#static drabbles
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Sheepzun Posting~
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Luo Binghe was frustrated.
He'd left his Shizun behind on Qing Jing Peak to see what was happening. As his Shizun had noted, indeed, there was something amiss.
Demons infiltrated Cang Qiong Mountain.
He rushed forward toward Qiong Ding Peak since it seemed the demons intended to isolate those disciples the most. On the way, he slayed a few smaller demons, carefully using the techniques his Shizun instilled in him. After all, it was different to practice something and to actually use it.
Despite his inexperience combatting something so human-shaped, he was able to dispatch them fairly quickly. He had yet to strain a muscle as he continued on his way.
He eventually arrived at the main hall of Qiong Ding, a crowd of disciples from a few peaks struggling against the might of the main hoard of demons. Luo Binghe quickly jumped into the fray, saving one disciple from having his head bashed in. Several were already wounded, cornered and unable to escape.
Though he didn't have his spiritual sword yet, he did his best to beat back the incoming demons. These ones were larger than the imp-like demons before, just as tall or taller than his comrades and clearly more shrewd.
How dare they strike! These demons really were despicable!
But, as he kicked a demon back, a gust of wind suddenly began pressuring the demons' side. A flash of light flickered, and a familiar sword stabbed into another demon trying to kill a different disciple.
Before he could say anything, some of the Qing Jing disciples that arrived with or before him began calling out.
"It's Immortal Master Shen!"
"Martial Uncle Shen!!"
His...Shen Qingqiu landed gingerly on the ground, looking as unflappable as he always did, loftily looking down on others. His presence felt stronger than before, so he surely broke through at least one stage. It hadn't taken very long for him, despite the immortal not breaking through a realm since the time he became a disciple.
Luo Binghe's senses triggered, and he moved out of the way just in time to avoid Ming Fan rushing past him, relief extremely evident in his ecstatic expression. He watched as the boy spread his arms to present their master, grinning in the direction of the demons.
"Demon girl! My Shifu is already here, see you if you dare to be arrogant anymore!"
Finally, the tide returned to the side of righteous cultivation, the disciples no longer cornered as they all sidled up to Shen Qingqiu for support. Luo Binghe finally sheathed his sword once the sides were cleanly split, the demons on the defensive with the disciples and master now standing in the way of an easy exit.
And so, Luo Binghe made the mistake of thinking himself safe.
He was swiftly reminded he wasn't upon hearing the immortal master call his name to face the largest, most fearsome competitor of all three trials.
Shen Qingqiu wasn't aware that he'd been training with another teacher. That his Shizun was present on Qing Jing Peak. Or, if he was, he never said anything about it. Besides, few, if any, Qing Jing disciples were aware of Shizun's presence. He kept himself carefully concealed.
Regardless, Shen Qingqiu likely knew he was barely trained in Qing Jing's martial arts. After Shizun pointed out the uselessness of his cultivation manual, Luo Binghe could only assume this sabotage was intentional. And now, the immortal had him facing a demon that would be a struggle for some of Qing Jing's instructors to handle.
Did... Did Shen Qingqiu want him dead? Why?
But Luo Binghe didn't have the luxury of time to question the immortal's reasoning. Instead, he put his whole body into dodging the swing of the large demon's sledgehammer, watching as the ground cracked under the pressure of its collision.
Getting hit by that once, he could probably handle with a few injuries. Getting hit several times...
This was a fight to the death.
So, using everything he learned from hunting animals closer to the base of the mountain for food and from training with his Shizun, he sought to bring death upon his opponent. If he tried to do anything less, he'd die instead.
Fleeing would definitely be the best course of action here. But with everyone's eyes on him, he couldn't flee. He was cornered.
Dodging as much as possible, he looked for a gap in the elder demon's defenses, but it was all covered with that dastardly poisoned armor. If he could at least find the straps keeping it on him, he could, essentially, break the tortoise's shell.
He had to keep himself from becoming a splatter on the pavement first, though--
"Ughh!!"
Luo Binghe barely had time to prepare before the sledgehammer slammed into his side. He could immediately feel his arm bruise, but he leaned with the force pushing him, then helped the energy leave him by rolling, quickly returning to his feet.
'You don't have horns, so instead of confronting force head-on, you should try to lean with it. Help the energy escape so it doesn't act entirely on your body.'
It hurt, but he was still standing. With a dash, he avoided another slam from the sledgehammer.
However, his energy was starting to wane. Usually, a prey animal would have much more room to move and to find an escape. He could not escape, and so, it was a battle of stamina and interest. As long as he could keep moving and avoid death, he could wear down on the elder demon's patience, leading him to make mistakes...
But Luo Binghe had less stamina than his opponent.
He was starting to get hit more and more. Blood was crawling up his throat as he felt bruises purple under his clothes.
Panting, sweat dripped off his face. If he let himself hesitate for too long, he'd start to lose focus, his vision swimming. His heart beat frantically in his ears.
He could distantly hear the disciples behind him call his battle a one-sided beating, bemoaning his inevitable loss. The demons were starting to laugh and ridicule him, telling him to dance, dance, and dance more.
How frustrating...
How frustrating...
If he was to die here, it would not be the demons that killed him.
Shen Qingqiu... His blood would be on Shen Qingqiu's hands.
Although he had loosely clung to the idea that the immortal master would one day treat him like he was worth the same time and effort as any other Qing Jing disciple, at this moment, he finally laid those hopes to rest. Instead, heady resentment, barely held back by his reverence, began to burst through and cloud his mind.
The hammer was moving. He needed to dodge. He needed to--
A forceful voice interrupted his thoughts. It echoed in his mind like a gong, clearing out all the noise, save for that single line.
'Luo Binghe, you will win.'
...
Shizun?
That was definitely his Shizun's voice.
Then, that meant he was watching him. Somewhere behind him, his Shizun was watching over him, voicing his thoughts only to him.
And though he couldn't trust the words of anyone else, he could trust his Shizun.
He said he would win. That meant his Shizun truly believed that he would.
There came a warmth to his chest, spreading to his other limbs, enough that his eyes burned with the urge to cry tears of happiness. Oh... Oh how good it felt, for someone to believe in him despite all odds! To care about him!
It was all he had ever wanted from anyone, and it was something his Shizun gave him so freely.
But now was not the time to cry.
A cool calmness washed over him from his head to his feet. His once wavering vision focused as he managed, barely, to dodge the swing coming at him, leaning backwards before flipping, landing back onto his feet.
His body ached. He turned his head to spit out loose blood before licking his teeth. He was against an opponent with decades of experience on him. The demons were still cheering for his demise, for him to lose. Shen Qingqiu was still waiting for him to mess up and perish.
But he would win.
His Shizun commanded it.
---
There was a shift in the energy around the battle.
It started slowly, with the demons continuing to jeer at Cang Qiong for their inevitable defeat.
But then, Elder Tian Chui's hammer missed again.
And again. And again. And again.
The disciples, once disheartened and restless, began to perk up.
Luo Binghe dodged another swing, his gaze strong and serene. It was as though he simply moved out of the way, like dodging a mere stick instead of a hammer. At one point, he merely tilted his head a few scant cun away as the hammer's head passed it. It didn't even scratch his ear before he twisted away.
At this, the demons began going silent, and like before, the tide returned to the cultivators of Cang Qiong, and instead of mourning a loss that had yet to happen, they began cheering for a victory they could now see in the horizon.
Frustration began to color Elder Tian Chui's movements as he struggled to hit the boy. But Luo Binghe carefully avoided each swipe, looking for a good opening.
Everyone could see that the elder was completely covered in spiked armor, save for his face and fists. No one was sure how Luo Binghe could combat that, but his newfound confidence influenced those watching.
Even Sha Hualing began watching the cultivator boy closer, humming under her breath as she inspected him. This little bud could prove very troublesome in the future if allowed to grow. Unless Elder Tian Chui ended him here, she'd need to employ some more subtle tactics.
Luo Binghe avoided another swing, but then he stood firm, bearing his sword.
Had he found it? An opening? But no one could see it anywhere!
Enraged, the demon elder held his hammer firmly and thrust it forward with a bellow.
But, much to everyone's surprise, instead of dodging, Luo Binghe's qi began to flow off of his skin. Then, it disappeared, condensing into his sword--not even a spiritual sword, but one intended for training.
A flicker of light appeared at the tip, and the tip of the sword and eye of the hammer collided.
A beat of silence. Then, like lightning, Luo Binghe's qi shot through the hammer's eye, up the handle and grip, and burst into the meridians in Elder Tian Chui's hand, up his arms.
The clear, whitish blue qi polluted his meridians and cracked through them.
Elder Tian Chui, who had several hundreds of years of cultivation, cried out in pain as the meridians in his hands stung, like thousands of bees and hornets stinging him from the inside. The pain was enough for him to drop his hammer, much to the shock of the demons behind him.
Although Luo Binghe's sword now had a prominent dent in the tip, he still ran forward, gathering qi around him. He swung his sword toward the elder's other hand, slashing through the skin of his knuckles as more painful qi found and bled into him.
Luo Binghe swiftly backed away as the demon cried out again.
From his short move forward, he was able to see the slight gaps in the armor.
From then on, instead of a mouse facing a cat, a snake was circling a pheasant it had already poisoned.
With careful slashes and stalking, Luo Binghe cut the straps keeping much of the armor on his body. Cut by cut, Elder Tian Chui's vambraces and greaves fell to the ground, leaving his arms and legs exposed to the open air.
Luo Binghe didn't waste a single moment, slashing incessantly at the demon as he channeled more painful spiritual qi into his demonic body.
Finally, he gathered his qi into his left hand and, with a burst, shot it at the demon's chest. It flew forward, then exploded right in front of him.
The elder demon cried out once more, then fell onto his back, disarmed and almost fully disrobed. His helmet fell off his head, rolling on the ground.
For a few moments, both the demons and disciples went quiet.
Then, Cang Qiong's side began an uproarious applause!!
Amazing! They just witnessed something one would never see in hundreds of years! A single disciple, not even the head disciple, managed to win against an elder demon with hundreds of years of cultivation under his belt!
Qiong Ding disciples ran up to him first, applauding his success and praising his technique as Luo Binghe's adrenaline finally calmed. He took their praise in stride, though he seemed to look a bit out of place, like he was unsure of what to do about them. Instead, he was looking around as though in search of someone.
Of course, most would assume he was looking for his Shifu, so one disciple pointed in his direction, Luo Binghe looking over.
Shen Qingqiu's expression was outwardly impassive, but now, the boy could see the underlying rage in his darkened eyes. The spine of his fan was cracked from the force of his clenched fist.
Luo Binghe looked away, still searching for someone else as the cheering increased.
A little further off, Liu Mingyan gazed at Luo Binghe with a mix of awe and envy. Neither of them had their spiritual swords, but Luo Binghe's results were so much more outstanding than her own. She quietly decided that he could potentially make for a good rival, someone to look to in order to improve her own cultivation. She'd have to look out and encounter him more often, if only to see what he did to train.
Sha Hualing's opinion that she couldn't leave the boy alone did shift, though it was mixed with anger at the situation. Of course, this 'Luo Binghe' was quite powerful and handsome. If only he wasn't a cultivator... But perhaps there was something more behind his power. She'd need to investigate it, and she knew just the demon to consult.
But first and foremost...
“...The Central Plains people of the Human Realm have talents as expected, for such a young hero to come out. Ling-er really admires," she pleasantly gritted out, her gaze sharp.
Shen Qingqiu turned toward her with a scoff, eyes narrowed.
"We've accommodated your tryst and tolerated your unannounced presence for quite some time now, Young Miss. You would be wise to withdraw, since we were so underprepared to facilitate your family's curiosity. Surely it's been sated, and you all have learned well."
The disciples, drunk on victory, jeered at the demons, Sha Hualing's eye resisting the urge to twitch.
Eventually, she gave in. However, it was clear that her demons were outmatched. Unless the tides turned once more, they were going to return empty-handed. And that was if they could return at all. Surely the disciples were upset at their visit and the injuries they wrought on the sect. Now believing they could win, they would surely be out for blood!
This all should've worked out, if not for...
Sha Hualing finally chose where to direct her anger, grabbing Elder Tian Chui's hair as he sat up, wounded and bleeding sluggishly from many cuts. With his hair in her firm grasp, she smacked him across his bare face several times.
“To lose to such a young disciple under Elder Shen in a fight and in such an ugly manner! You’ve lost face for all demons!”
"This one is incompetent!" the elder cried out, interrupted by the scratch of her nails across his cheek. "Begging the saintess for punishment!"
"Wretched cur! To think you would humiliate us like this! How dare you call yourself an elder!"
"Begging Saintess for punishment!!"
Shen Qingqiu sniffed at the display, fanning himself leisurely.
"This master finds your behavior incredibly uncultured, Young Miss. If you wish to discipline your subordinates, do so off our esteemed mountain. You all have long overstayed your welcome."
After a few more biting words, Sha Hualing did an about-face, forcing herself to smile. "Elder Shen's words are right. This Ling-er lost herself for a moment after seeing the inexplicable talent of your sect's young gentleman, comparing him to the waste under her own command. Elder Shen, please excuse this one."
She turned her back to them, her expression chilled as ice as she stared down at the dishonored elder.
"Elder Du Bi fighting and losing to Elder Shen is a matter of course. For you to also lose your trial, against a sect disciple no less... You don't need me to say anymore. See to yourself."
Elder Tian Chui understood her order immediately, feeling his heart sink. This invasion was only supposed to be a time for them to rough up and kill a few cultivators, humiliating them for their own honor.
But now, he was the one humiliated, the only one who truly lost against Cang Qiong Mountain Sect. But it wasn't against Immortal Master Shen. No, it was against that little doll of a boy who he beat around until he spat up blood! But instead of ending the play, he was the one on the ground instead!
Malice fueled him, pushing through the pain still tingling in his limbs from the spiritual qi that polluted them. while he was mostly disarmed, he still had his breastplate, the spikes coated in Without A Cure.
That little weedling... He'd see the end to him today!
He moved as though he was going to kneel in shame, watching that curly-haired human boy stop looking around, surrounded by his peers as they inquired about his health.
Instead, he steadied himself, grabbing his hammer.
Then, with a burst of physical power, he shot up, running full-tilt toward the boy. His arms raised, his hammer prepared to strike, as he bellowed with all the fury he felt in his heart!
Luo Binghe had calmed down, fatigue bleeding into his body, so his senses had uncharacteristically dulled. As such, he was somewhat sluggish when he heard the incoming demon, looking up too late as he approached. The disciples, once around him and praising him, quickly scattered, leaving him standing alone as his vision blurred with exhaustion.
'Ah...' he thought, 'Shizun did tell me about this, didn't he...'
The pain shooting through the elder demon was too much, causing him to stumble. He was going to fall too quickly for Without A Cure to make contact with the boy. But it was clear he was dazed! His hammer would complete the job for him!
He would be well worth his own name!
As though time slowed, the demon's hammer approaches the top of Luo Binghe's head.
But before it reached, some invisible thing rushed forward, shoving disciples aside.
Its body was a blur as the qi obfuscating its appearance and presence diminish.
Its head was low, an ivory white coming into view, as the smell of fields and grass emanated from it.
Then, it pushed its front legs of the ground, its head high. The curled horns attached to its skull slamed against the incoming sledgehammer.
Instead of the hammer continuing its downward motion, it yanked up so quickly, it was as though a rope was attached to it, the other end hidden somewhere in the heavens. The sudden move stretched the demon's arm to its limits, delaying his fall.
There was a sharp crack, a pop, unlike anything those present had ever heard before.
A moment later, the sledgehammer, from its face to its handle, wavered--
Then shattered like glass.
Only the grip remained, which Elder Tian Chui clung to as he finally fell chest-first on the ground.
His right arm...the bones in it felt wrong. Were they...broken?
Broken from the vibrations the grip of his hammer couldn't withstand?
His left hand, which had let go, bleeding from his poor grip before, helped him as he tried to look up.
A ram stared back at him.
But it wasn't like any ram he'd seen before.
Its gleaming eyes focused on him, horns curled and vicious, without a single crack. Wavy wool, more akin to hair than cotton, hung off its body, similar to a yak. A single red spot stood out on the ram's forehead.
The sheep began stepping backward, but from the focus on him, the demon could tell it wasn't to retreat.
"Wh-Wha--"
Before he could say what he wanted, the ram rose up on its back legs, stepping forward with its front ones bent.
Step, step, step, step--
Just as Elder Tian Chui attempted to speak, the ram's steps shifted into a thrust, its horns angled downwards.
The ram's head collided with the demon elder's.
With it, a flash of spiritual qi--
And a burst of red.
#sheepzun au#svsss#svsss au#static writes#static drabbles#au post 6#it's a dog-eat-dog world after all
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Tendou recalls when he realized he had fallen in love with you.
It didn’t start off as a romance, and it wasn’t even a friendship either but he does recall the first time he ever saw you. It was a hot summer morning when you first walked into the door of his dainty cafe accompanied by the soft chime of the bell, the first time you have walked into his life.
It was odd that you struck him so much at first glance. He wasn’t exactly looking for love at that time, but he knows for sure that he wants to fall in love at some point in his life. One that he often reads in his shoujo mangas, he had always been curious if falling in love would be something like that. If it would be as euphoric as the stories and movies he has seen.
You became a regular customer since then. He had never known that his thoughts could be too sweet like the chocolates he makes. He never wanted to be near to you but he always deeply regret the moments he could have been close to you or the moments he could have talked to you. He always struggled to compose himself in your presence and his heart could beat so fast like a parade of soldiers on a marching spree.
He vividly remembers the first time you made a conversation with him. You are kind, he thinks. It was a mundane question, something along the lines of what was his favorite on the menu. Because apparently, you haven’t tried everything on their menu yet.
Since then, you would ask what he could recommend on their menu and it wasn’t the same vanilla latte you would buy every day. And since then he has found himself making something special just for you.
You started making conversations with him, about how irritating one of your professors are to how you were always on the run to catch the train just not to miss a class.
And he always listens, and he never interrupts.
And sometimes he wonders if you also talk about these things to someone else. If there’s someone who’s also this eager to hear your stories.
He never had the guts to ask for your number, but he was able to get your name at least. You call him Tendou, and sometimes he would wish you call him by his first name.
It’s one of those really slow days where there aren’t really many customers that come in, but that always changes everything once his favorite customer has arrived. He gave your order and he was ready to see you off already when you suddenly spoke to him.
“Who is responsible for the music here?” You ask, and he turns to you.
“Oh, that would be me too,” Tendou replies with a smile.
“For real?”
“I have always loved the music that plays here, one of the reasons I kept on coming back here aside from the food,” you chuckle.
“I guess we have the same music taste then,” he quips as he props his arms on the counter.
“I have always wanted to talk to that person,” you tell him.
“I think I kind of have a tiny crush on him,” you trail off.
“Just tiny?” he inquires.
And you laugh, your laugh that soothes his mind and lightens his day.
The truth is he hates summer, but that one summer morning changed everything.
He does not like the muggy, sticky, claustrophobic, hot days. He does not like the bugs that buzz and bite and the insect repellent at night, but he’s willing to spend his entire life with every season of you.
#im supposed to be working on my statics homework but inspiration suddenly visited me : D#haikyuu fluff#hq fluff#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu imagines#hq imagines#haikyuu drabble#hq drabble#tendou satori fluff#tendou fluff#tendou satori x reader#tendou x reader#tendou satori imagines#tendou imagines#haikyuu scenarios#hq scenarios#mai.works
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I had a thought that cracked me up for no reason
Darling after fixing something up: oh what would you do without me lol
Static, increasingly nervous: ahahaha…. Why, where are you going??
"Static! I fixed the tv!"
Putting away the tools, you hear the calamity taking place in the further reaches of the house as the humanoid creature scrambles towards it destination. The woodboards whine as their body drops from above; a new line of decorative claw marks punctured into the ceiling. Static fiddles with the nobs of the television; their usual clicks and pops resonate in tune with their excitement as they take in new media. You chuckle as you close the lid to the box.
"What would you do without me?"
Static's whips their head in your direction; trance broken by your harmless comment. The static in their eyes bounces wildly; head tilting back and forth to indicate they were looking you up and down. What would they do without you? Be in pain, of course - but you weren't leaving, right?
Static grabs your arm, dragging you down to the pool of shaggy carpeting as they enfold you to chest with their extended limbs. Their tangled hair draps in front of your face; your ear near their throat as a whine gurls through their wired lips. Electricity pops in the air as they start at the tv, your hairs standing on end and legs recieving a small shock whenever you attempt to strech them out.
A gutted cry bellows through the television's inferior speakers. The screen shows a man sobbing over the loss of his beloved. He cradles what reminded him most of them to his chest as he wails; face crimson and eyes swollen shut. The scene changes. Someone running through a empty street, calling the name of someone no longer in their life. Tears pool in their eyes as the name is torn from their broken voice; the drops falling as they fall to their knees.
A few more clips play; all ending in sorrow. Static's body shakes harder with each new scene; holding you tighter and rubbing their damp cheek against your scalp. You look up at them as they nudge your cheek to get your attention. They point to their eye, bringing their finger from tearduct to chin as they lock gaze with you.
"Cry..."
"Static- I'm not going anywhere, it's just a figure of speech."
You hug the creature, lulled into blissful unawareness of the bloodshed that had taken over the screen by their gentle purrs.
#Static my oc#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere insert#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere blurb#yandere teratophilia#yandere monster#yandere x darling#yandere drabble#yandere x y/n#soft yandere#yandere fluff
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"What do you dream about?" Demeter asked, staring intently her acquaintance. And that's what Alonzo had become, she supposed, in the stretches of time the queen was left to her own devices since coming to Macavity's domain: an acquaintance. Maybe Demeter would go so far as to call him a companion - an associate in misery. Better than the "co-worker" that he'd sarcastically thrown out when another henchcat was snagged sniffing too close around her. That one had...annoyed her.
Regardless of what he was, it had become enough of something that Demeter found herself passing her thoughts through him; practically or otherwise. Almost like she cared about his response.
"Me?" Alonzo remarked lightly, too quickly to have been fully thought out. "I don't think I've had a dream in maybe five years." He sounded his usual nonchalant, but the queen heard the tonal change- the deflated flattening of words as he avoided looking her in the eye. Demeter had noted that all over - how cats would quickly avert their eyes at the first sign of disagreement or mistake. The Palace's equivalent, she thought, of showing one's belly in submission...regret, perhaps. Strange.
The queen bit her lip, confused by the tom's words, feeling the hair on her neck stand to attention. That is to say, Demeter's dreams had started blurring into emptiness - a recent and rather startling change that warned of something foreboding she had been hoping she was wrong about, and that'd not at all been the reassuring answer she was looking for. "What do you mean?"
"They, uh…kind of stop around here." Alonzo blinked a few times, as though considering what he'd admitted to her and regretting it instantly. His tail paused its twitching, and Demeter was suddenly very aware of how heavy the air was around them. The base of her spine was suddenly alight, claws digging deeper. "Or maybe," he continued, hasty. "I just don't remember what they were about."
An odd ringing swelled in Demeter's ear. Then nothing.
Now Alonzo is staring at her, brow furrowed, looking wary in a way she couldn't put her paw on. The general stony expression had slipped fully open for a brief moment, pained and frightened, before being carefully smoothed away again. "Why do you ask?"
Demeter caught her tongue between her teeth, considering the truth, but a whisper inside her pushed the thought aside, gently and carefully, like tucking a newborn under a blanket before smothering it.
"No reason," she murmured instead, charming and avoidant in the way that had rarely failed her in life thus far. She pushed herself comfortably into a lie instead. "Just curious. Mine have been rather...odd."
Odd. Sure. Better than nothing.
Alonzo didn't believe her for a second.
#idk what this is but it goes along with i am writing stupid little drabbles to satisfy my need for content#if you want context i have a handful of posts indicating that macavity essentially drowns his minions in static#slowly and carefully - to make them more willing to do what he says#and the cats just learn to shut that shit down if you don't want macavity firmly in your subconcious#not like you have much of a choice - the shells the cats become because of it also work#Demeter#Alonzo#demlonzo#my fanfic#fanfiction#i promise i will write something substantial again i have just been dead
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I would make smaus of I were funny I swear
#✶ ─ radio static#my humour is not smau humour#every time I read an smau I'm reminded that I should stick to writing silly little romance fics because I could never 😭#headcannons and short drabbles are for me#I'll try and see if I come up with something because they seem so fun to make 😭#maybe some bf texts#i came to this realisation very late because heart and lost in translation 💀 they are staring at me...
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there is SUCH a dichotomy between the persona modernverse ren plays up on his streams ( and social media ) and his actual self. that isn't to say there's not some degree of overlap — because there is. his sharp tongue, his blunt personality, his sense of humor. you're inevitably going to put up with all three regardless of whether you're dealing with him in person or behind a screen. but when he streams, ren's sole goal above all else is the VALIDATION of his viewers. he wants attention — he wants approval. ( and yes, it is super unhealthy! thanks for asking! ) so the version of himself that he shows, while still quite bratty, is purposefully geared towards being more palatable. prioritizing entertainment over displaying the full extent of his raw, ugly emotions. and that isn't even touching on to what degree he objectifies himself — because he knows he's attractive, and he knows he can use that to garner more attention, more money, more followers.
this is in contrast to the version of ren completely detached from his fake internet persona. he's much, MUCH more subdued by comparison — still as snarky as ever, though in a far less glamorized way. ( not so much for entertainment as he is lashing out like a wounded animal. ) he's quiet; oft speaking in short, curt phrases. what energy he has comes in fleeting bursts. depression and insomnia leave him with a near-permanent sense of lingering EXHAUSTION, even if he hasn't done much to warrant it. he isn't shy, but he definitely gives off the impression of someone deeply uncomfortable in whatever social situation he's found himself forced into at any given moment — and that isn't when he's not just purposefully vanishing into the background. your local introvert wants to go home now.
his intense discomfort in public is compounded by the fact that he spent the better part of two years hardly ever leaving his apartment after the au's version of tatarasuna more or less stripped away nearly every loved one he had. it's taken another two before he's been able to start going outside again, even in small bursts.
understandably, it's just a bit jarring to see one side of him when you're only familiar with the other. a living CONTRADICTION — though he admittedly is in most verses.
#𝟎𝟎𝟒 : 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥. ◟ hc .◝#𝟎𝟏𝟕 : 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘳𝘺. ◟ v. modern .◝#( spence's drabble got me thinking DSKJS )#( because there is a difference between ren on social media & ren in private when he isn't putting on an act for an audience )#( i'd imagine there's a bit of a gray area in the group chats where he puts in a little more effort to be chatty bc he's with friends )#( but in person he's pretty quiet. )#( one day i'll elaborate on the two years of mental tv static )#( i know i said before modern ren has less trauma than mainverse / canon ren which is definitely very true )#( but i also think in some regards that's made him less well-equipped to handle it because what does hurt him hurts much more )#( man desperately wants to be loved & self destructs over it: now with a wifi connection )
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//Sorry, I need to disappear for a while.
#nothin’ but static ( ooc )#I would say I'd like to RP on discord but#i'm hardly on there either#I'll just queue my drabbles or something
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the first time Thalín found out that his time was cut short, it left him breathless. like his heart had stopped all together. it was like a blow to the stomach, but the pain kept growing long after the air came back into his lungs.
he tried to be reasonable. 'I would have died sooner. Slower,' he told himself. at least now he had time. but thirty years felt like a dirty trick when his ancestors had once lived eternally.
Thalín cycled through acceptance, bitterness, and gratefulness the first few months. until he one day woke and lay his eyes on the folks he had begun to know as friends. 'This ... this is something I can live for.'
and after a year of toiling. of playing the game of shemlen and rising to heights he had never thought possible, he was flung down from up high and shattered.
just as it all felt like it was coming together. just when he felt like he could see the end in sight; where he could see a time beyond the Blight, beyond war and peril. a time in the future where he might get to enjoy the years he had left.
but then Riordan's words fell like a hammer upon the fragile notion of time Thalín thought he had. distantly he saw the irony. both sides of his story, book-ended in tragedy, in the promise, the surety, of death. how ironic it was, this all started with the shattering of a mirror and would likely end with the destruction of his soul.
he no longer had years, but days. how heavy the world felt on his shoulders now that he knew he would never live to grow beyond the battle ahead. the weight nearly toppled him on the spot.
Thalín broke. he stood bravely in the presence of his brothers, who were also coming to terms with what the coming battle meant for their small order. stalwart and enduring as he had always been. Thalín knew he would be the one to strike the final blow.
it was all he could do to hold himself together as he walked the hallway to his quarters. the final night before the march to denerim.
the moment the door closed behind the him, the elf fell to the floor and shook apart. he wept. he begged, he gripped his lover's strong arms and asked him in sobs, 'Why? Why are we always made into pieces on their board. Why must I be the one to always die.'
there had never been a good answer. and the pain-contorted face of his partner told him so.
he held tight to the front of Zevran's shirt, fists balled into the material and pleaded with him, pulling him close with the desperation of a man on death's doorstep.
rough, agile hands, made for killing and ending; but he did not chose this. he had only wanted the woods and the rivers and the land. to use his strength for traveling with his kin. 'It's not fair, I never wanted this,' he cried in ragged breaths, knowing his words sounded childish and wasteful against the ticking of the clock.
there was no choice, he knew it must be so, but for this moment he wanted it to be screamed from the rafters, so that at least one person knew before his end. so at least someone heard he had wanted more than this. had dreams and hopes and wished for life beyond this bloody fight he was made to wage.
Thalín knew he would rise in the morning and walk the path that was destined for him. he would do so to save all he loved. it wasn't his choice to be here, but he would see it through until the end so that they would live another day. he held Zevran's hand to his face as it soaked in his tears and looked at him with river-blue eyes full of longing for time they would never have.
'I would do this for you. I would do this all again just to save each other.' Thalín's heart shredded but repaired by the whispered wishes of things that would never be. places they would never go, things they would never do. but at least here and now, tucked beneath Zevran's chin and resting against his chest, he could close his eyes and imagine what might have been.
#[static]#oc: thalin#da#da:o#dragon age#oc drabbles#this was meant to be super short but then i got to thinking about how many times this poor man was told he was going to die#when thalin calms down zevran tells him of morrigan's plan thinking that it will be outright rejected#had wanted to hold him and have these moments together but thought himself selfish to bring it up and is surprised#when thalin agrees but only if he can be sure the child will not be harmed he does not want to have another suffer his fate#thalin lives and him and zevran live happily ever after married!!!!!
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Thread By Thread
An omium lay desolate and isolated, sectioned off by security detail. Helix Security had mad a lot of effort to make sure no one could enter any of the still-standing omniums after the incident that destroyed a portion of the Australian outback. Most people never entered the complex, leaving it susceptible to damage from neglect and pests. Some omniums that had managed to evade detection before the end of the crisis became dusty and overgrown, causing a hazard for the fusion cores a few still had. So, perhaps, this fate where it was guarded was preferable. They always made sure at least the core was stable. They had learned their lesson, after all. They knew it wasn't something to be messed with.
A skittering sound bounced from the walls and through the sharp geometric architecture deep within the omnium, past swathes of security personnel. It stopped and was followed by a series of high-pitched clicks. Another set of clicks and mechanical squeaks came from a small distance away of it. As if in response, a lower series of clicks and thrumming echoed after it. It was soft, like a whisper, compared to the others. As soon as it was done, the other also weakened their tones.
Two small slicers vacated the room with a few quadrupedal units with a single arm attachment in tow.
It went quiet again, only for the silence to be cut through with a buzzing. Light flickered from the entrance. It continued, sometimes interrupted, sometimes accompanied by small clicks or creaks.
Eventually, the tapping of metal on metal announced the return on the small omnic units. Their pitter-patter triggered a brief pause in activity within the room. After a small low machine hum, it continued. The quadrupeds carried thick metal cords and tubes in their clamps. A segmented metal tendril reached out to the units and rapped into the loop of cord one of them held. It let go and allowed the tendril to carry the bundle away.
The tendril traveled all the way to the other end of the room, where Setesh lay half on their back. Their long neck twisted and they poked their head out from under a set of metal tubes, large optics scanning over the wires, examining them. Setesh looked to the small unit that brought it in and spoke to it in the low clicks that went through the halls previously. "Good," they had said, in their own strange machine language. The quadrupedal unit wiggled briefly from side-to-side as a mimicry of an excited pup once addressed.
Setesh returned to their work, moving the coil of wires and their head under the large structure they were working on. Several wires hung over their face, sparking slightly, hanging loosely. Chewed through by rodents, perhaps. Many rat nests had to be eradicated when they arrived, after all. It wasn't like Helix Security cared to look after this marvel of technology. To them, it was merely a machine, a monster, a harbinger of destruction. The omnium had done nothing but protect itself and the omnics were no more than its only form of defense. Human soldiers never bothered to consider why a machine instructed to do something would do anything in its power to continue what it was constructed to do. It was a basic discussion in AI for decades and yet... Now it sat there, dormant, stuck in a virtual environment where it could enact its purpose for quarantine.
Uncoiling the cords, Setesh began to measure how much of these they'd need to replace parts of the thick wires above them. They spoke to a unit again and it trotted off to an end of the room. After some work, the sparks of the wires Set was under ceased. They moved one hand to hold the wires in place and the other to cut it. They took out a section and placed it to the side. Two more arms folded out from the underside of their chest plate. They took a section of the metal cord they'd been brought and held it in the additional hands, allowing them to carefully cut and shape the cord. Strings of superheated hard light flowed out of their palms and moved with the motion of their fingers. It pulled at the metal, bending and twisting it until it was the same length and shape as the piece of wire Setesh had removed.
They took it between their fingers after allowing it to harden and examined it once again before placing it in the space they had made in the wiring. The fingers of one hand folded out and back, making room for the element in their palm to be more visible. They held the wire still and a small buzzing sound came from the bit in their palm as they nearly touched it to the wire and a bright blue light shined from it. They did the same on the other end.
Now it just needed a protective covering...
Setesh glances at the palms of their hands, the hard light generator bits still visible. It shouldn't be too complex of a shape to perform. They looked at the newly placed wire and contemplated for a few moments. Eventually, fine strings of hard light formed from their palms again and they latched the ends of each on what still remained of the original wire covering. One-ove-another, they wove the threads together, in a lattice structure until tightened together like a reinforced sheet of fabric with a transparent blue sheen.
Staring at the results, Setesh couldn't help but be somehow surprised. They had heard of the exploits of the Vishkar's hard light technology, Maximilien had done a wonderful job of selling it to them when he attempted to convince them to join him, but they hadn't yet taken quite this approach to it. This tool was meant for construction and yet they had adapted it to destroy. They only used it in construction for minor matters or temporary repairs. This was more permanent, slightly more grand in scale, more complex. And yet, it was extremely familiar.
It was quick. It was...easy.
It was almost like that which they had already been made to do.
They looked at their hands again. One of the slicers squeezed its way next to Setesh's head and gently poked their plates. It shuffled back out and waited for Setesh to follow. The slid back and sat up, looking down at the little mechanical creature.
It emitted a croak in a rough and unwelcoming tone and hopped, spinning into another direction and walking off.
"Ah...."
Damage detected. What more did this omnium need fixed? Maybe, their creator would appreciate more than mere repairs. Perhaps, it could use a little upgrade. It won't be the shimmering jewel of Oasis, but it would be an improvement, it could be a step towards it.
#ic: setesh#drabble#drabble: setesh#long post#take my mother's day mind vomit#set is taking care of their parent even if its an unliving unintelligent being kept in a virtual reality coma that sent them out to war#set forgives it bc they would have done the same if they had been a simple-minded static unit put under direct threat by outside forces#also it's the human's fault for automatic the factory process and not remembering runaway AI routines now it can't stop it's previous promp#Even if it wasn't out of care it gave them life even if this life sucks they had a chance to awaken and can now choose how they live it#and that is greater to them than any gift and they are returning the favor by keeping it in good shape#also... if omniums work on the same systems as omnics... does that mean aurora's sacrifice could have realistically affected omniums#that's right i was thinking about stuff again omniums COULD have awoken but blizz won't dare to do that because it complicates things#Set vc: Let my omnium wake up and live to be a sanctuary for my people#Naj: What about the humans? I don't think they'd like that going by what happened in-#Set: FUCK them humans!#Naj: What if we move it to Mars or the moon though? You know? A mass omnic exodus.#Set: !!!#stone by stone? thread by thread. Yeah I stole that title from the Sym thing#yeah i am listening to love power from disenchanted again#anyway enjoy my countless mistakes bc I am not proofreading this
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Hey yo, time for a dose of Sheepzun :3
----
Shen Yuan snuck his way further onto Qiong Ding Peak in search of his student. He rammed a few demons along the way, leaving them laying about in his search. Which, yes, he was leaving a mess, but he didn't have opposable thumbs to clean up after himself and he's kinda busy right now!
After some searching, he heard some wild commotion. It looked to be coming from the central platform of Qiong Ding, right in front of the main hall. Who would attack the main hall first except for some show-off, ah? If you want to infiltrate, start from the corners and bleed inwards so the main brass doesn't notice until it's too late! That's the kind of method that works best in this dog-eat-dog world!
Regardless, he kept himself concealed as he approached, noting that most of the disciples, as expected, wore Qiong Ding Peak colors. A smattered few wore Qing Jing Peak ones, with only a dotted minority wearing those of other peaks. When his ears flicked backwards, he heard a few more Qing Jing Peak disciples on their way.
Ah, interrupting the demons in their effort to break the bridge was a good idea! Perhaps Qing Jing could protect these lambs while waiting for more powerful backup. However, Qing Jing Peak didn't have many disciples, right? If it was one of the other peaks, there'd be more backup...but, of course, they'd mostly be lambs.
Where were the instructors, ah?? Their cultivation should be better than these little ones!
Frustrations aside, Shen Yuan snuck around the back of the crowd, easing his way toward the front. He had to be careful several times to avoid rushing disciples, keeping them from knocking into him or his horns.
Eventually, he made it near the front, only to see...dancing?
No, it was a battle. But it looked more like dancing to him than expected. Their fighting was elegant in a way, but it wasn't the sort of bloody event he'd been expecting between an immortal and a demon. Though, perhaps that had to do with the immortal's lack of spiritual sword. She must be of Luo Binghe's generation, some of whom haven't received their swords yet.
As such, her sword didn't ring with powerful energy, and as Shen Yuan watched, he saw her make a few mistakes. She overextended her arm at times, spun a little too loosely, just minute errors. But they built up, resulting in her loss once the demoness she battled struck her arm and chest.
After she picked herself up from the ground, she walked over to a lofty immortal who was leisurely fanning himself and--
Ah! Wasn't that one of the immortal lords he'd rescued in the cave? He was well! How wonderful!
Indeed, his colors were clearly Qing Jing, and he'd managed to clean himself up quite well. Perhaps he'd been cultivating in a different cave before finding the other...err...the pretty one. Yeah. Shen Yuan looked around briefly, realizing he couldn't see him anywhere. Maybe he was still recovering? He couldn't imagine it took that long, but he's a ram. Maybe it worked differently for humans.
Anyway, this guy, in his silver hair crown, fanning himself leisurely, was clearly some sort of immortal master. And he'd saved this guy's life? Perhaps he had some golden thighs to cling to after all!
...Eh? What a strange thought he just had. What 'golden thighs'?
"This disciple has lost and disgraced the mission, I request that Martial Uncle Shen punish me."
Punishment? No, she didn't deserve any sort of punishment. She'd done her best all things considered. Instead, she needed to learn the places she could've done better and continue her educa--
The immortal huffed, dismissing her with the wave of his fan, his expression curled in derision. The veiled girl managed a respectful bow despite her injured arm, then joined the gaggle of other girls in purple garb much like her own.
?
???
???
What an asshole???
Excuse me, Mr. Immortal, this ram had to save you in the caves! Where do you get off on acting like that little lamb was bothering you with her earnest attempt? Aren't you something of a teacher? Shouldn't you use this as an opportunity for her to learn?!
This Shen guy--
...Shen.
As in, Shen Qingqiu?
The demoness who won against the veiled girl smiled coquettishly, her body loosely covered in red bolts of fabric. So much skin, there was little left to the imagination. Ah, but Shen Yuan didn't think too much of that. As it was, his tail and wool were all that maintained his decency, in the humanoid sense, anyway. He would not be a pot berating a kettle.
Rouged lips parted to show bright teeth, canines a tad too sharp to be strictly human.
"This third trial will determine the victory! Who will you send up for the next trial, Elder Shen? This time, you had better choose carefully."
Agh, it really was Shen Qingqiu, wasn't it?
This lofty immortal with no teaching ability, this man was his Bing-lamb's human shizun? What a waste of a handsome face!
Ah, no, he should wait. It wouldn't be right to judge someone so quickly. After all, that immortal had been trying to help his pretty comrade in the caves, only for his messed up meridians to hinder him. If anything, the fact he's cultivated up to a core formation shows his dedication to the craft. Indeed, perhaps this man was simply somewhat cagey.
When the man spoke, a handsome, if not snide, voice rang out.
"No need for the Young Miss to trouble herself. This Shen has a person in mind."
Oof, he's definitely cagey. And quite apt at insults.
The young miss in question called out for a warrior on her side to come forth for what was apparently the third trial. So, there had been a battle beforehand? Who had fought?
But Shen Yuan's thoughts quickly became distracted when the ground below him shook. He moved out of the way as disciples around him shook and clustered in closer, clearly feeling some fear.
Not that Shen Yuan would blame them, considering the one that stepped out!
The huge demon elder was definitely some sort of giant! At least ten zhang tall, with a thick, hefty build, wearing thorny armor all over his body, he dragged an equally-large sledgehammer behind him. A toothy grin peered out from behind his shaggy hair and helmet.
The demoness in red spread her arms in display.
"I'll give everyone on this immortal mountain a warning first. The spikes on Elder Tian Chui's armor are covered with my family's strongest poison. This kind of poison has no effect on demons, but if a human is pierced, there is no cure."
...Excuse me, Young Miss?
Why would you bring an incurable poison to an immortal's mountain unless you meant to murder? Why bother playing around and fighting three rounds when the last one clearly shows your intent? What kind of infiltration is this?!
Also, Tian Chui?! Was this elder born carrying his sledgehammer the entire time?!! Did his mother look down at his body and say, "Dear demon child, look at you, born with a hammer! Your hammer will one day pierce the heavens and fight the power of the immortals!"
Terrible naming! Absolutely the worst!! Spit on your mother's grave, Tian Chui!!
Shen Yuan was so close to stomping his hooves in irritation, he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from doing so. But goodness, he'd never felt so enraged in his life! Something about being away from Qing Jing and Luo Binghe just made this world and its intricacies ten times worse.
Where was his little lamb? He should get the boy and go back to Qing Jing immediately. At least to get away from this mess!
The disciples around him clearly agreed, airing out their frustrations.
"Stinking demon girl!! Competing is competing! Using a strong poison--what fairness is there!"
Damn right, boy in Qiong Ding robes!
But the demoness just laughed.
"I didn't hide this point. If you feel anything's unfair, or if you're afraid of getting poisoned and losing your life, the custom is to cede the trial. There would be no more need to compete then. We demons won't laugh at you since we cherish life." Her grin sharpened then, clearly mocking. "It's only human."
Ah. She's a bitch.
Shen Yuan's not sure what a 'bitch' is, but whatever it is, she's that. He'd have to find out later.
The disciples continued their complaints, angrily condemning the demons. And, of course, none of them stepped forward. Who would? It's not just human nature to value your own life--it's the nature of all living organisms! Who in their right mind would throw it away once you told them an action would end it?
Shen Qingqiu was clearly thinking the same thing. After all, he was being quite quiet as the bantering slowed. As an immortal master of some sort, surely he wouldn't threaten the lives of his little lambs. He was an adult! It's important to give lambs the opportunity to grow, but it needed to be under controlled circumstances.
Before, with the demoness, there wasn't a threat of death. Now there was. Surely, the master would argue--
“Luo Binghe, you come out.”
...
Eh?
After a beat of silence, the Qing Jing disciples immediately started yelling. Disciples from other peaks barely did so, but they could be excused. They didn't know that Luo Binghe, instead of being a head disciple with 30+ years of cultivation under his belt, was just a wee lamb with less than two decades under his belt, more than half of which were spent in the mortal realm.
Of course, knowing this, Ming Fan--Ming Fan of all people--paled, suggesting he wasn't suitable for the task. A young girl also in Qing Jing robes cried out, attracting Shen Yuan's attention.
Sure enough, he finally found Binghe.
His lamb was stiff, eyes wide. The girl who had cried out was clinging to one of his arms--ah, yes, Ning Yingying--saying in a sort of babyish cry that she didn't want Luo Binghe to fight, stamping her feet much like Shen Yuan wanted to.
Of course! Good girl! She got his Binghe into trouble a few times, but she had a good heart overall!
But the immortal simply raised a brow.
“I said to let him go up so he should go up. Are you unsatisfied with this master’s judgment? Ying-er, let him go.”
As Luo Binghe comforted the girl, his tanned face pale, Shen Yuan shook, his hearing turning to white noise.
What was this? Was this really happening right now?
The boy's just barely 16, and he has had next to no battle experience at all. Although Binghe told him about the trip down the mountain and how Ning Yingying had gotten kidnapped, that experience barely counted for anything. A skinner demon was substantially less threatening than this bear of an elder.
What sort of...
He blinked, ears still ringing, and Luo Binghe stood before the hefty demon, like a sproutling before a fierce storm of demonic energy.
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
An anger like no other struck through his body. This...he had to stop this. If Luo Binghe met his end here, he wouldn't be able to live with himself--
But another thought came to him.
He was a teacher, was he not? At least, Luo Binghe trusted him to be a teacher.
And this situation... Luo Binghe was not prepared for it. And so, he should step in...
But something told him to wait. Something nagged at the back of his mind to stay his hooves and watch. It was the same sort of feeling that drew him to the cave, only this time, it was...light.
Positive.
...Although this sort of thing could be like a lamb to the slaughter, an old story he'd heard from another culture also came to mind. Of a young man wielding only a slingshot against a giant. He couldn't remember the names of the subjects in the sacred texts...Dà Wèi [大卫 - David] and Jùrén [巨人 - Goliath], maybe?
Anyway, from what little he could remember in his strange, hazy recollections was that Da Wei, despite being heavily outclassed, won against Juren just using that slingshot he had.
Shen Yuan's little lamb...perhaps he was just as powerful.
Despite his strong desire to interfere, he shakily placed his hoof back down, teeth gritting.
...He would trust in Binghe's power. What he needed more than protection was belief. He needed someone to truly believe in him. And so, as his shizun, he would take that position and put all of his power into believing in Luo Binghe's success.
And so, with the heavy slam of Elder Tian Chui's sledgehammer, the battle began.
Shen Yuan watched carefully, his eyes solely on Luo Binghe. If he would not interfere, then he would catalogue all his movements. Every single place he could've been better, every single move he could improve. He would do his job as his teacher.
He choked down a bleat the first time the hammer made contact with Luo Binghe's body.
But he also watched as the boy rolled, redirecting as much of the pressure as possible to reduce damage. He was, undoubtedly, still hurt, but he showed no weakness.
Indeed, a prey animal could not show any weakness. Doing so could spell death.
Even a mouse, when cornered, opens its mouth and squeaks a war cry against the cat hunting it, threatening with its little teeth.
With enough of an opening, that little mouse would jump forward and bite.
Luo Binghe had taken such lessons to heart, searching for the best place to strike. But it was very difficult. Trying to strike would mean getting closer to the poisoned armor which could kill him.
He was as spry on his feet as possible, still getting hit and nicked at times, but far from the sort of failure one would expect of a poorly trained disciple.
Even so, Cang Qiong's disciples were losing faith.
“Isn’t this a sure loss? What is there to compete?”
Shut up, Qiong Ding disciple.
Eventually, even the demon side recovered from their stupor, jeering at Luo Binghe as he took and avoided hit after hit, no closer to landing a single blow on Elder Tian Chui than before.
The elder bellowed out a laugh that echoed across the area as he caught Luo Binghe with his hammer again.
"This little doll had better admit defeat soon and get off the stage! This old man can still leave you a life!"
A life. Not alive.
Being alive and living a life were two different things, with the context changing depending on who said it and what they meant.
Many of the mortals below were living a life. Those with crippled legs and blinded eyes were living a life of struggle more so than others. The wealthy and affluent could be said to truly be alive. The immortals, with the resources to pursue their immortality, could be said to be living a life worth being alive for.
For some reason, Shen Yuan thought of a human in a strange white room.
He heard beeping from several tall devices near some sort of futuristic bed.
The figure in the bed had short, wavy hair, some of it splayed on the pillow, and a clear mask-like device over his face.
He was pale, dark circles under his eyes, and when he opened them, they stared out at the window, the light too bright for Shen Yuan's imagination to see what was outside. But he could see it.
Longing. Desire.
A painful, reaching drive to leave the pale, beeping room and be alive.
Binghe will be alive.
He is alive, and he will remain that way. He need not accept the scraps of life some elder demon would throw at him. No, Luo Binghe could take it for himself.
With that in mind, Shen Yuan put power into his thoughts, and, mentally reaching out to the boy, he spoke to him.
--
'Luo Binghe, you will win.'
#static writes#sheepzun au#svsss#svsss au#au post 5#static drabbles#this world is incredibly real to a lamb born into it
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for valentine's day, i thought i'd buy a gun.
synopsis: you make your husband mad on purpose
tags: fem! reader, married couple, blood&injuries, demi alastor, suggestive/steamy, just a short kinda bad drabble to break my writer's block, ooc-ish alastor, soft alastor at first, vox mentioned
don't like? don't interact.
"Cher!"
Alastor greeted you with a smile, his lips curved into a charming yet slightly crooked grin that softened the rugged edges of his appearance.
Leaning against the door frame, he looked every bit the rogue hunter returning from a hunt. His once-neat attire bore tears, burns, and scratches, with both knees of his pants ripped and scuffed thin. His monocle hung loosely on his chest, the glass broken and shards glinting in the light. Tousled strands of crimson hair fell haphazardly across his forehead, framing his rugged features, while a trickle of blood from the cut on his lips dripped down his chin, staining his deathly pale skin.
"Christ!" You jolted off the hotel bed, propelled into action by concern, your heart racing with worry. You began running around, collecting towels, extra clothes, and a first aid kit in a frantic rush.
Alastor moved into the room and stood in the very center, observing your frenzied activity with an amused smirk.
Finally, with all your materials in hand, you rushed to your husband's side, your footsteps echoing against the cold carpet.
"What happened to you?" you asked, filled with concern as you assessed his injuries, your eyes scanning his form for any more signs of distress.
"Just a little scuffle on the hunt, my doe," he replied with a cheer in his tone, spinning his staff in his hand. "Came across a feisty, moronic beast. But nothing I couldn't handle."
"A scuffle?" Disbelief colored your voice as you got on your tiptoes, straining to reach up and dab at the blood on his chin with a damp towel.
Alastor grinned down at you, his eyes tracing your features with tenderness. Always such a pretty view, but seeing you so domestic and sweet for him made him begin to feel hot below the collar. Leaning down, he reached out to sweep a stray strand of hair from your eyes, his long, sharp claws grazing against your skin.
"That can wait," his voice crackled with low static as he pulled you flush against him, chest against chest. "I've missed you dearly."
“Good heavens, Alastor, you’re insatiable,” you chided him playfully with a swat, though the warmth in your tone betrayed your affection. Your fingers lightly brushed against the rough fabric of his torn shirt as you urged him to let you continue tending to his injuries. "Let me fix you up first."
Alastor's ears twitched back as he rolled his eyes at you, but his grip remained firm as he pulled you closer and closer until you were practically dragged towards the bed, falling into his lap with a gentle thud.
"Love," you began to protest, but before you could continue, he silenced you with a deep kiss pressed upon your lips, a low chuckle vibrating against your own, melting any further protest.
He drew back briefly, only to dive back in, his lips tracing a delicate path along your neck. With a familiarity born of passion, his hands roamed, each touch igniting a cascade of sensations that threatened to consume you both.
"Al," you whimpered, unable to resist the intoxicating allure of his touch. As his lips began to trail up your jawline, you found yourself melting into his arms, the tension of the earlier encounter gradually dissipating in the heat of the moment.
He let out a dark chuckle, the sound echoing in the room, as he threw off his ruined coat and loosened the tie around his neck. Gripping onto your hips with a firm hold, he all but threw you off his lap and onto the bed.
The smug bastard. He knew all too well that his affections could smooth over any trouble he found himself in.
"Alastor," you murmured, your senses cutting through the haze of desire, "We really should attend to your wounds first."
Alastor began to move towards you, his claws digging through and tearing the mattress beneath him. "In due time, my heart."
"I am serious," you insisted, ignoring the wide smile you received in return. Alastor merely hummed, a low, melodic sound, as he moved to press himself against you, encasing you in an embrace that felt simultaneously comforting and confining.
You leveled him with a glare. Gritting your teeth, you continued, "What did you even do? I know damn well you didn't get these," you gestured to the charred edges of his shirt, "from an animal."
"Well, dearest, it was from an overlord meeting. You understand how tense politics can become," Alastor countered with a laugh.
"Bushwa," you scowled, jabbing your finger into his chest. "I know a lie when I see one."
"Rather accusatory," Alastor hummed, his tone dismissive.
"Well, I apologize for worrying about my husband, who looks to be on the verge of collapse any moment now," you snapped, frustration seeping into your voice.
"So enough of this," you scolded, your expression hardening. "What did you do?"
"What was necessary," Alastor scoffed, a mirthless chuckle following.
"I'd say he deserved it. You should have seen the way he looks at you," he continued, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning, the air around him crackling with static.
"Who?" you asked, leaning down to meet his gaze. "There are plenty of people. Plenty of looks."
"Don't act as if you don't notice that pompous television bastard hanging around the hotel nowadays," Alastor's voice crackled with dark intensity, the radio static grew stronger, prickling against your skin and nearly making his words incoherent.
So this is what it's about?
You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Alastor's jealousy, though a small part of you felt a flicker of flattery at his protectiveness.
Your husband's irritation simmered beneath the surface, evident in the subtle set of his jaw and the way his normally smug gaze turned icy. But a mischievous spark ignited within you, tempting you to push his buttons just a bit further, to dance dangerously close to the edge of his patience.
"Are you talking about Vox?" you asked with a smirk playing at your lips. Tilting your head coyly, you met Alastor's gaze with a glint of mischief in your eyes. Your voice was laced with honeyed sarcasm, dripping like molten gold from your lips.
His expression darkened at the mention, a flicker of raw anger crossing his features before he regained his composure.
"You know well who I'm talking about," Alastor's grin was uncanny, his voice carrying the same tone you'd heard the night he faced death. "Don't toy with me."
Despite the seriousness of his tone, you couldn't resist the urge to tease him further. A playful smile danced on your lips as you reached out, gripping onto his tie and pulling him closer, closing the distance between you with a pull.
“What if I found him charming?” you breathed out against his lips, your voice a tantalizing whisper as you ran your hands up the fabric of his undershirt. Your touch was featherlight, fingers smoothing down the wrinkles of his torn button-up with a teasing caress. “I might have let him have me right then and there.”
A sudden sharp pierce of a distorted screech, like a radio malfunctioning, cut through the air, shattering the moment. Claws flying up to grip your face, Alastor broke the kiss and stared down at you with glowing blood-red eyes, their intensity piercing through you. Your breath caught in your chest at the sight, your heart pounding in your ears as you were overcome by a mixture of fear and anticipation.
Alastor called out your name. It was the first time you had heard him utter it in a while. Throughout the years, he had always addressed you by endearing nicknames, leaving you half-convinced that he had forgotten your actual name.
But as the sound of fell from his lips, despite the danger, you found yourself yearning to hear it once more, to feel the weight of your name on his tongue.
"My sweet," Alastor tutted, a screech of radio feedback following him as he cupped your neck in one hand, guiding your gaze back to him. His touch was possessive, firm, and demanding, akin to the control of a puppeteer manipulating his marionette.
"Never utter such words again," he growled softly, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. His grip tightened ever so slightly, sharpened claws a warning of the consequences should you dare to defy him. "No one else shall lay claim to you."
With a defiant tilt of your chin, you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down in the face of his dominance. "And what if I refuse?" you challenged, your voice steady despite the fear that coiled in your belly.
Alastor's lips curled into a manic grin, his canines shining beneath the lights of the room, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he leaned in closer.
"Then you shall suffer the consequences."
#have this shite drabble sorry for no writing :P i had a competition yesterday and the results come out today + i have prom tonight lolol#sephiewrites#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor imagine#hazbin imagine#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x you#hazbin x you#hazbin x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin vox
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thinking about pussy drunk isagi…
this man loves eating you out, he will tire from it and he actually wants to tire you out because he could go on for hours upon hours on end just teasing you and tasting you for his own pleasure.
he never gets tired of you presenting yourself as a meal for him, laying on your shared bed and spreading your legs and teasing him while you play with yourself, he eyes don’t leave your cunt, watching as you finger yourself while saying his name. he could barely contain himself any longer, grabbing your hand and replacing it with his tongue.
your back arches off the bed and your fingers grip his hair, you look down to see isagi taking his time eating you out — he always wants to savor the moment and that’s what you loved about him, he would take his time and do it because he loved pussy, your pussy.
his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you down on his face so he can taste you better, his eyes glossy and glass-like, almost in a daze but he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care at all, not when you’re wetting up his face and letting him stay in between your legs for as long as he wants to be there.
he licks a fat stripe leading to your clit and sucking on your folds, his thumb moves to rub on your clit, extra stimulation for you bear. he moans into your cunt at the taste of you, you always tasted so good and he couldn’t get enough of it. your fingers grip the sheets as his tongue finds its way into your hole, licking over your walls and licking up every drop of slick you have to give him.
drool leaves the sides of his mouth, eating you sloppily but it all felt so good that you couldn’t bring yourself to care, you look down at him again with a smirk, “is it good? hm? you enjoying yourself?”
he could barely acknowledge you, nothing on his mind but you and the way you taste. his brain full of static and nothing else resides there, you don’t even mind that he doesn’t answer you — you start to move your hips against his face and all he can do is endure it, licking and sucking while you chase your pleasure against his tongue, “god, isagi… please.” you plead, wanting to cum.
his hands grips your hips, stilling you and thrusting his tongue in and out of you at a fast pace. your thighs started to tremble at the change of pace but fuck, it felt so good. his tongue always seemed to work magic on your cunt and tonight was no different. he didn’t care if his tongue was starting to cramp, he would still lick and prod at your cunt until you finally came on his tongue.
your back arched and your fingers gripped his hair tighter as you started to shake through your first of many orgasms throughout the night. “oh shit!” your thighs shaking and tears pricking the corner of your eye. isagi didn’t stop though, he moaned at the taste of your cum on his tongue and kept eating you out. his jaw slacked as he moves his tongue in and out of you, licking up at the cum and swallowing it.
he’s so hard in his joggers but he doesn’t care, he just ruts against the bed to relieve himself but he could cum just from doing this. you whine at the overstimulation and try to push his head away but he grabs your hand and pins it the bed and continues to eat as if he was a starved man.
a/n :: i’m about to start cleaning out my notes. it’s just a bunch of drabbles in there.
© 𝐥𝐮𝐱𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧 | all rights reserved to me, please do not steal, copy, or repost to other websites.
#𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜…#blue lock#blue lock smut#blue lock isagi#isagi headcanons#isagi x you#isagi x reader#bllk isagi#isagi yoichi#isagi x y/n#isagi fluff#isagi smut#bllk smut#bllk x y/n#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk headcanons
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In case you hadn’t noticed I utterly ADORE your LaDS fics 🫣 You write the boys so well I squeal when I read them!
Can I request prompts 27 and 142 from the prompt lists for our boy Raf? Could it be nsfw? 👉👈
Eagerly awaiting all of your fics about Raf and Xavier especially!
send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble
eventide (27. follow me + 142. in the still of the night)
rafayel; 2,413; nsfw !!!, lvl 55 spoilers, piv sex, fem!reader, no "y/n", riding, heat??? adjacent sex???, smut with feelings, fluff and smut, pwp-ish
summary: "my life? what if you just take it instead?" said the sailor to the mermaid.
a/n: this is probably the best i've felt about a smut piece i've written. that ebb & flow lvl 55 story has me in a chokehold, i tell you.
“Maybe from the start… it was all a trap. Maybe the mermaid was after the sailor’s life all along.”
You reach forward to press your palm to the side of Rafayel’s face, feeling the heat of his skin burning against yours. Gently, you run your knuckles along the sparkling scales dotting the tops of his cheeks like so many pieces of a misplaced sea. You see his eyes go wide, feel his breath quicken impossibly in his chest.
“Okay.”
Rafayel blinks, and the barest hint of a frown creases his eyebrows as he turns to look at you.
“Okay?”
You smile, leaning forward with a soft sigh, letting your fingers trail down to his neck, where his pulse beats hummingbird fast beneath your touch.
“Mhm… you were saying earlier that you’d be so weak tonight that I could take your life if I wanted it…” you slowly shift your leg, one and then the other, over till you’re straddling Rafayel’s lap, both your hands resting on his shoulders. Fish-tail flashes of emotions flicker behind his eyes as he holds his breath, his fingers trembling as he reaches up to catch your wrists; he holds them tight, but he makes no move to either pull you closer or push you away.
You can feel his uncertainty thrumming in the air between you, static — electric.
“I — did…”
You let your head fall sideways as you flash him a sweet, helpless smile, “Then… if it were all a trap for my life… I’m saying that you can have it.”
You lean forward, and like this, your eye line is just a bit higher than his, forcing him to crane his head upwards to keep ahold of your gaze.
He is so warm beneath you that for a moment, you wonder if he’s activated his Evol by accident.
“I can…” for a moment, he seems confused, even drunk as he stares up at you, and then, the flicker of something behind his eyes as he goes stiff beneath you. Then, his fingers are digging into your hips and his breath is nearly searing across your lips. Your newly released wrists burn where his grip had been just seconds before, and you slowly sink your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean — or make promises you’ve no intention of keeping.” There’s a razor’s edge glinting beneath the soft hiss of his voice as he glares at you, a longing as deep as the sea roiling behind his gaze.
You steel yourself, shifting slightly in his lap, your cheeks warming as you feel him quivering beneath you. He’s still hot, too hot, but he holds impossibly still as you lean in, your lips ghosting over his in a phantom kiss.
“Please…” it comes out as a ragged plea, and you’ve never known him to sound so desperate or so utterly broken, “if you don’t — if you’re not —“
You run your thumb along his jaw as you force him to look at you.
“Rafayel… kiss me.”
It is a breaking dam, a cresting wave, crashing against the crumbling edges of his self-restraint — his lips on yours, his tongue pressing, hungry and demanding, into your mouth as he surges up to kiss you. It’s all you can do to cling to him, your hands looping behind his neck as he crushes you to him, his hands suddenly everywhere as he tugs at the hem of your clothes, rucking them up just to press his palm to the bare skin of your waist, your back, to trail them up the ridges of your spine.
He tastes of salt and desire as he groans against your mouth, your fingers tangling in his foam-soft hair, heat tingling through you as he forces your hips against his and you feel him — hot and hard. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls back, panting, his eyes misty and dark as he watches you with a wildness that chases shivers down your spine.
“Are you scared?” he asks, his voice low and just a little breathless, “do you regret staying?”
You swallow and shake your head, trailing your fingers down into the already-opened front of his shirt, grazing your nails along the skin there. A delicious, heart-rending anticipation sizzles through you at the way his stomach flexes, and the next moment, he’s dropping his lips to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into the bare skin there even as he grabs your hand and forces it lower — and then lower.
Heat pulses through you as your palm meets his clothed cock and his head drops back with a moan. Like this, the scales on his neck and jaw are even more pronounced, glimmering in the dim, moonless night. You loosen his belt with one hand before tugging it down with the other, but before you can reach for him, he catches your wrists and pulls you bodily back up the length of his torso.
You almost yelp, shocked by his strength and the ease with which he’d hauled you over his lap once more. There’s an intensity to his hooded eyes, so much darker than their usual lost-treasure brightness, but he smirks as he sees the obvious blush marring your cheeks.
“Already embarrassed? Didn’t you say you were going to give me your life?”
You purse your lips, “I — I am.”
A strange expression crosses his face as he scoffs, “I told you… don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
And then he’s kissing you again, harsh and hungering, a ravenousness carving through him into the hollow of you as you roll your clothed core down over his throbbing cock with a loud, hapless moan.
“S-says who I don’t plan on keeping them?” you ask, breathless and panting as he lifts your hips with a hiss and literally tears away your underwear. Shivers shake through you at this blatant display of strength — you’d always known he was strong, stronger than he lets on but you hadn’t expected this. It caves your stomach and curves your spine as a want so carnal it sears your mind threatens to take you over.
“Mm — fuck —”
He swears as he shoves down his own pants and his cock springs free, thick and leaking as it slaps against the tight muscle of his lower abdomen. You can’t help the way your eyes wide or your breath hitches at the sight — your mouth waters, your throat tightens.
Heat pulses between your thighs as you press your lips and reach down to wrap your fingers around his base, giving him a soft, experimental tug.
The low, guttural moan that spills from you threatens to steal your sanity from you entirely. And suddenly, it’s not only him feeling the effects of the eventide night — you too start to wonder if there’s something in the thick heat of the air, in dark moonless skies.
“Come here, princess —” Rafayel’s fingers dig into your arms as he jerks you up again, pulling you up till you’re hovering over his weeping cock, your core throbbing with want, the nickname somehow sending another thrill tingling through you. You wonder if you had been a princess in another life — if Rafayel had known you then too — if you’d also wanted each other as you do now —
“R-Raf — ay — yel — ah!” you brace your arms against his shoulders as you slowly lower yourself over him, both of your eyes caught on the intoxicating sight of him sinking into you, inch by inch, thick and unrelenting, until finally you’re seated fully in his lap again, your breaths coming in quick, harsh gasps as you try to adjust to the sting, the stretch.
“H-hey…” Rafayel strokes a hand along your cheek, his own chest heaving even as he checks in on you, “how — how do you feel?”
You keen, rolling your hips down over him just to watch him shudder, “G-good — ah — fuck — there —!”
You plant your palms on his chest and lift yourself up a few inches before sinking down again. The friction nearly drives all coherence from your brain as Rafayel’s hands fall to your hips, his nails digging crescent moon marks into the plush above your ass.
He groans, “Y-you’re squeezing m-me so… so tight — ngh — fuck fuck fuck — do — do you feel that — right — right there?”
He lets out a panting breath as he forces your hips forward and back as he flicks his eyes down at the place where his cock is disappearing into your cunt over and over, a ring of sticky white collecting round the base as he watches, his eyes glazed over with want.
“Yes — yes — I f-feel it —” you force your thighs to go faster, digging your fingers into his shoulder blades as you try to ride him harder, keening when he dips down to catch one of your nipples between his lips, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh, his tongue circling your sensitive nub. Fire chases down the length of your spine as pleasure explodes in your lower belly as Rafayel rucks up into you faster and faster, reaching up a hand to squeeze at your other breast, thumb kneading at the sensitive nipple till you’re twitching, falling forward into his embrace.
“You really — really like it when I fuck you deep like this, hm?” and he’s just as breathless as he should be, there’s sweat beading at his brow, an almost crazed, unfocused look in his eyes as he pulls back to look up at you, but it only serves you spur you on as you ride him faster and harder, tossing your head back, slamming your hips down into his to chase your own high as you cry out before falling forward against his feverish skin.
He shifts his hips and you go rigid above him, the tip of his cock hitting a particular place inside you that makes the entire world go fuzzy around the edges. Once, twice, three times — and then you’re collapsing, shaking and shuddering as you come undone around him, and he’s swearing beneath you, squeezing you to him with a thick, bitten-off groan.
“Fuck — i-if you keep — squeezing — around me l-like that — ah-ah-hah…!”
You let out a soft whine as you feel him spilling hot inside you, his cock twitching as he shivers, his forehead falling against your shoulder as he sighs.
“Mm… how… how do you… feel?” you ask, your voice hazy with tiredness as you pull back, grinning lazily down at him, twisting your fingers absently through the hairs at the nape of his neck. Rafayel peers up at you after a second, half-reproachful, half-amazed.
“You… really have no idea… do you?”
“No idea… of what?” you ask, cocking your head to the side even as he tugs you in, his softening cock still sheathed inside you, the sticky heat of your juices cooling against your skin.
“Don’t you know what it means to have sex with a Lemurian?”
You laugh, shaking your head, leaning forward to nuzzle into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. You rest your head against the sofa and dig your nose into his skin.
“No… tell me.”
Rafayel’s arms wrap around you, sweet and solid, even as a soft squishing sound alerts you both to the mess you’ve undoubtedly made on his artisanal couch. Neither of you pay it much mind.
“It means that you’re tied to me forever — for this lifetime at least, and that… if you ever try to have sex with anyone else…” Rafayel drops his voice, murmuring into the shell of your ear as you shy away at giggle, “You’ll suffer dire consequences.”
You laugh, shaking your head, “Well, good thing I wasn’t planning on having sex with anyone else then. In this lifetime… or the next.”
Rafayel goes still beneath you. And for a second, it’s just you and him and the catching of lost breaths, the remembering of things once forgotten, lives once lived and yet to be lived again.
“Haven’t I told you? Don’t say things you don’t mean…”
You lift your head to look at him, a soft smile lifting your cheeks as you sigh.
“You keep saying that… but I’ve meant everything I said,” you say, trailing your fingers along the high of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw. You feel his skin burn fire-hot beneath the pads of your thumbs as you run them along his bottom lip.
“Promise you’re not lying,” he says, and he’s not indignant any longer, but reverent and eager, almost anxious.
“I promise.”
“Can your promises be trusted?”
You smile before leaning in to run your lips along his neck, tracing his pulse all the way up to his lips with a light, lingering kiss.
“You tell me, sly merman… weren’t you just saying that the mermaid of legend had set a clever trap for the sailor? So tell me, clever, clever merman… if you’ve bound me to you forever… what power would I have to lie to you, hm?”
Rafayel scoffs, pouting as he looks away, “Unbelievable.”
You laugh, lying your cheek back against his chest with a small sigh, “You should learn to believe it… I mean, I did just willingly give you my life.”
Rafayel makes a soft tsk-ing noise as he pinches you lightly on the thigh, “You really don’t know what you’re saying, do you?”
You shake your head, “No… I know exactly what I’m saying.”
Rafayel grunts, though you know by the sound of his voice that he’s grinning, even as he turns to face away from you. You fancy you can feel the heat as it kisses pink the tips of his ears. You reach up to run a finger along the bright scales still pressing up from beneath his skin as he lets out a soft hiss, turning back to look at you.
“You might not believe me but… at least… I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.”
#love and deepspace#love and deepspace rafayel#love and deepspace headcanons#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace smut#love and deepspace drabbles#love and deepspace fic#l&ds smut#l&ds#love and deepspace x you#rafayel smut#rafayel drabbles#rafayel x you#rafayel x reader#lads drabbles#lads smut#lads x reader#floofy floof floof#ya nasties#scheduled post#i've written more smut in the past week than i have in like the past 6 months on this entire blog PELASE
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Hiiiii❤️ I idk if this is a Drabble or a headcaon but here I go anyways😅 . Hear some context So you don’t think I’m some weirdo. So in the 2017 movie called the babysitter and this character Allison got shot in the b00b and she “omg he shot me in the b00b what kind of dçk shots a girl in the b00bs” (funny scene) so basically fem!reader with platonic!taskforce141. And there on a mission and suddenly they hear the same line on their coms and they’re like 😳
(feel free to ignore)
A/N: LMAO - I had to look up the scene for this as a reference. Just picturing Price's paternal disappointment when he realizes his team acts like a bunch of children. Sorry, this is rlly short!
Summary: Your attempt at comedic relief sets off a chain reaction of immaturity.
Warning(s): platonic!141, canon-typical mild injury, suggestive language, AFAB!Reader, no use of y/n
Word Count: 554
꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST
// have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver. | PART TWO
No Filter // 141 Drabble
Compared to some of the other operations you’d done with them, this was a piece of cake. A simple infiltrate and exfil mission where you’d be clearing house in one of Hassan’s safehouses—a mere breadcrumb leading to the man himself.
Price thought it would go smoothest if everyone split up, but to keep within shouting distance. It was only a small facility, after all.
Being ambushed? Shot? That was not something you saw in the cards for today.
Luckily, you got a bullet in him before he had a chance to do worse. But here you were, slumped against the wall with all the air knocked out of your lungs.
“Heard the shots, Sergeant. You broken?”
Captain Price’s voice crackled through near instantly, the second he had pulled the trigger on you. Though it took a few seconds, you managed to recuperate, and asses the room in front of you. The man who shot you K.I.A, and you very fortunate.
You peered down at your chest; indeed not broken, but injured. The vest had absorbed the shot, causing a relieved sigh to escape your lips. Obviously, if you really had a bullet in your chest, you wouldn’t just be sitting there—but the adrenaline of escaping death eliminated any rationality.
You unbuttoned the first few buttons on your shirt, seeing a welt on your breast as if the man had his gaze set on them when he pulled the trigger. Still, with your hand on the button of your radio, you finally gave some sort of answer.
“Bastard shot me in the boobs.” It was a mumble, but there was no way in hell they didn’t hear that.
As you winced, you seemed to forget that the entire team was on the other line—probably way more concerned with your life than the health of your tits. “What kind of dick shoots a girl in the boobs?” You asked rhetorically, despite the astonished silence on the other line.
“You were shot in your…?” Gaz was the first to speak up, his tone practically painting the picture of his signature squint.
Before the next voice chimed in, you could swear you heard whoever it was stifling a laugh. “Thanks for that.” Soap chimed in, accent crackling against the static. His smirk was visible even if his words; the natural flirt in him coming out no matter what.
Ghost had remained silent, probably muting his comms so he didn’t have to listen to this. And Price? Oh, Price… He’s got his head in his hands with pure disappointment. How did this status update turn so unprofessional, so quickly?
“Wait, let me get this straight,” Soap comes in again, a smug sneer on his face. “He shot you on the—”
“Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” Price blurts, interrupting the immature banter daring to be further set in motion. He was fighting every urge to crack a smile at the pure ridiculousness, but his poker face and stern tone prevented it.
“Tactical or not, John, it’s a tough break.” Laswell comes in, your only saving grace against Price’s father-like disappointment. She was the last superior of yours you’d expected to find it humorous, but she did, nonetheless.
This would definitely be the source material for the next HR meeting, you could see it now.
#mw2#mw2 fanfic#call of duty#simon riley#task force 141#ghost mw2#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x y/n#captain john price#john price#kate laswell#kyle gaz garrick#soap mctavish
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Can u do a drabble or hcs on cuddling Ellie?
Ur writing is so good I love everything U write :>
WREATHE
warnings: not much, mostly fluff, basically the rq, mdni with my account tho😏
a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN IN MY INBOX FOR I KID YOU NOT LIKE HALF A YEAR IM GENUINELY SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME 😰 thank you so much for sending the rq even though i took the piss responding, also this is a drabble bc i don’t think i’d be good at doing hcs 😭 i have some shit coming up at uni so i prolly won’t put anything out for a while but i have an idea for a new fic in the drafts !!! very excited…
ramadan has started which means israel’s violence against the Palestinian people will worsen as it does every year, purely for the sake of inflicting even more psychological torture on them. please, now more than ever, pray for them if you’re religious, talk about palestine, boycott, protest, strike, donate if you can, contact the people in charge. don’t let people forget. here’s a link to some details on the situation. everybody stay safe 💗.
10:47 - you return from a strenuous day of patrol and odd jobs around Jackson. You’re slightly tipsy, a drink or two from the Tipsy Bison churning a pool of warmth within your stomach.
The place is stagnant when you push the door open, as if coming home to nobody.
Ellie must’ve gone to bed early today.
You drift to the bathroom despite the fact that the house feels apocalyptic, and sit in the gentle rush of water, scrubbing your skin weakly with aching arms.
When you enter your room, everything is still, except for the rhythmic rise and fall of Ellie’s figure beneath the covers on the bed backed against the wall.
You throw the dampened towel that is slung over your shoulder carelessly and walk over to the bed, gently settling beside her.
For a while, you feel content. Sleep is lulling you in, the room is shadowy, the bed is warm, and the sound of Ellie’s deep-sleep-breaths (totally not snores at all, she swears) are soft like TV static in the back of your mind.
Your eyes are on the verge of fluttering close for the last time tonight so you turn onto your side and nestle into the crook of your shoulder.
Then, there’s a harsh jolt and the bed shifts. You can feel Ellie’s puzzled gaze raking over you, the realisation that you’re home setting, and your lips twist into a smile subconsciously. The night rarely ends without the inebriating buzz of affection.
A quiet sigh escapes the enclosure of her blush-pink lips before she reclines into the pillows once more, eyes never leaving the still curvature of your figure. Not a moment passes and her arms encircle your waist, warmth embracing your torso and pressing against your hair like a wreathe of absolute comfort.
A barely audible mumble tickles the helix of your ear,
“Hey, babe,” accompanied by the phantom touch of her lips against your cheeks in her half-asleep state. You scrunch your nose before turning into the love she offers you.
“Hey, Els.”
You begin to mumble butterfly details about the happenings of the day as you feel the surface of her skin raise with goosebumps under the delicate tracing of your fingertips - down her bare thighs, along the round of her hip, along her stomach and under her boobs - easing airy chuckles out of her.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Hm? Nothin’…”
You can already picture the smirk on her dazed face,
“Ya sure there? You want somethin’, babe?”
A playful scoff and she’s looking at you with feigned shock against the weight of tired eyelids,
“Can’t I feel you? I just wanna be close to you,”
“I’d say we’re pretty close, ya know?”
“Never close enough,” you clarify and the rasp of her laugh fades into silence and she presses a kiss onto your head, and then another, straining her neck till she’s face to flushed and grinning face, stringing a blizzard of soft, dewy kisses across it.
“Alright, alright!”
“One more- mwah,” she smacks her lips against your scrunched up mouth aggressively, leaving a gross patch of saliva, and smiles dumbly to herself, tightening the hold of her arms around you to which you groan.
Tight against her gentle sway, she mutters a quiet confirmation,
“Never close enough,” and then runs the rough pads of her fingertips along the expanse of your skin, lingering a moment on your thighs.
It’s like the rustle of a spring breeze and it draws your eyes to a close.
As you drift further from the surface, you feel the soft tingle of Ellie’s foot nudging your ankle and the distant haze of her voice whispering,
“You sure you don’t want anything, baby?” and you’re asleep.
also, absolutely no one asked for this but here are some pictures of my fat ass cat (cutest patootie evah 😆😆):
#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie x reader#ellie fluff#ellie the last of us#ellie x fem reader#tlou2#tlou fanfiction#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams tlou#fanfic#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x reader#ellie smut#ellie williams smut#tlou part 2#the last of us#drabble#the last of us x reader#ellie williams fanfic#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#cocteau twins#lesbian#gay#ellie williams headcanons
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Leona and Malleus Mayhem! - Self Aware!Yandere!Leona and Malleus x reader
A short drabble inspired by Yuri and Natsuki's fight in ddlc hehe
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You logged in to Twisted Wonderland as usual, deciding to reread Malleus's Ceremonial Robes vignette. Everything was going well until Leona and Malleus's argument as the scene transitioned to Malleus's groovy CG.
Leona: ...You thinkin' you're gonna get it next time? Well, sorry to break it to you, but no one's ever gonna invite you. The player's never gonna want to see you in those robes again, so just put 'em away for good already.
Malleus: ...... Have you finished being catty? Wild beasts certainly like the sound of their own howling. And they like seeing me in these too, you know. They've even added me as their home character in these robes.
That's odd... The dialogue is different. Why are they referring to you as the 'player' now?
Leona: Oh? I didn't realise you were so focused on trying to impress them, lizard.
The scene transitioned back to the Diasomnia lounge; Leona looked smug, and Malleus looked surprised, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Malleus: Eh? That's not...
Malleus closed his eyes and uncrossed his arms, opening them again to a neutral expression.
Malleus: Maybe you're just jealous that they appreciate my appearance in my ceremonial robes more than they appreciated yours.
Malleus looked smug once again, grinning with a hand placed on his hip. Leona suddenly looked angry, his ears twitching in annoyance.
Leona: Huh?! And how do you know that they didn't appreciate my ceremonial robes more? Are you that full of yourself?
Malleus: ...If I was full of myself, I would deliberately go out of my way to take naps around campus and act abrasive towards everyone!
They both seemed to be getting heated now, Malleus had lost any trace of amusement as he looked angry.
Leona: Tch, well, you know what? I wasn't the one that magically grew 5 centimeters bigger as soon as the player started showing up!
Malleus looked shocked now, the accusation was completely unexpected for him, and for you too.
Malleus: Kingscholar...!
Lilia's sprite suddenly moved into frame, his hands on his hips as he had a neutral expression, clearly wanting to break up the fight.
Lilia: You two, this is-
He was cut off by Malleus and Leona speaking in unison, Lilia's textbox moving forward without you tapping the screen to continue at all. In fact, no attempt to reach the menu or skip past was effective, now you were locked in this interaction.
Leona & Malleus: This doesn't involve you!
Malleus: Taking out your own insecurities on others like this, you really act as young as your age, Kingscholar.
Leona: Me? Look who's talking you wannabe edgy bastard.
The screen glitched, the edges of the screen darkened and tv static played over everything for a moment, before disappearing in an instant, both characters looked absolutely enraged.
Malleus: Edgy? Apologies that my natural charisma is too much for someone of your mental age to comprehend!
Leona: See? Just saying that proves my point! Most people learn to get over themselves once they move on from Freshman year, you know.
Malleus: If you want to prove anything, then stop harassing others with your sickeningly obnoxious attitude! Do you think you can counterbalance your toxic personality just by dressing and acting favorably to the player?
The background was slowly starting to fizzle out as the static returned, the character sprites and the textbox were the only things unobscured.
Leona: Whoa, be careful or you might cut yourself on that edge, Draconia.
Malleus seemed to be much more riled up now, and Leona looked smug once again.
Leona: Oh, my bad, you already do, don't you?
Malleus: D-Did you just accuse me of cutting myself? What the fuck is wrong with your head?!
That's new... None of the characters have cursed in the game before, and now that the vignette has gone off the rails, anything could happen. Your screen continued to glitch, everything around Malleus and Leona was getting fuzzy with more static, only their sprites and the textbox was able to be seen.
Leona: Yeah, go on! Let them hear everything you really think! I'm sure they'll be head over heels for you after this!
Malleus looked surprised again, now seeming to actually acknowledge you now.
Malleus: (Y/N)...? He's just trying to make me look bad...
He now addressed you by name, well the name that you put into the game for the protagonist anyways. His tone was strangely meek, unlike that of his usual character, his formal way of speaking has disappeared, now focused on defending himself to you, until Leona cut in again, also addressing you more directly.
Leona: That's not true! He started it!
The screen glitched again, two boxes appeared in front of the characters, one read 'Malleus' and the other read 'Leona', one on top of the other as you now had a choice to make.
Which will you choose?
#twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst#x reader#leona kingscholar#yandere leona kingscholar#malleus draconia#yandere malleus draconia#self aware au#self aware twst#self aware twisted wonderland#yandere x reader
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