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mooshywrites · 3 months

Note

Would it be alright to request what Halsin would think of a sorceress Tav? There's custom dialogue lines from him if Tav is a Druid, so I've always wondered what he'd say and think related to her class specifically.

The Druid’s Sorceress

Fem!Reader x Halsin

Masterlist

Art commissions

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A/N - Here’s a few bite sized sorceress blurbs :) <3

Word count - 2K

Warnings - Fluff, lots of game spoilers, slight rewriting of plot points

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“I’m lucky to have met you, Sorceress.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

~Tiefling Party~

Halsin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you for most of the evening. At first, he tried to convince himself that he was only drawn to you because of how you saved him. But Halsin knew, behind that thought, was a desperation to get to know you. To spend even a second more with your magnetic aura.

When you finally danced over to talk to Halsin, he could’ve sworn his heart jumped into his throat.

“Enjoying the party, Druid?” You asked, your words slightly tipsy from the various flavors of wine being passed around the party.

Halsin chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I am indeed. Are you also enjoying the party…” Halsin paused, realizing he had no idea what the Hero of the Grove’s speciality lied in.

“Sorceress.” You offered, throwing Halsin a charming smile. “I’m a Sorceress.”

Halsin smiled back, happy he had just another piece of your personality known to him. “Like The Blade. Wyll, was it?”

You scoffed, swishing the wine in your chalice, “He’s a warlock. And between you and me, I’m much better.”

Halsin laughed warmly, nodding his head. “I know not who is better, but I know you yourself are quite impressive.”

“I’m not the only one.” You replied, appreciatively.

Halsin didn’t miss the way the sorceress’s cheeks flushed slightly. He bit back his words, afraid he would come on too strong. He hadn’t known you for long, and well… he couldn’t bring himself to allow the kind of distraction you had become. Not yet at least.

“So tell me about the Shadowlands.” You questioned, taking a step forward to hear the Druid over the music better.

Halsin only offered a thin smile, trying his best not to convey how those words twisted in his chest. “You needn’t worry about those things until morning. Go. Enjoy your party, hero.”

Halsin was thankful that you took his advice, leaving with a genuine smile. He would’ve talked to you all evening if circumstances were different. Would’ve invited you to sit with him under the stars, somewhere more quiet.

He couldn’t though. Not while the knowledge of how nature rotted on the journey’s path. Something he should’ve tried to fix much much earlier.

No, getting to know the Sorceress would have to wait.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

~Dancing Lights~

The camp was quieter than usual that night. The fight with Oliver was difficult, the fights along the way making the end battle even more so. Once you all finally made it back to camp, most went to their tent to lick their wounds.

You, however, trudged your way towards Halsin’s tent.

Halsin was whittling away quietly, hoping the movements would lessen his stress. Thaniel lay further in the tent, still completely unconscious. It was almost as if Thaniel was in a deep peaceful sleep, resting upon Halsin’s bedroll. He wanted to go with you to find Thaniel’s other half, but he couldn’t tear himself from the boy.

Halsin startled when you cleared your throat, too entrenched in his thoughts to hear your approach.

He dropped his whittling looking up to you hopefully. “Did you find it? Will Thaniel be whole?”

You sighed and plopped down next to him, picking up his unfinished wooden duck. You rubbed the shavings off idly, your voice weary when you spoke, “Yes, I found him.” Your eyebrows furrowed together. “Oliver said he’d come back to Thaniel. I’m never playing hide and seek again.”

“Oliver?” Halsin started.

Before he could continue, there was a stir in the corner of Halsin’s tent. Halsin’s hand shot over to grip yours as he stared at the bundle, his eyes wide.

Your own eyes widened as you saw a small boy sit up off of the furs, yawning and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Thaniel's other half, whom you had only heard stories of before, now sat before you both. His small horns sat delicately on his forehead, and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he blinked away the remnants of sleep.

Halsin's grip on your hand tightened, a mix of awe and disbelief etched across his face. "Is this... Is this truly him?" You whispered, your voice barely audible.

Halsin nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes. This is Thaniel wholly put together, In the flesh."

The young horned boy blinked up at both of you and tilted his head curiously. "Who are you?" he asked towards you, his voice melodic and excited as he pointed.

You giggled softly, giving the boy a shy smile. “I’m a friend of Halsin’s. I helped him save you.”

“She’s a sorceress. Quite a good one.” Halsin added proudly.

Your cheeks heated slightly, not sure how to take the compliment.

Thaniel narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “A sorceress, hmm? Cast something then!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again at the childish pout the boy gave you. Who could say no to that face? You took a breath and whispered the incantation, circling your finger in the air to cast ‘Dancing lights’.

Beautiful blue orbs blipped into existence, shining gentle light over everything below it.

Thaniel's eyes widened in wonder as he watched the dancing lights float around the tent. His excitement was infectious, and soon both you and Halsin found yourselves smiling at the sight.

But as the lights swirled and twirled, something peculiar happened. They began to take on different shapes—a miniature dragon, a cascading waterfall, a blooming flower. The lights had a life of their own, responding to Thaniel's imagination and bringing his fantasies to life.

Thaniel clapped his hands in delight, his laughter filling the tent. "This is incredible! Can we make them do more?"

You nodded slightly, in awe of how the boy could manipulate someone else’s spell so easily.

“He acts as if he’s never seen magic before. Even though he can use it in such an incredible way.” You murmured, turning to Halsin.

Halsin’s chest filled with warmth when your eyes met his, “Maybe he hasn’t seen magic from one so beautiful.”

Your cheeks blushed brilliant red, your eyes unable to break away from the man.

Thaniel‘s voice cut through, making the two of you look towards him and realize the dancing light’s had completely disappeared.

“Miss Halsin’s-pretty-sorceress?” He asked, tinged with sarcasm, “Can you bring the lights back?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

~Owlbear Cub~

Scratch and Owlbear cub played loudly, running through the center of the camp. You watched on, the display a nice distraction from the long day.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the camp, you couldn't help but feel a swell of warmth in your chest. The playful antics of Scratch and the Owlbear cub had brought a much-needed respite to the weariness that had settled upon your companions.

With a contented smile, you leaned back against the rough trunk of an ancient oak tree, observing the camaraderie forming between Scratch, a stray pup you had taken under your wing, and the Owlbear cub, a gentle baby with fluffy feathers and curious eyes. Their chase carried them further into the camp, weaving through tents and scattering supplies in their wake.

Laughter echoed through the air as your weary companions watched on, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Even Astarion with his unyielding glare, couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight of the unlikely pair's boundless energy.

As dusk began to deepen, Halsin bumbled over to sit next to you. He carried his whittling tools, starting his next project as soon as he was on the ground. The two of you had grown much closer in the past days, now comfortable enough with each other to sit together in silence. It was nice, being able to unwind after the stressful days. You didn’t feel the need to make endless conversation, content to just appreciate each others presence.

Scratch and the cub quieted in the distance for a split second before the little Owlbear squeaked in pain. Your head shot up, concern rising in you as you looked towards them.

The Owlbear rounded the corner, limping to you with a whimper. Scratch followed close behind, barking as if he was trying to get everyone’s attention.

Halsin stood up, “Give me just a moment to see to Scratch and I’ll see to the cub.”

You watched as the cub slinked over, crawling up into your lap as it let out pitiful chitters.

You gathered the creature into your arms as much as you could, cooing over the poor thing. You couldn’t see what had hurt it, only that it was favoring its back paw.

You gently examined the Owlbear cub's injured paw, careful not to cause any further pain. It seemed like a sprain, and you sighed with relief that it wasn't anything more serious. The little creature nestled closer to you, seeking comfort and reassurance.

Halsin returned with a concerned expression, crouching down beside you. "How is the cub?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

"It's just a sprain, nothing too serious," you replied, giving the cub a gentle stroke. "I think some rest and healing magic should do the trick."

Halsin nodded, reaching out his hand to cast a spell. A small green glow started to radiate outwards before it fizzled.

“Oak Father Preserve me,” Halsin muttered. “It seems I’ve been rendered empty of mana.”

You shook your head, smiling at him. “I’m not. I can do it.”

Halsin leaned in as you cast your healing spell, a warm glow shining against the cub’s feathers

As you channeled your magic into the sprained paw, a soothing warmth enveloped the Owlbear cub. Its beady eyes stared up at you with an almost grateful expression, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of joy at being able to help your oversized baby.

The Owlbear crawled out of your arms, much more sure footed than before. It tentatively tested its weight on the healed paw, Scratch standing close by as if he felt protective of his oddly shaped little sibling. A delighted squeak emanated from the cub’s throat as it realized the pain was completely gone.

Halsin watched in awe, his eyes gleaming with admiration. "You truly have a gift," he murmured, his voice filled with reverence.

You gave him a modest smile before turning your attention back to the cub, gently nuzzling its soft feathers. It nuzzled back against your cheek affectionately, expressing its gratitude in its own adorable way. It’s funny, how quickly this cub changed from wanting to eat you to wanting to be coddled constantly.

As you continued to sit there, Halsin leaned closer, his shoulder brushing against your own.

“You’re able to do so many different kinds of magic. You’re so powerful.” He murmured.

His hand reached over to stroke the owl bear softly before it rested on your own.

“I’m lucky to have met you, Sorceress.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at Halsin's words, his touch sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. With a soft smile, you turned to him, your eyes meeting his. "And I am lucky to have met you too, Halsin," you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity.

The setting sun cast an ethereal glow upon the two of you, enveloping you in a moment of quiet intimacy. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle rustle of leaves and the beating of your hearts. It felt as if time had come to a standstill, allowing this connection between you and Halsin to flourish.

As you sat there, hand in hand, the camp around you bustled with activity once again. Companions prepared meals, shared stories, and tended to their duties. But in that small pocket of serenity beneath the ancient oak tree, it was just the two of you.

A Druid and his Sorceress.

#halsin #bg3 halsin #baldurs gate 3 halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x sorceress #halsin blurb #halsin fluff #halsin fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fluff #baldurs gate 3 fluff #halsin fanfic

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chvoswxtch · 11 months

Text

invasion of privacy

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank catches you with something you shouldn't have, and your world gets turned upside down in more ways than one.

warnings: swearing, lots of angst, brief mention of bomb violence

word count: 2.1k

a/n: I hope y'all enjoyed the nice & light hearted last chapter, because we are kicking up the drama from here on out. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“What’s this?”

“Hm?”

You were in the process of proofreading through your latest article one more time before submitting it to Ellison, and your attention was focused solely on the mountainous layers of black text on the screen in front of you.

“This.”

Frank’s voice rang harshly in your ears, and the shift from his previous gentle inquisitive tone jarred you to the point of whiplash and broke your concentration completely. Turning to face him in puzzlement, your breath hitched in your throat when you realized what he was holding.

The file with his name on it.

Your eyes nearly doubled in size, and they hesitantly raised to meet Frank’s. The warm melted chocolate of his irises had darkened considerably with anger, and you could see a ring of betrayal burning around his pupils.

“I don’t know.”

Frank let out a dry scoff when you blurted your words out, his jaw clenching so tight you swore you could hear the way his teeth ground together from across the room. There was a chaotic frenzy disrupting his usual calm demeanor as he looked through the contents of the file. Every single page he furiously flipped through was another drop of gasoline trickling towards an unavoidable explosion.

Whatever was inside that file, it turned Frank into a man you didn’t recognize.

You quickly rose from your chair to take the stand in your own defense, hands outstretched in an olive branch towards him.

“Frank, I swear. I haven’t looked at it-”

“Bullshit!”

The catastrophic boom of Frank’s voice echoing around your office startled you, and the four walls suddenly felt a lot thinner with his massive fuming frame taking up a majority of the space. His reaction had anxiety racing through your bloodstream, but your anger always managed to come out on top.

“I haven’t. I didn’t go looking for that, Frank. Someone left it on my desk-”

“When.”

A sudden wash of guilt doused the unjustified irritation you felt. Frank stared you down from across the room, the flimsy material of the file succumbing to the strength of his hand, his features a concoction of fury and treachery. You had to avert your iniquitous gaze to confess.

“After the gala.”

Frank blew out a deep exhale through his nose, incredulity blowing his eyes wide open as he chuckled humorlessly.

“That was a fuckin’ month ago.”

“I never opened it. I forgot I even had it-”

“You expect me to believe that? You been carryin’ this goddamn thing in your purse every fuckin’ day for a month now, and you ain’t read it? You just forgot it was there? Just cause I don’t have a fancy ass degree don’t make me fuckin’ stupid. You fuckin’ reporters, you’ll do fuckin’ anythin’, yeah?”

Frank’s voice got louder and louder with each word, like warning claps of thunder that signaled how close you were to an inevitable downpour. He was nearly yelling by the time his heavy boots brought him right in front of you, and you found yourself staring down the eye of a violent hurricane.

For the first time since you had met Frank, you were afraid of him.

Even though you felt frozen in place, your fingers shook violently with trepidation at your sides. You couldn’t look away from the storm brewing hastily in his eyes. You just hoped he could see past his own wrath to find the truth in yours.

“I didn’t read it because I thought it would be an invasion of privacy.”

Frank’s eyes narrowed into accusatory slits, his nostrils flaring to accommodate his furious exhales. His voice had a sharp edge to it that cut deeper than any blade ever could.

“Invasion of privacy. That’s real goddamn rich.”

There was nothing you could do. He had all the evidence for a conviction. You had been caught at the scene of the crime, and all you could do was beg for a lenient sentence.

“Frank-”

At that moment, your door swung open to reveal a very distressed looking Billy Russo. When his lips parted to speak, he suddenly paused, as if the tension lingering thick in the room was as visible as a dense fog, and his eyes flickered between you and Frank before settling on you almost in an expression of concern.

“Sorry if this is a bad time, but we gotta talk.”

A sense of relief immediately rushed through you at Billy’s intrusion, grateful to not be alone in your small office with an incredibly pissed off Frank Castle. Billy didn’t miss the way you practically sprinted towards him without another look at Frank.

“We can talk in the conference room if you-”

“Actually, I need to talk to both of you.”

Billy looked directly over your head to stare at Frank. There was a look on his face that you didn’t know him well enough to read, but as you glanced over your shoulder at Frank, you noticed that his face was void of any anger and instead had morphed into confusion. When you looked back in Billy’s direction, he was staring down at you with clear remorse carved onto his sharp features.

“There ain’t no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna get right to it. Homeland is pullin’ your detail.”

All of the oxygen in your lungs felt like it had been knocked completely out with that one sentence. You gaped at Billy, and his lips tugged downwards in a pitiful frown.

“I’m sorry-”

“What?”

You could hear Frank stalking over towards the both of you, and the evident skepticism and irritation that layered his gruff voice. But his and Billy’s voices sounded muffled in your ears, as if your head was submerged underwater.

“Look, I wasn’t happy about it, alright? They don’t think she’s a prime target anymore-”

“The hell she ain’t. Those assholes-”

“Found a new target. More high profile. Cause of that and the fact that they ain’t threatened her in over a month, they’re pullin’ her detail and it’s gettin’ reassigned.”

“To who, Bill?”

Billy’s eyes flickered to meet yours, and you could see the apprehension shining in them along with a sliver of guilt.

“Who is it, Billy?”

The clear defeat in your quiet voice made him sigh, and his lips parted as he stared down at you in contrite-ridden sympathy, as if he was trying to figure out how to soften the blow of whatever was about to come next.

“Steven Price.”

Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt at that moment. While you were navigating your disbelief and confusion, Frank was battling to control his already unraveling vexation.

“What?”

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin' me.”

Billy glanced between you and Frank when you spoke at the same time. He completely ignored Frank’s outburst as he brought his hand up to gently place on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze in a gesture of comfort. He let out another sigh of exasperation while he gazed down at you.

“Homeland wants to keep this under wraps, they ain’t even lettin’ it hit the media, but you deserve an explanation. This is off the record. Price’s office got a threat letter with demands forty eight hours ago, and yesterday a vehicle that was supposed to be takin’ him to a debate was blown up. Lucky for him, he wasn’t in it. Local news was told to report that it wasn’t a terrorist attack, just a faulty engine or somethin’. They’re tryin’ to avoid more mass panic. But, Homeland is takin’ it extra seriously-”

“Because of his family name and position.”

There was complete detachment in your voice as the reality of the situation sank in. Steven was more valuable to them. He was the one they thought was worth protecting. No one would bat an eye if a lowly journalist was murdered by a terrorist group that she antagonized. But a man that came from one of the oldest wealthy families in New York that had connections all over the world and was currently running a political campaign? That would be front page news.

“You really wanna protect that asshole?”

Billy dropped his hand from your shoulder to turn and face Frank, clearly annoyed by his inquisition.

“Of course I don’t. But Homeland-”

“Fuck Homeland. It’s your company, Bill. You can say no.”

Frank’s voice had an eerie calmness to it, but it was convoluted with reminiscent indignation and the faintest sting of an allegation.

“You think I didn’t try? I don’t think you understand the situation I’m bein’ put in right now, Frank.”

Billy and Frank appeared to be in some kind of silent standoff as they stared each other down. Billy wore his mixed emotions of annoyance and dubiety clearly on his face, and it translated into the way his fingers twitched at his sides. The slight furrow of his brows showed that he was upset by Frank’s unspoken challenge that he wasn’t fully utilizing his power like he had said.

Frank on the other hand was completely stoic. The only giveaway he had about this whole situation at all was the glow of rage still burning in his eyes.

“When’s this happenin’?”

The placation in Frank’s gruff voice bothered you. It sounded like he was routinely asking Billy about the weather, not when you were gonna be thrown to the wolves to fend for yourself.

Billy straightened his shoulders as he stared at Frank for a moment, pursing his lips into a thin line.

“Already has. I came to collect you and the others.”

You suddenly felt lightheaded and nauseous with the way your heart had plummeted into the pit of your stomach.

This was really happening.

“Listen, darlin’-”

“It’s not your fault, Billy.”

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t look at either of them. Not that Frank probably would even look at you. He hadn’t so much as glanced at you in the slightest since Billy walked through that door. A deep sigh sounded beside you as an expensive sterling silver tie clip came into view. Billy braced his hands on your shoulders and dipped his head to catch your eye line. There was an expression of severity on his face, like you had seen when he held you in this exact same way in front of the elevators the night of the gala.

“I’m gonna figure somethin’ out for you, alright? I’m not gonna leave you hangin’. Just…sit tight. Try not to cause any trouble.”

Billy attempted to flash you a charming smile, but it didn’t even meet the edges of his lips. After giving him a small nod, he stared at you for another minute with an unreadable expression this time before giving your shoulders one final squeeze and taking a step back. He momentarily glanced over at Frank.

“I’ll be waitin’ out front.”

Billy granted you one final look of condolence before leaving you alone with Frank.

When you turned to face him, he wasn’t even looking at you. He was staring at your office door that Billy had just left through with a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher. He almost looked completely indifferent, but there was an aura of suspicion staining that callousness. You swore you heard every tick of the clock snapping clearly in your ears for the next sixty seconds before he finally shifted his attention to you.

Frank’s face was completely blank. There wasn’t a shade of an emotion that you could detect. His features weren’t twisted up in any kind of clues. He looked just as impassive as he had the first day that you had met him. Seeing him revert to that state after months of progression in your complicated relationship hurt worse than any heartbreak you had ever experienced.

He was staring at you like you were a stranger on the street.

Frank wordlessly folded up the file and stuffed it into his jacket pocket, his vacant eyes staring into your pleading gaze. At this point, you wished he would go back to yelling at you. You would take something, anything other than this tortuous silent treatment.

He wouldn’t actually leave you like that, would he? He said he wouldn’t. He swore he wouldn’t. Frank would always be there for you, to keep you safe. That’s what he had promised.

Right?

You waited for him to say something. You stared at him in desperate expectancy for him to do something to fix this nightmare. You held your breath for him to make the same promise that Billy had, to figure something out.

But as quietly as Frank had come into your life, he was now slipping out silently.

And just like that, he was gone.

tags: @hopeful-evermore @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed@fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe

#frank castle #billy russo #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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m3gahet · 5 months

Text

I wrote a fun little scenario featuring @thatwritingho ‘s Olive, Robin, and the boys. You can read it under the cut it was fun to do <3

This was weird.

The four of them are just hanging out in Robin's living quarters, shooting the shit as the manager chops away at some seriously large onions. It was rare to be invited into the scarily neat flat. Alabaster walls, marble floors, sleek black furniture.

It wasn't exactly inviting but Olive assumed that was exactly the blond's intention.

With that thought in her head it was even weirder watching her almost seem relaxed, especially with Pickles and Skwisgaar around. Olive held a smug sense of pride in being part of the selective few Robin didn't hate from the get go. She found herself watching mindlessly as the three joked around, a snicker escaping her watching Pickles almost fall off the barstool as Robin tossed something his way. She didn't snap out of it until realizing her attention was being demanded by the drummer.

“You good?” He asked, pierce brow raised and green eyes soft with concern. She sat up straighter on her stool and attempted to catch up on the current topic of discussion.

Which had apparently become knives.

“It seems like it sharps.” Skwisgaar stated, clearly confused by something.

“It's sharp, just not sharp enough.” Robin explains. She lifts the cutting board and sweeps the onions into a pan, sizzling as they hit the hot metal.

“But in the movies-”

“Skwisgaar, those are movies.” Robin is still holding the large kitchen knife as she puts a fist on her hip. Only the petite blonde could exclude that kind of intimidating energy in a pink apron and her fine hair in pigtails. “I'm not saying you couldn't fuck a dude up I'm just saying you'd need a good amount of force behind it.” Olive gets a kick out of the soft pout the guitarist gives feeling scolded.

“I feel like that hurt worse, ya know?” Pickles adds, looking to Olive for confirmation.

“Oh fuck yeah.” She exclaims, leaning onto the island counter. “Think about it like this. If a blade is sharp enough you might not even notice you've been sliced but a dull blade?” She grins at the morbid mental image she's begun to paint in her friends minds. “You gotta really hate the fucker to put them through that.”

“Brutal.” Skwisgaar says simply, Pickles nods in agreement before taking a swig of his beer. Weird as the whole situation is, it's kind of comfortable? It's nice to see Robin as relaxed as she can manage and the boys are always fun to be around. “How do yous even know dats?” Skwisgaar asks as Robin moves around him.

“Robbi would be into knife play.” Olive jokes before bursting into laughter at the guitarist's fearful expression and the way Pickles chokes on his own laughter.

“She's definitely got the rage fer it.” Pickles muses after clearing his throat with the aid of Olive patting his back firmly. She doesn't remove it from its place even with the drummer's airway cleared. The two of them snicker at Skwisgaar's visible concern.

“Ams you hearing dis?” He asks, He jumps feeling small hands on his waist before shoving him slightly.

“I said you could be in my space if you were useful.” Robin scolds. Olive wonders if she had even heard the discussion before seeing a rare glint in her dark eyes. “Why? You wanna find out?” She teases, lifting the edge of the knife towards him. Skwisgaar swallows hard before pushing her wrist down with a glare.

“That's not an answer, ya know?”

#my shit #oc x canon #mtl oc #metalocalypse oc #olive axworthy #Robin Greeves #just four friends and their wildly undefined relationships #what is Robin making? idk

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omies-odd-writing-spot · 2 months

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BFDG prompt 1

[Okay I really liked this, it was a prompt from my doom discord server. it came out really well so I'm editing a bit more and posting it here! not perfect but hope you like it]

“Please, anyone, if you can hear me, if you're out there…” The woman spoke into the small microphone. She closed her eyes tight to the sounds outside of the room the woman was stuck in, the screams had only partly stopped.

At least the human screams.

“Is anyone left?” She asked, defeated but still having to try as she curled up. “The Arc base is overrun, I dont… don’t know if there’s anyone else alive.”

All her and their data was backed up off site, something should be saved. Hopefully to be found once the demons pulled back.

“Is anyone else alive?” The woman asked quietly, paused as there was a deep vibration and screaming from the demons outside the room she was in. “Please…don't come.”

She did not want to die, but did not want more to as well. It reflected in Elena’s voice as she curled up tight for a minute while hearing the slightly muffled, not really human-adjacent scream before hearing the hell altered and full demonic creatures getting excited and running around her hiding spot. She wanted to ask for help, but knew it was hopeless so a soft whimper slipped out as she tried to shut the communication systems off.

“Help me…” the wisped words slipped out as it shut off.

There was an increase of activity on the other side of the walls. Did the demons find another survivor? Elena could only tuck herself farther under the table and curl up, trying to calm down her heart. Though knowing it was only a matter of time before something broke into the office room she was in. Everything was ringing and time fuzzed, just as the woman realized there was an eerie quiet as her breathing got under control again. There was a creaking at the main, double set of doors before a stressed sound of metal was heard. Elena could only cover her head and try to hold her breath as she could only hear the pulse of her blood. Fighting the panic as the office was broken into.

It took a long minute to realize she was not homed onto, and torn apart. A strange sound finally broke through, a low rumbling that was steady, but also…tapping. Elena looked up through her shielding her arms. There was a mass of….metal?

It took almost too long to recognize that it was someone kneeling down beside the big table. The size scale was so off that it took a few moments to realize it was a form kneeling down. A massive hand was tapping the ground in a pattern, and that low rumble was… becoming softer? As if to draw her attention to him.

Olive, black and tan armor, almost alien like metal over massive limbs. Intricate but also solid to hold up against the groves of fangs and claw marks. Part of the armor on the closer left leg was…healing itself?

The massive form, a practical giant in comparison, started to shift. The rumble paused and Elena could hear and see a deep breath. Then the rumble started again, low and thunder deep, almost a vibration in the air as the big creature put both hands on the ground, lowering themselves down until a helmet the woman had only seen in security feeds was peering under at her.

All at once, she recognized who was staring at her.

How could she not? She spent the last several years studying this being from a distance.

But knowing a lion was massive and seeing one up close were two very different things.

The Slayer was watching her very much like a predator. Glowing green eyes were focused on the small human- gods his thigh seemed bigger than her whole self-!

“...help?” The word slipped out of Elena before she even realized that she said something.

The large head tilted to one side, clearly hearing the whispered words. Then shifted as the rumble almost seemed to pick up. He was moving, sliding his left arm under the table, moving it to tilt as his shoulder slid under. The blade in his forearm was retracted, but the massive hand had Elena reflexively flinching away from the Slayer, even though she knew he was more… belevent, or neutral towards humans. And then the tilt of the table had what was on top sliding off to clatter and crash. Elena yelped and jerked away from the sound-

And into the large hand suddenly behind her.

Her neck slid between his fore and middle fingers before the massive hand closed around Elena’s whole upper chest. Arms pinned, she could suddenly smell the metallic scent of blood, realizing the black was… it was demonic blood that had been…burned? Death char clung to the Slayer as he pulled her out of her tentative safely and into the open.

The table rocked and crashed back down once he pulled the woman free and sat up, still kneeling and all but dwarfing the human. His other hand came up, catching her legs that weakly tried to kick in protest and chuckled.

He chuckled at Elena.

The giant was amused at her attempts to get free? At her fear? Was the Slayer not as belevent as she thought? The woman whimpered, unable to help it as she was, for the lack of a better term, examined. She was tilted and shifted, the other massive hand holding her knees together and-

And then the impossible grip loosened?

She was being moved, the grip on her legs released. There was a scramble from Elena as she was lifted and pressed to the Slayer's right shoulder. Once her feet were braced the giant's left hand then loosened and let her drop onto the shoulder. His head was tilted to watch her as his right arm came up, giving the human another spot to brace against.

He purred at her, once finding that Elena was holding onto his armor and collar ridge herself. Standing up with a slight hunch, grabbing the rifle-like weapon in his left hand. The big head tilted to watch as he checked the energy weapon over.

Elena made an interesting sound, confused but clinging tight to this only source of safety as she was carried not unlike a toddler. Once realizing what was around them as the Slayer walked, she pressed her head to the thick neck beside her, hiding from the torn remains of those that did not get to the evacuation ship.

There was a low sound that vibrated from the Slayer and through Elena. Like feeling the earth itself shifted and pulsed through her bones.

Reassurance. Protective.

The Slayer rumbled the Primordial words out, he had already cleared most all the demons and possessed. Taken and freed the trapped soles. He just had to get this human to the safety of his portal. It should open up by the mentioned backup servers. Things he needed to get anyways for Vega, and his Elite Guard should have that all secured by now

His steps were steady and long, in a ground eating pace as he left the hell created slaughter. Then his own slaughter of the demons. All the while giving a low rumble to reassure the only survivor he found.

#doom fanfiction #doom slayer #doomguy #BFDG story #story prompt #doom au #doom prompt #?#BFDG Elena Richards #Elena Richards #omie's writing #doom g/t #Big Fucking Doom Guy #Big Fucking Demi God

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ratcatcher0325 · 2 years

Text

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #21)

Chapter #21. Alexander versus a vet. Who will win?

Previous: Chapter #20

Next: Chapter #22

Word Count: 3,721 Read Time: Approx. 29 mins

CW: adult language, angst, injury, dehumanization

Tag list: @gatlily @grbene @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007 @honey-olive, @kitn-underfoot; @bittykimmy13; @cloudwatchingtoday

_____________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #21: Maladies

[Alexander’s POV]

The receptionist lead Natalie through a glass door and down a hallway, to the examination room. I couldn’t help but maintain my death grip on her pinky, as she carried me along. I normally would have found her stroking of my head and neck to be anything from mildly annoying to downright condescending, but in this moment it was actually comforting. She was showing me, in her obnoxiously human way, that she was there for me. Moments later, with the door shut behind us, we were alone in the private room.

She sat in one of the two provided, plastic chairs, setting her purse down in the other. In front of her (and behind me) was a Formica countertop connected to some cabinets with aluminum handles and a small utility sink. Hanging on the walls, slightly crooked and uneven, were framed diagrams of a cat’s skeletal and circulatory systems as well as a poster of different dog breeds. There was a dusty, fake ficus in the corner. The buzzing florescent light gave everything a cold, sterile and washed out appearance. This was clearly the motel 6 of veterinarians. I shuddered, wondering what that meant for the quality of the service. What an ugly, horrid place. I began to understand why animals of a lesser intelligence cried upon entering.

I was so grateful to be alone with just her, even if only for a few moments. Being introduced to new humans was always, inevitably, an excruciatingly embarrassing experience. Especially when this one was likely going to prod around in my infected wound. How much pain was I about to be in?

“Alexander? You okay?” It’s like she’d read my mind. My head snapped up to meet her eyes, her brow was furrowed slightly. She’d shifted me around in her hands so that I was now leaning back, cradled a bit awkwardly between her two cupped palms. I used my hands to push myself up a bit, wincing at the pain as I dragged my leg.

I sucked air into my lungs as I tried to calm my nerves, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“I’m sure the doctor will be kind and gentle. You’ll be in good shape in no time.”

At least she restrained herself from flat out saying ‘vet’. “You don’t have to placate and lie to me as if I were a child.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… I can see you’re frightened and I want to reassure you that I’m looking out for you—“

“I’m not frightened! I’m perfectly relaxed!”

********

Just then, the door across the room slammed open with a loud and sudden squeal. Alexander immediately jumped and cowered behind the wall of my fingers, squeezing tightly onto me with both tiny fists. Normally, I would’ve found the impeccable timing of this to be hilarious, but right now I only felt bad for him. Poor thing. I placed the pad of my thumb between his shoulder blades. I’m right here with you.

The vet stormed in, his bespectacled face buried in charts clamped to a dirty, scratched up, old clipboard with a chunk missing from the bottom right corner. Dr. Greene was a barrel-chested, big-boned man, with almost nonexistent hair thinly covering his liver spotted cranium. His face was broad, blunt, and splotchy in complexion. He was mumbling to himself as he entered, which I was just able to catch the tail end of, “…. Trisha if you schedule another one of these goddamn new patients between my surgery rotations—“

As I stood to meet him, Alexander clutched protectively in my cupped hands, he stopped suddenly as though he realized what room he was in. Hurriedly, he peeled his skin tight, blue latex gloves from his blunt, meaty hands. I couldn’t help but notice they looked stained with some sort of splatter…. I didn’t want to think about just what it might be. They cascaded into the otherwise empty plastic waste bin with a distinguishable rustle. He carried the chart over to the sink as he washed his hands. I glanced down at Alexander, who’s quaking I could feel though the surface of my palm. I wanted to cradle him against my shoulder and high tail it out of here. But where else could we go? This was the only vet in a thirty mile radius that was remotely within my meager budget. I felt ashamed that finances limited my ability to properly care for him.

Over the din of the rushing water drumming against the aluminum basin of the sink, Dr. Greene cleared his throat, still not actually looking at either of us. “So. You’ve got a pet who got himself into some trouble, eh? Male, early thirties, no papers, no vaccination records… you sure you didn’t steal some rich kid’s birthday present off their front porch?” He finally turned to look at me, tilting his head downward to peer at me over the rim of his half-framed glasses.

“E-excuse me?” I felt a flash of anger tighten my chest. He was looking at me and assuming I had stolen Alexander? What sort of classist fucking bullshit—?? His eyes were small, dark, sunken in, puffed from over work.

A soft dry cackle escaped the man’s lips, “Apologies, uh, Ms….” He glanced back at the chart, “Ms. Marquez, that was my poor attempt at a joke. I’m Dr. Richard Greene. We’re grateful you brought your companion in with you today…” Like I had literally any other choice. He put on a fresh pair of latex gloves before continuing, clapping his hands together with a loud, rubbery smack that made Alexander jump, “Now, what seems to be the cause for concern?” He eyed me again from below his glasses. I simply looked to Alexander and raised a brow. It was his body and his injury, he had more of a right to answer that question than I did.

“Hello, yes, I, the actual patient in question would be happy to answer that.” The vet turned his gaze to look upon the little man in my hand, who was now sitting up with a board straight spine, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and chin defiantly tilted in the air. He did not like being ignored, and I really couldn’t blame him! Dr. Greene with a visible smirk, nodded for him to continue, “I received a dog bite from an adolescent German shepherd… my patella, collateral ligaments and surrounding tissue were rent, and crushed severely. Now, I appear to have contracted a rather significant infection. As we speak, I am suffering from mild nausea, lightheadedness, disorientation, headaches, chills as well as severe swelling at the site of the infection, including purulent drainage—“ he sucked in a lungful of air to continue, only to be halted by the low rumble of the doctor’s laughter.

*********

He took off his spectacles and wiped the sweat from the bridge of his nose as he chuckled, quietly at first and then loud enough that I was forced to cease in my testimony. He replaced his glasses before crossing the room towards myself and Natalie. “Wow!” He exclaimed, flashing teeth that were too white and straight to match with his blotchy and irregular complexion, “You are just one smart little pet, aren’t you? Ha! That’s the best I’ve seen yet!” He immediately regarded Natalie again, “Did you teach him to recite all that? I’ve seen it done before but not to this—“

“I’m not reciting anything! I’m trying to give you an accurate snapshot of the extent of my injuries. Now, please, listen to what I have to say!”

“It’s true!” The woman above me chimed in, “He really is that smart. He knows what he’s talking about.”

The doctor, far more unsettling to behold in his disgraceful descent into old age from this much more… personal.. vantage point, bent at the waist to get far closer to me than I was comfortable. I braced, my upper lip showing my teeth as I fought as hard as I could to keep from shaking. His breath smelled sharply of peppermint. My heart roared beneath its cage as I refused to break eye contact with this creature ten times my size, his thin lips were pressed into a smile, “Bravo, little pet. Bravo! You want to come intern with me? You could be our new secretary….” His eyes gleamed with condescension. I felt the steam rising to pour out of my ears. “Now let’s have a better look at that leg of yours, shall we?” Gigantic hands, three times the size of Natalie’s, began to encroach on what little space I had left between his overwhelming visage and my own corpus.

I heard Natalie draw a sharp breath as she pulled away, stepping back. I squeezed her flesh with a shaky fist as she rocked back, jostling me in the process, “I’d much rather set him down on the counter. He hates being handled.” Thank you, Natalie. By comparison to this nightmare in a white coat, I’ve come to better appreciate your idiosyncrasies. The doctor backed off, and I was suddenly lowered down, down onto the icy surface of the counter that made me wince when it made contact with my barren legs. While we settled, the doctor was fetching a rolling stool. I glanced quickly over my shoulder at Natalie, who’d placed her hand, perpendicular to the counter, a few millimeters away from my spine. Without breaking my gaze with her, I reached behind, and placed an outstretched palm on the tip of her pinky. She’s looking out for me. I’m going to be alright. Perhaps through sheer repetition, I’d start to believe it.

With the unpleasant grind of plastic and rattling metal on linoleum, the veterinarian wheeled himself before me. He opened a drawer and fetched a pair of magnifying lenses and a head lamp and placed these both around his skull. Then, he retrieved another object that made me tremble ever so slightly: suture scissors, small and incredibly sharp. Putting both the lenses and light in place which blared with a blinding intensity that made me groan and shield my eyes, he began to drone in a cold and calculating way, “In order to see the extent of his wound, I’ll first have to remove these bandages. Normally, I would apply restraints to guarantee immobility, but as you two seem to have a shared understanding, I’ll ask you, Ms. Marquez, to kindly restrain him, here…” Suddenly with a force so strong the wind was knocked from my lungs, a massive meaty finger was pinning my chest down to the table.

“H-hey!!” I choked, but to no avail, I was hardly audible to the people above me. The doctor continued without missing a beat.

“And please restrain the ankles like so….” He pinched my legs together between two forceful fingers that made tears spring into my eyes. There was more chuckling as the doctor seemed to notice something significantly funny for the first time. I was tempted to bolt upright and demand what his problem was, but feared being clotheslined by his prodding finger again I remained, obediently, splayed out on the counter. After a moment, he clarified, “Who’s bright idea was it to force him into that getup? It’s quite amusingly ill suited for a pet with his temperament!”

Without missing a beat, Natalie and I both snapped back in unison, “It’s a long story!” We shared a look. The instantaneous softening of her gaze helped settle my heart and my nauseous stomach just a bit.

“Mmm, I see, better left unsaid then.” He suddenly seemed altogether disinterested, “Now, if you please, Ms. Marquez?”

I felt her eyes on me, she raised her brow, asking for my permission. Frightened as I was of him, this unholy monster with thick concave glass for eyes, I trusted her, and knew she wouldn’t harm me. I nodded curtly, pressing my lips together and furrowing my brow as I tried to put on a brave face.

*****************

Seeing him lying there like that, before the pair of giant (even by my standards) blue-gloved hands, I was once again reminded just how minuscule my favorite angry, little friend was. For all his self righteousness and courage, he was a very, very fragile little being. I hated that I’d have to participate in holding him down, but I knew it was more a precaution than anything else. With the lightest of pressure, I gingerly rested a finger tip over his thundering chest and very softly held his ankles between my two fingers. I watched tension melt from his little body as I touched him gently.

Going to the doctor was scary for humans… I couldn’t imagine if my doctor was ten times my size!! I was so proud of him. I figured I would have definitely started bawling long before now if it were me in his shoes. The vet cleared his dry and hoarse throat, “Alright. And, here, I’m simply making a small incision into the bandages to remove them…” at the sharp metal edge of the tiny scissors edged underneath the bandage, I watched as Alexander’s whole body went rigid, but he made no sound whatsoever, the tendons in his jaw popping as he ground his teeth. His brilliant blue eyes, glassy from pain and exhaustion stared up at me, searching for an anchor to hold on to. I’m right here, I’ve got you.

Suddenly the sound of air being blown through teeth in a sharp, disapproving whistle, pulled us both back to the present, “Mmm... this is far more significant than I thought….” He gripped Alexander’s leg around the thickest part of the calf with two massive fingers. I felt a lump in my throat just watching his giant hands on the tiny limb. “Now, he’ll feel a bit of pinch here…” it annoyed me greatly that he only addressed me and practically refused to speak to his sentient patient directly. Very slowly he increased the pressure. Alexander yelped, I felt his heart rate spike. The doctor seemed to take no notice, he started rotating the joint. The tiny man cried out, pushing against my finger on his chest.

“You’re hurting him! Please!”

He was unfazed. What was wrong with this man? Wasn’t he supposed to care about little creatures? “He’s lucky it wasn’t worse… much worse.” He let go. Flipping the lenses and lamp up on top of his forehead, continuing as he wiped his glasses on his jacket lapel, “I’ll need to run a few more tests to see the true extent of what we’re dealing with. Go shopping, run some errands and come back in two hours or so and we should have the lab results by then...”

Alexander scrambled to sitting, staring up at me wide-eyed. I placed my hand around his back, “W-what??? I’m not… I’m not just going to leave him. I’m staying right here and watching while you run whatever tests you need to.”

The doctor smiled, “Ma’am all of our equipment is in the back. There’s really nothing for you to do while we have him back there… it’d be a waste of your ti—“ my heart was breaking. He’d have to go somewhere where I couldn’t follow???

“It’s not a waste of my time. I’m not leaving here until he comes home with me.”

A heavy, exhausted sigh was followed by a curt, “Suit yourself….”

“I’d really prefer to stay with him throughout this whole process. Any chance you can—“

As the man rose on creaking knees, he pointed to a laminated piece of printer paper that read: “Lab for authorized personnel ONLY”

“One of my techs will be out shortly to collect him. I hope you brought a book with you….” With that, he disappeared through the squeaking door.

“I hope you brought a book with you! What a fucking dick! Did you hear how fucking shitty he—” I snarled, but heat and wriggling against my palm cut me short. I looked down to see Alexander, shoulders caved, body shining with sweat, open wound throbbing and weeping afresh, as he pressed himself as closely as he could into the protective wall that was my hand. My heart shattered. I dropped immediately to a crouch to get closer to eye level. “Hey. Hey…” he buried his head against the base of my index finger. The only way I could tell he was crying was that my flesh became wet in one tiny little area where his cheek was pressed against me. “Oh, Alexander don’t… don’t cry….”

“…You’re going to be just fine… that guy’s an asshole but you’ll power through this, I know you will.” As I spoke, I gingerly wrapped my fingers around his tiny ribcage and delicately supported his legs with three fingers. Finally, I sat him down in a palm, tipped against my chest.

He clung to my shirt like it could somehow protect him, “I don’t want to go back there. What if they’re careless? What if they drop me? What if they administer medication for a completely different species and I’m dead within minutes?? I don’t want to die! Please don’t let me die!!” He white knuckle gripped onto me, shaking and stammering.

“Woah, woah, it can’t be that egregious back there! They wouldn’t stay open with mistakes like that!”

“No! You don’t understand! It happens all the time. I’ve worked… I mean… I’ve heard of case after case of malpractice and neglect. There is a particular bias against pets in the veterinary community… unlike their other charges, we can talk back…” he was whipping himself up into a frenzy. I had no doubt he was right, but in this moment, the cold hard facts were only going to give him stomach ulcers. Suddenly, with enough speed to startle him into silence without harming him, I pinched his rotator cuffs between a thumb and forefinger on either side and lifted him up until he was less than half an inch from the tip of my nose.

**********

Woah, hello there, Natalie. She was all I could see, could feel, could think about. Her breath warm and inviting was enveloping me as it rustled my hair. I was dangling there, an insignificant weight propped up by nothing more than her fingers. “Alexander?“ Yes? You already have my full attention. “I know you’re scared. You have every right to be. But… I also know you. And one thing you are, without fail, is strong-willed. I know you aren’t going to let them do anything to you without a fight. So let them have it if they deserve it. You’re quick on your feet and incredibly smart. Use that to your advantage. Remind them how similar you really are to them. I know you, angry little nightmare, and you’re gonna be just fine. Besides, I’ll be doing everything I can to make sure you get the care you need, alright? If they so much as harm a hair on your head I will kill them myself… sound fair?” I felt warm all over.

Something significant had shifted since I’d cried in front of her yesterday. We were…. Dare I call us… friends? Allies? I wasn’t sure what term fit us best quite yet, but, nevertheless, I felt for the very first time that I was not alone in my fight. I had her. And stupid as she could be, she meant well. Frankly, that was more than I’d ever had and I was, I realized, grateful for it.

“Thank you, Natalie. I don’t know where I’d be without you….”

She shrugged, “Mmm, dead, probably!” She broke into a mischievous grin.

“Don’t speak too soon!” I shook my head, almost getting lost in the humor and nonchalance of it all. However, my reprieve was cut short as the awful grind of that squealing door ripped though my eardrums. I gasped as Natalie shifted me in her hands, setting me in her cupped palm, so I could turn over my shoulder.

“Ms. Marquez? We’re ready for him now!” A small woman in periwinkle, ill-fitting scrubs appeared at the door, her choppy, cropped hair clearly died a pitch black. Paging the door with the heel of her boot, she extended her hands, for me… I gulped. There was the beautiful warmth of a thumb caressing my hair, down my spine as we marched forward, toward my impending doom. I suddenly found myself being raised up, until my head and neck were level with her mouth as she whispered only to me.

“Remember what I told you? You’re so much stronger than you know. Let em’ have it and don’t forget I’m right here for you, no matter what. You’ve got this.” There was one stride left before we’d reach our destination. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as warm, wet lips collided with the crown of my skull. My whole body suddenly ceased to feel like my own. I was melting into her, dizzy and dazed.

A sharp nasally voice cut through my reverie, “Awwwwww! Aren’t you just precious??? Yeah, you are! Yes, you are!” I suddenly thought a quick and unexpected death would be a preferable demise to whatever brand of personal hell this was. I found the warm, gentle touch of the only human I dared to trust slipping away as I landed in blue, latex-covered hands instead. They were hot, rough to the touch. Despite my best efforts, my body shook without my consent, “Awwww, he’s just a scared little fella! It’s okay!” She placed a rough, textured gloved finger on my hair and dragged it downwards, ripping and tearing at the roots as she did so.

“Argh! Don’t!” I thrashed my head and neck away from her.

“He really doesn’t like to be touched. Please don’t condescend to him. He’s much smarter than that.” The woman now holding me just chuckled quietly, settling her finger much too intimately close in my lap, instead.

“Don’t worry Ms. Marquez! We’ll take very good care of him! No need to worry! Enjoy your afternoon!”

I locked eyes with Natalie, my breath catching in my throat and then, in the breadth of a heartbeat, I was behind a squeaking metal door, out of sight.

#Doctors are scary #Vets are scarier #He's got this #Maybe #A Fraction of Justice #oc:alexander #oc:natalie #g/t related #g/t community #g/t au #g/t writing #g/t story #g/t #giant/tiny #gtcommunity #gt

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ackarcue · 1 year

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New year, same old me

Ramble time, including headcanons and my own experience with this series

Carter has secretly been practicing with his sharp cards. He claims it’s only because Ridley got them for him and it would be rude to not at least open them. That does not explain his deadly accuracy.

Leila has discovered ribbon dancing, to the delight of the twins

Whenever Theo’s bow malfunctions, Ridley is always more than happy to fix it, with company of course.

Olly nearly got killed by Ridley when he told her that he woke up Top Hat with an air horn. The wrench flung at him reached Mach 3. Luckily it was just a prank Olly saw with a fake air horn.

Kilroy adopted Carter out of pity, but the note sent by Dante is what set him over the edge. Over the violent, vengeful edge.

Personal series opinions and experiences

It is mega awkward that Kalagan and my cowboy oc, J.J. have the same eye color.

Speaking of Kalagan, at first I thought Leila had it the worst, but reading book one and four made me realize how evil this rat really is. Believe me, my oc has ran hands with Kalagan on many occasions.

Dante is on semi-thin ice with J.J. The whole theater fire incident is not lost on him, and he makes it known well that even though he would defend the blorbos with his life, he is fine with letting Dante die if it ever came down to it.

Olly nervously pesters J.J. about his last name being Oliver. Yes Olly dear be a goof near the once-famous outlaw.

For some reason Carter’s moral code both impresses and frustrates me, and this takes form in a scene where Carter is made fun of by some of Oliver’s gang members: “Look at that boys! Mr. Lockey doesn’t like to steal, it’s easy when he’s snug under that roof over his head!”

A fight scene between Dante using his spark wand vs Kilroy and his blade wand would be awesome. You know I am in the correct on this matter.

I am so glad writers like @pikablob, @magic-to-write, and @lovemesomeagnst exist and keep the fanfics pumping.

In fact, my writings kinda take these blorbos caught in the crossfire of a multiversal war between three worlds of fantasy, superheroes, and sci-if. Ridley got yeeted to some superhero school in that repost with magic-to-write, so there’s already meat on those bones. Shoot all my other fandoms, plus J.J., are primarily entangled in that. Obviously I rarely share this because that really doesn’t fit here. Perhaps I’ll share more from the blorbo view to at least make it relevant.

#the magic misfits #this is a good fandom to put this #this is also the first fandom I joined on here #wanted to finally pour out a few more of my goofy ideas #it feels great #cowboy vs magician les go #what y’all think

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a-shape-changer-in-winter · 2 years

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A Praise Chorus [What if grief is an offering?]

I’ve been (re) reading a lot of Simone Weil recently [unmixed attention is prayer], and about ten minutes after I took this photo, I had to ask myself: “is it loneliness if I want to be witnessed in the midst of it?” There is freedom and wonder in recognition - but there is also a terribleness to it. We get used to holding things that would be painful for anyone else to touch. But protecting our private despair doesn’t heal it - we just lug it. Anyone who’s carried unmetabolized grief for years knows that isn’t sustainable. The psychiatrist R.D. Laing proposed that we arrive here as Stone Age children. He believed we inherited the entire lineage of our species. So we’re carrying all of this generational [and for some - systematic] grief in addition to our own. And yet, it’s “normal” to cry alone after seeking out an abandoned parking lot or quiet room —or not to cry at all. I’m fascinated by this concept of ritual grief, where you go off by yourself to weep, and when you return, the group welcomes you back (wtf) and thanks you for helping to empty the communal cup of sorrow. How many of us have ever been thanked for our grief before? We think of grief as a burden we lay on someone else. But what if, as Mary Oliver said about that box of darkness, it’s a gift?

I’m trying to learn how to take in a landscape without trying to change it. I want to touch your sorrow without trying to solve it. I want to hold the feathers stuck between your shoulder blades and return them to you tarless. Like my therapist told me: “it’s not a (binary) question of whether we believe we’re worthy of love, desire, intimacy, and belonging - it’s a question of how much” We are all coming to realize [like Simone Weil] that: “[...] the soul knows for certain only that it is hungry….The danger is not lest the soul should doubt whether there is any bread, but lest, by a lie, it should persuade itself that it is not hungry.” We are aching to break that spell of denied hunger, desperate to go into these hidden places, and sometimes someone’s cup is so full, they’re going to spill it before they get there. So I’m trying to facilitate the moment when everyone in my life has permission to say, “This is who I am. This is what I carry”. Because I know that’s a life-changing, life-saving event. At some point in our lives, we each have been painfully exiled through prejudice, contempt, or our own (or others') failings, but sometimes, we are ostracized by a transformation that doesn’t include us. Each of these is uniquely painful and heartbreaking - but I am trying to find the offering in “Your past is not a threat. It’s what brought you to me.”

I think that miracle of sitting here with you can be enough. It’s all in what we often fail to notice. After reading Ross Gay’s “Book of Delights,” I also developed a personal delight radar in [what I used to think were] simple and mundane things - because I was too distracted to pay attention to a sunset or a poem that could break my heart. Rilke was convinced that “[…]the Spring-times needed you deeply. Many a star / must have been there for you so you might feel it. A wave / lifted towards you out of the past, or, as you walked /past an open window, a violin / gave of itself. All this was their mission. / But could you handle it? Were you not always. Still, distracted? [...]” - You know? The moon needs you to breathe it into your lungs. Your friend needs you to leave them a messy voicemail about how much you love them. Everyone who treasures you wants something from you that will last, that they can hold and carry in their heart. We’re blocked from seeing and engaging with what’s around us because we’re always looking for something else. That’s our plight as humans; it seems, doesn’t it? Looking for what isn’t there instead of what is - hellbent on getting back what we’ve lost. Immense loss and sorrow came around, and they threw us to the ground into the depths of confusion and bewilderment, maybe into extreme isolation, depression, addiction, and shame. But I don’t think it was out of some sadistic cosmic horror but out of a necessity to weave the dark parts into our being. He [Rilke] also said God is ripening even when we don’t desire it. I want to believe there’s another phase after that - when and if we’re willing, everything can change beyond recognition.

Perhaps, this is [Ada] Limón's driving conviction in her latest collection [The Hurting Kind] — that to be "eyed" by someone is to be an "I."

To be made whole by being not a witness, But witnessed.

Of course, the tears [and reprieve] might not come at that moment. It’s impossible to [authentically] cry on demand. Even in a small circle of trusted friends, perhaps only a few of us might grieve. But the others can support those individuals and thank them heartily—because they helped everyone. And the next time, it might be you or me. I am trying to learn how to think like a village. The ritual isn’t just about me doing my work; it’s about making it possible for others to do theirs. We all need attention from the group; there’s nothing wrong with that [as much as my inner critic/perfectionist tries to negate it]. We also need to grant attention, to bear witness. Nearly every interior experience is informed or was started by [an] exterior experience. So it feels like it’s constantly swirling around, but I don’t have a measured, thematic way of understanding [the inexplicable] other than framing it as a conviction. We’re all in a perpetual struggle between the selves we must put out in the world and the ones who want to cultivate our inner silence. It’s a challenging balance, living in this world with all its distractions, animosity, and traumas while nurturing the creative self from which the heart speaks. I’m not sure it’s possible to find a permanent balance, but it’s impossible to continue making art without that ebb and flow. I’m great, perhaps too good, at taking care of that part of myself that is essential only to me. The world doesn’t care! And I don’t care because I don’t want to connect with everyone, which can make it harder to insist upon a calling (especially any form of healing) if the demand only seems to come from within, which my therapist would say is a cognitive distortion [because the world does need it!]. Our task is to carry grief in one hand and gratitude in the other and to be stretched large by them. These emotions are infinite and incomplete, and very few things can hold that kind of dialectic energy - willingness is the only thing I can think of outside a prayer or poem.

Keats and Blake described the soul as the physical medium from which we can speak the truth about our lives. That version of the soul invites the marginal, excluded, and unwelcome pieces of ourselves into attention. It’s found at the edges, in culture, and in our lives. It takes us down into the places of our shared humanity: sorrow and longing, suffering and death. The language of the heart requires us to be authentic, revealing what lies behind the image we try to show the world, including our flaws and peculiarities. This manifestation doesn’t care at all about perfection or getting it right. It cares about participation. Our soul is revealed in dreams, reflections, and images, our most intimate conversations, and our desire to live a life of meaning and purpose.

I want to defend the future possibility of some words appearing on the page that will be equal to these times and to what I feel and what you feel - that is, we all are wrestling an angel who’s got us by the throat. My lit professors argue against silence and intellectual obfuscation. They say: tell us how it feels. Well, we are trying. I am trying. But as DeLillo dramatized [in White Noise], it is nearly impossible to discuss feelings with video reels [I never asked to see] playing loudly, crying so operatically - that you cannot hear the quiet breaking of someone else’s heart. Yet, every poet I love continues to manage this nifty trick of wrestling sentiment away from TV’s and TikTok’s blight against all things soulful and human. I would applaud for their [supposedly] small but significant triumphs to me. They work to keep both sides of the equation - brain and heart - present on the page and in my life. It forces me to lie down where Yeats said all the ladders start - in that foul rag and bone shop of the heart. It’s our moral obligation to be revolutionaries, to engage, grieve, be enraged and saddened - while offering praise, practicing delight, and tending compassion and joy. It’s exhausting work, but a heart that does not deal with its sorrow will harden to the world's wonders and evils, and I don’t want to miss out on the wonder. If there’s a better road out there, I want us to build it. If there’s a light at the end of the [last] tunnel, I want to swallow it. Whatever mystery lies ahead - I want to echo Ada’s praise chorus even into the inevitable darkness - “Fine then, I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf - unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all.”

#blog

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solradguy · 1 year

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Might be an odd question, and I'm sorry if it's already been asked, but how did you come up with your fursona?

Not odd at all!! But it's a long story hahah I gotta start from the very absolute beginning. Minor warning for a mention of animal death.

So the first one was an orange and white cat with an olive green trench coat, glowing neon green eyes, a red bandanna (pirate-style, not ninja-style), and they had 7 stripes on their tail. They happened sort of on accident because I was actually 12 years old and couldn't draw humans in a way I was satisfied with and just drew people with cat heads instead. Idk where I got that idea from, probably Thundercats or Swat Katz or something lol. Eventually this character evolved from being based on my actual cat, Toby, to being a character I used to represent myself, 7oby. This fursona is what I refer to as 7oby v.1. They had a sword too, Excalon, that made a blade of frozen ice that was powered by the radiation that my fursona absorbed. I wanted to write a comic with them at once point and had a whole setting and cast fleshed out but this was right around when I entered a very dark period and self-criticism kept it from ever happening.

Unfortunately, Toby, the cat 7oby v.1 was based on, passed away in early 2013. I was really close to this cat, we'd been through a lot together. Around this time I was kind of falling out with the idea of having a fursona too and Toby's death made drawing 7oby v.1 feel... depressing. I tried mixing up their design a little around this time and decided it would be best to just retire them entirely.

This led to 7oby v.2, which was an android with a powerplug tail and 4 motorcycle exhaust pipes on his head lol. I was going through a lot of identity changes around this time (2013-2014) and had a falling out with a friend where they called me a robot and I got a little spiteful about it. I still kind of like 7oby v.2's design but he was a pain in the ass to draw. He didn't last long.

In 2015 I started missing having an actual fursona. I'd gotten a little back into the fandom and having a fuzzy guy I could draw hanging out with my friends' fuzzy guys is a lot of fun. But I needed to design a fuzzy guy again. I didn't know what species to go with and I didn't want to go with a house cat again so I asked my biologist friend for ideas and he suggested a spotted hyena. This was around the time I started realizing I was probably trans so I thought female hyena biology was especially humorous. 7oby v.3 was to be a hyena.

7oby v.3 has gone through a lot of changes haha

7oby v.3 from 2015 through 2017 was just a normal spotted hyena.

From 2018 on he had a robotic endoskeleton like a Terminator and could also make super heated holographic claws and stuff.

In early 2019 I got REALLY into Legend of Zelda and Ganondorf and was like "7oby v.3 is going to be a hyena/boar hybrid now." He still had the Terminator skeleton and laser hands but now he had tusks too. I think this was around the time I gave him lightning/fire magic and decided to combine him with my art mascot, the Somnivagrant, too. Somni's a genderless, amorphous, eyeless, dream demon. It kind of looks like a white dog/wolf and has a sun orb between its ears. The Somnivagrant hitches a ride on my fursona (like a ghost) for fun.

2021 7oby v.3 (the last redesign I've done) is pretty much the same as 2019 but I cleaned up his general anatomy a little and brought back 7oby v.1's Excalon as a giant laser gunsword. Of course.

I think v.3 has gone through more changes than the other two because I've also changed an incredible amount between 2015 to now, but I think, too, that on some level I just don't entirely vibe with v.3. Like v.1 was absolutely me, v.2 was honestly just a stepping stone, and v.3's just kinda... I dunno. I think it might be time for v.4.

#asks #v.3's been my fursona longer than the other two combined but I drew v.1 more by FAR #I redo my reference sheet every couple years and it's funny tracking my interests over time with them lol #I can post them all if anyone wants to see them

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triplexdoublex · 2 years

Text

Dream 10/4/2022

TW// intense anal play/fisting , spitting, religious nonsense, being chased with knives , knife injury

I had a dream last night that me and Hotel Diablo era Kells were dating and we went on an exotic vacation to a fairly unknown place in another country that wasn’t full of tourists so we could get away and just let him be a normal person where he most likely wouldn’t be recognized. We had Casie with us too and we walking through his little village of shops and they were actually playing one of his unreleased songs and I’m like “baby, they’re playing your song!” And I gave him a big hug and told him how proud of him I was. And then we saw this little cottage but it was actually the beauty store Ulta and I wanted to find some lip stuff so we all went in. They had a little arcade in the basement for kids to play in so they wouldn’t get bored while their parents shopped so Casie went down there to play while we looked around. I couldn’t find what I was looking for but we kept walking around and realized the place was much bigger inside than it looked from the outside and there was actually an Olive Garden restaurant inside it. He had go to the bathroom so we found one and he wanted me to go in the stall with him So I did and I don’t remember details but there was deff some piss kink stuff that happened. Next thing I know we’re fucking in the bathroom stall and he’s nipping along my jawline as he fucks me and I can literally feel the scruff of his face rubbing against mine as he does. And he was getting all sweaty and I was licking the sweat off his neck. Next thing I know he bends me over and starts playing with my ass like super intense Pornstar type stuff like 2 fingers from each hand stretching me out and spitting in my hole, and ends up fisting me. Some guy comes in he main bathroom area and we can sense him standing in front of our stall and get the feeling we’re being watched but don’t stop and rather enjoy it. After we’re done we went to this little courtyard behind the store and this old guy is like “I saw you in the bathrooms… sodomy is against the Bible you know?” And we’re like “then why were you watching?” Well the guy gets super pissed and decides we need to die for our sins and pulls out a giant knife and starts chasing us and gets all his kids to start chasing us with knives too. And we’re like “shit we gotta get Casie and get out of here” Well Casie’s not in the arcade and we’re freaking out but then we find her at a little playground they had too. The three of us end up finding knives and like battling this family inside of Ulta but for some reason my dumbass was holding my knife by the blade and trying to stab them with the handle and was cutting my hand all up. 🤦🏻‍♀️

#dream #machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk #colson baker smut #machine gun kelly smut #mgk smut

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

Text

HEART'S DESIRE - CHAPTER 5

*Warning: Adult Content*

When Montreal Hunter was a kid, he liked to watch cartoons in the afternoon.

One time a commercial about saving animals came on.

It had just about the saddest music, Monty thinks he had ever heard.

Between that and the little puppy faces and kitten tears, it broke the tiny child’s heart, right there and then.

Monty stole his mother’s credit card out of her purse and called the number on the screen and tried to give a thousand dollars to save them all, which was the most money he could think of as a five year old child.

Luckily for him, the lady on the other end of the call, knew what a crying child sounded like and asked to talk to his Mom or Dad.

Mr and Mrs Hunter were not made at their five year old.

But they did become concerned when Monty wouldn’t let the subject go.

He kept on asking them, over and over, if they thought all those, puppies and kittens, rabbits and other creatures would be okay.

And that was the consequence of just one commercial.

Monty’s Dad said he would grow out of it, that it was just a sensitive stage and he’d harden up when he grew older but that didn’t happen.

Even now Monty can’t look at the news or drive by a sad billboard or read a novel without feeling something of the same way he had that afternoon, between cartoons.

Kit Montaine made him feel that way as he take a small bowl of steaming broth and a little plate of crackers with a mild meekness that makes his heart twist.

The young man kept his head lowered and his thin hands shake a little and the shapes of his bones show beneath his smooth olive-toned skin, clavicles and ribs, shoulder-blades and the ridges of his spine.

He sips the broth and eats the crackers like each bite is something to be relished and his dark eyes hold a haunted look that doesn’t belong in such a young, pretty face.

Monty wonders how old Kit is but he doesn’t ask him, not wanting to disturb him when he is eating.

As he studies the young man, Monty see’s that Kit’s honey-gold curls clinging to the back of his neck are still damp with sweat and there is dirt in the creases of his skin.

He probably would like a shower or a bath and for that matter, some clothes.

Monty busies himself choosing some, a t-shirt that’s a little too small for him and an un-opened pack of underwear from his emergency kit.

‘Wanna wash up?’ Monty asks Kit, coming back to stand by the bed.

Kit nods without looking up, lifts the quilt up and gets to his feet moving with a slow carefulness that tells Monty that he’s a little unsteady, still.

‘Were is it?’ he whispers.

‘Where is what?’

Kit is still naked and Monty adverts his eyes, mindful of the young man’s modesty, even if he isn’t.

‘The kitchen. To wash.’

Kit is still holding the bowl and Monty realizes that the young man has misunderstood.

‘No. I don’t mean wash the dishes.I meant you. Take a shower, get clean. You know, before bed.’

‘Oh.’

The word is nearly soundless and for some reason he looks terrified.

‘Are you afraid of water or something?’ Monty asks him and Kit shakes his head.

‘Okay then, here.’ Monty hands him the t-shirt and underwear. ‘All my other things will be too big for you, so I’ll ask Noah and Julian to bring over some things tomorrow. You are somewhere between their sizes, I think. Come on, the bathroom is through here.’

Monty leads the way into the hall and down to the end, holding the bathroom door open for Kit.

‘Take your time and use what ever you want, soap and towels,’ he says pointing to each. ‘ I have an unopened toothbrush around here somewhere. I’ll go look for it.’

Monty turns and sees Kit still standing in the doorway, the bundle of clothes clutched in his hands and he’s trembling.

‘Hey, Kit. Are you okay?’ Monty asks. ‘I mean, you don’t have to shower, if you don’t want to, you know.’

Monty rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, wondering if he is being too overbearing again.

Kit keeps his eyes to the ground.

‘I would like to wash first, yes.’

‘First?’

Kit looks up at Monty, finally and he sees all kinds of raw emotions on his face, desperation, resignation, fear and he swallows and takes a breath like he is about to step off a cliff.

‘You have been very kind to me,’ Kit whispers. ‘I am sure you will be... kind to me.’

Color spreads over his cheeks, turning his olive skin bronze and finally... ‘finally’ Monty gets it and feels his own face darken with embarrassment.

‘Kit, I don’t want anything from you,’ he says. ‘I just want to help you. You don’t owe me anything, certainly not whatever it is you are thinking right now. I don’t know what kind of life you have had or what you have been through. But here, nobody is going to make you do anything you don’t want to. Ever again. Understand?

Kit looks at Monty like he has told him he can fly to the moon on paper wings but the young man nods anyway.

Monty moves past him and out into the hall, closing the door behind him almost but not quite, shut after him.

‘Like I said, take your time,’ he tells Kit again and then he leaves him alone.

Monty’s brother, Alpha Dane Hunter was right, he realizes as he walks back down the hall, Kit Montaine is dangerous.

Because the only thing he wants to protect anymore, besides his pack is his own heart and Kit is already past his defences.

The sooner Dane accepts Kit’s request for asylum and gets him settle somewhere else, the better.

‘I said no.’

Monty stares at Dane, his brain refusing to understand.

It’s the following morning and Alpha Dane has assembled them all, the whole pack and the Foley’s Shifter Clan at Ambrose’s rambling old mansion.

They sit in a big room with lots of sofas and upholstered chairs, ringed in a kind of messy circle.

Monty and Kit, Julian and Dane, Noah and Ambrose, Chloe and Grace and Ian and Sam.

And Dane has just refused Kit’s asylum request.

‘But you haven’t even heard his story, yet.’

Anger threatens to raise Monty’s voice and he tries to control it.

Shouting won’t help anything.

‘I don’t need to,’ Dane replies and Monty loses his battle of self-control.

‘Dane, You God-damned son of a...’

‘Just listen,’ Alpha Dane says, raising his hand. ‘I said no because Alpha or not, it shouldn’t be up to me alone. I said no because that means it goes to a vote and everyone here should have a vote.’

Monty looks around and understands what his brother means.

Julian, Ian, Chloe, Grace and Noah all have history with the Montaines.

‘Fine,’ Monty concedes, settling back in his chair.

Can’t hate the man for trying to be diplomatic, plus the vote has to be unanimous to turn Kit Montaine anyway.

‘So,’ Dane says, sifting his attention to the young man in question who now where’s some clothes that Noah has lent him, which fit him well enough. ‘Let’s hear it. Why do you seek asylum with my pack?’

Kit sits with his back straight, arms resting on the arms of his chair but keeps his eyes lowered.

He hasn’t spoken or look anyone in the eyes since they arrived.

‘I’m not like them,’ he whispers. ‘I’m not like my family, I mean.’

‘That remains to be seen,’ Dane replies.

Kit is silent for a moment and then he speaks again.

‘What I mean is, I’m not a Wolf like them. Not a full Wolf.’

‘Your mother or father?’ Alpha Dane asks.

‘My mother is Vivienne Montaine who is also mother to Selene and Stephan,’ Kit answers. ‘But our fathers are not the same. My siblings sire is my mother’s mate. Harrald Montaine. My father was... another man.’

‘A man or a...’

This time Ian Foley’s mate, Sam speaks.

Sam Asato is a slight little thing with black hair and eyes as black as Kit Montaine.

He is also part incubus and sits half curled in Ian’s lap like a cute, demonic kitten.

Ian Foley says, that like Ambrose, Sam can see stuff that the rest of them can’t.

Kit Montaine hesitates before he answers Sam’s question.

‘He was a Shifter,’ he says at last, barely audible. ‘A fox.’

‘Thought as much,’ Ambrose comments smugly and Noah Hunter nudges his mate in the ribs.

Kit looks up, casting a desperate glance around the room.

‘You know how it is,’ Kit continues. ‘Our Alpha, Uncle Obadiah, decides everything. Even who mates with whom. He chose my mother’s mate, Harrald but she never loved him. Despite the forced mate-bond, she... she fell in love with someone else,’ he adds and shuts his eyes as if ashamed.

‘A roguish young fox, passing through the Montaine territory,’ Ambrose Thorne guesses.

‘Yes,’ Kit nods. ‘When I was born, it was obvious Harrald had not fathered me. Obadiah decided not to punish his sister, my mother... directly, thought but to punish her through me. So I was raised as befitting my father’s blood. Like an animal. As a slave.’

The same looks around at the ‘Hunter Pack’ again.

‘I thought that it was like that in every Pack, that the mis-born were made to serve. Is it not so?’

‘No,’ Dane growls and Monty is glad to see his brother’s amber eyes aglow with indignation. ‘It is certainly not so.’

Kit lowers his eyes again and Monty sees the corner of his mouth trembling.

‘Anyway,’ Kit continues. ‘There is another Pack up North. They call themselves the ‘White Dawn’ and they are lead by this Alpha called Ferrault. Obadiah wants a rock-solid alliance and Selene wants Ferrault as her mate. The negotiations have been... rough though. The last time Ferrault paid a visit, Obadiah surprised him with a gift. He learnt that Ferrault had... certain tastes, I guess. That gift was me,’ Kit explains and swallows, his breathing quickening. ‘That was a few months ago.’

‘Shit,’ Monty says, then covers his mouth with his hand.

‘I escaped, though,’ Kit continues, his voice dropping back down to a whisper. ‘I took Ferrault by surprise... attacked him... and I escaped. But I know Uncle Obadiah will send his best trackers after me. And his best is Selene and...’ Kit pauses and looks up at Alpha Dane again. ‘It is for this that I beg asylum. I may not be a full blood wolf or born of a sanctioned match but I will serve you and your Pack, however you see fit. If Ferrault doesn’t, Obadiah will demand my life for what I did. Please.’

Monty finally takes his hand away from his face and speaks.

‘How old are you, Kit?’ he asks quietly.

‘Twenty-six, I think,’ he says, glancing away and Monty blinks in disbelief.

That’s at least six years older than Monty had guessed but most Wolves age slowly, he supposes.

Most of his parent’s Pack look younger than they are.

Regardless it dashes his hope of gaining Kit extra protections.

He’s an adult, far and square.

‘So, that is it?’ Dane asks. ‘The whole story?’

Kit nods, studying the rug at his feet. Monty is tempted to cuss his brother, Dane out again but he holds back, figuring he will save it for later.

Monty loves his brother... he would die for him... but he sure is a son of a bitch, sometimes.

Then again, you could say all Wolves are.

‘Alright,’ Dane says, scrubbing a hand across his chin. ‘Noah, why don’t you show Kit where the library is. Then we will... convene.’

Noah obeys, leading Kit away with gentle words and a gentle touch and once they’ve gone Alpha Dane looks across at Ambrose Thorne.

‘Well?’

Ambrose sighs, running a hand through his long, auburn curls.

‘I wish I could say otherwise but either that wasn’t the whole truth or it wasn’t the truth at all.’

Ambrose Thorne then casts Monty Hunter a twisted smile.

‘I’m sorry, Monty but I do believe your little foxy lad is a liar.’

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headcanons-multi-fandom · 2 years

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Hello. Do you have any rules? And mind if I request Mandrake (High Guardian Spice) x Reader headcanons?

Hello! Currently, no I don't have any rules for now. I will see case by case. It depends of the context.

I didn't think I will have some requests on High Guardian Spice but I'm happy to have some!

Mandrake x reader headcanons

You meet Mandrake by accident: you saw him using his magic, turning back into himself. You never saw a magic like that and you are so impressed! You approach him to talk. He seems a little... confused. Why would you talk to him? No on had been interested in him before... except... when they want to use him for something! Now that he knows what do you want, he is way more confident and cocky.

The more time you spend with him, the more he will slip more into his real self. Mandrake is confident but a little clumsy young man, happy to please. He doesn’t know a lot about the real world, but he’s always curious to learn anything.

The perfect date: seating together somewhere in the city with a pastry to share. Maybe in a coffee or at the edge of a fountain.

When you go out, you will never be alone. Mandrake will follow you everywhere. Of course, it’s not for protecting you, but to discover why you want to befriend him. Even if kicking some ass who want to rob you is a possibility...

He loves to be pet, especially when you play with his hair. He’s capable of falling asleep just because of that.

He doesn’t know if he wants you to work for the Triumvirate or not. Since you’re pretty good at defend yourself, it could be nice to work together. But it’s a dangerous work and he’s not sure if he wants you to be in danger or not...

He often gifts you fish. Why? Because the only woman around his age is Olive. And Olive loves fish!

If you want to gift him something, choose something useful: blade, terrasphere, potions... Since he travels a lot and doesn’t have a real home, he can’t carry much decorations.

If you’re uncomfortable to gift something useful (maybe you saw him fighting seriously and hurting people), everything which is homemade will be perfect: little trinkets or food. He will cherish them until the end of his life.

One day, you hear knocks at your home’s door. There is a huge thunderstorm for three days in town and it is raining hard. So you hurry yourself to open the door, only to find Mandrake, beaten to pulp and soaked to the bones, leaned against your door frame.

You don’t ask questions. Not even when you see the wound made surely by a blade. Not even when you see the burns all over his body. Not even when you see the glass in his wounds. Not even when you realize that his cape is a part of a firefighter's uniform.

Maybe he’s just a guardian in a mission or something like that... After all, he has a strong magic, he knows how to fight and follow people. But you can’t know for sure, Mandrake is not the type to talk.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t go out of your home as soon as he can like always. He just... stays here. He tries to help you, but his such a disaster that you forbid him to go in the kitchen or in the laundry room ever again.

He looks kinda lost, like a puppy. He doesn’t seem to know how to clean a home or cooking something else than boiled random ingredients. He doesn’t have a hobby either. So he just follows you in your home most of the time, looking at you when you work, trying to figure out a way to help without starting a fire.

At some point, you have to go to the market, leaving Mandrake at home. You don’t have much food anymore and you need supplies for your work. Despite the November’s cold, there is a lot of people in the street. There is even a newspaper seller.

When you see the front page of the newspaper, you freeze. The High Guardian Academy had been attacked a week ago by two mages. One of them is Olive, a cat girl, and the second didn’t get caught and according to olive is named Mandrake.

It’s him. It’s your boyfriend. There is no doubt. Your boyfriend is a villain who tried to kill all the people in the academy and set it on fire. Even the timeline matches.

You run back home, your shopping completely forgotten. You need to confront him right now about... about all of this. He lied to you! Well... not really since he never talks about himself but still!

When you enter your house, everything is upside down. The dishes were smashed on the floor, all the furniture are knocked down and there are traces of battle all over the wall and the floor. Mandrake is nowhere in sight. You search him, but he’s gone.

You finally found his secret hiding place: a little hole in the ceiling of the guest - his - room. You found a sword, some clothes and potions and a tiny picture. It’s you, at one of your date with him. You have no idea how he took this picture. On thing is sure, Mandrake didn't leave on his own: someone forced him too.

Maybe he would come back... Maybe he escaped... But after four days, you give up this hope. Mandrake is in trouble and had been taken by a secret organization. Not by the guardians, not by the royal guard, or else you had seen it in the newspaper. But nothing.

You finally take a decision: you’re going to ask the High Guardian Academy to help you find and rescue him. He might make some prison, but at least you will know that he’s safe and not doing anything worse than he already did.

After another week, you finally have news: during one of their mission, a group of young students found Mandrake in the wood, hiding. He begged for help in exchange for information. He’s currently in a hospital near your home.

You run like you had never run before. In less ten minutes, you are in his hospital room, all red and sweaty. But he’s here, he’s... not fine but safe. He looks like he was trampled by a herd of grogs: pale like a ghost, wounds and bruises all over his body, really skinny like he didn’t eat since he left... He refuses to look at you. He knows that you know, and he’s ashamed.

But you don’t let him ignore you: you cup his cheeks with your hands, turn his face to you and kiss him passionately. First he’s tense, but he gradually relaxes and tries to kiss back as best he can. Maybe, just maybe, Mandrake could redeem himself for you.

#high guardian spice #headcanons #mandrake #x reader #neutral reader

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mikey180 · 2 years

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They realize they forgot your date pt2

Type- angst

Characters- Bam, Aguero, Hatz, Anak, Endorsi, Lero ro, Quant, Hansung Yu, Evankhell

Endorsi

Endorsi pov-

Take him on a date? What did she mean by that? Whatever, she's clearly mad about "something" wonder what got her so worked up? Welp she said that she wrote it down, probably on the calendar. Let's go take a look then. Getting up from where I was resting I head for the kitchen. Right beside the counter I find the calendar hanging in the wall. "Bap ah doop, mhm, oh here it is. Today is "restr with baby"? What does "restr" mean? Going back to the couch I sit and pull out my pocket. "Mkay" I whisper to my self, typing "restr" into the search bar. Let's see definitions, I think that right. Clicking on the link, the first definition to come up is

"Restr" is short hand for "restaurant"

A restaurant huh? And I know she meant me when she wrote baby. Olive garden! Shes been talking about taking me there! How could I forget that?

Lero ro

Lero ro's pov-

I sink, sliding against the golden desk Infront of me till I'm on my knees with my head pressed the the hard surface. God why did I do that? I know we have a date. She was just trying to help, trying to leave on time. I'm always getting on her about leaving on time and yet I'm here. Ironic. We haven't gone in a date in weeks and now that we have one planed I push here out like that for work that I'm not even supposed to be doing? It's Quant's work! Ugh, I'm an idiot. Standing up I turn around and walk out. "Hey, y/n I'm sorry?..." She's not here. Well of course she wouldn't be here after that. I can't believe myself.

Quant

He doesn't notice on his own. You leave him a note on the table explaining that you weren't planning on a girl's night out and that since he didn't remember you just decided to take Dissy on a date instead.

Quant's pov-

After reading the note y/n left me I can't believe I forgot our date. Is she mad? I stand up and run to Dissy's room. I'm going to find her.

So honestly not that much of a thought process just- oh fuck I gotta fix this.

Hansung yu

Hansung yu's pov-

The meeting was so boring, I'm really looking forward to getting home. I'll make coffee and sit down with y/n. Oh and maybe we can have a late dinner...dinner. That stirred something, I felt a sense of, what? Guilt? I couldn't place my finger on it, until I got home that is. When I returned I was hit with the smell of steak. That's what it was! I was going to take her out tonight at the steak house that just opened. Walking into the kitchen I see her searing the meat. Setting down my papers on the opposite counter I turn around again. Walking right up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest me head on the shoulder blade, silently cursing myself for not being tall enough to put my chin on her shoulder.

"Do you want to take my hair down now?"

Evankhell

Evankhell's pov-

I can't believe that stupid regular. Asking me to fight?! He obviously had a death wish and I'll have to pay for all the repairs. That regular challenging me? The infernal Evankhell? He doesn't even deserve to be on the same battle field, no he doesn't deserve to be on the same floor as me! "Can you believe him y/n?" I ask looking back as I unlock the door. She's not there. She's not there! I start to panic, running back, I start retracing all my steps. Screaming here name as if it was a prayer. After a half an hour I go back to our home. Maybe she went back? No. No she's not there. No no no, where is she? If only that regular hadn't came. If only he didn't interrupt our lunch! Our lunch? Our lunch! She could be there! Oh please be there y/n!

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hlmowrer · 1 year

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Week 12: "I prayed for muscles and God sent me an exercise bike"

Lots happened this week. I shall present to you all an itemized list.

We begin right after I sent my letter last week...I've been having a really hard time finding something that's actually fun to do on my prep days, but that Monday we realized there was a pool table in our apartment's clubhouse so we invited the Midland 1 elders over. We got completely demolished, but it was still fun. We went over to Olive Garden afterwards to cap it all off. It was rad.

Tuesday was also interesting...I embarked on an exchange with Elder Monson, from Midland 1. I don't know if we were the most productive missionaries there ever were, but Elder Monson is a very wise and articulate individual and he shared a lot of really interesting wisdom with me. I really enjoyed talking to him throughout the day, and I suspect he may be called to be our new district leader next transfer.

Wednesday...is the day when all the fecal matter hit the rotating blade (so to speak ;)

I had quite a lot of anxiety and frustration and other fun mental health things building in the background through most of last week, and Wednesday had a few really stupid things going on that just kinda made it boil over. It was yet another very intense test from the Lord, and I hope I can avoid encountering another one anytime soon...I don't feel like I handled it real well. I'm going to avoid sharing what went wrong for the sake of others' privacy but the ultimate point is that this chapter of my life is clearly meant to teach me things, and growth is painful. It caused me to think about how I can be more Christlike in my background thoughts so that perhaps negativity like that won't build.

Thursday was mostly just dealing with the fallout from Wednesday, though I did request and receive a priesthood blessing from my district leader, Elder Wells. I'm very grateful to be serving in an area with several nearby missionaries, and since being on the mission I've come to have a much greater appreciation and testimony for the power of priesthood blessings. I've shared previous experiences in previous emails, but the effect of this one really gave me the strength I needed to be able to invite the spirit back in and power out of the hole.

Thursday night we got some interesting visitors...two unfamiliar elders barged into our apartment, and were greeted very joyously by Elder Wilchek. Apparently E. Wilchek forgot to tell me that his former companions would be staying over on their way to our zone conference the next day. I've heard many stories about his former companions (one of them is so infamous in the mission for his antics that he's got a fan club on Facebook) and it was cool to meet them before they finish their missions and go home at the end of the month.

Friday we travelled to Mt. Pleasant, Michigan for a combined zone conference! Apparently sometimes the mission leaders will combine zones for the conference, so it was literally half the mission all in one building. Combined conferences are fun because you get to see people who serve elsewhere in the mission, like my good MTC friend Sister Abegglen! It was really nice to see a familiar face, I like my Michigan district but nothing's ever going to dislodge my MTC district from their special place in my heart. Several mission leaders addressed us at the conference, and this produced some funny quotes. One of them, President Gentile, made it into the title of this email! It was hilarious when he said that but it felt extra applicable to the week I've had. God is always up for helping us help ourselves...but usually won't just wave a wand and grant us exactly what we want. President Heap got a little off track in his address talking about the story of Ammon defending King Lamoni's sheep (a famous story from the Book of Mormon) and made it to the phrase "What a DAY I mean the guy's carrying a literal BAG OF ARMS back home(...)" before he saw the look on Sister Heap's face and commented that he didn't know why she said yes either. I also finally received authorization to drive Church owned vehicles at the conference, which is fabulous. I love driving, and I haven't been able to for many months now. It was a nice cherry to top the conference.

Saturday and Sunday were a much needed bit of calm after the storm. Easter weekend is always a good time, and I was finally able to bring some peace back into my brain. Even right as I was getting homesick after being sent a picture of my family enjoying Easter dinner back home, some of the members called us and invited us over to a huge family gathering they were having, which was super fun and scratched that itch for me. I was dually grateful to Jesus, both for allowing me to have the day and also y'know, for atoning for our sins and all that. Easter is a holiday I've always kinda overlooked, but it really is a celebration of the single most important event to have ever happened in all of human history.

Alright, now that I've subdued you with my wall of text, here's some well earned pictures. Love you all. :)

-Elder Beren Mowrer

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samspenandsword · 1 year

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1. Idk how I missed your follow celebration but i hope not too late!! It’s the 29th where I am! First of all congratulations on the follow count! Second can I please request a ship request and a bestie request? I’m bisexual so either gender is fine! Here we go:

2. I go by she/her and am 20 so I don’t mind some nsfw!

3. Appearance:

As for looks, I’m 5’1, average build, tanned olive type skin, dark brown eyes, full lips, dark brown shoulder length wavy/kinda curly hair with curtain bangs. I also wear glasses with a slight cat eye to them.

4. Personality:

For personality I’m creative, introverted, and individualistic. Though I’m introverted, around my friends I can be quite talkative, humorous and outgoing. However I definitely treasure my alone time the most.

5. Hobbies/Interests:

As for hobbies escaping to new worlds while reading books/comics, watching movies, and playing rpg video games. My favorite genres are fantasy and sci-fi, though I do love a good classic from time to time. Apart from that, I love working out.

My interests on the other hand are art focused. I’m currently in art school working with both digital and traditional mediums. I love my practice and everything from interaction design and digital illustration to graphite drawings and inking.

6. Likes/dislikes:

Likes: coffee, chai tea, dark chocolate, rock/blues/jazz/ music, cafe art shows, arcades, comic book stores, purple, thai/Indian/Chinese food, roller blading to classic rock with the wind in my hair, quality alone time

Dislikes: people i am unfamiliar with and have to make small talk with, the biting cold, rain, non fiction, staying too close to reality and not being allowed to daydream/imagine/roam freely in my thoughts, physical touch, overly crowded areas

Random stuff

My favorite planet is Dathomir. Don’t ask why but I love the aesthetic and the witchy spookiness. Also maul and ventress yes pls. Idk if I’d want to live there but the vibes are immaculate.

If I had to live on a planet tho it’d prolly be Naboo, Alderaan or coruscant (pre empire ofc)

Thank you and congrats once again!

Hey there!! You're absolutely fine, your request was before the deadline (I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out I'm such a flake oml lol). Thank you so much for participating, and I hope the week has been treating you well so far!

Sam's Pen and Sword Follower Celebration (Closed)

Danzalladagger's Follower Celebration Request

Ship request 👄

Okay, okay, okay, okay, listen. The sequel trilogy I know is pretty polarizing, especially here on Tumblr (I don't write for them most of the time), but you and Rey would be so CUTE!!! She sees your art and she literally had no idea that something could be so beautiful. You get a bit bashful because it's just a rough sketch and the dimensions are all off and tbh it was really just a warmup but Rey falls in love with it and it warms your heart so much you give it to her. She scrimps and saves money to get it properly matted and framed and she just adores it. Also, pls get this girl some healthy emotional relationships she would just flourish on Naboo. The water!! The greenery!! It's warm enough for you both but it's not a desert! HUGE plus. The war ends and Rey just wants to come home with you, to a peaceful place where she doesn't feel weighed down by her past and her powers and her responsibility. She wants a place where her friends came come and go and enjoy being there. She loves that her friends can become your friends. But the both of you also get overwhelmed with too much social interaction, and quiet nights in together, ones where Rey sits and tinkers with some mechanical bits and bobs. Ones where you've ordered takeout and you're sitting working on a new piece of art or reading Space-Dracula with Space-Ella Fitzgerald playing quietly in the background. Peaceful nights. A peaceful life. It's everything Rey didn't realize she wanted until you came along.

"It wasn't that bad." You were a bit pale in the face. For all your interests and talents, a pilot you were not. Your beautiful, powerful, pure partner, however, was a pilot of extreme skill. But every time she flew it was like she was in battle, and the ride had gotten a bit rocky there. You'd think you'd be used to it by now. "Rey, my love, you fly like Poe was on your ass." "Poe could only hope to keep up with me." You giggled a little. Poe was also a fantastic pilot, and he and Rey had had a few "friendly" competitions to see which one was better. And every single time, they asked you and Finn to judge. And every single time, you and Finn stayed the fuck out of it and were happy to let your partners be competitive little flyboys. You and Finn were quite happy to gallivant off towards a coffee shop with pastries and laugh at their antics. "Good thing he's not here to hear that," you said. "He'd be squaring up right now." "Again, he could only hope to keep up with me." You laughed again, with a fond little roll of your eyes, and reached up to kiss her cheek. "Come on, Reybird, home's awaiting." Rey smiled, that beautiful, radiant smile of hers. The one that made your cheeks warm and stomach flutter. The one that had stolen your heart. The one that you did not want to go a single day without seeing. And it felt like you were already home.

Bestie request 😎

I came this 🤏 close to putting Sabine Wren down as your ship request, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought you two would be better suited as besties. (Also I hope you're okay with me putting down a Rebels character 😊). You two would bond so easily over art. Sabine is also well-known for her individuality, creativity, independence, and introversion. Sure, she loves being with her friends and family, but sometimes Sabine just needs some goddamn alone time. And you just have to do, "same lol." I think Sabine and you would also love meeting up at your favorite (space) Thai joints cause you two can handle spice and no one else on the Ghost Crew can lol. You and Sabine would also love working out together, giving each other shit for being out of shape lol, griping and being dramatic about how tired you are.

You could hear the gentle hiss of Sabine's paint gun somewhere around the corner from you. You wondered if she was leaving behind her trademark starbird or if she was leaving something a little more detailed. The longer the paint gun went, you knew she was painting something a bit bigger than her signature symbol. Your own piece was coming along nicely. A smirk curled at your lips as the details and colors came together, a mural of pure beauty materializing and giving the drab slate durasteel wall a bit more character. Your didn't use a paint gun yourself, only for linework. You preferred a classic brush to blend and apply the colors of your work. Even if it took a bit longer. You weren't worried. You and Sabine had yet to be caught. A few more flicks of your brush brought the piece together. And with a quick arc of some black paint with your gun, the piece was done. "Nice." Sabine had finished her own work and was now sniggering at your mural. You smirked over your shoulder at her. Your mural was a wonderful rendition of one Grand Admiral Thrawn being strangled by that chimaera he seemed so fond of. You were quite proud of it. "Thanks." You slapped up a stencil and sprayed with your gun, leaving your own symbol to sign your work. "What's yours?" Sabine's was as comical and poignant as your own. It featured a figure cloaked in black, a figure you recognized as The Emperor, with a lightsaber through his ass. You sighed a little dramatically. Oh, if only. "Come on, I've still got some ideas to get out that will get me grounded if Kanan or Hera sees." Sabine flourished her paint gun. You barked a laugh. "Then I want to see it!" Sabine grinned, and as the two of you darted through the city to find your next displays, you left behind nothing but fresh paint and the knowledge that rebels had been there. Rebels were everywhere.

#samspenandsword follower celebration #samspenandsword 300 follower celebration #follower celebration #300 follower celebration #300 followers #star wars ship request #ship request #ship requests #sabine wren #rey #i don't want to call her rey skywalker #danzalladagger #honorable mentions for the ship request are obi-wan kenobi and bodhi rook

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