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normal-sea-urchin · 5 months

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Casey Jones Fucking Dies: Chapter 3

i have already started on chapter 4, W my brain for actually giving me the motivation and focus to do this. also @builtlikeastickofcelery

It had been about four weeks since the... incident. Raphael was sitting in the kitchen in the lair, drinking coffee. It was around 2 A.M. and his brothers and father had yet to wake up; so he sat at the table staring at his reflection in the dark coffee. In all honesty, he was doing more thinking than drinking. He was thinking about how April had been friends with Casey. Casey who he had killed. He was thinking about how he could never tell his family. How disappointed and disgusted they would be.

"Is something troubling you my son?" the turtle's father asked, walking out of the shadows, startling Raph.

"Aah! Uh, no Sensei, I'm okay." Raph replied, lying through his teeth, hoping the eyebags on his face wouldn't rat him out. He hadn't been getting great sleep after the whole situation with that Casey Jones kid. Even if he tried, his nightmares wouldn't let him sleep uninterrupted for very long.

"Are you sure, my son?" the rat questioned, glancing down at Raph's eyebags.

Crap. Looks like there really wasn't any hiding his lack of sleep. "Well Sensei, I guess..." Raph trailed off, trying to piece together a lie that would sound convincing to Splinter. "I guess I just feel bad for April, she's taken this death so hard." Raph lied.

"Hmmm," his father hummed, "so that is what ails you. Do not worry Raphael, April is very strong. It will take time for her to come to terms with her friend's death, but she will push through."

"Mm, thanks Sensei." Raph said, taking that speech as his cue to leave.

_______________________

And while April mourning her friend definitely made Raph feel guiltier, he had noticed some other strange happenings in this four week period. Nothing super weird, at first it was just his action figures falling over, or a particularly cold gust of wind blowing past him during patrol.

Raphael's things started to simply, go missing as well. A sai couldn't be found right before training sessions, or his drumsticks got misplaced. Nothing too bizarre, but misplacing things was a bit out of character for the red-masked turtle. Maybe it was all a prank by Mikey, the big question was how he got into Raph's room.

Either way, pick your poison. It wasn't too much of an inconvenience. Until the occurrences got more...peculiar. It wasn't until one day while he and his brothers were walking through the sewers, setting up security cameras for Donnie.

It was all going well, nothing weird, nothing strange. Raph was setting up a camera in one of the sewer tunnels. Further down the tunnel was his younger brother, Mikey. The red-masked turtle was attaching one of Donnie's security cams to the mossy walls of the sewer, setting it up in the corner. After turning it on he turned behind him to grab another from the bag Donnie gave them.

The only problem was the fact that the bag wasn't behind him anymore. He looked over towards Mikey who was still fidgeting with the camera from before, but it also didn't look like he had the bag. He turned to his left, down a different sewer tunnel, where he found the brown satchel.

"Huh, weird." the turtle muttered to himself. he found it a bit strange that the bag had moved seemingly on its own, but then again, he'd been having strange things happen for the past few weeks. He walked over to pick up the bag, but for whatever reason, he decided to look up at the tunnel before reaching for the satchel. The tunnel seemed much, much, longer than it should. He couldn't seem to pull his vision away from the end of the tunnel, or at least where the end should be. In its place seemed to be a white haze, with a bit of a green glow surrounding it.

It was during this state of paralysis that the turtle heard something calling him, if you could call it that. Whatever was calling him wasn't exactly a voice, but something wanted him to walk down the tunnel, past the bag full of cameras that he was looking for only a minute ago. His legs began to move on their own, which could now be considered a habit of theirs. He put one foot in front of the other, walking deeper into the tunnel, following the sense calling him there.

"Uhhh? Brochacho?" Mikey interrupted, shocking Raph out of his state. Raph snapped his neck around to face his younger brother, now back in control of his mind and body. "You ok man? You seem kinda out of it dude." Mikey remarked.

"Ugh, I'm fine, Mikey!" Raph lashed out, trying to cover the slight fear in his voice from the previous experience. "Let's just put the rest of these cameras up." he growled. As he turned around to pick up the bag he glanced up to get a second look at the sewer tunnel. Now, instead of the white haze with a greenish glow, there was the usual darkness. He grabbed the bag the turned back to face his younger brother, speed-walking out of the tunnel and past his younger brother.

_______________________

After that experience, Raph decided to stick around his brothers more often, hoping that would prevent anything like that from happening again. He hoped that they wouldn't notice, ever since the teenager was found dead how he lashed out less, how he tried to pull his punches, how he went out of his way to be mean less. But with all the time he now spent around them, he began to figured they would eventually notice. Unfortunately for raph, not every waking moment could be spent with his brothers.

But it was just a shower, nothing too bad could happen a shower, as long as he kept it short, right? 'Just keep it short' he reminded himself stepping into the shower. But when he turned the warm water on, all his worries were washed down the drain along with the water. Guess showers really are good for your mental health, or whatever is it that Donnie was saying earlier that day.

It was so warm in the shower that Raph figured that staying in it for a bit longer couldn't end too badly, nothing had happened so far. He felt the warm water run down his shell. Yeah, he could stay here a bit longer. This train of thought repeated for quite a while until Leo yelled from the other side of the door that Raph was hogging all the warm water and needed to get out of the shower. Raph begrudgingly turned off the warm water and stepped out of the shower. The cold hit him like a brick. He turned to the mirror, which was now covered in condensation. Donnie always got mad when there was condensation on the mirror after one of his brothers took a shower. Something about the water causing mold. Not wanting Donnie to yell at him, Raph took a towel and wiped the water away. After clearing most of the condensation off the mirror he was greeted with his face...and-

There was a second face. Staring back at him.

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Masterpost/Next

#tmnt #2012 tmnt #casey jones #2012 casey jones #2012 raph #raphael #casey jones fucking dies

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lazypanartist · 2 years

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*removes lid off cloche* One star-studded ROTTMNT fic, piping hot. It's platonic, but if you squint there can be romantic implications.

( "So what do you think of New York, eh?" Leonardo asked as he...proceeded to utterly stomp you in F-Zero. He lapped you at one point. His brothers were losing their minds while you were just straight up losing.

It was a brutal win.

"I mean, I think its okay," you huffed, motioning at Donnatello to take your place. "Its bigger. Busier. Transit's a nightmare sometimes, but I love it, y'know? I think its the food. I have so many options."

Raph snorted. "Is there, uh...anything you miss? From your old home?"

You went quiet for a while as you thought, and it hadn't been until Mikey called your name again that you finally replied.

"The stars. I think I miss being able to just...shut off all the house lights, and laying outside and seeing the stars...")

Mikey hadn't been able to get that conversation out of his head.

It was something small, and innocuous, but... the sheer longing in your voice as you talked about missing the night sky in the countryside... it really hit him, for some reason. He couldnt imagine not seeing the New York skyline, dotted with neons and lit windows of skyscrapers. It was all he knew, and he couldnt imagine different.

But you had. And he could hear in your voice how homesick you were.

No, no not homesick. You said it yourself, you loved your new home. You complained about there being like, three restaurants nearby and a convenience store that had inconvenient hours, plus a bunch of uppity old people. You didnt miss your old home, really. You weren't HOMEsick.

Starsick, it what he would call it.

When Mikey went to Leo about his concern, the twin had seemed to mull something over in his mind a bit.

"I mean, its just the sky. We can take them out to a high point and bring a telescope or something. Sure we might kot have the same constellations and I think they like...change? I'm sure we got dad's old one layin' around-"

"Can't. 's too bright in the city."

The two looked over at Raph, who had been reading a comic.

"Whaddaya mean, bro?" blue questioned, leaning back some and stretching his arms behind his head.

"Remember when Splinter took us when we was little? Mikey had to be...what, 5? He took us to see the stars and, other than the occasional one here an' there, and like....I think Mars and some sattelites, you can't see em. The light from the city hides em." The snapper sighed and looked over. "The skyline ain't great for stargazin."

The two more energetic brothers frowned at that before Mikey straightened up and looked towards their nerdy brother's lab.

Donnie knew stars. Donnie named them sometimes when they watched Jupiter Jim films and complained when they used certain astrophysicist terminology wrong.

Neon Leon took note of the youngest's determined look. "You want to do something special for em, huh?"

"Yeah. I mean...They're starsick."

Raph chuckled at that, gathering himself up so he could lend a hand. "Starsick, eh? Sounds pretty serious. We better see if we can't find a cure then, huh?"

At exactly 11:58 on friday night, you recieved a formal invitation to the lair from D-Man.

'Bring your softest blanket, one aaa battery, and exactly 11 oreos'

You had gotten weirder requests from your friends at later times, so this was nothing. You gathered your goods and headed over, making sure to snag some pizza and cheap chinese food on the way. Knowing the boys, they probably got their hands on a director's cut of a Jupiter Jim film, and you would be in for a long night.

However, upon your arrival, you were ushered into the lab, into an area that was...quite literally roped off from the rest. several white sheets were stapled or taped to the ceiling of the area, and as you handed off the food to Raph, Leo basically shoved you down in an area swarmed with blankets.

"Guys, what's going on? Is movie night in here, or-"

Donnie's hand was in your face.

"Triple A, please."

You blinked owlishly and handed it over.

The purple-clad ninja popped the battery into something small in his hand, a small silver tube, which he then handed to you.

"Thanks. I've always wanted exactly this. It's my favourite, how did you know?"

Donatello rolled his eyes as his brothers worked on setting stuff up behind you. "It's a laser pointer. The event we have planned is interactive, so if you shine the laser at something and draw out the shape, it'll glow. Twisting here changes the light colour, and also, it doubles as a stun grenade if you press down on the tip, shake for 10 seconds and release."

Your blank stare at the object made him roll his eyes before Mikey grabbed you and pulled you into laying between him and Raphael. The twins laid on their backs opposite of you, and before you could say anything, the lights went out and you were bathed in pitch, inky blackness.

You were about to panic, not understanding, until the sheets above you flickered briefly and began to glow with-

"Oh.../Oh/...."

Stars littered the ceiling, and as your eyes roamed the faux expanses of the night, Donatello informed you about how, this would be showing the available stars, planets, any celestial bodies you would be able to see right here in New York if the city went dark. Leonardo preened at how he had helped set up the projector area, using his 'Mad Skillz' to take care of adhering the sheets to the ceiling. Raph had remembered the times you talked about stargazing, and how you said you'd always forget to bring something warm, so he made sure every blanket in the lair was here. Mikey claimed he got their father taken care of, making sure to get him some cake and milk so he wouldnt pester you guys and how this had been his ide-

"Oh mi gosh...are you okay...?"

You didnt even look over at Mikey, stare locked upward as he rubbed a thumb along your damp cheek. You hadn't even realized you were crying.

"I-I'm so sorry, I just, you sounded like you were really starsick and you just sounded so sad that I kinda thought this would make you happy or be something nice but I didn't even think that maybe this will make you miss your old stars more and make you even MORE starsick, and-"

"That's...That's Cetus."

The orange-clad turtle blinked and turned his gaze up, not knowing what you were exactly staring at with all the dots in the little slice of sky. Raph had to gently nudge you for you to remember the laser pointer and, shakily, you drew a purple shape in the stars. The constellation you had immediately picked out shone bright, and Leo whistled low.

"Cetus, eh? What, is that the god of like...Banjo music?"

That made you snort, and you wiped your eyes.

"Cetus was the sea monster Heracles and Perseus both fought. It's like...a whale, or a massive dragon fish." Your voice went quiet for some time before you whispered that it had been the last constellation you saw.

Raph felt his heart clench. "Are there any more?"

"Tons." You laughed.

"Are there any turtles?" Leo asked.

"Not in traditional greek constellations, no. There's Ursa major and Minor, the bears, There's canis, draco, cephus-"

Your hand flicked out, yellow lines began to form along the stars, and before his eyes Mikey and his brothers were staring at a new shape.

"Whozat?"

"The black tortise."

"Oooh~! I see you know a few Chinese constellations as well! Care to show us what else you got?"

You smiled brightly, stars in your eyes.

OHHHHHH MY GOD 🥹

I HATED living in the city 😭 I live with my grandparents again, out in the country.. I don't think I'd been able to leave the stars again.

#kana's chats #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt

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sarandipitywrites · 7 months

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week 3 of spooky stories, enjoy! cw for implied past domestic abuse

I have always been here. If there is a world beyond these thin walls, this quiet cul-de-sac, I care not to know it.

You come from the outside, like the others. You come with your big white van and your little lime-green car. You tear open my blinds, fill my dark rooms with dazzling, disorienting light. Men in crisp uniforms carry in the furniture while you unload brown cardboard boxes. They don't relax. They keep their eyes open, jump at every creak and draft.

They are clever — cleverer, it seems, than you.

Most people bring their own furniture into my house, but not you. You bring new things into an old space, tarnish my wooden floors with the plastic cover from your mattress. You fill my emptiness with screwed-together particle board.

You think you are making a new life here.

You are but a footnote in this house's history.

I am patient. I watch, and I wait.

When the crisp-shirted men are leaving, I slam the door between them. The one still inside panics, until you show him that I have not locked the door.

You find it funny. An old house doing old house things, you tell the man.

He laughs and agrees, but the fear does not leave his eyes.

I give you one night's rest. It is a courtesy I extend to every intruder. It is the only courtesy I offer.

Because this is my house, and you are not welcome here.

You've been able to explain it. That has been my problem. Slamming doors, chilling drafts. The problems of an old house. Even when your wardrobe fell, you remarked that the floorboards must be crooked. Another task on your interminable list.

Not today.

A death is a messy thing. Inconvenient. I didn't always know this. It hadn't occurred to me by the time the man in the three-piece suit moved in. Nor when I hurled his own saber through his chest. I gave it not a thought until his family came. Until they started piling the kindling at my feet.

A haunted house, people will abide. But a demon house?

I can't kill you. I need a more delicate touch than that.

It takes hours — hours of watching, waiting — before you move from your seat at the table. I have been holding it up through sheer will. I am nothing if not patient.

The moment you are out of its shadow, I let go.

It is heavier than I anticipated.

The chandelier caves in the center of your cheap dining table, smashes your coffee mug. Its beads of crystal droplets scatter like rain, splinter into shards of light.

The single lightbulb that survived the crash flickers, dims, and dies.

You cry out. I think I have you, now. But then you creep towards the wreckage, examine the hole I've torn in the ceiling. Finally, you speak.

"You're right," you say to the empty room. "That thing was pretty outdated."

This is impossible. You are impossible. I don't even knock the dustpan from your hands when you begin to sweep up the debris.

What would be the point?

"I didn't just buy this house because it was cheap." You don't look up as you speak. You just keep sweeping up the mess I've made. "I know how you scare everyone away. An exorcist called me, the first night I was here. Do you remember? They said they'd give me a special rate and everything."

That would have been a waste, although I can't deny that exorcists are particularly fun to torment.

"But that's not what I want. This was your house first, right?"

It was. It is.

The beams ease from my shoulders. The floor softens beneath my feet.

This house is mine. Others have bought it, lived in it. But it has always been mine.

No one else has ever understood that.

"I'd like to stay here, as long as you'll have me. I don't mind a roommate who's a little scary."

The broom's bristles swish across the floor.

Perhaps I will not mind you, either.

I am harder to live with than you are.

You are quiet — so quiet, sometimes, that I think you must have left while I was neither here nor there. But then I find you, curled up in your armchair, reading.

You tell me things — how you can't fall asleep without a light on, how you used to love long walks in the rain. I can't share such secrets with you. All I can do is rattle my shutters and draw long, wailing gusts through the chimney. I can't tell you how I can't stand the smell of onions; I can only steal them from your cutting board and throw them at the walls.

You've stopped buying onions. I can't tell you that I appreciate it.

Until the day you come back with the cards.

You lay them on the table. They're for people who can't or don't speak, you tell me. They're hard to move — they're larger than playing cards, but still small and thin — but it's easier if you spread them out on the table first. It's easier if I just have to push the ones I want out of place.

I push the card for 'thank you,' and you smile.

We have projects, now.

The house is in disrepair. You spend many nights on your computer, looking up videos on how to fix it — the broken baseboards, the light that dims when you turn on the dishwasher, the shower knob with a centimeter's space between freezing and scalding. I think I cannot be helpful — I only slam doors, I do not re-hang them — but you find a way. You bring paint chips back home, and I help pick the color for the living room. I'm too clumsy to help you paint, but I can hold the paint can at the perfect height for you.

The house brightens and breathes new life.

Until you come back with the spackle for the new bathroom tiles. You greet me with a smile, but your skin is pale. Your hands shake.

I have seen that look many times, on many faces. For the first time, I want it to stop.

I spread my cards on the table and you, dutifully, follow.

"You upset?" Two cards.

"No! No, I'm..." You look down at my cards and bite your lip. "Okay, yeah, I am. It's not a big deal. Just... ran into someone I'd rather not." Then you tell me you're fine, even though your smile is dull and cracked, and tell me you want to finish the tiling today.

So we do.

When you're quiet at dinner, staring into your uneaten pasta, I steal the oranges from the fruit bowl and juggle them over your head.

You laugh, and call me a menace.

I notice the gun you bring home the next day, buried in your shopping bag under the wine and the birthday cake Oreos. I don't say anything, and neither do you.

We read before bed. I never told you that I can't read the tiny print, not like the large, colorful word cards, but you seem to know anyway. You always read out loud. You'll read anything (as long as the dog doesn't die at the end), but you like romantic comedies best. I like them best, too. I like the sound of your laughter, your strangled giggles and snorts as you try to push through, try to keep reading so that I'm not left in the dark.

Tonight, your voice starts strong but fades. You try to keep going, in jolts and murmurs, until your words give way to deep, steady breathing. The book falls to your chest, your head to the side.

It was a long day. Reading in bed was probably not your best idea.

I move your book to the bedside table — I have gotten better at moving such delicate things — and take the reading glasses from your face. You rolled over and crushed them, once, and we couldn't read for days, so I am careful as I set them atop our book. I shut the light and I wait. I used to go the Other Place at night, when the house fell quiet. I prefer to stay here, now. I prefer to breathe with you.

Outside, a car rumbles down the road. This is not strange; cars get lost, and use our street to find themselves.

But this car parks.

Its door slams.

And I wonder.

Through the pane, I see him leaning against the car. He pushes away, staggers towards the house.

By the third pound on the door, you are awake. You slip out of the bed and tiptoe to the window, peer through the curtain.

Your heart stutters, stops, starts again.

He starts to yell. He calls a name — your name — through the door. He knows you're here. He's found out where you've gone.

He's sorry. Things will never be that way again.

Come home, he says.

Come home.

Tears well in your eyes, crystalline terror. You don't want to go with him, you whisper to the air, to me. You don't want anything to do with him, ever again.

My frame and boards rattle and shudder. He's kicking the door now. He is no longer pleading. He'll have you, even if he has to drag you home. He'll have you, even if he has to burn this whole fucking house down.

The door is old and splintered. The paint has chipped away under his loafer.

We haven't replaced it yet. It will not hold.

I pull the gun from beneath the bed — I wish I could have pretended with you forever — and I press it into your hand. You choke on a sob, but you nod.

The sole of his shoe bursts through the door, beneath the handle. Soft leather, scuffed and torn and ruined. His hand follows, sleeve snagging on splintered wood as he fumbles for the handle.

I open the drawers and I gather it all — forks and knives, skewers and pokers, the fire extinguisher and the bent chandelier you never took to the junk yard, but not the books. You love the books.

I gather them all. They swirl in the living room, a cyclone of sharpness and rage.

The handle turns.

The door creaks open.

This is what I was meant for.

This is our house, and he is not welcome here.

#writeblr #my writing #short story #halloween #ghost #haunted house #creative writing #fiction #home is where the haunt is

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undercoverwu · 2 years

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Rise of the TMNT Masterlist

vv Incorrect Quotes, Stories vv

Other Lists !!! (including reblog list)

heads up, some of these titles are wacky bc i’m running out of creative names lmao

⭐️ = my favorites :)

short stories

incorrect quotes but long and they are told in a story-like fashion therefore i call it a story :]

Leo’s Names for a Sad Villain Team ⭐️

Leo Is Dying Part I ⭐️

incorrect quotes

1 Leo Roof Jumping

Leo Apologizes (Movie Spoilers) ⭐️

The Creased Brow

How possible?

Raph’s Idea

Only One is True

Sentence Game

Nothing like

Of Course I Have Pt 1

10 Donnie’s Favorite Word

Dr. Feelings and Pizza

Put Him Down!! ⭐️

Compass

Just Go!

Where’s Leo?

Bad Cake / It’s That Bad ⭐️

That Rhymed

Someone’s Grumpy

Raph’s Jacket

20 Lightning Inconvenience ⭐️

Bitches Sneeze in Their Brother’s Food

Donnie is a Bitch

Most Beautiful Thing ⭐️

Why Are There Illegal Chemicals

Donnie Online Shopping ⭐️

How Donnie Gets Things Fast and Cheap

Ebay ⭐️

How to Cry with Donnie ⭐️

A Fork Is a Fork

30 Distraction

Donnie’s Apocalypse Plan

Lamppost

Don’t Let Them In ⭐️

Just One Free Day ⭐️

Sick Ninja Moves, Falling Off Roofs theres no real reason for the rhyme i just felt like it ⭐️

Have You Ever Felt So Sad

Out of Paint

How Does Donnie Deal with Emotion? ⭐️

Summer Work

40 Smartest Turtle

Cute Chaos

Cable Went Out

What If He Stopped Caring

My Water Bottle Is Better ⭐️

Romeo and Juliet ⭐️

Mikey Lies

When I’m Mad at You

No Way

How to Not Brag

50 Keep Track of his Brothers ⭐️

After a Mission ⭐️

Is Raph Allergic to Bread?

If He Demolishes the Planet ⭐️

If Not for Those Idiots ⭐️

Cool Gross Trick!

Slick Wig, Big Shades

Most Capable ⭐️

Camp Rock?

Dummy in Suspense

60 Underestimating ⭐️

They Have Two Dads ⭐️

Project Rodent Wrecker for Ridding Rodents Other Than Splinter

IF IT TAKES ONE MORE STEP

“Petty”

Might Be Smarter?!

Flip a Switch ⭐️

I’m *inaudible*

Bitches Get Snitches

Over and Out

70 What a Weird Day

To New Jersey

Forgotten Sudoku

Worst Enemy

It’s Just a Little Worm Guy

When Warren is Scared

Breakdown?

A Handsome Guy Sliced That Building

Haha, Uh Oh

In Short, ⭐️

80 Leo is Bored!

Omnipotent Maker ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Donnie is Merciless ⭐️

Egotistical Tendencies

Assistant Mikey

incorrect quotes - short versions

^snippets of incorrect quotes i like that i feel deserve there own post

Inconvenience

Shsh Shut Up

TMNT related but like its sorta misc

1990 Raph

So… I have a lot of favorites

#rottmnt #leo rottmnt #donnie rottmnt #mikey rottmnt #raph rottmnt #rottmnt movie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fandom

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gladerscake · 3 years

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Not So Scary

(Gally x Reader)

Requested by @magnoliabloomfield, hope this doesn’t disappoint! This is officially the longest one I’ve written so far. I think it turned out alright. Enjoy!

For only three months of being in the glade, you would say you were doing pretty well. You had found your place working with the Track-hoes, you had a few people you could happily call your friends, and after the initial shock of being put in an unfamiliar environment with no memories from before had worn off, you found the place to be less and less scary with each passing day. Even the fact that you were the only girl didn’t seem as horrifying anymore, since the boys did whatever they could to help you adjust. You were even given your own little hut, so that you could have some well-justified privacy.

All in all, your circumstances were far from the worst, and you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. That is, not counting the surplus of minor inconveniences that came along with being a glader.

“Ow!” You hissed in a moment of pain as another annoying splinter snuck its way into your finger. The shovel you had been given for work delivered you at least two every shucking day. It wasn’t a big deal, but you were positively beginning to get sick of it.

“What?” Newt raised a questioning brow in response to your noise as he worked beside you, busily trying to pull a particularly tough and thick weed out of the potatoes.

“Nothing! Just another splinter… This shovel has it out for me, I swear.” You grumbled, bringing your finger up to your mouth as Newt snickered at your reoccurring predicament.

“Aww. And here I thought you were finally becoming friends.” A heavy grunt escaped the boy as the weed, despite his best efforts, was hardly budging. With a defeated sigh, he gave up.

“Hey, I’m gonna need a machete for this, can you go grab one from Gally?”

Your eyes flashed with nervousness, the seemingly simple request making you unintentionally tense.

Gally… You couldn’t quite describe, even to yourself, how you felt about Gally. Though he never did anything to you, was never rude or posed a threat, your heart would inadvertently start pacing faster whenever he was around. That’s how you knew it wasn’t just fear. You knew you had no good reason to fear him - Gally would never hurt you, it was obvious. On the contrary, he was one of the people most dedicated to making you feel safe. Giving you your own hut had been his idea, and he’d been the one who made sure it was built as quickly as possible. He often asked you if you were okay, if anyone was bothering you, if there was anything you needed his help with. Only an idiot wouldn’t see that he was looking out for you, and you appreciated it, you truly did. Every time you did talk to him, Gally was perfectly nice and even kind of comforting to be around. You had found yourself, on more than one occasion, wanting a chance to spend more time with him, just so you could get to know him better… And yet, with his tall, muscular physique, stoic expression, deep voice that carried, and his imposing, dominating presence, you couldn’t help but feel vulnerable around him. You were as intimidated by him as you were drawn to him, and oh, what a confusing mix of emotions that was.

Newt must’ve noticed your hesitance as he promptly rolled his eyes “Come on, Y/N. It’s been three months, are you really still scared of him?”

“I’m not scared!” You retorted, unsure whether or not that was actually true “I’m fine! I’m going…”

With your best attempt at a lighthearted smile plastered on, you dug your shover into the ground before turning away and making your way over to the builders.

As you got closer, you spotted Gally, hammering a nail into what would later be a bench. His freckled face was a picture of focus, eyes squinting in concentration as he worked, and just like usual, with no good explanation at all, your pulse began quickening with every step you took towards him.

“Hey, Y/N. You need something?” Gally greeted you, promptly landing his intense gaze on your approaching form as he wiped a bead of sweat off his temple.

“Hey, Gally!” You chirped, hoping not to sound as nervous as you felt “Uh, yeah, I was wondering if you had a spare machete I could borrow? Newt sent me over to get one.”

Without any follow-up questions, Gally reached over somewhere behind him, retrieving exactly what you were looking for.

“I don’t have a spare, but here, you can have mine.” He briefly nodded to the machete, calmly handing it to you.

Normally Gally wasn’t a fan of handing out tools, mostly because shanks could be careless with them and would often just leave them laying around as soon as they were done. But with you it was different. You hadn’t done that once since you got there, you were responsible, attentive, and you didn’t need to be reminded to bring them back. It was one of the many things he appreciated about you, though he most likely would never say it out loud.

A small, tentative smile curled your lips as you reached out to take the machete from him. Your fingers brushed against his calloused ones, just for a short second, but even that was enough to send an unfamiliar tingle through your skin, heat rising to your cheeks. Whatever the feeling was, you did your best to ignore it as the tool was deposited into your hand, your arm slightly dipping with the weight of it.

“Thank you… I’ll bring it back before dinner, I promise!”

Gally nodded, and to your slight surprise, you saw a subtle grin etching the corner of his mouth.

“I know.” He said, simply, before picking up another nail and returning to his work.

You exhaled, softly, beginning to walk away while your heart raced within your chest. Only as of this second, it was definitely something other than fear… Though the exchange didn’t seem like anything special, it meant a lot to you that Gally trusted you with his tools. Not a lot of people could say the same. It was at moments like this that you almost felt silly for ever feeling intimidated by him. If only that feeling would actually stick around for longer than ten minutes…

Gally’s gaze softened, discreetly following your retreating form. The rational part of him wanted to pay no mind to the sudden rush of warmth he felt when your smaller fingers brushed over his just a minute ago, but the other part, the part he had little to no control over, was finding it impossibly difficult.

For a few weeks now, he’d been in an invisible conflict with himself. He felt highly protective of you, that much was plain and obvious. But was it solely because you were the only girl, arguably the easiest glader to hurt, so he felt like he had to look out for you, or… was it something more? Gally wasn’t sure. How could he be? He had never had to deal with anything like that before. After almost three years of facing no confusing emotions whatsoever, it felt like he was suddenly facing too many at once. He knew he wanted you to feel secure. Comfortable. At home. Around all the other guys too, of course, but… especially around him. He wanted to be your safety, wanted to be the one you would turn to if ever there was anything wrong. He was aware that three months was not nearly enough for you to trust him as completely as he wanted you to, but perhaps, with more time and a bit more effort on his part, you would get there sooner, rather than later… at least he hoped so.

~~~~~~

Over the next several days, something strange started happening.

It began on a pleasantly sunny morning. You were about to start your work day in the gardens and begrudgingly picked up your shovel, expecting it to feel as rough and hostile on your hands as usual. However, to your immediate shock, as your fingers curled around it… it felt drastically different. The shaft had been filed to perfection, all smooth and even, not a single possibility of you getting another splinter in sight. You had no clue who could’ve done it, and neither did Newt, who was the first person you asked about it. Whoever it was, you wished he would show himself soon, so that you could thank him in person…

A couple of days later, on a particularly hot afternoon, just as you were coming back from lunch, you found a jar full of delightfully cold water waiting for you by the carrots you had been assigned to take care of.

“Did you get me water?” You asked Newt, who had come back a few minutes before you did.

The blonde-haired boy merely shook his head in response “Wasn’t me, love. That was already there when I got here.”

Huh. Weird. Your second guess was Zart, but he was nowhere around, probably getting fertiliser in the deadheads. Your curiosity building, you carried on with your work…

Another couple of days had passed, and you were heading off to sleep, about to climb into your mostly comfortable, though slightly wobbly bed. You figured one of the legs had been sawed a little shorter than the others. It was a trivial nuisance, so you didn’t feel the need to ask anyone to do something about it. But then, as you began to get in, your eyes instantly widened at a most surprising discovery. It was steady. Perfectly steady. For a moment you couldn’t believe it, so you tried jostling it on purpose, and even then it didn’t budge. What the… Did someone fix it? How was that possible? You only remembered mentioning it once, very briefly, to a couple of your friends at breakfast the other morning. Was there a chance that someone else might have overheard? Who? You had so many questions and absolutely no answers. It looked like whoever had been doing all those nice things for you was trying to remain anonymous, and he was good at it, too. But why? You didn’t understand and you didn’t know how you were supposed to get closer to finding out. All you could do was hope that the truth would eventually come out on its own. He couldn’t stay hidden forever… right?

~~~~~~

“Are you sure you didn’t see anyone go into my hut yesterday?” You asked Frypan, your fingers involuntarily tapping on the countertop. His shack was a good distance away, but not too far, so there was a small chance he might’ve seen something.

Alas, to your disappointed, the Cook shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorry, Y/N. If someone did go in, I definitely missed it. I mean, it’s not like I have eyes on your door the whole dang day, you know?”

You sighed, understandingly nodding your head in response before muttering a quick ‘see you later’ and walking away.

No luck there. Oh well. You were just going to have to keep trying.

~~~~~~

“So… Found your mystery problem-solver yet?” Newt grinned at you with poorly-disguised amusement as you both stood in line for lunch later that day.

“No! It’s driving me nuts… I’ve already asked like fifteen people, and nobody had seen anything!” You quietly groaned in frustration, making your friend chuckle.

“Why does it even matter? So, somebody has decided to do a couple nice things for you and clearly doesn’t want anything in return. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your curiosity at its peak and now joined by a bubbling impatience.

“It matters to me. Someone is out there, taking the time out of his day to help me out - at the very least he deserves a ‘thank you’…”

Newt chuckled once again “Alright, fair enough. Do you have any guesses at all?”

“Not really…” You pursed your lips in thought. You could safely rule out the Runners, since they were out in the maze all day. Newt, Zart, and the other track-hoes were all constantly within your general proximity, so it couldn’t be any of them. It definitely couldn’t be Frypan, he very rarely left the kitchen unattended. As for the rest… you were stumped.

“Nope, I have genuinely no idea… Winston? Clint? Jeff? It could be anyone…”

It really should’ve crossed your mind. At least made the briefest of appearances as a thought in your head. But it didn’t.

Gally frowned, dejectedly, his eyes averting to the ground.

With your back turned, you couldn’t see him standing behind Newt, not too close, but still within earshot of your whole conversation.

Could be anyone, you said… And yet, somehow, he wasn’t even one of the options.

It wasn’t that he actively wanted you to figure it out. His intention had only been to help make your life a bit more comfortable, even if it were just the little things. Like making sure your shovel wouldn’t give you any more splinters, getting you water on a hot day, or fixing your wobbly bed. But hearing that you were looking for whoever was doing it, and he wasn’t even within the realm of possibility? It stung, as much as he didn’t want to admit it. Did you see him as someone so incapable of showing kindness? If so… Why? He didn’t recall doing or saying anything to you that would make you feel that way. All he’d ever done was try to help you. And he had been so sure you and him were getting along just fine, even if you didn’t spend too much time together. Maybe he’d got it all wrong. Maybe this whole time you had only been talking to him out of politeness and didn’t actually want anything to do with him.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Gally felt his heart plummet. So there was no hope. You didn’t see him the way he wanted you to. You didn’t think about him the way he thought about you. You didn’t trust him nearly enough, and if you ever needed help, he would be the last person you’d turn to.

With a sad huff under his breath, Gally stepped out of the line, his burly shoulders sagging as he turned to walk back to his work station. Needless to say, he was no longer in the mood to eat.

~~~~~~

Staring at the bowl of stew in your lap, you couldn’t bring yourself to take a bite. Your mind was too focused on your predicament to register being hungry.

Maybe Newt was right and you were making too big of a deal out of it. If whoever it was didn’t want to be uncovered, maybe you should drop it. As difficult as that idea sounded, you thought you might not have another choice - you were making no progress in getting closer to the truth, and fixating on it was not helpful or rational.

With an irritated grunt, you pulled yourself up from the ground, taking your untouched bowl back to the kitchen.

Frypan arched a questioning brow as you approached, eyeing your lunch “Hey, I know I’m not the best cook in the whole world, but it can’t be THAT bad!”

You released a dry chuckle, shaking your head “It’s not that, Fry. I’m just not hungry, is all. Maybe I’ll come back for it later?”

He shrugged, but nonetheless took the bowl, placing it somewhere underneath the counter for safekeeping.

“Suit yourself! Hey, do you know where Gally’s at, by any chance? It’s not like him to miss lunch...”

And then, like a lightening bolt, it hit you.

Oh dear god… Gally.

You wanted to slap yourself. It hadn’t even occurred to you! You partially knew why. Sure, Gally had shown his interest in looking out for you before, but to go so far as to start doing such sweet things for you in secret? Never in your life would you have pictured him doing that. Not to mention, with how busy he was all the time as a Keeper, you wouldn’t have imagined him finding the time for it.

Nonetheless, the longer you thought about it, the more sense it made. Gally had all the resources he needed to pull off something like that.

As a builder, he could go into anyone’s hut at any time, and it wouldn’t look suspicious, seeing as people would just assume he was there to repair something and forget about it in the next five seconds.

He was a pretty quick eater, so it was entirely possible that the other day he had finished lunch before you and the others did, giving him enough time to leave the jar of water out for you without being seen.

It was still all speculation. You still didn’t know for sure that it was him, there was nothing to confirm it, all you had were strong suspicions, nothing of undeniable substance. Yet, something from deep inside you seemed to whisper the answer. You couldn’t explain it. You could just feel it.

“Uhh… Y/N? You still with me, she-bean?”

Frypan’s voice quickly snapped you out of your musings, only one thought left in your mind.

“Yeah! No, I, uh…. I don’t know, but I was just about to go find him! So.. see ya!” You deposited a light smile before scurrying off, on your way to look for the person your hunch was directing you to.

Luckily for you, the search wasn’t long. You spotted Gally rather quickly, at the first place you thought to check.

He was leaning over his work table, his eyes on one of the messily scrawled designs for a new shack as he inspected it, closely. He didn’t seem to notice you approach him until you spoke up.

“Gally…?” Your carefully tried to get his attention while doing your best to ignore the already familiar way your heart was beginning to race.

At the sound of your voice, he looked up, only his gaze took a few seconds to actually land on you. And immediately, you were confused by what you saw.

His eyes were filled with a dullness you had never seen before, his expression blank and unreadable, which was almost never the case for Gally.

“Hey. Can I help you with something?”

And his tone… so devoid of emotion, it almost sounded like you were the last person he wanted to talk to. The thought of it sent an inexplicable pang of hurt through your heart, but you decided to brush past it. Maybe he was just having a rough day.

You weren’t quite sure how you were going to ease into what you came there for, but you were going to try. Gently, but surely.

“I just… I came here to thank you.” You said, as softly as you could, fighting the urge to avert your eyes.

It was a good thing that you didn’t look away. Otherwise you would have missed the way his jaw clenched, the corner of his mouth slightly twitching for the shortest of seconds as a hint of an emotion you didn’t recognize flashed in his eyes. This was as clear of a sign as any, wasn’t it? He knew what you were talking about.

“Thank me for what?”

You had a backup plan for that. In the event of you being wrong, you could’ve just said you were thanking him for lending you his machete the other day.

But you weren’t wrong, were you? No… The glum look in his eyes, his empty tone, his whole demeanor - it all spoke for itself. You were right. Your only mistake was not figuring it out sooner.

Swallowing your nervousness, you replied “Thank you for… everything you’ve been doing for me.”

Gally paused, his strong form tensing visibly. You expected him to deny it, to ask you what you meant, but he didn’t. The few seconds of silence felt like hours before he responded, simultaneously looking away.

“Who told you?”

You blinked in surprise. Just like that, he admitted to it? But if you finding out wasn’t the problem, then what was? Now you were even more confused than before.

“No one… I figured it out on my own.”

“No, you didn’t.”

The barely-audible accusatory note to his voice didn’t escape you as your brows furrowed.

“I did! Nobody told me anything. But as soon as I thought about it, it made sense… It probably shouldn’t have taken me this long.”

Gally huffed to himself, the sting in his heart still prominent. He wanted to believe you, but he was finding it hard to.

“Yeah… Took you a while, didn’t it?” He muttered, dejectedly, looking everywhere except at you.

His words made you stare at the builder in utter bewilderment. Wait… Was he upset that you hadn’t figured it out until now? Was it possible, that he had been actually hoping you would? You weren’t sure what to think anymore. All you knew, was that Gally being upset with you was one of the last things you wanted.

“I just thought you’d be too busy for that kind of stuff… And honestly, I didn’t think you were the type to-“

“The type to what? Care?” Gally frowned, and it was then that he finally looked at you again.

Your breath hitched at the hurt glinting in his piercing eyes, the sight of it making your heart clench.

You couldn’t believe it. It was like you were suddenly seeing a side of him you never knew was there. Gally… cared about you. Evidently more than you had been giving him credit for. All this time he’d genuinely cared about you, but you’d been too distracted by his intimidating exterior to see it. He probably thought you took him for some kind of emotionless brute, and that’s what was hurting him.

“I’m sorry…” You took a small, hesitant step towards him “I didn’t mean it like that, I promise. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Gally remained still and quiet as you got closer. However, much to your relief, you could see his features slightly softening as he drew in a deep breath. You didn’t know what was going through his mind, but you were determined to make him feel better. Not because you felt like you had to, but because you wanted to.

“But, as I was saying… Thank you. It means a lot that you would do all that for me. Even though I’m not quite sure what I did to get you to take care of me like that.” You breathed out a small chuckle at the end, and that appeared to aid in lightening the mood.

The strain pervading Gally’s muscles seemed to pull back, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. The eyes that gazed at you now were gradually beginning to regain their light, and you were truly glad for that.

Gally was, in fact, feeling a bit better. He wanted you to know that he was more than willing to take care of you, if you were to accept it. And now, it looked like he was finally getting somewhere. Maybe it wasn’t a lost cause after all.

He nodded, his gaze acquiring a growing warmth “No problem, Y/N. Happy to help.”

For a moment, the two of you stayed silent, both equally unsure what to say.

You took that moment to look at him… really look at him. The curve of his brows, the light bluish-green hue of his eyes, the faint array of freckles that dotted his sun-kissed skin, his slightly parted lips that looked so soft… The part of you that was drawn to him grew stronger, causing your cheeks to suddenly feel hotter.

Gally had never seen you looking at him like that before. With such palpable curiosity and… interest? He couldn’t help the way his own cheeks began to engulf with a pink tint and he hurried to hide it by hastily looking away.

“Well, we… probably should get back to work.” He cleared his throat, taking a step back.

He was about to walk away, when suddenly, you felt a rush bravery rising within you. You didn’t know where it was coming from, what was fuelling it, but you knew you wanted to take advantage of it while it lasted.

“Gally…!” Your voice stopped the builder from leaving as he turned back towards you.

What happened next made him freeze up, utter shock painting his features. It took him a second to realize what was happening…

Your arms had wrapped around his neck, your smaller body pressed against his as you held on to him, tightly and warmly… You were hugging him.

Gally was stunned. To say he hadn’t expected it would be the understatement of the year. His heart was pounding, he was sure you could feel it thumping against his chest, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

You momentarily forgot how to breathe. You felt Gally’s muscular body go completely rigid, and for a second you almost regretted your impulse.

However, after a few seconds, you felt him begin to relax. Slowly, he brought his arms around you, gingerly returning the hug and making your pulse quicken. You were amazed at how… nice it felt. How snug yet gentle his hold was. Being in Gally’s arms was like being wrapped up in a blanket and tucked away from the all dangers of the world.

After a few seconds, you began drawing back. You could feel the hesitance with which Gally loosened his grip, as if he didn’t really want to let go. Keeping your hands resting, delicately, on his shoulders, you looked up at him and had to fight back a giggle at the burgeoning red on his cheeks. For someone so tough, in that moment he looked entirely cute.

“You missed lunch…” You pointed out, softly, a coy smile curving your lips.

Gally shrugged, still getting over the shock of your hug. And how much he liked it… which was way more than he had planned to.

“Wasn’t hungry, I guess.”

You tentatively met his eyes, a tempting suggestion popping into your head.

“Would you like to go have lunch now?…With me?”

The builder’s mouth quirked with that charming, boyish grin of his. You had seen it so rarely before, but at the back of your mind, you always thought he looked rather handsome with it.

“Careful, Y/N. You spend more time with me - you might start getting attached.”

You let out a lighthearted chuckle at that, the playful glint in his eyes assuring you that he was merely joking. Then again, if you were to start ‘getting attached’ to anyone… Gally would definitely be far from the worst choice. Your heart seemed to agree as it skipped in delight at the idea.

With a grin to match his own, you stepped back, nodding for him to follow you.

“I’ll try to control myself.”

Or not.

Tags: @spider-lonesome @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @magnoliabloomfield @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @anniemylennox @gallysonegoodlung @joemomma2121 @lattsgocaps @sherbertscarrothead-2 @lullabaesstuff @crazysheeplyca

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally imagine #gally x fem!reader #gally x y/n #gladers #tmr #gally tmr #gally x you #tmr imagine #tmr gally imagine #gally fanfic #will poulter #gally

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kazeofthemagun · 2 years

Text

Immortals and Accidents

Continued from [ X ]

Sure enough; There she was, yelling his way - a crunching sound of tiny footsteps rapidly closing distance as the vibrant-eyed kid changed her mind, suddenly unwilling to stay the night alone in alien woods. Black Wind did not turn to face her, though his own pace slowed somewhat to accommodate the much smaller girl. Whether the subtle shift was subconscious or in fact wholly on purpose; At least now she had less to complain about. If there was anything he knew about children, it was the fact they could get quite vocal about inconveniences.

...And with how sassy this one was, he had little doubt she would speak her mind. Repeatedly. The awkward half-jogging behind him slowed into something more resembling a walk. If they were to travel to the nearest Comodeen compound from here, a steady pace both parties could keep up with was more optimal.

Moreover - he was not looking to lose her by walking too fast. If he had actually wanted to evade her, he would hardly have offered to escort her in the first place.

The gunmage's sharp blue eyes scanned ahead, ever alert as the woods seemed to fall almost deathly quiet. Oh, he could read nature quite well after all these years, and the abrupt switch from ambient noise to eerie stillness did not bode well. The presence in the depths of the forest seemed to move closer, inching its way towards them. It was still far away, and thus, he could not yet get a better read on its energy. A sense of unease stirred in his gut, an early warning of danger. He could confirm it now - yes, they were being followed.

Kaze kept his concern to himself, safe behind a mask of stone. As long as she was with him, the girl was safe. There was no need for additional anxiety for her. Not until he could figure out just what felt so off about the stalking creature. His shotgun hand - the only hand with any form of feeling, anyway - it was tingling something vicious. The shadows grew longer.

"Stop."

An abrupt command, issued in a gruff tone as the Hunter finally turned around, hawk's sights set on the gloom of distant foliage. A distinct pause; Nothing about the man clad in black moving, once again a statue as though carved of obsidian. Uncanny. He could feel it clearly, now - that presence.

It was getting closer. Fast. Soundless.

The roars from before were but a memory but he knew the exact moment it went for the killing charge. The girl...

"Behind a tree. Now!" The Wind snapped in her direction, his body a shield against whatever was about to burst out from between the trees. A swift motion unholstered the crimson shape of Orthrus and shoved the young one aside, a rough prompt to run for cover. There was tension as he stood; His form strung like a bow, ready to intercept. Long seconds passed, drawn out by anticipation, a finger set perfectly calm on the trigger. Awaiting, unflinching, like more of a machine than a man.

Perhaps he was.

CRASH.

There was little warning as thick bramble suddenly parted, wood splinters surging forward like a frag grenade with a blur of night-black fur. Definitely not your regular bear.

And the Hunter was waiting. His weapon barked once; A bullet shredding the right side of the beast's face, but its assault was far from diverted. The sheer momentum of its lunge carried it forward, claws outstretched - and the Windarian before it failed to dodge, or rather - had he even been planning to move in the first place?

There was a sickening crunch of bone shattering, and the summoner's high collar briefly revealed gritted, predatory teeth. A challenge issued in bared fangs as the beast's own knifelike canines snapped on the impenetrable shell of the Magun, now revealed. The weight of jaws clasping shut over his metal arm and the girth of bulging flesh wrestling against his own unnatural strength saw the Wind Warrior's form slide backwards considerably, heavy combat boots digging trenches in the dirt. Tracks that hit an abrupt halt as Kaze's back met the trunk of a tree, crimson blood from the creature's mouth spraying freely onto tan skin and dark fabric.

Before the beast could make any move to eviscerate its foe in retaliation, the muzzle of Orthrus pressed firmly against the underside of its neck.

Another high-caliber blast was all it took as the creature sprang upright, front paws seeming to clutch at the gaping hole in its throat before the few strands of flesh still remaining caved under the weight of its skull, sending the half-decapitated corpse crashing heavy onto the forest floor.

The gunmage let out a longer breath as he dismissed the aching of his body, crouching to inspect the now lifeless beast. Where its torso and appendages were reminiscent of a bear's, its head was utterly wrong. Four eyed; Halfway a wolf, halfway an insect, with one remaining mandible still hanging open from a blood-drenched maw. But, most importantly...

The golden-rimmed sigil of a green and red eye, grafted into the very center of its forehead.

"Gaudium." The Hunter sounded, venom in the low rumble of his tone. Of course it was. He could feel more souls, an approaching wave with an ill intent clear as day. Yes, the sigil hardly lied. A tracking beast and an entire combat squad, likely once again attempting to try their luck against him. Or, perhaps...

...Following her.

That brat was special, he could tell from the very first moment he laid his eyes on her. The Gaudium Remnant might have already noticed her peculiar qualities. He hardly knew her story in Wonderland so far, and chances were she would lie about it anyway - still, there was no way he was allowing those cultists to have her. Or, worse yet -

- Chaos itself to set its claws upon her. As long as she was already here, with him, he would protect her.

Kaze stood back up and surveyed their surroundings, mapping the area in his head. There was enough cover for the girl, and should the need arise - she could weave through the thick of the woods and lose pursuit while he covered her. It all depended on who the group was after - if it was him, it would be best if they were not aware she was even here. Chances were it was yet another folly attempt to slay the Destroyer; And the child hardly needed to be involved in his messes.

A quick side-glare, and another gruff command, gloved hand motioning towards a hole in a nearby slope. Someone was really in a mood for orders. "Stay hidden. Don't run unless I say so."

Staying close to him and out of sight was her best bet now. Especially since he could sense the newer signatures near at a rapid pace. Almost like this very place had been a trap all along. The beast's faraway roars... had they been deliberately hounding them down this path? Right into a meticulously planned ambush? How did they know? Kaze's gaze narrowed, and yet there was no trace of anxiety about his form, no anything. There was only that eerie, emotionless stare, pointed somewhere in the distance. The hunt was hardly done, but who was the prey, really?

The summoner bent down, one boot digging into a mangled neck; Seizing the creature's remaining mandible before pulling, hard. The monstrous head came off with medium effort, and he lifted it not unlike one would a bag of groceries. For a moment, he looked almost morbidly comical. And yet, the bloody slab in his hand would soon make for a formidable bludgeoning weapon.

Several pairs of footsteps encircled the site of the slaughter only to find a disembodied head suddenly hurled in their direction - knocking down a green and red clad man who had come too close. The momentary panic was all the cue Black Wind needed to quick-draw and start shooting yet again, managing to take down two hapless pursuers before fire was returned. Bows, arrows, primitive firearms and slinging of magic; The scene devolved into complete chaos (as if it wasn't chaos already) yelling and gunfire tearing the silence in an ungodly cacophony. What appeared to be acid projectiles splattered on the floor, corrosive bile ejected by some being who appeared as a twisted crossbreed of a snake and porcupine. The Gaudium Remnant group was large, comprised of two dozens or perhaps more; Black Wind had little time to count. He fired several more rounds, taking down a few men and creatures before he turned sharply around, sliding behind a large tree. Golden shells made their way into Orthrus' emptied chamber, the hollering from the enemy side only intensifying.

Demon. The gold-armed Destroyer. Gun Devil. Titles he had lived up to over and over again. And his name - Black Wind. The truth behind the guise of the Hunter.

"Kill him! Kill the Black Wind!" A fanatical roar. It was lunacy to hunt the Hunter, and yet the oathsworn of the late Earl were just that and worse yet. "Bring the Demon Gun as a trophy!"

At least he knew now he was the prize. Good, let them try and fail as they always had.

By the time his sidearm was reloaded and another member of the Remnant fell in tatters, he knew the bloodshed would be shared. He could sense his counterpart had heard him and was near now - along with another soul in tow. Good. It would be best to make quick work of this mess without having to level the entire forest. Hey, now, he had learned some restraint.

These common fools? Soon they would all be dead like the beast carcass that bloodied dried leaves. They were not worthy to witness the Magun's power - and neither were they of the girl.

It was his duty, after all, to slaughter Chaos and all those who followed its wicked designs.

-> @shiroi---kumo

#this got v long #thankfully tumblr does that auto hide parts of long posts now or else Id have to put a readmore and thatd mess with the thread cutter #angcrmanagcmcnt #[[The Revived Girl ║ Anger the Irritable #[[Immortals and Accidents #[[ARC: Amestris No More #[[He's a mystery. A destroyer. A man with a single-minded mission - Main Verse~#blood tw #gore tw

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starfinss · 3 years

Text

Safe — Kamado Tanjirou

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Summary: After getting separated from your friends on a mission, Tanjirou comes to your rescue.

Pairing: Kamado Tanjirou x Reader

Rating: Fluff, hurt/comfort (SFW)

Word Count: 2,373

______________________________

It was cold, the chill permeating through your haori and uniform, and you shivered as you walked alone, katana drawn, puddles formed by rainwater from the earlier shower splashing under your zori. You could feel your tabi getting unpleasantly wet, and you wished for a moment you’d worn boots, or something more to protect your feet.

This was a mess.

You and your companions had been assigned the task of finding and eradicating the demons that inhabited an abandoned town in the middle of a forest. The forest was on the edge of another small town, one which was rapidly growing, so people tended to get lost there. This had never been more than an inconvenience at first; people would vanish, the town would send out a search party, and the missing person would be found usually to too far from the path they strayed from.

Until it got more complicated, and people stayed gone, no matter how many people went looking for them. The locals knew of the abandoned village, it used to be quite nice. But the people living there suddenly left, and the village was left alone for years. A few people went to investigate it, only one came back. A man, who told the townspeople of the horrors that lurked behind the village gates.

Enter Tanjirou and company.

You and the others arrived together, had some onigiri, and separated into pairs to fan out across the village. It really was creepy, you decided, the buildings, obviously once quite beautiful, were crumbling, the paths unkept, the wood beams holding up the houses splintering. One part of a house had completely collapsed, leaving a pile of roof tiling and torn screens. Fog seemed to hug the village, spread over it like a blanket.

And you could hear whispering. From the look Zenitsu gave you, you could tell he heard it too.

You went with Tanjirou and Nezuko while Zenitsu and Inouske paired (unwittingly) together.

The fog was dense, swallowing its surroundings in a wispy shroud. You kept your guard up as you passed the doorways to houses and small business, the cobblestones slick under your feet. It was weird that they were wet. The rain had fallen yesterday, while you and the others were staying in the village, and it was mostly dry as you made your way through the forest. Maybe things worked differently here, you reasoned. Demons inhabited this village. They never seemed to play by the rules of normalcy.

It was when you turned around to ask Tanjirou to give you some more background on the village when you found him and his sister gone, thick fog and the groaning of wood against the breeze that blustered about left in their place.

You called out, which you realized was probably a stupid thing to do, and as panic began to sink into your chest, you shoved it to the back of your mind.

Remember your training.

You were a demon slayer. You needed to keep calm. You took a slow breath, gathering yourself, drawing your nichirin form it’s sheathe to defend yourself at a moment’s notice.

Where did they go?

You didn’t like this. Demons had a way of playing with your mind. You knew they’d be looking for you. And they couldn’t have gone far. At least, you hoped so.

You began to walk, eyes darting to empty doorways and alleys between shops and houses, anywhere a demon could be hiding. But despite your scanning, you saw nothing. It was dark, the moon above you the only thing providing light, casting rakish shadows across the ground. You had to be prepared for anything.

An open doorway caught your attention, something inside the small tea shop it led to. There was a lantern lit inside, sitting on a low tea table. The table itself was decrepit and faded, but the lantern was glowing bright. You took a step forward.

This village is so strange.

Without stepping fully inside, you snatched the lantern with an outstretched hand, smiling to yourself as you cast light on your surroundings. It couldn’t be that easy.

You set the lantern on the ground by your feet, barely able to react in time as a waifish boy with stringy black hair lunged towards you with a low snarl. The lantern must have been his trap, the promise of light to whatever poor soul wandered into the village. You deflected his scrabbling hands with your blade, slicing his arms off cleanly.

He looked up at you through his hair with pitch black eyes as he scrambled back, spitting in rage and pain. In his momentary recovery, you struck, slicing his head off with a single stroke. He fell to the ground and crumbled to dust.

You picked up the lantern, thankful it didn’t end up meeting its owner’s fate, and went on your way.

Sorry lantern boy, I think I need this more than you.

You continued walking, lantern in hand, much more alert now that you had regained your vision. You now noticed that there were dead leaves littering the ground, among other things. You spotted a long, thin and pale object that you hoped was just a stick.

You knew you were probably wrong. People had died in this village, after all. You used the hook attached to the ring at the top of the lantern to fasten it to your belt, sure that you’d need a free hand eventually.

“(Y/N)!”

You started at the sound of your name being called, seemingly from very far away. You strained to see if you’d hear it again, and there it was, after a moment of silence.

You realized with a start it was Tanjirou’s voice. You took a few steps, trying to see if you’d hear it again.

When it came, it sounded off. Distorted. You froze.

“Tanjirou?!”

Your call was quiet, a half-shout, cautious. Your grip on your katana tightened. You didn’t dare call again, breath caught in your throat.

You needed to find the others. But you didn’t think that was Tanjirou.

You pointedly didn’t go in the direction of the voice as you continued walking, cursing to yourself for answering back, even if it wasn’t at a loud volume. Demons would be able to hear that.

Good thing you knew how to kill them.

But your katana was not much comfort as you continued to think about the voice. There had to be a demon in this village that could mimic voices, and imagining people hearing the voice of a loved one, hope flowering, only to run to their deaths, that filled you with dread and sorrow.

You heard the voice again, only this time, it sounded closer. Not a lot, but enough to make you nervous. You held your katana in front of your chest, ready to strike, but as you did a 360, you saw nothing.

Tanjirou, where are you?

You straightened your back as you carried on, determined to find the real Tanjirou.

Gods, you hoped he was safe. He was tough. You were sure he was. He had to be. You didn’t know what you’d do without him.

You didn’t have his uncanny sense of smell, so you couldn’t track him or Nezuko, if they hadn’t been separated, in that manner. Your ability was closest to Zenitsu, but not as strong. You were better at feeling vibrations and tremors. You could feel when someone was approaching.

You could feel quick little footsteps, which you realized was only a mouse crossing the path in front of you. It scurried away at the sight of you, disappearing back into the shadows.

You felt something bigger, something with a weight closer to your own, which made you grip your sword in the ready position, in both hands, pointed out.

You heard your name called again, and it was closer than ever, still in Tanjirou’s borrowed voice that wasn’t quite right. Your eyes went wide as you backed up against a wall.

Then, you saw it. It was a woman, crawling on all fours. Her limbs were bent at severe angles, and her neck was a little too long. She wore a kimono patterned with maple leaves, the silk faded and torn in places. She advanced towards you, head cocked almost quizzically. Her face was deathly pale, eyes cloudy and veined with red, something dark dripping down her cheeks. Her mouth was popping open and shut like a fish.

You readied your blade, ignoring the sudden terror that her appearance brought.

“(Y/N)?”

That was Tanjirou’s voice.

And it was coming from the Onryō.

Your eyes went huge, and in the moment you were caught off guard, the Onryō leaped into the air, knife-like fingers spreading as she poised herself for an attack. You rolled out of the way, watching as she went crashing into the wall you’d been leaning against. The lantern dislodged from your belt as you fell, rolling across the ground to flicker and go out. You cursed colorfully, wrestling yourself to your feet.

You advanced towards the woman as she regained her bearings, but as you swung your sword, she dodged, giggling. The sound of her laugh was a high, shrill noise, like nails on a chalkboard, grating against your mind.

If that was her real voice, you understood why she used others.

Her claws clattered and scraped as she rushed you again, and this time, you managed to land a hit, cleaving the arm she raised to strike you off. She howled in pain.

She wasn’t much of a talker, you noticed.

She shoved you to the ground with the heel of her palm, and you fell hard, sword clattering away, breath forced from your lungs.

Oh no.

She crept over you, lips pulling into a smile full of wickedly sharp teeth. You reached for your sword, shoulder lacing with pain as you extended your arm a little too far, but the hilt of your katana was just out of reach.

You were about to die. And by the sadistic glee in the entity above you’s eyes, you knew it wouldn’t be a quick death. Tears beaded in your eyes as you kicked at the woman’s legs, clawed at her arms, but you were pinned. You had no chance. Your eyes flicked around to see if you cold find any opening, anything to stay alive. You had so much to do, so much to say, so many people to meet.

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell Tanjirou how you felt.

But just as the Onryō raised her newly regenerated arm to drive her claws into your chest, she was catapulted off of you, slamming into the ground with a cry of fury. You turned to your side, propping yourself up onto your elbows.

It was Tanjirou, and you turned just as he swung his blade through the demon’s throat. His face was pinched with fury, eyes blazing, and as you realized you were going to survive, your eyes filled with tears. As soon as the demon lay on the ground, body beginning to disintegrate, he was rushing over to you.

His hands fluttered over you nervously, finding your face to tilt it this way and that, expression serious. His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the scrape on your cheek from when you’d fallen, fingers hovering over it before his hand fell.

Then, you were in his arms, enfolded against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers curling into the fabric of his haori. You were suddenly crying, unsure of why. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was your worry for him, and how seeing him now quashed any thoughts of his safety being at risk.

Well, in your line of work, technically, your safety was always at risk. But it certainly didn’t feel like it now that Tanjirou was here.

“You’re not hurt?” Tanjirou whispered, nose burying itself in your hair, “I’m so sorry we got separated, I shouldn’t have gone to investigate that building, I was around the corner for one second and you’d gone. Gods, (Y/N), I was so worried you’d been hurt, or... or killed. I don’t know what I would have done.”

You swallowed back a few sobs. “Where’s Nezuko? Is she okay?”

“Fine. She’s fine. She’s just by that shop.”

You looked over Tanjirou’s shoulder to find Nezuko looking up at the moon, giving you what you figured was a smile when she saw you looking at her.

“And you?” You breathed, fingers tracing Tanjirou’s face. He smiled.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

His eyes filled with emotion as he tucked your face into the curve of his shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, (Y/N), you’re so important to me.”

“And you—“

You started sobbing again, prompting Tanjirou to smooth back your hair, shushing you quietly.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

It took you a moment or two to regain your bearings, but you eventually did.

“I love you,” you whispered, which just made Tanjirou’s embrace grow stronger.

He pulled back ever so slightly to press a warm kiss to your mouth, catching you by surprise, but you responded anyway, kissing him back sweetly.

He broke the kiss to hold you again. “I love you too. I love you too. Thought you didn’t feel the same.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “Of course I do, I—“

Your sentence was broken by a yelp of pain or fear, you couldn’t tell, but it was unmistakably Zenitsu.

“—I can’t think of anything not to love,” you finished, glaring pointedly in the direction of the yell.

Tanjirou helped you up, bending down briefly to retrieve your katana, which you took when he handed it to you.

His hand found yours, fingers weaving tightly together.

“Let’s not get separated again, okay?”

Nezuko hurried along to walk along side you and Tanjirou as you set off in the direction of Zenitsu’s cry.

You leaned your head against Tanjirou’s shoulder.

“Let’s keep each other safe,” you said, thinking back to his earlier statement.

With Tanjirou by your side, even in places like this, you knew you’d always be safe.

#kamado tanjirō #kamado tanjiro x reader #kny tanjirou #kny x reader #Hurt/comfort #sfw #fluff #this is an old as hell draft #Like #it’s been sitting in my draft folder for nearly a year #I’ve been getting a lot of notifications for this blog lately #I’ll write more stuff in the future #expect some haikyuu fics #I have like three

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sleepyowlwrites · 2 years

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find the word tag CCLXXIV

my sister is home on spring break and is already saying things like, "sing the cat song!" and "get it for me" and "why are these turtles?" also, she eats soup badly and refuses to play boggle. it's a good thing she's cute. @nikkywrites

stubborn (the sleepy stash, 2020)

“Why can’t you do it?” Rowena asked, hands on her hips.

Arthur withered just a little under her gaze but he didn’t back down. “I did it the last time. Why can’t you?”

“I’ve tried,” Rowena snapped. She looked away, her cheeks flushing slightly. “But it only works if there’s actually love, so,” she held her hands up with a shrug.

“But I thought you forgave him after, well, you know.” Arthur tightened his grip on the chair in front of him. His brother hadn’t made the best first impression but he had seen him and Rowena getting along as of late.

Rowena tapped her hands on the table between them thoughtfully. “I did forgive him, but that’s as far as we’ve gotten. Gareth isn’t making any long strides in that direction either. We’re both too stubborn.”

temporary (summon story d0)

“Someone offered your dreams to a spirit?” Zan asked very softly.

Dair blinked again, the tears disappearing as he finally looked down at Zan. “It was an exchange,” he said.

Shae stepped out of the array and crouched beside Zan, gripping his shoulder with both hands. “Did you give your dreams voluntarily?”

It was no surprise when Dair shook his head. Giving away dreams to a spirit was basically an invitation to possession. Temporary possession could be arranged, to make a human stronger, faster, better at killing. It wasn’t unheard of for gangs to have their younger members possessed to make them better at thieving, at escaping when caught. Dair had been in a gang notorious for illegal possessions before Madi had gotten him out.

constant (summon story d0)

“I will cut your throat again,” Wryn said pleasantly.

“Oh, spirits, Wryn. Stop that! Friends don’t constantly threaten violence!” Zan stood up and put his hands on his hips, keeping up his stern gaze even if he was shaking a little inside.

Wryn was looking up at him now, their skin contracting and expanding around the jaw in what Zan recognized as confusion. “Are we friends?”

Zan dropped his hands, blinking. “Wha-, yes. Wryn. Yes, we’re friends. I mean, maybe not Erin,” Zan leaned his head back to look at their leader instead of turning his body around. She smirked at him and said nothing.

“Maybe Erin, maybe not,” Zan concluded. “But Shae and I are your friends.”

permanent (summon story d0)

Zan swallowed. “How long will you be with him?”

Wryn’s shoulders shrugged, one of them making a clunking sound as it came down. “Until he no longer needs me. I am expending my life to save his, after all.”

The nonchalance of that silken voice seemed wrong. How could anything alive be so casual about its death? Zan could joke about it because summoner deaths in rituals didn’t have to be permanent, more of an inconvenience.

Spirits couldn’t read minds, but perhaps Zan was wearing his thoughts on his face, because the ibsin said, “Life in this world, even a short one, is better than long years in the [nether] realm. It will be enough.”

gradual, splinter, exaggerate, plenty. BONUS: nonchalant, visceral. @ink-fireplace-coffee @ambsthom @ellatholmes @writingonesdreams @sleepy-night-child OR ANYBODY or nobody

#find the word tag #tag game #searching circle

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7spaceace7 · 3 years

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These Thoughts We Carry

No one really knows about Sooga’s past. No one knows where he came from, or what burdens he carries. But Hylia damn them all, Master Kohga doesn’t let anybody go through that shit alone, especially when he knows what it’s like to deal with nightmares all the time. Especially when it’s the one he loves most.

Master Kohga x Sooga hurt/comfort fic that I churned out after like two days and a bad set of nightmares. I hope you enjoy! I’ll post it on AO3 as well!

Warnings: Implied physical abuse

Word count: 2387

In a desert, it is easy to forget that the sky can change. From early morning, it seems the sun is always burning down your back, clutching you in its comforting, yet suffocating, grasp. You almost forget that dusk is just hours away. The unclouded blue skies seem to go on forever.

Though, every resident of Hyrule knows that the desert night is even more unforgiving than the daytime’s blistering heat. You are placed at a disadvantage amongst your foes. Lizalfos and bokoblins settle in for unsuspecting prey wandering about the sands. Anyone who has the wit about them could surprise you, if you are unlucky. And of course, the frozen winds bring a chill that digs deep into bone when just moments before you might have been begging for such relief.

But none of those things were the reason Sooga hated the nights of Gerudo Desert. No, Sooga despised them for their unending silence. The vast emptiness. The endless searching for something besides your thoughts. Desert nights used this loneliness to stir up a past better left forgotten, and that is what Sooga hated most of all.

He stood at the entrance of the Yiga Clan hideout, just before the land dipped and delved into its rugged formations of rock. The inverted eye statues stood through the whistling winds. Their cloth counterparts strung up above blew with a disheveled intensity. This nuisance of a noise was the only sound Sooga could hear rustling through the valley. Well, that and perhaps his restless mind.

His thoughts were always loudest when he was trying to sleep, and often woke him up in the middle of the night. Tonight happened to be such a night where they were too loud to be kept inside the hideout. Certainly, they were too loud to continue resting next to Master Kohga, lest he wake him unnecessarily. Sooga would never dare to do this. Instead, he would resign himself to the chilled desert air at the beginning of the hideout when the memories became painful enough. If he could not sleep, at least he could be useful and take a nightwatch shift. His one good eye settled right on the valley’s opening.

Focus, Sooga. Do not let your mind drift.

But his memories would not be silenced. He remembered a broken picture frame from his dream that night. The frame once held a family of three, but had broken into a family of only cracks after a bout of rage from a man he once called a father. It might have meant nothing to anyone else, but to Sooga...the screaming of the drunken bastard entered his ears at the simple sight of it. Sooga tried desperately to shake it from his mind, but his memories of the nightmare shoved through.

A broken picture frame, pieces splintered around thatchwood floor. A broken picture frame, having been thrown at his person when he hadn’t the skill to protect himself. A broken picture frame, among other airborne objects, that he narrowly avoided by the miracle of perhaps Hylia herself.

The Yiga warrior let a shaky breath escape his masked lips. Fists clenched tightly, as if that man would be right behind him if only he found courage to look. A quick glance told him nothing was there, but his heart was not at ease.

Logically, Sooga knew there was nothing. He knew his father had left this world long ago. Sooga knew it so firmly because it was his own hands that finished him off. Simple strangulation, soon after he had only turned eighteen years of age. The warrior had made sure there was none of his father left in this world to haunt him ever again.

Yet here he was. Years later, still scared by ghosts he’d conjured up himself. The uniformed man sighed, and in a moment of weakness, pried off his white mask. Sooga was careful not to deepen the crack as his palm gingerly encased the object. Perhaps the cold air against his bare skin would be of use to his intruding thoughts. At least, he thought, it was nice to feel fresh air.

“There you are!” Came a familiar voice from behind his post. Sooga jumped and smacked the mask back onto his face in a panic. He blinked once from surprise, and once more from the shock he just gave his facial nerves.

“M-Master Kohga,” Sooga got to his feet and bowed automatically, hoping his pounding heartbeat wasn’t able to be heard by his superior. “I had not thought you were awake at this hour.”

“I wasn’t, but then I rolled over and realized you up and vanished,” Kohga yawned, scratching an itch at his neck. He was without his uniform, but still donned a type of mask. This one was specifically for sleep, and made of soft, red fabric that held a sewn pattern of the inverted eye, closed instead of open. For now, this mask rested atop his forehead. “Yunno, for a big guy, you’re real hard to find. Took me forever to figure out where you went.”

“My apologies, Master Kohga.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it, I was only a little worried,” This of course was a blatant lie, as Master Kohga had quickly woken up in a cold sweat after his hand fell upon an empty spot next to him in bed. He had grabbed only his robe in his haste to find where Sooga had gone. But of course, a dignified leader such as he would never have done a thing like that. Kohga took a spot next to Sooga’s post and sat down. “So what’re you doin’ way out here so late?”

Sooga was silent for a moment as he sat down next to his master. He contemplated brushing off the comment with a vague answer, but...something compelled him to confide instead.

“A dream demon made its attempt on my subconscious,” Sooga spoke. He hoped to retain at least a bit of dignity by acting professionally, but the facade was lost on Kohga. “I did not want to wake you with it.”

“Nightmares gettin’ to ya again, I see.”

Again? Had Kohga somehow already known of his recent night difficulties?

“Don’t look so surprised, we’ve been sleeping toge-- er, bunking --for a while now, and you get kinda squirmy when you aren’t dreaming well.”

Sooga hadn’t any idea of this happening. Shame sat upon his masked features and settled its way down to his throat. His tongue searched for something to say. An apology, perhaps? That was all he knew to do in a moment like this. Apologize for the inconvenience, apologize for the worries he must have induced, apologize for the disturbance of his master’s rest, apologize, apologize, apolo-

“You don’t have to feel bad, Sooga, I know you put all that pressure on yourself,” Master Kohga said. Sooga’s head turned towards the unmasked man beside him in utter surprise. Had he suddenly learned a new technique for mind-reading? “Nightmares suck. Real bad. I get it.”

Rather than questioning how he knew such an appropriate response, Sooga nodded, and dared to ask a different question.

“What...happens? When you are brought to notice I am not resting well, that is,” Sooga asked quietly, head turning away once more. It was no surprise that Sooga was soft-spoken, but that was out of his own self-discipline. His day-to-day tone was based on leadership and careful thought, but this...this was a tone Kohga had never heard from his friend before. This was laced with fear.

“Well, ah,” Kohga started. His brown eyes softened as he recalled one night waking to Sooga thrashing about their shared covers, murmuring something like a cry for help. To another night where Sooga had begun shaking uncontrollably. To a night just last week when he unmistakably heard a pleading for someone to stop. Stop what, Kohga didn’t know, and he knew even less of who it could be about. Even his best attempts to wake his second-in-command went without fruition. “Sometimes you say stuff. Sleep-talker nonsense, yunno, I usually don’t have a clue what you’re going on about. But you always seem so...scared.”

I always hold you when they get bad like that, Kohga wanted to say. The words were right there, threatening to spill out of him all at once in a jumble of messy worries and care that the Yiga master so desperately wanted to confess. But this wasn’t the time.

Kohga left out the part where he’d always wrap his arms around a nightmare-stricken Sooga to calm his shakes and trembles. He left out the part where he’d draped a hand across Sooga’s chest and gently adjusted his mask enough to wipe away the hidden tears. He left out the part where he’d discovered that nuzzling his face into Sooga’s neck would cause the larger man to remember he was safe and briefly find relief. At least, Kohga hoped he did.

“I am sorry you have seen me in such weakness, Master Kohga..” Sooga finally replied, bringing Kohga back to the present moment. Kohga was right next to him, but still, the man seemed so far away.

“Being afraid isn’t weakness. Everybody gets scared of stuff, even me,” Kohga nudged Sooga’s side in a lighthearted gesture, as they both knew just how terrified the ‘fearless leader of the Yiga Clan’ could really get. “This world’s full of some scary shit. You’re allowed to get scared, no matter how strong you are. And you’re, like, the strongest guy I know, besides me of course.”

“You truly believe that?”

“Course I do! I mean look atcha, you’re twice my size and a badass, dual-wielding blademaster. There’s no one in the world cooler than you and me, big guy.”

Sooga cracked a smile at that.

“My point is,” Kohga continued, “You don’t have to save face with me. Dream demons get to me too, yunno, that’s why I’ve got my big strong bodyguard next to me every night. That’s what makes me not so scared anymore. I know that nothin’s gonna get to me because if it tries, I’ve got you.”

Kohga paused, eyes drifting over to where Sooga’s own eye would be. “So, I wanna help you feel protected from ‘em, too.”

“But that is my job-” Sooga tried to protest, turning back to face his master.

“You deserve to feel safe, too, Sooga.”

Sooga was silent at this. They sat in the silence for a while, just simply staring at each other. Master Kohga’s brow furrowed in the rare serious manner that it did. He was determined to get Sooga to see how much he cared. He would do anything to help him, if only Sooga would allow it.

The warrior next to him saw that determination in his chocolate brown eyes, paired with another feeling he couldn’t quite pin. Whatever it was, it was inviting. Sooga couldn’t help but want to see it more. He wanted to share moments like this more, where it was just the two of them and neither put on a show. Moments where he could see the bouncing curls that framed Kohga’s chubby cheeks up close, and feel the warmth from his gaze. Perhaps one day, even, Sooga could let go of his own mask.

Kohga sighed, which led to a loud, long yawn overtaking his features. The plump clan master gave a little stretch and sat back against the wall. If Sooga didn’t want to, he wouldn’t bring it up again.

“I’m not gonna force you or anything, I just-”

“I would like to feel safe with you,” The words tumbled out of Sooga’s mouth before he had the notion to stop them. Somewhere along the lines, his hand had grabbed Kohga’s and was now clutching it tight. He hardly knew what he was doing, but didn’t back down. It felt right. “There are many things I must atone for. I do not know how to achieve this peace just yet, but…”

Kohga squeezed his hand back, trying to ignore the blatant blush dusting his cheeks. If not for the dark, surely Sooga would have seen and fretted over his health, as he often did, but Kohga wouldn’t mind. He never minded.

“I’ll be here the whole time,” He assured. And he meant it. Whatever Sooga needed, Kohga would offer help. It was obvious that the masked man was holding onto something painful, and Kohga would offer his support in any way that he could. Even if it interrupted his sleeping schedule.

Another yawn bubbled up from Kohga’s chest, and when he tried to stifle it, it forced out as a hiccup anyway.

Way to ruin a moment, Kohga thought.

Cute, Sooga chuckled to himself.

“Perhaps we should return to bed, and continue this in the morning,” Sooga offered. Master Kohga’s shoulders visibly relaxed in relief as he slumped his face into Sooga’s chest. It felt like two muscular pillows smushing against his cheeks, a blessing from Hylia probably. Er, Ganon. Totally meant Ganon.

“Yes please,” He whined pitifully. Another chuckle rumbled through Sooga’s chest, vibrating Kohga’s whole head.

This time, Sooga took to reading his master’s mind. His strong arms effortlessly picked up the stouter man and cradled him against his chest, as if Kohga were a bride. The night air brought a chill, after all, and Kohga had only dressed his robe over his undergarments. He looked down to the half-lidded face against him.

“I do appreciate your words, Master Kohga. I will always remember your kindness,” Sooga whispered above the wind. He looked down at the bundle of a man for a response, but only found soft snoring instead.

The stupendous chief of the Yiga Clan was asleep before his sentence was finished.

Sooga’s smile was soft. The winds of the desert night rolled behind him deep in the valley, and Sooga turned away from them feeling slightly freer. If any dream demons dared test his patience this night again, this time they would be answering to the courageous man in his arms.

#Master Kohga #Sooga #hwaoc #loz botw #age of calamity #yiga husbands #yiga clan #Master Kohga x Sooga #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #pre-calamity #Fanfics

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sgwrscrsh · 3 years

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peppermint white chocolate

♡a/n♡ first angst first angst first angst. i had many a thought about this one but i hope it delivers the way i wanted it to. i feel kinda bad about hurting my icyhot boy but the powers that be chose violence.

♡fillings♡

todoroki shoto x gn!reader (tho there are implications of being able to give birth) + angst + “i think we’ve lied enough” + implied minor character death + 654 words

♡box of chocolates event♡

if you had been born quirkless, you probably would’ve been spared a lot of complications.

this arranged marriage.

this broken family.

this delusion of love.

when you were called into endeavor’s office a year ago, you didn’t know what to expect. you had only interned at his agency as a student before getting hired elsewhere once you went pro. of course, your agency often worked with his, so the building was more than familiar, but it was unusual for only you to be summoned by the number one hero.

you definitely didn’t expect to see your parents or your former classmate, and ex-boyfriend, sitting around the reception area when you stepped out of the elevator on the highest floor. nor did you expect to walk out of the building with a fiancé you didn’t choose, simply because his father was intrigued by the possible combinations of his quirk and yours your progeny could carry.

but you went along with it because you saw how happy it made your parents, ascertaining your future by marrying into the prestigious todoroki family. the planning process and the wedding itself was a blur, your honeymoon a solo vacation as it seemed like your new husband wanted nothing to do with you.

however, when you returned, shoto acted like he did when you were young and in love, looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, guiding you around the hero galas he brought you to as his plus one with a warm palm against the small of your back, doing everything it took to reassure the media and his father of your successful marriage. even you were convinced he loved you like a good husband should, allowing yourself to fall for him all over again. eventually, you started fantasizing about starting a family with this man, out of your own volition and not because the strongest hero planted the idea in your head.

when you hear the news of endeavor’s death, you immediately seek shoto out, wanting to be there for him as he processes the passing of his father. though, the apple does not fall far from the tree because as soon as you step into his office, you’re rendered dumbstruck by the man sitting at the desk before you.

“the media is a mess with this,” shoto deadpans as he flips through article after article with the same headlines. “might as well get it over with while everyone is still processing.”

you blink at him dumbly, “get it over with?”

the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water.

his blank gaze sends a shiver down your spine. “i think we’ve lied enough.”

he never loved you.

‘i’ll take care of the divorce papers.”

it was all for show.

“the media will spin it as a result of my grief, and you’ll be compensated for the inconvenience.”

well if he could put on such a performance all this time, you could do the same now. you swallow down the welling tears and splinters of your heart as you stretch your lips into a polite smile.

“of course, todoroki. good thing the break will be easy since we didn’t give endeavor the grandchildren he wanted from this. or develop feelings for each other.”

honestly, you should’ve been an actress with how nonchalantly you tagged on that last bit despite the sharp pang in your chest. however, you could’ve sworn you saw a flash of something that looked vaguely like regret in his heterochromatic eyes but it’s gone before you could confirm its existence.

“right,” he refocuses on the stack of papers before him after a beat. assuming that was the end of the conversation, you spin on your heel to leave, just barely missing the last whisper that fell from his lips as the door shut behind you.

“at least i can save you from being trapped in this fucked up family.”

box of chocolates taglist: @honey-makki @lets-go-datehoe @nachotrash @newfriendjen @sugarshoyo @kenmaki

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#skye's box of chocolates #skye writes angst #todoroki shoto #todoroki shoto angst #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki #todoroki angst #todoroki x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #bnha #bnha angst #bnha x reader #mha #mha angst #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bbdaily

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Tales from the Edge: Mail Run

First Edge Institute short story! I hope you like it. :D

“Where are you going?” Deer asked, looking up from her soup to glare at Johannsson with suspicion.

“Mail just came in,” said Johannsson, gesturing at the mail light. The Institute’s driveway was long, and the mailbox was at the very end of it, so, to prevent extraneous trips, they had a sensor in it that sent a signal when the mailbox was full. It was a recent addition. “I’m going to go get it.”

“No, you’re not,” said Deer.

“What? Why?”

“Johannsson, when was the mail light put in? I can tell you right now that it wasn’t forty years ago.”

“I’m not going to touch the sensor!” protested Johannsson.

“Don’t want to risk it. Besides, this is why we have interns.”

Zoe, on the other side of the break room, looked up with an expression of betrayal on her face. “What?”

“Mail,” said Deer. “Go get it.”

“I work for Research.”

“You’re an intern. You work for everyone. Besides, half of our mail is for research in the first place.”

Zoe scowled and spitefully shoved the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. “Fine,” she said, spraying crumbs. “I will. But if I get kidnapped on the way there, it’s your fault.”

“You’re just walking down the driveway,” said Deer. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Your fault,” repeated Zoe, stabbing a finger at Deer as she walked through the door.

A few seconds later, she was back. She strode across the room to steal a loaf of bread and left again.

“What was that about?” asked Deer.

“I think bread is supposed to help against fairies,” said Johannsson.

“Really? Why don’t we use that?”

“Some fairies,” amended Johannsson.

“That makes sense,” said Deer.

It was a beautiful day. Really.

Unfortunately, kidnappings tended to happen on beautiful days. Zoe squared her shoulders before stepping from the nice, air-conditioned lobby into the scorching outdoor heat. She sighed and trudged out into the parking lot.

Her palms sweated where they touched the plastic bread bag, and she kept switching it back and forth between her hands in an attempt to make it less uncomfortable to hold. There was a breeze, but it was only barely strong enough to make the wheat planted on either side of the driveway rustle and whisper.

Stupid grass. Stupid internship.

She reached the mailbox and groaned as she saw the package shoved in it. Packages were supposed to be driven all the way up to the front door. Especially packages that didn’t fit completely in the mailbox. What if it had started raining?

The sun beat down on her, indicating exactly how likely that was.

Okay, so this was more about the inconvenience to her, personally, than anything else. If Johannsson had come back complaining about having to carry one measly package, she’d have teased him. A lot.

With some effort, she yanked the box free and frowned at the places the cardboard had been pinched and warped by being squeezed into the mailbox. Hopefully, there wasn’t anything fragile inside.

The box was heavier than expected.

She shifted the mail, bread, and box around in her hands, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the items, before giving up. The driveway wasn’t that long.

About halfway back, she adjusted the box in her hands. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that it was getting heavier. Maybe she should start weight training again. But it took so long. Ugh.

Speaking of long… She looked over her shoulder, back at the mailbox. The unpleasant heat really was drawing this out, wasn’t it?

Yeah. No. This had gone on for too long. She broke into an awkward jog, her eyes staying steady on the front of the building.

It wasn’t getting closer. She stopped and pulled out her phone. No service. Not even wifi. Typical. She turned around and walked back to the mailbox.

At least, she tried to go back to the mailbox. It wasn’t getting any closer, either. So much for messing with the mailbox sensor to send an SOS.

The box was heavy.

Okay. She wanted words with whoever had gotten the obviously cursed thing sent through their regular mail. That had to be against Institute regulations.

She knelt, settling the box on her lap. She could open the box, but direct contact tended to be contraindicated in the case of most cursed things. So. Time to try to figure out what it could be and how to get rid of it.

Yay.

Well. She did work for the Research Department.

Something that grew heavier the more you carried it… The only thing that came to mind were the false children of the ubume, a Japanese yokai. But those usually looked like children until you stopped, and, to the best of her knowledge, they didn’t have any space-warping properties.

Going at this from the other data point… Ugh. Too many things warped space. She didn’t even know where to start.

Good thing she wasn’t planning on putting this on her resume.

Question: Would it be safe to just yeet the thing into the wheat?

She made a face. It would probably be better to avoid the yeeting for now. She didn’t want to lose the thing, in case she had to kick the hell out of it or something to get it to stop trapping her. Chucking it as far away from herself as possible would come later. She put it down on the side of the driveway, where some weeds were starting to come up. Hopefully, this wouldn’t turn out to be one of those cursed objects that punish the victim for trying to get rid of them.

She walked away, towards the Institute.

Ten minutes later, she almost walked by the package. She groaned and glared at the offending object. Great.

Another option she had was just waiting until someone sent out search parties, but she might be in a pocket dimension or something stupid like that. There were too many incidents out there where a person disappeared, only to reappear in their last known location but dead from exposure.

Andi, her parent, could probably find her despite that. They always managed to find her in faerie, which was… Not anything like a pocket dimension, once she got down to particulars, but still. On the other hand, Andi would definitely give her grief for getting stuck in a pocket dimension on a mail run.

No, wait, there were other things she could do first. Like walking into the wheat.

Stupid grass was going to poke her so much. She’d probably wind up with half a ton of seeds in her socks.

This whole thing was so inconvenient. She could be doing so many more useful things.

She renewed her promise to have a discussion with whoever had put this stupid thing in with the regular mail. She turned ninety degrees and stepped off the road.

Ten minutes of walking through grass later, she stepped back onto the driveway. Honestly, she hadn’t expected that to work. Whatever.

Time to peel this baby.

… She was actively cursed. If she wanted to make fun of the unboxing event from hell, she very well could.

She knelt again, asphalt hot under her knees. She brushed away a bit of gravel that pressed against her skin.

Why was there so much tape on this?

Some old person packaged this. She just knew.

Finally, she tore the cardboard open to reveal—

Newspaper.

She rolled her eyes and pulled it back aaaaaaand okiedokie. That was creepy. That was a freaking stone baby. A… What was it called? A lithopedion. Calcified unborn fetus.

Totally haunted. Yep. A ghost this close would normally set off the alarms in the Detection Department, but they missed things, sometimes. Like the Great Fae that kidnapped her last month.

Provisionally, she decided to blame Mark, the Institute’s ghost expert and a member of the Containment Department, for this.

“I’m not your mom,” she said, hoping that would settle this. “Or your dad. I’m not old enough. Well—” she rolled her eyes “—technically, physically I’m old enough, but I’m not, like. Emotionally ready for a kid. Or to die trapped in the driveway at the place I work on a mail run. I mean, really. That would be a sucky way to go. I mean, I’ve been in sword duels with faeries.”

She stood up.

“Let’s try this again.”

Ten minutes later she saw the creepy stone baby on the ground in front of her. Stubborn thing.

“Like, I’m more than willing to stomp the hell out of you if you don’t uncurse me,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

That wasn’t one hundred percent true. If this was a ghost, breaking its vessel might break its power, or it might free it. Ghosts tended not to know that, though.

“One more try,” she said.

Ten minutes later, she was in exactly the same place as she was before.

Time for stomping. She raised her foot.

A fairy dove out of the grass to fight her. He had a sword. She smacked him with the loaf of bread, which did nothing, and glared with disgust at the stone baby. It was just delaying. This whole thing was an illusion. Stupid illusion rock baby thing. She’d probably break it and find out that she’d bypassed the Institute entirely and was standing in a stupid field somewhere. Or maybe she’d been going in a loop, considering that she was still near the thing.

The fight with the ‘fairy’ turned into rolling on the ground and hair pulling. This was by design. Eventually she got within grabbing distance of the stone baby, grabbed it, and brained the ‘fairy’ with it. Then she slammed it on the ground. It splintered, shards cutting into her hand.

The ‘fairy’ vanished.

Zoe took a deep breath. Cool. That was over then. Yay.

Now she’d—

Oh, no.

The mail.

Deer looked up from her desk as the door opened, saw it was Zoe, and looked back at her email before doing a double-take.

“What happened to you?” she asked, standing. “Are you okay?”

Zoe raised a single finger. “I want to know,” she said, “who is sending cursed stone babies through the regular mail.” She dumped a bunch of rock on Deer’s desk.

For several long moments, Deer stared at it. “We’re going to need another session on our shipping policy for hazardous objects.”

“You think?”

#edge institute #tales from the edge #original fiction #my fiction

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janekfan · 4 years

Note

I'm a little hesitant about this prompt, because it might need a longer story to fill it, but based on reading your fics it may be to your taste for h/c? I've seen a few Geraskier stories where Geralt is cursed to lose his sight and hearing, but I'd be interested to read one where it's Jaskier who's cursed instead. You seem to like exploring growth in stories, and I could see Geralt having to step outside his comfort zone, learning to help and support Jask while they try to break the curse.

I was inspired by this prompt because in my youth, when families go to water parks and things, my mother insisted on holding my glasses so I wouldn't lose them, not realizing I cannot see hardly ANYTHING without them, just colors. She left me like half a dozen times in a throng of people and it was scary. And even though I kept telling her I couldn't SEE HER, she wouldn't listen. I felt scared and stupid because I couldn't keep track of my family.

So I hope you enjoy :D

Thank you for the prompt! @obscurebookwyrm

Sankofa

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965268/chapters/63119659

“Geralt.”

“Hm.”

“I. What do you want me to say?” Jaskier’s grip on his lute tightened and he had to forcibly relax himself so as not to snap it in twain. “That you should have gotten hit with it instead? That you should be the one waiting for the effects of a curse to take hold so that I? The mighty bard can be the one to protect us both?”

“Hm.”

“Need I remind you that had you not pissed her off, we wouldn’t even be here?”

“Hm.”

“Fine. Leave me at the next village and I’ll just succumb to whatever this ends up being while you continue witchering or whatever.”

“Hm.” Roach picked up her pace and he could hear Jaskier curse Geralt’s stubbornness as he loped after them.

Geralt was angry. Angrier than usual with the musician and definitely not impressed with his self sacrifice because now, if anything, he would be an even bigger liability. It was bad enough he fumbled along behind him, constantly jabbering, writing the most ridiculous songs. But now, Geralt had to wait and see what would become of him now that he’d been hit with some unnamed affliction. Geralt refused to admit that Jaskier was right. That it was better that the stronger of them was curse free and able to continue on unimpaired.

But he was now an even larger inconvenience and Geralt hadn’t thought that was possible.

And yet.

As brave a face as he was putting on, he could smell the sour scent of anxiousness as Jaskier filled up the silence with more talk about inane things, stray lyrics, random observations, all because he was nervous.

Nothing happened yet. Maybe nothing would happen at all.

“Geralt.” Even and steady, Jaskier’s voice hovered somewhere to the left of him. There was something strange about the quality of it and it immediately set Geralt on edge.

“What?” He couldn’t help the exasperation, it had been a long few days, and he felt Jaskier tense beside him on his bed roll.

“There.” He paused and Geralt knew if he turned to look at him he’d be worrying his lip between his teeth.

“What?” They were late as it is, the sun three fingers above the horizon already.

“There are no stars.” His whispering was shaky and trembling. Fear. It was flooding Geralt’s sensitive nose. What was this lunatic on about? Of course there weren’t any stars.

“It’s late morning. Of course there aren’t.” He rolled his eyes and began packing up camp. They’d eat on the move to make up for lost time. He nudged Jaskier with the toe of his boot. “Get up. You’re wasting daylight.”

“Daylight.” His hand was hovering over his face and he kicked him a little harder.

“Yes. Daylight. Move or stay here, but I’m leaving.” Instead of following his directions, Jaskier swallowed a few times, blinking hard and staring at his palm in between. “Jaskier.” Growling, grabbing the collar of his chemise and slinging him to his feet himself, confused when his arms shot out for balance and he nearly fell. “What are you--are you drunk?” No. He’d smell it. But it was all becoming a little too clear and Geralt didn’t want to be the one to say it aloud.

“No.” A weak exhale, a disbelieving laugh. “I’m. I’m blind.”

Blind.

The curse.

“Are you sure?” Geralt was a hair's breadth away from his face, examining his eyes, blank and vacant and staring off into the distance despite their proximity. There was nothing wrong that he could tell. Still the same cornflower blue he was so familiar with.

“I think I’d know.” He scoffed.

“Then we’d better get moving.” Geralt couldn’t help it, the thread of anger twisting around his words just happened. All Jaskier seemed to do was slow him down and get in the way. “Find a way to break this thing.” It took the bard three times longer to pack his belongings and Geralt became more impatient every time he dropped something or stubbed his toe or lost his balance. He knew it wasn’t fair. But this was all the bard’s fault in the first place and he’d have to deal with the consequences.

Jaskier played his lute even more and was even slower, not yet sure on his feet without the advantage of sight. Geralt saw that he kept his ear canted towards Roach’s hooves crunching on the stones, using her as a guide and he wondered if maybe Jaskier should be riding her instead. The music he was picking out on his strings was simpler and felt more like practice than anything new and he realized that he was comforting himself with easy exercises and wondered how long he’d insist on doing it.

All day, it turned out, and Geralt was just about on his last nerve, turning his irritability into action by setting up camp and batting Jaskier out of his way, finally just sitting him in the dirt. He stoked up the fire, tossed down Jaskier’s bedroll and stalked off to find dinner and clear his head before he started yelling.

When he returned with a brace of rabbits, Jaskier was gone and Geralt swallowed down the spike of panic in his throat, dropping his catch and looking for signs of a struggle and instead finding odd marks that looked like Jaskier had crawled across the ground. And he found him, cowering amid Roach’s legs, a dangerous spot for probably anyone else, but she was as calm as ever, letting him stroke the length of her forelimb. There were drying tear tracks on his face.

“G’Geralt?” His voice was small and wavering, barely above his shaking breath.

“Who else would it be?”

“I didn’t know where you’d gone.” He didn’t leave the horse. “I, I called out. But. And then. There’s a lot of noises in the woods at night.” This laugh was self deprecating, as though he knew how ridiculous he was being, like a child hiding from shadows.

But his whole world was in shadow.

“You’ve camped before. It’s foolish to be afraid.”

“Y’yeah. Of course it is.” He extricated himself from his position beneath Roach, petting her neck, and Geralt let it be. “Thank you for your protection, good lady.” She lipped the collar of his doublet and he rested his cheek on her velvet nose for just a moment before stumbling back to his bedroll.

“Here.” Jaskier looked confused. “The rabbit. Dinner?”

“Oh, uh.” He reached out, drawing his hand quickly back when he burned the tips of his fingers and slipping them into his mouth for a second. “Ha, it’s hot.” Geralt yanked his wrist and pressed the stick he’d roasted the meat on against his palm and watched Jaskier’s fingers wrap around it reflexively.

“Just eat. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”

They didn’t. Not the next day, nor the day after that, but Jaskier was trying to adjust more and more each day despite how he seemed to be withdrawing. It was easy to forget he was blind and Geralt was easily frustrated by his sense of direction, or rather the awful lack of it. More than once, he’d misjudged the path and toppled into the bushes. Twice, Geralt had come back from a hunt to find him trapped in the corner of their rented room. He’d gotten turned around and hadn’t been able to figure out how he was boxed in by the bed, the small table, a chair. Jaskier laughed it off.

He’d been upset each time.

At the market the next day, Geralt told him off handedly that he was heading to the blacksmith, and to catch up when he was ready, because usually he wanted to dither about at the stalls looking at some trinket or another. When he’d finally realized, tapping his foot and waiting for a blind man who didn’t know his way around this village to somehow find him, he followed his scent, laced with terror, to an alley where he’d pressed himself up tight to the wall, protecting his back. They didn’t speak, Geralt just grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the room. Told him to stay there if he couldn’t figure out how to find his way around.

The hurt on his face cut like a blade.

“Get down and stay down.” Geralt shoved Jaskier’s face into the dirt, both of them narrowly avoiding decapitation when the beast attacked out of nowhere. Caught flat footed, Geralt found himself pinned to the ground, struggling under the weight of it and hooking his thumbs in the corners of its maw to keep the teeth from closing around his head. Fetid breath came closer and closer and he thought for a moment this might be it when the resounding crack of a tree limb colliding with the side of its skull stunned it enough for Geralt to kick it off him. He used the momentum to roll and draw his steel sword, cutting off its head with a wet and sickening squelch.

“Geralt?” Jaskier, covered in black ichor and mud, stood swaying in the road, clinging to a length of splintered wood, blind eyes wide with shock. And then, panting with horror, Jaskier fainted dead away.

He’d lost him again.

“Fuck.” Geralt didn’t know where or how long ago and began retracing his steps, scenting the air and picking up the faintest traces of the oils he’d used last night in the bath. It was tainted by the smell of fear, acrid and sharp, and he ran.

Saw Jaskier pinned up against a wall by a larger man than he, a broad, ugly hand clasped over his mouth and a knee between his thighs. He was struggling to breathe, high pitched whimpering slipped from behind his attacker’s palm and he grabbed a fistful of hair to slam the back of Jaskier’s head into the wall behind him.

The brute didn’t notice the knife slipped between his ribs until it was too late. He’d die in this place and Geralt wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it.

“Who--” He sobbed, choked. “Geralt?” Tears cascaded down his cheeks, slipped off his chin.

“Who was that?” Why couldn’t he be kind to Jaskier when he needed it most? Why did he let his own fear of the situation manifest as blame?

“He’d. Solicited me in the tavern and I told him no.” He shuddered. “I thought he might be following but.” He swallowed with a wet click. “You were walking so fast, I lost the sound of your steps.” Drawing a sharp intake of breath he swept a hand through his tousled hair, trying to calm himself down. Geralt could hear his heartbeat hammering madly away behind his breastbone.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jaskier flinched at his volume, hugging himself around his middle and casting his face to the ground, and if Geralt was a stronger man he would tell his bard that this was not his fault. That he was scared of what he almost let happen.

“I. You were angry.”

“What?” With the heel of his hand, Jaskier scrubbed at his face. His bruised face, the imprints from where he was held darkening around his mouth and neck.

“You said I needed to figure this out and. I.” Had been snatched off the street by a predator and very nearly badly hurt. “I forgot my dagger back at the inn.” He took a deep breath, and then another. “I’m sorry, that was. That was stupid.”

“Hm.” It wasn’t. He should have been safe with Geralt in broad daylight. This time he took his hand, laced their fingers together and squeezed. “Let’s go.”

Exhausted from his earlier panic, Jaskier could barely stand when they reached the room, and Geralt helped him the last few steps to the bed, divesting him of doublet and chemise to expose even more bruising. He should have killed the guy slower. Much slower.

“Sorry. I’m sorry you have to do this.” Barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have. This curse.”

“Hush.” Geralt wrung out a cloth in the wash basin, touched it to his face and caught him when he jerked away in fear and surprise. “It’s alright. Just me. I’m going to get you cleaned up, Jaskier.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Muttering, he reached for the flannel.

“I know. Just. Relax, alright?” He swept it up his arm, lingered at the space between his neck and shoulder. “I’ve got you. I’m. Going to do better, Jaskier.”

“What do you mean?” This time, he allowed the touch and Geralt dabbed at a cut on his lip before rinsing and wringing again.

“You’ll ride Roach. In towns, I won’t let you out of my sight.” Jaskier was relaxing, blinking sleepily.

“You can’t babysit me all the time, Geralt.” Though he detected the hope that he wouldn’t have to keep doing this alone beneath his voice.

“No. But I can take care of you until we find a way to break this. Like I should have been doing from the start.” Jaskier’s head was nodding as he fought to stay awake. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Geralt let Jaskier sleep in. The man was dead to the world, bruises stark on his pale skin, and no doubt exhausted from the day before and trying to manage as a newly blind being basically traveling alone. They had to get moving. Maybe Yennefer would understand how to break this curse or at least point them in a direction. But they had to find her first.

“Jaskier.” There was no response, not even a twitch, and Geralt spoke his name louder, and louder still before shaking him awake and dodging his flying fist. “Jaskier!” Nothing but panic in his face and Geralt was tired of seeing that there. He settled his hands over his shoulders, cupped his neck on either side. “Jaskier, what is it? A bad dream?” That wasn’t uncommon after an experience like he’d had.

“Geralt?” His breathing picked up, tears lined his dark lashes. “I.” The witcher snapped his fingers on either side of his head and watched his stricken face stay the same. “Geralt?” This time he drew Jaskier into an embrace, hugging him tightly and allowing him to do the same.

Because he couldn’t hear.

#prompt #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #Jaskier #Geralt #Blindness #Deaf #Curse #hurt comfort

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thexam-union · 3 years

Text

Straight-To-Video Sequel

Here’s a fic about Alphecca and their Nonsense! They’re a clown and a fool but I care them so much, especially when they make things so much harder for themselves for entertainment value.

Length: 1370 Words

General Overview: Alphecca’s bored and goes on a “20 minute adventure” to keep themselves sharp. They’re bored of the base material, so they shake it up a little!

Warning(s): Arson, Being chased down, Serial Killer

( If you need anything else tagged/forewarned about let me know!! )

The air is cold, biting at you like teeth without a sense of weight to them and with an endless hunger only obtainable without a stomach. The rain is pelting at you with equal force and hatred, spattering haphazardly on your face. You blink more than usual, but this is what you have to deal with. There’s a threat on the horizon. You know what it is. It’s a man. About your height. He has a machete, and smells of blood and rotting meat. He drove you out of the only shelter for miles around, and you are running. You are running in this forest in the driving rain, careful not to slip and fall but every bit as desperate to just get out. He can smell your breath in the cold air, the warmth of your shaky heartbeat. He can move faster than you in the storm, and you know it.

Alphecca jumps into these scenarios every other day. For fun. Sometimes alone, sometimes with other people. It’s a personal favourite, but overdoing it removes any and all appeal. So they shook it up. This time, the killer can smell you. A slight retelling, diction to a recorder, but it’s worth it! It’s always worth it to shake it up a little, and dashing around in the dark in the rain with sunglasses of all things on? It was a fun experience, actually. Especially since they didn’t know how the story would end this time.

They see a sturdy-looking tree with a low-hanging branch, and start to climb. They fall off once, but pick themselves out of the mud and pull themselves up again. If they feel in actual danger, they can just leave. They don’t want to, of course, but they do remind themselves of their power in this situation. Turning on a gamemode where you can’t die when you’re actually at risk so nothing bad actually happens. But they swing up into the tree, regardless, and push up their glasses with a satisfied sigh, even with their hoodie tied around their waist despite the chill in the air and the driving rain, they’re enjoying themselves. They look at the ground below, but they know their little diversionary tactic is a very short-term solution. Of course, they’re unarmed - it’s no fun when you drop into a situation with a tailor-made fix - but these branches should be able to accomplish something. Maybe. A blunt instrument’s a blunt instrument, despite the encumbrance. The adversary’s faster and has every advantage, after all. Actually, that’s a good point.

Untying their hoodie from their waist, Alphecca tied it around a branch with a satisfied nod before continuing on their way. A meaningless distraction, but there’s better options elsewhere, and that elsewhere’s back at the lakeside cabin. So a meaningless “make the opponent scramble up a tree” means they have time. And obviously, they’re not dressed their best when going up against this scenario, so they don’t have to worry about damaging their favourite jacket. Just a hoodie that’s a bit on the small side and some easily-repaired trousers that are probably going to be caked with mud. All in all, not much problem if it was a close shave. They like things better that way.

Next course of action on this mad dash around the trees is to circle widely and then beeline for the right place. The wind may be howling, but in these make-believe fictions it’s an inconvenience that’s there for the sake of immersion and fear factor. Fear, in all its forms, can make the world go round. That much they live by. The chase wasn’t their main scene, but getting lost in the same trees over and over again? That had the perfect zest.

They were starting to lose steam a little bit into this, which is always disappointing, but ultimately expected. It’s fine, though, they knew they were going the right way, even if it was just by muscle-memory and general awareness of the area. The off-step snapping of twigs that occasionally hit the ground like a bunch of kids with a bag of bang snaps wasn’t a good sign, but what was a good omen was the lake coming into view. A supposed holiday location gone wrong, but who in their right mind would want to have a holiday here? The only reason Alphecca chose to be here was the fact there was a risk and hazard to experience, not the lakeside view. They have no interest in fishing, either, but it’s not as if the fish in the lake are anything but dead.

Alphecca slammed the door behind them and jammed a chair under the handle before taking a minute to breathe and wipe off their glasses. No, they weren’t coming off during a killer chase. They’re iconic, for one thing, and the lamps in the building were just too bright. Now, as for potential defense mechanisms, the best thing to grab is a ranged option. Wood not recommended but might have to be settled for - they didn’t take in every detail of the building even in their numerous passes, because who would? - but something they did like the look of was the rope. Bang.

Not to go full Home Alone on a nonproblem, but rope’s the gift that never stops giving, and those banisters are looking very tetherable. Especially with this thickness and length, where it’ll take a few slashes to take out a shard, and could probably be a safe exit. Killers aren’t that smart, or they’d find the sweet spot immediately. Burning the place up isn’t an option for a few reasons, but that never translates into “don’t even try”. It’s actually very cinematic to douse-- Ohoho, that’s devilish. And the new plan!

Picking up a bucket and a canister of fuel and pouring it in, Alphecca saw the door start to give with a crack. That had to be done manually, then. Fine! No problem. Just throw it at him through the ropes and maybe hit it into the lake while they burn the place? Sure. Sounds good. Sounds very dramatic, so of course it had to be the solution. No one min-maxes their killer escapes, thank you very much.

The door gave way and the chair did too in the same moment, splinters going everywhere as the man started clanking up the stairs at a pretty steady rate. At least, until the gas was thrown at him, along with a lantern that started the fire. Bingo. Next up, window! One end of the rope thrown over the edge, and shimmy down it ju-

Or not! That hurt, actually. Hopefully nothing was broken in the fall, they could still stand, but they’d probably be limping for a bit. Not good. At least the screaming from the local inferno wasn’t coming in their direction. They’d call that a win, actually. Nice!

Alphecca reached into their handbag, pulling out their recorder and hitting the stop button, and the familiar smells of popcorn and pure sugar were in the air more than blood and rain and burnt wood. Their hoodie lied at their side, undamaged, but equally damp and in the same tied position as they’d left it on the branch on.

Their leg still really hurt, but nothing that sitting in the projection room with it up couldn’t fix. They’d been through worse! Besides, that was an escape if ever there was one! Put that in the history books. They coped so much better than that clumsy bint that didn’t know what an arson was.

Alphecca stood up with a self-satisfied smile, popping the tape out of the player and heading into the employees only room to pick up their ‘bag of tricks’ - bag of tapes was more accurate, but magicians never reveal their secrets - and to continue their day. Probably spend some time elsewhere to dry off, they were chilled to the bone, but that implied that the local beach was anything but overcast on a given day. The jungle was warm, sure but forests after that, uh… no! Best chances were probably over in the District, given that rain was pretty rare. That meant they could see the friends over there, too!

#thorpe park oc #fic #theme park ocs #🖋️ } Beltrame's Writing #🎠 } Beltrame's Jesters #⛰️ } The Island Like No Other #👻 } The Island After Dark #🌲 } The Jungle #📼 } Trailers #📼 } Alphecca #cw arson #cw chasing #cw serial killer

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queenangst · 4 years

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Um.... if it isn’t too inconvenient, is ok for u to share your thoughts when you wrote Never shut? Thank you and sorry for the inconvenience!

it’s not an inconvenience at all. there’s no need to apologize. like with breathing room, Never Shut is just too long for me to go through the whole fic, so i’ll pick a scene!

it was difficult to pick (i would love to talk about aizawa saying oboro’s name), but i chose oboro being attacked by the nomu and then his first follow-up fight with aizawa.

The creature’s mouth opened. It shrieked. Red stained its maw. He realized dizzyingly, all in a rush, that it was his blood. That in moments it would be stained with the blood of his kids, of-

Oboro moved. He didn’t know what he was doing, driven by instinct and a distant rage that roared in his ears. He drove his staff forward screaming, but Oboro didn’t make it far.

Starting out with this description, hahaha. I just wanted to convey how scary the Nomu was, but also how protective Oboro is of his students. He’s very soft for kids, and he’s already attached to his class. (His kids.)

“No—”

Someone tackled him in a flurry of limbs. His shoulder wrenched back. He screamed. A thin, bony hand gripped his wrist. A curtain of long, dark hair fell around them, shadowing both of their faces.

“Let me- no!”

Oboro reached for his Quirk. Under the long trailing hair was a gaunt, scarred face; set into it was a pair of dark eyes that suddenly became awash with bright gold. And Oboro’s Quirk vanished like he was snatching at thin air.

In all of his years, Oboro had never known any other person with a nullification Quirk. Not since—

They were rare. As he reached for his Quirk and found it gone Oboro felt it begin to stir faint memories he’d tucked away. Oboro gritted his teeth.

Aizawa blocks Oboro. We get a hint of some of the descriptors assigned to Aizawa, that are just slightly off-putting and abnormal—a thin hand, the curtain of dark hair, his gaunt face, bright gold eyes.

And then Oboro’s Quirk disappears in the same moment that we meet him.

Oboro makes the immediate jump to Aizawa, but he stops himself mid-thought because it’s too painful and unfathomable. It hurts too much, especially to think about in a fight.

“You seem like you know how to have a good time,” Oboro gasped, trying to smile as a hand pressed down on his chest. The wrists looked all wrong and the arms were too thin, inhuman, but the villain pinned him with an unnatural strength. “Kill me while you’re at it, why don’t you?”

The villain didn’t say anything, but he did draw in a breath like he was going to speak. His eyes, still a brilliant gold, peered down at Oboro. He paused.

“What,” Oboro said, then broke into coughing. Pain exploded behind his eyes. Oboro kicked out only half-voluntarily as a hand curled into the front of his shirt and pulled upwards.

Commence a little ass-kicking. Unfortunately.

In the beginning, Oboro tries for a joke, trying to push Aizawa’s buttons, but he can’t get a rise out of him. Also continuing Aizawa’s description, implying that something has been done to him to make him different than the character we imagine.

Aizawa also pauses here, once he gets a good view of Oboro’s face.

There was a moment as Oboro stared up at the face of the villain—a long, deep scar stretching under one glowing eye, dark shadows pooling in the crevices. What unnerved Oboro the most was the lack of emotion. There was no anger, like in Shigaraki; there was no wicked, terrible smile. Just a dead, heavy stare that seemed to pin Oboro down more than the villain’s strength.

And those eyes…

If there was a color beneath the burning gold, Oboro couldn’t see it. Light overtook the irises of the eyes, turning them tawny and strange. Disconcerting. Oboro met those eyes; the villain didn’t blink once as his grip on Oboro tightened.

And here we get a little more description to round it all out. Overall in this scene with Aizawa’s introduction I really enjoyed how I wrote it. I wanted Aizawa to feel familiar and recognizable, but clearly different, having gone through something terrible.

The line about the lack of emotion and his eyes. Both of these are meant to draw attention, and to emphasize the idea that “something bad happened but you don’t know what.” Aizawa’s emotionless and basically reactionless save for what he’s ordered to do. Even though canon Aizawa may sometimes hide emotions, this Aizawa seems to feel nothing at all, and I think that’s one of the saddest parts of the fic.

While I don’t say it quite outright in this part, this is also one of the parts in the fic where I write about what was done to Aizawa; namely that his Quirk was enhanced, and that he doesn’t blink (because he can’t), removing a weakness of his Quirk which means he can activate his Quirk at will for a long period of uninterrupted time.

Then he slammed Oboro down. Oboro’s ears rang. Pain splintered up the left side of his head as he felt the ground crack beneath him. The dome above him, the dirt next to him—all of it swam out of focus.

The world was sideways. Someone called. Oboro couldn’t hear individual words, really, just sound echoing from somewhere. He saw a pair of legs running towards him, and forced his eyes upward. Midoriya.

The name cleaved through him like lighting. Oboro forced himself up, and the world burst back into focus.

Sensei, Midoriya was calling. Under the lights Oboro could see tears on his cheeks, but he ran forward instead of running away. To Midoriya’s left was the Nomu- the Nomu—

This fic isn’t all about Oboro and Aizawa, of course. This part shows Oboro’s dedication to his students and in this case to Izuku.

Oboro tried again. He didn’t know what he was doing, what desperate reserves he was drawing from. Oboro felt the cool rush of power sweep through him and almost wept in relief as the air dampened and clouds poured into every space he could manage. He reached Midoriya. Grabbed his student’s arm, even as an inhuman scream rang around them.

“Sensei—” Midoriya gasped, eyes shining, “sensei, you’re hurt, oh, God, sensei you’re bleeding, your arm—”

Oboro tried not to think about his shoulder, about the pain that was rendering his left arm useless. He pulled Midoriya close to him, pulled more clouds around them to shelter them, to hide them.

Quirk’s back! Just in time for Oboro to give them shelter using his clouds so they can start making an escape. This serves another purpose as well, which is to keep Aizawa from seeing them and erasing their Quirks again.

(Oboro’s arm might be a little wrecked. He and Izuku are arm buddies.)

“Midoriya,” he said, keeping his voice steady and low. “It’s alright, Midoriya.”

“That thing— the—”

Oboro moved his arm up and put it around Midoriya’s shoulders as they ran together, stumbling on the hard ground. His head pounded. He couldn’t imagine what he must look like to his student. Oboro could feel blood on the side of his face and soaking through his shirt, could feel his own fear like a tangible thing, a sharp knife out his back. But he summoned a smile.

I feel like this is a representation of the Oboro-that-could-have-been, which is to say how he is as a teacher. He cares deeply. He smiles. A little bit like All Might but maybe more personal, bright, reassuring for his students. Even when everything is falling apart around him.

send me your favorite scene/chapter from one of my works + i’ll write commentary on it!

#asks #never shut #commentary asks #ask games #anonymous #nomu aizawa #aizawa #annies writing qs

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