#I’m so glad this project is finally done I’m never going to draw a blade of grass ever again

[enduracarrotchips]

the journey

#HA #I’m so glad this project is finally done I’m never going to draw a blade of grass ever again #the gerudo canyon one is inspired by antelope canyon #+the one with trees is supposed to be Lanayru bay!! #this is what I was using the rock references for way back they were very helpful #zelda #breath of the wild #loz #legend of zelda #botw #zelink #wait no it’s not #whatever now it is

[unloved-cadillac]

Ohhhh, what about Headcanons of mikoto and yashiro With a Fem!S/O who is an expert in weapons, like....She uses her weapons to defend herself and stay alive, and at the moment of using them she doesn't even flinch, but then she falls to the ground agitated and scared, entering a stress attack that ends in tears. thanks for seeing this

HCs on Mikoto and Yashiro with a S/O who stresses herself when she uses her powers too much.

❤️Mikoto: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖉 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖌🥀

Y/n was his ideal woman. Strong, independent and caring.

But it wasn’t until a fight with sceptor four did he see her break.

Munakata decided to go for her first. Mikoto’s weakness. Drawing his sword, he starts attacking Y/n. But she had her own toys.

Pulling out two swords, with a ragged edges, she fights him.

Dodging here and there, Mikoto could tell she had this fight.

But Munakata broke her left sword and unarmed her right. Not delaying by a second, Y/n pulls out a gun and shoots at him.

Munakata cuts the bullets until she ran out. And again, pulling out butterfly knives she throws it at him finally catching him on his shoulder.

Sceptor Four and HOMRA members stopped fighting each other and watched the red queen against the blue king.

Watching him fall, HOMRA cheers for Y/n making Mikoto smile as he lights a cigarette. But the cheers stop when she collapses too.

Mikoto throws his cigarette away and runs to her.

“Shit. Y/n. Y/n, hey”, he taps her cheek.

She’s shivering. Almost sizure like.

“I-I can’t. Mi-Mikoto. S-stop it. It hurts.” She curls herself into a ball and yells loudly. So loud you could here it everywhere.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”, she yells and holds her body to stop shivering. Mikoto is shit scared. HOMRA has never seen their king this panicked before.

“Izumo, get the car.”

Carefully holding her, shushing her and drying her tears, Mikoto takes her back home. She was passed out by the time she was at the bar.

Two days later, Y/n wakes up in a warm bed with a cloth on her forehead.

She quickly wakes up and runs to the bathroom, throwing up in the toilet. Ah shit.

Hearing noise from their bedroom, Mikoto enters and hears Y/n in the bathroom.

He sits on their bed, patiently waiting for her.

Coming out the bathroom, she sees him. Instantly she starts crying and apologizing.

“Koto, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to..-“, but she’s silenced when she feels arms wrap around her.

“Idiot, what are you apologizing for? Come back to bed and tell me what the hell happened.”

Explaining her power to make weapons and the outcome of it. How making weapons takes time and her energy. But the bigger the weapons, the more energy she uses. Mikoto sighs.

“Y/n, you didn’t need to do that. I understand you want to fight, but risking your health isn’t worth anything. You gave me a heart attack.”, he says while cupping her face.

“I’m sorry, Koto.”, she nuzzles into his hands. “Promise you won’t do something so reckless anymore. If there’s a fight, you use your fire. If you can’t, you stand down.” She widens her eyes and protests.

“As your king, I’m ordering you to listen and promise me.”

Now how can she disobey that?

“I promise, Koto.”

He pulls her into a hug then collapses onto the bed with her on his chest.

“Rest now, before the others come and bombard you with questions.”

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

🤍Yashiro: 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐🕊

Sparring with Kuroh always made great entertainment for Yashiro and Neko.

Training and having fun while your king watches you.

You and Kuroh were almost done when an intruder enters the building.

“Say, Kuroh. What do think about fighting me? Little brother is such a sore when he loses. I’d love to see that face again.”, Yukari says happily.

“Yukari. Give it up already. Kuroh isn’t going to fight you.”, Y/n says as she produces a long katana matching his. “Because I will.” Y/n jumps to him and clashes with his sword.

“Ahh. The Silver King’s squeeze. How thoughtful. Are you as sore of a loser as Kuroh?”, Yukari pushes her away and flings her sword away from her and laughs.

“Pathetic.”, he says. “I’m not done yet!” Y/n exclaims and pulls out a shotgun. Firing at Yukari, he jumps around the building, avoiding bullets.

But she runs out of bulllets, so she quickly pulls out two pistols and fires. Catching Yukari, Kuroh pins him down and takes his blade, aiming at his throat.

“Get outta here before she kills you.”, he says and pushes Yukari away. “Tch. What a nuisance.” He says and teleports away with his dignity.

Yashiro laughs and looks at Y/n. “Honey?” He calls out to her. She stares and collapses on the floor.

Clutching her head she cries out and yells. Shiro, Neko and Kuroh act fast to her side. Shiro grabs her.

“Y/n! Y/n! What’s happening!? Talk to me.”, he tries speaking to her. “Sh-Shiro! It hurts! I can’t. I can’t!” She chokes out and squeezes her head. “It’s too much!”

Yashiro looks at Neko and she was already ready to take her back to their home.

Y/n screams were playing in his head. Shiro vowed to never let her experience what she just did, ever again. He never wanted to hear her scream like that, ever.

Sitting on the side of their bed, he waits for her to wake. Thinking about how this could’ve happened, he hears her groans.

“Y/n. Darling.”, he says as he sits next her.

“Shiro. I’m so sorry.”, she says softly.

“No. Don’t ever apologize. I’m so glad that you’re okay. Tell me what happened.”

So she does. She tells him that she can produce weapons from her own body but it costs her energy and how she hardly used it because of her stress levels and the pain she endured after.

“Baka. Then why would you almost risk your life for such a petty fight? You scared me, Y/n. I thought I was going to lose you.”, he whispers.

“I’m sorry, darling. I promise I won’t do that again.” She smiles and cups his face. He turns and kisses her palm when they are interrupted by two guests.

“Y/n!!! Oh I’m so happy you’re okay! We were worried sick. My Shiro stayed up all night for you.”, she comes and snuggles next her. “Good to see you’re awake, Y/n. How are you feeling?”, Kuroh asks also sitting on the bed.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I worried you guys.”

“Now, time for food!”, Neko shouts, causing Kuroh to shush her. Yashiro looks at you and kisses your head. Don’t ever scare me like that again.

———————————————————————

“Wow a first request for K-Project! I really enjoyed writing this. Thanks for the request, anon!”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

#k project #k project x reader #Mikoto Suoh x reader #mikoto x reader #mikoto suoh #suoh mikoto #yashiro isana #Yashiro isana x reader #yashiro x reader #the red king #the silver king #k project headcanons

[max-is-tired]

They can tell you that it’s righteous

Fandom: Dream SMP

Prompt: Kidnapping ( @badthingshappenbingo )

A/N: Aaand I’m back on my writing bullshit, let’s go. I started plotting this fic back in January, so it only follows canon up until Doomsday/Techno and Phil finding the portal room, but at least it’s finally done!

Obligatory tags of people who asked: @deadonmercury @littlecatninja​

Warnings: hostage situation, blood, violence, mention of skin melting off, antagonist Quackity, drowning, temporary character death (gotta love respawning), near death experience, beheading.

Read on AO3!!

It had started like such a good day for Ranboo. The sun was shining bright in the sky, the SMP seemed to be at relative peace for once, and there were plenty of grass blocks lying around and waiting to be picked up. So yeah, great day!

Ranboo knew this peace probably wouldn't last long, not with these lands' track record of starting conflicts and trying to kill people on a weekly basis. But when the afternoon rolled around and random explosions had yet to start filling the sky with smoke, the hybrid felt pretty confident that, at least for that day, things were looking up.

The problem was that, by thinking on those lines, Ranboo ended up forgetting the most important rule of the server, the one rule he'd promised himself he would not break, no matter what.

Never, ever lower your guard, especially in times of peace.

He didn't even notice the person sneaking up on him until the very last second. One moment, he was crouching down, happily patting the grass block he'd just placed on the ground and the next, there was a shadow looming over him, the familiar shape of small, feathered wings being the only thing he managed to discern before a sudden, excruciating pain in the back of his head made his vision go white.

Ranboo groaned, stumbling on the ground while his vision wobbled and filled with dark spots. Dark, dirty sneakers stopped just in front of his head, but try as he might, the hybrid couldn't bring himself to move his head enough to look up, the mere thought of it making him wince.

"Sorry Ranboo, nothing personal," a familiar voice muttered, drawing a confused whine out of the kid. After that, everything went black.

+++

Technoblade had been feeling on edge all day -which, by itself, wasn't such a strange occurrence. Being on edge was a given for him, what with the voices in his head constantly chanting for blood and half of the server seemingly having a personal vendetta against him.

Listen, okay, he did blow up their precious country -but only after they decided that a corrupt government was the way to go and, you know, tracked him down while he was in retirement to try and execute him. He felt like the retaliation was kind of deserved.

Still, Techno didn't give much weight to the feeling. He'd learned to never let his guard down after the butcher army, and if someone decided to be stupid enough to attack him in his own home, they'd have to deal with him, Philza, and the small army of hounds living in the pen outside, plus the polar bears. The entirety of the SMP could attack them and he'd be able to at least hold them off enough to get away.

So, Techno spent most of the day chilling, for once, sitting on his couch with a book and Steve curled up nearby while Phil worked on some blueprints for a project of his.

"You keep that up, you're going to end up building a whole city down in that abandoned fortress," he commented, huffing in amusement as the older looked up from the table to glare at him.

"Oh, you shut up," Phil retorted, pointing at him with the quill in his hand. "Do you want the syndicate room to look decent or not? Because if you prefer I can just wing it-" chat cackled at the unintentional pun, much to Techno's dismay- "and have it turn out whatever."

Techno squinted at his friend. "You wouldn't."

"You sure about that, mate?" Phil grinned back, the picture of innocence. Which, when it came to him, meant he absolutely would, the fucker.

"Alright, alright," Techno huffed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "leave the old man to his planning, got it."

Phil snorted, pushing his chair back as he stood up. "Now you listen here, you little shit-"

The sound of tapping on glass distracted them from the discussion, attracting their attention to the kitchen window. There, perched on the windowsill, stood one of Phil's crows, holding something in its beak.

After exchanging a curious glance with Techno, the older went to retrieve the bird, opening the window enough to let it hop in. Giving the crow a few pats on the head, he reached for the object, raising an eyebrow when he realized it was, in fact, a folded piece of paper. 

Intrigued, Techno watched as Phil opened the message, his eyes quickly scanning the paper before widening slightly in alarm. Well, that wasn't good.

"Mate, I think you might want to take a look at this," Phil called, urgency obvious in his voice and that really, really wasn't good.

Techno sighed, slipping the bookmark back in his book before standing up. Guess he could say goodbye to his plans for a chill afternoon.

Hello, Technoblade,

heard you guys took in a little stray -should have known, traitors tend to stick together, don't they? Well, jokes on you, I've got him now. Get to the coordinates listed at the bottom of this note, alone and unarmed, before sundown, or Ranboo gets it. An eye for an eye, that's how the saying goes, right?

See you soon,

Q

+++

Techno had been already halfway out of the house the second he finished reading the note, Phil hot on his heels.

"I'm not letting you go alone," the older stated, already reaching for his coat.

"Well, you'll have to," Techno countered.

"You can't go in without backup, especially unarmed and not knowing what to expect!"

"Oh trust me, I'll be anything but unarmed," Techno huffed, letting the axe Ranboo had gifted him slide in his inventory. "I can use the element of surprise, I'll be fine. But the second Quackity sees you, Ranboo is going to be in hot shit, and we don't even know where he's keeping him."

Phil glared, his lips pursed in a displeased frown before sighing in defeat. "That doesn't mean I have to like it."

Techno sent him an apologetic glance, quickly fastening his coat on before stepping down the porch.

"I'll keep my communicator on the whole time," he promised, walking towards the stasis chamber and reaching for one of his ender pearls, "I'll get there, grab Ranboo, kill Quackity if I can and the second I text you you're gonna teleport us back."

"Sounds like a plan," Philza sighed. "Be careful, okay mate?"

"When am I ever not?" Techno smirked. "we'll be back before you know it, old man."

"Fuck off and go save our neighbor, you ass!"

Techno cackled, shaking his head as he set off towards the Nether portal.

Save Ranboo!

Protectiveblade

Blood for the blood god

Techno shook his head, pushing the voices back as he forced himself to keep a clear head. He was pissed, sure, but he knew men like Quackity -he'd met a lot of them in his life, and all of them had fallen under his sword. He would be no different.

The Nether travel didn't take that long, and after that, all he had to do was follow his compass towards the coordinates he'd been given. Techno found himself feeling glad the place wasn't all too far away, seeing how the sun had just started dipping below the horizon when he finally stepped out of the forest.

"Man, look who is here, our guest of honor!" Quackity exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he turned to look at him. "Technoblade, how nice of you to join us, I was starting to think you wouldn't come, after all."

Distantly, Techno could hear the ocean waves crashing against the rocks under them, the occasional droplets of water reaching the top of the cliff they were currently on. Quackity was standing just near the edge, gusts of wind ruffling the feathers of his duck wings and trying to slip the beanie off his head -all it would take was a misstep, a small push, and he would plummet towards the unforgiving water below.

But what actually got the piglin's attention was the small structure he could see just behind the man, a small, locked cage rigged with redstone dangling well over the edge and above the crashing waves. And just inside of it, slumped against the metal bars, laid an unconscious Ranboo, left with no armor on but his clothes.

"What did you do to him," he demanded, not even bothering to tear his gaze away from the cage that reminded him too much of the day the butcher army had come for him.

"Ah, watch your tone, Blade," Quackity tutted, a smirk evident in his voice, "all I need is pull this lever, and the kid falls down into the ocean. I heard he doesn't do well in water without his armor… we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Techno snapped his head towards Quackity, baring his tusks in a silent threat.

"I'm here, I followed your stupid directions," he growled, barely able to keep himself from cutting Quackity's head clean off like the voices wanted him to, "now let Ranboo go."

The duck hybrid tilted his head to the side, feigning confusion. "And why would I do that, Technoblade? He's a traitor, he needs to be punished as one."

"A traitor to what?!" Techno asked, bewildered. "L'Manburg is gone, Quackity!"

"And whose fault is that?!" Quackity shouted. "Uh? Remind me, oh great Technoblade, who here razed an entire country to the ground not once, but fucking twice? Please, enlighten me!"

"Government corrupts," Techno answered, his voice low and dangerous, "L'Manburg was rotten to its core, look at what it did to you, to Tubbo, to Tommy! It needed to go."

Quackity laughed, throwing his head back as the wind kept howling around them.

"Oh, yeah?" he grinned, throwing his arms open. "Well, that's my old home you're talking about. And if it was rotten, well, then so am I."

Before Techno could even react, Quackity reached to his side, wrapping his hand around the lever connected to the redstone of the cage. And then, still grinning from ear to ear, he pulled.

"Ranboo!" Techno shouted, watching helplessly as the kid plummeted down towards the ocean water. Quackity's laughter mixed with the howling wind, crazed and high-pitched and making Techno's blood boil.

Ruby red eyes settled on the laughing man, filling with bloodlust as the familiar weight of an axe appeared in his hand.

The voices were growing louder by the second, feeding on his fury and chanting for blood. And this time, Technoblade didn't bother holding them back.

+++

Ranboo woke up to muffled voices, yelling from somewhere in front of him. He didn't know what was happening, or where he was -the voices were somewhat familiar, yes, but he couldn't place them for the life of him and as it was, he could barely even catch a word every four, with how loud the wind was.

Normally, something like this wouldn't have failed to send him spiraling into a panic -he hated not knowing, not being aware of his own surroundings or how he got there in the first place. But his brain felt fuzzy, off-kilter, the only thing he could focus on being the dull throbbing coming from the back of his head. Ender, it hurt.

Fighting down a small whine, Ranboo pried his eyes open, pushing against the sluggishness to try and at least make some sense out of the situation he'd found himself in. His vision was fuzzy, but he could somewhat make out two figures standing somewhere in front of him.

One was standing with his back on him, decked in the familiar iridescent purple of an enchanted netherite armor. The other was a little farther away, enough so that to Ranboo, they looked like nothing more than a blurred blob of amassed colors. Pink was very prominent, followed by something red flowing on their back -they felt familiar, safe, causing Ranboo to relax almost on instinct.

"Technoblade...?" he slurred, confused. What was Techno doing there? They weren't in the Antarctic, there was no snow around them.

Before he could properly think of a reason, however, Ranboo felt the floor suddenly disappear from under him, fear shooting up his spine as he started plummeting down into the abyss. He didn't even have the time to make a sound before something dark and cold enveloped him, shocking him awake as he got twirled and smacked around.

A few seconds of shocked bliss passed, and then everything started burning.

It felt like he'd fallen in a pit of fire, the flames licking at every ounce of his skin as if trying to melt it directly off his body. Ranboo opened his mouth, trying to scream as the pain overwhelmed him in the worst way possible, only for something to fill his mouth and throat, choking him and only strengthening his growing panic.

He was going to die. He was going to die, alone in this darkness, he needed to get out, out, out-

Ranboo crashed on the hard, unforgiving ground, coughing harshly as water rushed out of his airways. Cold, frigid air hit his skin, soothing the burns and making the pain a little more bearable. He could breathe. He could breathe.

Ranboo slumped to the floor, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to get his racing heartbeat under control. He had to fight even just to keep his eyes open, exhaustion weighing him down until he could barely move his head, let alone think about standing up.

A white, furry snout filled his vision, curiously sniffing at his face. Ranboo blinked, a startled sound escaping his lips. The dog blinked back, tilting its head to the side.

"What…?" he whispered, wincing at how hoarse his voice came out. Ender, his throat hurt.

Another snout appeared above his head. And then another, and another, the sound of barking finally reaching his ears. Where- where was he, exactly?

Before he could try and come up with an answer, Ranboo heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a sharp gasp and hurried footsteps.

"Ranboo?"

The hybrid squinted in confusion, immediately recognizing the voice.

"Phil?"

+++

No matter what tricks he might have had up his sleeve, Quackity couldn't stand a chance against an angry, vengeful Technoblade. It took him barely minutes to sink his axe through the other's neck, slicing his head clean off and sending it rolling on the ground under their feet. Techno barely watched as the lifeless body slumped down, ignoring his communicator vibrating with the death message as he raced to the cliff. He knew, he knew there was no way Ranboo had survived a fall like that, but he had to check, had to make sure. 

Crashing waves and wet, glistening rocks were the only things staring back, destroying whatever hope he might have had. Someone more impulsive would have jumped off, in a desperate hope to find the kid still struggling against the current, but Techno knew better.

The ocean was unforgiving, and for someone like Ranboo, even more so.

He sighed, stepping back from the edge and turning around. Quackity's body wasn't there anymore, having disappeared as the respawn mechanics worked their magic -if the man was smart, he wouldn't dare bother Techno again, not unless he wanted to lose his last life and find out how permadeath felt like.

In theory, Techno knew that Ranboo's death wasn't permanent. The kid still had all of his lives, at least before this, and the SMP would bring him back soon enough. Respawning sucked, though -it left you aching and in pain for days on end as your body stitched itself back together after whatever trauma had taken away one of your lives. It was a painful process, gruesome at times, and one Techno wished Ranboo didn't have to go through.

Especially not when it was his fault.

Ignoring the guilt pooling heavily in his gut, Technoblade reached for his communicator, intending to text Phil to bring him back. As it turned out, however, his friend had beat him to it, blowing up his notifications with hurried messages. Guilt now replaced with worry, Techno tapped the screen, reading through the chat.

[Philza] Techno

[Philza] Techno what the fuck

[Philza] Ranboo is here, he's in the dog pen

[Philza] Jesus christ he's covered in burns what the fuck happened

[Philza] Technoblade you better answer your fucking communicator right now or so help me god I will fly there, find you, and drag your ass home myself

[Philza] I saw the kill message where the fuck are you

Techno blinked, staring at the messages with wide eyes. What?

[Philza] Techno, I know you're reading these, answer me right now

[Technoblade] im omw

+++

When Techno slammed the door of his cabin open, he didn't know what he was expecting. A dead body in the middle of respawning, maybe, with Phil watching over it like a silent guardian angel.

He certainly wasn't expecting to walk in on Phil wrapping gauze around what looked like the entirety of Ranboo's body, the bandages visible for the world to see with the simple shirt and pants the kid was now wearing.

Techno barely spared a glance to the pile of soaked clothes lying on his floor, raking his eyes over the enderman hybrid as he tried to work the surprise out of his system. Fine is the farthest adjective the piglin would use to describe Ranboo right at that moment, seeing how his entire body was covered in gauze and he was holding a pack of ice to the back of his head, but he was alive and breathing and for once in his life, Techno had no fucking clue about how that was possible.

"Fucking hell, kid," he groaned, letting his cloak fall to the floor as he trudged inside the house. "You'll give me a heart attack, one of these days."

Ranboo winced as Technoblade slumped on the couch, still a little dazed from the hit to his head.

"Sorry," he muttered, breaking into a coughing fit immediately after.

"Don't force your throat, mate, you gotta let it rest," Phil scolded gently, sending Techno a small glare. "We're just glad you're okay -or, well, as okay as you can be right now."

Ranboo hesitantly looked up, looking at Philza and then at Techno. The piglin nodded in silent agreement and watched as the kid seemed to slump on himself in relief, the tension leaving his body at once. Was it really that surprising, that they'd grown to care for him enough to be worried about his well-being?

The two men exchanged a worried glance, silent words passing between them. Then, Phil nodded to himself, tying up the last of the gauze around Ranboo's forearm before heading to the kitchen.

"How do you guys feel about some tea?" he asked, pulling down a kettle and three mugs. "I'd say we could all do with something warm right now."

Techno made a noise of affirmation, watching with amusement as Ranboo snorted and nodded in agreement.

Maybe things weren't okay just yet, but this? This was a start.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #ranboo #technoblade #philza #philza minecraft #quackity #blood #temporary character death #near death experience #antagonist quackity #protective technoblade #angst with a happy ending #bad things happen bingo #maxiswriting

[asweetprologue]

a dark and wicked thing

Octoberfest 8: Phobia (whumptober #18)

Geralt doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. 

They’re hunting venomous arachas - nasty business, in Geralt’s opinion. They’re exceptionally dangerous to humans and more of a nuisance to him, their toxins rendered an annoyance by his mutations. A quick Golden Oriole before engaging with a group of them makes it easy going, and he’s already cleaved through a large number of them. But the ones they’d already encountered had been small, underdeveloped, and Geralt knows that there must be a queen nearby laying eggs. He spends the better part of an hour looking for a place where she might be hiding, and thinking about what the hell he wants to do with Jaskier, before he finds the cave entrance. 

The bard is currently trailing after him, chattering away about how he’s going to find something to rhyme with chitin. Geralt turns away from the entrance to the cavern, barely a noticeable hole in the ground, and interrupts him. Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up in an offended look, but he does have the decency to shut up and listen. “We’re going to have to follow it back to its nest,” Geralt says. Jaskier adjusts the bag on his shoulder, lute exchanged for more practical medical supplies and witcher potions. Geralt had said he could come along if he did something helpful, so he’d been manning the supplies. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” he says, cheerful as ever. Geralt rolls his eyes.

“You’re coming along,” he says. “Unless you want to get eaten by a stray arachas.”

Jaskier pales, probably at the idea of a giant spider making him lunch. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily. “Oh. I thought you, ah, took care of those? I thought you wanted me to stay back until it was all wrapped up.”

“What, suddenly you’re not eager to follow me into the maw of certain death?” Geralt asks, shooting Jaskier a raised eyebrow. He stuck his boot down inside the small hole, testing the edge for footholds. Under the dirt the rock wall is solid, offering plenty of rough surfaces to catch himself on. He glances back up at Jaskier, who looks faintly nauseated. Strange; he wasn’t usually so adverse to delving into dangerous situations. Maybe he’s finally developing a sense of self preservation. 

“Perhaps the maw,” Jaskier says nervously, “but the belly is what concerns me.”

Geralt decides not to dignify that vague statement with a response, instead dropping himself down into the hole. It’s wide enough that he doesn’t feel worried about his swords catching on the sides, but close enough that he can lean back and brace himself against the opposite wall if needed. The bottom is only fifteen or so feet down, and Geralt drops the last five into a slightly larger area. Damp, porous stone holds him in a close embrace, and Geralt spares a moment to be grateful that he’s not claustrophobic. He has to lean over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling, but he can hear echoes of dripping water and clattering stone down the way that promises a wider area ahead. A few scattered pieces of rubble bounce harmlessly off of his shoulder, and Geralt moves aside to make room as Jaskier slides the last few feet down into the cave. He’s slung the pack with its delicate potions around his front, and takes a moment to right it as he gets his bearings, eyes wide.

“Well this is cozy,” Jaskier says. His tone is jovial, but something about his scent isn’t right. He’s scared of something, Geralt realizes, confused. He knows Jaskier isn’t claustrophobic - the number of times they’ve had to squeeze themselves into tiny closets to avoid Jaskier’s irate lovers is testament to that. Being in close proximity makes Geralt’s heart rate accelerate for entirely different reasons, but Jaskier has never seemed bothered either way. Often Geralt has wished that Jaskier was more prone to fits of panic. He always seems to put full faith in Geralt, trusting the witcher to protect him. Geralt is pathetically grateful for it even as it fills him with terror. 

Geralt regards Jaskier intently, tracking the way his breath hitches and his eyes skirt around the narrow space. Maybe he’s afraid of the monsters they’re hunting. If he’s smart, that’s all it is. “Come on,” Geralt says. Whatever is bothering Jaskier, he’ll either come out with it or he’ll move past it once they’re out of here and the job is done. The faster they move, the quicker that will be the case. 

Geralt stalks ahead, pulling his silver sword from its sheath as he moves slowly forward into the dark. It’s awkward in the small space, but he’d rather have it in his hand than be unprepared when an arachas drops down on them. He can hear Jaskier’s footsteps after him, unsure and unsteady. Geralt frowns at the floor, trying to focus on looking for tracks instead of Jaskier’s odd behavior. 

They leave the small passage, coming into a larger area scattered about with stalactites that drip with perspiration. The smell of damp stone is a cool backdrop to the cloying stench of acidic decomposition. They’re close. 

Geralt doubles back to where Jaskier is standing at the exit of the tunnel, shoulders tense and fingers clutches the straps of the pack in a white knuckled grip. The sour fear-sweat-anxiety scent around him is more intense than Geralt’s ever experienced before. He reaches out and puts a hand on Jaskier’s arm, just above his elbow, and the bard jumps like a startled animal. 

“Sorry,” Geralt says, and means it. “I need Cat.”

Jaskier nods jerkily. Geralt’s concern grows, but he focuses on retrieving the potion. It’s hard to tell them apart in the dim light, but Geralt knows the smell of them better than he knows his own name. He downs the Cat, the world coming into sharp focus around him in shades of black and white and greenish gray. Jaskier’s face looks even more wan in the odd lighting, his eyes wide and dilated. It puts Geralt on edge. 

“They’re up ahead,” he says, giving Jaskier’s shoulder one last squeeze. “Stay here.” He turns, preparing to head in the direction of the acidic smell, but Jaskier lunges for him, gripping the edge of Geralt’s shirt clumsily. His eyes don’t meet Geralt’s searching gaze. “What?” Geralt asks, impatient. 

Jaskier’s breath puffs out between them, shaky. “I can’t see,” he says, and Geralt would have expected it to sound petulant but instead Jaskier’s voice is thin and reedy. Geralt stops, letting Jaskier take his wrist in a grip that might be bruising on a human. “It’s too dark,” Jaskier says, “I can’t see anything, I don’t know where you are, Geralt -” His voice is climbing into panic, and Geralt flounders, unsure of what to do. He’d never seen Jaskier so upset, his heartbeat pounding away in fear. 

“Jaskier,” he says, unable to mask the shock in his tone, “are you afraid of the dark?”

“Yes, Geralt, apparently I fucking am,” Jaskier hisses, and Geralt is glad that Jaskier can at least still sound pissed at him. “This isn’t dark, this is fucking - blackness, I can’t see shit. Don’t leave me, please, Geralt, I can’t.” He’s babbling, his breaths labored as they struggle out of his chest in shallow heaves. Geralt steps close again, raising a hand to cup Jaskier’s jaw. He isn’t sure what else to do. It seems to calm Jaskier to some degree, though his fingers still clutch around Geralt’s wrist.

“I can see,” Geralt says, “and I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t, Jaskier. But I have to kill the queen.” Jaskier’s jaw clenches. Geralt can feel it beneath his fingertips, a twitch of muscle. 

Jaskier takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay. Okay, I’m fine. Go… do your thing.” 

Geralt can still hear Jaskier’s heart racing in his chest. He hates it, at this moment, leaving Jaskier behind. He always hates it, but he’s never had to do it when Jaskier is gasping like a fish out of water and the smell of fear is permeating the air around him. Geralt is seized by the desperate need to do something, anything to make it better, so he reaches out and pulls Jaskier to him. The bard let’s out a short gasp before he realizes what’s happening, instantly wrapping his arms around Geralt to clutch at his back. Geralt finds himself holding the back of Jaskier’s head gently, cradling his skull. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says into Jaskier’s hair. He feels so solid under Geralt’s hands, chest heaving as if he’s run a great distance. Geralt pulls back and cups Jaskier’s face in both hands. “I’ll be back for you.”

“I know,” Jaskier says, shaky but full of that strange, implicit trust. Geralt pulls away and turns before he can change his mind.

It takes very little time to find the arachas nest, nestled a few chambers away from the main room. The bulbous eggs have a slight glow to them that’s almost bright to Geralt’s enhanced vision, allowing him to quickly spot the hulking form of the arachas queen crouched against the back wall. He doesn’t hesitate, launching into a brutal attack. The arachas is startled and unprepared, and Geralt gives it no time to recover or retaliate. His mind is on Jaskier, alone in the other room, panicked and unable to see a potential threat. 

His blade makes its way home faster than it has in a long time. 

A short blast of igni has both the body and the egg sacs burning away, and Geralt nearly runs back into the entrance where he left Jaskier. For a moment he doesn’t see him, and his stomach clenches with dread. 

Then he draws nearer, and he sees the huddled form against the wall. Relief sweeps through him. He tries to project his movements, stepping loudly as he approaches. “Jaskier,” he says, and the bard raises his head so quickly Geralt fears for his neck. There are tear streaks down his face, and Geralt’s heart clenches in sympathy and guilt. Crouching before him, he says, “I’m sorry. It’s done.”

Jaskier reaches out a hand, and Geralt finds himself leaning into it eagerly, reaching back. As soon as his fingers find Geralt’s chest, Jaskier lets out a relieved breath. “Can we go?” His voice is small, and Geralt hates it. 

He hums in affirmation and pulls Jaskier to his feet, allowing the bard to cling to him. “We can go,” he says. “Hold onto my shoulder.”

They make their way back through the short tunnel, Jaskier gripping Geralt’s sword holster tightly. The area just below the entrance is not entirely pitched black, and Geralt can feel Jaskier calming the closer they get. Geralt scales back up the wall first, emerging in the calm afternoon of the forest. Jaskier scrambles up soon after, using a rope that Geralt tosses down to haul their bags up first. It’s too bright up above with the Cat still running through his veins - normally he would have waited below until it had run its course, but he’s glad, now, to squint at Jaskier’s face through the intense light. Jaskier, for his part, flops over onto the ground next to him, breathing hard. 

Geralt drops down next to him, a frown furrowing his brow. “So no more caves,” he observes. 

Jaskier glares at him with bloodshot eyes, and ah, yes, there’s the petulance Geralt had been looking for earlier. “I’m certainly not doing that again,” he says with vehemence. Geralt smiles down at him, reaching out to push Jaskier’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. Their eyes meet, Jaskier’s fatigued. 

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says. “I shouldn’t have brought you along.”

Jaskier sits up so quickly they almost smack foreheads. “Oh no,” he says, pointing a finger in Geralt’s face. Geralt blinks at it, bemused. “You are not using this as an excuse to leave me behind on hunts. I refuse. I’ll follow you. I’ll tie myself to Roach.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Geralt chuckles. “Even if I have to go in a cave?”

Jaskier hesitates, but then huffs defensively. “I’ll bring a torch. You’re not leaving me behind.”

Geralt smiles, affection rising in his chest. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I try,” Jaskier says, and the grin he gives Geralt is genuine and free of fear. Geralt can hear his heartbeat, steady between them. “It would be easier if you cut me some slack.”

“Don’t count on it,” Geralt says, and pulls himself to his feet. “Now come on; we’ve gotta collect venom sacks.” He offers a hand down to Jaskier.

Jaskier makes a face, but takes the offered hand anyways. Geralt pulls him up, holding him close and steady for a moment longer than necessary. The next several hours are spent on harvesting, a job that Jaskier detests but insists on helping with. And as Geralt is watching Jaskier grimace, up to his elbows in ichor, he thinks it might not be a difficult problem to fix. Light charms aren’t cheap, but he knows a few mages that owe him favors. The look of pleased surprise on Jaskier’s face will be worth the trouble. It’s for the best, he thinks. The bard truly is a danger to himself, but Geralt is stuck with him, it seems. As Jaskier looks up to triumphantly wave a venom gland at him, Geralt thinks it might not be such a bad thing.

#october2020 #geraskier #witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #whumptober2020 #no. 18 #whump #phobia #hurt/comfort #<5k #my work

[youllallriseintheink]

The death and rebirth of Susie Campbell

Alright, you asked for this and I’m glad there was an interest. Contact me if you think it needs a trigger warning and I’ll add one.

---

April 20th, 1941.

Susie stared at the door to Joey Drew's office. This was it. She'd spent all morning going through scenarios in her head as to why Joey had called her here.

She was getting laid off, surely. Joey Drew had little in the way of voice work for her now that she couldn't play Alice anymore, so he was going to lay her off. Adding to that the little accident she'd caused with Bendy a week ago, it seemed like that was the most likely reason.

At least, it would have been, if he hadn't called her in at 11:30. He'd done that a bunch of times over the past eight months, and it was always for the same reason: to take her out for lunch, then give her the afternoon off to head to his house and into his bed. She'd convinced herself that there was no problem with it. Sammy wanted to wait until marriage, and, well... well, Susie couldn't quite find a justification that didn't make her out to be a monster. She didn't know why she always fell for his charms, and eventually she stopped even planning to resist. Joey made her feel like the most desired girl in the world, and she just never knew how to say no.

And she always wanted there to be a next time, even if she wouldn't always admit it to herself. She remembered the first time it happened, he'd called her to his office and apologized the next day. He even called her Ms. Campbell- a show of distance and respect. He'd called their affair inappropriate, and an abuse of his power over her. Then, as she was leaving, he'd said, "And Alice?" She'd turned around. "I'll see you around." He'd had a vaguely predatory look on those electrically, intensely blue eyes of his, and it made her heart race. Susie liked it. Since, she'd always paid attention to what he called her: Ms. Campbell (I'm hanging my head, keeping my distance), Susie (we've forgotten last time, right?), or Alice (I'm coming for you). It was fun. Was he all torn up about it, or was he just keeping her on her toes?

The thought of all that made her teeth grind. Thankfully, he'd been smart enough not to do anything of the sort in the last three weeks. He'd be the most tactless man in existence to try such a thing after taking her role away without even telling her to her face. She, however, had tried such a thing. She'd taken him out drinking, gotten him nice and drunk, and asked him: "why did you start pursuing me?" His answer?

He'd just been diagnosed with post-polio disease. He felt powerless. And then he saw a tiny woman, pretty, barely over half his age, under his employment, and in a relationship. He saw a way to feel powerful again. And Alice (he'd called her "Alice" while drunk. She'd taken notice) had just folded like putty in his hands. A little flattery and a little charm was all it took. He did it once on impulse and thought he could leave it at that, but he was wrong.

Susie had left him right then and there and taken a cab home. Needless to say, there was plenty of screaming that night. She wasn't sure Joey even remembered his confession the next morning.

One thing was for sure, though: whether Joey called her Ms. Campbell, Susie, or even Alice today, she was going to summon her inner Alice and take it with grace. If he wanted lunch, she'd slap him. If he wanted to fire her, she'd accept it without a fuss. She'd never show him tears. Never.

Alright, she thought to herself, time to do this. She briskly opened the door and took a seat across from her boss, meeting his eyes with a blank stare on her face. Joey was giving her a warm smile.

"I know how much that part means to you, Susie," he began. Good, her neutral name. "Alice means a lot to me, too. All my characters do! In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I, too, really believe my characters are more than just drawings. They’re alive. They’re a part of us. And I want people to know them as well as I do. I want people to be able to shake their hand, spend an afternoon with em’. Love them. Susie, I’ll be straight with you. I’m putting together a small project… a little ceremony. If it works, a lot of dreams will come true. And I want you to be a part of it. I want you to bring Alice to life once again. What do you say?"

"Ceremony? Well, I- can Sammy come with me?" Susie had no idea what this "ceremony" business could mean, but first and foremost, she wanted to make sure there was nothing lewd about it.

"Why, yes. In fact, he's already coming."

So it wasn't about getting her undressed. This was real- she was going to be Alice again! Susie's heart fluttered at the thought. "Perfect! I won't miss it for the world!" she sang. She got up to leave.

Then, a thought came to her. "Wait," her voice turned cold as steel. "Why me? Why aren't you giving this to Ms. Pendle? I thought you wanted her to be Alice!" Susie grit her teeth and glared at him.

Joey reached over and lifted her chin. "Susie, look at me. All I want Allison to do is stay cooped up in that recording booth. I want that because I have bigger plans for you. You're a better Alice than she ever was, and after this ceremony? Well! Not only are you going to be remembered as the face of Alice Angel for years- no, decades- you'll make her character more famous than you could ever imagine! Someone has to voice her, but you... my real Alice? You'll be her."

Susie could practically feel herself tearing up. "Thank you. I'll do it. Come Hell or high water, I'll be there.

"Good. Sammy will pick you up at 7:15."

---

"So, what is the ceremony going to be like?"

Sammy knew that the ritual was for the best, but looking upon his girlfriend, he couldn't help but feel guilty. "Well, sweetheart, it won't be pleasant," he warned.

"Oh, I don't even care!" she said dreamily, draping herself over him in the back seat of the taxi. "I'm so happy. I'd been agonizing for weeks, hatin' him because I thought he replaced me. But it turns out I'm his favourite after all!" she chirped, adding in, "I'm Alice Angel!" in a sing-song voice.

Sammy smiled. It was good to see Susie so happy. It always was, but especially since she'd been so bad-tempered lately. They really were like twins: two essentially happy people with serious bad sides (hers, admittedly, harder to arouse but harder to live with). That was good: it meant they knew how to handle each other. "Well, that's good. Now, listen. This is going to change more than you think, but I promise, it's gonna be what's best for you. It's going to make you and a lot of other people happy. I can explain the whole thing afterward. Oh, and here we are."

Sammy could feel Susie's nervous anticipation as they entered the building, but it was clearly a pleasant anticipation nonetheless. He led her to a small, empty room, where they met Joey Drew. He smiled warmly. "Good evening to you two! So, Susie, are you ready for our ritual tonight?"

Wanting to look independent, she let go of Sammy's hand. "Yes," she said with confidence.

"Step one, put on this blindfold." He handed her a white piece of cloth. Susie obeyed without hesitation. Joey struck out his fist, allowing it to end up inches from Susie's nose. She did not flinch. Satisfied that she was blinded, he turned to Sammy. "She's ready. Guide her down to the special room with me, alright?"

Sammy nodded. They traveled down to the giant ink machine and went inside of it, finally arriving at a room containing four glass pillars. One of them had a pentagram drawn before it. This did not surprise Sammy: he'd helped draw it. He even knew what kind of pentagram it was. Unlike a revival pentagram, which with a demon's help could revive the dead, or sacrificial pentagram, which sent the slaughtered straight to the Gods, this was a binding pentagram. Joey Drew retrieved a bottle filled with liquid and containing a rag from a cabinet kept on the side of the room. "Alright, Susie," Sammy began. They'd decided ahead of time that he should be the one to guide her through this step. It would be the most difficult part for her. "We're going to put a cloth over your face. All we need you to do now is to breathe in, alright?"

"But why?"

What Sammy supposed to do? Lie to her? "Susie, it's hard to explain. But just trust me that it won't be painful in any way. I promise. Ready?"

Joey put the rag over her face. Susie collapsed, and he caught her and lowered her to the ground.

"Joey! She hadn't agreed yet!"

"Oh, my bad."

"Damn right, your bad. I'm not doing this to her without her consent. We're waiting until she wakes up to try again."

"Consent? She already agreed to this! You were just asking if she was ready. And if we wait until she wakes up, then she'll know that we're using chloroform on her. Come on, let's just get this done."

Sammy hesitated. Then, he gathered up all 95 pounds of his girlfriend and carried her over to the pentagram. She'd agreed to this earlier. This wasn't wrong. Joey took a razor-sharp blade and a strange, hand mirror-shaped object out of the cabinet. Sammy got the paper with his lines out of his pocket. "Ancient Gods of the world, I summon you. Bind the soul of this sacrifice to the ink. May you reign eternal, amen." He repeated the lines over and over as Joey approached Susie with the knife. Elsewhere in the studio, two carefully tended shrines were glowing.

Then, Susie stirred, subtly at first, then violently. Joey wasn't sure what to do and simply put a hand on Susie's chest, centering his weight over her so she couldn't get up. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice raised in panic. Sammy was stuck chanting. If he stopped mid-ritual, God knows what could happen- spells like this were finicky and dangerous. Susie's cries for help made it a serious test of willpower. Joey looked over to his grimacing friend and began to recite the lines with him. Glad to be able to stop, Sammy went over to his girlfriend and cupped one hand around her face.

"Sh... it's okay. It's gonna be okay. This is only gonna hurt a moment, alright?"

"What's going on, Sammy?"

"Normal procedure. Everything is according to plan. This going to hurt, but only for a bit."

The thought occurred to Sammy that rituals probably weren't meant to be this time consuming. Could something as simple as that disrupt the spell? He didn’t want to find out. He nodded to Joey. Susie tried to say something, but Joey began to slit her throat before she could speak. Her cries turned into gurgles as the blade sliced ear to ear. She took over a minute to faint from panic. Joey got out the seeing tool and held it up. By now, his voice was shaking as he recited the lines. It was only his second time murdering someone, and hadn't gone cleanly. Sammy was so distressed that he wasn't sure he could take over for him. It took several minutes for her to bleed out. When she did, her soul escaped, and, watching its movement through the seeing tool, Joey caught it. He pressed his palm against the glass tube. "Ancient Gods of the world, I summon you now," he said. Ink flooded the tube.

The two men stood in silence for several minutes. Once the shock of the situation wore off a bit, Sammy spoke up. "That. Was an unmitigated disaster!"

"Yes. Next time, I'll make the chloroform five times as strong, and we won't waste time arguing," Joey said blithely. Then, he noticed how upset Sammy looked and realized he ought to show some empathy. "You alright? I'm sure Susie will be ecstatic."

"Sure. I'm fine," Sammy answered, sounding not at all fine. "Does it get easier, Joey? Killing?"

"Well, I can only speak for myself, but this one was actually a lot harder for me. The last one I just knocked out with a paperweight and had his throat slit in not even a minute. It was almost... fun."

Sammy hoped it didn't become 'fun' for him, or Wally Franks would be dead eight times over. A lot of other people, too. He glanced at Susie's corpse and felt like he was staring into the abyss of what he could become. "Well, let's go to the ink nozzle. She'll be coming out soon," Sammy said.

When she did, however, all that came out of the ink machine was a shapeless blob of ink. It fell to the ground with a plop and began writhing, attempting to figure out how to move. It emitted a cry like a baby. Sammy gasped. Joey was first to speak. "Don't worry. I'll figure this out. She won't look like that for long. Just help her back onto the pentagram, Sammy."

Sammy gathered the slug-like ink creature up in his arms like a baby. It-she, he supposed- was heavy, cold, wet, and ugly, and he could feel cold ink running down his shirt, but by now the situation had put him in such a daze that very little could have upset him. Walking back to the room with the pedestals, he looked down blankly at what was supposedly Susie, and gave her his best attempt at a comforting smile. Once he was back at the pentagram, he plopped down with the creature on his lap.

"Done!" Joey called from the other room about a minute later. "Twist in the film, is all. This time, I promise it'll work!"

Sammy got up, moved Susie's corpse, and gently lowered the creature onto the pentagram. "Sorry about this," he said, before repeating the process as before: the chanting, the throat-slitting, the capture and use of the soul. He then went back to the ink machine and held his breath that Susie would turn out alright this time. In minutes that felt like hours, the slender figure of a woman appeared from the machine, panting and shaking. She looked at her hands, felt all over her body, then turned to Sammy with a shocked, ash-grey face. "Sammy, what happened!?" she cried as tears began to fall from her eyes.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #my fanfiction #joey drew #susie campbell #sammy lawrence

[shirtlesssammy]

2x01: In My Time of Dying

Then:

Sam and Dean Winchester: Monster hunters

Now:

We pick up right where we left off last season, only this time Netflix got the rights to the proper music. Bad Moon Rising, indeed. Sam, Dean, and John are all unconscious or dead in the now destroyed Impala. The possessed trucker jumps out to double check. Sam’s actually awake (aw, baby Sam Fucking Winchester emerges!) and threatens the demon with the Colt. The demon smokes out leaving Sam to call for his family while the horrified trucker looks on. 

Cut to Rescue 911. The Family Winchester is airlifted to a hospital. Dean wakes in the quietest hospital ever. He starts wandering around trying to find somebody only to find the world’s rudest reception station. It dawns on him that the woman can’t see him. He races back to his room, only to find himself with tubes everywhere and monitors beeping. Oh dear.

Sam rushes in and Dean starts talking to him, but just like the receptionist, Sam can’t see or hear Dean. A doctor comes to tell Sam that John is awake. Sam wants to know about Dean though. He tells Sam they won’t know the full extent of Dean’s injuries until he wakes up --if he wakes up. Dr. Doom and Gloom doesn’t know Dean’s love/hate relationship with death. If he’s alive, he often wants to be dead and if he’s dead nothing is stopping him from coming back alive. 

Sam visits John and discusses Dean’s status. He’s as determined as Dean to save him. (Go, codependency, go!). John says that they’ll look into alternative medicines and then he asks for the Colt. 

That doesn’t sit so well with Sam. But he tells him it’s in the truck of the Impala and Bobby’s on his way to tow it back to Sioux City. John tells Sam to get the Colt and to pick up some things for protection (Oh, how young Sam had NO CLUE what the ingredients were for.) Sam asks if John knows anything about what the demon meant when he said he had plans for him and children like him. John doesn’t know. 

Dean was watching the whole exchange through, and he ain’t buying it.

For Skeptical Son Science:

Sam and Bobby meet by the Impala and Bobby, needlessly cruel, admits, “This just ain’t worth a tow.” DEAN’S SOUL IS ALWAYS WORTH REPAIRING! (Natasha: Preach!)

Sam then gives Bobby the list of ingredients and tells Bobby they’re for protection from the demon. Bobby ain’t buying it. 

John visits Dean. Ghost Dean starts pleading with John to help. He hasn’t called anyone, hadn’t done a thing but sit there. “I’ve done everything you have ever asked me. Everything. I’ve given everything I’ve ever had. And you’re just gonna sit there and you’re gonna watch me die?” 

He hears a noise outside the room and checks it out. A flash of something rushes by and Dean heads to investigate. 

He finds a woman choking on the floor. No one responds to her weak calls for help, and no one can hear him yell. (What kind of hospital is this, just letting a lady die on the floor like that?) 

Sam comes back and Dean keeps trying to talk to him, with no luck. John notices Sam’s mood. Sam tells John he knows what those ingredients are for --summoning a demon. John’s got a plan (Good lord, Sam is his father’s son.) Sam is GOING OFF on his dad, and I mean, in retrospect, oops (but you kind of deserve this for not telling Sam your plan). Dean gets so frustrated watching the exchange he knocks a glass of water off the table. And then lets the audience know that he TOTALLY watches chick-flicks (I know, I know, Swayze always gets a pass). He starts to glitch out and people rush past John’s room. Sam follows them to Dean’s room where he’s flatlined and they’re trying to bring him back. 

Dean sees a reaper hovering over his body and tries grabbing it but is pushed away. It then rushes from the room and Dean gets a pulse again. Whew. He tells Sam that he’s going to get it before it gets him. 

Wandering through the hospital, he finds a woman yelling at others. “Can’t you see me?” etc. Her name is Tessa and she wants to know if she is dead. Dean takes her to her room. He tells her that they’re spirits but if they hold on, they don’t have to die. 

Meanwhile, Sam is telling John he felt like he sensed Dean and wonders if it’s possible. John says anything it possible.

Dean and Tessa wander the Hospital of Young Adult Nearly Dead Angst. 

Actually, Tessa is handling this whole almost dead thing really well. HMMM. “It’s out of my control. It’s just fate.” Them's fightin’ words, Tessa. Dean doesn’t take kindly to “fate”. “That’s crap, you always have a choice.” 

Sam’s back in Dean’s room with his handy “Mystical Talking Board”.

Dean feels like he’s at a slumber party, but dives right in to talk with Sam. Remarkably, Dean doesn’t take the opportunity to immediately spell out B-O-O-B-S. He takes control of the pointer to spell the word H-U-N-T.

Through the board, he tells Sam that there’s a reaper after him. Sam knows that if it’s there naturally, they can’t defeat it. “You can’t kill death,” Dean says rather famously. LOL those were the days. 

Sam spins into Winchester denial mode because there’s always another way! He heads in to talk to John but that little chicken has flown the coop. 

Down in the boiler room (never go into the boiler room, kids!) John unloads a bag of supplies. He takes out a piece of chalk and begins to draw sigils on the floor. 

Sam heads back into Dean’s room with John’s journal. Dean thanks Sam for fighting to save him (as opposed to his absent dad). Dean reads over Sam’s shoulder from the section on reapers, mutters “son of a bitch,” and then heads out on his own mission. 

Dean finds Tessa back in her hospital room, but this time it’s empty and sterile. He drops some interesting facts about reapers, like that they can alter perception. A reaper can appear in any form, which is why we see Tessa in the form of Neil Gaiman’s Death. 

Tessa explains her subterfuge as the only way to get Dean to listen to her (instead of stabby stabby knifey knifey). She’s the spectral presence he’s been seeing all over the hospital, gently reaping souls. “Death is nothing to fear,” she tells him. “You’re living on borrowed time.” Once I finish digging the knife out of my own heart because I just sat around remembering the episode Faith, we cut to John.

John has finished his craft project and slices his hand with a blade while chanting. (I pity the custodial staff who’s going to have to come clean this mess up.) His ritual appears to fail when a custodian does show up and orders him to get out of the boiler room. John levels the Colt at the guy. “How stupid do you think I am?”

Well...stupid enough to lone wolf this demon summoning.

Two other demons flank John. Yellow Eyes mocks John, pointing out that he only has one bullet left. John doesn’t care, though. He’s there to make a deal. 

Upstairs, Sam talks to Dean’s body, telling him that he’s hit a dead end in trying to save him. “I’ll keep trying as long as you keep fighting. You can’t leave me alone here with Dad. We’ll kill each other.” Sam begs him to stay. 

Dean begs Tessa for an exception to the reaping rule. They’re still in the middle of fighting Yellow Eyes; he can’t leave his family now. Tessa tells him that the world keeps turning no matter who she reaps. The world will go on without Dean in it. (Stares directly at the camera.)

Dean refuses to leave and Tessa drops her final bomb. Dean can’t get back into his body. He’s really almost very much mostly dead.

She gently explains that angry spirits are created by ordinary souls who try to stay behind and eventually go mad. If Dean stays, he’s gonna join their ranks. 

John offers Yellow Eyes the Colt and its last bullet if he’ll heal Dean. Yellow Eyes scoffs at John’s offer. He doesn’t think much of Dean or Sam. He then asks John if he knows about the other children. YEAH DUDE. But John definitely hasn’t told Sam or Dean about it. John’s all business. He demands to see that Dean is healed before he’ll hand over the gun. Yellow Eyes is intrigued, but he demands one further concession.

For Vulnerable Dean Science:

Tessa tells Dean that it’s time to go, or time to stay. Whatever his choice, it’s decision time now. Dean turns to her, about to say…………..something. And the lights flicker. Black smoke floods in and possesses Tessa. She looks back at Dean with yellow eyes and smacks her hand on his forehead. 

In Dean’s hospital room, he wakes up and gags on his life support tubes. YIKES. 

Cut to later: the doctor reviews Dean’s miraculous recovery. “You’ve got some kind of angel watching over you.” (Listen, I know this is supposed to be ironic because har har a demon saved him, but…. DUDE Dean you’ve really got some kind of angel watching over you. Wink wink.) 

Dean doesn’t remember a damn thing about when he was near death. He just has a bad feeling about…something.

John checks in with Dean, glad to see that he’s recovered. Sam grills him about taking off but John begs for them to not fight. It’s a mark of how little gentleness they see from their father that John begging quietly for peace makes Sam ask if he’s okay. (#JustSayin) 

John sends Sam on an errand to get a cup of coffee. Once Sam’s gone, he tells Dean about something that Dean did when he was young. 

When John returned from hunts, messed up and scarred, Dean would comfort him and tell him it was all okay. (I need a minute to cry right in your FACE.) John apologizes to Dean for putting so much responsibility on him at such a young age. Dean is being SEEN. John tells Dean that he’s proud of him. Dean double checks that it’s his father. I’ve drenched my pillow. 

John gives Dean one last mission: to watch out for Sammy. He leans forward and whispers into Dean’s ear and when he pulls away, Dean looks horrified.

John leaves Dean’s room and walks up to Yellow Eyes. He sets down the gun. Says, “Okay.” 

Sam, walking back with a cup of coffee and finds his dad lying dead on the floor.

______________________________

Quotes: The High Cost of Living:

Screw you, doc, I’m waking up.

Dude, I full on Swayzed that mother.

You’re much prettier than the last reaper I met.

______________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

#spn recap #spn rewatch #spn 2x01 #in my time of dying #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #tessa #azazel #bobby singer #supernatural season 2

[ti-bae-rius]

The Heart of New York (part 1)

“You really should eat breakfast.”

“Working,” Ty muttered, ignoring Livvy’s stern protest from where she floated listlessly above the unoccupied bed in his room. His lack of roommate was frankly a relief. The Scholomance was great for small nooks and crannies to hide in away from other scholars, but sometimes he just wanted somewhere to lay down and escape people altogether. Except for Livvy. It was worse when she wasn’t there, when thoughts of everything and everyone he’d left behind filtered through. There was Julian and Emma, back from their travelling and back to being the new demon-hunting legends of Los Angeles. There was Mark, with Kieran and Cristina in their beautiful faerie cottage, separated from everyone but each other. There was Dru, though she sent postcards and photos that Ty covered his walls with. And Tavvy and Helen and Aline. And then, tucked away in a cardboard box, wrapped in packing tape and then sealed in a safe, were memories of Kit. 

“You’re thinking about him,” Livvy said softly. “You have that look on your face.”

“Shut up. I’ll go get breakfast, okay?” Ty said, blushing.

“That’s the spirit. Nothing like some light haunting to keep you eating properly,” she teased, and Ty shut the door to his room, a heavy book tucked under his arm to read at breakfast. His life had been occupied for the last year with the demon he was researching. Elusive, photophobic, and - until now - undocumented, the demon was a complete enigma. Which, of course, meant it was a perfect candidate for his investigation. It was called a nyrual, and Ty was itching to find one. He wanted samples of its hide and ichor to study. But up here in the Carpathian Mountains, the cold-blooded demon was unlikely to appear.

He sank down onto the end of one of the long tables that ran the length of the room with a cup of tea and a pastry, the book open beside him. He was careful not to get any flakes of pastry on the pages and, when he was done, pulled one cotton reading glove on to leaf through the pages. His work was spreading across the table, maps and diagrams seeming to burst out of his notebook and onto the table all around him. The only thing that made him look up was when he hit the bottom of his mug and became aware he was drinking the tea leaves at the bottom. 

“Someone’s coming,” Livvy warned and Ty prepared himself. She always kept an eye out to see if anyone was headed over when he was working, giving him those precious few moments to pull his mind away from his work. Changing from one task to another was never something that felt completely comfortable, like a piece of his brain was still with the last thing, but having it not be so instantaneous was a help.

“Blackthorn, you have a letter.”

Ty pushed his headphones around his neck.

“A letter,” he repeated absently. “Thanks.”

He glanced up at his classmate and she winked. That was happening more and more recently. Sometimes he wondered just what they saw in him, what warranted the sideways glances and giggles and winks. He’d looked at old photos and didn’t see all that much difference. Girls liked guys with muscles - Ty knew that. But he wasn’t strong, not like Julian. He looked more like Mark, lithe and long, with willowy limbs. Though he trained to keep his skills honed, he spent more time hefting heavy tomes from room to room and climbing the ladders attached to the library shelves than he did doing strength and cardio.  But then, he wasn’t sure he wanted the Scholomance girls to look at him like that. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he did know was that no one made his heart race and his stomach knot the way memories of Kit did. But still, he didn’t know what that meant – if it meant anything at all. There was guilt there, and fear, and a nagging grief that seemed to whistle through the hole it left in his chest like wind through the rocks off the LA beach. A million emotions mixed together meant it was hard to isolate any in particular, which was just fine as far as Ty was concerned.

He went back to his room with the letter, books tucked under his arm, and put it all down on the desk. Letters were usually from his family, and he’d read it later. He hoped it was from Dru, maybe including some photos from home, or a cool piece of sea glass she thought he’d like. His desk drawer was full of trinkets from Dru; a handful of cherry blossom from his first spring away from LA, a pressed bush mallow flower that grew near the brush, the shed skin of a rattlesnake. It was just itching to be opened now. He edged a finger under the flap of the envelope and started when he saw the official Clave seal.

“Who’s it from?” Livvy asked, floating closer to read over his shoulder.

“Alec Lightwood,” Ty breathed. Alec Lightwood was a god amongst men, a personal hero of Ty’s. He was quiet and serious and unbelievably smart. Ty would never want to be Consul, but he wouldn’t mind being like Alec. His eyes scanned the letter now and his hands spasmed in excitement when he got to the end. “Livvy!”

“I saw!” she exclaimed, twirling around in her white burial gown happily.

“I am writing to you because I’m aware of your research into the nyrual demon species. We believe we may have located a pod in the New York’s Brooklyn area. We will be leading a hunt tonight at nightfall. If you can spare some time and researchers, we’d be glad to have you. Shadowhunters will be waiting for you on the corner of Fulton and Franklin from eleven tonight. Thanks in advance, Consul Alec Lightwood,” Ty read, then looked up at Livvy, wide-eyed. “Wait, eleven? That’s...that’s nine here. That’s...” He checked his phone - there was barely any service here anyway, it was functioning mostly as a clock and a notepad - and leapt to his feet. “That’s less than an hour.”

 He started strapping on gear frantically, Livvy reminding him where his knives and stele were stored. Everything felt rushed and manic, and the rest of his team didn’t even know this was happening yet. With leg holsters half-buckled and his robes streaming behind him like banners, Ty tore through the Scholomance halls, knocking on the doors to his fellow researchers’ rooms, telling them the plan one by one. By the time they were gathered by the portal, everyone drawing runes on each other with haste, Ty already felt breathless. Livvy was muttering reassurances, lingering close by. Only when the head of the Scholomance stepped forward did everyone fall silent. It was hard not to; the Scholomance was led now by Jia Penhallow, after she’d stepped down from a governmental position to spend more time with her family. Even now, the Penhallow name and her gaze commanded attention just the same way it always had.

“Centurions, you are the greatest scholars the Shadow World has to offer. This is a unique academic opportunity, a fact I’m sure is not lost on you. The Consul is counting on you. You are the next generation of graduates from this hallowed establishment. Do not let us down.”

Ty felt as if he was vibrating. His whole life had led up to this. Every day he’d spent working all night because he thought he’d found a lead, every time he was yanked out of sleep by a sudden idea that sent him running through the halls to the library in the darkness, every backhanded comment about his worth on this mission. It was leading up to this. His project, the demon he was investigating, with his research team. They were headed to New York, to the very core of modern Shadowhunter politics, and he was right there at the centre of it. He looked around at his team, who all looked back, wide-eyed. They looked alert, even though most of them had only woken up a half hour ago.

“Blackthorn, would you like to give any final instructions to your team?” Jia offered, and Ty stepped forward. Though speaking to even one of them individually in a social setting seemed like a potential threat, speaking about work was fine. This was his thing; this he could do.

“You should all have brought some containers for samples. If you can draw ichor, or remove any hide from the demon, transfer it to a sterile container as soon as possible. Anything you can take to examine later - saliva, swabs, anything - will be useful. Remember that the demon is photophobic, but this is a last resort. We want to study it, so your witchlights and any bright device is a last resort. Spread the word to Shadowhunters to avoid seraph blades where possible. The light will scare them off, and if we’re going to figure out what this demon’s modus operandi is, we need to gather intel before we can dispatch it.” He pushed his headphones over his ears, grinning. “Let’s go.”

He let the others go first, lingering back until only one of his team stayed. She glanced back at him worriedly.

“Are you seriously going to wear those to a battle?” she asked, nodding to his headphones.

“If I want to get back alive, I am,” Ty told her. She wavered but turned and leapt into the portal.

Ty took a deep breath and turned to Jia, who gave him a nod of good luck, and walked away. He looked up at Livvy, who grinned.

“Go. Your team are waiting. I’ll be right behind you.”

He nodded, shook out his hands like he was drying them to relieve some of the building anxiety, and stepped confidently into the swirling surface of the portal, his boots finding the disconcerting nothingness on the other side before the noise of the battle and the New York streets hit him in a wall of sound.

#rae #malec #kitty #kitty blackdale #the heart of new york #thony #rae and lauryn #laurae #fanfic #fic #kitty fic #malec fic #twp #the wicked powers #tda #the dark artifices

[evilrubberducke]

Strangers In a Strange Land Chapter 3: Growth

The third chapter of my MHA meets Monster Hunter fic is up! In this chapter,  a new area is explored, a plan comes together, and a weapon is forged.

Read it on AO3!:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20280019/chapters/49450166#workskin

Or on FF.Net! :

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13365894/1/Strangers-in-a-Strange-Land

Teaser below cut;

"Would you look at that!" the Field Team Leader said. "My favorite hunting duo's back, and I see you've been hard at work as usual."

"Heck yeah we are!" Mina called from her position atop the convoy.

She and Izuku had indeed been hard at work since taking down the Great Jagras several weeks ago. From mapping the Ancient Forest with the help of the Bugtrappers to securing a host of strange new ingredients for the chef, they'd made a significant impact on the citizens of Astera. People were already starting to take notice of the pair when they walked around Astera, much to Mina's delight and Izuku's consternation.

Now they were making their biggest splash yet.

Beneath Mina, a still living Pukei-Pukei snored wetly. Large, poisonous bubbles emerged from its nose every few seconds, sending the researchers pulling the cart scrambling whenever they popped. Long cuts ran down its face and sides, and a section of bone poked through the skin of its left wing, evidence of a long and difficult battle. Thankfully, the incredibly potent tranquilizers still coursing through its system kept any of its injuries from waking the monster.

Transporting the monster back had been a logistical nightmare, but in the end the ingenuity of the residents of Astera had proven equal to the task. A team of researchers and engineers had managed to whip up the massive cart in just a few short hours, arriving to transport the poisonous monster from the twisted woodland just before it awoke. A second round of tranquilizers ensured that it would make it back with Astera without causing any unfortunate accidents.

The biologists of Astera were already surrounding the cart, clamoring to be the first to examine the monster. Izuku and Mina had to elbow their way out of the crowd in order to meet with the Field Team Leader.

"Mighty impressive work," he said, looking the sleeping monster up and down. "It's been a while since anyone brought back a live specimen for study. Most of the time, our field teams are more concerned with saving their own hides than advancing our research, not that I really blame them. Still, I think you've made a lot of researchers very happy today. They'll probably be buying you more drinks than you can swallow, just as soon as they can tear themselves away from their new project."

He indicated a group of researchers who were actively restraining one of their fellows from clambering atop the monster. He was wide eyed and salivating wildly at the prospect of a breakthrough. The look in his eyes was more than a little manic.

"Remind me to keep well away from that guy," Mina hissed to Izuku.

"Will do," he replied, also glancing askance at the man.

"Moving past that," the Field Team Leader said, drawing the pair's attention back to him, "what do you think about taking a bit of a vacation from the Ancient Forest? We've got a research expedition heading out towards the Wildspire Waste tomorrow, and they could do with someone to keep an eye on them."

"Sounds awesome!" Mina said, her head already filling with visions of a beach vacation. "What's this Wildspire place like?"

The Field Team Leader shrugged. "It's about half desert and half marshland, at least from what our scouts tell us."

Mina deflated instantly. "I don't know why I got my hopes up."

Izuku patted her gently on the back to comfort her, and Mina had to resist the urge to purr. That was embarrassing enough if there was no one around to hear it besides Izuku.

"We'd be happy to help out," Izuku said, addressing the Field Team Leader.

"Glad to hear it. The convoy's heading out tomorrow morning from the main gate. Should only take a day or two to reach the Wastes. After that, it should be just babysitting. Even so…"

The man stepped behind Izuku, focused on the charge blade he carried. Izuku had done the best he could for maintenance in the field, but the iron weapon was still scuffed and splattered with various bits of gunk. He hadn't gotten the chance to polish it like he usually did when they returned from a hunt.

"Might be time to consider an upgrade," The Field Team Leader said when his evaluation was finished. "You shouldn't run into anything too bad, but there are a few nasty monsters that live out that way. A bit of extra power will go a long way in keeping you safe. I'm sure the workshop would be more than happy to do a bit of work on your blade, or make you a new one if they're not too overloaded."

Izuku started to reply, but before he could finish, his stomach let out a loud rumble. Mina started to laugh at the timing, but was interrupted by a gurgle from her own tummy. The pair flushed with embarrassment.

The Field Team Leader guffawed, placing his hands on his knees to keep from falling over. When his mirth finally subsided, he waved the two of them away. "Think about what I said, but do it after dinner. I don't want to hear about the two of you keeling over from malnutrition; the Chef would have my hide. Have fun on your trip!" he said, saluting them before walking away.

"Will do!" Mina said cheerily. She wasn't going to let the fact that they were desert-bound get her down. She was going to do her best to make this trip as memorable as possible.

"C'mon Izuku. I'm so hungry I'm pretty sure I could outeat a Great Jagras!"

Izuku snickered, no doubt picturing her attempting to swallow an Aptonath whole as they had once seen a Great Jagras do.

She placed her paws on her hips in mock indignation, flattening her ears slightly. "Do you doubt me?"

"Never," he said with a grin.

"Glad to hear it," she said, returning the smile. "Now, let's eat!"

#midoriya izuku #mina ashido #izumina #action #fluff #light blood and gore #mha #monster hunter world #mhw #my hero academia #dekumina #minadeku #mha fanfiction #crossover #fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #alternate world transport #monster fighting

[handmadecp]

A5 Leather Sketch Pad Cover.

Hi Guys, here’s another little Project that I reckon is suitable for all levels, as with the Previous A4 you can pretty much do as much or as little as you feel capable of for these. I’m doing a bit of a ‘Run’ on these types of covers at the moment as I discovered I have a draw full of new Notebooks etc. That’s what happens when you pick ‘the odd one’ up every time you go out. (Ha). but they are all varying sizes so should be fun figuring it all out. So..let’s get on.

So, here’s what I was aiming for and as you can see it came out pretty good. Always room for improvement..but not too shabby I think, hope you agree. I decided to do a Sheridan…esq’ type of design that I found in a big Leather craft book which I will show as we go through the build. Here we have the front view.

Back View

Side view showing the Tooled design going over the spine, I was going to leave it blank along here but after cutting the design in I didn’t like it so carried it around and I think it has given the cover a nice look, not often you see a cover with so much detail along the spine…you can do as you choose, it’s your project, if you are a beginner..don’t sweat the small stuff, just do what feels right for you, if you leave it blank this time…maybe you will have built some confidence by the second one..it’s all good. So let’s see how we got to this point.

I struggle to understand the ‘Ounce’ measurements they use to choose thicknesses..which is why I like to get hands on when choosing my leather, so for the benefit of all those who like me would rather they spoke English (lol) I will just describe it. I found a nice shiny, bendable and very ‘tactile’ piece of Veg tan leather, has to be on the high end of the ‘Grading’ as it is a beautiful piece..See, if you think it feels right for a Book cover..go for it, basically find a piece you like, not a dried out lower grade one as the shinier it is to start, the better the finished look will be.

Next I chose the book size I was going to do, I chose A5, you can choose whatever size you wish and just adjust for it as you make it. Seen here is me checking that I have a good excess around the edges. Many times when I first started I would think I had enough then by the time I’ve tooled, cut burnished, stitched and all the other doo dadding that goes on I would find that I couldn’t fit the book in any more and would have to cut the back cover to fit…not a good look…but you live and learn. also I will show another little trick that I use…I have to say I’ve never seen anyone else do this ‘ever’..so I’m claiming it lol. keep reading.

I like to use this method as it saves on a lot of measuring ( not that measuring is bad..I just prefer simpler ways..like this. I place the book inside the cover (to be) and run my finger around the outline of the book as shown here, this leaves a nice outline of the book…after that all I have to do is make sure I don’t glue or stitch any where near that and I’m good to go. Easy. Also, you can do this more permanent as a feature by wetting (Casing) the leather and use something to make the outline more pronounced as a ‘Feature. I like this look but it’s your choice.

Here I am tracing the design I want from a big Leather Craft book, there are many to choose from out there.( I can draw, but tracing is much quicker, I’m still practicing my Sheridan tecnique…for a future project. So this is fine for now. ) Tape the paper down if you need to, I would recommend decorators paper tape..it leaves less marks and doesn’t tend to tear your books. (Generally lol).

Next I wet (Cased) the leather really well, you don’t want it soaking , then leave it to dry out a bit enough to place the tracing over it without it going ‘mushy’. take a ball point stylus tool if you have one and trace over the whole design. If you don’t have one..you can use a pencil or pen but go easy you don’t want to tear through the paper, you only need a light imprint.

Here you can see how the ‘imprint’ has come out, faint but enough, no deep gouges. also note the outline of the book after I wet it and rubbed all around it. I actually used a spoon to do that.

I have chosen to use my new swivel knife with the thicker grip, it is a better option for people with hand problems like myself.

Almost half way, I am cutting the design into the leather. You need to remember how thick..or not your leather is, you want to leave a reasonable depth cut but at the same time you don’t want to cut right through…not a good look.

The design is now cut into the leather and ready for tooling. By now there should still be sufficient moisture in the leather to give a good imprint of the tool…if when you strike the tool you are left with a dark..brownish looking mark   / line..then the moisture is about right, if it is very light then just wipe a damp sponge over it again…not as much as the first time as you are just ‘Topping up’ the moisture content.

Using the Swivel knife, notice I’m trying to keep the knife straight..but I am also tilting it back at an angle ..basically cutting using one corner of the blade.  I learned all this from youtube vids, there are a lot of talented people out there willing to share their knowledge to us for free. Using a swivel knife feels very strange if you have never used one before, I thought I would never get it right…but time and practice is all you need.

The design after the cutting is done.

Half way through the Beveling. Note the white glove, I use soft cotton gloves to prevent my finger nails leaving drag lines or indents on the leather, I was told about this from a youtuber and it’s a great bit of advice for helping to keep your work that bit more professional looking, but …your choice.

Beveling finished, now for the detail work using the rest of my tools and the swivel knife again.

Half way through the detailing.

Close up of the detailing work, the darker areas are the ones that haven’t dried out as quickly.

Notice the marks on the flower leaves, these are called ‘Decorative cuts and are not meant for beveling, they add depth and character to a picture ( this is all learned from youtube vids, I highly recommend you have a look if unsure how to do certain things…or feel free to ask me  and I’ll answer as best I can, by the end of this there wil be hundreds more.

Much more detailing done now, there is a tool called a Pear shader…so called because it is shaped like a pear lol…I have used it to give a flattened almost bruised look to some of the leaves, you can see the light catching on them on the leaves. also, lots of ‘spiraling’ done now along the edges of leaves making them look like they want to unfurl. all these looks are created using a very basic tooling set, it just takes practice. I am by no means a professional…far from it but I have been doing this now for three and a half years and have seen how my old work looks compared to todays, like I said..it takes practice and I practice every week and hope to get even better one day.

After letting it dry out for a while this is starting to look like a book cover now.

Glad I chose to cover the spine too, it looks great.

So now I need to fit the inner piece that will hold the book in place, nothing fancy here, I just cut a piece of the same leather to fit, glued the edges with my evo stick 528 glue (which I use all the time) as shown in next pic and stuck them together , used a roller to flatten it.

Marked the area to glue..expecting that some of it will get cut off when I ‘Trim’ the cover to it’s final size…but for now it helps.

I have now trimmed the cover to it’s required size and used a coin to round the corners, it always looks better than leaving them square I think.

You can see here that I’ve done a stamped edge to the inner piece, there will also be one on the outside upper area , it catches the eye and ‘pulls’ the whole thing together…in your mind.  ( wooaah..deep lol. ) See the block of wax, If you are punching the stitch holes and you find it getting trapped in the leather…once out, push it into the wax a few times then try again, you should find that it slides out easily.

So, we are all cut, bevelled, tooled, stamped and had stitch holes put in where needed, now I’m covering the bits I don’t want to dye, I like the inside to be left flesh colored so I use Decorators tape to cover it but you might choose to dye that too. I’ve also tucked a piece underneath the inner flap thingy piece incase any dye tries to ‘wick’ to the underneath.

As it’s a big ..ish area to dye I didn’t use the daubers they awould take too long and it’s harder to get even coverage, so I use a sponge as shown and it goes on fast and I am able to even it out quickly as shown below.

A nice even coating of the Eco Flo Burgundy color water stain dye. here it is drying out.

Same on the inside, here it is dried and tape removed.

Here you can really see the Leather taking on a new life as a Book Cover but it still needs the Antique coating to really make the design stand out.

About to add the Antique dye, when using this if your first time, put some on a sponge…have some rags to hand….rub it over the area you want to cover ..as quickly as you can then wipe off immediately…Antique dye will darken everything it touches within seconds, so get it on and wipe off, if there are areas that need more…put a bit more on and do the same again…on..then off. Eventually you will probably just need to check there are no tiny areas that need doing..just dab these areas and wipe of until done. If however you look at it and think..oops it’s really darker than I expected now, don’t panic, also have to hand a fresh sponge with some water, dampen the sponge and wipe gently those area you wish to lighten. Don’t press down or you will lift the dye from inside the detail lines….you want the dye to stay inside the detail as that’s what makes it stand out.

Right, so now we are within sight of the finish line, you should be pretty pleased with your efforts by this point if you have given it a go. here you can see the decorative stamp work across the top, this was added to cover a large un tooled area but once a line of stamp was added inside as well it all started to become one. ( Yes..we arty farty types do get dramatic hahahaha. )..nearly there.

The full area just antiqued and drying.

For a finishing touch I added a small snap stud fastener strap which I stamped before doing the stitching.

That strap was attached with a rivet as can be seen here, nothing flashy and I coated the dyes parts of the project with leather Sheen by Fiebings, using a sponge again, there will be bubbles when you do this…there always are, some people water this stuff down a bit and that works for them, but I use it straight and keep gently sponging until the bubbles are gone and it starts to dry and disappear.

You can see the bubbles as I add the sheen coating, easy to do, just keep wiping gently and as the sheen thickens there become less bubbles ..then it goes smooth and see through leaving a lovely shine.

You can leave it there if you like, just Buff up the sheen coating till it shines and you’re done, or..you can add a Leather Balm coat, I use Effax from Norway which is a Bridle treatment that softens leather and it smells great, you could also use Aussie coat or any other Good leather balm if you wanted, that’s just my preference.

These two previous pics show me rubbing in the Balm coat, It’s very waxy so I also then use a hair dryer (Not a heat gun)..to melt the Balm, leave it about 20 mins and then start buffing as I am doing here, it can take a while but keep going because that effax balm does shine up after a bit of elbow grease and the finished look is just brilliant.

Annnnd..we’re done. If you’ve made one of these yourself after this give yourself a round of applause, if you are thinking of doing one after seeing this..I highly recommend you do…you will have great fun and a sense of accomplishment when you are done. If you can’t tool..no problem..a plain nicely dyed and shined up leather cover looks equally as stylish and cool. Hope you will put your pics up if you give it a go..please send me some private pics in my messages as I don’t seem to be getting to see anybodys work lately….and ask any questions, always happy to help, thanks. More to come from the new Workshop this year, hoping to be self employed soon and will be banging stuff out lol…well..thats the idea, we’ll see. Guys, thank you for following my little blog, I hope it entertains you and encourages some of you to give it a go. ‘Till next time..stay Crafty.

#book covers #leather books #leather covers #crafts and hobbies #student books #artist books #Arts and Crafts #gift ideas #drawing pads #sketch pads #artists #drawing #drawing supplies #leather goods

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Today, I’m not proud to say; it was my first time hurting myself. I had an xacto knife, and at the first opportunity I used it. But I regret it once my skin was pretty red; I started to get worried what would my parents would say and how would they react if they notice. Some time later, i got some bandits to hide them, I started to think, would Tim have ever being trough this? And idk, but if you have the time (and if you’d like to) maybe you could do a short fic? It’s okay if you don’t. Thx

Hey anon? Let’s talk.

To begin, you’re not the first person to ask for this topic. It’s a fairly common request, and I’m going to tell you the same thing I always say: no. I know that might seem counterintuitive, because I’ve addressed depression and associated topics a lot. There’s a reason for that, and it’s me projecting. I know where you’re coming from here. It’s comforting to read about your favorite characters going through the same things that you do. 

I’m not a stranger to cutting. It’s something I’ve done, and I don’t mind sharing my experience with it. I think it’s a little different than most people’s.

As I’ve mentioned before, I have something called “depression with psychotic features.” Basically, my depression causes me to have hallucinations, delusions, and paranoia– psychotic symptoms. Before I went on antipsychotics, I had what I describe as a presence in my head. Sometimes it talked, but mostly it muttered and caused intrusive thoughts. The most common one was a desire to stab myself with anything sharp that happened to be around.

At first, it wasn’t difficult to resist. Stabbing myself would cause my death, and that’s an unacceptable outcome. Eventually, it was harder. I found myself playing with knives and experimenting with how much force I could apply without drawing blood. This summer, that escalated into cutting myself with razor blades. For me, it was a relief to finally give in– just a little bit– to the voices in my head.

Here’s the thing: cutting is incredibly unhealthy, and I was wrong to give into that urge. Cutting is addictive. When you cut yourself, your body releases chemicals that relieve pain: physical AND emotional. That’s why it feels good. Because it does, cutting turns into a cycle of self destruction that is incredibly hard to stop. Like any addiction, it stays in your brain for a long time. It becomes a part of you that won’t go away. 

It’s dangerous. You can do severe damage to yourself both physically and mentally. I don’t want you to do that. 

I told my roommate what I was doing, and she makes sure it doesn’t happen anymore. I didn’t go far down the rabbit hole, so it’s not that hard for me to resist the urge that still comes around every once in awhile. That’s where you are right now, and I need you to walk away. Save yourself right now by never doing that again. 

Believe me, I know how hard it is to exist. I know what emotional pain feels like, and I know how tempting it is to walk towards anything that might make it go away for a few seconds. BUT cutting is not a solution. It’s its own problem that will spin out of control. 

Basically, I’m not going to write about anyone cutting– even in the past, even in a way that addresses the harms involved. I don’t think that’s safe, and I’m not going to do it. I’m glad you made that request though, because now I know what you’re going through. 

Please be safe. Please don’t cut. If you need a definite reason not to, it can be me. I, personally, want you to be okay. There’s some girl on the internet that doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. 

If you need someone to talk to, I’m right here. You can reach out if you want. I’d love to talk to you more. 

Love,

Amy

#self harm #blood #cutting #depression #asks

[yasha-pick-me-up]

we get a few years (and then it wants us back)

a project I’ve worked on with @minky-for-short! It’s angsty, y’all, fair warning. If you’d rather read it on ao3, here’s the link! i hope you guys enjoy

Vax liked working at the hospital. He liked feeling useful, helping people to feel better. The fact that Pike was always nearby was a bonus, but he would have enjoyed the job regardless.

Even when it meant he couldn’t be home to tuck his babies in.

“Papa’s gonna read me two stories tonight!” Rosie chattered, animated even as she rubbed her eyes sleepily. “And he said tomorrow we can go play in the park!”

“Really?” Vax smiled, watching her sweet little face on his phone screen. “That’ll be so fun, won’t it?”

“Yup!” she beamed. “Robin’s gonna play hide and seek with me. And you can come!”

“Can I?” Vax chuckled. “Thank you, sweetheart. Can I talk to Papa now? I’m sure it’s past your bedtime.”

Rosie pouted and huffed but handed the phone over after blowing Vax as many kisses as she could. He could hear her giggling as she and Robin went down the hall to their rooms and was still smiling when Shaun’s face appeared.

“Good luck getting her settled down,” he grinned, and Shaun laughed ruefully, shaking his hair free from its ponytail. “You look handsome tonight,” Vax sighed.

“Thank you, my bird,” Shaun smiled. “You look tired. Remind me when your shift ends?”

“I’ll be home around three,” Vax said, double checking his schedule. He peered closely at his husband in the camera. “Please don’t wait up for me this time. Get some sleep and I’ll let myself in.”

Shaun huffed. “I like to see you when you come in…” At Vax’s frown, he relented, grinning. “Yes, fine, Vax’ildan, I’ll go to sleep in our cold, empty bed all by myself, waiting for you to come home and fill the gap you’ve left.”

Vax snorted, eyes rolling. “Bastard.” They both trailed off, just smiling at each other, happy to see each other’s faces, until Vax sighed.

“I should get back to work,” he murmured. “Kiss the babies for me, yeah?”

“You have my word,” Shaun promised, smiling softly. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vax chuckled. “I love you, Shaun. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Vax. I love you too.”

Vax always hated the silence after they ended the call, the sudden lack of Shaun’s bright presence. Shaking his head, he got to his feet to take his turn of rotations.

It was a quiet night, which made the hospital seem slightly eerie as he made his way down the corridors, but Vax was glad there were no emergencies, at least, but it made the hours drag on and on. 3 a.m. seemed like a lifetime away.

He was on his way back from getting coffee when he turned the corner and saw Shaun, leaning against the wall outside the nurses’ station. Just the sight of him made Vax smile, laughing as he hurried toward him, standing up on his toes to kiss him softly.

“What’re you doing here?” he laughed incredulously. “It’s…” He glanced down at his watch. “It’s past midnight? Who’s got the kids?”

“The kids are fine,” Shaun said, voice low and rumbly in a way that made Vax’s face flush. “Can you take a break?”

“I…” Vax peered over to the desk, snorting as he saw Pike in there, waving him on. “Yeah,” he decided. “I’ve got a few minutes.”

“Excellent,” Shaun purred, guiding Vax away with a hand resting on his lower back. He led him back up the corridors, taking him around corners until they reached a quieter wing, Vax raising his eyebrows as Shaun pulled him into an empty room.

“Not that I don’t enjoy this,” he hummed, sitting on the edge of the bed. “But seriously, Shaun, who has the kids? It’s so late.”

“I’m well aware of the time, my darling,” Shaun answered, not looking particularly concerned. “This won’t take long, there’s just something we need to discuss. Something that couldn’t wait until you got home.”

That gave Vax pause, his head tilting to the side. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Shaun sighed deeply, sitting down next to him, hand on his shoulder. “I’m afraid so, Vax’ildan.” Vax frowned, opening his mouth to speak but Shaun cut across him. “You see…you’ve wronged me, my dear. Hurt me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.”

His grip on Vax’s shoulder was like a vice, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of Vax’s heart plummeting to his shoes, the rug pulled out from under his feet and leaving him spinning aimlessly. He swallowed before he spoke, trying to keep his voice level. “What…What are you talking about?”

Shaun’s lip curled into a snarl, one that made Vax flinch away from him and bolt to his feet. “I’m talking about all the pain you caused me, years ago, Vax.” He glared up at him. “I can’t stop thinking about how you hurt me. It’s all I ever think about.” As he stood up again, Vax caught a flash of yellow in his eyes, his mind racing as he started to back away toward the door.

“Shaun,” he said carefully. “I don’t understand. Why…?” And the pieces fell into place, his mouth falling open in horror as the figure before him started to laugh, something hard and cruel that didn’t fit Shaun’s voice at all.

“Oh, Vax’ildan,” he sighed, backing him against the door. “Did you really believe you could just get away from the crimes of your past and build a neat little life for yourself.” And before Vax could move, before he could open his mouth, there was a sharp pain in his side, a blade plunged to the hilt below his ribs. “Did you really think you could hide from me?” Shaun growled, and suddenly it wasn’t Shaun, hands twisting backwards so the palms faced out, smooth brown skin replaced by orange and black fur, the growl growing more animalistic.

Vax groaned as the creature drew the knife back out, his hand grasping weakly at the doorknob as blood started to soak his scrubs. “Hotis…”

Hotis’ wide maw twisted into a smile. “Ah, so you do remember me. I was about to be disappointed, Vax.”

The blade was poisoned, Vax could tell that much. He tried desperately to think of how long it would take for it to affect him, of where he could go, what he could do. As Hotis drew back a large paw, Vax twisted, jerking the door open so hard it smashed into Hotis’ face and bolting out into the corridor, heart stuttering at the roar of pain from inside the room. There was nobody here, he didn’t have his daggers, and he needed help. Taking a deep breath, he screamed the only word he could think.

“Jenga!”

Pike, beautiful, brilliant Pike heard him, because he knew she would, even though it’s been years since any of them had to use their code word. She tore down the corridor, mace in hand, skidding to a stop at the sight of him.

“Vax! What’s wro-?” Her eyes went wide. “You’re bleeding!”

Vax batted her searching hands away, wincing. “Hotis,” he wheezed. “Danger.”

Pike looked up in time to see the rakshasa burst out of the room, claws extended, eyes wild. In an instant, Pike pulled Vax behind her and summoned an impossibly bright white light to blind Hotis. Not wasting a second, she seized Vax’s hand and took off running, dragging him back up the corridors with more speed than Vax knew she had in her. They reached her office and she barricaded the door behind them, breathing hard.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay, okay, okay…”

Vax’s chest was feeling constricted and tight, and there were tears rolling down his cheeks he hadn’t even realized were there until they splashed onto his shirt.

“Okay,” Pike nodded to herself, seeming to come to a decision. “Let me heal you real qui-“ But Vax shook his head.

“Hotis might go after the patients, you need to go…go get security.”

Pike hesitated, glancing between him and the door. “Shit, Vax,” she groaned. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Keep the door locked, don’t let anyone in but me, and…gods, sit down before you collapse, please.”

Vax waved her away, though he did drop into a chair the minute she was gone, his head falling into his hands as he replayed the last few minutes in his head.

“It wasn’t Shaun,” he told himself, trying to be firm but his voice still shook. “It wasn’t him, it wasn’t.”

He continued to talk to himself, trying to slow his heart down, until there was a voice at the door.

“Vax!” Pike. “Vax, let me in, I’m back!”

He actually almost unlocked the door before thinking better of it, drawing back. “Pike?” he called instead. “Is it really you?”

“It is, I swear,” her voice shook with anxiety. “Um, okay, okay, so I call you string bean and you call me pickle. The beads in your hair are from our trip to the beach last summer…”

That was enough for Vax. He reached to open the door, but it took longer than he wanted, making him scowl. He’d picked locks harder than this one, but his fingers were failing him now, feeling thick and clumsy as he finally managed to turn the lock and open the door, Pike sighing in relief.

“Okay,” she smiled. “Now can I please heal you?”

Vax started to move toward her, but a large paw swiped out at her, smacking her in the chest and sending her into the opposite wall. Hotis shouldered his way into the room, teeth bared. “If your friend is smart, she’ll stay down,” he snarled.

Vax skittered backwards, hand reaching for anything he could use, landing on Pike’s heavy stapler. He felt ridiculous, with that as his only weapon, the poison in his body making his tongue heavy and stupid, making him sway where he stood.

“How the mighty have fallen,” Hotis purred. “You don’t look so good, Vax. Please, allow me to put you out of your misery.”

“Fuck off,” Vax groaned, the only words his brain could summon up.

Hotis laughed at that, shoving him back against the window, raising the poisoned blade to his throat, tilting his chin back to expose his neck. “See what happens when you cross Hotis?” he said, voice quiet. “I’m going to enjoy this, but don’t worry. I’ll stop by your home when I’m finished here.” His form changed, and he was Shaun again, still with the awful look of hatred on his face. “What do you think, Vax’ildan?” he mused. “What do you think your poor husband will look like when I’m done with him? Or your little girl?”

When he looked back later, Vax would never be able to recall the exact movements he made, exactly what happened in that instant as Hotis started to press the edge of the blade into his skin. But suddenly, that blade ended up in Vax’s palm, rolled free from Hotis’ grasp, and Vax had swung up onto his shoulders, again orange, thighs tight around his head as he pressed the blade into the thick fur of his neck.

“Stay the fuck away from them,” Vax said with a snarl of his own. “If you ever fucking go near them, I’ll make sure you never find your way out of the Nine Hells again.”

And for the second time since Vax met Hotis, all those years ago, he slit his throat.

The noise Hotis made was horrible, caught between a growl and a scream, throwing Vax forward as he crumpled to the ground. He tried one more swipe toward Vax, wicked claws gleaming, and a bright light consumed him, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ashes and the echo of a scream. Vax twisted hazily, all his energy gone, and saw Pike, panting heavily and leaning against the door, blood trickling down her forehead. Her hand was stretched out toward the ashes, the expression on her face like nothing Vax had ever seen.

Vax’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth, but he tried to speak anyway. “Call Shaun,” he slurred. “The kids…somewhere safe.”

Pike was on her knees by his side in an instant, her fierce expression replaced by a panicked one as she set her hands on his side. All he could do was blink up at her, vision going fuzzy at the edges.

“Stay with me, Vax,” Pike ordered, but she sounded far away, like she was at the end of a long tunnel. She gasped, holding his face. “No, no, no…”

And his vision faded to black.

#vaxmore #vaxilmore #shaun gilmore #vax'ildan #critical role #vox machina #urban fantasy #my fics

[osmw1]

Dimension Wave   Chapter 29 — Dimension Wave: Conclusion

—?!

It wasn’t clear who landed the final blow, but Cerberus let out as if he had been torn apart. At the same time, a flash of white light blinded everybody in the instance as they braced themselves for the next attack. The light dissipated and revealed white clouds on a backdrop of blue… just as the skies had been before all of this happened. White petals blew across the battlefield; we were now in a field of flowers in full bloom.

“We did it!”

Everybody was in high spirits and some were crying out from our shared triumph.

“Good job, team.” “Well done!” “That was a doozy.” “Hell yeah.”

A victory fanfare played in the background—this is an MMO, so of course it did. I sat down on the bed of flower as both my—as both Kizuna†Exceed’s body and mind were exhausted. The tension and anxiety I was holding back crushed me all at once now. It was extremely stressful avoiding getting hit as a Spirit.

—The first wave of Dimension Wave has been defeated!

The game popped up a message in my vision. There was also a ranking of who contributed the most. Let’s see where I placed…

—Overall rank #77: Kizuna†Exceed

Looks like I’m 77th place among all other players. There were a few other rankings as well.

—Total damage given rank #1: Tsugumi†Exceed

No surprise there. That scythe was great for crowd control.

Oh, there’s a ranking for resources contribution as well. Alto and Romina were in the top 10. They did a lot to back us up, eh?

Another category was “Everyday”. I assume that’s for like activities, like cooking and other roleplaying elements? I’m at #542 for that.

“Holy! Look! There’s someone who took 80,000 points of damage!”

That guy was #2 for most damage received, but who’s #1?

—Total damage received rank #1: Kizuna†Exceed

… hey, that name looks familiar! I fell prostrate on the ground. Now that I look at myself, my clothes had been unequipped, leaving me in my underwear.

Name/ Kizuna†Exceed Race/ Spirit Energy/ 19,550 Mana/ 8,100 Serin/ 46,780

Skills/ Energy Production X, Mana Production VII, Fishing Mastery IV, Hate & Lure I, Gutting Mastery IV, Cleaver III, Speed Gutting III, Naval Combat IV, Transmutation I

… well, that makes sense.

“Required level to equip… Energy, in my case…”

I never knew there was a level requirement for my clothes. They got unequipped because I don’t have enough Energy now, I assumed. Guess I don’t have much of a choice but to use my old equipment. I’m glad I kept everything in my inventory. I clicked out of the rankings and looked through other information.

—Buffs and item usage

There were patch notes for new skills, equipment, and other changes as well. More weapon types were added too. Something I was just talking about is the new specialization for scythes, called war scythes; dual blades derived from one-handed swords; and katanas from two-handed swords. I can’t tell for sure unless I check with the next one, but I’m sure there are new items and skills that are affected by each Dimension Wave.

Oh, hey, it said that fishing rods can now be equipped with reels. I’ve gotta get me one of those. I kept scrolling through the notes.

“Racial powers unlocked?”

That line caught my attention while I was skimming. First off, lemme see what’s in store for Spirits.

—Stone of Mediation implemented.

A crystal that allows its user to project their soul. Or, at least, that’s what this Spirit-exclusive rock claims to be able to do. Every Stone of Mediation has a different effect. Some may shorten the amount of time needed to produce Energy or reduce skills’ Energy usage.

Finally, it looks like we all get something from participating in Dimension Wave. Ranks 1-5, 6-100, 101-1,000, 1,001-5,000 all get different items.

And since I’m number 77, I should be getting something pretty decent. I clicked Yes on the dialog box asking me whether I’d like to receive my reward. Then, a slot machine with numbers and fruits on its reels popped up in my vision. After a quick spin, three icons of souls lined up in the center.

—Energy Blade obtained.

It looked so fitting for a Spirit like me, though the description looked far from normal.

Energy Blade Weapon type/ Not applicable Attack/ 0 Prerequisites/ Must be a Spirit User must have at least 2 Energy to equip this weapon. The user charges up the blade with Energy then unleashes all of it in one single blow. Beware that all charged Energy will be expended upon making an attack, regardless of its success.

All that’s there to the weapon is just its handle. It’s reminiscent of old movies and anime, like how the blade part would only appear if the sword chooses its wielder. It sounds cool and all, but I’ll hold off judgement until I try it out. Personally, I don’t have strong feelings either way. Since it’s a Spirit-exclusive weapon, it’s quite the oddball. I bet it’ll be tricky to use as well. At the very least, it’s not an option for me in my current state. It won’t be long until I’m back in business, so I’ll just keep it safe for now.

“Kizuna.”

Shouko showed up just as I had finished stowing away the Energy Blade into my inventory. Just like everybody else, I congratulated her with a “Well done out there”. But even though we’ve defeated the Dimension Wave, she looked less than happy. I couldn’t help but worry about her.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” “No, it’s just that… I overdid it out on the battlefield, causing you to suffer such terrible damage…” “Oh, that’s what’s bothering you? Don’t worry about it. The true winners in games are ones who enjoy themselves, isn’t that right?” “Still—”

Shouko seemed to be bothered about me losing my Energy. I had been swarmed by the mob, hurt myself in trying to protect Tsugumi, and nearly lost my life when I was drawing the boss’ aggro. Even if I had voluntarily done all that, she must be feeling guilty about all of the damage I faced. But I knew. I knew Shouko had tirelessly used her counterattack skill to protect me. Still, the fan-type weapon needs to be charged so, of course, she couldn’t block 100% of Cerberus’ attacks. Nevertheless, it was touching to hear that she had been thinking of me the entire time.

“More importantly, the sea! I mean, I’d love to head back out onto the water, but with the little Energy I have left, I’ll just be dead weight.” “Nonsense. I will help you reach… no, rather, I wish to be by your side and reach beyond the horizon together.” “I couldn’t ask for anybody better. I knew that before, but seeing you out there today, I’m even more sure of it.”

I can’t forget how graceful of an acrobatic Shouko was when facing Cerberus. And frighteningly, she’s as skilled as Tsugumi. Even though her prowess suits the frontlines much better, knowing her and her personality, I’m sure she’ll choose to stay with me. But I know better than to outright ask her to return to the frontlines.

“It’s been a long day. Let’s head back to the First and get some rest.” “Oh, but…” “Hmm?”

Shouko pressed her index finger to her lips, cueing me to stay quiet. Then, she looked over at Cerberus’ corpse. I get it now… gutting, eh? I was going to tell Roz and his party about the power of gutting-type weapons, but I didn’t get the chance to do so. I definitely had a hard time keeping cool back there. I mean, it’s only natural to get mad when someone insults you and your friends, right?

We made our way over to where Cerberus fell and eyed the other players. Many of them were already teleporting out of the instance since the raid was finished. The thriftier ones were walking home while the frontliners didn’t even bat an eye when they used their Tomes of Returning. Some of the braver ones were even saying how they’re headed off for the next battle. There were still too many people around for me to start gutting—that is if I still wanted to keep this a secret.

“Shall we stay here for a while? It’d be a waste to not enjoy the scenery.” “… yeah, why not?”

The bed of flowers was simply fantastic—both in the sense that it was beautiful but also unrealistically so. It’s almost as if the devs put it in here for us players to relax after the raid. Well, Cerberus’ corpse lying there kinda spoils the view though.

“Miss Kizuna!” “Oh, hey, Yamikage. Good work back there.” “I thank ye, but I bear exciting news.” “Ooh, what is it?” “I am now the highest ranked Spirit!” “Number one in the Energy rankings, eh?”

It’s no surprise for someone who has accumulated a total of more than a million Energy. I bet Circle Drain contributed a lot to her growth too.

“Where’s Sheryl anyway?” “… I have been here the whole time.” “Agh! Don’t scare me like that.”

Sheryl suddenly spoke up from behind me. I had no idea she was with us. It’s almost like she concealed herself or something. Well, I’m probably unperceptive because I’m just too tired.

Near the end of the raid, Sheryl was still fighting the mob to not get in our way. It’s boring, but someone’s gotta do it. Or rather, it shows exactly how considerate and attentive Sheryl is. Like that time with the bird-type monster who tried to run from us. She’s always there to back us up and to take care of loose ends. Anyway, it looks like we’re all back together now.

“I don’t think I need to explain much, but let’s enjoy the garden here while we’re waiting to do that thing I always do.” “‘Tis a splendid idea!” “‘kay.” “Yes, let’s.”

I’ll be honest. I’ve never sat around in a park to enjoy the cherry blossoms or anything like that in real life. But perhaps I’m still feeling the adrenaline rush from the fight, this was a little exciting. … I mean, as exciting as looking as flowers can be.

“It’s a little boring to sit around with nothing. I’ll make sure I take up cooking next time, so we can have a picnic or something.” “Will it not be straining your Energy reserves, Miss Kizuna?” “You’re right, but it’s something I should learn sooner or later. It’ll be useful for our voyage on the seas.” “That would not be a bad idea. We bring some food on board, but if we run out, we can rely on cooking.” “Since we have Shouko and Yamikage as specced purely for combat and Sheryl for crafting. I guess that leaves me as the team’s cook.” “… only if you’re okay with it.” “It’ll synergize well with my weapon type too.”

I’ll catch and cook our meals. Now that I think about it, I don’t do much with the fish after I catch them. Why didn’t I take up cooking sooner? The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. Hmm? It sounds like someone’s running up to us. It was Tsugumi and Roz’s party.

“Big brooooo!”

She barreled towards me and squeezed me tightly in her arms. Maybe because I’m low on Energy, but I didn’t have the strength to pry her off of me.

“That was some amazing support there, Kizuna.” “You too, Roz. Almost all of you are ranked in the top 100, right?” “Ah, we were just lucky.” “You guys wanna join us? We were just about to celebrate our victory.”

Roz looked like he thought about it for a quick second. Well, I don’t blame him for being hesitant in front of total strangers.

“I hate to say no, but we’ve got to get going.” “You guys heading out for more grinding?” “Nah, but we’ve gotta figure out our equipment and skills.” “Frontliners sure have it rough. Well, good luck with that then.”

They’re throwing themselves back out onto the battlefield right after a huge raid battle. Honestly, I’m ready to pass out already. Frontliners are just so impressive. Well, I mean, I’ve been in their position before too. I know just how addictive games can be. Roz didn’t look like he was here just to say hi.

“Anyways, I was hoping to talk to the girl with the fan.” “Yes? What is it?”

Shouko looked at him with suspicion. He’s gonna ask her to join their party, I bet. Well, after seeing Shouko perform like that during the raid, everybody should be begging her to join their parties.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join—” “No, thank you.”

She cut Roz off before he could even finish his sentence. Yamikage and Sheryl looked like they wanted to say something but judging by how quickly she rejected him, I don’t think anyone could change Shouko’s mind. It was a bit of a shock, frankly speaking. I wouldn’t have expected her to flatly reject him like that, given how considerate Shouko is. She was quick to understand what he wanted as well. But even for being such an upright and proper lady, Shouko has her brash moments too, I guess. To refuse him like that is not unimaginable. Rosette seemed a little taken aback as well.

“But with your skill, you’d be perfect for the frontlines.” “I will follow Kizuna no matter what.”

… I’ve knew from the get-go that Shouko is like that, but still, that’s super embarrassing for me. I can still remember how politely she bowed to me when we first met.

“I see… sorry for trying to poach your party member like that, Kizuna.” “No worries. That’s just how Shouko is.” “Yeah, I can tell… those bastards have no idea what they’re missing out on.”

I’m guessing he’s referring to Shouko’s previous party members. It’s easy to judge us Spirits by the rumors that surround us. A lot of people fall into a bad habit of blindly listening to whatever strategy sites or wiki pages instead of seeing it for themselves. It really is a shame for them. I’ve really hit it off with Shouko. Not only is she a great person, she’s real skilled at combat too.

“Alrighty, then we’ll be heading off.” “Gotcha. I can’t wait to fight alongside you guys again.”

Roz and his party waved goodbye before teleporting away. But my sister, Tsugumi, is still clung onto me like a koala.

“Listen…” “What’s good, bro?” “Your party’s gone already, y’know?”

Tsugumi looked over her shoulder to see no traces of her teammates anywhere. Then, she shook her head and looked at me.

“What’s up?” “… big bro, are you guys going to sit here and chill for a bit?” “That’s what we’re planning to do. What about it?” “…”

For some reason, Tsugumi was staring straight into my eyes. She only looks like this when she’s really concentrating at her games. She must be thinking long and hard about something. No one—not even Kanata—can break her concentration. It’s like Tsugumi gets into some sort of a trance. Shouko gets into a hyper-aware state like this sometimes too. But Tsugumi? She only gets like this when she’s doing something she likes… that is to say when only when she’s gaming. And seemingly as if she’s figured it all out, she beamed with a smile.

“Alright! I’ve made up my mind! See ya, big bro!”

Then, she disappears after using a Tome of Returning. What was that all about?

“Anyway. Let’s go enjoy the flowers, shall we?”

We sat around chatting until everyone around us had left.

contents: /prologue/ /ch001/ /ch002/ /ch003/ /ch004/ /ch005/ /ch006/ /ch007/ /ch008/ /ch009/ /ch010/ /ch011/ /ch012/ /ch013/ /ch014/ /ch015/ /ch016/ /ch017/ /ch018/ /ch019/ /ch020/ /ch021/ /ch022/ /ch023/ /ch024/ /ch025/ /ch026/ /ch027/ /ch028/ /ch029/ /next/

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[vampire-email]

while the rhythm of the rain keeps time: chapter two

ao3 link (kudos appreciated!)

from the beginning: ao3

Rating: General Audiences (subject to change)

Pairing: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

Chapter Word Count: 4,604

Full Word Count: 8,670

Summary: Phil didn’t very much like the rain, but at the same time, he didn’t very much dislike it, either.

It had a distinctly lonely feeling, like if he allowed himself to get lost in the sights and sounds and smells of the rain everything else would disappear and he’d become the only person in the world.

A little odd, yes, but some days he’d ache for this feeling. He wasn’t sure why, but sometimes all he’d crave was utter solitude, so he’d have space to think his own thoughts and exist without being a bother to anyone else.

a/n: a special thanks to my beta readers, @freckliedan, @shrugs-are-kinky, and @edgylester for making this fic possible! Go show them some love!

likes and reblogs appreciated!!

Chapter Two: Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

Phil didn’t very much like the rain, but at the same time, he didn’t very much dislike it, either.

It was okay, he supposed.

It made his mornings a bit slower, he mused, but it was also kind of peaceful, listening to it pound the outside world tirelessly.

It had a distinctly lonely feeling, like if he allowed himself to get lost in the sights and sounds and smells of the rain everything else would disappear and he’d become the only person in the world.

A little odd, yes, but some days he’d ache for this feeling. He wasn’t sure why, but sometimes all he’d crave was utter solitude, so he’d have space to think his own thoughts and exist without being a bother to anyone else.

The rain was melancholy and somber, and it put Phil in an odd sort of mood where all he wanted to do was lay down outside in the grass and let it wash over him.

If it was warm enough. Cold rain was the worst. He was staying inside for that shit.

Today, unfortunately, he didn’t have any time to ponder the different ways rain made him feel, because he had a double shift at the Starbucks next to Tesco and it started in less than an hour and he hadn’t even gotten out of bed.

He’d recently taken up a second, part-time job because as it turns out, a job in graphic design didn’t exactly make the most money--and to put it bluntly, he was broke as fuck.

He went in to the office three times a week, and was expected to finish his assigned projects at home if they hadn’t been completed at work. Which was all fine and dandy, but the little ADHD monster that lived in his brain tended to grab the controls and make him do something utterly ridiculous like hyperfixate on the interesting article he was reading about children’s brain development instead of doing literally anything else he was supposed to.

He had actually been offered a home office, which would have been excellent in the fact that he would have been able to wear nothing but socks and a pair of boxers while working, but it also meant that he probably would have ended up lying on his back and watching the blades of the fan spinning and trying to count how many times they go around in a minute instead of getting any work done.

He was glad, at least, for the fact he had a steady income and he didn’t absolutely hate his job, no matter how slow it got sometimes.

Anyway, whenever it got boring he’d always end up doodling straight onto the desk he was sitting at (he’d have to wipe it off later) or coming up with elaborate daydreams in his head about scenarios that were completely unrealistic (that was the fun part).

Speaking of daydreaming--Phil reluctantly pulled himself back into the present and realized that he’d wasted ten minutes allowing his mind to wander as he sat in bed, being about as useful as a garbage bag full of rocks.

That was the one thing he didn’t like about his job--his mind wasn’t allowed to wander or else he’d lose track of time and five minutes turned into ten and ten minutes turned into thirty and suddenly he’d been thinking about absolutely nothing for the better part of an hour.

Unfortunately for Phil, he got most of his best ideas when he let his mind roam free, and sitting at a desk all day was the perfect way to kill all of his inspiration.

He wasn’t completely oblivious to what was going on inside his mind, however; he had seen a doctor about medication for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and while it had worked pretty well at first, at some point or another the doses stopped working as well and it felt like the pills were only taking all his ADHD-fueled ideas and guiding them in the general direction of where they were supposed to go. The side effects were also awful--sometimes it seemed like any noise that was too loud or sudden could launch him into a panic attack and he often felt like vomiting.

He hadn’t had the time to go back to the doctor who had prescribed them in the first place, and so he’d just put the bottle on a high shelf and tried to forget about it.

Alongside battling his attention-disorder, Phil also had to deal with being both physically and mentally exhausted to the point of breaking due to his new part-time as a Starbucks barista.

He barely had any free time, either, and he usually spent his blessed days off sleeping for fourteen hours and ordering takeaway and playing Mario Kart on his couch alone.

Lovely.

With these thoughts in mind, Phil finally rolled out of his bed and dressed in the boring all-black that his job required he wear.

His mind still muddled with sleep (though thankfully warmed up by his wandering thoughts), Phil shuffled his way into the kitchen to get breakfast.

Pulling the coffeemaker towards himself and shoveling generous amounts of ground coffee inside it, Phil wondered if he’d have time to shower before heading to work. Probably not.

He lived close enough to walk to the cafe where he worked (not that he particularly wanted to--it was all drizzly and cold outside) and so he never had to worry about finding a method of transportation (he was awful at driving, the Tube gave him anxiety, and he didn’t have money to spare on cabs). He had a bit of time before he had to leave, enough to finish breakfast and sit and stare at the kitchen counter beneath his mug (or perhaps the telly) and wonder whether it was really worth getting out of bed this early for a job.

Shuffling around the kitchen and pulling a box of cereal from a cabinet, Phil made himself The Breakfast of Champions with little more than dry cereal and a big enough bowl (likely because of all the times his mum had chastised him for eating cereal with his hands straight out of the box, which resulted in a squirmy guilty feeling every time he did it).

There was, however, no point in using a spoon for dry cereal, which really only meant less dishes to wash later.

Pushing his glasses up his nose and sitting in front of the television, Phil wondered whether he could turn it on and watch half an episode without all his self-control going down the drain. Considering… er, previous events, Phil decided to keep the telly off or else he very well might end up marathoning The Office or Food Wars! instead of going to work like he was supposed to.

At least he knew what he was doing tonight.

Before he knew it, fifteen minutes had passed and he had to be at work in ten and he hadn’t even gotten his shoes on- but that was okay because they were just by the door, and so were his house keys-

Running back into his room to grab his phone and to turn off all the lights, Phil skidded back through the kitchen and nearly hit his head on a cabinet door he had forgotten to close.

Damn cabinets.

Phil slid his shoes on and slammed the door behind himself, barely remembering to lock it.

Walking briskly through the lobby of the apartment complex (his flat was on the ground floor, which was by far the Least Cool place he’s ever lived) and stepping through the double doors, Phil immediately found himself standing in the pouring rain.

He wished, as he always did whenever it rained, that he owned an umbrella.

It’s not like an umbrella is always first on his mental list of Things To Buy whenever he went to the store--after all, there were always much cooler and conventionally useful (he had always had trouble preparing for the future--which was why he currently lived on the first floor of an apartment building with one job in graphic design and another at Starbucks).

Phil resigned himself to walking along the sidewalk, already soaking wet and freezing. For God’s sake, it was June! Why was it so bloody cold outside?

Checking his phone and realizing that his shift was supposed to start in three minutes, Phil started walking slightly faster. He could always blame the rain for his tardiness.

--

By the time he finally set foot in the coffee shop and stepped behind the counter, the rain had relented slightly (although Phil was still very wet).

At the sound of his arrival, Devon (the shift manager) turned and regarded him with a look of slight disapproval.

“Phil, you’re late. Again.”

Phil swallowed. “I’m sorry, Devon- I lost track of time and it was pouring rain and I uh, forgot my umbrella-”

Devon dropped their stony disposition and grinned. “Yeah Phil, I’m sure you forgot your umbrella that totally exists. C’mon, we were gonna draw straws-” They guestured in the general direction of Alex and Liz, who waved, “-but since you’re the late one, you get to wipe the tables!”

Phil groaned exaggeratedly.

“C’mon, Devon, I did that last week! Besides, I’m all wet and-”

Devon held up their hand to hush Phil, and turned towards the back room, chucking an old towel at Phil.

Phil then proceeded to get hit in the face with said old towel, to which the people behind him burst out laughing.

Ignoring Liz and Alex’s giggling, Phil ripped the towel off his face and surveyed Devon with a look of mock disgust on his face.

“Fine,” Phil said haughtily, “but believe me, you’ll regret making me do this!”

Devon snickered.

“C’mon Lester, we don’t have time for dramatics. Just wipe the damn tables down and be done with it, okay?”

Phil rolled his eyes, hiding a smile on his face. Doing actual work might suck, but at least he wasn’t totally alone. His coworkers were pretty cool.

--

After wiping the tables down, Phil was instructed to make drinks for the morning stragglers with Liz as Alex manned the registers. Devon was in the back doing inventory- something that Phil was very glad he wasn’t in charge of.  

Making drinks was fairly simple for the most part--save for the insanely complicated ones. Phil still hadn’t gotten the hang of doing the fancy ones with the custom flavors and customers who knew the menu better than he did--especially the Starbucks “secret menu,” which simply took drinks that already tasted good and added a bunch of complicated ingredients to them. Liz was in charge of those. Phil was fine with making lattes and frappuccinos and tea for now.

He and Liz made a great team, with Devon scrawling the abbreviation of the drinks on the cups and passing them to Phil, who glanced at the order and determined whether or not he could make themself. If not, he would have to pass them to Liz, who had been here for years and knew every possible combination like the back of her hand (that metaphor confused Phil. There wasn’t really anything that distinguished the back of  one hand from another, unless you had a tattoo or something). Phil had only been here about a month, which immediately meant he was tasked with the more physical jobs, like sweeping the floor after the shop closed and taking care of the registers when nobody else wanted to.

Phil, Liz, and Alex continued working until about ten-thirty, when the lunch rush was just beginning.

That was when Alex, who looked even more exhausted than usual, took off her apron and hung it in the back. Devon stepped out, and stood in front of Liz and Phil.

There was a chocolate chip in their hair.

“Okay guys, Alex is taking her break and I need Phil to watch after the registers. I’ll be helping Liz make the drinks, and as soon as Alex is back, she’ll help Phil. Got it?”

They all nodded. Alex walked out the back door, likely to go sit at the plastic table out back. In the pouring rain. Sometimes Phil admired Alex for her complete inability to give a shit.

Phil took up his place at the register, and plastered on a smile for the growing queue of customers waiting to order.

God, people were scary.

Taking orders was quite stressful, and he had to remember the correct abbreviations of the drinks and try to understand what the customer said their name was- Riley? It was probably spelled Reileigh or Rylie (he’d had both already) or some other monstrosity sent from hell.

It was during a lull in business that Phil took the opportunity to slump against the counter and stare at the door to the shop, desperately hoping for no one else to walk through so he wouldn’t have to get up.

Devon looked at him pityingly.

Phil glanced down at the counter, swaying slightly and studying the swirling design of the plastic countertop and the crumbs that had managed to stick there.

Lo and behold, someone else stepped into the shop, and Phil smiled automatically while stepping forward to take their order.

An hour later, his head throbbed from talking to so many people, and with a nod from Devon, Phil stepped out of view from the customers and perched himself on an old stool in the corner.

This was exhausting.

Tipping his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, Phil took a few deep breaths. Only a few hours until his break, and Devon was being kind enough to let him relax for a few minutes.

He was already so tired, but that didn’t mean he could slack off his job like this.

After a few minutes of sitting down, he’d surely be able to stand up again and go back to work without wanting to die.

...Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but Phil was a gay twenty-something and also happened to be exhausted to the point of collapsing. He figured he could cut himself some slack.

--

When the boy with curls damp from the rain and eyes the color of the coffee Phil was making stumbled into the shop like some great force of nature, Phil couldn’t help but glance up.

And he kept glancing, but then he somehow ended up taking longer looks that lasted only a few seconds and then only a few seconds turned to even more seconds until suddenly Phil realized he’d been outright staring at the man for at least a minute.

Behind him, Liz cleared her throat loudly.

“You can’t stare at the pretty boy while I do all the work, Lester,” she teased.

Phil nodded, taking his eyes off the stranger and finishing the iced tea he was making.

At that moment, Alex stepped back into the store, her short hair soaking wet and her clothes dripping water on the floor.

“I’m off my break,” she announced.

“You do know that someone will have to clean that up later, right?” Devon inquired dryly.

Alex said nothing and stepped behind the counter, putting her apron back on and gesturing drippingly to Phil to help her with the cash registers.

Devon sighed and stepped back to help Liz with the drinks.

It was at this moment that the boy (who was still slightly damp and who also seemed to be having some internal battle) stood up from his seat and made his way over to the counter.

Phil’s heart did a funny swoop thing and he was pretty sure he could hear the blood rushing through his ears.

Did he really fall apart this easily whenever an attractive person breathed in his direction? Honestly.

The stranger, who still hadn’t noticed Phil yet, surveyed the pastry cases and stepped closer to study the menu.

With a jolt, he seemed to realize that Phil was there, and proceeded to stare at him, a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

Phil was aware of the fact that his own face was likely bright red.

“Er, hello,” Phil began. “I’m Phil. What can I get for you today?”

It was a miracle he hadn’t embarrassed himself already.

“Oh, er, well- I, I actually haven’t decided yet? I mean, uh, yeah.” The stranger’s tongue seemed to trip over itself in an attempt to get the words out. “Sorry,” he added as an afterthought.

Phil felt his heart soften at the boy’s nervous stuttering.

“It’s fine. Take your time! It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Phil managed, and then felt himself cringe as he realized that it probably sounded he was implying that the boy needed Phil to make an order, or something. God. Why was Phil always embarrassing himself like this?

The stranger cleared his throat, and Phil snapped back to the present.

“I- could I actually have, um, the er, the Caramel Mocha Latte? That’s good, right?” He paused, considering. “Could I also get an, er, a blueberry muffin?”

“What size?”

The man blinked. “Sorry?”

“What, er, size do you want your drink?”

“Oh, sorry. Um, medium, I reckon.”

Phil nodded, pulling a grande cup towards him. “Could I get a name?”

The stranger looked confused for a second, and then seemed to realize what Phil meant.

“Oh, right. Uh, Dan.”

His name was Dan.

Phil scribbled that on the cup, along with the abbreviation for the drink.

“That’ll be, er, £8 .50. Cash or card?”

Dan, who had seemed to be staring off into space, seemed to jolt himself back into the present. Phil could relate.

“Oh, yes, card, sorry,” Dan said, fumbling for his wallet and extracting a credit card.

Phil nodded and took it. Dan’s eyes were very pretty. So were his curls, and the light dusting of freckles across his nose- Phil shouldn’t be thinking about this.

Dan, as if oblivious to the effect he was having on Phil, seemed fascinated with the way Phil’s hands moved as they swiped the card.

If the twinge of pink lining his cheeks were anything to go by, Phil could guess that it was either very cold outside or Dan was still embarrassed about the loud entrance he had made a few minutes previously. There had to be a reason he was blushing like that, right?

Phil handed the card back to Dan, who now appeared to be staring at Phil’s mouth. Embarrassed, Phil wondered whether he had food stuck on his upper lip or if he had missed a spot shaving that morning.

Ducking his head and reaching into the pastry case, Phil pulled out Dan’s muffin. Tucking it into a paper bag, he set it on the countertop between them.

Clearing his throat, Phil waited for Dan’s gaze to snap back up to his own. God, his eyes were gorgeous.

“Er, your drink will be ready in a few minutes over there-” he gestured towards the end of the counter, “-and here’s your muffin! Enjoy your food,” Phil added, smiling at Dan.

Dan smiled back. He had a dimple. Phil immediately wanted to kiss it. He also wanted to bury his face in the crook of Dan’s neck and stay there for a while, but he had a job to do and also Dan was a complete stranger and- God, Phil was probably so creepy for thinking like this.

As if on cue, Dan took the muffin between them and gave Phil an awkward wave before walking back over to his table and sitting down.

Turning back to face his coworkers, Phil was immediately unsurprised to see all three of them gaping at him. Even Alex.

“That was literally the most awkward interaction I have ever seen.” Devon said, their hand over their face.

“Oh my God you guys, get a room,” Liz quipped, trying not to laugh.

Alex just stared, an expression of shame on her face. “God, Lester, what was that? Have you ever successfully flirted with anyone, I don’t know, ever?”

Phil rolled his eyes, his heart beating unfairly fast in his chest. “Can you guys just make the drink? I wasn’t even trying to flirt at all! I was just taking his order! He probably doesn’t even like guys, for fuck’s sake.”

Devon snickered. “You mean to tell me, the master of gaydar, that that man wasn’t ogling your ass when you turned around to get his damn muffin?”

Phil sighed. These people were relentless.

Alex grabbed his shoulders, looking like she was ready to shake him. “Phil, I swear, if you don’t have that guy’s number by the time he leaves this place, I am going to personally walk to his house and get it myself. You hear?”

Phil shrugged her off. “C’mon guys, seriously. Can you just make his drink?”

Liz raised an eyebrow. Devon smirked. They all backed off a little, although the looks they shot each other definitely meant they weren’t going to leave this alone.  

A few minutes later, Dan’s drink was ready and Phil had taken orders from three more customers. Liz had called Dan’s name and he had come up to collect it--and Phil definitely didn’t miss the intense stares all of his coworkers had given Dan as he walked away.

“Nice ass,” Alex commented slyly, eyeing Phil to see his reaction.

Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Again. Honestly, at some point his eyeballs were going to pop out of his head and onto the floor, just like his mum told him they would when he was a teenager.

Phil’s co-workers weren’t the only ones staring at Dan, though. Phil had to admit it was actually quite hard to keep his eyes off the man’s figure, hunched over the table and scribbling in what looked like a journal of some sort.

He was left-handed. Phil wasn’t sure why that was important to him, but it was.

Once or twice, he was sure that Dan was looking at him as well. It was hard to tell, though, and anyway, why would someone as pretty as Dan be looking at Phil?

When it was nearing the end of Phil’s shift and he was glancing anxiously at the clock every few seconds, Devon seemed to take notice of this and casually made their way over to Dan, who was still sitting at his little table.

Phil was too far away to properly hear what was going on, but when Devon first began to speak, Dan’s head jerked up, like he hadn’t expected anyone to take notice of him.

Dan only seemed to look further confused as Devon went on, but when they jerked their head back in the direction of the cash registers, Phil began to have an idea of what was going on. Dear God, he wished he didn’t.

Hiding his face in his hands, Phil wished dearly that Devon had only walked over to inquire about the quality of Dan’s drink, or the weather, or literally anything other than what Phil knew it was about.

Peeking through his fingers, Phil saw just in time Dan scribbling something on a napkin and offering it to Devon. Dan’s face was quite red.

When Devon turned around with a smile big enough to engulf their face, Phil groaned and stood up fully, hands gripping the countertop.

Dan, whose face was still beet-red, stared at the floor and tucked one ankle behind the other nervously. Phil turned his attention back to Devon, who slapped the napkin down on the counter proudly.

“You’re welcome, Lester. I just got you a pretty boy’s number, and you bet your ass you will call him, or I’ll do it for you! ”

Phil sighed. “Like how you got his number from him for me as well?”

Devon rolled their eyes. “C’mon, I’m doing you a favor. He was so cute about it too! I thought if his face got any redder, he’d explode!”

Devon looked at him expectantly.

Phil swiped the napkin off the counter and tucked into his pocket. “There. Happy?”

“Obviously.”

--

Phil was sitting in his flat.

The rain was still drizzling outside, and the sounds of it hitting the pavement echoed off the tall London buildings and created a peaceful, rumbling sound--like a cat purring loudly or the far-off sounds of a train on the railroad.

The sun was setting, and the darkening sky seemed to breathe with the city, creating that special sense of calm that only a rainstorm at night could produce.

All the curtains in his flat were open, as if trying to welcome the last streaks of washed-out daylight left in the world, and the room was getting darker and darker at such a pace that if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to watch it happening.

Phil, oblivious to the rest of the world, was clutching a brown, wrinkly Starbucks napkin with pen marks messily scratched onto its surface.

His handwriting was adorable. It had a slight left slant, and he had drawn a smiley face next to where he had scrawled his number for Phil.

His number. For Phil.

Phil wondered if he had even gotten out of bed that morning or if this was all a dream.

God, he hoped not.

It was around six in the evening, and Phil, in lieu of turning on Netflix and binging a series like he normally would, was sitting on his couch with his phone in his hand and debating whether to call the number on the napkin.

Oh God, what if it was fake? What if Dan had just given a pretend number to make Devon go away? Phil wouldn’t blame him. Oh God. This was so embarrassing. Phil didn’t even know what Devon had said to acquire the number, and to be completely honest, he didn’t want to know.

This was nerve-wracking.

Should he call or text? A call might look like he was trying too hard, but a text might look like he wasn’t trying enough- oh, he was insane. He definitely wasn’t going to call Dan. Did he have a deathwish? Phone calls were awful.

Before he could overthink it, Phil typed out a quick text.

Hey, Dan. It’s me, Phil, from Starbucks!

Okay, that was simple enough. Phil highly doubted Dan had met another person named Phil and had also given them his number on the same day, but it never hurt to make sure, right?

Phil sent it before his brain’s irrational panicking could get in the way, and tossed his phone down on the coffee table as if it were a bomb.

Staring at it, Phil waited for something, anything, to happen.

Nothing happened.

Phil was forced to acknowledge the fact that no, sending a text before he got the chance to over-think it was definitely not a guaranteed way to stop his anxiety from going into overdrive. If anything, it was worse.

Flopping back against the couch, Phil stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was a fake number. Dan probably wasn’t going to reply, and Phil would never be able to face his coworkers after this embarrassment.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed with an incoming text, and Phil lunged for it.

hi phil! to what (or whom, i suppose) do i owe this pleasure? :)

Grinning to himself in the semi-darkness of his flat, Phil typed out a response to the boy with the coffee-colored eyes and a blush that happened to be the exact shade of the begonias growing in the dirt outside the building.

Maybe rain wasn’t quite so melancholy after all.

#phan #phandom #phanfiction #chaptered phanfic #chaptered phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #dan and phil #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #dan #phil #my work #original #ava writes #writeblr #daniel howell #dan howell #philip lester #phil lester #lots of tags

[levimercer]

CONTENT WARNINGS: graphic depictions of violence, blood, guns, torture

The click of metal on metal and the shuffle of feet echoed through the room and combined with the din of general conversation and the buzzing of the score boxes to build up to a proper racket.

Levi took a sip from his water bottle as his gaze tracked the fencers up and down the strip. It was only a practice tournament, but Levi was currently undefeated in the pools and he had no plans on going down any time soon.

He watched until the bout was over—Tom absolutely crushed Peter with a final score of 15 to 4—until glancing around the room again. Levi’s attention caught on Coach; he was talking to a man who looked like he had no business in a fencing club and before Levi had much time to observe the newcomer, Coach was pointing toward him and the stranger started walking over.

Levi scrambled to his feet, mask tucked under one arm and epée lying abandoned on the ground. The man was dressed to the nines in the slickest suit Levi’d ever seen. Though he had several inches on the man, Levi couldn’t help but feel small in the stranger’s presence.

The man extended his hand for Levi to shake. “Levi Mercer.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “We have some things to discuss.”

—————

The buzzing fluorescents cast the room and its occupants in a sickly glow. The room was sterile—white walls, white tiled floor, a shiny silver table, and a drain in the center of the floor than Levi didn't want to think about too hard. He shifted uncomfortably and risked a glance at the people around him. There were three, two men and one woman, and they were all wearing the same things Levi was given: a white t-shirt and khaki pants. All looked as out of place as Levi felt. He was halfway through convincing himself to talk to one of them when the door swung open and the man from the fencing club walked in, a briefcase in hand. He set the briefcase on the table and clicked it open and inside were—

Guns?

Five of them. Handguns. Black and metal and as impersonal as they come.

Levi grew up with a police officer for a father so he'd seen guns before, but he'd never actually held one and seeing these up close made Levi balk.

Without speaking a word, the man took one of the guns and with deft motions took it apart, setting the pieces purposefully on the table. After a heartbeat, he reversed the whole process until he was left holding the handgun all in one piece.

"No one is leaving this room until they can take their gun apart and put it back together in under two minutes," the man said flatly.

Two minutes? Levi was hardly able to follow the blur of the man's hands, and now he was supposed to do it for himself?

"Well?" the man spoke again, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Better get started. This is the easiest thing we're going to do today."

—————

Levi was dripping with sweat and gasping for air. A sharp pain in his side told him that at least one rib was broken. He hardly managed to block the next swing before stumbling back.

In a moment of sheer spite, he spat some of the blood in his mouth into Michael's face.

Bad move.

It turned out, Michael had been holding back. He sure as hell wasn't now. In a flurry of blows Levi couldn't even begin to follow, Michael had Levi pinned to the wall with his hands an iron vice around Levi's neck. Levi kicked and scratched at Michael's hands, but his grip only got tighter. Just when he was on the edge of passing out, the pressure was gone and Levi slumped to the ground, barely conscious.

A hand on his chin forced him to open his eyes and swimming in front of him wasn't Michael but Command.

Command scoffed and pulled back.

"Again."

—————

After a particularly grueling day of combat training, they all found themselves piling into a taxi and warming up a booth at their favorite local bar.

Patrick had gone off to fetch another round of drinks and Alice had just made a crude joke that had Jordan in stitches. Levi laughed along with them, draining the last of his beer.

The next generation of England's greatest spies all piled into one booth in the trashiest of dive bars.

Levi wouldn't have had it any other way.

—————

It was so simple.

A mission. A target. Information to be extracted ... by any means necessary.

Still, with the man gagged and bound and wriggling at his feet on a stretch of crinkling blue tarp, Levi couldn't bring himself to make the first move.

"C'mon, kid. Don't have all day," Michael grunted. When Levi continued to hesitate, Michael rolled his eyes and snatched another knife from the bag for himself. He knelt next to the struggling man with a terrifying smile. The man's eyes looked ready to bulge out of his head.

"Now, Mr. Anderson," Michael started, dragging the blade down the target's chest. "I hear you've been naughty." The knife came to a halt on Anderson's stomach. "What's a bloke like you doing with millions of pounds in offshore bank accounts?"

Anderson tried to speak through the gag and Michael dug the knife in harder, drawing blood through the shirt. "What was that?" he asked sweetly, tugging the gag from Anderson's mouth.

He started babbling, the words tumbling out while tears streamed down his face. "I don't know what you're talking about I have a family I don't do anything like—"

"That's enough from you, Philip," Michael said and shoved the gag back into the man's mouth. He sobbed pitifully into the fabric. Michael's tone was no longer teasing and his eyes glinted dangerously. "Now my friend here," Michael drawled, glancing up at Levi and narrowing his eyes. "Is going to ... encourage you to let us know who your contacts are."

Michael got back up and fixed Levi with a chilling stare. Levi clenched his jaw and dropped his gaze. With a deep breath, Levi fell to his knees beside the man, his hands white-knuckled around the hilt of his knife.

"Remember, Mr. Anderson. All you have to do is give us their names and this will all be over." Michael nodded at Levi. Levi squeezed his eyes shut before rucking up Anderson's shirt, taking the blade and slicing it deeply through the muscles of Anderson's stomach.

The sobs turned into screams and as blood began to pour over Levi's hands, each cut came easier than the last.

Anderson broke faster than Levi'd expected and once he was done speaking, Michael wordlessly handed Levi a gun.

Levi looked at the gun like he'd never seen one before in his life.

"But you said—" even as Levi said it, he felt the naivete creeping in.

"I know what I said. End it."

"But—"

Michael snapped. He slammed the gun into Levi's hand, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and shoved him forward. "Do it, Agent," he snarled.

With blood still smeared across Levi's shirt, his pants, and his hands, he looked Anderson in the eye and pulled the trigger.

—————

Levi, Jordan, Patrick, and Alice all stood at attention, backs straight and chins up.

Command stalked in front of them, his hands clasped behind his back, watching them with narrowed eyes. Michael leaned against the wall behind Command with his arms crossed over his chest, looking more bored than anything else.

"Patroclus."

Shit.

"Michael told me what happened on your last assignment," Command went on conversationally. He paused, his dark eyes drilling into Levi's before walking away to stalk down the line again. "Did you find the assignment too ... challenging?"

"No, sir, I—"

"Too violent?"

"No, sir—"

"Then why—" Command snapped, turning on his heel to glare once again at Levi and make his way back over. Out of the corner of his eye, Levi could see Jordan's jaw clench. "—did you hesitate to pull the trigger?"

"Sir, I thought the conditions were—"

Command barked out a laugh. "Conditions? I thought I taught you better than that, boy." Out of nowhere, there was a gun in Command's hand and he fired off two shots. There was a searing pain in Levi's side and thigh. He gasped and stumbled backward, but Command was there and he fisted a hand in Levi's shirt before he could fall.

Beside him, Patrick, Jordan, and Alice still stood at perfect attention, but Levi could see the way Patrick's hands were trembling.

"Conditions mean nothing." Command's voice was quiet in his ear. "There are no conditions here. You do the job cleanly or you don't do it at all. There are no loose ends. You have to know when to pull the trigger." 

He sighed and leaned back as if it pained him. He brought a hand to the side of Levi's face and the gentle touch was in sharp contrast to the pain radiating from Levi's leg, his side. "Son, there is nothing I want to see more than for you to succeed, but if you pull something like this again the consequences will be more severe than a couple of flesh wounds."

Levi's jaw clenched and he nodded once. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Command whisked away and stalked down the line once again like nothing had happened. "I'm glad we see eye to eye. You're dismissed. Oh, and you should probably get someone to look at those wounds, Agent Patroclus."

—————

Levi couldn't remember the last time he wasn't in pain. He'd been in the Heracles Project for ... what, two years? Three? It had all blended together into a blur of fighting and training and blood. So much blood.

Which brought him to now, bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of Michael, waiting for the older agent to make the first move. He did, but Levi could see it coming and he ducked out of the way, landing a blow of his own before blocking one of Michael's.

The fight dragged on and the look on Michael's face went from cocky to shocked. See, Levi had spent a lot of time in the past few years doing hand-to-hand with a whole spread of people and he'd learned that everyone, everyone, had a tell.

And he'd found Michael's.

Before long, he had Michael pinned to the ground and he put up a valiant struggle before he slumped and tapped out. Levi got back to his feet and offered Michael a hand.

He took it and nodded once at Levi. "Nice fight, kid," he muttered before walking away.

Command was a few paces away and leaning against a stack of mats. He smiled and walked over, settling a steady hand on Levi's shoulder.

"Good job, son."

Levi's heart soared. Three words that flooded him with more joy than Christmas morning.

Levi smiled back and there was a glint of something sharp in his eyes.

Agent Patroclus was just getting started.

#| task #| task 003 #coda.task #this is technically more than one scene but #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #this also got uhhhh really dark

[scottish-purple-shrubbery]

Long Way From Home

Part 2

Part 1

Krolia paced back and forth inside the small building, the creature watching her with a worried frown plastered on his face. He’d objected to her getting up but she’d snarled at him and he’d fallen silent. He wasn’t wrong, her side was still hurting but she’d long since learned to ignore pain.

Running her claws through her hair she finally looked over at him. “Where am I? What do you call your plant?”

“We call it Earth, I’m not sure if you have a different name for it,” the creature told her, his frown not leaving his face.

She nodded absently, “So are you an Earthling then?”

He barked a laugh, “Ha, no. We call ourselves humans; and my name is Steven Kogane.”

Krolia narrowed her eyes and regarded him for a moment. Lifting her chin slightly she offered, “Krolia of the Galra.” Although it wasn’t necessarily a lie she disliked naming herself as such; it left a foul taste on her tongue but she didn’t trust this… human enough to get him involved in the war. A war that (if he was lucky) might never come to his doorstep.

Unaware of her turmoil the man - Steven - smiled, “Nice to meet you Krolia.”

She did her best to share the smile of greeting but it quickly fell and worry started to ebb back in.

She didn’t know if Steven noticed this but he jumped up, “So, you’ve been out for a long time; are you hungry?”

Krolia’s eyes widened, how long was long? Was it a couple of Vargas? A Quintent? Regardless of the exact time It made sense, despite of her bravado when it came to her injury it would need a fair amount of time to heal. Also the ache in her stomach told her she hadn’t eaten in a while.

When she nodded he grinned and walked to the doorway; pushing aside the flap as he went, “Alright, good. I don’t have too much in the way of food but we can deal ‘till I can go and buy more. That is, if you eat the same amount as a human.”

Following him she lifted the flap and took in the small room around her, there was a small kitchen on one side and a table next to it. On the far side of the room was a heavy door that she assumed led outside. “I wouldn’t know,” she offered then followed him to the kitchen.

“Right,” he chuckled then started to rummage in the cupboards on the wall. “Well how about eggs and bacon for now?”

“I have no idea what that is.” She told him flatly drawing a nervous laugh from him. That made them fall into silence until he was placing a dish in front of her. She poked at it then followed his example when he used the same type of utensil he’d given her to lift the food into his mouth. It was only after he’d swallowed that she actually ate any.

She was chewing and swallowed when he asked, “Is it good?” his eyes shown with a kind of nervous worry and she realized that she was intimidating the shorter creature. Well she couldn’t blame him too much, he’d never seen a galra before. However knowing this she took a closer look at him. He had a rugged square jaw and and a mess of floppy brown hair reaching down to his shoulders. However what grabbed her attention was a scarring scab cutting through his eyebrow.

Pausing she pointed her fork at him, “Did I do that?”

Startled he blinked at her then nodded sheepishly, “I probably shouldn’t’ve snuck up on you.”

“No you should not have.” She agreed then forked some ‘egg’ into her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she like it, the odd food was getting stuck in her pointed teeth.

She was just cleaning her fangs with her tongue when she paused, “What did you do with my ship?”

Looking up at her he grinned, “Ya don’t have to worry about it. I placed some tarps over it, no one will find it.”

She regarded him for a moment then nodded, “How far away from it are we?”

He tilted his head at her then his lips parted in shock, “You’re not going out to it right now. You had a six inch blade in your stomach!”

“Side.” She specified.

“Same diff,” he snapped and continued, “I have no idea what your physiology is like but for a human your lucky to be alive; it took me a couple of hours after taking it out to get you stable. If you push yourself now…” he trailed off and glared at her.

She didn’t need him to continue, she had her own fears regarding that outcome. She didn’t answer him and forked more food into her mouth. Once she swallowed she continued, “I just want to know where it is. I know that my wound will keep me from it for the time being.”

Slowly she lifted her eyes back up to him and hit her smile when she saw him soften. Although his eyes were still hard with warning as he informed her, “It's about a three hours drive from here. You literally landed in the middle of nowhere.”

Krolia was glad that she’d gotten her answer but something new was bothering her. “Whats a hour?”

Steven paused and looked up at her. Confusion spun around in his eyes, “An hour is 60 minutes.”

That did nothing more to ease her confusion. Seeing this on her face he launched into an explanation of time on his world. The sun was starting to set by the time that she rubbed her temples and clarified, “So a Quintaint is a Day?”

“Roughly. A day is one revolution of the planet. Which is 24 hours. Roughly. It’s actually 23 hours, 56 minutes, 4 seconds.”

“That’s oddly specific,” she informed him dryly.

She was granted a rueful smirk, “Had to learn it for a school project.”

Krolia snorted and looked out at the sky, “So it will take three... hours to get back to my ship.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes but you’re in no shape to go out and look at it. I promise no one will find it. The only other people in the area are the Galaxy Garrison. It's a fairly new program so they won’t be able to find anything.”

Worry suddenly grabbing her she narrowed her eyes at her rescuer, “Galaxy Garrison?”

He waved dismissively, “The military recently decided that they wanted to explore space more than we already have. The garrison is to train young people on piloting and how to survive in space.”

“They want to enter the universe?” she asked, her face palling.

Steven looked up at her and regarded her more closely. “You think that’s a bad idea.”

She disregarded his question and inquired, “How far are they along in their efforts?” She ignored how her not answering him was about the same as giving him one.

Obviously he thought so too and raised a brow at him. Putting down his fork he leaned back in his chair. “What's out there?”

Krolia bristled and pressed her lips into a line. They regarded each other for a moment, his eyes steady. She saw as his gaze traveled down her muscular frame and to the sharp ends of her claws. She knew that he was assessing her and now wondering if she was as threat to his planet. If he thought that way he wasn’t wrong; the Galra could destroy everything humanity knew. However with her being a Blade member she was far from it. She just needed to convince him.

Krolia stared back at him, her eyes not leaving him; giving him the chance to decide for himself. Being a spy she knew patience, it was instrumental. That and lying through your teeth although she hoped that she didn’t need to use that particular skill too often when in this creatures company.

Thankfully Steven soon broke it by answering her question. “We have a couple of shuttles that have gone to Mars; the closest planet to Earth,” he added when she raised a brow.

“But it’s barren,” she muttered, “Do you posses terraforming technology?”

“Uh, no.” He blinked then he asked distractedly, “How do you know that?”

She shrugged, “I scanned every planet in your solar system to find which one would support me.”

“You got that it was barren from just a short scan?” He looked at her in awe, “Just how advanced is your race?”

Krolia stiffened and looked away, “There are many races out there but yes, the Galra are quite advanced.” By stealing off of others, she added silently.

A playful grin crossed the man’s face, “What else is it like?”

Clearly Steven wouldn’t stop till she’d given him something of the space outside of his world. She chewed on her lip for a moment then offered, “Its vast. There are thousand of planets out there with almost as many races and cultures.”

His grin spread and he leaned forwards but cut off when she covered a yawn. He blinked then smiled gently. “You should get your rest; your body needs to heal.”

She nodded in agreement and didn’t object when he led her back to the cot she’d been sleeping on. Once there he helped her sit down, keeping his face blank when she hissed involuntarily. She grimaced at the pain shooting up her torso then leaned back against the shack walls.

After a moment he sat beside her and grabbed a gauze roll from the table. Glancing at her he looked apologetic, “I need to re-apply your bandages.”

She stiffened then after a moment she shifted so he could access her side. He hesitated for a moment then started to unravel what he’d done earlier. He took away the blood soaked cloth and regarded the stitched wound. He was quickly and practiced with his movements as he cleaned the angry red gash. His only reaction to her injury was to hiss in sympathy then begin to smear a healing cream on it.

Steven was careful though to watch her, his eyes flicking up constantly to make sure that he wasn’t hurting her. Which he was, but she refused to let him know this. She just stared back at him with disinterest, so he kept working in silence.

Finally he applied the last bit of tape to the linen. He sighed and sat back, “There, now you can rest.”

She grumbled her understanding and carefully laid down as he got up. He glanced back at her as he reached the doorway, “Holler if you need anything.”

Done with talking and starting to feel the weariness of healing Krolia just grunted and watched him leave. It was only after he’d left that she allowed her eyes to close. It took moments for her to fall asleep.

#long way from home #krolia #voltron krolia #how krolia met keith's father #keith's mother #My writing