legs. You cross your legs and move your arms to cover your breasts and pull the makeshift blanket back over you. 

Finally out of your wet garments and with a warm body holding you close, you were able to relax. You release a deep exhale and close your eyes to try and get some sleep. Right as you were about to drift off, you feel something hard twitch against your backside. Your eyes shoot open. 

“Is your dick hard right now?!” You snap at him. “We almost died, you old pervert! How can you be hard?”

“I understand that, y/n!” Buggy hisses out at you, grinding his cock further into your body. You didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose or if he just couldn’t help it. “Regardless of what happened earlier, there is a hot naked girl laying next to me. I’m still a man, y/n.” The way he growled into your ear, your body began to betray you…

You sighed at the feeling of his needy body dry humping you. You pressed your ass further into him and Buggy groaned lowly. He moves his hand from its place on your stomach up to grip your breast. He gropes it harshly, using it almost as an anchor to pull your body back into his. 

Buggy gives your breast a particularly rough squeeze and you involuntarily moan out loudly. You slap your hand over your mouth. You hear the man behind you chuckle. 

“You’re wet right now, aren’t you, y/n?” Buggy whispers in your ear. “Does this turn you on, y/n? You like when I play with your tits like that?” 

Your cunt pulsed at his filthy words. You couldn’t come up with a response other than a whimper. The hand that was groping your breast suddenly released it to pull your right leg up and over his hip, effectively spreading your legs open for him. 

“I bet if I touched this sweet little pussy, she’d be soaking wet. Should I see if I’m right, y/n?” Without waiting for a response from you, Buggy detaches his other hand from wherever it was and slips it between your legs. He uses his middle and first fingers to slip effortlessly through your slick folds. You gasp as he lets his fingers linger on your clit and applies a bit of pressure. 

“Looks like I’m right! You’re all hot now too, what do you say we warm up a bit faster hmm?” Buggy purrs in your ear as he dips his two fingers shallowly in your hole, teasing you before coming back up to rub at your clit, spreading copious amounts of your slick around your throbbing sex. 

“We really shouldn’t, B-buggy… oh!" He pushes his digits into your entrance again and you yelp out. 

“Come on baby, let me stick it in you. It’ll feel good…” Buggy continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, working you up further. “Feel how wet you are?” Buggy dramatically squelches his fingers in your dripping cunt and you clench at the noise and the feeling. “It’d be a shame to let this go to waste… don’t you want to cum? I’ll make you cum on my cock, just let me put it in…” 

How could someone be so hot while simultaneously begging you to let him take you? You were desperate for release so you relented to the clown’s pleas. 

“Yes, fuck me.” You breath out. Buggy pulls his fingers out of you and his leaking cock was already prodding at your hole. You don’t know how did it so fast, it was almost like a magic trick. 

You were so wet that your walls welcomed Buggy’s cock easily. You both groan and gasp as he makes his first experimental thrusts into you. 

“Shit baby, you’re so tight! If I had known you had such a nice pussy I would have bent you over the desk in my office earlier!” Buggy hikes your leg higher in his hand in order to penetrate you even deeper. 

“Right there!” You huff out and throw your head back against Buggy’s shoulder. 

“Here, baby? Does that feel good?” Buggy continues to thrust his cock into you, tip brushing against that sensitive spot with each pass through your slick walls. He nips at your ear as you melt further into his body. He brings his hand that was holding your thigh down to push on your lower tummy. 

“B-buggy… fuck…” The sensation of his cock sliding through your sensitive insides was heightened by his hand on your stomach. “I-I… I think I’m gonna cum… fuck!” Before you finish your sentence the pressure in your abdomen releases and you orgasm violently on your clown lover. 

“There it is, good girl…” Buggy speeds up his thrusts into your still spasming pussy. “Squeezing me so tight, fuck I’m gonna cum too, shit…” 

You feel Buggy grip the soft skin of your tummy and pull your body impossibly closer to his as he spills his thick seed deep inside you. You felt rope after rope of hot liquid fill you to the brim and spill out around his member at your entrance… must have been awhile for him… 

Buggy’s breath was hot and ragged on your neck and you feel his nose nuzzle your spine. 

“So… you still cold?” Buggy asks. 

“I think I’ll be okay now, thanks.” You laugh and cuddle your body into his front even closer. “You’re still inside me, you know.” 

“I know… can we sleep like this? Please? You’re so warm…” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Fine,” You respond. “But if people come looking for us and find us like this in the morning, you’re a dead clown.” 

“Worth it.” Buggy yawns and quickly begins snoring behind you. Finally being comfortably warm, you too drift off to sleep. 

-- --

xx Mo 

[dawn-moths]

tw: predator/prey dynamics, reader is kidnapped under the guise of being saved, you could consider this dubcon at the end i suppose.

words: 900+

Vampire!Childe who finds you wandering through the freshly fallen snow that blankets the forests of snezhnaya, a trail of blotchy, splattered red following in the wake of your frantic, uneven footprints, leading him to you like a shiny lure dangling from a sharp hook.

Every new sound that echoes from the treetops makes you lose another notch of sanity, all logic wrung from your mind like water from a cloth until all you’re left with is the terrified instinct to keep running, don’t let it catch you.

You swore you could hear the distinct, almost but not quite human chittering of a mean chuckle every time you stumbled and nearly fell, as if the shadows took amusement in your suffering, but whether it’s all in your head or not doesn’t matter anymore.

You just have to keep running.

Against all odds, you just have to keep running.

Childe could smell you from a mile away even if your blood hadn’t been spilt, your sweet, sinfully human scent wafting through the air on a crisp breeze, tangled with the heady aroma of the thick pine that crowds the space of the wilderness.

He wants you, and so he shall have you.

But not until he’s let himself indulge in the thrill of the hunt.

The moonlight reflects off the shimmering snow, bright enough to light your way as you stumble through the woods, wounded shoulder clutched tightly in your hand, more panic flooding you every time you felt a new rush of sticky warmth slipping from between your fingers.

It lights his way too, not that he would even need a shred of illumination to see by. The night sky could be as black as the abyss and he’d still be able to find his way to you effortlessly, rushing over the twisting, uprooted terrain with the precision and grace of a dancer under the cover of pitch darkness.

His mouth was already watering at the thought of it— the thought of you, and how you’d taste— long before he’d caught you in his sights. And now, perched up in the top of a gangly pine, shrouded by all the course, spiky greenery, all he has to do is wait.

Because you’ve lost a lot of blood— far too much to remain standing for much longer, let alone trudging through the snow banks at the pace you currently are— and Childe can hear the beating of your fragile little heart, slowing more and more by the minute, soon to be claimed by the ruthless cold.

By the time you’ve collapsed against the nearest tree, breathing labored and growing more rigid and frozen with each second spent stationary as the cold laces through your aching bones, Childe closes in to make his move.

Besides, he figures you’re better off with him than left to face your final moments alone in the dark and snow. At least he’ll let you die in the comfort of warmth when that time comes to pass.

“Well, well, well…” his silky, unfamiliar voice coos, sparking a jolt within your psyche to get up, get away yet your physical form is too exhausted and delirious to exhibit much fear or fight. You simply loll your head back to rest against the tree trunk your back is pressed against, blurry vision going in and out of focus as you try to make out the figure standing before you, catching blotches of tangerine and carmine and charcoal amidst the endless sea of ivory and pine.

And then he’s kneeling by your side, fangs soaked with saliva as he concludes, “What do we have here?”

You reach for him, your trembling, bloodied hand missing a few times before finding the edge of his cloak, grip growing weaker and weaker as you breathe out, the words nothing more than a wispy puff before your lips in the frozen air, feebly begging, “Please… help me…”

Childe clicks his tongue, brushes the tips of his long, ungloved fingers across where your wound is saturated at its darkest, so quick and light you barely even feel it. He curls his tongue around the two digits that are stained with shining red— your blood, a voice in the back of your head warns you of, only it’s just a little too distant for you to register at the moment.

You feel your stomach clench and twist with dread, all the while your heart flutters and skips a beat at the sudden sound of him moaning around the taste of you.

“Please…” you plead once more, and this time, he seems to hear you.

“Don’t worry,” Childe assures you in a gentle whisper, much less sinister and sultry than before. And then you feel yourself being lifted from the frost, body floating yet still hanging heavy as your dead weight keeps your anchored tight to gravity.

Childe looks at you— looks through you, as if gazing deep into the pool of your very soul— and flashes a sharp-toothed smile. “First we’ll get you somewhere warm, and then…” There’s a chuckle laced into his next words, something cruel about it, like a cat that looks forward to toying with a mouse before killing it just for the sake of sick entertainment. He says, “And then we’ll have dinner.”

He sets off before you can even try to protest or form another thought, racing across the freshly fallen snow without leaving a trace, a phantom in the night, a reaper coming to claim your poor, lost, unlucky soul.

You lose consciousness before he reaches the edge of the forest, the darkness of your unconscious mind the last reprieve you’ll get before you wake up to find yourself faced with what will likely be a new kind of horror.

But Childe won’t just chain you up and drink you dry like most others of his kind would.

No, first, like a cruel cat toying with a helpless mouse, he has to have a little fun.

[javipispunk]

PINE SYRUP

Chapter One: Moment of Truth

Jackson Era!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Through the cold and desperation the pine needles do not fall. The needles are sharp and bitter to ward off strangers, yet with tender care they make the richest syrup.

TW: mentions of death, eating, slow burn, eventual smut. mean!joel, age gap (27/56)

A/N: I wanted to write a Jackson Era Enemies to Lovers so lets see how it goes

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

You were mad as hell again. The weather sucked, you were outta food and outta drink and all alone in the wilderness. After weeks out in the Rockies you knew you needed a safe haven, Winter was on the horizon and there was no way you would make it to Spring by yourself. So there you were standing outside of the gates of Jackson. A mirage of the pearly gates, ready to face your judgment. All you had were the clothes on your back, an empty rifle, a half dozen hand rolled cigarettes and a mason jar. You were hoping you could buy your way in with the cigs. The protocol for trying to enter the commune was unclear. You’d been alone for so long you weren’t sure if you still knew how to talk to people, let alone beg for safety.

Then a voice rang out from up high.

“State your business.”

You cleared your throat and tried your best to yell. Your life was spent trying your best to stay quiet, hidden. Being found meant dying. Being loud wasn’t something you were too keen on doing.

“Looking for shelter.” Short and to the point seemed the best way to go about this.

“Hands up. Get on your knees.” You followed orders, no point in making it this far only to be shot because you didn’t feel like listening. It was hard to get down though. You were exhausted. There was a very real possibility that the person yelling at you would have to help you get up.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see two guns trained on you. One to the left of the gate up on the wall and one in the same position on the right. The gates opened up and out came two men, rifles up, ready to shoot and a dog. They approached you cautiously. Your mouth was dry, from nerves and lack of water. You wanted to get a good look at the men but you didn’t want to seem like a threat. One of the men signaled the dog to go up to you. It ran over, sniffed around, walked back in between the two men and laid down.

After they seemed satisfied with the dog's intuition to not tear you to shreds one of the men spoke. His voice was deep and angered.

“You infected?”

“No.” You replied curtly.

“You won’t survive long out there by yourself.”

“No shit. That's why I’m here, bud.” That might have been a little aggressive and probably wouldn’t get you into their good graces but you were starving and just wanted to get the interrogation over with.

“I ain’t your bud”

You huffed. Obviously this man was not your ‘bud’. It was a figure of speech but you were pretty sure this man didn’t care and you were too tired to explain. Either way the point was moot.

The other man raised his hand up to the man that had spoken, silencing him. You finally looked up to take both of them in. The one with his hand up was tall, had pitch black hair and even darker eyes. The one that had been speaking to you was tall as well. His hair was a lighter brown and peppered with grey, this pattern was mirrored in his patchy facial hair. He was broader than the other man too, and quite obviously older. And much to your dismay he was breathtakingly handsome. They both were. There was something broken in the man, a deep festering of anger that matched your own. Something you could only see in someone else if you saw it in yourself.

You didn’t know what day it was. It’s not like you had a calendar on you, just knew it was fall, mid October you were guessing. The air was sorrowful, a crisp breeze rustling the fallen leaves. With the cold came the haunting of old memories, the past dragging you backwards. The ghosts of yesterday getting closer than they have ever been.

The younger man kept his rifle trained on you while the older man slowly approached you

“Don’t move a fucking muscle” he barked. Then he snatched up your own rifle that lay useless on the ground. You wanted to tell him it was empty but figured it would do you better to keep your mouth shut and let him figure that out for himself. And just as you predicted he tried to eject the cartridge and nothing came out.

“Empty.” He said. He then grabbed your bag and walked back to the other man handing him the rifle.

At this moment you decided to speak up. You didn’t want him taking all you had to your name.

“Can I have my bag? You can take the cigs but there ain’t much else in there.”

“If there ain’t much in there then you won’t mind me taking it.”

Before you could protest the other man uttered a warning.

“Joel.” Joel. His name was Joel. At least you didn’t have to call him bud anymore.

“Well Joel.” You said with a snark and pursing of your lips. “What's the verdict?”

He glared daggers at you. You didn’t know what you did to deserve his ire. But you were still at the other end of two rifles and knew you shouldn’t push their buttons too much at risk of being shot, or worse not being let in. A quick death was better than a long one of starvation out in the cold. He let out another huff. Seemed to be his favorite thing to do. The men gave each other a look. The one whose name you still didn’t know gave you a nod.

“Up.” Was all he said. You were stiff and achy so it was a struggle getting up. Your joints felt as ready to snap as dry brush in the desert. It must have been taking too long because Joel spoke out again.

“He said up.”

“I’m trying. Gimme a sec jeez.” And then with a deep exhale you managed to get up.

“Are you hurt?” Not Joel asked. He was nicer than Joel. He had kinder eyes and was obviously more patient.

“No, just a few scrapes and bruises.”

“Follow us.”

So you did, albeit a little hesitantly. This was unfamiliar territory. You hadn’t stepped foot into a community in years, having spent the last while with three other people wandering the west like true desperados. But slowly they got picked off one by one. One a hunting accident, one sickness and one a bite. So here you were sucking up your pride and asking for help, putting blind trust into strangers, breaking your number one rule.

Finally the other man gave you his name. Tommy. And then you gave him yours.

“Lets get some food in ya.” He said as he handed your bag back to you. You weren’t gonna argue with that.

After you had gotten some food you sat with Tommy and Joel. Tommy gave you an overview of how Jackson was run. There was order and routine. Things made sense. You guys got to chatting about what your role in Jackson would be.

“What are you good for?” Tommy asked.

“Shootin shit.” You both let out a small laugh. Joel didn’t.

“What else? No offense but we ain’t gonna let you out on patrol right now.”

“Fine by me. I’m good with produce. Like farming and preserving things. Pickling, curing, making jams, syrups and the like.”

Tommy nodded. Joel rolled his eyes.

“Is that an issue?” You asked Joel pointedly.

Tommy spoke Joels name under his breath.

“No. No issue.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Pretty good with my hands too if things need fixing” you added.

“No need, we got it covered.” Joel dismissed your offer, which made Tommy utter his name yet again.

Then Tommy prodded you, asking more questions.

“Where ya comin’ from that you learned all that?”

“Western Pennsylvania. Swear the folks out there been living their life like it was the apocalypse decades before it actually happened. They know damn near everything about surviving. But I’ve been traveling around for a few years now.”

“Solo?” Joel asked. Finally a question that didn’t have malice behind it. Now it was laced with pity. You didn’t really like him at this point and it seemed like he didn’t like you too much either.

“Recently, yes.” They seemed to understand what that meant, that the people you had been with had been freed from this Hell, this gruesomeness, that you all found yourselves living in. You hoped death had been kind to them. To survive was to know atrocity. And these men were survivors, as were you.

You hoped that you wouldn’t have to work so hard on surviving while in Jackson. You hoped, at least for a little while, that you could just be.

When the conversation had wrapped up Tommy offered to walk you to the house you would be staying in. The streets were quaint. Nothing to write home about but it was a quiet safe town and that's all you could ever ask for. Your own personal Troy, here's to hoping no giant wooden horses would show up.

On the way there he brought up Joel, who you just learned was Tommy’s older brother.

“You’ll have to excuse my brother. He’s not too trusting.” He looked at you wearily.

“That’s fine. I ain’t either. It’s a man eat man world out there. Gotta be careful. I ain’t too keen on talking to strangers either.”

“I know. But he don’t gotta be mean. We can always use the help around here. You said you know how to cure things?”

“Yes sir.” You replied.

“Been trying to perfect our beef jerky recipe. Maybe you can help with that.”

“Sounds good bud.” You gave Tommy a smile. You were pleased he didn’t interject with an ‘I’m not your bud’ like his brother did.

“Here we are.” Tommy said while pointing to a small little home on the right. It was everything you could have asked for. A mailbox, a porch, a fence, a suburban dream that died when the world ended.

You and Tommy walked up the bluestone path to the front door. You smiled thinking about all the weeds you could pick that wormed their way through the cracks in the stones. Something your father had complained about before the outbreak now felt like a luxury. Tommy showed you around, handed you the keys and a set of clean clothes.

There was an empty spice rack in the kitchen. You placed your lone mason jar in it, hoping you could fill it with a myriad of scents one day.

You took a long hot shower, rinsing away grime and sodden memories. Afterwards you changed into clean sleep clothes, laid on a bed you could finally call your own and tried to fall asleep. You were exhausted but adrenaline was still coursing through your veins. You were safe, at least you hoped you were. You kept thinking about Joel, how aggravated he was. You understood people being wary of strangers but Tommy seemed to accept your presence. Maybe if he wasn’t so handsome and didn’t carry an air of such authority it wouldn’t have bothered you so much. Eventually you fell into a much needed sleep.

[the-marshals-wife]

Revenant (Baylan Skoll x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: I know that not many people have written this character in light of Ray Stevenson's passing, but I want to help keep the legacy of his amazing portrayal alive by continuing to imagine and create stories with Baylan. I truly that hope this one will inspire others to do the same. Fic starts with his perspective, then switches to reader's POV when Y/N appears (marked with a ☀︎).

Description: Baylan Skoll x Fem!Reader, hurt/comfort + fluff | Warnings: none 'cept reunion kisses, hehe | Word count: 1,960

Gif credit: user dustysalmon

Imagine being Baylan's secret love from long ago, brought back by an ancient power

The threads of destiny are difficult to untie. Baylan Skoll knew this all too well, feeling tangled within them for many years. Yet it seemed his arrival on Peridea had finally given him a true line to follow. A great power called out to him, and though it was elusive, he was certain that something more than just hope led him onward. The siren song had taken him far into the wilderness, traversing into the desolate unknown. Having discovered a distant light on the horizon to guide him, the feeling he'd been chasing only strengthened.

However, it was not long after spotting the beacon that he became distracted from his course by a separate, ethereal energy. It was also powerful, but it was distinct from the other entity he sensed. Unable to ignore it for very long, he decided to travel toward it. Having crossed the valley west of his original path, Baylan now stood in the shadow of a vast mountain before the opening of a cave. Above the entrance, there were runes carved into the gray stone, different from the Dathomiri ones he had seen. These appeared to be more ancient, faded from weather and time. Several moments passed as he contemplated whether to enter, staring into the silent darkness.

"The pathway to knowledge is fraught with difficulty," he reminded himself.

The words both assured and haunted him, having been said to him by his master countless times, so very long ago. That time, that world, seemed as ancient as the place he now found himself in.

He heaved a sigh and walked forward. He accomplished only a few steps before the daylight behind him had diminished beyond helpful visibility. Noting the sufficient space remaining between him and the ceiling, he retrieved his lightsaber and ignited it above him, the reddish-orange blade shining enough to let him proceed. Its steady hum was the only sound to be heard as he tread carefully ahead.

The feeling grew stronger with every step he took. It was one of familiarity, and it put him on edge. It could be a trap of some kind, he'd thought, yet he could not sense any immediate threat. Whatever called to him wanted to be found. He resolved to remain alert, and drew deeper into the cave.

Soon after, the walls gradually drew close. Baylan lowered his lightsaber and held it out before him, the space becoming too narrow to keep it overhead. A few minutes later, he finally caught a glimpse of light. The pitch black turned to a blue dimness, and the once uniform stone surrounding him now possessed long, jagged cracks, each and every crevice emanating a pale, sapphire glow. Even the floor beneath him gave the appearance of treading on fractured, shining glass. He cautiously approached the end of the tunnel. Beams of greater intensity radiated toward him like a sun.

The passageway opened into a tall, wide cavern, bathed in blinding light. Baylan attempted to shield his eyes as he stepped towards the source. The power surging around him was stronger than anything he'd ever felt before. The sound of rushing wind filled the space, but all was still. He strained to catch a glimpse of the crystal pillars in the center of the room, encircling the bright glow.

Before he could approach any further, the sound diminished into silence, and the light suddenly began to cease. At its center, a luminous figure emerged. Baylan watched as the remaining light withdrew into the flickering columns and revealed what could only be called an apparition.

"Impossible," he uttered.

He extinguished his lightsaber and replaced it on his belt, never tearing his stare away.

"Y/N," he breathed, "It cannot be,"

Was it the planet playing tricks on him? Witchcraft? A vision sent to punish him for transgressing an arcane power?

It did not matter. You were here.

☀︎

The starlight that had filled your vision just moments ago started to fade, your heart pounding in your chest. You gasp as air returns to your burning lungs. You're unsteady on tingling legs as you try to take in your surroundings through blurred eyes. A pool of blue light recedes around your bare feet until only a shimmering floor of stone remains. The cool, silk sleeves of a white gown adorns your arms as you begin to feel sensation in your limbs once more.

You hear your name spoken from behind, recognizing the voice.

Heart now racing, you try to blink the blurriness away. At last your eyes focus, and as you turn around, you see a face you know as well as your own.

"Baylan?"

"It's not possible," he whispers, stepping nearer, "You...you are one with The Force."

He slowly reaches out to you, and you inch forward to close the distance. His gloved fingers lace through your hair as he gently touches the side of your face. His breath hitches at the contact.

"It is you," he says, his eyes shining with tears, "You're here."

Your own tears blur your sight once again as you lean into his touch. "I'm here."

"But how..." he questions, "You did not-"

Anguish seizes his voice as he's overcome by the memory. You draw closer and clasp his arm, reassuring him of your presence.

He gazes into your eyes, finding the strength to finish. "You did not survive."

"I did not," you agree, "I was in the Netherworld. At peace."

Baylan's composure only weakens further as you speak on.

"I was dreaming of you. I dreamed that you were lost...in a great darkness. The light was not far from you, but you couldn't see it. I kept calling out for you, but you didn't hear me," you recall, the vision already seeming distant, "Then the light came toward me. It was so bright, I couldn't see you anymore. Even when I closed my eyes, all I could see was the light."

You pause, looking to him longingly. "And now, I am here."

He shakes his head, fighting the disbelief. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," you say, placing your hands on his chest, "But all is as The Force wills it."

He grins at your words. "I've missed you more than I can bear, my love," he confesses, a tear falling from his eye, "If this is a dream, I wish to never wake."

You choke back a sob, trembling with joy. Only his name escapes from your tightened throat. "Baylan."

He pulls you into an embrace, and you melt into his strong, comforting arms. There was nowhere in the universe you felt more safe. You look up and begin to lose yourself in his deep blue eyes, just as you'd done countless times before. The space between you disappears as you surrender to a desperate kiss of equal yearning and passion.

You both smile as you break away, faces lingering close. He gazes upon you, enraptured, holding you tightly. "I have so much to tell you."

In your heart, he was the same man you knew and loved from what felt like a lifetime ago. Yet, as your eyes drifted from his greyed beard to examine the black fabric beneath your fingertips, you sensed much had also changed. You wanted to know everything, but your intuition would not abate, and your thoughts had begun to cloud.

"What is this place?" you ask, surveying the iridescent walls around you.

"It's quite a story. Like the ones we were told as children," he chuckled, "Many things I once thought were myth have been very recently proven otherwise. If the legends about them are true as well, then I believe this is one of the well-springs of the Living Force."

"But that means," you falter, looking back at him wide-eyed, "we must be on..."

"Peridea, yes," he confirms.

"Baylan, you found it! The stories were true, you found the pathway!" you exclaim.

"And so much more. This place is far greater than what the Jedi could have foretold," he says, releasing you to take your hands in his, "Now, we will share in its glory together. There is nothing left to stand between us. No Order, no war, no hiding. Everything we once spoke of, it can come to pass."

You want nothing more than to accept his wonderful words, but there was much you still didn't know. Apart from this day, you had not been granted sight of Baylan while in the Netherworld. Yet even in your rest, you'd had several visions of suffering and conflict enveloping the galaxy as The Dark Side permeated The Force. A great evil had spread throughout the stars, and now a shadow of dread grew in your mind that you could not shake. What if the premonition from before you awoke was meant as a warning? Had that same darkness truly overcome your beloved? Surely, he had not fallen beyond the reach of the light.

You realize the turmoil within you must have shown, for now Baylan looks over you with concern.

"Share your burdens, my love," he says, softly raising your chin up, "The Force has reunited us. Why does your heart ache?"

You hesitate, not entirely sure of the answer yourself. "I don't ever want to be parted from you again." It was not untrue; you did fear losing him above all else.

"I give you my word, you will never be taken from my side again," he vows, gently cradling your face in his hands, "No power can stand against us. We can make this world our own. Everything I have, it will be yours also. There is nothing I won't give to you, and nothing I will not do."

You can't help but smile. Tears return to your eyes as he continues.

"It is our destiny, Y/N. That is why you were brought back to me. There can be no other purpose. Together, henceforth, we will remain united."

He carefully thumbs away the tears from your flushed cheeks, and proceeds to press a kiss to your knuckles, sealing his promise.

There was no power to rival that which he had over you. Your heart indeed ached fiercely, with a devotion unaltered by time or distance.

"I love you. I have never stopped, and now I can say it aloud without fear," you declare with a soft, triumphant laugh, "I love you, Baylan."

"And I you, Y/N, as the sky loves the stars," he replies, wholly sincere, "Much has changed, I cannot deny that. But what I feel for you has never faded, and it never will."

You respond to his confession by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss, which he fervently returns. You pull away many heartbeats later, savoring each second of tender rediscovery.

Baylan's eyes soften as he smiles again. "Would you like to see the sky, my star?"

"More than anything," you answer, "But let us stay in this moment, just a little longer."

He brings his forehead to rest upon yours. "As you wish."

Not everything had changed. Baylan Skoll could still read your mind as if it were his own, put your doubts to rest as quickly as they arise, and remained the love of all of your lives. You didn't need The Force to tell you something in him was darker than before, but you weren't going to rush into uncovering it. You truly seemed to have been given a second chance, and all you wanted was to cling to the man you loved, just as you had those long years ago. This moment was all that you needed, and it was sweeter than any dream, in this galaxy and the next.

[charlidos]

"With Mr. Mortensen, Bloom "lost" himself in the New Zealand wilderness. 14 hours later they both returned to the LotR set bruised and thirsty and with a photo that's reputed to be the best ever taken of Orlando. If Mortensen would only release it."

In the myth of Viggo and Orlando's adventures in New Zealand and Middle Earth, this is my favourite legendary tale; two men getting lost and spending a night in a New Zealand rainforest, a "moonless night" 24 years ago. The leader of the pack taking the eager young pup on an adventure, Viggo the romantic renaissance man and Orlando's I'll-follow-you-on-any-adventure adoration. It is indeed the stuff of legends. And like all legends, the story changes over time.

So here's all we know, all we can guess and all we can blissfully imagine.

To begin with, the video interview is from 2004, and the info that Orlando was the "friend" accompaning him is from 2005. However, when Viggo told the same story back in 2003, he was alone, no friend mentioned.

"One time, I was in the rainforest near the west coast of the South Island. It was on a shooting break, one of those incredibly rare weekends where I actually had a Saturday off. So I just went down there for a day and a night to a place that I'd been to before. I wanted to get to the coast, so I headed into the woods, but it was a bit of a hike and it suddenly got dark. I hadn't brought a flashlight with me, which was a bit stupid, because I thought I knew the trail really well. But then I got lost. There was no moon and it was overcast, so it was just completely pitch black, especially as the vegetation was really dense and thorny. But I did have a camera with me, which had a flash, and a couple of rolls of film. So I used the flash to try and find my way out. For a second you could see everything around, so I was using the flash to try and find the trail. I kept thinking, 'It must be around here somewhere', but I never did find it. And then I ran out of film. At some point I was just getting really tired and ended up in a marshy area. I was falling down all the time, getting cut by thorns and I thought, 'This is stupid'. So, I found a piece of relatively high ground and lay down for a little while, until the moon came up. Luckily, when the moon arrived I managed to get my bearings and eventually I was able to figure out how to get back to where I started from. It was a huge relief, but when I showed up back on the set, I really alarmed everyone because it looked like I'd been through a grinder."

How come Orlando joined him on this trip into the wild? I can only speculate (it's what I'm here for, making an epic mountain of a molehill), but Orlando is famously very keen on adventure, so I'm sure he was eager to join. Moreover, he obviously worshipped the ground Viggo walked on (his "guardian angel" who has the skills to basically manage anything. Orlando probably thought "what could possibly go wrong?") and took any opportunity to follow his king. In other words, I don't think Orlando was hard pressed about coming along.

Why did Viggo ask Orlando then? Because he knew Orlando would say yes? Because he knew Orlando would appreciate it, more than the others? Because Orlando was the only other actor having a day off? Because Viggo felt a strong urge to share this beautiful and amazing place with him? Because of the chance to spend quality time with his sweet elf boy?

In Viggo's excellent plan for the hike, they'd be back soon, "in time for dinner". But instead they got lost. Maybe the prescence of the pretty elf prince distracted him? Or maybe he was being overly confident in his abilities, and perhaps wanting to show off a little? Even Viggo will want to impress people he likes, I'm sure.

Viggo brought his camera, photographer that he is. But he also brought an extra roll of film, suggesting he was planning to take a lot of pics. Maybe he wanted to photograph Orlando out in the woods; a beautiful elf in his natural element. But then he seems to quite quickly spend all the film on finding the way, running out before they were even remotely near home. Maybe he panicked a bit? Or maybe he really just wanted to get cool, impromptu photos for a book.

"When I developed the film, which was black and white, there were some really interesting images. The flash had lit up the ground, the foliage and these ferns which are typical of New Zealand. Some of them are almost like negatives because there was this fog and the flash was bouncing off them creating a really strange effect. It's quite unusual because there are these delicate ferns with their little tendrils and all the whiteness around them which makes them look like Japanese prints. I printed off four of them, which I've called Lost 1, 2, 3 and 4. You can see them on the internet."

(This is the first rendering of the tale, in 2002.)

The fact that Viggo apparently also took one - at least - photo of Orlando, suggests that Viggo either took some photos before getting lost, or he took photos of Orlando, furtively (or mistakenly?), while he was supposed to flash their way home. (But who is it who claims this photo is the best ever taken of Orlando? Orlando himself? Does he have it framed at home, as a treasured memory?)

As it got dark out with no moonlight, they started bumping into things, falling over and getting scratched by thorns and bruised by trees. They obviously didn't get seriously hurt, but maybe Viggo did start to worry for their safety. Like he said, he felt responsible for bringing Orlando out there, if he also got injured, it would have been disastrous. (Not sure if this rainforest also has dangerous animals and insects. Trampling on a deadly snake, walking into a poisonous spiderweb, getting prowled upon by a wild animal.)

The way Viggo tells it, the whole thing has an air of romantic adventure. Just picture them finding a piece of dry land for them to stay for a while. waiting for the moon and the stars to come out. (Or until the sun came up?) Imagine them lying on soft grass in a glade, talking softly, just waiting and enjoying each other's company.

Orlando can't have been used to being out in the wilderness, particularly in a foreign country, so Viggo was likely feeling protective. And I imagine Orlando keeping close to Viggo at all times, feeling safe as long as he could feel Viggo's warm body near. Trusting Viggo to keep them safe. If it was "pitch dark", how did they keep track of each other? I imagine Orlando grabbing hold of Viggo's hand, clutching it hard, his only anchor in a foreign, scary place. When they laid down in that glade, maybe they snuggled in close to each other to keep warm (since any night will most likely be a little cool). Maybe holding each other, for comfort and safety. Dirty, bruised, thirsty, completely lost and sharing a beautiful night together.

I can also see them finally seeing the first light of day, and being able to find their way back, hiking back to civilisation. Returning dishevled, exhausted yet very happy. I can see them, two crazy and adventurous nutters laughing about that night in the rainforest of NZ. And living to tell the wild tale, for years to come.

It's such a beautiful, romantic image. No matter what, I feel sure such an experience is one you keep with you for a long time. Bonding to the two together, forever. And creating a mythical legend to boot.

[paellaplease]

12. liberosis - the desire to care less about things.

pairing: revali x reader part: 5 of 6 summary: on the night of calamity ganon’s attack, you find yourself thrown back a week into the past, waking up outside the door of an unusual rito with deep blue feathers.

Read from the beginning

It was pitch black the moment you awoke not for the first time that night. With a cool draft hitting your back, you rolled over in discomfort. The blankets had been stolen, again. 

You tried to free the heavy knitted layer, but just like the previous time it was completely cocooned around him. Grumbling, you released the blanket and opted to press a knuckle into your temple. A horrid pain was beating at the back of your head, rattling your already sleep-addled thoughts. 

The pulse at your wrist was racing, and accompanied by your shallow breaths you knew you were having another episode. 

Even before this recent development, waking up like this was not uncommon. Though your body was reborn and made anew, the mind continued to retain memories from past lives. 

Night terrors were familiar territory for the company you kept. Though the subject matter was something different entirely, and something you wisely chose to keep to yourself. No matter how much effort you dedicated in repressing them, it wasn’t enough to expunge the pain completely. After all, even the hardest of metals lose strength over time. 

And so it led to events like these. Where your body was already panicking, anticipating a fight even after the restful void of sleep.

There was an annoying ringing in your ear. Great, that’s new. You thought to yourself in frustration. As if sleeping wasn’t difficult enough.

It took a bit of tugging to pull the blanket closer, but eventually you had it wrapped around you again. Like clockwork, your breaths fell into the rhythm of an old exercise. You had done it so many times that you had forgotten where you had learned it. It was well worn, like an old coat that had sheltered you from many a storm. 

Inhale, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two, three, four. Hold, one, two, three, four.

It had helped somewhat. The pain had lessened, though the dull ringing was still heard in your ear. Growing louder and louder. Some other tones began to join along with it, forming a noise that began to sound suspiciously like…conversation. 

Perhaps I am going mad. 

As you tossed and turned, the voices echoed. They were a choir of the old and young, the weak and the strong, stone-hardened and soft as meadow grass; ordering you to get up and run. Run? Your chest ached at the thought. Run where? 

Your bed partner then rolled to face you, throwing a wing over your waist. 

Oh. 

Okay. 

You were perfectly safe in this hammock. Though the frigid breezes from Hebra blew through the cloth coverings of the window, you were warmer than you had ever been. It was like sleeping next to a breathing pillow. Needy as it was. And despite your little fits, he did not even stir. 

You looked at him properly then, discerning his form in the darkened room. 

This was not the first time you had seen Revali asleep. You had both camped in the wilderness together and taken alternating shifts on watch when the moon had sat high in the heavens. 

Even on the field he slept like a perfect soldier, back straight and beak shut to a thin line. He was so silent you often wondered if he had been unconscious at all. Any noise deemed suspicious would wake him, his bow never far from reach in case of an ambush. 

Now…his eyes were closed, with not a wrinkle lingering on his brow. His beak hung slightly open, a little snore escaping from it as he drifted off in a deep sleep. 

There was no other way to react than in quiet disbelief. You ran a careful hand over his head, watching as a sea of feathers moved against your outstretched palm. Though soft, you could tell which were newly grown. A delicate patch revealing a history of previous injuries. Some were at his wings but most grew at the front of his chest, indicating they were sustained facing an enemy head on. 

You sighed, shaking your head and placing a light kiss over where his heart would be. “Fool,” you whispered fondly. 

As you pulled away you found that in the shadow of the night it was similar to viewing the inky void of a dark ocean. The feathers under your hand were blue. Soft as every suspiciously plush pillow in this village, and blue. Blue as the ink on your fingers. As Rigel in the constellation Orion. 

And you supposed he too was a dying star, with a core long since fated to destruction before you even met. But in this moment he was far enough that you could still see the light that rolled off him, resplendent. And not for the first time did you wonder if the stars knew of your own selfish thoughts. To hold on to the rattling hum of a shade as the supernova burned behind you, unforgiving and insurmountable. 

If you could keep him for yourself, you would. If the goddesses allowed it, more you would ask. More than his memory. More than one fragile plume which remained in your coat’s pocket like a constant companion. 

Never fraying, never destroyed. 

You leaned forward to press a kiss to his shoulder, but in that instance every restless spirit screamed out. 

You. Must. Go.

The pain behind your head flared again, as if you were struck dead on by a blunt object.

Coughing, you carefully extricated yourself from his hold. The tremble in your arms nearly sent you tumbling out of the hammock, the banister acting as your only support. It’s by some miracle that you latched on with ease, climbing your way back down without waking him and landing with a thud. 

The noise echoed, loud enough to rouse any sleeper. Dizzy, you forced yourself to remain quiet, watching nervously for any sign of movement from the hammock. 

A minute passed, then another. The voices raged in your head until you were nauseous. Sure that he was fast asleep, you turned back to the entrance and slipped on your shoes and coat. The voices followed you like angry echoes, urging you to move faster, waging war against your own wishes. 

Don’t look back. Weakness. Forward. Onward. Soles to dirt as wood is to ash. 

Before stepping over the threshold, a small noise rose over the cacophony in your head. It was quiet. So much so that it could have easily been mistaken as sleep addled murmurs or the creaking of a nearby tree. 

You were frozen still at the doorway when Revali called out your name.

It was whispered, as if in question into the darkness of his home. A shaky breath escaped you as your hands trembled by your sides. 

Both of you knew you were about to do something unforgivable. 

Just as well. It was always you disappointing him. In what world did you even deserve a fraction of his affections? You won’t…you couldn’t acknowledge it. Doing so would break you completely.   

Forward. Onward. 

You lurched to the side, slamming a hand on to the doorframe to steady yourself. The voices sang through your blood, picking at your fraying ends like the burnt off end of a cord. If you weren’t careful, you were going to be sick. 

He called out to you again, and despite your better judgment, you stopped and listened. 

“…please. Stay.” 

A flood of shame and guilt gripped at your already aching chest. There were no words that could fix this. 

“Go back to sleep. Don’t follow me, Revali.” 

The breeze which whispered from the doorway felt somewhat colder. You stood and listened, waiting for him to protest. To fight you. And you were ready to argue back through any means possible. 

But ultimately, in the stillness of his home, there came no reply. 

Good, you thought. Yet you remained standing at the door, stupidly hoping to hear something from him, anything. 

Just as you thought you saw the movement of blankets—Go. The voices commanded. 

And so you complied. The dim wooden ceiling of the hut became the infinite yawning expanse of the night sky. Finally outside, you clutched at your chest as if in deep pain, clouds of air leaving your lips as you tried and failed to breathe. But there was no time to mourn anything. Above you, the stars acted as silent witnesses, watching as you turned away from Revali’s home, listening to the voices and running into the night. 

The cold of the outside slammed into you full force, chilling you to the bone. It had begun to snow and even with your heavy coat you knew it would be an abysmal and chilly ride. 

Eimhin complained as you spurred her forward. You didn’t know where you were going, letting the chorus of voices lead you, becoming so loud that it rivaled even the howling of the Tabantha winds. 

Sun up, then sundown. You did not sleep. You did not eat. A supernatural force seemed to keep Eimhin going as well. Though you knew such things were unsustainable—the need to arrive at this unknown location eclipsed everything else. 

Finally, a building of darkened stone drew closer. It sat upon a hill, with the early dawn shining behind it like a beacon. Stained glass windows decorated every level like jewels on a crown. The heavy doors were wide open, with the combined smell of incense and burning candles wafting out into the open air and making your eyes water. 

The pain in your head grew worse. Not even the breathing exercise could temper it. 

With shaking legs you stepped off your horse. You made a break for the church’s spire entrance, climbing the steps by two at a time. 

At the top of the stairwell you stopped to catch your breath, shoulders heaving as the adrenaline from the past few days began to drain. The headache remained, days of enduring and finally it was lessened to a dull beating. You realised that you were afflicted by a fever as well, the violent sweats and shakes threatening to fold your legs from underneath you. 

Approaching an open window, you knelt beside it, resting your head on the ledge. A beautiful view of Hyrule Castle gleamed from the outside but you were too damn tired to enjoy any of it. 

Sleep. The voices urged you. 

“Now that,” you said to the empty tower. “I can do.” 

.

.

.

Planets and stars spun above you. The ceiling was but a vast, never ending canvas that stretched beyond your comprehension into the depths of gloom where dark blue faded into black. 

“—this is wholly inappropriate and a breach of the terms of our experiment. It is not within your rights to interfere.” 

“Be silent. Sibling. You gamble with time.” 

“I created time.” 

As the two goddesses argued, a warm breeze combed the hair away from your face, creating little waves in the water surrounding your supine body. 

‘Stand up, little sprout!’ Though no voice was heard, you could understand the command well enough. Your nose was filled with the smell of honey and jasmine, and like strings around a maypole untwirling, you felt the tension in your muscles be forcibly plucked up and released. 

You stood up, shivering and slightly disturbed. 

“Take me back,” you said. 

Though you could not see them, you felt all three godly presences suddenly turn to you. It took a lot of strength not to cringe under the weight of their collective judgment. Annoying as it was, you were practically a flea dancing under a magnifying glass, the concentrated point of holy light threatening to burn you into a crisp. 

“Behold. What your coddling has achieved. Sibling.” 

“I don’t appreciate your tone. You pulled them away once things were finally becoming interesting. It was their best run yet and you had to stick your meaty mittens into the stew!” 

“A sharpened sword. Wasted.” 

The water underneath your feet rippled. You felt something wet land on your head. Little drops of rain fell from the literal heavens above, hitting the pseudo-sea in gentle pitter patters. It reminded you uncannily of the sweetened notes of laughter. 

“Excuse me. It’s rude to carry a conversation about someone who is right here. Take me back. Now.” You said again, trying to add as much venom as you could to your voice though your exhaustion was evident. The headache had disappeared as soon as you awoke in this in-between world, but if you were to spend any more time listening to these deities argue, you were sure it would rear its ugly head back to torment you. 

“Be still my petulant spark, the adults are talking.” 

“I see anger. Vexation.” That other voice said, seeming to finally pay attention to you. 

“Of course I am angry,” You said, crossing your arms and scowling at the sky. “Why did you bring me here? I deserve an explanation—”

“Acceptable.” Was all you received in reply. There was a sound of protest from the other godly being, before the ocean gave way and you found yourself falling into the abyss. 

.

.

.

X—

The skin of your knees tore as you landed hard on the muddy ground. You caught your breath, shaking away the vertigo of being wrenched from your previous surroundings so abruptly. There were sounds of metal clashing and shields being bashed. It was difficult to discern where you were, let alone hear your own thoughts as you were plunged into the din. 

Groaning, you placed a hand to your face, surprised to feel the familiar surface of standard issue military metal. Your helmet. 

Before you had left the barracks, Revali had made you abandon it, arguing that it would be an eye-sore at Rito Village. In hindsight you knew he just wanted to see your face better. That very fact he had revealed to you the previous night, much to your delight and annoyance. 

Your heart clenched painfully. 

Now is not the time!  

Bottom line, you were wearing it now. And it was dented and wet, a line of liquid sliding down the side of it. You swiped a hand over the area, pulling back and realizing that the pads of your fingers were stained with the frank redness of fresh blood. 

A sword swung above you, and by instinct you heaved the Greatsword in your hands, blocking the blow easily. You kicked at your assailant’s knee, feeling the crack of bone under your boot as they went down. 

There was a whistling sound coming from behind your shoulder. You had a second to turn. The dagger sliced a line over the gap in your armor, barely missing your jugular. Pressing a hand to your neck, you felt the cut begin to bleed, dripping down to the collar of your tunic. 

Another whistling noise, another dagger cut through the air. Your heavy sword was lifted a moment too late as the sharp metal knocked back forcefully against your chest plate, staggering you backwards. 

The attacker was upon you immediately, light on their feet and quick with their daggers which were so fast they appeared as if from thin air. Digging your boots into the muddy ground, you held yourself like a strong pillar. You had fought quick opponents before, with the memory of graceful feathers followed by a volley of arrows coming to you unbidden. 

You exhaled a grunt of pain when a dagger cut through your side, followed by a swift kick to the injury. It would be easy to wince and double over, but the fire within you kept your eyes open. Your fist tightened over the handle of the Greatsword, and you saw it, there. A flash of white, and you feint as if to swing at them. 

They dodged to the side accordingly. You let one hand drop from the handle, using it to grab onto the enemy’s white hair. There is a burning feeling in your mind, as if something out there could read your thoughts. Whatever it was, they were pleased. 

Their cry of pain is lost in the chaos around you. The world you were pulled into had given in to bedlam as you slammed them into the ground. 

Before their head was severed, you saw their red eyes stare back at you. There was no fear. Only a blank acceptance of defeat. And in the reflection of the sword in your hands as you brought it down, you realized your eyes held the same emotion. 

“Power. It befits you.”

“A most cliche line, if I ever heard one.” You griped. Another enemy of similar appearance came running to you, enraged at the sight of their fallen comrade. You let the daggers glance over your arm, ignoring the stinging cut so as to allow yourself an opening to slip your sword between their ribcage. 

You could hear Revali chastising you for such a reckless maneuver. Survival isn’t as estranged from winning as you think, Stranger. 

The earth rumbled beneath your feet, and turning around you were given a split second to blink before you and many other soldiers from both sides were being flung through the air. The ground practically explodes as blood, muck and mud is flung. 

Landing hard on your side, you feel the muscles in your shoulder pull. Your hand was still wrapped around the hilt of your heavy sword. Clutching it in a death grip, you forced yourself to your feet, shielding your eyes from the debris which was kicked up, trying to peer at the giant thing in the distance. 

“Not all songs are sung. Some. Forgotten.” 

For a moment there is silence. The royal soldiers stand like fresh game, frozen by the sound which reminded you of all those terrible stories. Of prisoners being burned to death in the hollow of a bronze casket. Their screams reverberating; mingling into the metal. 

Terror lanced through your heart when the dust cleared, revealing a giant metal animal on four legs. The sky crackled in brilliant white. Lightning. 

“Shame. Perish they did. Quietly. In glorious battle.” 

Someone knocked into your back, and you yelled out in anger and frustration. As your swords met, lightning flashed once more, revealing the tattooed eye on her unwrinkled forehead. The woman opened her mouth and said something to you in a language you had never heard before as she parried your strikes with her longblade. The sword swung through the air, leaving trails of blue light like the tail of a falling star. “Where the fuck am I?” You swore back. 

“The King ordered them. Buried. Their treasures and children.” 

The beast roared again, lightning striking the earth a short distance away. The ground was dug up again as horses, soldiers and limbs sailed through the air. You looked on in horror before you focused on the woman in front of you again. Her mouth was covered by a dark cloth. Her frame was smaller than yours, but you could see the precision in her stance, the fearlessness in the way she struck against you. 

“The Sheikah. Proud. A stone yields not willingly.” 

The beast roared again. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing. The air felt almost electric. There was warmth again, singing through your skin and providing you with inhuman strength as you wielded your Greatsword, cutting down the woman, then the next Sheikah beside you. 

“I can. Immortalize you. In fire. Blood.” 

The battle continued for what felt like hours. Yet you showed no signs of tiring. Your mind was slowly losing itself to the haze of this neverending skirmish. 

“Good. I understand your plaything now. Sibling.”

“Stop this at once, Din! Look at what you’ve done! Another year of this nonsense and their feeble mind will become mush!”

“Never. Relinquish them. To me.” 

Water began to fall from the sky, hitting the dry and cracking earth. It washed the blood from your skin, drenching your hair and wetting your parched lips. You had forgotten what it was like to feel thirsty. To hunger. To yearn for sleep. 

While the two voices clashed, a soft breeze was felt against your skin, like cold fingers brushing against your back. Such gentleness felt foreign, and immediately you spun around to retaliate. With eyes wide and teeth bared, you lifted your Greatsword against your assailant. 

It confused you to find that no one was there. 

The breeze swept past your cheek, making you shiver.

‘I can help you, little sprout!’

‘Simply, turn the sword against you.’

‘Quickly now! Before the other two notice.’ 

‘There we go, like pulling a splinter. One, two, three—’ 

You could feel yourself bleeding against it. Blood spurted from the wound with each squeeze of your heart. You heard your knees hit the ground as the world began to spin. A darkness was bordering your vision, creating a tunnel which gradually began to narrow. 

Looking down, you saw yourself reflected in the sword. The reflection blinked, though your own eyes remained open. Its mouth curled, whilst yours remained in a tight line. It opened its mouth, cheeks stretching and baring teeth like it had read what a smile was but had never seen a human execute it.

And in your mind, you heard them. Speaking through your own voice. 

“Let us leave this dour spot for greener pastures…”

.

.

.

X—

There is no sudden collapse of ground beneath you, no starlight which steals you away. Instead you blink, and that was that. Black void, without even a shadow. Darkness and solemn quiet. 

Exhaling, the echoing sound of your breath brought a semblance of comfort. It confirmed that this wasn’t some crushing box but at the very least a vast cavern. You held your hands out, unable to judge the distance in front of you let alone where you were. 

You stamped your feet and felt the dirt shift underneath your shoe. Curious, you thought to yourself. Bending down, you brushed what felt like the cool touch of several leaves, dew dripping from the ends of them. Tugging on a few blades easily yielded a bunch which fell from the gaps between your fingers. Grass. 

“Ack!” The bones of your spine straightened, making you stand to attention like a soldier. Your mouth opened without you meaning to, words falling from your lips. 

“Step forward. You can walk and sprint, jump even! Let all your fears melt away, little sprout.” You said, your voice sounding stiff and monotone, odd inflections being added at the end of your sentences. 

Tendons pulled like puppet strings, moving your legs forward in an unnatural gait. The darkness continued as you were forced to move deeper into this space. Several times your arms had bumped roughly into a broken column, or you had stubbed a toe against a pillar. But though it ached your body continued to move forward, refusing to acknowledge the pain. 

Then, you were deposited in front of a rock. Shaking hands were forced to feel around it, with your palm falling down the smooth downward slope of a curled wing, the other grasping on to the point of a beak. It was a statue of a bird. 

A crackling noise resounded, and the air stung as if electrified. Then, there was light. 

There was the roar of the wind, then the statue, a torch holder, erupted into flames before your eyes. A ring of similar bonfires came alive in a wide arc, eventually joining until they made a circle. 

There in the middle was a dense fog. Within it played a scene, like a twisted tableau. 

The world spun, a cyclone of memories. You were in the hammock again. The festivities of the village outside drifted like sweet music, a cold breeze rustling the tapestry coverings of the windows. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that right?” 

Turning in the mess of patterned sheets, you buried your face further into the crook of his neck, the smell of pine and violets making you smile. “Handsome, lovely, and now beautiful? Are you still dreaming or do you really say this to every stranger you meet?”

Curling a wing around your waist, he sleepily pulled you closer. “Just stating facts. While I’m at it let’s add exasperating to that list,” he sighed. “And you’re far from a stranger now.” 

Lifting your head, you found that both his green eyes were open and looking at you. You grinned, watching his whole face soften as he smiled back. “Exasperating? That sounds more like it. I’m surprisingly good at that.” 

His eyes slipped closed as you moved to place a quick kiss on his beak, blue feathers shuddering when you sank deeper into his embrace. “Well then, you’re my moon and stars, Revali. Every constellation in the sky pales in comparison.”

“This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” your hands found his wing under the covers, fingers moving to entwine with his own, holding tight. Resting your head against his chest, you could hear his heartbeat under your ear, thrumming and alive. ”But if it was, I'd have already won.” 

Please, stay. 

You kept your eyes shut, trying to focus on the steady inhale and exhale of his lungs. Listening closely, it sounded more labored, as if he was choking. 

Go back to sleep. 

A sticky substance spilled down your cheek, swiping a finger, you inspected it in the lamplight to be red and thick. Blood. 

Don’t follow me, Revali. 

Any attempts to lift your head were futile, blood began to pool into your lips, tasting like copper. 

You would have been long gone by now. 

You were trapped as the warm body underneath you began to grow cold. His chest stilled, heartbeat drumming slow until to your horror, it stopped completely. 

So be it. 

The air shifted again, and you found yourself suddenly able to lift your head, a sickly ribbon of thick red following you. Lifting your hands proved to be difficult, and as you struggled to stand, you found yourself slipping in a puddle of congealed fat and bone. 

The moblin stood before you, Aryll in its grasp. Rot, decay and death; that trio of horrid stench was more familiar to you than ever, and it reeked of it. 

You’re late. 

You were held by invisible chains to the ground, covered in gore. Seeing the terror in Aryll’s eyes made you fight desperately against your restraints, even as your arm began to pull from its socket. 

Don’t go. 

“This can’t be right. It never went like this!” The words were said helplessly as Aryll called out to you, her cries unintelligible as they mixed with her gasping need to breathe. 

I won’t get hurt.  

You began to sob at the sound of her bones snapping. Her diaphragm crushed to dust like the wings of a little bird. 

Plenty to last me a lifetime. 

The cyclone receded and took the fog along with it. In its absence, the dark forest was clear to you once more. Ancient statues alight like funeral pyres, circling a dark mass at its center. 

If your body was your own, you would have jumped back in surprise. Every nerve screamed to do so as the hulking form of that thing, revealed itself in the light of the fires. 

Divine Beast. 

This was the first time you’d seen it confined to the earth. Its fuschia glowing eyes were dimmed. Yet, even though it was grounded, your heart quivered in fear at the mere sight of the leviathan. 

Then, you saw someone familiar, cowering before it. Their clothes were plain, a basic winter coat to ward away the elements, barely keeping their weak form warm. Around them, star charts littered the floor. 

The glowing eyes flashed, coming alive. 

Why are they standing still? You thought in a panic. 

The air began to sizzle in an all too familiar way. Your eyes refused to blink as the person stood there, frozen dumb. 

The puppet strings were released. 

The muscles in your shoulders suddenly dropped, and you leaned to the side as you greedily inhaled a gulp of air. “Holy hell.” You gasped, your voice your own again. Immediately you dragged your feet forward, pushing past the static numbness and using all your strength to propel you forward. 

Your boots crunched against the precious scrolls and maps, adorned lovingly with constellations and measurements that you once spent hours committing to memory.

The empty sound before the blast stole your breath as you barreled into your past self, grabbing them and rolling away just as the beam eviscerated the grass where you both once stood. 

Grabbing their shoulders, you roughly slammed them into the ground. “Are you stupid!” You yelled into their face. Your words came back to you in that same instant, repeated like a twisted echo.

Their eyes were wide as they looked up at you, the fires reflected in them. Utterly terrified, their mouth moved in a mirror to yours. 

“You just stood there! Fucking coward! It took her! He—he’s going to die.”  “You just stood there! Fucking coward! It took her! He—he’s going to die.” 

“And it’s all your goddesses-damned fault.”  “And it’s all your goddesses-damned fault.” 

You sent a fist at your own self, wanting to cave in the face that you wore in another time. It wasn’t fair, how they lived life so blissfully, how they took everything for granted, how they existed without having known anything. 

But as your knuckles connected with skin, you felt no satisfaction from the act. 

Tears began to build in your eyes as you stood up, hastily wiping them from your cheeks. The past version of you did the same to their own, their gaze still trained on you in fear as their face began to bruise. 

Stumbling away, you fell backwards into the grass. The ruins around you burned and the heat began to singe your skin as a warm breeze, like oven fire, fanned the flames. 

Your past self sat up, massaging their jaw and stared at you unblinking. Bloodshot and beady-eyed, like a doll. Their hands stiffly pulled at their burning skin in unnatural angles, almost like they wished to rip the charred layer off completely. 

Then. Without your own mouth moving, they spoke in a voice that wasn’t yours. 

“And what, little sprout, have we learnt?” 

Your mouth tasted like rust. “Just send me to hell! What are you waiting for?” 

“Always choosing the option to run, to cower and hide.” They lifted their arms as the skin there began to flake and blacken, revealing bone. “You care for no one but yourself.” 

“That’s not—I cared for them. I loved—

“You abandoned them. Need I remind you of all the times you chose death over facing the full round.” The smog made by the fires partially obscured their grinning smile. You didn’t even know your own lips could peel that far. “However, I am benevolent.” 

They reached into their coat, pulling out the blue feather which had followed you through all these lives. “I can end this for you. Grant what my sibling cannot. I’ll take it all away.” 

Your eyes never left that feather, watching as it delicately waved in the oppressive heat, embers so close to singeing it. “Give that back.” 

Gleefully, they crushed it into their hand. “Let it burn with me. And I will restore you to your time. Your star charts, your neighbors farm, your sanity. Like all this had never happened. Is that not what you want?” 

Clenching your fist, you felt the deep ache of every scar that was carved into you. Every night spent without peace, with the anxiety of living wrapped tightly around your neck like a noose. 

The sins which plagued you until you walked this world in a haze of your former self. Aryll’s pain. Revali’s death. The knowledge of these events occurring. This goddess could take that all away. 

Yet, your eyes never left that feather. It’s familiar blue stubbornly showing itself in the cracks of their melting hand. 

“You know what I want?” 

The broken mirror tilted their head, an eye sliding to the side as if no longer sitting correctly in their skull. “Hm?” 

“I want you,” shakily standing up, you made your way towards them. “And your siblings,” with arms trembling in anger, you embraced their burning form, prying the feather from their fists. “To fuck off.” 

The goddess laughed in the prison of your arms, their voice sounding the closest to a human than it ever had in this entire twisted exchange. The flames climbed on to your clothes, excruciating. But it did not matter, you have burned before. 

“Noted, little sprout.” 

.

.

.

X—

The grain of the kitchen table swirled and dipped underneath the pads of your fingers. You focused on the indentations, tracing the marks until you found the chip. Aryll had hit her head there, playing tag with her older brother. It was almost a perfect copy. 

“Take a seat,” a woman said, her golden hair in a braided bun. “Tea will be ready soon.” She wore Medilia’s armor, the crest of the Royal Guard displayed proudly on her back. 

“And which one are you?” Sliding the chair out, you roughly deposited yourself on your side of the table. You noticed it was the place where you always sat whenever you were invited to dinner. “Is this house going to catch fire too? Because you might want to spare me the pyrotechnics. I’ve already seen that happen.” 

The woman shook her head ruefully, her face still obscured as she set down two cups of tea. It was Medilia’s favorite set too, the one her husband had gifted her after their quiet son was recruited to serve the King. 

You took a sip. “Who are you?” 

“A bystander to history,” she said, folding her delicate hands. The accent was regal, not unlike a voice you remembered from other lives ago, panicking over your broken form in the grass. “But that is irrelevant. I am here to grant you guidance”. 

“I’ve had enough of higher powers telling me what to do.” 

The woman’s shoulders shook in quiet laughter. “Apologies.” She said, “you just reminded me of someone.” It was then that she lifted her head, revealing a plain face. Pretty, but fairly unremarkable. “I want to help you.” 

Your hands tightened around the cup, close enough to shatter it if you weren’t careful. “Then tell me how I can save them.”

“The world will end, that is already known. But take comfort in the knowledge that it will be reborn in a hundred years.” 

“Lady, it has been a long day. Day? Year. Hylia’s third toe, I don’t know anymore.” The woman’s head tilted in amusement as you swore. “If you’re going to tell me to give up, then I’m going to stop listening right about now.” 

“You still think you can save him.” 

“I will.” Slamming your hand made the old table shudder, the cups rattling on their saucers. “I swear it. I swear myself to it. Now are we done here?” 

“Mortals always fail to focus on the bigger tapestry.” She sighed, her golden hair shimmering in the afternoon light. Past the windows behind her, the fields leading to Castle Town waved, green and healthy in the late summer sun. “Much sorrow and pain will come to pass, but is it not enough that all this sacrifice will be paid back more than a hundred times in the future?"  

“Excuse my mortal sentiments, but I don’t hold individual souls in such little regard.” 

She raised a brow. “And what of your own?” 

You frowned. "Touché. But I’m…working on it.” 

Taking a sip of her tea, she smiled as if in memory. “I haven’t had an informal conversation like this in a while. I must say, it’s quite refreshing.” 

You shook your head. “That’s great and all, but can we please get back to the point. Return me to the start. I have a lot of explaining to do for someone.” Draining your cup, you saw the Silent Princess at the bottom, its blue core and white lined petals in full bloom. “I can’t do this alone anymore.” 

The woman beamed, and her serene smile reminded you of the statues hidden in quiet alcoves, decorated in offerings and warmed by lit incense. 

Before you could connect the dots, she stood from the table, taking the pot from the stove and refilled your cup. “That’s wonderful to hear.” She said in relief, sounding like a mother proud that her child had added one and one to get two. “Such revelations should be rewarded.” 

“What.”

“Drink that please. Waste not a single drop.” At the sudden intensity in her order, you did as you were told. 

You set the empty cup on the table. Looking at your hands, you flexed them to see that nothing happened.  

“Okay, let’s cut the crap Hylia. What is my purpose in all thi—

.

.

.

X—

Starlight stole you away. 

[archergrid]

“I had a dream. I was in a strange land. A vast wilderness. I went on and on, but met no one. I called, I shouted... but no one answered. I was alone.”

-Akira Kurosawa, Ran

<< Ch1-5 Ch 6-10>>

Chapter 1

Look, I get this question a lot for obvious reasons, so I know you won’t like the answer. It’s dissatisfying. But, because you asked, the best cybersecurity commercially available is something called an air-gapped computer.

An air-gapped computer has no network card. You won’t see a cerulean ethernet cord spouting from the stern of the case. There’s no hard, hollow plastic antenna to receive a wifi signal. It doesn’t have Bluetooth. My compsci professor at Tech explained it like this: there’s a literal wall of air—a gap—between the computer and anything that could inject it with compromising code. This abstinence-only approach makes air-gapped computers cheap, simple, and impenetrably secure.

But much like celibacy, not a lot of people opt for the air-gapped method. What’s the point of a computer, they ask, without e-mail and Twitter and porn? And I understand that. There were days I got so dog-tired of the manual data dumps, of examining each file down to the binary before connecting the USB, of hand-transcribing scraps of code onto sheets of paper, of the day-to-day ennui of existence inside those invisible walls. But when I broke into a system, all I saw back then was each and every way very, very bad things could get in.

The air wall was better. It let me breathe.

My laptop had to be online so I could access those vulnerable systems, but my desktop was air-gapped—a little black lockbox of my pdfs, jpgs, pngs, mp3s, mp4s, xls, txts, zips, bins, bats, dats, all my associate backgrounds and every line of my code. Knowing how safe they were in there calmed me at times like this, when I felt Julian Ek’s omniscient data network watching me like an enormous, electronic eye.

Notifications came like machine-gun fire into my phone. My apartment was dark, black under blackout curtains. I saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing but automated search alert after automated search alert filling my notifications: ek trial, julian ek trial, ek trial update, ek trial verdict, ek inc, joseph chambers, joseph chambers shooting, joseph chambers deepfaEk, deepfaEk, deepfaEk scandal, deepfaEk shooting edit, deepfaEk trial. More and more, on and on. I With dread, I went to Twitter, and there it was in blue and white. #EkAcquitted. It was the #2 trending topic, below #NationalVideoGamesDay. My hands began to shake. It had to be misreported—a mistake. I searched “Ek trial” and clicked the first link, scrolling past Ashlan’s disbarment and the Marshals’ conspiracy convictions to read the 6 words I’d dreaded for 4 years.

Julian Ek acquitted on all charges. 

Ek walked. I went to the Herald for nothing; became a fugitive for nothing. I gave up my parents, my friends, my condo—my dream job obviously. I blew my whole life up, and now I’m stuck here, all alone on the other side of the world. Jeopardy attached, meaning I was officially of no use to anyone; meaning I could never, ever go back home. This dusty, pitch-black 300-square foot apartment really was my life. 

I was hyperventilating. Breath after keening breath, air refused to reach my lungs, only rattle in the back of my throat. My head and stomach and knees went fuzzy. My phone screen smeared as it slipped from my hands. I reached for it and missed. The clatter of it hitting the floor—the dull pain of my thigh hitting the floor too—degraded into garbling static as I sank into gasping, grasping unconsciousness.