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whumptimebaby · 2 years

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Writing Practice??

Y'know, there aren't very many writing drills that I do, but if I'm bored I will do random writing practice, and today I stood in a lot of lines, sooo

I thought I'd share! Even though this little blurb doesn't have anything to do with any of my wips, it is still part of my process, and it's my blog I'm gonna subject you to the bits of narration I wrote today 👺

It's unfinished, unedited, boring, mediocre, and authentic! I think that's something that is important to share. I'm not like, a big-shot author by any means, but I know there are people who like what I create, and get inspired to create from reading my fics (and that means everything to me, it makes me really emotional just to think about 🥲), and I think it's important when you're in a position like that to show the mediocre, the unpolished, the things that you aren't proud of, because in all honesty, most of what I write is absolute unusable garbage! And that's okay!

Anyways, the writing is below the cut!

After feebly (read unsuccessfully) trying to figure out if Hellevator had different ride cycles, they took to using their phone timer. The only thing that *could* be different was the time the ride waited before launching up, and the time that the ride waited before dropping.

It was a good pastime while they cooled off, and waited for the tiny nibblings of food they'd consumed to settle before catching another ride. They wanted to hit the new one at some point, and maybe (finally) catch a ride on the drop tower in question, but for now, to ease their drop tower anxiety, they would time it.

Operations were slow, and time between cycles was long, so they found themselves waiting a significant amount of time.

All things considered though, the park wasn't too busy. Definitely nowhere to sit, but that didn't matter too much.

For the second time in a row, the ride dropped after eleven seconds. They would wait one more time though, just to make sure.

If the log flume was open, the cooling off thing would have been a lot easier, and a lot quicker. Just grab a ride and you're soaked, but it hadn't opened for the season yet.

They thought about the other rides they wanted to hit. Kettle Creek Mine Ride was the only coaster worth riding (that was open anyway), and it definitely wasn't something they wanted to miss.

That made their current list Hellevator, Kettle Creek Mine Ride, and the new flat ride they'd added this year.

The new ride stuck out like a soar thumb, sleek and colourful in a park full of old charm. That didn't matter too much though. It looked like a cool ride. Each car fit a single rider, and after watching it cycle a few times earlier in the day, it looked pretty intense. The bright purple, orange, and pink gave it a mystical, almost fire-like glow in the beating sun.

Another cycle of Hellevator, another elevens seconds, and they knew all that they needed to. They were still gonna put it off, but that was a later issue. For now, they were gonna check if that new ride was open.

It wasn't. They'd have to check back in later.

So they rode SBF Visa Figure Eight coaster, which had much more kick than anything by SBF Visa should. It was themed to ladybugs, and they wondered who's idea it was to theme hell itself to something as innocent as a cute insect.

Intense was not the right word for the coaster. It wasn't intense, it was uncomfortable. For a 2018 addition, it had no right to be as rough as it was, nor did a ride without over the shoulder restraints have the right to have a head banging problem.

After leaving the satan-spawned hunk of metal behind, they passed Hellevator again (no they didn't, they just chickened out of riding it... again), and got in line for Kettle Creek Mine Ride. A backseat ride was about the closest thing to a solid coaster experience as they were getting.

Just to their right stood the glorious, beautiful, wild wooden coaster. She was gorgeous, and easily the best attraction at the tiny amusement park. Maybe the best in all of of western Canada.

But it wasn't operating that day, so they were stuck with the tiny mine train. The line of which moved at a snail's pace.

That's what happened when coasters only run one train. The only redeeming factor was the single position lap bars, allowing for some killer ejector if you got lucky enough to sit in the back.

To make matters even more irritating, the group behind them knew absolutely nothing of what they were talking about.

They tried to be patient with people who didn't know better, they really did. The three guys behind them were intimidated by rides meant to look intimidating. Where was the harm in that?

It still got under their skin though. Maybe it was the heat, the sun laid a thick sheet of warmth on the back of their neck like an unwanted breath, that was probably the real reason they were annoyed. Alas, the guys blabbered on about how The Beast was a ride to be feared, when it was arguably less intense than the coaster they were in line for.

Luckily for them, being a single rider not only cut their time in line short, but also landed them their favourite seat. Maybe being at a park full of people who aren't enthusiasts was a good thing. Listening to people calling a flat ride a coaster? Annoying sure, but in the grand scheme, sitting in the back was well worth it.

With a whole one of their goal rides behind them, they were a little discouraged. Hellevator wasn't getting less nerve-wracking, and the new ride, newly discovered to be named Sky-something-or-other, still wasn't operating.

They took a seat near the restaurant, in the shade, but also in a spot where they couldn't see either attraction. They were starting to doubt they were ever gonna get to Hellevator. Maybe it was just a ride that they needed a friend for. Maybe that wasn't something to be ashamed of.

It wasn't a safety issue. They knew everything about the intimin drop tower that stood before them. It was the anticipation that killed them.

Sitting, waiting for the ride to launch up, and then sitting, waiting for the ride to drop.

If there was none of that, they'd be fine! Somewhere not so far back in their mind, they understood that it wasn't all that different from a lift hill.

Except on a lift hill, you know exactly how much further you have to go before you drop. Even knowing the amount of time it took to launch on Hellevator, they couldn't count reliably enough to eradicate the "oh my god, when's it gonna drop?" thorn in their brain.

They would come back another time, and ride Hellevator with a hype man. Yeah. That would work. A hype man who could count to eleven consistently.

With that, they were left to rerides, or maybe food? They were finally starting to cool down enough to actually feel hungry.

And in all honesty, with the new ride still not operating and the wooden coaster down for maintenance, they didn't really have much interest in rerides anyway. Maybe it was time to wrap it up? Grab some mini donuts and call their ride?

Their ride was still an hour away, go figure.

They watched The Beast cycle. The line was significantly longer than the twenty minute wait they'd been in earlier in the day. If they had one piece of advice for people coming to this park for the first time, it would be to hit The Beast first, because no matter how long the line is at opening, it would triple by the end of the day.

The Beast was easily the best flat ride at the park, no questions asked. It was worth a ride, just maybe not a two hour wait to get on.

It was a pendulum ride, one of their favourite models. They never understood what made pendulum rides scary to the general public, even back when they weren't an enthusiast. To them, it was barely different from a big swing. The sensation of the air hitting their face, the slight floater airtime when you reach the highest point, it just wasn't a particularly rough or fast ride.

#me: i love amusement parks!#also me: complains about amusement park as writing practice #i had a good time i swear #i really did!! i just did the fun stuff first #back when the lines were shorter so i didn't need to write to pass the time #those three guys behind me annoyed me way more than they should have LMAO #i seriously try not to judge people i really really do #but i slept HORRIBLY last night and woke up with a headache that wouldn't go away no matter what i did #and it was HOT #so my patience was at zero istg #mr man was going back and forth like 'am i gonna ride the beast?' MAKE UP YOUR MIND #JUST RIDE IT #side note: why do people go to amusement parks if they aren't gonna ride things?#not theme parks i understand theme parks #but amusement parks??? a park that is pretty much exclusively rides??#anyways whatever 😭#BACK TO THESE MEN BECAUSE #normally this kind of conversation doesn't ruffle me too much #but they were talking SO LOUD #and they were standing so close to me it looked like we were part of the same group #like 😐 give me space please #😐 i'm not partaking in your 'should i? no. yes?' ritual #BUT I HAD FUN 😭 I SWEAR I DID 😭

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myalchod · 1 year

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🍈 and 🍓 for the ask game.

🍈 Who’s your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics? Free pass to rant about blorbo opinions. Farah Dowling is currently the blorbo most responsible for eating my life and my brain. *shakes fist* Which of course means my brain is a complete mess of headcanons and ideas and what-ifs, but of course I can't think of any to put down now, as opposed to when I'm rambling at people. I think one of my biggest, though: as smart as Farah is, she's rather terrible at reading emotions, especially her own or as regards her; it's probably exacerbated by her time as Rosalind's student in particular feeding into native anxieties and making her second-guess herself a lot. (Saul in particular grounds her and provides a much-needed point of steadiness, whether she realises it or not, despite the fact that he's probably the worst person for her to evaluate her emotional responses towards. I mean, I love writing mutually oblivious pining, but these two are a whole new level of idiot.) Clothes as armour. Hair as armour. So much armour and appearances and awkward relationships, because she tells Bloom she became a figurehead but it wasn't just as regards the students -- she distanced herself from the people closest to her as well, because maintaining those appearances was hard AF at first and she needed to get her feet under her, and once she did it was hard to come back. There are moments where it's easier, but there's a whole lot wrapped up inside that never gets let free, and that too goes to so many unresolved issues. Her biggest fear is becoming too much like Rosalind, with a simultaneous echo of ricocheting too far in the other direction and failing. Her biggest fear is failure, with occasional moments of paralysis that conversely lead to impulsive action at other points. (Also the whole concept of people bound to places and Farah as Alfea's guardian is an entire thing that is now permeating most of my fic, oops, and I could go on and on about that particular headcanon but maybe I should spend more time writing the fic that spawned the notion instead?)

🍓 What’s a fic you’ve written you feel is underrated? For recent works? Probably (they said) repent, which has since shaped a lot of how I look at Rosalind since. (Also I broke Farah's teapot and I'm not sorry.) Of my Silrah fics, but not for thee is probably the one I'd point to -- role-reversal fic for a kink meme prompt that came out gen/pre-ship, but I had a lot of fun figuring out who Saul and Farah would be if that dynamic had flipped. (And then I wrote more because more ideas popped up and also knife-fighting Farah was a thing that needed to happen, even if that never made it into the posted fic, and you don't even want to know how often that happens ...)

[ ask me another? ]

#asked and answered #writer asks #ask meme

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votederpycausemufins · 3 years

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hermit!Tommy au keeps living rent free in my brain and i need to get it out to write my other stuff. writing sort of helps but it’s also letting other aus in!

like in this i’m also using triplet au and some avian race stuff plus one au thing i’m adding because i like it!

send help, i don’t know enough about dream smp to write it well but i’m writing anyway and maybe it’s good but i have Anxiety™.

uh, anyway, part one of this new idea, if you have any idea who would help dream get tommy back like this, tell me cause otherwise i’m only using tubbo techno and dream cause i’m not sure who would realistically join.

oh yeah and @petrichormeraki for making the hermit!tommy au and i think also the triplet au? and then also @strawberrylemonz because i didn’t realize they had more chapters of their one fic and i binge read all of memories in the stars so now Grian and Tommy are brothers in this fic.

Dream smiled wildly under his mask as he stared at the portal that stood in front of him. It was no nether portal, the only resemblance being the purple color between the blocks of the frame. Said blocks were eight pure diamond blocks making an almost five by three shape. It had taken months to learn of the design and get it to work properly, but here it was. Known only as the infinity portal, Dream knew this was just what he was after.

A few other players stood near him, having assisted in the creation of the portal at Dream’s demands and threats. It had started when Tommy disappeared. When everyone realized, there were a range of emotions, but almost everyone knew that there would be no way to find Tommy. They hadn’t noticed for who knows how long after he left, leaving no trail. Dream was the only one who thought there might be a way to find his lost ‘friend’. And that idea became real when at a MCC tournament with Tubbo, the compass the boy always wore stopped spinning once again. And even then, learning that had been chance when in the middle of a game the normally hidden item had come loose.

Dream never saw Tommy so he assumed that he was simply in the crowd and not participating, which made it harder to pin him down, but with the return portals going group by group, it was easy to see the compass stop tracking Tommy after the Hermitcraft group left.

The initial knowledge left Dream shocked and even doubting a return of Tommy. That place was known as a very well protected place. It was likely that Tommy’s arrival caused those that resided in Hermittown would have their admin making things harder to bypass. And at the same time, someone who could get through like Tommy did, even by chance, would likely be heavily monitored. It’s just how Dream would do it.

But not wanting to give up, Dream researched into these people and learned how the Hermits would open their gates briefly before moving on. Based on previous patterns, there was no way Dream would wait months and months before that happened again, but some knowledge has seeped over from the previous event.

Some of the Hermits had found a way to create something called the infinity portal, and immediately Dream knew that would be his way to Tommy. If anything were to get past the Hermit’s protection, it would be something of their own design.

And now here it was, his very own Infinity portal. He had even used his admin powers to give it a little upgrade. A duplicate of Tubbo’s compass was placed into one of the blocks making up the frame. It was slightly dented and scorched from previous attempts and was currently sparking dangerously, but it was all holding.

Now, speaking of Tubbo, the boy was just to Dream’s right. He grabbed Tubbo a little harshly and pulled him forward. “See, it finally works!” Dream spoke, his voice edging complete madness. “And I’m sure it wouldn’t have without that little trinket of yours, so why don’t you have the honors Tubbo?”

Normally Dream wouldn’t want to give anyone else the chance to get to Tommy before him, but he was smart and knew how to survive. While the portal looked stable and working for the most part, the sparks from the compass told another story. He could go in first and potentially die, or he could use a test dummy.

Tubbo was too eager to see Tommy once again and didn’t see any problem with going first. He stepped onto the portal and barely gave a second thought about Dream’s Request to come back once he was through to say where exactly they landed. He watched as the world around him warped and turned purple, just as with a nether portal, but the bright white flash that followed was different.

The first thing Tubbo saw was a large turquoise building, but to see it better, he took a step out of the portal and fell into the water a few blocks below. He looked back up at the portal and then at the ocean floor before using the blocks he had on him to build back up to the portal. As he did so, he could feel his communicator buzzing madly. Tubbo finally looked at the thing once he reached the portal again and made a small platform around it.

<MumboJumbo> Did someone make a new cam-drone?

<Tango> Not me

<Grian> Might be Tommy, he’s the only one afk right now

<joehillssays> name sounds familiar and he doesn’t normally use them, so might be an old one.

Tubbo stared at the communicator, there were more messages, but only the first few mattered to him, specifically the message with Tommy’s name in it. He couldn’t be completely sure that it was his friend though, but before he could look at the list of other users, two new messages came in.

<TommyInnit> Guys, please just let me have this one, it’s really important.

<TommyInnit> Tubbo how the fuck

Tubbo couldn’t help but tear up at the message. He started typing back, sure his message was coming out poorly due to the tears messing with his already impared vision, but there was a ping as his message was sent before he walked through the portal again.

~~~~~

Tommy had finished afking near Mumbo’s industrial district, having turned off his communicator so he could just sit and watch the machines go. As he turned everything off again, he unmuted the device just to have a flood of messages show up. He scrolled up until a yellow one caught his eye.

Tubbo_ joined the server

Tubbo. His Tubbo. How was he here? Tommy had to know, and even if the other Hermits would get upset at his language, it was all he could think of right now. He sent a message, hoping Tubbo would see it and that this wasn’t all some huge mistake. After the messages were sent, he stared at the communicator until another message was sent. Seeing Tubbo’s name in a message made his heart soar, but it immediately seemed to stop as he actually read the response.

<Tubbo_> Dream’s been trying to find a way to you for months and he finally did it! I’m going to be right back with him and the others!

Tubbo_ left the server.

Tubbo was one thing but Dream was another. Tommy could feel himself trembling. He had found a way in. Tommy’s worst fears were coming true. But then another message came in.

<Grian> Alright, guess I’m breaking out the axe again

<Stressmonster101> I’m already headed to my brewing area.

<xisumavoid> Looks like they used an infinity portal.

<Docm77> I have nothing to do with it

Tommy managed to smile just a little at how quick everyone was jumping into action at the mention of his own admin. As more Hermits chimed in, Tommy sent his own message.

<TommyInnit> Dream is the real threat. I don’t think Tubbo would be helping if he knew the full story or is being threatened or something. I’m not sure who else will come, but just maim and capture anyone besides those two unless I say otherwise.

~~~~~

After what seemed like an eternity, Tubbo stepped back through the portal. He was dripping wet but had a huge smile on his face and Dream knew Tommy had to be on the other side.

“He’s there! He’s really there!” Tubbo was practically bouncing around.

“You’re wet.” Came the deadpan tone of Techno’s voice as he stepped closer, now knowing the portal was working.

“Yeah, it sort of spawned over an ocean but I made a platform and everything.”

“Good job Tubbo.” Dream spoke before anyone else could. “Now we can go help free Tommy from wherever these people have trapped him and bring him home.”

“Well, when I showed up, Tommy was able to use a communicator which is how I know he’s really there, so maybe he isn’t trapped and need rescuing?” Tubbo asked meekly.

“If that were true, wouldn’t he have come back Tubbo? If not for all of us, if not for his home, why didn’t he come back for you?”

Tubbo didn’t respond and Dream pushed past him to be right in front of the portal. He turned around to face the others he had collected there and pulled out his axe. “We don’t know what all will be there to ‘greet’ us once we go looking, so better to arm yourselves now. And the sooner we go through, the better.” And with that, he stepped into the portal.

When he reached the other side, his communicator immediately started buzzing. With no one in sight, Dream pulled it out to read what these Hermits were getting up to. He couldn’t help but laugh at the messages coming in. It seemed that they were torturing Tommy or something. This would be easy. Behind him, more people from the SMP came through the portal. They had weapons at the ready and even looked a little disappointed at the lack of a battle on the other side.

Dream pointed out the two landmarks that were best visible, a large turquoise tower and an island littered with buildings. While the tower was closer, Techno pointed out the building was made of warped wood, so it would be tough to deal with. The island on the other hand, it was so full with buildings that obviously plenty of these Hermits had to be living there. It was surprising it didn’t look like more of a mess.

Tubbo was the only one to notice a small island with a single chest on it. After close inspection, the chest was in no way trapped and Dream laughed when he saw it was filled with boats. “It’s like they’re asking us to attack them!”

After placing down a number of boats, Dream and the rest of his group rowed towards the island. A few people stayed out of the boats and swam in the water. While they weren’t as fast, it was better than having everyone vulnerable as they rowed.

They had nearly reached the island when there was the distinct sound of a firework being fired. Techno was the first to jump out his boat, looking for the source, but as the seconds went on, there was no explosion. Instead, another firework went off and a shadow passed over the boats.

Looking up, the group saw a figure with giant wings, a trail of smoke behind them. Techno fired his crossbow at them, but the flier swerved out of the way before diving at the group. Boats moved to get out of the flight path, but Dream stood in place and readied his axe. As the figure grew closer, he smiled. Perfect height, red shirt, blonde hair. That was Tommy. “Tommy, glad to see you. It’s been ag-” Dream was cut off and stopped smiling as an axe blade hit him just as Tommy passed him.

He was about to speak again when there was a laugh. One that sent shivers down his spine. Dream looked around, but the source could only be from the one flying around him. That wasn’t Tommy. “A-Attack the imposter!” He managed to get out, pushing down his fear. There was only one person with that laugh. The dreamslayer.

As Grian swooped down for another attack, a yell from the nearby shore stopped everyone in their tracks, even making Grian slow down as it was someone yelling at him. “Grian! Get back here and give us a chance to be diplomatic about this!” Looking towards the island ahead, Dream could see a figure standing at the shore which the avian now flew towards before landing. Someone aligned with Grian was potentially dangerous as well, but Dream has an army while this new person wanted a peaceful option.

Still, it was an opportunity to get closer safely, so Dream obliged, having Techno follow him. The warrior begrudgingly agreed, this was for his brother after all. He hopped out of his boat and climbed into the back of the one Dream was rowing. Within a few moments they had reached the shore and Techno growled slightly at the sight of this new person. They seemed to have an attempted copy of Tommy’s face as a mask. The one Dream mistook for Tommy wore an identical mask.

“Hello there. I’m Scar, mayor of Hermitcraft. I’m sure you’re here for Tommy, but I’m afraid he does not want to return with you, and we don’t have that many slots available for new comers at the moment.”

Techno crossed his arms at this ‘mayor’ while Dream let out a curt laugh. “I’m sure that’s what you think, but Tommy is one of us. He has to come back. Especially since staying here leaves his family behind.” Dream gestured to Techno.

“Hey, if they fill out the right paperwork and what not,” Grian started, Scar attempting to interject that he would have to be filling out the paperwork too before being shushed. “The rest of the family can come live here. Isn’t that right Techno?”

Techno barely gave any reaction and Grian shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, I get it. Haven’t seen you in who knows how long. It’s fine.”

Dream glanced over towards Techno. “You know Grian?” Techno replied with a no at the same time Grian replied with a yes. “Either way, that doesn’t matter. Tommy is coming with us.” And Dream swung his axe. Grian quickly intercepted it, but that’s why he had brought backup. Techno used the gap Grian had left and used his own axe on Scar. It only took a single hit as the mayor had come without any armor. In fact, the only things that fell to the ground were two masks, one of Tommy and the other of Scar.

As Scar was killed, everyone’s communicator buzzed. Dream smiled, now it was a two on one, something this dreamslayer couldn’t possibly win against. But his smile fell as Grian gave a smile of his own. “You know we were giving you a chance. But now everyone knows what’s going on.”

Dream gave a nod and Techno lifted Grian by his shirt. In his other hand he held his axe which was now being positioned over the parrot wings Grian sported. That made the avian flinch which Dream was glad of, but before the axe could fall, there was the sound of plenty of fireworks going off and then the sky was filled with other hermits, all equipped with elytra.

#hermit!tommy au #hermitcraft #dreamsmp #oh no a war #tommyinnit #tubbo #dreamwastaken #grian #goodtimeswithscar #technoblade #still not a fan of how dream's persona eminates someone... problematic

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nctadoll · 3 years

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Aight, so, it’s time for one of these posts. I make these posts occasionally on my other blogs, so if you follow a few of my other blogs, then you might be rereading a bit— However, quite a bit has happened since my last post regarding this subject. I make these posts as, updates / warnings I suppose, as I feel they’re warranted whenever a new blog of mine gets any kind of traction.

Intense trigger heavy content below the cut.

For those not in the know, I’m J. I went by ‘Jake’ for a number of years, but about a year ago I decided to shorten it, it was just simpler that way. I’m currently 21 years old, and I’ve been writing on this platform since I was 13. Which is kinda crazy looking back on it, amazing how time flies like that.

Within the last... Five or so years, something started happening to me, something that I wasn’t really familiar with on a self basis, but I gotta go further back to properly provide context. Starting in 2011, making me 11 at the time, my family moved from our first house, this brought along MANY challenges as a move typically does— However, shortly after the move, my father lost his job. This, did a lot to him, severely damaging his mental stability. This continued until 2016?? ( My memory of exactly when is foggy ) When he was kicked from the residence over physical domestic abuse issues. He lived away for a year, and then he returned. Then, almost a year later, it happened again, ending with him hospitalized and kicked out once again ( this took place on my 18th birthday lmao ), where he remains gone till this day. Though, given the state of the things happening, that might be changing in the coming weeks.

He was eventually diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, which, is an extremely heavy mental disorder to have. And a few months ago, I was diagnosed with the exact same disorder. Up until the age of about 16 / 17 I never had massive issues with mental health, I was happy and never really felt any downtime. That changed, as mood swings became common, and I found myself combative and easy to anger, which was something that was never the case before. My family just excused it as puberty as they do.

For those unaware, BPD causes... Multiple horrid things. Such as fear of abandonment, unclear / shifting self image, impulsive and self destructive behavior, explosive anger, intense paranoia and suicidal tendencies. I can safely say, I see and deal with all of this. Now, this has manifested in multiple ways online, many in ways that harm my friends. What’ll happen, is I’ll grow so intensely paranoid of little things, that things will build and build until I have an Event where I cut myself from friends and delete blogs or accounts. Then, a few hours later, or in intense cases DAYS later, I’ll come down from this hell high, and remember the shit I did, or sometimes I’ll even have no recollection of the things I’ve done- Leading to piecing together why some friends disappeared or why they won’t speak to me.

One of the most damaging things, can be the warped perception of everything around you. All of this, has wildly damaged my social abilities over the years— And that’s perhaps one of the most difficult parts, what was simple for me years ago, is suddenly a lot more difficult. It’s led to an intense social anxiety and it leads to you just, wildly fearing how you’ll fuck up the good things you have going for you. Regardless of if you want to or not. It’s so, unbelievably damaging and corruptive. It’s caused me to become this, horrid thing in the eyes of old friends, and I can’t apologize enough. It spawned this, desire to fight and feel a rush of conflict, hence the impulsive behavior.

It’s something in this weird window, it isn’t me, but at the same time it technically is. I’ve lived my life so desperately trying to never bother anyone around me, the stress of the idea of bothering someone often keeps me from doing anything at all. Which is why this is such a problem. Over the last few months, I’ve been put on medication, and it’s really been helping me, more so than I had anticipated... My impulsive moments aren’t really happening anymore, and while I have down moments, they don’t lead to shitty behavior anymore.

I bring these kinda things up, because in the off chance I’m WRONG about how helpful the medication is, or something gets fucked up with it— I want people to know ahead of time.. It’s a lot to ask my friends to put up with it, and I’m not saying they have to— BPD is a lot, and I don’t blame anyone that would rather avoid it, it’s intense. I also know a bunch of people that, won’t speak to me over issues like this, I guess I kinda hope that one day they’ll at least be able to see this and understand. I don’t need forgiveness, because at the end of the day, I did the things I did, blocking and isolating, I did it— I don’t know if I deserve it, but I at the very least wanna be understood. I think, for those unaware, it creates this, weird idea of what I am, like I’m purposefully trying to do them wrong, and that can’t be further from the case.

If you’ve read all of this, I greatly appreciate it. It puts a lot of ease on my mind. This is also open for discussion or conversation, should you wish to know more or anything, I’m completely open to talk.

#suicide mention tw #physical abuse tw #mental abuse tw #／(◕ x ≦ )＼ —『 OOC 』#I make these to... Warn & update I guess #It eases my mind to inform others of my situation #and it also helps to just‚ get it out there #I don't have many outlets to discuss it‚ or at least.. Feel comfortable discussing it

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carriagelamp · 2 years

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CarriageLamps Favourite Books From 2021

This is an incredibly late end-of-the-year book round up, but December ended up being Way Too Busy for me to get it finished and posted. And I figured I should probably get it done before, like... I started on my January book list, rip

This feels like an odd list, but lbr it was an odd year and my reading habits apparently reflected on it quite a bit. These books helped make it a little bit easier to get through.

I wrote more detailed descriptions about all of these through out the year, depending on which month I read them in, but here’s also some quick blurbs:

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

I read the whole Murderbot series this year and loved with with my entire heart and soul. A scifi story about a SecUnit who hacks its own governor module not so it can go on a murderous rampage and destroy humanity, but so it can do its job in the most mediocre way possible, watch space soap operas, and try to ignore the intense inbuilt anxiety.

Bear by Marian Engel

Horny Canadian literature that does, indeed, involve fucking a bear because when Marian Engel is given a challenge she doesn’t fucking pussy out. I started it as a joke, but hey guys? It actually won the Governor General’s Award for a reason. It’s actually a really solid piece of literature that gives you a lot of things to think about, I genuinely enjoyed it.

FRNCK by Olivier Bocquet and Brice Cossu

A phenomenal bande desinée series about an teenage boy who runs away from the orphanage he lives at, and ends up getting swept off to the prehistoric era where he has to contend with cavemen, hostile floral and fauna, cannibals, and a tragic lack of vowels. Beautifully drawn, hilariously funny, and frankly a crime that you can’t buy them in English. Book 4 was an amazing climax to the current arc and I’m happily reading the second arc now.

From the Holocaust to Hogan’s Heroes, the Autobiography of Robert Clary

I got deeply back into the show Hogan’s Heroes to help cope with pandemic stress and decided to buy a copy of Robert Clary’s autobiography that recounts his childhood, to his time in concentration camps during the Holocaust, to his career as an actor afterwards. Fantastic read, and I would totally recommend it to anyone who’s a fan of either Robert Clary specifically or WWII history in general.

The Game by Linsey Miller

I will devotedly read Linsey Miller’s books, even if I am very slow at getting to them and have been struggling to read over this pandemic. This novella was a change from her previous stories, and a fun one. Instead of fantasy and magic, The Game is about an annual grad game that the local grade twelve students participate in. It starts out as normal, before taking a shocking and deadly turn. Now the main character seems to be mysteriously wrapped up in it all and there’s no answers to what’s happening in sight.

MASH by Richard Hooker

Along with Hogan’s Heroes I got back into MASH as well, and decided I should read the novel for the first time. Can’t say the same for the sequel, but this book at least was hilariously funny and I can see how it spawned such a good show, even if they’re quite different in characters and tone. For those unfamiliar, MASH is about a doctor named Hawkeye Pierce who was conscripted against his will into a M*A*S*H unit during the Korean war, and all the crazy things he and his fellow conscripts do to stay sane amid the horror of war. It’s crude, but ultimately too fun not to enjoy.

Minecraft: The Island by Max Brooks

I started this as a joke but somehow it was actually really good. And I say this as someone with an almost negative interest in Minecraft. It’s about a character who wakes up on a deserted island, with no memory of who they are or how they got there, and has to learn from the ground up what to do to survive. And since it’s written by Max Brooks, an author who writes legit zombie survival novels, it takes the entire premise way more seriously than most would. Imagine how horrific it would be to wake up with no idea how your new body works, what the physics or limitations of this world are, or what these things trying to kill you are. It’s basically a Minecraft isekai but taken serious. Shockingly good, would recommend honestly.

Sweep: The Story of a Girl and her Monster by Jonathan Auxier

A magical realism book set in Victorian England, about a chimney sweeper who is just trying to survive until she finds herself caught in a chimney fire… and is saved by the strangest of creatures.

The Southern Book Club’s Guide to Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix

The author really describes it best:

“Because vampires are the original serial killers, stripped of everything that makes us human — they have no friends, no family, no roots, no children. All they have is hunger. They eat and eat but they’re never full. With this book, I wanted to pit a man freed from all responsibilities but his appetites against women whose lives are shaped by their endless responsibilities. I wanted to pit Dracula against my mom. “As you’ll see, it’s not a fair fight.”

A very interesting novel, with lots of delicious tension.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites by Joy Demorra

A book that has a little bit of everything. A disabled werewolf, a very political vampire with serious anxiety, and a mysterious woman investigating the death of ancient, magical trees. I’m not sure I can describe it in a way that does it justice -- it’s fast-paced, full of sincerity and heart, and bounces between a hilarious queer romance and a relentless, amusing social satire. One of my absolute favourite novels from this year and I can’t wait for the sequel.

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey

After reading River of Teeth I desperately wanted more Weird Western Vibes, and to my delight discovered that Sarah Gailey herself has written more Weird Western Novels. This novella is about a dystopian regressive future with a wild west flavour. It follows one young woman who, horrified by her “morally wrong” and illegal love for women, decides to run away and join the travelling librarians, a group of people who are supposed to be some of the most morally upright women you can find. Who else could help her but them? It involves a lot of queer characters, gun slinging, and humour.

wishtree by Katherine Applegate

The story of a much beloved neighbourhood tree who is the home to all sorts of animals. He loves all his animal friends and watches over the neighbourhood — until one day a slur is graffitied over him and now there’s talk of simply cutting him down… it’s an incredibly touching that looks at how one life can touch so many others, and what it means to be a community.

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petrichoravellichor · 3 years

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Title: A New Kind of Life

Wordcount: ~10k

Rating: T

Summary: What if, when Sam and Dean break into the Empty, Cas isn’t the only one they save? A post-15x19 fix-it fic in which Crowley gets a second shot at the redemption (and family) he deserves.

(Read on Ao3)

********************

Chapter 2 (of 5) (Ch. 1, Ch. 3, Chs. 4 & 5)

Days go by. Crowley remains in his room, keeping the door locked and stubbornly ignoring any attempts by Sam or Dean to gain entrance, although he does spare a breath to shout that if they want something to do, they can go ward the rest of the Bunker against further intrusions from certain Hell witches. In the end, the brothers leave him alone, and Crowley tells himself he’s glad. It nearly works; he is, after all, a very good liar, even to himself.

Then comes a newer knock, a softer one, followed by a voice Crowley recognizes as belonging to the new God-Kid, Jack: “Hello? Mr. Crowley? Are you still in there?”

And maybe it’s because he’s bored—it’s certainly not because he’s lonely— but Crowley decides to answer. “Why are you knocking?” he snaps. “Can’t you just blow the bloody door off its hinges?”

A beat of silence; then: “I...could, but it wouldn’t be very polite.”

Wouldn’t be very—?! Crowley gapes at the door; dear God, the boy really was Castiel’s son. Eventually, Crowley asks, “What do you want?”

“Do you know how to play chess?”

Whatever Crowley is expecting, it isn’t that. He goes to the door, unlatching the bolt and opening it a crack. “What?”

“Do you know how to play chess?” Jack repeats and holds up a battered old set. “I found this in the storeroom a while back, but I don’t know how to play, and neither do Sam or Dean.”

And it’s...strange. Crowley knows, logically, that this is the golden-eyed man he saw in the Empty, the supremely powerful being who is not only Lucifer’s spawn but also the new God; he knows this...yet somehow, as Jack stands before him and smiles almost shyly, Crowley can’t help but think Jack looks rather...small.

He frowns, opening the door wider. “What about Castiel?” Crowley demands archly. “Surely he’s familiar with what it means to be a pawn.”

Unfortunately, the jab appears to go right over the boy’s head. “He knows what all the pieces are called,” Jack says, nodding, “but he’s never played before. Have you?”

Crowley has. He actually rather likes chess, although it’s been some time since he’s faced a worthy opponent. As King of Hell, he’d of course been able to order other demons to play with him, but most of them were so abysmally bad at it that he’d stopped bothering after a while. “Why do you ask?” he says, instead of answering.

“Will you teach me?”

The request catches Crowley off-guard; he can’t help but feel it’s some sort of joke. “You want me,” he says slowly, “to teach you how to play chess.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Oh.” Jack’s face falls; he looks down. “Okay. Sorry for bothering you; I’ll leave you alone.”

Jack turns and begins to walk away, and the sight really shouldn’t bother Crowley...but it does. He feels a sort of painful pressure building in his chest, and suddenly, the thought of being alone any longer is downright unbearable. Bollocks...

“Wait!” Crowley calls, stepping out into the hallway as Jack turns to peer hopefully over his shoulder. “Just...wait. I’ve changed my mind. The answer is yes.”

Jack beams. “You mean it?”

And he looks so bloody happy that Crowley has to focus his gaze on Jack’s shoulder; looking too long at that smile feels like staring into the sun. “I said as much,” he grumbles. “What more do you want?”

“Can we play in the library? The lighting’s better there.”

Crowley flicks his gaze back to Jack’s face, fully prepared to say no, they’ll play in his quarters or not at all...but Jack is giving him these blasted, begging eyes that Crowley would bet good money were learned from Sam, and what actually comes out is, “Lead the way.”

*****

They take to having daily lessons in the library. Crowley demonstrates various openings and defenses, and when they progress to actual matches, he shows no mercy, checkmating Jack’s king in what feels like a record number of moves.

Still, what Jack lacks in natural ability, he makes up for with eagerness to learn and ample appreciation of Crowley’s knowledge, which is...actually rather nice, if Crowley’s being honest with himself; he can’t remember the last time anyone appreciated him for anything.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel look in on them from time to time, although Crowley pretends not to notice them. Once, he catches a glimpse of a woman Jack says is called Eileen Leahy.

“She’s Sam’s girlfriend,” Jack explains brightly as he takes one of Crowley’s pawns with his remaining bishop. “Sam brought her back from the dead after a hellhound killed her.”

Ah. That explains the dirty look...Crowley frowns, moving a knight to capture Jack’s bishop. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Sam, years ago, that he hadn't known who Eileen was when he lent a hellhound to the British Men of Letters, and besides, they were the ones who’d decided to sic said hellhound on the woman, not him. It’s not his fault the bastards had apparently thought it sporting to use an invisible weapon against someone who couldn’t hear it coming. If Crowley had wanted to kill Eileen, he would have at least had the decency to use a weapon she could see. Still, what’s done is done, and Crowley does his best not to dwell on it. The topic of hellhounds is, after all, rather painful at present, given that he still doesn’t know what’s become of Juliet.

Not for the first time, Crowley curses himself for losing his temper with his mother before having learned the fate of his favorite hellhound. Was Juliet still in Hell, where he’d left her? Had she been well-cared for in his absence? What if one of his adversaries had harmed her out of spite? What if his mother had harmed her out of spite? Crowley has no way of knowing, not unless he wants to contact his mother again or just show up in Hell, and neither option inspires optimism. Rowena could very easily lie to him over the phone, and setting foot in Hell feels far too akin to walking into a trap: enough of Crowley’s enemies have probably survived the past few years that he’d be stabbed the moment he got through the gates, and for what? Only to learn that Juliet had been butchered years ago? At least as things currently are, he can still hold onto the chance, however slim, that Juliet is alive. If only there were some way to know…

Go on then, universe, Crowley thinks savagely, give me a bloody sign.

No sooner does the thought form than Crowley hears the click of paws against the Bunker's floor. He freezes, hardly daring to believe...but his hopes are abruptly dashed when a moment later, a tan, scruffy-looking mutt who is neither Juliet nor a hellhound enters the library. The dog pauses when it catches sight of him seated across from Jack at the table, then growls.

Jack looks over and smiles. “Hey, boy, it’s okay,” he calls soothingly, reaching a hand down to get the dog’s attention. “This is Mr. Crowley; he’s a friend. Come say hi.”

To Crowley's surprise, the dog scampers forward, apparently willing to take Jack’s word on the matter. It stops next to Crowley’s chair and sniffs him curiously until Crowley reaches out and hesitantly pats its head, at which point it starts wagging its tail and lets out a friendly sort of bark. The sound fills Crowley with a sense of unexpected warmth.

“When did you lot get a dog?” he asks, glancing back at Jack as the dog lies down at his feet.

“A little over a week ago,” Jack replies. “Dean found him after Chuck made everyone disappear. His name is Miracle.”

“Miracle,” Crowley repeats, looking down at the dog, which yawns back at him, apparently settling in for a nap. “Of course.”

After they finish their lesson, Crowley starts to return to his room, only to hear Miracle trailing after him into the hall. He turns to regard the dog with a frown.

“If it’s treats you’re after,” Crowley says, “I haven’t got any.”

Miracle cocks his head, seeming to consider him for a moment, then pads over, tail wagging and eyes bright. “Woof.”

Crowley arches a brow. “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

“Woof.”

“Right.” Crowley sighs. “Well, come on, then,” he says, turning and continuing the rest of the way to his room, Miracle trotting alongside him. “You’re no hellhound, but I suppose you’ll do for company.”

And to himself, with grudging approval: Well played, universe. Well played.

*****

More days pass. Crowley spends most of his time in his room, leafing through books borrowed from the Bunker library with Miracle curled up at the foot of his bed. The dog comes to visit him more often than not, scratching insistently at the door until Crowley lets him in. Having him around doesn’t make Crowley’s anxieties over Juliet fade away, but it does lessen the sting of her absence, if only a little.

Jack also stops by with increasing frequency, and Crowley honestly still doesn’t know what to make of him. Lucifer’s blood flows in the boy’s veins, and by all accounts, that should make Jack terrible beyond reason, a vicious, manipulative creature whose only goal is to bring about the downfall of mankind in the most horrible way imaginable.

Instead, Jack sits cross-legged on Crowley’s bed and talks cheerfully about Star Wars or whatever other interest has his attention that day, and his only vice seems to be an insatiable sweet tooth. During one of his visits, he asks about Crowley’s life before they met, and there’s something so maddeningly sincere about the way he does it that Crowley finds himself telling Jack more than he means to, about himself, about Hell, about his mother...

By the time he finishes, Crowley feels raw and a little embarrassed at having said so much, but Jack just smiles softly. “It’s okay, Mr. Crowley,” he says. “We can be more than the people we come from; my dads taught me that. We can choose to be good.”

Crowley isn’t so sure about that, at least not as far as he himself is concerned. His soul is about as damned as a soul can get, and besides, his choices have a nasty habit of blowing up in his face. Still, it’s...a nice thought, if nothing else.

He’s still thinking about it later that night, long after Jack’s gone off to Heaven for a bit to do whatever it is he and Amara do up there. Crowley’s sitting in the dark kitchen having a cup of tea—cheap stuff that comes in a bag, unfortunately, but at least there’d been a kettle—when Castiel appears in the doorway, an almost-silhouette against the soft glow of the hall light, and peers in at him through the darkness.

Crowley stares stonily back. Apparently, his assessment of the shift in Dean and Castiel's dynamic had been correct: Castiel is barefoot, wearing a t-shirt and sweats that were probably once Dean’s or maybe still are. Crowley can practically smell Dean’s scent on the clothes even from where he sits, and the low-quality tea does nothing to chase the bitterness from his mouth. Who would have thought that all it would take to tear away whatever final shred of heterosexuality Dean Winchester had been clinging to all these years was a deathbed love confession followed by a romp in the Empty? Not that Crowley cares a whit about that; he doesn't, not even a little bit, not at all.

“Hello, Castiel,” he says darkly. “Out for a stroll? You should try the dungeon; from what I recall, it’s lovely this time of night.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t know,” he says evenly, “having never spent the night there.” Then, before Crowley can think of a suitable comeback, Castiel gestures at an empty stool on the other side of the table. “May I?”

Crowley shrugs. “This is your home, not mine. You don’t need my permission to do anything.”

“Even so, I’d like to have it.”

“Then consider it had. I’ll take my tea elsewhere.”

Castiel frowns. “There’s no need for that.”

Crowley lets his eyes linger on Castiel’s shirt, on Dean’s shirt, then snaps his gaze back to Castiel’s face. “Not for you, perhaps.”

Silence. Crowley is hyperaware of the clock on the wall, ticking out each passing second as they stare each another down, and he half hopes Castiel will charge, practically dares him to. Crowley’s not stupid—he knows his odds against an ordinary angel aren't particularly good, let alone a former leader of garrisons—but at the moment, he doesn’t care: worst-case scenario, Castiel kills him and he goes back to the Empty. Maybe if Crowley's lucky, he’ll actually get a funeral this time.

Eventually, however, Castiel’s shoulders relax, and he sighs. “You should know,” he says, quietly, “I bear you no ill will over our past grievances.”

Crowley bristles; for a second, he considers getting up and throwing the first punch himself. He isn’t sure what Castiel is playing at, but whatever it is, he’s not in the mood for games. “Of course you don’t," he growls. "They all worked out in your favor.”

Castiel regards him carefully. “You’re referring to Dean.”

“I’m referring to everything!” Crowley snaps, nearly shattering his cup as he slams it down on the table. “Haven’t you noticed, Castiel? Your choices are lauded, held up as grand examples of what one does for love, and mine?” He lets out a mirthless laugh that comes out closer to a sob. “Mine end with me on the business end of an angel blade, dying for a world where I’m not even missed, not by Dean or anyone else.”

No sooner does he say the words than Crowley feels like he can’t breathe. Which is stupid, because he doesn’t need to breathe, hasn’t for centuries, but the feeling’s there all the same. The place his heart would be if he still had one aches; it’s as though a well-healed scar in his chest has been sliced wide open and now Crowley’s choking on all the blood. He blinks back the bitter tears he can feel prickling at his eyes, staring fixedly down at the tabletop and wishing it would swallow him whole.

Eventually, he manages to get himself under control, and by the time the choking feeling subsides, Crowley is more exhausted than angry. Maybe Dean should have left him in the Empty after all, he thinks tiredly; it would have saved a good deal of heartache.

Through it all, Castiel remains silent; when Crowley finally looks up at him, he’s surprised to be met with something strangely akin to pity. Ordinarily, it would be infuriating, but right now, Crowley just can’t find the energy to give a damn; he slumps forward over the table and sighs. “What is it you want, Castiel?” he asks listlessly. “You came here to say something, so by all means, say it. There’s nothing you can take from me that I haven’t already lost.”

For a moment, Castiel lingers on the threshold; then he steps into the dark kitchen and sits across from Crowley at the table. Crowley waits, expecting to be told off...but when Castiel speaks, his tone is surprisingly, solemnly gentle.

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, “for the interest you’ve taken in Jack. What he’s been going through lately...facing Chuck, rebuilding Heaven...it’s been a great deal of change very suddenly. He’s trying so hard, and Sam, Dean, and I are supporting him as best we can, as is Amara, but it's still an incredible burden for a child to bear.” Castiel smiles sadly. “Especially when it’s so easy for others to forget that he’s a child.”

As he listens to Castiel speak, Crowley thinks back to that day in the Empty, at the cosmically powerful golden-eyed being who shielded him, shielded all of them, from the surrounding darkness. Jack is powerful in ways Crowley can only begin to imagine...but he’s also more than that. He's the boy who knocked timidly on Crowley's door and asked to learn chess, the boy who sits on the edge of Crowley’s bed and talks to him and smiles in delight when Miracle chases his tail. He’s curious and well-mannered and kind and—

And God, Crowley realizes with a start; bloody hell, when had he grown so fond of God?

“But, as I was saying,” Castiel says, snapping Crowley out of his thoughts, “the time you’ve been spending with him, treating him like he’s anyone else, giving him space to just be himself...it’s been good for him.” A pause, then: “You’ve been good for him. And while you and I have had our differences—”

Crowley can’t help it; he snorts. “That’s putting it mildly,” he says, and Castiel actually cracks a smile before continuing:

“—and while you and I have had our differences, Jack’s happiness takes precedence over all of them. He’s my son, and you matter to him.” He looks at Crowley intently, then adds, in a tone of absolute certainty, “And he would miss you if you were gone.”

The weight of Castiel’s words nearly knocks Crowley to the floor. He’s never mattered to anyone before, and now...now he matters to God. Crowley swallows; he doesn’t know what to say.

Castiel seems to understand, though. They sit in silence, and it’s not exactly amicable, but it’s not strained, either. Like for the first time since Castiel entered the kitchen, there’s enough space in the room for both of them.

Eventually, Crowley clears his throat. “There’s still some water left in the kettle,” he says, “if you’d like a cup of tea.” Then, because he doesn’t want to appear too agreeable, he gestures despairingly down at his cup and adds, “although what passes for Earl Grey according to Winchester tastes is, unsurprisingly, questionable at best.”

And Castiel, to Crowley’s surprise, smirks. “Leave that to me,” he says, rising and heading over to the cupboard. “I know where Sam hides the stash Rowena gave him for Christmas.”

#crowley #spn crowley #fergus macleod #crowley macleod #jack kline #spn #supernatural #spn fic #spn fix-it fic #spn spoilers #a new kind of life #my writing #this was supposed to go up tomorrow but i finished editing early and figured what the heck #one less thing to worry about tomorrow :)

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currentfandomkick · 3 years

Text

Marinette did not sign up for this part 10: Mari plots plotting

So long time no post. I live. Ish. Also finally figured out readmore on mobile, so yay. Will take forever to edit posts now though. Explanation at the bottom First part here previous part here. Ao3 here

Marinette wanted to go on record that Mandeliev did not, in fact, give her an extra day or so to study for the test. Why? Instead, she was told she may do a paper on the application of physics in gymnastics and principles of evasion in urban areas and how to combine the two to maximize one’s ability to run away from akumas and other dangers.

Or as Nino put it: “I am tormenting you into running better, the eight page essay.”

Alya dubbed it the “Run Better Paper.”

Aurore said it should include more formulas when Marinette showed her the draft. (as Adrien would complain about lack of theories and how she should have used this advanced formula she’d never heard of instead and then Marinette would have to forcibly stop him from taking over her paper. Again.)

Kim had taken to keeping her in his hoodie, escorting her to the bakery and didn’t leave her alone until Adrien said it was his “Marinette Anxiety Watch” shift.

Which she would like to go on record, is just plain mean to say. She has Liar 100% under control when world ending things and metaphorical bomb drops aren’t happening to her constantly.

—-

Bruce tried to contact Diana and Arthur again. Hal was off world, and therefore useless.

Why?

As his missing son hadn’t contacted them yet. Was still in the Miraculous team’s custody. And he saw the footage of Robin—Damian—being hunted by a lving shadow, an element casting swordswoman, and a strategist that seemed to know exactly what to do to keep Robin cornered in battle. The living shadows—Chat Noir—tried to kill his son with Cataclysm.

That was when they were in public, and had Hal watching over them.

He didn’t want to think about what the kids might do unsupervised to someone that tried to kill Ladybug, openly stalked her civilian self, and apparently tried stalk her again, in broad daylight. And possibly may have revealed her secret identity…

From the comments, it seemed that the Parisians hadn’t connected his sons aliases to the pair, writing it off as “Copy-cat Vigilantes” thankfully. And none of them were revealing more than “so the Fashion Disaster tried to go after Chat and Ryuko’s civvie… Not A Smart CopyBird” was the most he was able to get.

His children, on the other hand…

——

“I Fucking KNEW IT!” Tim yelled. “I knew it was her!”

“But,” Jason smirked. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Soup girl, baby bat!” Cass said gleefully.

“Wait, we both talked to her—and you didn’t say you thought it was her either Cass!”

“So what I’m hearing, if my ears don’t deceive me,” Jason continued. “Is that you all lost too.”

“What—“

“Wait a minute!”

“No way—”

Cass shrugged. She was the least invested in winning. She got to meet soup girl, who is very nice and her parents are safe for Baby Bat.

“We don’t have proof,” Dick pointed out. “Didn’t you say something about her being a mouse?”

“I—”

“Well—”

“Yes.” Cass cut through Tim and Stephanie’s waffling. “She is.”

Dick rubbed his forehead. “How many secrets can one kid have?”

“Five?” Jason said without much thought. “Limit is definitely five.”

—-

“Let me get this straight,” Miss Sting began, watching Ladybug very, very carefully. Rena and Carapace were busy that night and couldn’t act as the team’s Common Sense Filter in person. and texts only went so far.

So the job fell to Aurore. To talk (probably Marinette) Ladybug out of a Very, Stupendously, Inconceivably Bad Idea.

“You want to trust Robin—the kid who tried to kill you—to contact his mother—an assassin—to talk strategy about how to take down Hawkmoth’s civilian life’s business, not kill him, and trust that they won’t kill you?”

“…I’m bringing Chat with me.”

“Ladybug.”

“What, do you want me to use a Lucky Charm to prove this is our best bet?”

“You know what?” Miss Sting threw her hands up. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine.” Ladybug threw her yoyo skyward. “Lucky Charm!”

A red, spotted ball with an 8 on it came down.

“… you have got to be kidding me.”

Ladybug shrugged. “Uh, Magic Eightball, is it okay to trust Robin with this?”

One shake later and the floating die window read “Without a Doubt.”

“Give me that.” Miss Sting scowled, shaking as she asked. “Should she bring someone besides Chat and Robin—like someone from our team or Wonder Woman or Aquaman?”

The ball answered “Outlook not so good.”

Miss Sting glared at the magic eight ball. “I can’t believe this!”

Ladybug shrugged. “Lucky Charms are Lucky Charms—and I gotta go.”

Miss Sting checked her beeping spinning top. Someone was just akumatized.

“Re-charge first!” Miss Sting yelled before swinging ahead.

—-

“Oh, hey, when’s Demon Spawn going to contact us?” Jason asked as other bats calmed down.

“He’s not answering his communicator.” Bruce growled. “Hal took it earlier.”

The bats paused at that.

“Well then. Trackers?”

“Disabled—what? We didn’t need anyone crashing the apology and he ran off before I could stop him,” Dick defended. He is not Damian’s keeper. Just his Batman (as yes Bruce, he is Damian’s Batman and Damian is his Robin. Current masks not-withstanding).

“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Stephanie asked as the room grew uneasy.

No one answered that.

“How’s this,” Tim began. “Me, Steph and Cass agreed on who Hawkmoth probably is, each of us has a different set of evidence for it—and I’m counting breaking into his evil Liar and the cameras catching him mid-act a few minutes ago as absolute proof.”

“I’m sorry, you did what!” Stephanie leaned over Tim’s shoulder to see. “Oh shit. Isn’t that guy—”

“One of her friends? According to their private Instagram accounts, more like partner in crime and possible Chat Noir. I mean, he’s the one that calls her his “everyday Ladybug” and voices Chat Noir in everything." Tim answered idly. “My money’s on him not knowing at all.”

Bruce twitched. Then began to add ‘stalking social media feeds’ to his to-do list tonight.

“So,” Tim stepped forward. “I suggest we send this to the Wonder Woman and ask for Robin’s comm to be returned, and failing that, I bugged the video so anything they play it on, we get access to its IP and can find where they are.”

“Have Oracle go over the bug, just in case,” Bruce told them. “In the mean time, the rest of you suit up for the night. Gotham needs its vigilantes.”

—-

Marinette wanted to go on the record that her plan (to keep the bats away) was going well. Deciding what to do with Mu—R—Damian. Damian. Damian and his offer, was a challenge.

For obvious reasons, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman and Aquaman were against her asking a bunch of assassins for their help. Chat has more than a few reservations. Carapace, Rena and Miss Sting gave her looks for that plan.

But.

But it would work. She needs more information on how to make the plan burning in the back of her mind work. It’s a lot of chaos (and she may thrive in chaotic battles but this wasn’t her usual battlefield, and her team didn’t know who they were going up against for once). And Marinette? She needs to know its not just her doing this when its so out of her depths.

So despite literally everyone and their disagreements she had Chat on her right side with Damian on her left, meeting up with his Crazy, Semi-Immortal mother. And possibly his Immortal, former Black Cat candidate, grandfather.

Why?

As Marinette isn’t trusting the likely cult that makes up the Gotham Ghost Gang (Batfam if you like them) when she can get real advice and vague directions to immortal and allied (loyal and terrifying) assassins.

And yes, she wasn’t sure if Liar was wrong or right when they said it was a bad idea too.

But fuckit she’s already got Kaalki at her shoulder, looking a bit bored at the deserted rooftop that Kaalki chose for their meeting.

“داميان*,” the woman smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mother,” Robin greeted. “This is Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug wished to speak to you about potential strategies to take down an enemy outside of battle without violence,” Damian stressed.

“I am well-aware of the Kwami and their Chosen, اِبْن.**” The woman spoke calmly. “The League of Assassins formed to act as the Black Cat to restore the world to balance and un-burden the Order with its maintenance.” The woman offer Ladybug her hand. “I am Talia al Ghul, and I am at your service, with or without violence Ladybug.”

Marinette took her hand. “Thank you Talia. Our target being directly exposed like I planned would have…” Ladybug trailed off, thinking over the ramifications not only to Adrien, but to the whole of Gabriel’s brand, workers and all that worked with them. “Some intense ramifications I’d rather avoid.”

Talia nodded her head, waiting for more information.

“I believe its possible to topple them without affecting their employees by uncoupling them from their business, but doing so is, well, stocks and economics isn’t my strongest point.” Ladybug admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I would suggest,” Talia began, “to create a bit of chaos in the stock market. Perhaps a rumor here and there, let investors pull out and grab the abandoned stocks quickly. Consolidate them under one owner and become the company’s owner.”

Marinette twitched a bit at that. “That… sounds complicated.”

“Oh, but it isn’t. My son knows just how to that, or did you forget our lessons?” Talia asked coolly.

Damian twitched at Marinette’s side. “I did not.”

“You know,” Chat chimed in. “I do know a few things about those things. If its general chaos, well…” Chat’s face twisted in a way Marinette forgot he could do after that Chat Blanc episode.

“… I will take that into consideration.”

“Anything else?” Talia asked, watching Ladybug and her son. Specifically, how her son seemed glued to the girl’s side. “I am certain my son is able to take out your target, if all else fails.”

Damian scowled at Marinette’s side.

“However, I do believe that whatever is happening, whatever has you active, might require a more… experience hand.”

Damian brushed against her side. Code for ‘Possible Danger.’

“Thank you for the offer,” Chat moved in front of Marinette. “But mi’lady and the Guardians have that much handled.”

Talia’s eyes shifted from Chat to Ladybug, staying on her. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I merely needed more information on how to execute this type of plan, that’s all!” Ladybug almost, almost slipped into Marinette while Liar, while silenced for the moment, prodded the back of her mind. “I want to minimize collateral damage as much as I can, to everyone. The kwami already said they get to chose the target’s punishment.”

“Ah, I see.” Talia relaxed then. “You are following the kwami’s wishes. I will respect their wishes as well, Chosen.”

Marinette categorized this interaction as one of the “not too horrible, but will avoid a repeat” once they left.

—

*Damian in arabic

**son

so we have Talia now as a Player, sort of. she plays by her word pretty well so hopefully its a cameo more than anything else.

any ideas on how JL will handle the video, and if Miraculous Team should see it and freak out or only LB and keep on the dl while JL assissts in her Chaos Plot?

End of update. Will have to repost from ao3 on my phone now as desktop tumblr is being exceptionally rude. Tags always open, just takes me a bit to do—sorry to vixen for vanishing from tags

TAGS: @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang @dreamykitty25 @emu-lumberjack @vixen-uchiha

#maribat #marinette did not sign up for this #part 10 #updated at last #my writing #long post #my writings #bio!dad bruce

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bunnimew · 3 years

Text

Starstruck 2: Lost at Sea

Fandom: Rise of the Guardians Relationship: Jack Frost/Pitch Black Also featuring: Jamie Bennett Tags: Mermaid AU, Modern Mer AU istg, jamie is a good bro, Pitch is The Most Dramatic, There is angst here, there is also fluff, Action Plot! Rating: T Words: 3601 Summary: Sequel to Starstruck Pitch is missing. Jack has to find him. Jamie has to follow Jack, just to make sure he doesn't get eaten by sharks or something.

For RotG Mermay 2021 prompt Mother of Pearl On AO3 Here.

Jack was beside himself with worry.

No one had seen Pitch since yesterday morning. Since Jack said goodbye to him before heading off to work.

Pitch never made it to the theater. No one had seen him at rehearsal the entire day. Jack only found out when he arrived home to an empty house and his agent knocking on the door to ask if Pitch was feeling alright.

Pitch was gone.

And Jack couldn't rest until he found him.

He went straight to Jamie. No one understood how much Jack needed Pitch more than Jamie. Jack talked about Pitch all the time, confided everything to his best friend, which meant Jamie had unique insight into just how broken Jack would be if Pitch never came back. Worse, if Jack didn't even try to find him and it turned out he could have.

Jack didn't know exactly how Jamie was going to help, but he maybe should have predicted that Jamie would grab his pick-shovel and demand to come along.

They were already on their way back to Jack and Pitch's house, their plan set to trace Pitch's path to the theater and start their search there, When Jack decided to try one more time...

"You don't have to come with me, you know."

"You can't stop me, you know."

"I know!" Jack said. His voice was a little high, a little defensive, and very tense. It wasn't Jamie's fault, but Jamie got to hear it anyway. "I'm just making sure. Pitch isn't your fiancé. You're my friend, but… I don't even know what I'm doing, so. I'm just making sure you know you don't have to do this."

Jamie pressed a hand to Jack's shoulder as they swam along, their pale and true blue tails oscillating in an oddly perfect tandem. There was strength in that hold that Jack was sorely missing right now. "And I'm making sure you don't do something stupid, or that at least you don't do it alone."

Jack almost stopped dead in the water, but Jamie’s firm hand kept him moving forward. “It might be better if I did it alone.”

Jamie snorted, the brat. He didn’t even look at Jack when he replied. “Yeah, no. No way. Even if I’m just a witness to what happens to your remains, it’s better if I’m there.”

Jack blinked, taken aback. So much for optimism and solidarity. “You’re just gonna watch me die?”

Jamie shrugged. “Depends on how it happens. I’ll take on a shark for you. I won’t take on twenty sharks for you.” Jamie paused. “Probably.”

It was a bad joke, but it brought the smile back to Jack’s face. He put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder in kind and made his peace with the fact that Jamie was going to waste however much time he wanted on having Jack’s back while Jack went out of his mind searching for Pitch.

And honestly, Jack was thankful.

“I’m going to stop in and change,” Jack said when they reached his door. “I should probably be wearing real clothes when I meet my doom.” That was going to be their running joke now, Jack decided. The thing that kept the tone from getting too heavy to handle. The thing that kept Jack focused on finding Pitch and not focused on the fact that he was lost. “Do you want a jacket or something?”

Jamie started to shake his head, then rethought it. “Actually yeah. Another layer wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He swam over to hold the door when Jack went through. “Got anything fashionable? Something that will make me look badass for our rescue adventure?”

Jack almost laughed. Jamie was an amazing friend. “I’m wearing the badass jacket. You can wear the sexy one.”

“You mean they’re not the same jacket?”

Jamie was right to grab his pick-shovel. It was a tool as much as a weapon, and Jack did also have one, but the only time they needed both was for prying huge chunks of rock out of the ground. The likelihood that Pitch was pinned under something large enough it would take both of them to free him…

Was not zero.

Jack grabbed his pick-shovel.

He also grabbed a bag to put snacks in and the knife North had given him. It was so beautiful and fancy that Jack had never used it before. But it was a knife meant for work, and Jack didn’t know what he might need to cut. So he was bringing it along just in case.

And, also just in case, Jack left his lovely seastar in its feeding tank for safety.

Jamie noticed all of it. “How long do you think we’ll be gone?”

Jack shook his head on his way out the door. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll be able to come back in between. Maybe we’ll see something and… not be able to come back. I don’t know. But I’m bringing food enough for at least one night.”

“Seems smart,” Jamie agreed. His tone wasn’t in total agreement with his words. Jamie hesitated for the first time since hearing the news, on the idea that they would be at this for long enough that food would be a concern.

“You don’t—”

“Shut up and lead the way,” Jamie interrupted.

Well.

Okay.

Jack turned toward the theater and flicked his tail hard. Jamie would keep up. They had no time to waste.

-o-

“This is the longest I’ve ever swam in one day, I swear.”

Jack agreed. They were following a current that ran… somewhat close to Pitch’s path to the theater. It would have been kind of ridiculous for Pitch to have gotten caught up in it, but with his huge fins and unwieldy tail and, let’s be honest, ridiculous manner, it seemed the most likely thing to have happened.

That, and Jack didn’t have the authority to investigate other mers or search their homes, so it’s not like he could search anything but the natural surrounding area for Pitch.

Jack sighed. He felt defeated. “We can take another break soon. How far do you think he went?”

Jamie slowed and rotated upright in the water. “He could still be trapped in it, Jack. There’s no way to know.” But then he smiled and met Jack’s eyes with honest enthusiasm. “Glad you brought those snacks!”

Jamie was the best friend.

Jack laughed and pulled one out for him. “I really hope my idiot of a fiance is not still tumbling tail over fin in this current. That would be horribly embarrassing and also very inconvenient.”

Jamie nodded. “And very Pitch.”

Jack sighed again, this time put upon. It was true.

Hopefully one day this whole fiasco would be a great story to tell over the dinner table to Pitch’s latest celebrity friends and not the end of his world as he knew it. The cold hand of dread began its now very familiar clutch around Jack’s heart and he struggled to swallow down the rising anxiety and keep his tail moving.

Until Jamie wrapped his arm around Jack’s shoulders, again, and shook him just a little bit. “Don’t worry until we have reason to worry, Jack,” he said. “Let’s find him and figure it out from there.”

Jack agreed, because what else was he supposed to do? Except the nagging thought stuck with him that the hours Pitch had been missing already and the hours Jack and Jamie had spent looking for him were amounting to something to worry about.

So of course when they noticed the sudden plethora of fishing nets, Jack’s worry set sail for the stars and skyrocketed.

“Shark-eye on a woodlouse,” Jack moaned with his face buried in both hands. “They ate him!”

Jamie rolled his eyes and shook Jack by his elbow. “Don’t be dramatic. Pitch has been rubbing off on you.”

Jack shook his head, but kept on. “You know how these things are. Anything and everything gets caught in them and all of it dies. It doesn’t really matter if they ate him, although I’m really hoping they didn’t eat him. If he got caught in one of these nets, he’s gone.”

Jamie didn’t reply. He swam forward with a steady beat of his tail, and that told Jack everything. Jamie was an optimist, but he didn’t want to lie.

These nets meant real danger.

Made more and more evident as they continued to follow the current and found thousands of fish caught up in them. Jack and Jamie had to swim out of the way of sweeping nets more than once and each time, Jack thought of their agility and of Pitch’s huge, billowing tail. This was what got him, Jack was more and more sure. It had to be.

Jack closed his eyes as they swam on, letting Jamie guide their way. If Pitch did get swept up onto a fishing boat, how would Jack ever know for sure? He would just be gone, and Jamie wouldn’t let him mourn if there was still hope left because that’s the kind of person Jamie was. But Jack couldn’t just hope forever and live in that house without Pitch and pretend it would all be fixed when Pitch magically showed up some day.

Jack would hope, though. Because how could he give up when he loved Pitch so much? The whole idea made Jack fear his own future, so he just… swam. And let Jamie guide them. He needed to be in his own head for a little while.

“Spawn of a…” Jamie trailed off in a faraway, disbelieving tone, and Jack opened his eyes because that was either good or very, very bad. “Is that him?”

In an instant, Jack was scanning the seas around them. Fuck, but all he saw was nets. “Where?”

“There!” Jamie pointed, but he also started swimming. Jack hurried to keep up, and then—

He saw what Jamie saw. A small, long, black and gray thing tangled in an abandoned net caught in the current’s flow. It was anchored from below, but the line was too long and Jack’s concern was too short to give it more than the glance it took to verify Pitch wasn’t about to be swept away in the current again, this time without any hope of swimming his way out of it.

The figure wasn’t struggling against the nets at all and Jack swam faster. His huge fins, twisted and folded in the spun plastic, gave him away before anything else. It was Pitch. It was absolutely Pitch.

Jack screamed his name over and over as he swam nearer, waiting, hoping, praying for Pitch to look up at the sound. He looked so pathetic and sad, immobilized and swaying helplessly in the wake of the current. He could have been dead already, except that he finally stirred from all the noise Jack was making and looked up. When their eyes met, when Jack could see for himself that Pitch’s gaze was clear and focused and that he was just stuck, the ridiculous man, relief flooded through every part of Jack’s being so suddenly and so completely that he almost lost the rhythm of his stroke and stumbled in the water.

Pitch was alive, and, other than his current circumstances, he was fine.

Jack realized Pitch was neither trapped under nor between anything heavy and so his pick-shovel would do nothing but fill his hands. He tossed it behind him for Jamie to catch and continued on unhindered.

“Jack!” Pitch shouted to him, and the sound made Jack’s heart sing. The heavy pull of the current sent it sinking again, but Jack was on a mission and skillfully rode the tide right into his chest, where he clung with all of the accumulated desperation of the last several hours and steadfastly refused to let go.

Jack pulled the fancy knife from his hip and prayed the inset mother of pearl handle survived what he was about to do to it. He pulled the netting as far from Pitch’s skin as he could, then pressed the knife into the synthetic fibers and began to saw away at it with everything he was worth.

Pitch tried to help. His wiggling wasn’t very effective, but it did get him a little further from Jack’s blade, and that was something. “How did you find me?”

Jack smiled at him. It wasn’t really anything to smile about, but Jack was just so glad that he could smile at Pitch, so he did. “Followed your tracks. Made some good guesses. Jamie helped a lot.”

Pitch looked behind Jack at where Jamie must have been hovering with the two pick-shovels out of the current’s reach. “I thought he couldn’t stand me.”

“He can’t stand me when I talk about you. That’s different.”

“Oh right,” Pitch said absently. It was obvious he wasn’t really taking anything in. His eyes were glued to Jack’s hands slowly tearing away at the nets now, and he was biting anxiously at his lip.

“Don’t worry,” Jack soothed. His voice was tense, but Jack couldn’t help that. His hands couldn’t stop moving until Pitch was free, and the netting was stronger than it looked. “I’ll get you out of this, Tigershark. I promise.”

Pitch met his eyes again, and there was so much heat there. So much love and trust that Jack nearly forgot what his hands were doing. “I know.”

It felt like forever before the first rope gave way, then two forevers for the second. Jack’s arms were burning and Pitch’s tail wasn’t even free, yet. The pace was excruciating, and after hours of constant swimming, Jack was tired.

The thought of Pitch’s safety was all he needed to keep on.

Pitch, on his part, tried to help with every limb he could wiggle out of the way. The net had tangled around him at least three times, but Jack hoped once the tail was free, the rest would come easy. When the bottom fin finally broke through, Jack wondered if he imagined the way Pitch’s soft tail brushed against him, as if it were on purpose.

But then, as soon as Pitch’s first arm escaped the plastic cage, he pressed his fingers to Jack’s cheek, and Jack knew he hadn’t imagined anything at all.

Before the last snarl was cut, Jack made sure both of them had a firm grip on the net. It would absolutely suck to go through all of that just to lose Pitch to the current again. And then they had another problem.

Jack took hold of Pitch’s arm. “You trust me, right?” he asked.

Pitch looked very much like he did not trust Jack right now. “What do you mean? What are you doing?”

Jack sighed. Why did he have to ask questions? “I’m going to get you out of the current so we don’t start all of this over again. Do you trust me?”

Pitch’s eyes widened. He looked thoroughly unconvinced. “What about you?”

“I’m a stronger swimmer,” Jack said. Then he tightened his grip on Pitch’s arm and swung him around in the water. Pitch flailed hilariously, but let him do it and that was all Jack asked for. When he let go, the force and the pull of the current tore Jack away and spun him viscously, but the net kept him anchored just as it had done to Pitch before.

When he finally got another glimpse of Pitch, it was to see Jamie holding him back by the shoulders. The idiot had honestly turned around and tried to get back to him.

Thank the universe for Jamie.

Jack held the knife between his teeth and gripped the net with both hands. All he had to do was make it far enough out that the pull wasn’t stronger than him. That… should be easy, right?

Right.

Jack took a hard breath through his nose, then went for it. He swung on the net as far as physics would allow, then pushed hard with his tail and both arms to escape the drag of water trying to keep him in. He could feel the water he pushed against with his hands, but he could also feel the water slipping backwards over his shoulders and sides as the current slowly won.

Jack pushed harder, swam faster, felt himself beginning to thrash as he realized it wasn’t working. The current was going to take him and throw him out who knows where else? He had some food, but Jamie and Pitch didn’t and what if the current never let him go at all?

Then a hand grabbed his and Jack looked up to see Jamie, strained and panicked, reaching out for him into the turbulent water. Jack’s expression probably looked much the same, but some of the anxiety smoothed out when the two of them began to move, this time steadily away from the current that wanted to claim him.

Jack didn’t understand, but he didn’t care. He clung to Jamie’s wrists and didn’t look away until finally the pull began to loosen its grip and Jack could breathe again. Then he noticed the massive black tail swishing back and forth in the water behind Jamie. Pitch?

Jack blinked, startled, and accepted it without fuss when Jamie suddenly shot backward and Jack was flung bodily into a circle of four arms and two tails that seemed ready to crush him before they would let go.

It was Pitch. Pitch had pulled them out. Pitch had been tugging on Jamie’s tail and Jack was really going to have to treat Jamie to something nice because that probably hurt like hell but first, Jack was going to have to kiss Pitch senseless for saving him. Nevermind that Jack had saved Pitch first. Pitch could kiss Jack senseless, too. It was only fair.

Jack wormed one arm around each of them and held on. They were safe. They were finally safe, all three of them, and now they just had to get home. Jack’s eyes were burning and when he looked up, Jamie and Pitch’s were red-rimmed, too.

Yeah, okay. That was scary. Jack could admit that whole thing had been scary. He would do it again in a heartbeat, but… He was glad he wouldn’t have to.

Jamie finally loosened his hold and gave Jack some water. Jack, who immediately turned and smothered himself in Pitch’s chest because it had been more than twenty-four hours since Jack last laid eyes on him and the idiot had nearly gotten himself killed by accidentally getting swept up in a current that he had no business being that close to in the first place.

Pitch pressed his face into Jack’s hair and wrapped around him the way Jack liked, the way that made Jack feel safe. It was stupid, because obviously Pitch was a danger magnet, but the man had also proven himself to be strong and capable not two minutes ago, so Jack would take it.

“I love you so much,” Jack whispered into the water. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t, Jewelfish.” Pitch said against the shell of Jack’s ear. “Never again.”

Jack pressed his face up against Pitch’s throat. “I’m serious, Pitch. I was so worried. I thought I lost you. I thought I was going to have to—”

Pitch pressed two fingers against Jack’s lips to quiet him, then leaned just far enough away to meet his eyes. “I swear, Jack. I will be more careful. I will never do this again.”

Jack stared deep into Pitch’s gaze, judging for himself whether Pitch really meant that or not. Pitch held Jack’s stare, steady and calm. Calm, after all of that. How? But he was. Calm and sure, and Jack slowly started to believe him.

With a nip at Pitch’s fingers, Jack gave in. “Alright, Cuddlefish. Take me home.”

Pitch smiled and swam pointedly away from the current that started all of this. “Anything you wish, Nibblefish. Thank you for coming to find me.”

Suddenly Jamie was on Jack’s other side again, and his solid warmth was very much appreciated. “There was no way we wouldn’t. Seriously,” Jamie said, wide eyes fixed on Pitch. “I don’t think you really know. There was no other option. Jack was coming to find you. I only came to make sure Jack didn’t die in the process and, as it turns out, good thing I did!”

Pitch’s smile, adoring when it was aimed at Jack, shifted into a sort of baffled amusement. Jamie had that effect on people. “Thank you. Jack is very lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. He wrapped his arm around Jamie and squeezed. “I know.”

Jamie grinned and hugged him back. “Good thing. Because I am not looking forward to the hours it’s going to take to get back and watching you two be disgustingly sweet and all over each other the whole way.”

Jack bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“I’m going to see you home safe,” Jamie continued, “but as soon as we are, I am clearing out, because I know exactly what you two are going to get up to and I want no part in that.”

Pitch’s face was equal parts embarrassed and scandalized, and Jack couldn’t keep the laughter inside anymore.

Jack was incredibly lucky. He had an adoring fiancé who would give him anything, an amazing best friend who would do, for him, anything, and a future that didn’t scare him anymore.

Also, Jamie was one hundred percent right.

Jack couldn’t wait to get home.

#TheBunni #rotg #rise of the guardians #blackice #blackicerotg #blackice rotg #jack frost #rotg fanart #mermay #merman #mother of pearl #mermaid au #starstruck

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sapphicwhump · 3 years

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Deception of Luna

Fandoms: Destiny, Destiny 2 Tropes: F/M, trauma recovery, heavy angst, light fluff, creepy whumper, cosmic horror elements, whumpee/caretaker intimacy TWs: flashback, explicit noncon, implied death of loved ones, implied misogyny

Read on AO3

Lich-5 considers herself to be quite lucky. At least with her assignments on Luna; not so much with her loot. She speeds across the lunar surface on her Sparrow towards Archer’s Line, having just received a bounty to clear out the Fallen there. There are three of the usual crimson phantoms en route this time; each one cowers and screams in terror as her Sparrow plows by. To her, these nightmares are just nameless red silhouettes that occasionally make creepy noises; none of them are the slightest bit recognizable. The larger ones, the ones that appear as long-dead enemies rather than Guardians, have names she can recognize from her historical studies, but nothing more than that. Despite her own experience, Lich knows that most of her fellows don’t see them that way.

The Pyramid of Luna is a nasty piece of work, to say the least. She would call it sadistic, but it would be improper of her to anthropomorphize such an alien being. The nightmares it spawns are drawn directly from the Guardians’ most painful losses; vanquished nemeses, outlived mentors, lost loves, and a myriad of others now walk again on Luna. In every case, their passing had left wounds on the people they left behind, and now the Pyramid has made those wounds fresh again.

The worst part, Lich thinks, is that doing so offers it no tactical advantage. The Pyramid doesn’t need to crush Guardians’ morale; it could crush them all very literally if it so chose. This thing’s kind had caused the Great Collapse of humanity’s golden age; surely the Last City of today would be no trouble for it to exterminate. The only thing keeping them all alive is this Pyramid’s continued desire to bide its time. And in that time, it’s chosen to reopen their old wounds because it’s fun.

The reason Lich-5 considers herself lucky is because she doesn’t have many wounds that can be reopened. She'd been resurrected just after the Red War, into a world struggling to recuperate, to make some amount of sense out of the tremendous loss. Her roommate Windy isn’t a particularly old Guardian by any means, only a few years her senior, but that still puts his resurrection date solidly before the War. She doesn’t pry him about it, but she’s aware that the majority of people he knew had been permanently Returned To Light by the forces of Dominus Ghaul. Windy avoids assignments on Luna like the plague, as do many of her elder acquaintances. She’s met Guardians who were resurrected in the Dark Age, now hundreds of years old, who have pushed on through every defeat humanity has ever faced since the Collapse. Lich herself recently turned three.

Will she live to be hundreds of years old? If she does, how much will she lose in that time?

She’s coming up on Archer’s Line now. There’s already some Guardian activity here; in the distance, she can pick out the dull gray bulk of a male Titan’s armor against the background of lunar dust. Ignoring his presence, she drives into the old K1 Logistics facility and gets to work.

Clearing the facility takes under ten minutes. She emerges from the front entrance with her armored Warlock’s robe dotted with scuffs and splattered with Fallen Ether. Her bounty objectives aren’t quite complete yet; there are still a few Fallen skittering around the Lunar surface that’ll have to be dealt with. She’d think that life-or-death combat would be too stressful to become boring, but when that death isn’t much more than a temporary (if painful) setback, the repetitiveness of it can get a bit dull.

Just gotta get it done, then I can relax. The rewards from these last few bounties should be just enough to afford that fancy new armor set she’s been working towards, and then she won’t have much to do until the next big crisis inevitably hits the Sol system. She’s already thinking of a few new science projects she could start work on during her extended down time; monotonous work like this does little to satiate her burning curiosity.

The Titan she saw earlier seems to be approaching the K1 facility now. He’s welcome to loot the place if he wants; she only went in to get her bounties done. It’s nice to see another Guardian out here; the presence of an ally makes her feel slightly less alone in this gray hellscape, even if they don’t interact.

The boxy silhouette of his armor strikes her as oddly familiar. It’s possible that she’s seen him somewhere else before; there aren’t an unlimited number of Guardians in Sol, and Lich has met quite a lot of them.

Wait a minute—

Recognition shoots through her neural network like arc lightning. Instantly, her every piston is tense, all sensors on high alert. It’s him. Why does he have to be here?

She takes it back. Having another Guardian here isn’t nice at all, not when it’s him in particular . Lich quickly ducks back into the empty facility, taking cover from the imminent danger behind one of the large storage containers strewn about. She needs to be in a place where he isn’t in her line of sight.

Maybe she isn’t so lucky. Of course the phantoms wouldn’t reopen old wounds, only for another Guardian to do it instead. Taking stock of her emotional state, she abruptly realizes how much she’s shaking. She forcibly steels herself, struggling to regain her composure while cursing her own weakness. Simply seeing a Titan, even if it’s him, should not frighten her to the point where she’s struggling to even function.

Lich is ashamed to admit to herself how much sway he still holds over her mental state. His existence is a disgusting muck polluting the back of her mind; just being reminded of him feels like wading through a stagnant pit of human sewage, from which she can never truly escape because it’s in her head. Thinking about it more only makes it worse, causes her to sink deeper. She can forget him, at least temporarily, but then eventually something random always jogs her memory and she'll be back, trapped again in that pit of sewage.

She considers abandoning her objectives and transmatting back to her jumpship, still safely parked at the landing zone. But it’s this part of Luna that needs to be cleared of Fallen, and that fancy new armor set won’t be on sale forever, and she really shouldn’t be so pathetically weak to let this get to her. No, she’ll stay, to earn her extended down time if nothing else. She just needs to calm down and wait here until he—

“Oh hey, Lich. Long time no see.”

If Lich had a heart, it would have stopped beating at that exact second. His voice, just his fucking voice, almost throws her back there all by itself. He’s so insufferably casual with his greeting, like she’s just any other acquaintance to him.

“Hey. You mind leaving me alone?”

“Woah, relax. I’m just finishing up these bounties.” Condescension drips off of his words like spoiled milk.

“Yeah, well, please stay away from me while you do that.”

His tone sours, sounding almost disappointed. “Well you’re being awfully frigid.”

“Of course I fucking am!” Lich fumes, rage momentarily cutting through her fear. “What did you expect, that I’d be nice to you!?”

The Titan pauses. “Well… yeah, kinda. I at least didn’t expect to be jilted like this.”

For a brief moment, Lich sees red. Her trembling has elevated to a truly intolerable level, and she’s currently about five seconds away from drawing her Dawnblade on this man. She knows that getting violent with him would almost certainly end poorly for her, though. With great effort, she puts together a facade of something resembling calmness.

“Look… I think I’ve got a pretty good reason for not wanting to see you. Please leave, and never try to interact with me again. I know I’m never gonna get justice, so I just want to move past this and get back as close to normal as possible. You’re making it rather difficult to do that right now.”

“Justice?" He cocks his helmet to the side in what looks like disbelief. As if he has any right to act surprised by any of this. She can practically feel him rolling his eyes at her underneath his blank faceplate, and it makes her synthetic stomach turn. “Fine, fine. If you wanna be like that, it’s not my problem.”

He proceeds deeper into the K1 halls, finally giving Lich a reprieve from his vile presence. She turns to leave in the opposite direction, but stops short when she catches the Titan muttering a final insult under his breath.

“Fuckin’ melodramatic bitch.”

She whirls on him. “Fuck you, asshole!” she spits over her shoulder, still heading for the facility’s exit. “If I ever see you again, it’ll be too soon!”

The Titan is mercifully quiet. Lich is almost at the door; just a few more Fallen slain, and she’ll be able to go home and do her best to forget that she ever saw him again.

“No, fuck you.”

Lich barely registers the Titan’s words in her audio receptors, and she doesn’t notice the suppressor grenade roll between her legs until it’s too late.

————————————

Windy’s day has been restful, to say the least. He lays sprawled out on the couch of his and Lich’s shared apartment, his usual combat armor doffed in favor of boxers and a tank top, lackadaisically swiping through the datapad in his hand. On one tab is the sidearm section of Omolon’s digital storefront; on another is a gallery of images displaying a nude Awoken. He lifts his can of alcoholic liquid from the coffee table and pours the last of it down his throat, sighing in satisfaction. It’s kinda nice to stay home for once while Lich goes out to grind away at bounties.

Fuck, he needed a day like this. He’s been seeing less than his fair share of action recently, but continuously dodging Vanguard assignments on Luna has been anxiety-inducing enough on its own. After his first visit, he vowed to make every effort he possibly could to never return. The Vanguard had assigned him a strike against the Hive on Luna today, and so he had to call in one of his favors for a friend to take his place in the fireteam, hence his current position at home while Lich is out and about.

An Incoming Communication notification buzzes at the top of his screen, and he quickly closes the pornography tab before answering. It’s from Phylactery. That’s odd; Lich’s Ghost hardly ever lets themself be seen, and speaks even less. If Lich had a message for him, she’d give it herself.

“Hey, how’s it going?”

The Ghost doesn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “Lich needs immediate evac from K1 Logistics on Luna.”

Windy instantly bolts up from his slouched position. “Wait, what’s going on? Can she transmat out?”

Phylactery is doing their best to keep their tone clipped and curt as usual, but Windy still picks up on the desperate way they hurry over their words. “No, she’s currently catatonic. We’re stuck here until someone can provide an evac.”

“Catatonic?" Windy balks. “What the hell happened down there?”

The Ghost’s distress is evident. “I’m not quite sure. Lich saw something; I think we were attacked, but she still isn’t cognizant enough to give me the details. I felt something suppress our Light. I was knocked unconscious, and Lich… she’s not recovering. We need you here as soon as possible.”

Fear grips Windy’s gut. Suppressed Light means that an RTL is on the table. He’s got enough dead friends walking around on Luna without Lich joining that long list.

“It’ll take me awhile to get there; can you call any nearby Guardians for backup?”

Windy can detect a wince in Phylactery’s tone. “No, this… isn’t the kind of thing that a random stranger would be able to help with. Might make matters worse, even.” the Ghost quietly speculates to themself. “What she really needs right now is someone she trusts.”

Well that’s cryptic. He knows he’s not getting the full picture of events, and stumbling blindly into danger has always been more of Lich’s thing than his. He doesn’t exactly have time to press the Ghost further, though.

“Already on my way. Just gimme like twenty minutes to get there.”

“Right, thank you.” Phylactery seems relieved to no longer be discussing it.

Windy is already in motion as he hangs up the call. He drops the datapad on the cushion beside him, then vaults over the back of the couch in his usual manner. He doesn’t bother taking the time to change out of his boxers and tank top before exiting the apartment; he’ll don his armor in his jumpship. The residents of this housing block have seen far weirder things than his underwear, anyways.

Fuck. On Luna. Guess I won’t be able to avoid it after all. Dread constricts around his gut like a snake as he approaches the Tower’s hangar, a sensation that he knows won’t dissipate until he and Lich are safely back on Earth. For now, he tries to shove it down as best he can. His current priority is making sure that his roommate doesn’t get RTL’d; once she’s safe, he can go drown his worries at the nearest bar and put this all behind him. He distracts himself by planning out the route he’ll take there, what drinks he’ll order, who he might meet up with...

As he’s exiting the Earth’s atmosphere, Windy briefly speculates that maybe finding a therapist would be a better use of his time than just getting drunk again, before he blasts off at near-light speed for Luna.

————————————

Lich-5 awakens to the sensation of an immense weight on top of her, as if she’s trapped underneath a boulder. She’s laying stomach-down on the couch where she fell asleep, being pressed down into the cushions by the heavy object above her. She’s in an apartment typical of one of the Last City’s massive housing blocks, although not the one she shares with Windy. Night has long since fallen outside, casting the living room in darkness. What little illumination remains bathes everything in an odd vermillion.

The Titan’s apartment is small, but his couch provided an adequate place to crash for the night after a particularly wild bar crawl. Lich can’t get drunk, but flying her jumpship home while exhausted would be just as dangerous. When she proposed the idea of crashing at a nearby friend’s place, one particular Titan was eager to offer. He’s new to her group of drinking buddies, and so it struck Lich as unusual that he would so readily invite her over. Once at his apartment, she figured out his reason pretty quickly.

Tucked away in her backpack at the foot of the couch, Phylactery sleeps soundly, enjoying a well-earned rest after a long day’s grind. Lich is currently not being afforded that same rest. The weight on top of her shifts around erratically, fiddling with something, trying to get it open. She’s nearly driven to panic, but her fear keeps her frozen in place. Just pretend you’re still asleep, her mind unhelpfully provides. Play dead, and soon the predator will go away.

The predator does not go away. She feels a sudden spike of pain, and the irregular shifting of the weight quickly becomes paced and rhythmic.

Lich can’t pinpoint when or how her view shifts, but at some point she finds that she’s above herself—literally. She’s watching the scene unfold from a third-person perspective, her disembodied consciousness hanging a meter in the air over her incapacitated frame. She can’t compel herself to move a single piston or servo, her physical form refusing to comply with her immobilized will.

Long ago, in a time before she could remember, Lich had had nightmares in which she was pursued by an extreme danger, only to find her limbs paralyzed and unresponsive to her attempts to flee. This is a lot like that, only it’s not a nightmare; this is real life and the danger is directly on top of her. There is no chance to flee; she’s already been caught.

The Titan’s head, now free of its helmet, rests on the couch next to hers. Despite the warmth of his breath, a chill runs through Lich’s system. She can feel his wet lips graze against her artificial skull as he begins to speak.

“The Light does not hold its wielders to any standard of morality.” he whispers into the side of her head, where the ear would be if she were human. There’s a horrible wrongness in his tone, like multiple beings trying to speak through one mouth. “In the Dark Age, the Warlords inflicted terrible violence upon the innocent, just as he inflicted violence upon you.”

The motion gradually escalates in speed and magnitude, pressing Lich further down into the couch cushions with an oscillating rhythm. Her pain briefly increases as the pace picks up, but it quickly turns dull, and a sensation of warmth grows in its place as her own body turns against her. He’s speaking again, those wet lips and warm breath directly on her audio receptor. He doesn’t pause for air as he produces the words, regardless of his physical exertion.

“In Light, there is only pain.”

There’s a groan from above her, and the weight slumps, ceasing its rhythm. Lich silently breathes a sigh of relief, although she’s still far too overwhelmed with disgust to really be relieved by any of this. She knows on some level that it’s only been minutes, but her dilated sense of time has stretched the ordeal into what felt like hours.

The floorboards creak next to her, and the Titan exits the small living room, although Lich still remains effectively paralyzed. A heavy exhaustion has seeped into her chassis, now even worse than the one she was trying to cure by crashing here. Still unable to will herself to move, it isn’t long before unconsciousness claims her again.

————————————

Windy summons his Sparrow within the second he touches down on Luna. His stomach churns as he exits his jumpship, doing his best to keep his eyes on the ground and away from the lifeless red Guardians hanging motionless over the landing zone. The Pyramid must know this is a center of Guardian activity, and so the nightmares swarm here like some kind of macabre flock.

He passes three more of the crimson phantoms on his way to the dot Phylactery marked on his heads-up display. He gives each of them as wide of a berth as he reasonably can, trying to keep them in his periphery while still steering the vehicle on course. If he looks at one too closely, there's a decent chance he’ll recognize it. He fails to give the third one enough room, and winces under his helmet as it wails at him for help in a voice he’s pretty sure he can put a name to.

Phylactery’s coordinates lead him to the K1 facility at the far end of Archer’s Line. A short distance in, he finds his roommate’s distinctive hive-bone helmet lying discarded to one side. It’s not until he proceeds down a hallway and searches behind a storage container that he finds the Warlock it belongs to. She doesn’t appear to be in any immediate physical danger, although he wouldn’t think it purely by her posture; she’s curled up in a fetal position on the floor, trembling violently, the shutters over her optics squeezed as tight as they’ll go.

One of the red phantoms looms over her cowering form. This one is clearly a Titan, and Windy can’t restrain his relieved exhale when he fails to recognize it. It does not turn to acknowledge him as he enters, keeping its blank gaze fixed on the ball of a Warlock curled behind the box.

It takes Windy a moment to realize that Lich is crying. Her digital optics don’t feature tear ducts, but the anguish in her soft vocalizations is unmistakable. It’s a sound that he doesn’t hear often, but still far more than he’d like.

Windy steps straight through the phantom towards his friend, passing through it as if it’s not even there. The spectral Titan’s body offers no resistance and induces no sensation. The thing recoils in a mimicry of pain, then disperses into maroon wisps as if it were mist. The instant it vanishes completely, her optics fly open.

The first thing that Lich sees is Windy leaned over her, right where he had stood, offering her a hand.

"W-windy?" She accepts the hand graciously, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Phylactery told me you needed an evac.” The somber concern in his tone catches her by surprise, and she briefly feels a pang of guilt for causing him to worry this much.

Lich emits a single humorless laugh, barely holding in a sob behind it. “Yeah. You could say that.” She’ll have to thank her Ghost for their forethought later. She takes a moment to collect herself, brushing the lunar dust off her robes and trying in vain to suppress her shivering.

“You didn’t have to come for me.” she tells him frankly, refusing to meet his sympathetic gaze. “I know how much you hate this place.”

“Lich, it’s fine. There is nothing in all of Sol that could make me leave you behind.”

For a moment, Lich looks like she’s about to cry again, before she closes the distance between their bodies and embraces Windy in a tight hug. He tentatively returns the gesture, protectively wrapping his arms around her back, and her hold on his torso quickly turns into a death grip. She’s no longer crying, but he takes careful note of the way she still shivers and shakes in his embrace.

Lich buries her face in the crook of his neck, hiding away from the world in the rough fabric of his Hunter cloak. Her chemical receptors flood with the particles that cling to the garment; it smells like his shampoo and sweat and the dust of a hundred worlds, all composing into a unique odor that is very distinctly Windy. His smell is grounding, bringing her attention back to the here and now.

“So, did the nightmares get to you?” he asks, tracing his fingers over the top of her fiberglass cranium in the way he knows she likes. He immediately withdraws his hand when she unexpectedly flinches away from the gentle contact. “I thought you hadn’t lost anyone.”

Lich shakes her head gently against his cloak. “I, uh… I saw him again.”

Windy’s blood freezes. Then the phantom Titan was—

“Oh shit, Lich, I’m so sorry.” He suddenly feels very conscious of the way he’s holding her.

Windy can’t forget the morning that Lich had nearly collapsed into their apartment, utterly disheveled after a long night out, and he had to delicately explain to her that sex is not a required payment for a male friend lending you his couch to crash on. Working through that day had been a painful experience for them both, although Windy has no illusions about which of them had it worse. Despite his seniority as a Guardian, dealing with this particular type of violence was entirely outside of his expertise. To his knowledge, aside from him and Phylactery, she’s never told another soul of what happened that night.

“This fucking Pyramid.” he spits out venomously, staring out at the lunar expanse beyond the facility. That fucking Titan. Hate festers within his ribcage like rot. At the time, he’d had half a mind to bust down the Titan’s front door with his Golden Gun in hand, ready to vaporize both him and his Ghost. But Lich needed him more than that Titan needed a bullet, and so the obligation to support her had stayed his hand.

With the Pyramid, though, it’s so much worse. Even though he couldn’t act on his impulse against the Titan, at least there had been some degree of hope there. With how utterly infinitesimal he is compared to the Pyramid’s world-ending might, he doesn’t even get the luxury of a revenge fantasy.

"It was like—" Lich begins to speak, but stops short as her chassis is taken by a violent shiver. Windy can almost feel the intensity of the chill that runs through her. "Like being there all over again."

His attention snaps back to her, and all the hate goes cold. His rage is not what Lich needs right now. Staying angry is impossible when she’s still so visibly distressed. He mentally reminds himself that this is her pain, not his; she’s the one who gets to have the revenge fantasy, if she so chooses.

“Yeah. I... get what that’s like. It sucks, but the suck is ultimately temporary. You’ll get through this.”

The pair are silent for a moment as Lich’s mind swims. She really wishes she could take his words to heart, but the memory of him freshly burned into her mind is all she can focus on. She tries to clear her thoughts by concentrating on the steady rise and fall of Windy’s chest, while her own remains eternally still. She reminds herself of what’s real: he’s here, holding her in his arms, and soon they’ll be home safe. The danger has long since passed, and was never even here in the first place.

“I feel disgusting.” Lich voices the thought aloud, her gaze remaining firmly downcast. “I’ve felt disgusting since that night. I don’t know if it’s ever gonna go away.”

Windy winces, sucking in a quiet breath through his teeth. "That… I lack experience with. But, from the experience I do have, I can tell you that it’s not true." Now he’s the one to strengthen the embrace. Through the heavy weave of her robes, he soothingly runs a hand up and down her mechanical spine, and is relieved when she relaxes into the touch rather than flinching away. "You’re smart, and beautiful, and brave, and you can be really really annoying when you want to be, but I still care about you. You’re the furthest thing from disgusting that I can imagine. What he did doesn’t make you any lesser as a person; you’re still the same Lich I’ve always known.”

Lich tries to form a response, but words fail her, immediately getting caught in the knot that’s formed behind her speakers. She settles for simply holding Windy close, savoring the feeling of their arms wrapped around each other. Some part of her is still trapped in that sewage pit, but it’s further away now, distanced from her by the closeness to him. For the briefest moment, she believes with absolute certainty that everything he said is true, and almost manages to clamber her way out.

“Y’know, if Guardians really are amoral, you’re a pretty good counterexample.”

“Hm?” He turns his head towards hers with a raised brow.

“Ah, nevermind. Symmetrist ramblings.” Windy can’t help but notice another chill run through her.

It’s a long while before Lich feels stable enough on her own to leave his arms. When she finally begins to move away, he retracts his protective embrace, allowing her to separate from him without resistance.

"You ready to head home now? I'll ride with you to the landing zone and fly us back to Earth. We can pick up your jumpship later."

Lich releases an extended sigh, exhaling her residual tension into the thin lunar atmosphere. “Sure. Thanks for all this, by the way. I… needed to hear that.”

He gives her a warm, relieved smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Lich finally escapes from K1 Logistics with her hand firmly in Windy’s. While the Sparrow is intended to be a single-occupancy vehicle, that’s never stopped particularly affectionate Guardians from riding them two at a time. Lich and Windy share the single seat, with her clinging to his back, holding on with her arms wrapped around his midsection.

The ride back to the landing zone is short, but both Guardians savor it. The red phantoms don’t cause either of them much distress on their return trip. Holding each other close, the nightmares seem just a little bit fainter.

#my writing #whump #lady whump #female whumpee #tw noncon #lich-5 and windy

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voiddaysrp · 3 years

Photo

Name: Days

Gender: Female

Age: … Very old, she lost track long ago (she is however 18 physically like me ooc)

Species: Human-dragon hybrid Height: 6’2 in/ft | 187 cm

Other measurement things: Wingspan is about 12’3 in/ft or 374 cm (likely varies because i dont know what is actually “accurate”). Tail is about 6 feet long or 182 cm.

Personality: Quiet and contemplative, Days is not the most social person in the world- she's usually off doing her own thing unless someone else puts her to a task. These things of her own are often building- she’s not great at the creative aspect but she puts focus into practicality at the very least, expect her to have her nose in a book as she makes an exp farm that no one probably actually needs at that point in time. She is also one for experimentation, having a scientific mindset towards things- sometimes she may even go too far without realizing it, she rarely means bad by it but empathy is something that has left her mind long ago.

Due to her unique circumstances Days is not particularly in tune with her mob traits- she learned things in her time stuck in the End but there are some things that just… happen, for instance she often finds comfort in obsidian pillars, is drawn to end crystals, hates beds and often starts vibing around endermen in the overworld without really thinking. She tries not to think about how she has lost half her humanity, it’s not a pleasant thought.

Once upon a time she used to be a very adventurous sort of person- prone to going out on long trips and then taking five years to come back, down to earth but enthusiastic nonetheless (basically, my ooc personality). However… after her long fall in the void and then being trapped in the end even longer she has changed considerably, her emotions are incredibly dulled in many aspects which she sometimes tries to overcompensate for (you want melodramatic speeches? That’s how you get melodramatic speeches). She may often come off as rude, when usually she’s just trying to be honest.

Sometimes she does get the urge to explore though… hey, looking at that mansion may be good research…

Background:

Once long ago there was a wandering girl named Days, she lived out on her own- her family was god knows where and boy did she… not think about how to get back to her spawn when she started wandering out. Oops. It’s fine though… eventually she came upon a savanna village and in exchange for helping with basic work she took up one of the empty houses and lived among them (based on my singleplayer world).

But… that wasn’t enough for her, she wasn’t great at building pretty things, nor was she good in a real fight, and if she ever tried redstone she’d likely fail miserably… yet, there was one thing she knew she was good at. Exploring, seeing the unknown and taking note of it, perhaps bringing riches back home for those around her.

So she made a habit of it, going out for weeks seeing what lies in one direction of the vast world they lived in- making notes of what she sees, of what others could use and perhaps along the way she could find something to bring home with her…

Along the way she actually begun to see other people, adventurers like her. From them she heard a curious tale, one of “The End”, about how a dragon is said to live there and killing it could bring riches to those present… and what got Days’ attention was a rumor that the dragon’s breath could be collected and used in potions. Now wouldn’t that be something unique to bring home?

With this in mind she decided to follow a group to a stronghold they had found, they were mainly there for the fight it seems… and that was good, Days had no intention on trying to fight the dragon herself so they could do that for her, she just needed to get close enough to use those bottles she had on hand.

When they arrived well… Days had no words for the realm, it wasn’t like anything else she had ever seen… and boy was being around that bottomless pit of the void anxiety inducing. This was the hard part, she stuck close to the more combat trained players, as they got in range of the dragon.

Oh.

Oh that’s a large mob.

Maybe she had gotten in over her head but it’s fine… right?

She waited, and waited (maybe she should have also brought a pumpkin)- the opportunity had to come soon… and she saw it, the dragon flew close to the ground and attacks her current comrades with that strange purple breath.

Okay, there it is. She ran out and got as much of it as she could carry in her arms before running like mad back out of the way.

She heard a loud noise sometime after, like the crackling of a firecracker. What was that…

Erm.

Where did everyone go?

Slowly moves out of her hiding spot, no one around aside from a sea of enderman and a… that has to be the portal back yes?

… And another portal, suspended in air. What is that? Where did that lead? Curiosity overrode the basic sense of safety she should have been following and with some careful building she got up to it. It’s too small to crawl into… a pearl could do the trick though!

So she did…

But...

An odd feeling overcame her when she appeared on the other side, on a platform overlooking an expanse of islands. The view wasn’t what was on her mind though… her body was moving on it’s own, like some unknown force had taken control of her limbs and pushed her into the backseat.

There was no time to truly react until she had already stepped off the edge.

Like some sort of sick joke it was only at this point did she regain control of her body, when she was face to face with the abyss that surrounded the realm. She tried to in her panic send another pearl but it didn’t land, leaving her without anything she could do.

This wasn’t… this wasn’t how she wanted to die. What else could she do? She had a few seconds to at least try to see if she had anything else on her…

The bottles… she had never heard of using dragon breath on it’s own, it seemed more like it’d be an ingredient than anything else but…

She’s desperate, dragons live here right? Maybe it could do something. So she chugged it and hoped for the best.

Well.

Death never came to her.

But, she just kept falling…

...And falling…

Had she just locked herself into a fate worse than death in her attempt to survive? It came to a point where she couldn’t even see land anymore.

…

She didn’t know how long she had been there, there was no distinction of day or night in the End. Yet… there was a point she felt herself go eerily calm, no panic, no sadness.

She was just numb.

The void was an odd thing, at a glance it was only a silent empty space but at some point she heard… things. She didn’t know what it was saying, it was speaking a language she knew nothing of yet whatever presence it represented it seemed to overtime envelope her- not like the force that had forced her off the edge though, something more… benevolent? Was that even accurate? Either way that feeling corruption only grew over time.

Something had changed. An unfamiliar weight upon her back, an instinct she most certainly didn’t have before.

Fly. Get out. Home.

When faced with that after ages seeing nothing but fuzzy black there was no other option but to act right?

With that she… flew. She had wings. Where did that..

…

She can think on this later, her mind was mostly set on finding land. It took a long time, and by the time she managed to grip onto the edge of an island she was utterly exhausted.

But, she was a step closer to home.

Or was she already home?

It wasn’t until some hours later did she realize she had passed out, dragging herself up as she properly took in her situation. Not only did she find those wings but also a long tail, distinctly draconic but in colors of white and silver, some scales shining in an almost holographic color.

… She was no longer entirely human that’s for sure, was it the potion combined with the void that did something? She’ll… have to look into that. For now she had to get out.

How though? The islands were vast and she had been moving for who knows how long. She past by odd structures (cities?), many endermen and vast amounts of just… nothing. The only thing that kept her remotely grounded were old books she had in her bag, now that she could actually read them without fear of dropping them straight into nothing.

Years of being alone with creatures that couldn’t understand you was a terrible thing for the mind. She hadn’t realized it but at some point she has practically shut down aside from her singular goal of leaving.

It was that single mindedness that eventually got her back to the original island (what state was it in? Who knows that’s up to the greater lore people), thankfully the portal was still open for her to get the hell out.

… Uh…

Where--

Is she on a table?

… And that’s several different people just looking at her.

Oops.

#zablr syndicate au #long post #Posts from the void+#that'll be the character tag thing #this character has my name but lmao they have very little in common with me #totally not a kh bootleg

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