#just read up on what scarlet quartz actually do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohmyasmodeus · 4 years

Text

𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ☼

first of all, @smolomon, i hope you know that i would die for you. effective now. if you want me to take a bullet for you i seriously will, thank you so much !! and thank you for your patience, i know this request has been sitting in the drafts for a hot minute, but i really wanted to make sure my writing was top notch because this is one of the best requests i’ve received thus far. i hope you love this imagine as much as i do ♡

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳

✧ You never believe people when they say that heaven is a place on earth, but standing with Lucifer on a deserted train platform waiting for the train home, bathed in golden light… you think you finally understand. You can’t help but laugh softly at the irony. Lucifer had visited you in the human world and spent the entire day with you, and the date couldn’t have ended in a better way.

✧ “What is it, love?” Lucifer murmurs as he pulls you close with his arms around your waist. Here, neither of you have to worry about affecting his reputation, and he showers you in affection freely. The sunset’s light illuminates his face brilliantly, falling on his strong cheekbones and making his lashes appear golden.

“I’m going to miss you...” you sigh. You gently bring your hands up to cradle his face, watching as his eyes gleam a vibrant scarlet as the light hits them.

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promised to take you to that museum this weekend, didn’t I?” The smile Lucifer gives you— the overwhelming love and all the sweet promises behind that smile make your heart ache, and he starts to sway the both of you gently as he talks. “But… I’m going to miss you too, _______.”

And you know he will. Despite the distance between the both of you, despite the dignified front that he has to put on around people, Lucifer is just as obsessed with you as you are with him. You know it and you feel it in the way his breath catches in his throat when he marvels at how gorgeous you look in the light; the way he holds you close while watching the sun set past the city’s skyline, slowly casting the both of you in brilliant crimson and golden light. There is nothing that needs to be said between the both of you. Your train rushes into the platform, and the moment is over in the blink of an eye, but Lucifer hugs you tight one last time before letting you leave. His gloved hand runs down the length of your arm as he lets you go.

You want to watch him watch your train drive by, but the wistful look he gives you as you leave is too much to leave everything simply unsaid. You find yourself rushing back to him and nearly tackling him as you fall into his arms almost desperately, looking up at him as you clutch the front of his coat to say, “Kiss me, Lucifer.”

And he kisses you without hesitation; without consideration for the people around you, without the need to hide just how in love he is with you. His hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, wanting everyone on the platform to know that he is eternally yours.

Heaven is a place on earth; any place at all with Lucifer.

♡ 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯

✧ hey, come over [received, 6:45pm]

✧ like rn [received, 6:46pm]

✧ Mammon seems disgruntled as you pull him onto the roof of your apartment building, and you have to hold in a laugh. You know your sudden text might’ve made him expect something completely different from being hustled onto a roof while holding a small stack of tupperware boxes.

“Oi, what am I! A slave?” Mammon whines as you direct him to set the boxes down on the floor. Crossing his arms, he pouts as he watches you set the picnic cloth down with a flourish, close to the barred railings of the rooftop. “Ya can’t just call me up and expect me to be at your every damn beck and call!”

“We have a pact, so I kind of can. Now shush and eat.” You pinch his cheek with a laugh, before pulling him down to have a seat with you. It’s obvious how much he missed you and continues to miss you every moment the two of you are apart, so even with his whining, you have to show him some love and lean your head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around your waist instinctively to keep you as close as he possibly can, even as he rolls his eyes and grumbles.

Like a painting, the pale blue sky slowly shifts to gentle hues of rose quartz and dandelion yellow, and Mammon is completely enraptured. Completely thrilled in his silence, he grins as he watches the sun sink behind the hills that frame your city. If it wasn’t for you bringing the spoon up to his lips every so often, he would’ve let his food go cold in its lonely tupperware box. You find yourself enraptured as well, enchanted by the way his eyes light up and eventually flick to gaze at you.

“Ya never get to see anything like this in the Devildom… Never thought I’d call humans lucky, but shit.” Mammon’s voice is quiet, as if speaking any louder would frighten the sunset off and make the moment disappear. “It’s beautiful.”

Your heart can’t contain itself, and you laugh softly as you lean into his side and feed him another spoonful. “Just like you.”

“That’s my line…” Mammon grumbles, but there isn’t a hint of heat behind his words. Instead, he takes off his jacket and drapes it across the both of you, settling into your warmth as the evening chill starts to set in. Eventually, you’ll manage to wiggle into his lap and talk about the deepest parts of yourselves while trying to count the stars, completely unafraid to be true; but for now, you give him a kiss and quietly watch the greatest sunset of your life with your favourite person in the world.

♡ 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯

✧ Littered with reminders of him, your car is Leviathan’s favourite place to be. On days where you manage to wrangle him out of his room, he loves following you around as you run your errands in the human world and, much like a satisfied puppy, ends up waiting in the car with his Nintendo switch. (It makes you get the urge to place a sign on the door telling everyone that your snake of a boyfriend has the air conditioning turned on and has the window cracked open.)

✧ “Hey, look!” you say, trying to catch Levi’s attention. Aside from a noncommittal murmur from the demon that lays his head on your chest while the both of you snuggle in the backseat, your comment receives pretty much no acknowledgement whatsoever. You end up having to knee Levi to get him to look. “Babe, look out the window!”

Levi sighs, and sets his switch down on his chest. He shivers slightly in pleasure when you run a hand through his hair. “The sky’s just purple.”

“Just keep watching,” you tell him as you continue stroking his hair. Shades of lilac dominate the sky, fading off into a deeper royal shade struck through with bolts of gold that scatter throughout the clouds that pass. It all reminds you of him, the amount of charming personality he hides in the comfortable obscurity of his bedroom, the amount of secrets he reveals only to you. Levi watches in quiet contemplation that swiftly turns into fascination, especially when the stars start glimmering through the pale clouds.

“Woah!” he exclaims. “That’s so unreal! You guys get to watch stuff like this every day?”

“Most people don’t bother looking away from their screens for long enough to!” With a teasing laugh, you pinch his cheek and wrap your arms around his waist to snuggle closer into him.

“H-hey! Leave me alone!”

“I didn’t say I was talking about you! Are you admitting to something?” As Levi struggles in your grasp, you bury your face in his neck to blow raspberries that have him giggling, cheeks turning red as he tries to tickle you in return. You want to do this with him every night, you want to see him blush as you tease him… You want to give him all the affection you can, cuddled up in the backseat of your car for as long as he can stay in your arms.

♡ 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯

✧ Soft grass tickles your skin and makes you smile, but what makes you smile the most is the way Satan tries to hide his blush with his book as you guide him to lay his head in your lap. The grass patch the pair of you settle into is a great change of pace from spending time trapped in the tomb-like library that Satan’s bedroom had become, and it’s all too easy to accidentally end up spending the entire day there together.

✧ “This is nice,” you hum, running your hand through Satan’s silky blond hair, ruffling it gently like the breeze ruffles the greenery that surrounds you. “I can actually breathe.”

“But at what cost…” Satan mumbles with a half-baked attempt at sounding dissatisfied. He blows away a cute bug that had found its way onto his leather bound book, which flits away, catching your eye with the way the fading sunlight catches on its gossamer wings. You fully know that Satan enjoys the setting as much as you do, and you kiss his forehead as you chuckle.

The time you spend with him is wonderful in its tranquility. The both of you understand each other, and understand that not all time needs to be spent talking. You revel in the quiet moments where his unspoken love washes over you with the way he holds your hand, or gazes at you quietly with a loving softness before returning to what he had been doing before. You love the way he loves you. You love the way he blushes when you show him any kind of affection, as if unused to the vulnerability of receiving genuine outspoken love.

The gilded light falls perfectly on Satan’s face, making his pale lashes look almost delicate while the sun sets before you. The sun slowly dips behind the rolling hills, and Satan gasps softly as he watches the shades of red set the sky ablaze behind sparse mist-like clouds.

“I’ve read about plenty of sunsets… but there are no words in any language that could capture something like this.” Satan’s voice is full of an innocent kind of wonder as he speaks, one that you have rarely heard him express. The many kinds of happiness that Satan expresses daily, though seemingly real, are all nuanced masks that the cynical demon skilfully applies— but the adorable crinkles under his eyes and the shamelessly wide grin makes it obvious that this is genuine happiness. He notices your silence and reaches a hand up to caress your cheek. “What are you thinking about, ______?”

“Just how I want to be like this forever with you.” You lean into his touch and lean down to kiss him with a radiant smile that matches his.

Satan manages to laugh softly this time, relaxing into the soft displays of affection with you, though his faint blush refuses to fade. “I think I’d like that.”

♡ 𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘴

✧ Dates in the human world aren’t dates if they don’t include having dessert at the most stylish bistros in the city. Not to Asmodeus, at least, and you can understand. They might be expensive at times, but these cafes offer the best food for the both of you to feed each other over the table, and are perfect for a million different photo opportunities that help Asmodeus let everyone who follows him know that his life is so much better than theirs.

✧ Which is why you’re surprised to notice that not once has Asmo demanded your help in taking photos after the sun had begun to set. Through the wide windows of the bistro that you sit beside, the sunlight filters through in a mix of pale golds and pinks. It’s the perfect opportunity for yet another set of pictures, but Asmo just sits happily, chattering on and asking you questions about yourself while he sips his milkshake.

“But it’s so tacky, isn’t it! Like, stop involving yourself in drama and get a life!” Asmodeus huffs, and you could laugh at his hypocrisy.

“Ugh, you’re so cute.”

“I know.” Asmo winks and slides his hand over the one you rest on the table to gently hold it, resting his chin on his free hand as he gazes at the way the sunlight paints your skin in gorgeous crystalline shades. His amber eyes are akin to those of churchgoers that gaze up at stained glass depictions of the saints in their adoration. It makes you blush, the way he smiles at you like you are his entire world, and quietly takes in your beauty.

You laugh bashfully. “You feeling okay? You haven’t asked me to take pictures of you at all today.”

“We have all of eternity to keep taking pictures of me. I just wanted to focus on you today, ______.” Asmo’s voice softens as he says that, and he takes your hand to kiss your knuckles with complete devotion. “You’re beautiful.”

“Ah… you really think so?”

“I’ve never seen a sunset before, but as stunning as it is, it’s still nothing compared to you, love.” Asmo’s smile is as gentle as the warmth the sunlight makes you feel as it falls upon your skin, and the love he showers you with is so familiar in its all-encompassing glow. Despite his sin, you never have to fear not being enough for him. He reminds you of it in so many ways every single day, and it makes you blush and return his gentle smile. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You can’t believe it either, and it makes you laugh quietly as you pull him by the collar into a sweet kiss over the cafe table, tasting the sugary sweet strawberry milkshake on his lips. It’s so him, and every little thing about Asmo just makes you crazier for him.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘣

✧ The neon lights of the carnival are blinding, the laughter from having so much fun around your favourite person in the world making your stomach hurt, but you simply can’t stop. Especially not when Beelzebub carries you on his shoulders while running around the place and through the funhouses with childish glee. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair as you giggle and kiss his head, watching the sun slowly sink from the top of the world.

✧ Beel is trying to fix your hair at the end of it, sticking his tongue out in concentration while the both of you stand on the boardwalk, cooled by the seaside wind. It makes you giggle at him even more as you hold the cotton candy that you had bought to share.

“Where does your parting go again?” Beel mutters. “Left or right?”

“It’s fine, baby,” you chuckle, and tiptoe to kiss the tip of his tongue, resting your hand on his chest. It makes him give you a goofy smile around his tongue before he pulls it back in. You swear you feel your heart melt. “But thanks for trying.”

Under your hand, you feel Beel’s heart still wildly beating, and you’re not quite sure if it’s from the adrenaline of winning so many games and riding the rollercoasters, or if it’s from something else. You know that your heart is definitely still racing, but mostly because of the proximity between the both of you. The sun is setting past the horizon at this point, and you see it clearly slip halfway below the waves. The waves almost bleed crimson with the sky, and gold scatters across the waves as they crest over the horizon.

“______…” Beel’s voice is quiet in its awe. You feel his hand hold yours as he watches.

“Right?” You say, leaning into him. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” He’s almost too distracted by the sight to take a nibble of the cotton candy, but of course he does, and you smile at his courtesy. He always saves some of his food to share with you no matter how hungry he can be. “It’s just like you… You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever met before. Special. And you’re really beautiful, too.”

“Even with my hair like this?” You can’t help but giggle some more. He always does this to you, makes you feel a lightness and a warmth that you’ve never felt before around anyone else.

Beel kisses your head, and then leans down to kiss you, smiling against your lips. You feel the sticky sugar of the cotton candy on his lips, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling into the kiss too.

“Even with your hair. No matter what you look like, I want to be yours.”

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳

✧ You don’t know exactly what makes Belphegor visit you so much, considering the fact that he does the same thing in the human world that he does in the Devildom— sleep so much that he hardly pays attention to you.

✧ Complaining is easy, but you know that he can’t help it. Belphie tries to stay awake and do fun things with you when he can, and when he can’t, he’s always pulling you into bed so he can cuddle up with you and still dote on you in his own quiet way. You like that about him.

Belphie’s silky hair reflects the light that streams in through the windows, the faint orange and lilac hues dancing across him and casting shadows on the sheets, and you can’t help but press the softest kiss to his forehead.

“Wake up, Belphie,” you whisper. “Dinnertime.”

“Mm.” He shifts in the sheets and reluctantly opens his eyes with slow, sleepy blinks that make you want to shower him in all your love. Giving you a squeeze, he sighs and buries his face in your neck to hide from the light. With a bit of coaxing, you get him to sit up in bed with you, the both of you still swaddled in the comfortable covers as you lean into each other drowsily. Even in his sleepy state, you’re irresistible to Belphie. His hands wander slowly across your skin as he pulls you into him, the both of you quietly watching through the window as the sky turns brilliant shades of violet, the sun setting behind the buildings in the distance.

Belphie moves languidly. He rests his chin on your shoulder while mumbling, “Would you look at that.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” you sigh. “You’d get to see stuff like this more often if we actually went out when you visit.”

“Mm, but why would I go out if I could keep you all to myself here in bed?” Belphie’s voice is accompanied by his chuckling, and you can’t help but blush and nudge him with your elbow.

“You sound so gross.”

“You love it. You love me.” Belphie laughs and finds your hand to hold underneath the covers, and he holds you as close as he possibly can, nuzzling his face into your neck once more. You feel him leave the softest kisses on your skin as he intertwines your fingers in his. “...I love you, ______.”

Complaining is easy, until you’re reminded of moments like these with him, where life is simply too perfect to be real.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

492 notes · View notes

divine-champion · 3 years

Text

Weapon Speculation

Forgive the long post, mobile doesn't like read more option.

-------------------------

Alright, with the 2.3 trailer out and many losing their minds over the Dragonspine segment, something has been bugging me.

Among many others things that the trailer and special program have shown us, one thing has me a bit curious. And of all things, it's the event weapon, Cinnabar Spindle.

Now, from the aesthetic angle, it's Albedo's weapon. This is obvious. But this gave me undertones of "Albedo is a weapon." Given the Khaenri'ah origins of his alchemy, and the ending of The Chalk Prince and the Dragon event, wherein he mentions Durin's life force resonating with him, this makes sense.

Now for the actual name, Cinnabar Spindle. Mihoyo does like putting in little details and making sure that they're accounted for. So while we don't have a confirmed lore description, perhaps the name provides clues.

Cinnabar

Cinnabar is a toxic mineral, known for its red color. Looking at images of the minerals and color, I theorize that the scarlet quartz we see around Dragonspine and within the heart cave is Teyvat's equivalent of cinnabar. This lines up with Durin's blood being poisonous and it affecting Dvalin.

As a crystal, cinnabar stone also has ties to alchemy. And its uses appear to be positive. Among them is the mention of being more confident in what life has in store, more self-assured for those with self-acceptance issues, removing one's deepest fears and releasing one's anger.

This sounds relatively close to what we saw in the trailer when Albedo attacked Eula. He wasn't his usual composed, calm self. One can speculate that he was angry. Perhaps confident in his abilities to harm. Or even accepting just how dangerous he himself is with the art of Khemia.

Spindle

Now reading the word, the first thing that came to mind was a loom.

The way Teyvat functions and how important fates and destinies are, plus the mention of the Loom of Fate in the 1.4 Archon Quest, it is implied that everyone appears has a predestined life/fate. But since the Traveler is an outlander, they appear to have subtle impacts on these strings. It is not that noticeable in some accounts, but the ripples do show themselves when we spend time with these individuals.

--------------

When all of this said and done, what could Cinnabar Spindle potentially hold lore wise?

I theorize that it may be related to Albedo's own lore or his thoughts. Aesthetics aside, we've seen this with the weapons tied to Durin, Dragonspine Spear and Festering Desire.

Perhaps the sword is simply named the Cinnabar Spindle because in a subtle way, it can allude to Albedo accepting what his fate will be and everything about him.

#divine rambles #genshin impact #albedo #me actually posting something instead of reblogging #a miracle has happened #im pretty sure i overanalyzed the weapon name #but literally no one else was talking about it #and i wanted to voice my thoughts

12 notes · View notes

d3-iseefire · 3 years

Text

Nevermore Chapter Seven

Arkenstone boasted a monster sized parking garage set behind the main complex, and that fact alone nearly had Bilba turning around and going home right then and there. She hated parking garages, and an isolated parking garage late at night was nothing short of a nightmare.

It was only when she recalled the image of an injured werewolf prince facing off against a creep to protect her that she gritted her teeth, steeled herself, and drove in.

Drove in down a steep ramp, which meant the first level was underground.

Of course it was.

She spotted an entrance to the mall, marked with white lettering and signs, and parked as close to it as she could get. This late at night, there was only a smattering of cars and her footsteps seemed to echo like rifle shots as she hurried toward the metal door.

The ground floor where she entered, was the mall itself, wide corridors lined with shops of all kinds on both sides. Quite a few were shuttered but with Arkenstone being a 24 hour venue just as many were still open. Down the center of the tiled corridor were still more booths, boasting everything from jewelry to candy to exotic foods and more.

As she passed a storefront featuring cinnamon rolls, Bilba was surprised to hear her stomach rumble. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at something fun like that and actually felt hungry. She ate because she had to, not usually because she wanted to.

She spotted a large map of the mall on a nearby wall and headed toward it to make sure she knew where she was going. The lounge/restaurant/thingy for which the entire complex was named was on the top floor. According to the map, she needed a bank of elevators on the exact opposite side of the mall from where she’d entered.

Figured.

She walked quickly toward that end, eyes fixed on the floor in front of her and arms wrapped tightly around her torso. There weren’t very many people out this late, not on this floor anyway, but it still made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like being in public. It was too easy for Lotho, or one of his lackeys, to hide in a crowd and watch her without her knowing. She could walk back out to her car and find them waiting, or get dragged into a dark corner the second she let her guard down.

The elevators came into view and she rushed to push the button to summon the car. When it opened the entire inside appeared to be polished quartz panels with gold trim and a marble floor. Bilba stepped in hesitantly, and the doors slid shut soundlessly behind her.

She hit the button that had an ornate A under it, and pressed back into a corner of the car. She felt the drop in her stomach signaling the car had started to move and tried to force herself to relax.

She didn’t do well in enclosed spaces anymore. Things like elevators, public restrooms, anywhere with only one way in or out. Places where she lost the ability to control when, how, or if, she exited.

The button she’d pushed went dark and, with a quiet ding, the door slid smoothly open onto the most opulent, and extravagant lounge Bilba had ever seen. The far side featured massive panes of window glass stretching from the floor to the ceiling. She’d never noticed windows from the front of the building, which meant they must boast a spectacular view of the hills and far off mountains that lay behind the complex.

During the day at least. Currently, they were simply black rectangles, and served to remind her of the risk she was taking being out this late. Her eyes caught on doors at the bottom of several panes and, for a brief second, she let herself imagine sitting at a table out there, sipping on a drink and reading a book. Nothing but a beautiful landscape, and the rustle of leaves on nearby trees.

It must be peaceful.

She pulled her mind from that particular fantasy, and focused on the rest of the room. It was massive, and just...overwhelming to be perfectly honest. Chandeliers and marble and quartz sparkled from seemingly every corner. The place seemed to be a hybrid more than a true lounge, complete with a small dance floor and what looked like a full service kitchen. There were areas with couches and televisions, other spaces with expensive, leather covered booths, and still more sections that looked designed to just let people sit and talk.

A massive, winding staircase led up to a balcony style second level while, on the main level, she could see several raised portions that appeared to be private seating. There was quiet music playing over the entire room, almost drowning out the quiet clink of silverware, soft noise from a few television sets and the low drone of chattering voices.

Wringing the hem of her shirt in her hands, Bilba stepped hesitantly out of the elevator. It was fine. She’d just...go in and...do..something. She didn’t expect to see the prince himself but maybe she could...talk to someone or...or maybe…

Her thoughts trailed off as her eyes, moving over the room, landed on a small, sectioned off part of the floor elevated about ten or so feet above the main floor. It was in the back, and shadowed, consisting of a single table with a group of people seated at it.

The one that drew her attention was a young woman with a veritable mane of flaming, scarlet hair but, next to her, was a young, dark haired man, sitting in profile so all she could see was the side of his face

Bilba fumbled out her phone and quickly recalled the search she’d done that had given her the prince’s name. The picture popped up and she studied it before looking up again to try and compare it to the young man at the table.

When she did, she nearly dropped her phone because the young man in question was definitely the prince, and he was currently staring directly at her.

The entire table was, in fact, and not just them. She could still hear the music, and the televisions, but the chatter had died down entirely. Everywhere she looked she saw eyes, all staring directly at her.

This had been a mistake. Such a massive mistake. Bilba shuffled backward, her hands dragging on her shirt hem. What had she been thinking? She didn’t belong here. She had to leave. Just leave.

She whirled around, and bit back a shriek as she nearly ran into a massive man suddenly standing directly behind her. He was like one of those guys she saw sometimes in weight lifting competitions. He was bald on the top of his head, but instead of trying to hide it he’d chosen to simply tattoo his scalp.

“Can I help you?” his voice was gravely, almost a growl that sent a chill up her spine. He crossed his arms over his chest, causing his muscles to bulge in a way that probably led to a lot of burst seams in his suit jackets and dress shirts.

Bilba shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I thought this area was public access.”

“It is,” he said flatly. “Can I help you?”

Bilba hesitated. She forced herself to let go of her shirt before she put a hole in it, and turned to glance back toward the table on that small, raised level.

It was empty.

Empty, and everyone else in the room was still staring at her.

“Um--” Bilba turned back toward the enormous man, half turned again to the now empty table and came to the unescapable realization that she’d made a horrific mistake. Again. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I made a mistake. I need to go.”

She edged slowly around the man, toward the elevator. He turned, following her movements but, to her surprise, didn’t attempt to stop her.

Bilba got on the elevator and fumbled for the buttons, finally finding the one for the bottom floor and rapidly pushed it. The door slid closed, and she collapsed against the wall. She felt like she’d run a marathon and slowly allowed herself to slide down the wall into a crouch.

What had she been thinking? He was a prince. Of course she couldn’t just march over and talk to him. The fact he’d even been there to begin with had been a massive shock.

She shoved a hand through her hair, and flinched as it caught on a few knots and pulled painfully. .

“Now what?” she whispered. She still had a mostly unconscious werewolf prince in her bed, and was no closer to finding him help. Maybe the pain medication would somehow get him to wake up enough to give her a phone number?

She let out a groan, wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her head on her knees. This was exhausting...she was exhausted. She had work in the morning and then she’d need to ready the house for when, not if, Lotho showed up and then a million other things that she did to keep herself from having to stop and think too much.

She didn’t have time for any of this.

Guilt hit her. Fili had been there for her when she’d needed him, and here she was begrudging the fact that he needed her to return the favor?

She really was just a terrible person, wasn’t she?

The elevator slowed to a stop on the ground floor and she pushed to her feet as the door dinged and slid open, to an almost entirely empty level.

Bilba hesitated. There had been people earlier, hadn’t there? Not many, but some.

She stepped out slowly, almost peeking out before taking the risk of fully committing to leaving the elevator car. Maybe it was just this area that was empty and, as soon as she got off, she’d see --

Emptiness.

The whole floor, in both directions, and there was no distant sound to suggest anyone was out of eyesight either. Bilba suppressed a chill. Just relax. She was making a mountain out of a molehill. It was late, and there hadn’t been a lot of people to begin with. A movie had probably just started, or perhaps something in the underground entertainment complex had just opened. This was probably perfectly normal, she just didn’t know because she’d never come before.

She began walking, probably faster than absolutely necessary...except for the fact that it certainly felt absolutely necessary.

She passed by an open storefront and glanced inside, only for it to appear as empty as the rest of the floor. It was a clothing store, she chided herself, and it was late. There was probably only one person working and they were just in the back. Same with the next store...and the next...and the one after that.

By the fourth seemingly empty store, Bilba’s walk was just under a jog. She kept her eyes fixed on her feet, and tried her best to listen for any sort of sound over the quiet music blaring over the loudspeakers.

It couldn’t be Lotho. He didn’t have the kind of...whatever it was that would be needed to empty out the floor, especially of employees who were paid to be there.

She wanted to go back to the house. She never should have come here. It had been a mistake, one in a long list of mistakes she seemed to forever be making throughout the course of her life.

The door to the parking garage beckoned and she hurried toward it, feeling only a light modicum of relief as she pushed out into the darkened complex.

It was eerily quiet. No sounds of other cars, or people coming or going, not even the noise of traffic outside. She headed toward her car, mind instinctively going to every horror movie she’d ever seen that involved a woman walking alone at night.

She was both surprised and relieved to make it to her car, and even more so when she looked in and saw the backseat was empty. For a brief moment in time, it felt like the universe was giving her a break. A second of fortune in a flood of misfortune. She felt almost normal, for a second.

And then she slid her key into the ignition, turned it...and the engine refused to turn over.

Bilba’s heart jolted and she tensed. She turned the key again, and mentally prayed as the engine tried, and failed, to turn over.

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” she breathed. She turned the key again, and again after that, only to hear the same sounds of a motor struggling, and failing, to catch. She released the key, and sank back in the seat, silence draping over her like a shroud.

Bilba closed her eyes, and let out a breath. Okay, she told herself. It was going to be fine. Just let it be for a minute, then turn the key again and --

Someone knocked on the window next to her.

Bilba shrieked and jumped so hard she hit her head against the roof of her car.

Outside the car, the man who’d startled her gave her a guilty look. He was probably a decade or two older than her, tall and fit with shoulder length, ash-blonde hair and a close shaven beard. He gave her a friendly grin, which did nothing at all to ease Bilba’s anxiety. She forced a smile and gave what she hoped passed for a friendly wave, hoping he’d get the message and leave.

Instead, he leaned in closer, hands shoved in the pockets of the leather jacket he wore. “Car trouble?”

His voice was muffled by the glass and, with a sense of dread, Bilba turned the ignition key just enough to allow her to roll the window down part way. “A little. I’m sure it’s fine though, sometimes it just takes a minute or two to warm up.”

“Why don’t you pop the hood and I’ll take a look?”

Bilba bit back the desire to ask him if he was a mechanic and would therefore have any clue as to what he was doing.. “I’m sure it’s fine. I can just call a tow truck.”

“Not from in here you can’t.” He pointed at the thick concrete over their head. “Come on, I can at least walk you inside if you’re looking for cell service.”

And then what, Bilba thought. He could be just genuinely trying to help, or he could be one of those types that helped with the expectation of being repaid somehow. Usually, they expected a date or something along those lines, and then proceeded to get aggressive or angry when, instead, they simply received gratitude.

The man clearly had no intention of leaving, which left her with few options. She could stay in her car and risk him getting angry, or she could get out to try and find cell service and hope he’d leave her alone once they were back inside and surrounded by people.

The image of the empty floor came to mind and the sense of dread increased. This entire endeavor had been a terrible idea. If only she could rewind time until she was back in the rental house. She’d still have a sick werewolf prince to deal with, but at least she wouldn’t be stuck in her current situation.

She opened the door. The man moved back a few steps and Bilba carefully got out. She pulled her purse strap over her head to wear it crossbody and clutched it as if it were a lifeline.

The man grinned broadly. “Great, let’s go.”

He made no attempt to introduce himself, and Bilba didn’t want to create a false sense of intimacy by asking. Instead she hunched her shoulders and walked quickly back toward the mall entrance. She tried to outpace him, but his size advantage allowed him to keep up with her easily.

She reached the door, grabbed the handle, and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

“Damn,” the man’s voice came from directly behind her. “I didn’t realize how late it was. They must have closed already.”

“Closed?” Bilba turned, only to realize she was now caught between the man in front of her and the door behind her. “I thought it was a 24 hour venue.”

“It is,” the man agreed. “But the mall still locks down at a certain point. If you’re already in Arkenstone, or down in Ered Luin you’re fine but, if you leave, you can’t come back until the mall reopens and if you’re outside when the mall closes--” His words trailed off, and he shrugged.

“Oh.” Bilba gripped her purse strap with both hands again and tugged on it anxiously. Now what? “I -- um --” she turned away from him, and spotted the sloped pavement she’d driven down to enter the garage. “I’ll need to go outside, I guess, to get a signal.”

She gave him a hesitant smile, and started toward the exit. Behind her, his footsteps followed and Bilba quickened her pace in response. It was just as dark outside as it was in, but at least it’d be more open, right? More people around, hopefully. He wasn’t Lotho, so no one else should be in danger.

About a dozen feet ahead of her, a shadow shifted and Bilba bit back a gasp as a stranger stepped into view from behind a pillar. As he took several steps closer, the shadows fell away to reveal the tattooed man from the lounge. He stopped several feet away from her, crossed his arms and then just...stood there.

Movement came from her other side and a second man stepped into view and took up a matching position. This man was older with a strong build and salt and pepper hair. A thick scar ran from the center of his forehead down through his right eye, leaving it a milky, dull white.

A low, guttural growl echoed through the garage and Bilba’s blood froze in her veins.

At the top of the ramp leading out of the garage, an enormous, coal black wolf appeared. It was smaller than Fili with a slimmer build but was no less massive.

It lowered its head and let out another growl, lips curling back to reveal vicious looking, curved fangs.

Bilba bit back a whimper as a vivid image of those teeth ripping into her flashed through her mind. The wolf took a step forward, and she instinctively backed up, only to run into someone who lightly grabbed her upper arms to steady her.

She’d completely forgotten about the man who’d originally spoken to her at her car. He was looking past her at the wolf with a flat expression.

It, meanwhile, was still approaching. Bilba tried to move, unsure of where she was going to go but just wanting to go somewhere else, only to have the man behind her tighten his grip to hold her in place.

The wolf moved into a darker section of the garage where the lights set in the ceiling didn’t reach. The shadows themselves seemed to shift and, when they released him, it was a man who strode out instead of a wolf.

And not just any man bit the dark haired prince whose picture had come up when she’d searched the name Kili online. In those images the man had been smiling and carefree. He was anything but now. His body was wound as tight as a bow string, and the look in his eyes was hard enough to strike her dead on the spot if they held the power.

He strode right up to her, towering over her and, when he spoke, it was as if he’d carried the wolf over into his voice. “You have ten seconds to tell me where the hell my brother is, and why you’re soaked in his blood. Start talking.”

Continue Reading on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

9 notes · View notes

gh0stbird · 4 years

Note

Okay Now Do The Rest

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Bright but argumentative. I was never afraid of pointing out things I didn’t feel were fair hfhddh

When we were learning numbers kids would often write 91 for nineteen, just flip them, y’know, and Ms. Potter yelled at the class for it. Baby Generiq went into it about how it was an understandable mix up because you do say the number first. In twenty-three you write the two first, so in nineteen it’s easy to assume you would write the nine first.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Tired.

8. movies or tv shows?

TV shows. Every book adaptation should also be a series not a movie. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Honeysuckle and sunshine

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Floor hockey! My friend and I used to be brutal and swing at each other’s shins going after the ball. Also it was reminiscent of golf, which I competed in.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

I have an untitled playlist I cycle my current music in and out of, but Newton’s Third Law is my favorite named one!

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

I don’t- I guess the yellow smarties. Don’t come for me they taste like lemonade.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I assume this means assigned book and not the reports we got to pick for ourselves. Ah, Night was good. Lord of the Flies was fine but way overhyped. Again, don’t come for me.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

If I can tuck my legs into the chair I am sitting in that is ideal!

18. ideal weather?

When you know it is going to rain and you get to stay home

19. sleeping position? (Skipped on accident)

I reeeally like pressure, so either against something or on my stomach.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone notes and a notebook! Sometimes a blank document but I always find it strangely intimidating

21. obsession from childhood?

Warrior Cats, Percy Jackson, and Maximum Ride were my big three!

22. role model?

Aa I try to straw from people I want to copy, but there are talents I look up to. Rachel Chavkin is a brilliant director, and there are so many artists and authors I look up to and who inspire me.

24. favorite crystal?

Obsidian because it’s black like my hea- I’m kidding, I do love obsidian, but it’s Rose Quartz because it’s a very very pretty, soft pink and makes me happy.

25. first song you remember hearing?

The mobile above my crib played Imagine by John Lennon. My childhood room was themed after it as well!

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Swim or sit in the sunshine. Ben and I usually go driving with the top down as well.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Walking through fresh snow is amazing, so are snowball fights and building snowmen.

28. five songs to describe you?

Oh fuck yes

Hurricane - Hamilton

The Reckless and the Brave - All Time Low

Almost There - The Princess and the Frog

All This and Heaven Too - Florence + the Machine

Facade - Jekyll and Hyde: A Gothic Musical Thriller

30. places that you find sacred?

I don’t typically find places sacred, but certain headspaces are very special to me, and time spent with loved ones means more than enough to be considered sacred.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A black blazer with a white button-down and a skirt.

32. top five favorite vines?

I am in Missouri (misery)

I love you, Bitch

I want a Church girl

Obama’s “I know because I won both of them”

I won’t hesitate, Bitch!

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“No worries”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

That fucking PFI bandana boot sale I stg

35. average time you fall asleep?

Somewhere between 9:00 and three in the morning

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Some girl doing bunny ears on her friend. I don’t remember what the caption was

38. lemonade or tea?

Both. Mixed together. It’s called an Arnold Palmer and it is my favorite drink

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon cake!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

We duck taped out principal to the wall once. Also some kid broke their tray over another kid’s head at lunch one time.

41. last person you texted?

The family group chat, though Beau if Discord counts

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I wear a lot of leggings so jacket pockets!

44. favorite scent for soap?

We had some Lily of the Valley hand soap that was amazing

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy, I think! I’ve never done super heavy into the other two. Though I definitely don’t want to ignore sci-fi because two of my favorite stories are a little science-fiction-y

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

A t-shirt and shorts

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

A banana. Generally accepted as a fruit and kind of just rolls with it, but is actually a berry

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

I fucking hate Hamilton-ing on main, but

“And when my prayers to god were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance!”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

That changes every time Beau and I play HetaOni together, but I have fucking lost it for at least five minutes the last two sessions.

51. current stresses?

I dunno, man, life? My hair could use a wash

52. favorite font?

Covered by your Grace and I’m a big Spectral baby. These are both google docs! I don’t know if that makes a difference.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

Patience is important when teaching material, but never be afraid to find another approach better suited to the person you’re tutoring.

55. favorite fairy tale?

Robin Hood!

56. favorite tradition?

My family does homemade Springfield cashew chicken for Christmas!

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhh lots of self-acceptance shit no one really wants to read

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

I can pop the joint at the center of my foot

That’s all

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I sort of like my role as mom friend, so maybe I could keep that role in a sort of action-based anime that followed a group of friends

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“I am not the protégé to waste your time on; I'm complete!” Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

62. seven characters you relate to?

Haha

Lisa Carew - Jekyll and Hyde: GMT

Japan - Hetalia/Oni

Garnett - Steven Universe

Hfhddh that’s all I can say that aren’t my own characters

63. five songs that would play in your club?

I Don’t Like Clubs, but

Overwhelmed - Royal + The Serpent

Backseat Serenade - All Time Low

Go Big or Go Home - American Authors

The Nights - Avicii

Tempo - Lizzo

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz!

65. any permanent scars?

Yep - One from a bad bike wreck. My body rejected the dissolvable stitches so it’s a lot bigger than it was supposed to be

66. favorite flower(s)?

Lily of the Valley, daisies, Day Lilies, and Dandelions! I also love honeysuckles but I don’t know if those count.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Accidentally drank rancid milk once!

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? (Haha, nice)

The fastest, free way to fill up your potions on Wizard101 is to play Potion Motion to level three.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed

71. least favorite pattern?

On myself, animal print

72. worst subject?

I’ve never been intuitively good at History, I do think it’s interesting though.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I don’t like to take it until I can’t move without it.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

Kindergarten? I had mono and then scarlet fever twice, so my baby teeth were pretty much ruined and they all fell out very fast.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Curly fries!

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Kalanchoe’s, it literally Window’s Thrill. These babies are fairly temperamental outside and love partial sun, so the window is the perfect spot for them. And! If you keep them happy! They’ll bloom! My personal favorite is the pink bloom.

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

What’s wrong with coffee from a gas station? Also I don’t like seafood.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Lightning bugs

82. pc or console?

PC!

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts - talk radios actually tend to get under my skin for n o reason

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, but let it be known I was brutal with mine. We did human sacrifices and the like.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology!

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cookies, but I’m a slut for whipped frosting

87. your greatest fear?

Losing control!

88. your greatest wish?

A life beyond where I am now. Haha Stop chasing new down the hallway you’re so sexy haha

90. luckiest mistake?

Logged into Omegle in like 2015 and some rando asked me to join their Doctor Who roleplay. Luckiest moment of my gd life.

91. boxes or bags?

Bags! They’re easier to store

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight! But in the late afternoon when everything is bathed in orange.

93. nicknames?

Mom is the most prevalent!

94. favorite season?

Fall into winter. Peak leaf crunch!

95. favorite app on your phone?

Discord or Notes

3 notes · View notes

zap-writing · 5 years

Text

The sun sets on another day - TRSNS fanfic

@redstone-sun‘s fic fucked me up so I did what I know and wrote about it to cope asdfghjhgf

the basic summary of this fic: Mumbo has a Bad Day(TM) and we stan Good Guy Iskall

AO3 Link

On days like these, Mumbo felt his guilt like concrete weights tied tight around his throat.

The actual impulses and desires to obey that sanguine call no longer affected him as often as they used to―perhaps out of sheer necessity rather than true recovery, but the fine details didn’t matter. Not to Mumbo at least. The intrusive thoughts and feelings, however, were another story.

Sometimes he wished he could just press a button and fix all of his problems like one would a faulty machine, force him through some kind of psychological reboot. His prescribed process was tedious enough as it was; exposure therapy was a snail’s race by nature, and the transitions were mind-numbingly gradual. From mentions of redstone, to discussions of redstone, to looking at redstone, to touching redstone, to holding redstone, to――

And so on and so forth.

Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and the process was anything but linear and orderly. For a long while it felt like every step he took forward, something would send him three steps and a stumble back. One moment he was setting up semi-complex circuits from memory in his obsidian home, the next Grian would make an off-hand comment about a test contraption one of the hermits built nearly killing him and Mumbo would find himself involuntarily wishing it had.

Those moments scared him. He knew that it wasn’t really him thinking then, that it was just some heinous, corrupted part of him, some deep innate brand of the Red Sun festering behind his eyes. But it wasn’t any less terrifying to catch himself tempted by the crimson voice in the back of his mind that told him he didn’t belong in the overworld, that he needed to continue wiring in the quartz covered plains or he’d never be satisfied, to beg and steal and lie and cheat if it meant getting back to the Sun’s dimension, that if anyone got in his way he had to kill kill kill kill kilL KILL KILL KILL KILL K―

. . .

Those nights, Mumbo felt pain beyond anything he’d known before, from the crescent welts of his fingernails dug deep into the meat of his forearms, to the once-foreign hopelessness that left him wondering why anyone thought he was worth saving anymore.

--------------------------------------------

On days like these, Mumbo found himself convinced that he’d never be released from his blood-stained binds.

It hurt more than he cared to admit, having redstone so intrinsically ruined for him. Sure, he had brute-forced his way into standing it enough to look over blueprints with Iskall and play with it like a child when he was alone, but it was never the same. Nothing compared to the satisfaction of improving on an existing design, nor the pride and excitement of inventing something entirely new.

Inventions. Redstone was such a progressive material, a resource far beyond any of the hermits’ understanding. It was able to do just about anything if only someone could crack the code to get there. Most of them already knew of the wonders it could provide--plenty of the hermits used redstone-based bionics, or at the very least a form of enhancement.

Iskall was no stranger to them, obviously. Perhaps Mumbo shouldn’t have been surprised, then, when the man came to him amidst his wallowing with a stack of crudely arranged notes in hand. He was somehow more chipper and cheeky than usual if the bright smile on his face was anything to go by. There was a proud sort of flourish as he handed the papers to Mumbo, who sat with wariness and confusion. That apprehension, however, was quickly replaced with curiosity.

Blueprints and notes regarding the conception of redstone-powered contraptions and devices would typically be a quick read for Mumbo, but even having been friends with Iskall and Grian for quite some time, there was no way to scan through the chicken-scratch handwriting and less-than discernible doodles in a short amount of time.

Mumbo’s initial attempt at cracking the code that was Iskall’s notes was interrupted not ten seconds in when two loaves of bread, an apple, and a bottle of water was set down in front of him, making him flinch slightly. He stared at the selection for a moment, mouth suddenly dry, before nodding his thanks and reaching for the apple. It was in that instant that Mumbo realized he didn’t remember the last time he had something to eat and swallowed down his embarrassment.

The two men soon fell into silence as Mumbo worked through the notes bit by bit, often pausing to right papers that had somehow folded or flipped upside down in Iskall’s attempt to organize them. Though it took a while, a careful read through informed Mumbo of Iskall’s plans to research a possibility of mechanically repairing his vocal cords.

There was a prominent section on the usage of prismarine crystals and diamond powder to color match the box with his eye prosthetic, and another that explored the possibility of controllable pitch and volume settings.

(In a better scenario, Mumbo would have been terrified at the possibilities that would come with giving Iskall such power, and even now he wondered who the first prank victim would be.)

All of it was quite clearly in the early stages of development, but Mumbo could help but brighten up at the thought of Iskall being able to talk again. It wasn’t something he liked to think about for long or often, but he missed Iskall’s voice. Before the incident, his friend’s laughs and sly comments were one of the things that helped the days go by, and Mumbo knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so. The man deserved his voice and more for what he’d gone through.

But information on Iskall’s voice-box plans came to an unexpected stop halfway through the stack of notes. Suddenly Mumbo was reading through two different handwriting styles about mechanical joints and synthetic muscle fiber and artificial nerve endings and――

He stopped reading. This section contained far too many things he knew too little about.

Head spinning from unfamiliar jargon, he looked up at Iskall in question.

“F...f-for Gri..ian,” came the harsh rumble from Iskall, startling Mumbo in the process. Both of the men stared at each other for a moment, each sheepish in their own right, before Iskall pulled out a relatively new-looking book and began writing.

[Doc let me take a look at his arm a bit ago and helped me out with the technical stuff. I’m hoping that we can replicate a pair for Grian. Took much more work comin up with this blueprint than it did for my voicebox plan lol ]

Mumbo went from bemused to ecstatic as he read Iskall’s explanation, feeling surprisingly hopeful for the first time in a long time. The sheer thought of his friends getting back what he took from them made his heart swell with guilty joy.

The technician’s part of his brain fired off a million different inquiries about how they could get these plans to work, but his heart ached knowing this was a project he wouldn’t have much part in if any. He didn’t specialize in bionics for one, but even if he felt like dabbling in the expertise for the benefit of his friends, Mumbo didn’t want to get too involved out of fear of relapse.

Especially not after today. He just wasn’t ready.

“These plans are incredible, Iskall.” Mumbo whispered in awe, flipping through both sections of the packet thrice over. A part of him yearned to add notes and suggestions of his own along the margins of the already messy prints, but he swallowed down the eagerness and handed the papers back to Iskall with a shaky hand. Far too fast for him to subdue, bubbling apprehension rose into his chest again as a presence beneath his ribcage scolded him for not ripping the notes to shreds when he had the chance and Mumbo turned away from Iskall in shame. He didn’t even notice himself staring off into the corner of his room until the scratching of a feather pen against paper got his attention again.

[I was hoping you would say that. Wouldn't be Architech patent-worthy without your approval :) ]

Mumbo gave a half-hearted as smile his dear friend stored the notes away in a light blue shulker box he hadn’t seen get brought out. As Iskall packed the box up, a red hot silence burned within the room and Mumbo flushed at the uneasiness of it all, hating the fact that he couldn’t enjoy the company of the people he loved anymore. It made him feel like an ass when he was so unresponsive and caught up in self-pity, but at the same time it felt like acting as if nothing ever happened would be a slap in the face to everyone he wronged. He was halfway through a mental reprimand when Iskall huffed through his nose and came to sit beside him at his birch wood table.

A beat or two passed in silence before a steady hand reached out to fix the uneven part in Mumbo’s hair, smooth out the collar of his dress shirt, and pat him gently on the side of his face. The warmth of Iskall’s hand damn nearly drove Mumbo to tears. With cloudy eyes, he watched as Iskall tilted his head, expression a melancholy mix of fondness and sorrow.

[It’s bad today, huh?]

With a sharp intake of breath and clenched teeth, Mumbo glanced away from Iskall. He’d rather pretend he was fine than admit to the Red Sun’s influence holding strong sway over him today. But before he could come up with something to say, Iskall was already shoving his book back into Mumbo’s hands.

[Don’t try to lie to me, I can see it in your face. And in the stubble on your chin.]

“I…“ Mumbo started, cotton-mouthed and ashamed, closing his eyes to prevent the tears from glossing over his vision.

Sweet scarlet whispers pricked at the back of his head and swirled behind his eyelids, reminding him the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets the Red Sun never sets, and he tensed his jaw to try and drown out the words with a high-pitched strain. The world around him grew warm and tight and dark, and despite his best efforts, the voices seemed to just get louder.

All at once, Mumbo realized that Iskall was pushing at his shoulders and letting out determined, wordless noises as he tried to bring the man from his panic. Mumbo brought down his hands from where he found them pressed firmly against his ears, noticing that his face felt warm and wet. He silently wiped at his cheeks with his sleeve, defeated.

“...Yeah. It is.”

“I-I...It’ss oh-k-kay.” Iskall offered gently, releasing his hold from his friend’s shoulders and sliding them down to his arms as he scanned Mumbo for any more signs of distress. As soon as his hands were free, he reached for his book again.

[It’s a nice day out today. Let’s go for a walk. I’ll shoot Grian a message to meet us in the shopping district.]

Before Mumbo could begin to read, Iskall plucked the book from his hand and began writing frantically, leaving Mumbo to wipe at the heavy tears that pooled over the edge of his eyelids once again.

[Let’s not tell him about my plans yet. I don’t want to get him excited for something that could take months or more to even start on. Promise to keep it a secret for now?]

Mumbo couldn’t help but flash him a warm smile. This man has done so much for both him and Grian even in wake of his own obstacles and responsibilities. There was nothing in this world or the next that Mumbo could offer as retribution.

“Sure thing. You have my word.”

Iskall huffed a laugh, grabbing and immediately shaking Mumbo’s hand with unnecessary earnest.

[Jolly good cheers mate! Let’s get you ready for our stroll, shall we lad? Pip pip!]

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Mumbo stood from where he’d been sat since early that morning, bones audibly popping from inactivity, and made towards his room to change into a clean white button-up and dress pants, leaving his coat on the bed. It took him a moment to brave the mirror in the corner of his room, but once he could stand to look at his reflection, he made an honest attempt to make himself presentable. After smoothing out the folds and wrinkles in his shirt, Mumbo pulled at his mustache a few times in an attempt to style it, lamenting that he didn’t have the time to shave the shadow from his jaw.

There was a soft, gentle hum from Iskall that got Mumbo’s attention as he exited his room, and he walked closer to read what his friend was saying.

[Handsome.]

Bashful, Mumbo blushed and shut the book. Compliments always made him somewhat embarrassed before, but it hit him much harder nowadays, especially when he felt bad about not being able to clean up as much as he preferred. Despite his self-consciousness, Mumbo was grateful for Iskall’s encouragement and offered a small smile in thanks.

As he and Iskall locked up his house and began the journey towards the shopping district, Mumbo watched him message Grian and shake with silent laughter―probably at something stupid Grian responded with, knowing them, but he was too engrossed in thought to catch what was said―and noticed that for the first time in a while that he couldn’t hear the honeyed song of the Red Sun, nor could he feel its pull deep within his bones.

Truly, Iskall and Grian were gifts from the universe he didn’t deserve. It was a bloody wonder that they still stood by him after all they went through. Despite everything, his friends still cared for him. Still loved him. There was nothing he could do to repay them for that. And nothing could compare to the outpour of adoration he felt for them in return.

--------------------------------------------

On days like these, with his best friends at his sides, Mumbo felt free.

#the red sun never sets #trsns #mumbo jumbo #mumbo #iskall85 #iskall #grian #grian and mumbo and iskall #architech trio #hermitcraft #I am likely to and probably will be looking for errors so Blease let me know if u see any

121 notes · View notes

wingardium-letmefuckyou · 5 years

Text

Agate (part 11)

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: When you were kidnapped and experimented on you never thought you would see the daylight again. But your family refuses to give you up. When you later find yourself safe but with unstable powers, you find comfort in someone not so unlike you. He refuses to give up on you either.

Word count: 1088

Warnings: none

A/N: Finally, after many months, I have found the courage, energy and inspiration to write again. This might be a short chapter but it’s a big step for me. As most of you know, I went through (and am still going through) a very rough period in my life. I went to a period of mourning and dealing with PTSD, I still am. But the sun shines again and life ain’t all bad. So, even if no one is still interested in reading this, I still want to finish this story, cause it is something I have to do, for myself. Thank you to everyone to stick around. Hugs and lots of love. PS: some of the tags don’t exist anymore, let me know when you have changed your username and you want to be tagged again. Or if you’re not on the taglist yet and you want to be.

Masterlist

Metaphysically, Agate has a lower intensity and vibrates to a slower frequency than other stones, but is highly regarded as a stabilizing and strengthening influence. [Simmons, 6] The layered bands of microscopic quartz in Agate may appear delicate, they are actually very strong. Agate is excellent for balancing emotional, physical and intellectual energy, and in harmonizing the positive and negative forces of the universe. [Hall, 39]

Agate promotes inner stability, composure, and maturity. Its warm, protective properties encourage security and self-confidence

(Source: https://www.crystalvaults.com/crystal-encyclopedia/agate)

A soft knock on the door wakes you up from your peaceful slumber. You try to ignore it, too comfortable and sleepy to get away from your safe haven but the person on the other side seems quite persistent. You gently shove Bucky’s arm aside so you can climb out of bed to open the door, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. You don’t want the mysterious knocker to wake up Bucky. He is still sound asleep, his breathing soft and relaxed. It surprises you to see Wanda, you had been expecting Shuri or maybe Steve. Her eyes are cast down, almost as if she’s too shy to look straight at you. While you may look like you just got out of bed, she looks like she never got into hers.

“Y/N, can we talk for a moment?”

For a split second you consider to slam the door in her face. After what she did to you yesterday, it’s hard to look at her with sympathy. If it hadn’t been for Shuri and Bucky you’d probably be hiding somewhere now, still shaken up by what she planted in your brain. But instead of sending her away,you sigh deeply and you nod, whatever she has to say might be worth hearing. An explanation of some sorts might be nice. “Let me get a sweater first,” you say and you disappear in your closet. You want to grasp the warmth that has settled in your body for a while longer. Your hand grabs for the oversized, black hoodie. The one that smells unmistakable like Bucky. It’s just because it comfortable, you tell yourself, no other reason. You are definitely not ignoring all the other stylish sweaters Shuri provided for you.

Wanda and you walk in silence, heading for the kitchen. A cup of coffee can only improve the conversation to come. Besides, you need to give your brain that last little nudge it needs to wake up and start functioning properly. The other woman seems nervous, fiddling with a strand of her long hair. She doesn’t start talking while you brew a cup of your favourite drink, leaving an awkward silence hanging between the both of you. You sigh again, turning around to face her, cradling the steaming mug between your hands.

“Spill the beans, Wanda.” you urge, your patience wearing thin. You could still be in bed, wrapped around an incredibly warm and huggable super soldier. No cup of coffee could ever replace that, so she’d better start talking soon.

“I want to apologize. I did not mean to make you see what you did. All I wanted was to give your brain a nudge, but something went wrong” Her voice is soft, careful. If you didn’t know better you might think she sounds afraid of you. As if you would ever harm anyone on purpose, let alone that you knew how. There had never been much violence inside of you, your sister always being to one to beat up bullies or shout at rude people for you.

“But I did see it, even if you didn’t mean it. You were inside my brain, you showed me horrible things. Can you explain how that happened?” You’re not planning on letting her getting away that easily. Did she really expect that she could manipulate your mind like that and get away with a simple apology? One side of you wants to let it go but the other is still too shaken up. “I… I lost control.” It is difficult for her to admit it, she hasn’t lost control in a long time. Her powers are her own, part of her and they obey to her will. Yet yesterday, they didn’t, for the first time in a very long time. It makes her feel weak and small, scared even.

“You lost control…” The statement sounds ridiculous to you, Wanda was supposed to be your teacher, the one to learn you how to be IN control. She was a heroine, the Scarlet Witch. “Listen, Wanda. I get that you hate me, for some reason I haven’t figured out yet. But just go home then, instead of traumatizing me. You don’t have to teach me.” Wanda’s head snaps up and for the first time she doesn’t look nervous. She looks insulted. “I don’t hate you.” “Then, what…?” You thought of the cold looks she gave you, the way she ignored you. Did you interpret all of it wrong? “I thought you hated me,” Wanda explains “That is how I lost control, I was so nervous. I wanted to reach out for you with my powers. And then everything went wrong.”

You are completely baffled by her statement, opening and closing your mouth. Words ain’t coming, so you figure you must look like some retarded fish. Apparently you did interpret her behavior wrongly. You remember her telling you that her powers are fueled by emotions. So if she really was nervous… But it makes no sense. “Wh-why would I hate you?” you finally manage to ask. You barely knew her, you’d never hate anyone you hadn’t had the chance to get to know. “Y/N,” Wanda’s voice is gentle, guilt is written all over her face, “The serum. Your unstable powers. It’s all me, it’s my blood they used. Surely, you must resent me for that? My existence helped them make you into what you are.”

Wanda is surprised when you start laughing, the guilty look on her face fading away into confusion. You finally see how you had misunderstood one another. It’s ridiculous now that you can see it all clearly. “Wanda, unless you were the one that injected me, there’s no way I could hate you for this. I don’t blame you at all.” You smile at her, a genuine and warm smile. Somehow, your heart has decided that she is forgiven. Life is too short to hold grudges.

When Bucky enters the room he is welcomed by a sight he did expected to see. You and Wanda, preparing breakfast side by side, chattering amicably. He is secretly pleased to see you in his sweater, though he wouldn’t admit that to anyone. What confuses him most is Wanda’s presence and the way the two of you seem comfortable around each other. The look he sends you is full of questions, your answer just a shrug. There is enough time to explain after breakfast. Right now, you just want to enjoy your eggs and bacon, accompanied by two friends.

Taglist: @lavieenlex @babymorganna @fandomtime-123 @blueswedebeatbox @shamelessbookaddict @libbymouse @eyesofgoldenambers @moni-poloni @super-witty-fandom-girl @lkcarts @micolegg @in-the-potterhead-know @thegirlwiththepurpleguitar

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #fanfiction #reader insert #agate #wingardium-letmefuckyou writes

6 notes · View notes

yuri-cocaine · 7 years

Note

7. How often do you see that?

The coachman flipped through his handbook, sweating bullets. It was only Wednesday. He didn’t need this.

“Aha!” he said triumphantly and jabbed a freckly finger at a page. “It says here, deliveries cannot weigh over three ponzes unless it comes with a permit! Ain’t got a permit, lass.”

“Yes, I do,” said the stowaway, a girl in a grubby white robe and cheap leather shoes with the soles falling off. She handed the coachman a piece of paper.

“But this just says, ‘I can do what I want.’”

“Therefore, a permit.”

She glared daggers. The coachman, a shorter than average Lalafellin man who had always been nervous of anything taller than him that wasn’t a chocobo, gulped and looked back at his handbook. Deliveries to Gridania were supposed to be relatively safe jobs, but he knew, oh he knew, it was only a matter of time before the Twelveswood and its grim forest folk gave him trouble. He expected wildlings, voidsent, Duskwight bandits, and he had hired adventurers to keep the road ahead clear for him. He never expected trouble to sneak into his mail cart for a ride to Ul’dah.

Aisling snatched the handbook out of his hands and tore the pages out. The coachman yelped in fright and tried to call his adventurers to his side, but then he remembered he only paid them to escort him as far as the South Shroud before they disappeared for the nearest pub.

“L-look here, how about this? I bring you to Highbridge, so no trouble, eh? Please, miss, I got three and a half children to feed!”

Aisling knew that people were complex in their emotions and personalities and desires, but no amount of stories she had read with fictional societies could prepare her for interacting with actual people. It would be so easy to just force this man to give her what she wanted, which was a free lift to Ul’dah, and then maybe even some food, new clothes, and paying for the order she was going to put down at the Alchemist’s Guild. But the coachman was just a regular person doing his work, he had a family to support, and he seemed to be high-strung already from stress that Aisling had no idea about.

She agreed and got off at Highbridge just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Aisling leaned against the railing and gasped at the sight of a deep violet sky splashed with the brightest magenta and scarlet where the sun had been. The first stars glittered, and the gibbous moon was the coldest shade of blue-white.

But the most wondrous of all was the towering crystal formation she had spotted en route to Highbridge. Great crystal claws reaching upwards, golden-orange during the day, began to glow as darkness fell. The crystals lit up, burning scintillant and fiery, as if they were embers in the greatest lantern in the world. Aisling gripped the railing as hard as she could so she wouldn’t fall over the edge in amazement. The towering crystals lighting up by themselves against the velveteen darkness of a twilight sky...she wondered if she could ever see such a sight again, and she wondered if the world held even more sights such as this.

Aisling stayed at Highbridge for the rest of the week. The settlement needed defense against constant beastmen raids, and the Brass Blades stationed there were more than welcome to hire Aisling as an adventurer who could help them. The pay was meager, but they fed her and gave her clean used clothes to replace her fraying old ones. It was somewhat strange that Aisling preferred to stay outside as much as possible, even choosing to sleep in the rain and relieve herself in the bushes if it meant she could be out. The captain, a easygoing man who believed himself to be popular with women, asked her where she had come from. Aisling spun a tale about fleeing a homeland ravaged by war, and how her dear mother was working as a housemaid for a wealthy Gridanian lord, but her poor father was ill and now she needed money to buy the rare potion he must have from the Alchemist’s Guild in Ul’dah. Like everyone else she had lied to about her past, the captain seemed to lap it up.

Finally, she couldn’t contain her fascination with the Burning Wall any longer. Aisling set off for the Burgundy Falls at noon on her last day at Highbridge, where there was a cave that led into the heart of the crystalline growths. When she sat down to dip her feet into the Yugr’am and take her pills for the day, a miner waved at her for attention.

“These hills are a candy shop, and me a child with a sweet tooth and pickaxe!” said the miner. “Except there’s been an issue with the mirrorknights loitering around the Burning Wall, and I can’t harvest crystals with them breathing down me back. Here, I can pay you four hundred gil if you could cull a few of them for me, and take a few of them quartz doblyns back too so I can get my clear crystals for the day.”

“Make it four hundred fifty and I will go,” said Aisling.

The Burning Wall was spectacular from afar, but inside of it was a place of awe. Aisling looked about, struck with wonder. Crystals jutted from every surface, bloomed even on the surface of the Yugr’am River coursing through, and laced the veins of trees and succulents and the soil. Curiously, the largest crystal spires had some manner of machinery embedded within them that reminded Aisling of ancient Allagan technology. Waterfalls roared, covering the winding path Aisling followed down to the riverside with a soft, golden mist.

For a long time she sat by the river, listening to the waterfalls and watching the sun gleam on the crystals. It was a perfect day.

“How often do you see this?” asked Aisling as she returned to the miner with an armful of doblyn corpses.

“Why, every day, of course!” said the miner. “These hills are ripe to mine for years! You got rid of them mirrorknights too, right? Much obliged, adventurer!”

Aisling continued on her way. The miner at Burgundy Falls and the Brass Blades at Highbridge saw the Burning Wall glow every day. It was a silly wish, but she wished she could be that miner, or one of those Brass Blades, or even a mirrorknight lurking in the crystals. She wished she could say with certainty that she could see such a sight every day, and she could continue to be here to see it for years to come. That would be such a nice thing to be.

#my writing #aisling #wishingformemoria

1 note · View note