The Dungeon is Ready for its Next Victim
Gem taps her foot, the soft sound echoing around the dungeon’s lobby. Hypno’s voice fades as the minecart takes him down, down into the dungeon. He had picked a hard run so she knew he would be a while.
The runs were longer now. At the beginning they were only ever in there for a few hours, barely able to poke around in the early parts of level one before running back. But now, with their decks filling up with cards and artifacts hidden deeper in the dungeon, it was often days before the hermits would return victorious. Not that it was exactly obvious to those in the lobby, there weren’t any windows after all.
They would return, adrenaline still flowing through their veins and shiny new cards in their hand. The brave ones would run again. Others would calm their racing heart and talk through their run. Many would crash, bodies falling slack against their friends in the lobby. Barely able to stay upright long enough to make it to their locker room before passing out for the night.
And yet they always returned.
There was something in the dungeon. Something there, just under the surface, that encouraged them to return. A desperate pull for more runs. For more greed.
So Gem waits.
And waits.
Let it be known that Gem is not a patient hermit.
The foot tapping turns into bouncing, which then turns to jumping. Jumping turns to elytra gliding and pretty soon she is flying circles around her friends as they chat. Comparing decks and planning out future runs.
And Gem is bored.
She’s up next after all.
She eyes up the walls. It’s not a trapped feeling per say, but the flat ground of the lobby is no longer enough to help her expel the excess energy. To calm the nervous energy that is slowly building in anticipation of her run.
And that’s when she spots it. A hole in the wall, only two blocks up. It’s a small decorative thing shaped by stairs and slabs, but just large enough that she knows she could squeeze in.
She sets her eyes on the prize and takes a running leap, flying up towards the nook and her fingers catch on the ledge. It takes some effort, but she manages to pull herself up fairly quick and with all the grace of the elf she is. And she’s definitely not out of breath afterwards, thank you very much.
Finally, she turns to crouch and finds a comfortable position to observe the lobby. Her friends continue to mill about below, some even glancing over to throw her a smile before continuing their conversations. It was just another Gem quirk that she knew they loved. Find the high point and simply observe. Maybe throw out the occasional jab. It was, of course, the second best way to spend her time, only second to sparring.
So she sits, arms resting on bent knees and back hunched to keep her hair from brushing the slab above.
And she watches.
She knew the little nook wouldn’t be big enough to stand in or even provide enough space to sit completely upright but at least she was pleasantly cozy despite the ever present chill. It calms her down, being up high like this. There is something soothing about being so close to the entrance of the dungeon, shard tucked safely into her pocket and her friends laughing below.
Her heart rate finally slows and the nerves fade enough for her to relax. Hermits slip in and out of the lobby as she begins to doze. They know she is next and she knows they will respect that, should she doze through Hypno’s exit.
As she dozes, something begins that she doesn’t notice at first. Something she doesn’t notice for far far too long, because it starts slowly. The blackstone at her feet begins to shift. Lichen pokes through the cracks and begins to crawl, growing up and over her feet.
No one notices when her toes turn black.
No one notices when the stone travels up, covering her legs in vines and ice.
No one sees the creeping vines travel up her back and tangle themselves into her hair.
When Gem finally wakes to the sound of a gong alerting her to Hypno’s successful run, the hermits have moved to the queue room for the evening. She feels stiff from the hunched position and maybe the perch wasn’t the best place to sleep, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be solved with a few stretches.
She tries to pull her arms down to push herself out from the nook, but something keeps her there. She can’t move.
Why can’t she move?
Her gaze flicks down towards her arms and her scream comes out muffled, muted. Her arms are covered in blackstone and lichen. Vines knot themselves around her limbs and freeze into place under the thin layer of ice forming around them.
The dungeon doors open and it spits Hypno back into the lobby. He holds his deck of cards and a handful of crowns. He lets out a sigh of relief and she screams. A second muffled noise that makes him glance up, confused until his eyes lock on her and widen with terror.
He only hesitates a moment before dropping everything and running towards her with a strangled shout. “TANGO GET UP HERE!”
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please can you write a fic where tech takes dear reader bird watching (or...like...whatever the star wars equivalent of that is) i crave wholesome fluffy goodness after.........THAT
{ doves - tech x gn!reader }
· warnings: none, just fluff and suggestive implications at the end
· word count: 981
· a/n: SOFTNESS. FLUFF. DELUSION. just for you and your comfort ♡ love u moonie!!
· radio: the sun is in your eyes, jacob collier
Sunlight kisses his face like golden fingers against his skin. There isn’t a cloud that can overshadow the peace in his eyes. Nothing but contentment while he watches the skies. With a hand on his chest and the other on his stomach, he lies in a rare bed of ease.
Relaxed by the sun’s warmth, the cool winds, and the gentle tickle of grass against his legs, Tech sighs gently through his nose.
“Have you drawn your birds yet, mesh’la?”
It’s a serious question, but the way he says it in the faintest jesting tone has your cheeks flushing red.
You look down at the empty pages in your sketchbook, clearing your throat.
“No,” you reply, setting your pencil down against the spine before closing the journal. “And I don’t think I’ll be seeing any of those doves. It might be too late in the day.”
The slight disappointment in your voice causes Tech to sit up, brows pinched in concern. “Perhaps you will have better luck tomorrow if we leave earlier in the morning. The rainbow doves leave their nests near dusk or dawn and it is midday.”
You shift, sitting crisscrossed on the blanket, and glance up at the sun with closed eyes. Its warmth beats against your face, gentle and comforting. After a moment, you sigh. “Maybe it’s best if we just move on. If the doves won’t come out on the sunniest day in the week, I’ll doubt I’ll get lucky tomorrow.”
“Mesh’la.”
You look at him, furrowing your brows when you notice him staring behind you. Slowly, you turn, eyes widening at the sight coming from the colorful trees in the distance.
Rainbow feathered birds come fluttering out from the shelter of the trees, the faintest sound of dove song greeting your ears like a hello. The sight of multicolored birds soaring into the sky is so beautiful that you nearly forget why you’re birdwatching in the first place. Quickly, you grab your sketchbook and begin to draw the scene, acutely aware of the blanket’s rustle.
Tech’s hands snake around your hips, hauling you in the space between his legs. He hooks his arms around your waist, chin settling on your shoulder as he watches you sketch. You feel the beat of his heart against your back, causing you to smile at the welcomed distraction.
“You’re hovering,” you murmur in a teasing tone.
He hums, adjusting his goggles. “I’m observing. Your artistic skill is fascinating.”
“Fascinating?” You giggle, brushing eraser shavings off of the paper. “Thank you. I love being fascinating.”
“You’re more than fascinating, mesh’la,” he adds, tightening his arms around your waist. “You are passionate and kind and I find your adoration of birds to be endearing.”
You smile, cheeks flushing red with a blush. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
With a stroke of your pencil, you finish the sketch and hold it up. With the birds flying across the sky, it looks as if you took a picture of the moment and put it on paper. “On this planet, the doves mate for life. They usually find their partners five to seven months after leaving the nest to live on their own and once they mate, they stayed paired for life.” You turn to look at him, catching the faintest trace of adoration in his eyes. Shy words leave your lips ever so slowly. “Will you be my dove?”
“Your dove,” he echoes in amusement. The look makes you giggle while you lean back against him, allowing him to take the sketchbook out of your hands. Tech eyes your drawing with a gentle gaze, lip twitching up in a small smile at the sight of your work.
“I would love to be your dove, cyare,” he says sincerely, gently thumbing the page. “My only request is that you draw me onto one of these pages among the other birds.”
At this, you move off of his lap and sit in front of him, eagerly snatching the book out of his hands. Pencil in hand, you face him and give him a cheeky grin. “Get comfortable, dove. This’ll take a while.”
“You’re being awfully eager,” he noted, smiling. “You’ve thought of this before, haven’t you?”
“Drawing you?” You chuckle shyly. “Maybe. I’ve just never mustered the courage to ask.”
“Well,” he grunts, lying down on his back to face the sky. After adjusting his goggles, he places his hands on his chest and looks at you, arching a brow. “Now you do not need to ask.”
You watch him with eyes full of love as he relaxes against the blanket. The sun’s golden hands gently cradle his cheeks until they turn pink, his eyes fluttering shut at the light. The wind combs through his curls, ruffling them up as his chest rises and falls with a deep breath.
“Hey, Tech?”
“Yes, dove.”
You lean over to curl a stray hair around your finger. It falls against his forehead and you smile at how cute he looks. With a lean, you press a gentle kiss to his lips and smile when he returns it without hesitation. When you pull away, he gives you a pleasant but questioning gaze.
“You’re… you’re beautiful.”
“Ah,” He clears his throat, shyly looking away. The only sign that gives his true feelings away is the flush of his cheeks, now red. “Th-thank you, cyare.”
“Always,” you murmur, brushing the curl away before sitting back. “Now, sit still. I need to get every detail.”
“I’m still.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
“That is not something I can control.”
“Then go to sleep.”
“If I could, I would attempt to-”
“I can tire you out.”
Your suggestive comment causes him to turn his head swiftly, lips slowly curling up into a small smile. “Finish your drawing and if we have time-”
“Alright, alright! I’m going as fast as I can-!”
taglist? taglist.
@discarded-beskar @lucyysthings @dangraccoon @burningfieldof-clover @cyarinka @zaddymaul @echos-girlfriend @ladykatakuri @sol-oya-6116 @corona-one @eloquentmoon @maulslittlemeowmeow @misogirl828 @theclonesdeservebetter @frietiemeloen @torchbearerkyle @witchklng @ivela3 @kaminocasey @sunflowerrex @nekotaetae @literallydontlook @agenteliix @starqueensthings @fives-lover @sunshinesdaydream
@chicknstripz @sskim-milkk @queenquazar @jedimastersovi @mo-i-ra @boomtowngirl @nahoney22 @techs-ass @babygirlrex0504 @questforgalas @littlebluebatbrat @crosshairs-wife @jambolska-grozdova @get-wr3ckered @arctrooper69 @thetiredtoad @edlix @sinfulsalutations @aconstructofamind
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