#storm's writing tag | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

storms-corner · 2 months

Text

i did manage to write a tiny fic about oksana's birthday morning, soo :'D

“Happy birthday to youuu, happy birthday to youuu…”

Eve’s voice dances down the hall, all the way from the kitchen to a no longer sleeping Oksana’s ears. The little girl stirs, confused as to why mommy is out of bed already, but delighted to hear her sing. She grunts and rolls over on her back, rubbing at her eyes and rubbing Sooshka against her cheek. Giving her pacifier a sleepy suck, she looks to the door. Warm light flickers and dances.

“Happy birthday, dear Oksana …” Eve pushes the door open, singing with a smile on her face. “Happy birthday toooo youuu!”

Oksana’s eyes widen and she clumsily pushes herself to sit. Her mouth hangs open, enough that her pacifier tumbles into her lap, and she makes an excited noise. Still too tired for real words. Eve carries a tray with a cupcake with a candle in it and a gift. The tray is wrapped with fairy lights.

“Mommy,” Oksana whispers breathlessly, struggling to take in the sight of this. No one has ever done this for her birthday. For a long time, Oksana didn’t understand birthdays were to be celebrated. Mama called hers an unfortunate day, sometimes.

“Good morning, baby,” Eve says, and her voice is warm like honey and full of love. She sits on the edge of the bed. “Happy birthday, angel. A whole year older, huh? Time goes so fast.”

Oksana nods shyly. To Oksana, time is a vague concept. But she knows a year is a long time. A year older means she’s spent almost an entire year here in this house with Eve. A year older means that mama and her childhood is even more distant than before. A year older means that Eve sings to her and wakes her up with a cupcake for breakfast.

“Don’t feel so old,” Oksana shrugs.

Eve chuckles. “You’re nowhere near old, sweetheart. I’m near old. You’re just starting out, still.”

After instructing Oksana to sit up properly, Eve places the tray on her lap.

“Time to blow out the candles, yeah?” she says with enthusiasm, rubbing Oksana’s leg on top of the blankets. “Go ahead, honey.”

First, Oksana points. “Three!” she says with unbridled joy, pointing to one of the candles in the cupcake. She completely ignores the 1 beside it.

Eve’s heart crumbles and melts. It doesn’t seem like Oksana turns thirty-one today. It seems much more like she’s turning three. Oksana had never put an age on herself before, neither had Eve, because it shifts so much. But the 3 on the cupcake seemed to resonate with her this morning.

“Yeah, three!” Eve says, grinning so hard that her cheeks hurt. “That’s a big number.”

Oksana blows out the candles. Eve claps her hands, “Yay!”

“Can I come sit with you, hm?” Eve pats the mattress.

“Uh-huh,” Oksana nods happily. She scoots to the middle of the bed and Eve sits next to her.

Like it’s an automated response to having Eve beside her, Oksana nestles her way into Eve’s embrace, resting against her mommy. Eve’s stomach swirls with affection. Oksana is still sleep-warm and soft. Eve, who had gotten up earlier than early, allows herself to close her eyes for a moment. Then she notices the lack of chewing; she’d been expecting Oksana to dig right into the cupcake.

“You’re allowed to eat it, baby,” Eve reminds her.

“Yep. But can’t decide,” Oksana says. “Present? Or cake?”

“Oh,” Eve smiles softly. “How about you eat half, then open the present, and eat the rest.”

System in place, Oksana does just that. For a second Eve regrets allowing a cupcake with chocolate frosting into their bed, but just for today she lets the thought go — it’s her little girl’s first real birthday. She can get chocolate everywhere if she wants to.

Eve wipes Oksana’s fingers and mouth with a napkin. “That’s yummy, huh?”

Oksana nods eagerly. With clean fingers, she reaches for the gift. Eve had tied the ribbon so loosely that Oksana wouldn’t struggle to undo it. She’d done the same with the tape and wrapping paper. Oksana’s fine motor skills are lacking, which Eve chalks down to both the fact that being small in a big body must be dizzying, and the fact that no one bothered to teach her at a young age.

“You’re doing such a good job; you don’t even need mommy’s help!” Eve praises as Oksana opens her present. “I can’t wait to see what’s inside. So exciting, isn’t it?”

Oksana rips the paper off and comes face to face with a small plushie — a soft, smiling sun with feet made of corduroy. Her face brightens and she practically vibrates with excitement.

“Mommy,” she says softly, like the word contains every bit of joy and gratitude she can’t properly express. “Mommy, mommy, thank you.”

Eve hugs Oksana. She kisses the side of her head, nuzzling into her girl’s hair. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Happy birthday,” she murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Oksana tucks herself into her mommy’s warm arms. “I love you too.”

#it's .. not good but it is something!!#c. eve #c. oksana #eve and oksana #storm's writing tag

21 notes · View notes

joaniejustwokeup · 1 year

Text

DP x DC Prompt:

Summoning circles are more complicated than people give them credit for. They’re a bit like a mix between a thumb print, a name, a phone number, and a recipe; and at the same time, nothing like any of those things.

In reality, most summoning circles in spell books and ancient texts are incomplete, representing only a fraction of a particular spirit’s identity.

A complete circle will actually be a series of different summoning circles, with each concentric ring representing an aspect of the spirit’s identity and having individual requirements and/or offerings needed. Ghosts have an innate awareness of them and are able to draw and describe their requirements from any sort of inward reflection.

Ghosts will often give out incomplete circles as a means of communication and transportation. A single ring of the circle will only open the door, and each ring added makes the pull and connection to the summoner stronger. Ghosts will also sometimes use incomplete circles to mark and monitor their haunts and as a way of claiming territory.

A complete summoning circle will occasionally but inevitably change over time, as parts of the spirit’s identity change.

The circle will always be a closely guarded secret. This is because, much like giving your true name to the fae, giving out your full summoning circle will allow the summoner to not only capture you, but to command and control you.

After Danny was shown Dan’s future where he killed the world, he made Jazz memorize his complete circle and told her to use it if he ever turned evil. She thought he was being ridiculous, but learned the spell when she saw how frightened he had become of himself.

When the summoning circle of the Ghost King was added to his identity, he tried to make her memorize the new circle, only for her to flat out refuse, saying it’s not healthy for him to make these kind of contingencies. They get into a really bad fight and Danny flies off determined to find someone he can trust with his circle should he turn evil.

As he’s flying over his town he feels the slight tug on his consciousness indicating someone is trying to summon the Ghost King. He lets his awareness bleed through the summoning just enough to see that… yup it’s cultists again. At least there’s no sacrifices this time.

He’s about to shrug the summoning off like he has so many others when he suddenly sees someone fighting through the cultists. Oh! Make that several someones.

With a giddy sort of eagerness Danny watches Batman and his sidekicks cut through the crowd of religious fanatics, even taking down a couple that looked like they were using ghost-based magic. He’d always admired the Dark Knight, but seeing him fight in person is something else.

It’s as the hero is tying up the cultists and checking their injuries that a lightbulb goes off in Danny’s head, and, after a moment of steeling his determination, he lets himself be pulled through the summoning circle.

The Bats all tense up as the circle at the center of the room grows brighter, readying themselves for another fight. Danny tries to smile reassuringly as he feels his form materialize, though they likely can’t see it in the bright flash of light that accompanies it.

He frowns when he realizes the summoning had dressed him in his royal armor and cloak, the crown of fire burning above his head and ring of rage glaring from his right hand.

He tries raising his hands in an “I am not a threat,” pose, before realizing it looks exactly like the Box Ghost’s “Beware!” pose. He tucks his hands under his armpits, then awkwardly waves at the group of vigilantes.

“Hi there! Wow that was really cool- Thanks for taking care of these guys for me.”

The vigilantes once again tense up as Danny steps out of the circle towards them. Danny smiles sheepishly.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I really need to talk to you, Batman.”

Batman steps forward, approaching Danny as he stands just outside the circle, a living shadow that looms larger than life. Still, Danny senses something soften in his gaze as he looks over the teenage Ghost King, stopping just out of reach of him. Danny gazes back at his childhood hero, hoping he’s making the right choice.

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

#Red hood doodling these intense circular designs in the corners of his favorite books not knowing what they mean #Dick: Oooooh what’s that little wing? it looks cool! Jason: (blushing but can’t figure out why) Nothing! Fuck off!#Jason’s subconscious: he called me cool! :)#Jason storming into the Batcave - ‘WHERE’S MY COPY OF PRIDE AND PREJUDICE- DEMON BRAT I KNOW YOU HAVE IT!!!!’#Jason starts tagging the edges of Crime Alley #He’ll suddenly get on coms like ‘Get out of my territory Old Man!’ (How did he know we were here? He’s across town!)#dpxdc #dpxdc prompt #ghost king danny #summoning circles #summoning circle lore #danny phantom #batman #halfa jason todd #or at least some kind of undead #but I guess that’s only in the tags right now #my writing

944 notes · View notes

fishareglorious · 1 month

Text

youtube

1.8! 1.8!

#patch 1.8 #reverse 1999 #there will also be an eternity (and... door i think?) anecdote on this patch #Youtube #ВИЛА #АВКСИВИЙ #i'll be tagging these two by their russian names since im not quite sure how to write their romanized names #windsong #oliver fog #baby blue #medicine pocket #eternity #certified storm moments

81 notes · View notes

mishapen-dear · 5 months

Text

I think we overlooked the fucked up polycule dynamic potential of team bolas x the dog that hunts them

they gave him a house. he paid rent. he hunted them, picked them off one by one, but when they sought to hunt him he ran. the tormented and the tormented. the hunters and the hunter. them huddling around a fire, burning themselves as he lurks in the dark to devour any that stray too far from the light. when they gather their rocks and throw them as one he flees, tail between his legs as he hunts for his own safety

is there not familiarity in that? is there not love in the violence? let me kill you, i will return your greatest treasure. let me kill you, you’ve already destroyed me and mine. there is loneliness to the dark and hate in the bloodshed. what is hate if not the other side of love. what if obsession if not love driven too far. all of them bathed in the blood of the others, baptized by sin after sin after sin. mothers carry their litters in their mouths- when do the teeth at your throat start to feel gentle? bad once said about cellbit, “it was like throwing a ball, and saying fetch.” that went wrong for him. cellbit once said about bad, “you’ve gone soft.” that went wrong for him, too.

do you remember the slime kills? slime was bad’s first blood, his first taste of oncoming violence. bad was slime’s last kill, an end to the desperation that was sparked with the first base raid. do you remember that first day? bad on the water, slime on the shore, calling him in like a siren. ‘look at me, look how killable i am’ says the bait, desperately trying to build a trap even as the prey fears the untied-noose wrapping around its throat. do you remember the tension? do you remember how the sun punished them both?

‘look at me, look how killable i am,’ says the poisoned frog to the wolf. the bird to the dog. do you remember the kindness? the killing and the killing and the killing, and the laughter. the killing the killing the killing, and the earnest offer to help? remember how jaiden fed herself to the dog. remember how the dog listened. ‘where is your stuff? i’ll take you to your body.’ thousands of blocks away. then more blood, no screaming, just laughter.

do you see? do you see? they built him a dog house, and he paid them rent. hunters snd hunters. he killed them to bring back their children and he failed and they brought back his instead. how can he ever repay that? their blood coats him. his blood coats them. all of them animals. all of them desperate. remember the familiarity of teeth and the taste of your own death. when its all said and done what will they miss the most- being the hunters? or being the hunted?

and then they all make out and take turns getting beaten to death by jaiden. shes part of the group murder but not the romance of death. instead she gets to go to the club (the Spawn Rave)

#qsmp shipping #i didnt get enough sleep and thus im excused from all the things i say today #roier obsessed with killing bad and bad not even knowinf #philza in despair despite the dog running at just the sight of him #baghera spared. Just for a moment #i got tired so i didnt include those but i think we can all get weirder about whatever the fuck is up with these dynamics #while writing this i did forget i was trying to ship them but whats gayer than blood #too many of my post have been tagged analysis lately lets get sillayy #something something cold dog something something warm fire #something something defanged but still gnawing. something something sitting together in a snow storm just to avoid freezing to death

99 notes · View notes

nanopedayo · 6 days

Text

Do people still read Tales of Symphonia fics...... I want to write some so bad.....

#im so late to the party #but i want to write yuartel silly stories and i want to write kranna stuff too........#i mean with an audience or none i will still be writing up a storm #still couldn't help but asking the void #gonna tag this with tos tags #tales of symphonia #tos #tales of series #kranna #yuartel #yuan x martel #kratos x anna #personal

41 notes · View notes

megaxard · 1 year

Photo

ive decided to start transferring over some of my kh text post edits from twitter, circa 2020-2022! the first batch is riku (feat. repliku)

[original thread] [#2, xigbar] [#3, xemnas] [#4, soriku] [#5, leaisa] [#6, roxas] [#7, kh1] [#8, axel/lea] [#9, demyx] [#10, CoM] [#11, DiZ hate] [#12, CoM/coded]

Below: Image IDs

[Start image ID]

1. The Master of Masters: i can see through the eyes of every Goku figurine (No Name)

Riku: This post made me promptly put all my DB figurines (Riku’s Keyblades, Soul Eater and Way to the Dawn) in a drawer and I’m not sure why

The Master of Masters: it’s so dark

2. Yuffie: A person I just met said “yeah I grew up loving the Percy Jackson books” and I accidentally responded “so you’re gay.” He was, in fact, gay.

Riku: “nobody’s ever said it that bluntly before but yeah.”

3. Riku: Remember when you were 15 and you were convinced you were evil and irredeemable and completely insane but it turns out you were just 15 (image of KH1 Riku)

4. KH1 Riku, with Ansem behind him: my gender is male as in Italian for evil

5. with images of Repliku and Chain of Memories Riku overlaid, they look very similar: I remember this one time the neighbor’s cat, Simba, broke into our house to fight our cat, also Simba.

reply: Kin drama

6. Riku: My DNA test results came back positive. I definitely have DNA.

Repliku: quit bragging

7. Repliku: life fucking sucks and has no purpose

Marina and the Diamonds: I’m miss sugar pink, liquor liquor lips, hit me with your sweet love steal me with a kiss,

Repliku: Actually I’m gonna go burn a cop car!!

8. Riku: Don’t ever lose sight of what’s important in life (being gay)

9. DDD Riku, looking at a hologram Sora: (falls in love with someone who was nice to me in my dream)

[End image ID]

#storm text post edits #kingdom hearts #riku kh #riku #repliku #idk how characters get tagged on tumblr anymore. it was different for every fandom #anyway the goku figurine one is still one of my absolute favorites #also i wanted to write alt text but i refuse to use the new post editor and the 'captions' have a character limit

477 notes · View notes

skyward-floored · 6 months

Text

Whumptober Day 25: Storm, “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave”

The second prompt is more vibes then anything, there’s no dead guys here. Probably. Hopefully.

This is a continuation to day 22 :) It’s a lot of plot, but it’s plenty painful as well heh heh. There will be another part after this as well.

Day 22

Read on ao3

Warnings: much of the same as the first fic, more creepy vibes, blood, injury, some implied kidnapping, a liiiittle body horror, and an animal injury

————————————————————

A scream shatters Twilight’s peaceful sleep, and he jolts awake, sitting up and looking frantically around before realization hits him.

It’s Time. Woken by a nightmare yet again.

Twilight sighs, sad acceptance settling over himself as he calms down, and he looks over at the older hero. But the sight isn’t the usual one they’ve become accustomed to these past weeks, and Twilight immediately moves closer.

Time is gasping for breath, both eyes wide as they stare up at the sky, and Warriors is unsuccessfully trying to get him to look at him. He’s pale and shaking— which, unfortunately, has lately been the norm— but usually by now Time is sitting up and getting ahold of himself, and acting like he’s fine.

Instead he continues to lie there, gasping like a drowning man.

“Time,” Warriors repeats, Legend kneeling next to him with a pinched look on his face, “Link, can you hear me?”

Time’s breath rattles, but after a long moment, his eyes finally turn towards Warriors, blue and white both blown wide in terror.

“Did... what happened? He’s never done this before, was... was it the same nightmare?” Wind finally asks quietly, voicing what the rest of them are wondering.

“No,” Time gasps, face white, sweat pouring down his face. “No, it was— it was different.”

Twilight and Legend exchange looks, and Time chokes in another gasp, still trying to calm down.

“...I think you’d better tell everyone your dream, Time,” Warriors says in a grim voice. “And then you can explain to us what was different this time.”

Time gives him a look, but Warriors is firm.

“The time for secrets is over. If we’re going to figure this out, we need everyone’s help,” the captain finishes more softly, and Time closes his eyes, dragging in another ragged breath.

Twilight grabs his necklace and shifts into wolf form, moving to sit beside Time. His mentor reaches out a shaky hand, and Twilight allows him to run his palm over his head, running down to the thicker fur at his neck. Normally he balks at being petted like a common pooch, but under circumstances like these, he’s found it’s the best way to provide comfort.

And it helps. Time’s gasps slow, his breath evening out. His hands still shake, but he looks more settled, and begins to explain the nightmare he’s been having for nearly a month now.

Twilight already heard the explanation once, but it’s almost worse the second time with the others listening, knowing what’s coming. All of them are dead silent as he speaks, faces holding several differing emotions, but Legend’s face especially seems to crease more and more as he tells them of the violence and death he’s privy to every night.

“That... sounds like a legend in my time,” Legend murmurs as Time finishes the explanation. “Of the Hero before me. The Fallen Hero.”

“Who?” Wild asks in a whisper, and Legend’s throat bobs as he hesitates.

“Legend goes that the hero before me fought against Ganon, but... failed,” he explains, crossing his arms. “The princess of the time was forced to seal Ganon away without him, with the help of six other sages.”

Legend swallows.

“There’s a bit more to it, but... the legends say the hero died. Like... in Time’s dream.”

Time seems to have lost what color he’d regained, and his hand clenches slightly where it’s resting in Twilight’s fur.

“But you said it was different this time,” Warriors interjects, voice steadying. “How did it change?”

Time breathes out, and launches into a second explanation.

He tells them all how the beginning of the dream had been the same, but at the point where it usually ended, it had continued, into a confusing darkness and broken bodies, and images Time had trouble explaining, and couldn’t make sense of. Twilight wonders if he might leave a few details out based on how he hesitates at certain points, but he doesn’t call him out.

“And the end was clear,” Time finishes in a more serious voice. His fear seems to have hardened into anger, and Twilight eyes him worriedly. “The rest was confusing, but there’s no mistaking it. An enemy I thought long gone is back... Majora.”

Legend and Wild both look up, and the champion hesitantly reaches into his pouch, pulling out a mask in almost dizzying colors, with yellow eyes and small spikes at the edges.

“You’ve mentioned an enemy by that name before... when I showed you this,” he says cautiously, and Time nods.

“Yes. The mask that housed it was identical to this one,” he says as Wild hands it to him. “Though this one is empty, possibly a replica. Many years ago I destroyed the demon, but... it should not have been possible for it to return.”

They all chew on that for a moment, an owl hooting somewhere in the forest.

“...Unless it’s the Shadow’s doing,” Warriors finally says in a grave voice. “He’s brought back many an old foe. Who’s to say he can’t resurrect a demon?”

“That would take a lot of power,” Hyrule speaks up, his face shadowed with worry. “Even a dark being like the Shadow would need some kind of help, a conduit, or cursed object maybe—”

“It doesn’t matter how he’s back, we gotta stop him!” Wind interrupts, his face dismayed. “If Time’s dream was real, then there’s at least two people he was possessing and captured! They need our help!”

Twilight breathes out, and shifts back into a hylian, sitting down next to Time.

“You’re right sailor, but we don’t know where they or the demon are,” he says. “Time just said they were in a dark, stone room. That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

Somebody makes an odd noise, and Twilight looks over at Legend, raising a worried eyebrow at how pale he suddenly seems.

“...Veteran?” Sky asks, and Legend swallows.

“I have a mask like that as well,” he says in a low voice. The others turn to stare at him. “I could tell it had some dark magic in it when I found it, kept it for safekeeping. Maybe... maybe it’s like Hyrule said. Maybe all the Shadow needed to bring the demon back was the mask.”

A stunned silence falls over them, and Twilight looks at Time, his face still pale and grim.

He’s a bit less receptive of his ancestor’s mood now that he’s not a wolf, but there’s an equal mixture of anger and fear and worry on his face, along with the dark circles from so few nights of sleep. A change in the routine of torture he’s been submitted to seems to have woken him up a bit, and his face is more alive then it’s been in a while.

As horrible as the circumstances are, Twilight is a little glad.

“Where is it?” Time asks finally, and Legend pales again, as if he’s just realized something.

“It’s at my house.”

(...)

They break camp and leave immediately, knowing time is of the essence. It’s still dark out, but they’re close enough to Legend’s house that the veteran knows the way, leading them silently with a pinched look on his face.

Twilight can only imagine what’s going on in his head at the moment. Legend’s house is right by the castle, and not much further from Kakariko— if there’s a demon loose, it could have already wreaked all sorts of havoc.

Not to mention the fact that Legend’s house isn’t empty.

Twilight glances at Legend again, the veteran looking like he’s barely keeping himself from bolting off with his Pegasus boots.

Legend’s never explained exactly who Ravio is, but you’d have to be a fool not to notice how similar they look. Twilight is sure there’s a story there, but the point is, Ravio is important to Legend, despite what the veteran may show outwardly.

And he’s all but confirmed to be in the same location as a demon Time tells them once destroyed the world.

“...he means nearly destroyed, right?” Wind asks in a quiet voice as Time explains a little more about Majora to them, but Time doesn’t answer.

The information doesn’t make much sense, and neither does any of the situation, really. All they know for sure is that Time’s been plagued by nightmares for nearly a month, identical to each other except for tonight’s, in which two people had been alternatively possessed by a demon mask in a dark room somewhere.

They’re working solely off of assumptions and coincidences otherwise, and there’s a large part of Twilight that desperately hopes all of this truly was just a nightmare.

He knows better then that though. Nightmares like Time has been having aren’t normal.

They never are.

They reach Legend’s house at dawn, rays of sunlight barely peeking through the clouds that blanket the sky. Twilight feels a little hopeful at the lack of obvious destruction from the outside of the building, or the surrounding area.

The fact that the house is still standing must be good, right?

Legend doesn’t waste a moment in running up and shoving open the door, the others right behind him.

The veteran’s house is always a disaster, but as Twilight walks in, he sees it’s even worse then normal. Furniture has been knocked over, and books and maps and items are all over the place, mixing with glass from a broken window. Twilight sees clear signs of a struggle, things that look like they’ve been thrown, weapons fallen out of reach.

Any hope that it’s a coincidence goes out the window when he sees blood on the floor, and Legend quickly checks the rest of the house, shouting for Ravio.

But there’s no sign of the purple merchant, and Legend comes back into the main area with a grim look on his face.

“The mask is gone,” he reports in a biting voice, looking at a particular portion of the wall. “And so is Ravio.”

“There was dark magic used here, a lot of it,” Hyrule says quietly.

“That all but confirms it,” Warriors says as he closes his eyes, a grieved look on his face. “Majora is back.”

A quiet chirping noise punctuates the end of his sentence, and Twilight pricks his ears, turning his head towards where it had come from.

“Rancher?”

“Shh,” Twilight says in reply, and the others go quiet as he picks his way across the room.

He steps over a pile of what look like various magic rods, and over to a stack of maps, fallen all over the floor in a large pile. The chirp rings out again, and Twilight follows it to the corner, where the maps are piled particularly high.

Twilight lifts up several pieces of paper and parchment, and near the bottom, he startles at a little blue and white bird underneath.

Sheerow’s wing is crooked, blood in his feathers, and he fluffs up at the sight of Twilight, angrily clacking his beak.

“What is it?” Four calls, and Twilight crouches next to the bird, studying him.

“...It’s Ravio’s bird.”

“Sheerow?!” Legend asks, and the bird perks up a little, letting out a pained squawk as he shifts his wing.

“Easy, little guy,” Twilight soothes, and Sheerow glares at him a moment longer before slowly smoothing his feathers.

He blinks and tilts his head curiously as Twilight continues to make soothing noises, and Twilight scoops the little bird into his hands. Sheerow lets out a tired peep as Sky picks his way over and runs a finger over his head, and the bird looks relieved to have finally been found.

“Yep, this is Sheerow,” Sky confirms, having studied the bird a few times before.

“Ravio never goes anywhere without that stupid bird,” Legend mutters with a frantic undertone, starting to pace among all of his items thrown on the floor, “and I’ve never seen Sheerow get hurt, not even when he’s pulled weapons off me in stupid dangerous areas, or dragged me home even, how could he have—”

“Legend, calm down,” Warriors says, and Legend whirls on him.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” he yells. “My house has been broken into, my roommate’s been kidnapped, it’s extremely likely a mask got stolen and a demon got resurrected using it, the whole kingdom is probably in danger, and not to mention all those stupid dreams Time keeps having that are telling the future or past or I don’t even know!”

Warriors goes silent, and Legend swipes an angry hand across his eyes.

Sheerow lets out a squeaking sound in Twilight’s hand then, and nibbles his finger, bobbing his head towards Legend.

“Whoa, okay, you want to see Legend?” Twilight asks softly, and Sheerow chirps in an insistent way. The rancher picks his way back across the room, Sky in tow, and holds out his hands to Legend, the veteran looking at him with emotion swirling in his gaze.

Sheerow squawks, and jumps out of Twilight’s hands onto Legend’s shoulder, pecking lightly at his ear.

“Ow, what is it you stupid bird?” Legend asks, all bark and no bite, and Sheerow lets out another urgent series of chirps.

“Wait... I think he’s trying to tell us something,” Wind says, eyes wide. “Is that it, Sheerow?”

The little bird chirps, bobbing his head, and the heroes exchange looks.

“Wait, do you know where Ravio went?” Twilight asks suddenly.

Sheerow chirrups louder then ever, and Legend scoops him off his shoulder and into a hand, rifling in his pouch with the other. He pulls out a potion, and pours some into his palm, offering it to Sheerow.

Somehow the little bird knows what he’s doing and eagerly sips it up, beak clacking. He stretches his bent wing a few moments later, no longer bent, and does a little loop in the air, a triumphant caw ringing through the house.

“Can you help us find Ravio?” Legend asks seriously, and Sheerow chirps in a determined way and flies right out the door.

Legend leaves his disastrous home without hesitation, and the rest of them follow, Twilight staying by Time’s side as they run. The older hero has been doing a little better since they’ve been given something to do, but he’s still running on barely any sleep, and Twilight admittedly isn’t sure he’ll keep up.

Sheerow guides them to the east, the land growing more hilly as they go. The clouds above them thicken as well, white turning to grey, and Twilight can smell rain in the distance, a mark of the coming storm.

Time drags the longer they go, but he stubbornly keeps at it as they follow Sheerow up crumbling stairs and across old bricks. It’s an hour or two after they leave Legend’s house before they reach the yawning maw of a large temple, and they pause, getting their breath back, looking to Legend for information.

“Eastern Palace,” Legend reports, Sheerow flittering nervously around his head. “Pretty easy dungeon on the scale of things, mostly low-level monsters. I had to do it twice actu— would you stop that?!” he snaps at Sheerow, and the little birds chirps in offense and goes to sit on Sky’s shoulder. “As I was saying—”

Twilight hears thunder off in the distance, and a light rain begins to fall on their heads, small noises of dismay coming from them all. They move to go inside the palace, but then Sheerow lets out a noise like a shriek, and Time stops dead in his tracks.

The rest of them stop as well, drawing their weapons seconds after Time does, and Twilight hears Time let out a sharp inhale as footsteps echo from the entrance to the palace.

Two yellow eyes appear, and then a figure steps out into the rain, bringing with it sharp inhales from them all.

The figure that’s stepped out is barely recognizable as Hylian, his tunic torn and covered in blood that the rain begins to wash onto the stones at his feet. Darkness is coalesced around where the blood is thickest, patches over his skin in several places, twined like vines across his arms and legs. It covers the injuries that must be there, but what’s most noticeable is the mask covering his face.

It’s identical to the one Wild possesses, but its eyes glow with an extra malice as it seems to look around at them, stopping when it’s gaze reaches Time.

“Well well. I was wondering when you all were going to show up,” the boy says in a voice that makes Twilight’s heart stop.

He sounds almost exactly like Time.

He spares a frantic look at his mentor, and sees that Time’s face has gone eerily blank, though the glint of horror in his eye is impossible to erase.

Who’s under that mask?

“Where’s Ravio?” Legend demands, his gaze like steel as he points his sword at the demon.

Majora ignores him.

“My, you’ve grown, Hero. I see you’ve had some fun with some masks yourself!” he titters, staring at the markings on Time’s face. “Power like that is enticing, isn’t it?”

Time doesn’t falter. “Fight us as yourself,” he demands, his voice more matching the thunder that’s growing closer. “A puppet is unbecoming.”

“On the contrary, I rather like him,” the mask giggles, tilting his head so a few blood-soaked strands of blond hair are visible. “I’ve waited for revenge at my only defeat for a long time, and this only sweetens it. No... I think I’ll be keeping him.”

He pauses, and a flash of lighting strikes nearby, sending him into sharp relief.

“Or should I say... you?”

Pure horror hits Twilight like an arrow, and Time moves at the same time as the boy, a horribly familiar laugh ringing over the sound of thunder.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu time #lu legend #lu chain #all the links #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #day 25 #fic #storm #writing from the floor #don’t tag as ravioli please #thank you #I love Sheerow he’s such a spunky lil guy #his cheeps are so cute too #the ending is a little weird but originally this part was supposed to have a lot more along with it #but I ran out of time lol

107 notes · View notes

jakes3resin · 17 days

Text

Here's why Hallucination Bucky haunting Buck is amazing (there are many reasons but here's a big one): Bucky doesn't even have to be dead.

Sure, Bucky being dead works perfectly in this kind of AU. The inability to save Bucky leaves Buck bereft and alone in the world, so he holds on to the memory of Bucky so tightly he starts to see him again.

But!

The ambiguity of is Bucky dead or not is better. The reader doesn't know for sure, and Buck doesn't know. Hell the fic writer doesn't even need to know for sure. Leave that ending open y'all!

Buck having to go through his day swearing that Bucky is alive. He's fine. Bucky has to be fine. Him being fine is the only reason Buck can power through his day. He won't accept anything else until someone brings him Bucky's body.

And that can do a lot to a man's psyche.

Imagine it. Buck standing around Thorpe Abbotts after reassuring Harry and Rosie that Bucky is fine, he's simply back with the men taking care of them. Then he hears it. Bucky's laugh. He whirls around desperate and near joyous because of course Bucky made it out, of course he's laughing and about to yell at Buck to get his attention. Except what he finds isn't the John "Bucky" Egan that he left in Germany.

Instead, he turns around and sees the John he sent to London. Standing straight backed with cheeks that haven't gone through a diet of turnips and 'rabbit' soup, still wearing that awful sheepskin that Buck knows he traded away (Jack had given it back to him the moment he saw Buck) is His Bucky.

Arm raised to wave at Buck, Bucky grins. His smile is as bright as the sun, another spark of life Buck hasn't seen in months. Maybe years.

Bucky looks so young. Which he can't be because Bucky is older than him, but staring at this Bucky that no one else seems to realize is there that's what crosses Buck's mind. Bucky looks young. He looks happy and untouched by the hell they just went through together.

"Hey Buck!" Bucky's by his side without walking to him. "How was your flight? Ya miss me?"

And he falls into step once more with Buck chattering into his ear. Buck knows he isn't real, knows that Bucky isn't here, but he can't help but accept what little he has left of the other when he has no idea when or if he'll ever see Bucky again.

Because without a body, he has to live as if Bucky is still alive.

#hahahaha I'm evil sorry #Hallucination!Bucky #theres just so much you can do with this au #you dont even have to end the piece with Bucky alive and well you could end before you find out!#am i writing this post because a storm knocked my power out so i can't work on a/b/o fic? yeah but i didn't need the storm #mota #masters of the air #buck x bucky #john bucky egan #gale buck cleven #bucky egan #buck cleven #buckbucky #you could also end the piece with Buck recieving Bucky's dog tags from one of the liberated pows #you know the closest someone can get to his body as proof 😈

33 notes · View notes

leiawritesstories · 24 days

Text

building and building and building

@throneofglassmicrofics April prompts: "Crescendo"

word count: 821

warnings: i'm sorry in advance 🫡

enjoy.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the far end of the long, darkened hallway, a slightly-cracked door released a narrow spill of pale light across the floor. This late at night, all the overhead lights were off, the faintly musty-smelling hallway of the lower level of the music building lit only by a few dimmed panels so that anyone passing through didn't get lost in the dark. Through that cracked door, if one listened closely enough, there came the gentle sounds of a piano, bars of music escaping the room's soundproofing through the slight tilt of the door.

Aelin always came to the piano when she'd had a particularly rough day.

That night was no exception.

An endlessly long day of classes, two meetings that she was late to, critical comments on her latest research paper, spilling her coffee all over the sidewalk because some egotistical freshman hadn't been watching where he and his broccoli hair were going, and as the sour cherry atop her shit milkshake, she'd caught her boyfriend of eight months with his tongue down some other blonde chick's throat.

He hadn't even looked guilty when she caught him. Then again, she hadn't stopped to look, just slapped the shit out of him and left.

It was nearly midnight before she closed her laptop, left the library, and dragged herself over to the music building, descending the stairs and heading to her favorite practice room on muscle memory. Backpack abandoned on the floor, she switched her phone off and tipped her head forwards and rested her hands above the familiar worn ivory and ebony keys, letting the soft rush of the room's fan system push all of her cacophonous thoughts out of her head.

The concerto came easily to her fingertips, its opening chords slow, majestic, dipping from deep and solemn to higher, lighter. Like her mind--except it was still stuck in the low tones. Stuck in the deep, discordant ruts of exhaustion, doubt, and fear.

Her thoughts struck an endless incomplete minor chord, hollow and strained, missing a crucial piece.

At the far end of the hallway, a male figure paused, captivated by the gentle faraway spill of light and sound. Hesitantly, he placed one foot in front of the other, one cautious step at a time until he was nearly at the door, nearly in the light. The piano seemed to mimic his movements, the notes of the concerto building and building and building as he approached--breaking into a crescendo as he stopped, one hand almost at the door, some unseen force stopping him.

A brief beat of silence, and then the beginnings of a gentler melody, a second movement, a mournful, hauntingly beautiful, achingly soft music that ascended slowly, a lover shyly approaching the beloved. The man in the hallway felt tears prickle at his eyes, a rise of emotion drawn both from the heart-tugging tenderness of the piano and from the thick oily weight upon his heart.

The gentle melody intensified, weaving the melodic line into a cascade of rising arpeggios, a wave that built and built and built until it released in a drawn-out trill that trickled into silence before it returned to the initial theme--lingering, longing, a gasping reach across time and space. Another brief silence, and then the explosion of a final movement, sharp and light and dancing, as if the lover from before had turned headlong into another pursuit in attempt to distract from the heartbreak of the earlier movement.

He pushed open the door, let the soft light and grand music spill over him, but found himself rooted in place just inside the doorway as the woman at the piano, her eyes closed and her head tipped back and salt tears tracked down her cheeks, poured the ruins of her soul into the concerto. Her fingers flew over the keys with the lithe grace of a bird in flight, a glorious tidal wave of a crescendo building and building and building and cascading into a bursting crest, one last majestic return to the theme that ended in a single chord, struck five times in close succession, its finality echoing through the space.

Aelin's hands fell limp to the bench, fingers curling around the worn, threadbare cushion and weathered wood as her head tipped back, such unspeakable pain writ large across her features.

Rowan's heart cracked in the key of C minor, a darkly ironic echo of the final notes of the concerto his love had poured out. A plea, a cry, a voice from across an infinite rift, her music flooded his soul with an incommunicable sense of loss.

Knowing that the concerto was a farewell--the barely-open door was a sure sign she wanted him to hear it--he slowly crept backwards, his sneakers silent on the carpet, until he was no more than another blur in the shadowed darkness of the empty hallway.

Until he was completely beyond the reach of his Fireheart's love.

~~~

TAGS: please lmk if you want to be added/removed :)

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #prompt fill #throne of glass microfics #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #throne of glass fanfic #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aeli #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #a lil angst for your weekend #enjoy!!! love frederick <3 #the angst monster tag

23 notes · View notes

boilingrain · 10 months

Text

There’s something silly to me about Bluestar x Yellowfang

It’s just “yeah Firestar’s moms should date”

Old women with tragic backstories and the very orange boy they separately adopted

#it's a great ship I love it #listen you can claim Bluestar wasn't a maternal figure to Firestar & that she was just his mentor but you can't do that with Yellowfang #She canonically tells Fireheart that she wishes he was her son #That's not a thing left up to reader interpretation or anything. The direct quote (from Rising Storm) is #''I wished you'd been my son but I could not have borne a cat like you.''#(there's more to the quote but I can't fit all of it in the character limit of the tags)#(or technically I could but it would have to be several tags and I don't feel like doing that)#she also says ''I only regret that I will miss watching you become what Starclan has destined you to be.'' to him in that same bit of dialo #that is his mom. Like you cannot reasonably deny that #I'm going to shut myself up now before I actually write an entire essay about Yellowfang in the tags of this post #because I know myself and I know I'd do it #Warrior Cats #yellowfang #bluestar #bluestar x yellowfang #blueyellow #(I think that's their ship name?)#(I'd make a joke about how we should just call it ''Green'' but I'm sure that joke has been made already)#and because I mentioned Starclan's most special little orange boy #wc firestar #firestar #honestly if I ever decide to do fun character tags that's what Firestar's will be

135 notes · View notes

storms-corner · 4 months

Text

an experimental drabble where oksana dreams of being small

—

When Oksana cracks her eyes open that morning, something feels different. Like the world has tilted on its axis, and turned so large while Oksana was asleep.

Confused, Oksana holds her arms out in front of her. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees how small they are. They’re half their normal length, and her hands are tiny and chubby. Like they belong to a baby. Oksana does the same to her legs, lifting them up in the air. They’re small too. Her heart thumps in her chest as she begins to put two and two together.

The thing she’s wished for, the thing she’s cried and cried about to Eve — it happened. Had she not been regressed, Oksana would’ve asked more questions about her state. But she doesn’t give it much thought. Her little head only has room for one thought. Mommy.

Rubbing at her eye, Oksana clumsily rolls over on her side. She sees the bed, and realises that she isn’t in it. She’s laid cozily in a small, soft crib right beside it, with the side facing the bed being open. Oksana’s heart races when she sees that Eve is awake. Mommy, mommy, mommy.

Her small hands reach, and her mouth opens to speak, but her words are replaced by happy, if not somewhat desperate, little babbles. Eve gives her a sleepy smile, her brown eyes twinkling, and reaches her hand out. Oksana grabs onto two of Eve’s fingers. Just as she often does in real life. Except in this existence, two fingers are all that fit in her hand.

“Oksana,” Eve murmurs fondly. “You’re awake already, hm?”

Oksana, understanding that words aren’t of much use to her, just smiles. She likes this. Sometimes she doesn’t want to talk in the real world, but it’s often expected of her to be able to do so. Here there isn’t any pressure to talk.

“I bet you want to come to mommy, huh?” Eve says softly, pushing herself up to sit.

Eve stands up and leans over the bedside crib. Sunlight shines through Eve’s hair, and her smiling face makes everything feel okay. Eve effortlessly lifts Oksana out of the crib. In real life, lifting takes effort. Eve is strong, but Oksana is a tall girl who has to do half the work herself by wrapping her legs around Eve, even when she’s exhausted. Now her legs don’t reach further than just below Eve’s chest, and her head is gently placed to rest on Eve’s shoulder.

“Good morning, baby,” Eve whispers, beginning to sway gently. “I had this funny dream where you were so big. Bigger than me. It felt real. But you’re just as tiny as you were when we went to sleep.”

Oksana clenches her hand around one of Eve’s curls. Her stomach swirls. With hunger and with a familiar sadness. This world she’s found herself in seems to be the very opposite of the one she lives in.

“That was silly of mommy to dream,” Eve chuckles. “Why would I want to give up this, hm?”

As she says this, she holds Oksana in front of her and gives her face a row of gentle kisses.

When she rests her head on Eve’s shoulder again, and Eve’s large hand runs up and down her small back, and the world goes fuzzy around the edges, Oksana begins to understand that this is just a dream. Within minutes, she’ll return to the real world. Where she is taller than Eve, where her hand is larger than Eve’s, where her mind doesn’t always match her body.

Oksana doesn’t mind. As long as she can return to this world another time.

#this was just to try i guess? maybe it’s weird #but i could write a follow up :)#c. eve #c. oksana #storm's writing tag #eve and oksana

21 notes · View notes