#except he floats instead of bounces probably

[heartfullofleeches]

Just a random ramble about Cholly. (Also couldn't remember the pronouns so I stuck with He/They since I think I remember those being used but I apologize if it's incorrect!)

My brain is filled with Cholly for some reason and I just imagine them wearing the goofiest halloween costumes. Like the classic ones but having a silly gag. Vampire costume would probably involve them being caught having "blood" on his mouth but he pulls out tomato juice. Frankenstein (I know thats the doctor but for simplicity sake I'm calling the monster that) costume would be normal except he shocks himself with electricity. Unlike Frankenstein however, he shows that skeleton and black border cartoons use as he is zapped. Although his body is a mystery with how they can contort themself so those bones are just for show I'm pretty sure. Ghost costumes would definitely result in him being able to float while wearing it. Like it's just a white sheet over their head but when you pull it off he stays hovering in the air for a second but looks down and falls upon realization he can't fly. I feel like a mummy costume would just be him using toilet paper to wrap up people. He may wear it and then spin it off and wrap another person with it OR instead just pull it out and wrap others. Idk my brain is rotting and I think of the stuff cartoon logic can be applied to and Cholly just fills my brain perfectly.

Sorry if I bothered you with this! Just wanted to ramble a bit about Cholly :D

Never apologize when it comes to rambling about Cholly. I wholeheartedly advocate for more. You don't understand how much I love this goofy toon and would ramble about them daily if I didn't feel I was dumping too much about them at one time. They are so bby girl and such a delight to write for. (For future reference Cholly literally does not care about what pronouns are used for them as they are simply Cholly) For the Ghost costume I could see them doing a gag of drinking "poison" (maybe paint thinner?) and actually "dying" to become a ghost. (They'll be fine so no worries). Still throws on the sheet to spook their darling when the time comes. Probably throws it over their shadow instead and stands behind Reader, transparent and floating a couple inches off the ground. Uses their new abilities to peep on them before missing being able to touch Reader and hoping back in their old skin. - "Whatcha think of my new look?" It's certainly a look. Not the most original, but still quite cute. The trace of the rabbit's pointy ears stick out like a sore thumb from the sheet they wore. You could already imagine their cheeky grin, and the twinkle in their eyes hidden behind those big black circles cut through the blanket. You couldn't wait to see it. "Looking great, Cholly- just one little thing." The Ghost tilts their head, cloth bunching up just enough for you to make a grab at it with zero issue. "What's that?" "I already miss your pretty face." Lunging for the sheet, you yank it off their head in one fell swoop. Your speed surprises even you which boils to confusion as the dust settles. They aren't there. You've seen a number tricks from the colorful character, but there was always some trace of their presence life behind. You look to your right, then your left. "Cholly?" "Still right behind ya, Doll." You spin on your heels. It takes a minute for your eyes to pull away from the blank wall behind you and instead train on the head poking through it. Cholly waves, elbow propped on thin air and hand rested beneath their chin. Watching the quickness of your chest increase, their smile grows. "Hiya, Gorgeous~" You scream. Cholly snickers, eyes shut with the violent bounce of their shoulders. They let a surprise, elated gasp as their eyes widen beneath the see through lense of their kids. "Wow! I can see you even with my eyelids closed! Ghost life just keeps getting better and better." You march over to them, reaching out only to touch solid wall. "Are... are you...?" "Dead?" Cholly scoffs. "Pfft- Course not!.. I mean I am a ghost, but it's a toon thing. I can change back whenever I want to." You let out a sigh of relief. "Good..." "By the way.... If you ever need a hand in the shower, I could lean two. Missed a couple spots while you were in there earlier." "Cholly!" "Think I hear the stove runnin'. Better go catch. Catch ya later, Gorgeous." Bringing their hands up to the sides of your face, you feel the ghostly imprint of their lips upon yours. Only downside to their new form was they couldn't kiss you with the intensity and passion brew inside them whenever in your company. They wink as your brain redirects from the sweet gesture back to the topic of their little peeping session, and fazes out through the wall before you had the chance to chew them out.

#Toon yan #yandere #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #Cholly my oc #soft yandere

[foreveranevilregal]

Encantober Day 26: Lost

Antonio was having a wonderful day. Out of everyone in the family, he probably missed his gift the most. For the others, it was a break from all their duties. Even tía Julieta and Luisa, who loved helping others more than anyone else, were kind of relieved to have some rest. But Antonio didn’t have those kinds of responsibilities. His gift was just…cool. So when the gifts returned, he was thrilled and determined to make the most of it.

He went around town, making conversation with all the animals he saw. Which probably looked weird, but…eh. The town had seen weirder things than a boy talking to some chickens. He stayed up late talking to all the animals in his room. His mamá hadn’t been too happy about that when she saw how tired he was in the morning, so he had to promise not to stay up late on school nights anymore. Most of all, he explored.

During their late-night conversations, his animals had told him about some really cool places in the encanto that Antonio hadn’t known about. Apparently there was a jungle where his animals liked to go play? This jungle had all kinds of cool plants and animals inside it, and little pools where the capybaras liked to hang out. Naturally, Antonio wanted to see this awesome place, so the animals obliged, taking him with them.

He’d ridden into the jungle on Parce’s back, since apparently the ground was covered in poisonous plants. The thought made him a little nervous, but he was still more excited about the prospect of discovering new places than scared. Isabela might like some of those plants though. She’d gotten more creative after their gifts came back and started making more interesting plants, not just boring flowers anymore. Antonio called out to some tapirs he passed by as he bounced through the jungle, asking them if they could bring some of these plants back to Isabela. After some protests on their part, saying the plants tasted yucky and they didn’t want to eat them (to which Antonio responded that they didn’t have to eat the plants, just bring some back to Isabela), they finally agreed.

The jungle was just as cool as the animals promised. Light shined through the branches, dappling the ground with patches of sunlight in the half-dim darkness. He saw vividly colored flowers growing on vines which snaked around enormous trees. All kinds of fruit hung overhead, looking juicy and inviting. Antonio really wanted to try it, but he saw the animals avoiding it, and he figured it probably wasn’t safe for him to eat either.

Instead, he swung through the trees on some vines, helped along by a group of monkeys. He whooped gleefully as they glided through the trees, accompanied by the screeching monkeys. Once he grew tired of that, some of the other animals brought him to one of the little pools they’d been talking about.

Boy, had they been right about the pools! The water felt so cool and refreshing after all the swinging that had left him feeling sweaty. He sank into the water, savoring the way it washed over him. When he got bored of that, he started swimming around. Camilo had taught him how. Well…Camilo had given him the chance to learn. That was a better way to put it. Camilo had thrown him into the river, thinking Antonio would catch on right away, but he didn’t until some of the aquatic animals came over and taught him how to swim.

Antonio enjoyed the rest of the afternoon in the pool, swimming and relaxing, surrounded by animals. A couple capybaras floated by lazily (tired of swimming, Antonio guessed). Some tapir snouts stuck out from the water as well, serving as snorkels for the animals hanging out underwater. Antonio had been pleasantly surprised to learn how many of his animal friends enjoyed the water too. They enjoyed it together for a while. He couldn’t really say how long. All he knew was that the light falling through the trees had started waning.

With a sigh, he got out of the pool and dried off. Time to head back. Except, he realized as he turned in a circle, he had no idea where to go.

“How do I get back home?” He wondered aloud. He turned back to face the animals, which had also exited the pool. “A little help, guys?”

A toucan swooped overhead, squawking.

“It might be the fastest way, but that doesn’t help, since I can’t fly,” Antonio pointed out. “But you could carry me over the trees?”

The toucan perched on a branch, squawking more insistently.

“What do you mean, I’m too heavy to carry? Get some of your friends to help!”

The remaining toucans took off, abandoning their friend, who gave a few defensive squawks.

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” Antonio asked shrewdly.

He could’ve sworn the toucan shrugged before flapping his wings and leaving as well.

Sighing, Antonio turned to the tapirs next. “Can you guys help me?”

The tapir in the front grunted at him.

“It smells confusing? What does that even mean?” Antonio tilted his head in confusion.

A series of grunts followed, seemingly to elaborate.

“Oh, come on, the smell can’t have changed that much since we got here!” Antonio protested.

The tapirs just stared at him blankly.

“Well how are you going to get home then, huh?” Antonio challenged.

More grunting.

“You’re happy right here?” Antonio rolled his eyes. “Can anyone help me?” He cried out, frustrated.

Parce nudged him with his snout, purring. He lay down on the ground expectantly.

“Thanks, Parce.” Antonio hugged the jaguar and climbed onto his back. “Let’s go!”

They rode through the jungle together, practically flying through the trees. Antonio was happy about that since it was getting dark fast. Their surroundings blurred past them until they finally reached the edge of the jungle. Out here, it was still pretty light out.

Parce came to a stop, sitting down to let Antonio slide off his back. He snarled contentedly.

“Thanks, Parce.” Antonio hugged him again. From here, he could see the path that led back to town and could make his way home. Wait a minute… He squinted, trying to make out what he was seeing. Was that… a donkey?

Another donkey followed, trotting towards Antonio without a care in the world. Soon, half a dozen donkeys gathered, just walking down the path. When they saw Parce, they froze, eyeing him warily.

“He’s not going to hurt you guys,” Antonio promised, then turned to stare at the jaguar. “Right, Parce?”

The jaguar shrugged sheepishly.

“What are you guys doing all the way out here?” Antonio questioned. “You should be back home.” He stopped his lecturing when he heard shouting in the distance, growing louder as the voice got closer.

“There you are,” Luisa huffed, placing her hands on her knees. “I’ve been chasing you down all over town.” Taking a moment to compose herself, she began hoisting donkeys on her shoulders. “Oh, hey, Antonio,” she added as an afterthought, having just seen him. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’ve been asking your donkeys the same question.” He crossed his arms, the gesture adorable on his tiny stature. “I’m out here because I was exploring the jungle with my animals.” Upon seeing Luisa’s mouth open to protest, he reassured her, “It’s okay, they kept me safe.”

Luisa nodded, groaning as the weight of the donkeys settled onto her shoulders.

“As for the donkeys…they say they’re bored. They ran away because they were tired of being cooped up in that little enclosure all day.”

Luisa’s face grew red from the exertion of carrying the donkeys.

“Why don’t you put them down?” Antonio suggested.

“They’ll, run away,” Luisa grunted out, buckling slightly under the weight.

“I can guide them.” Antonio shrugged. “I can talk to animals, remember? I’ll make sure they stay in line.”

Luisa appeared skeptical.

“It makes more sense than you having to carry them,” Antonio noted.

Luisa must have realized he had a point. She dropped the donkeys back on the ground, rubbing her shoulders and wincing. “Thanks, Antonio. I’m so tired of carrying those stupid donkeys around.”

“It’s kind of silly that people are still asking you to do that when they know I can talk to animals and can just guide them home.”

“People are used to asking me for help.” Luisa shrugged. “Plus I was around.”

“Oh…” Antonio felt bad for leaving when his family still had things to do.

“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, little primo.” Luisa scooped him up and slung him on her shoulders, making him giggle. “We don’t have to be around to help all the time.”

“That goes for you too,” Antonio reminded her. He took in the view. Luisa was so tall. It was amazing how much more he could see from up here.

“You’ve been hanging out with Mirabel, haven’t you?” Luisa teased, bouncing him on her shoulders, then wincing. “Ooh, that hurt…maybe I should put you down.”

“Good idea,” Antonio agreed. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his prima. “Let’s go home. Come on,” he addressed the donkeys huddled to the side. “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of exercise walking home.”

The donkeys looked confused, but seemed to accept their fate.

Luisa’s mouth dropped in shock. “They’re complaining about lack of exercise?” She asked incredulously. “Because they can start helping me lug heavy stuff around town if they need some exercise.”

Suddenly, the donkeys looked every way but at the two of them. One dared to bray in protest.

“Yeah, you’re not getting out of it.” Antonio patted the donkey on the flank. “You’ll be getting all the exercise you want.”

He and Luisa shared a hearty laugh as they walked home with the donkeys.

#encanto #antonio madrigal #luisa madrigal #encantober #encantober 2023 #lost #antonio and luisa #writing encanto #foreveranevilregal writes #yes i know encantober is over #i was busy okay #i'm gonna finish the prompts out of sheer spite #also all the animal facts are true btw #i looked them up

[dreamtinblackandwhite]

Hi lovey. I saw u post writing prompt and ur free to take this as an idea or a request but can we have "You mumble in your sleep, you know, it's quite fascinating." for robert pattinson’s role as monte from high life or bruce wayne if u’d prefer? there hasn’t been any fics of his role as daddy monte its criminal 😢

how have I never noticed there is nothing for Monte! well, now there's a little something :) thank you SO MUCH for reaching out!

Our Daughter

pairings: Robert Pattinson!Monte x Mom!Reader

background, in case you have seen or heard of High Life: Monte (Robert Pattinson's character) is among a group of criminals who depart on a space mission to collect scientific data. There is a doctor onboard (Dibs) who is obsessed with using the men on the ship to get the woman pregnant. However, every baby (and eventually every adult) die from radiation poisoning, leaving only Monte and the baby Dibs created from his sample (Willow) alone. Basically the entire ship is sex crazed except for Monte - it's a crazy movie, y'all.

Warnings: fluff, a few swear words, little bit of angst, mention of implied sexual encounters, mention of drug use, like two sentences of implied nudity, pretty sure that is all!

word count: 2430

You sat in the main operation room watching Monte’s viewpoint while he worked to repair a damaged hull section. Willow babbled in your lap, tugging at your hair occasionally. “Dada!” She giggled over and over again with the goofiest grin while watching the images in front of her.

“That’s dada!” You agreed, laughing softly as you bounced the baby on your knee.

“Hi Willow,” Monte sang through the speakers between his soft grunts as he worked. “Alright, all quiet,” he grumbled softly as he started to do the more precise work. You turned Willow from the screen and started to make silly faces at her, trying to get her to just giggle instead of call her for her dad.

It worked… sort-of. She giggled at you, but continued babbling ‘dada’ over and over again. Hearing Monte chuckle warmed your heart; you couldn’t deny how happy he seemed to be a dad, even considering the pending death they were facing. “I’m here, honey,” he reassured in a soft voice as Willow continued to babble for him.

“I knew I should have pushed ‘mama’ harder,” you joked in a quiet voice, scrunching your nose at the small child in front of you. Monte said nothing, he often avoided talking about Willow’s parentage – even though you were both subjected to similar experiments by Dibs. You knew it was because you weren’t really Willow’s mother. No, you were never one of Dibs ‘successes’ and each child you bore for her died from the radiation.

You barely registered Monte’s calm voice trying to calm the babbling baby while you were distracted by thoughts of what you lived through just months ago. It wasn’t until Willow was suddenly screaming and flailing in your arms that you were pulled back to the present. “Shit,” you mumbled, standing up and gently rocking Willow in your arms trying to shush her.

“Ah,” Monte winced sharply at the high-pitched sound that probably could have blown his ear drum through the mic in his suit. “Damnit, Y/N,” he groaned as he flinched back and hit a wrench off the edge of the station, watching as it floated away towards nothingness.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed as Willow finally settled in your arms after you distracted her with the makeshift doll she loved. Monte simply grunted in response before collecting the repair kit back together and making his way inside.

You and Monte didn’t speak much, there wasn’t much of a need anymore. You simply co-existed for Willow, she was your only connection. It was easy to adopt the routine Dibs laid out for the crew into this strange new life of just three. Every day was the same array of chores, passing Willow back and forth depending on who was working on what.

You made sure to always eat together; breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It was something Monte had insisted upon when you finally accepted that the radiation would not bring the last three of death. This surprised you, but you didn’t argue it. You’d sit in silence, taking turns feeding Willow, and trying to enjoy her youth in this steel, grey life you were stuck in.

Today was no different, now that Monte was done with his repairs and he’d sent the system required message back to Earth so our water would run (even though it would be hundreds of years before anyone would hear it). He walked into the main operation room and swiftly pulled Willow from your arms, ignoring your pained sigh as he did.

“We’re going to dump the bodies,” he informed, looking at you hesitantly.

“That’s probably a good idea, best to shut off any system that we don’t need…” you trailed off, picking up the clutter of garbage that Willow would grow up to think are toys. The images from Earth clicked through on the screen, catching both of your attention for a few silent seconds.

“Do you regret coming?” Monte whispered slightly, as if he was afraid of your answer.

You shook your head, running a nervous hand through your hair. “I wouldn’t call it regret – I would have died if I stayed on Earth.” You tossed some of the objects into the makeshift play area at the center of the room, “but, who knows, maybe that would have been better than this.”

“I read your file,” he admitted next. You nodded, this didn’t surprise you – if Dibs had left the command chip to you, you would have read his.

“I know,” you replied with a shrug. Monte knelt down and let Willow support her weight with only three of his fingers as she tried to stumble walk towards you. You knelt to the same level and held your hand out to encourage her.

“You didn’t deserve to come here – everyone else; murders, rapists, sex-traffickers…” he avoided your eyes and focused on Willow trying to stumble back towards him now.

“It kept me clean,” you defended the decision you made a lifetime ago to come here. “I tried so many times back on Earth, but I’d always end up with the same people and I’d always end up half-dead in rehab.” You hugged Willow close to my chest as she exploded into a giggling mess after falling into your arms; she quickly recovered and turned to stumble back towards Monte – this was her favorite game, and Monte and you could do it for hours on end.

Monte’s eyes jumped between your face and Willow’s, trying to decide if he wanted to open up to you finally about himself and his own past that brought him to this station. “Come to dada, honey!” He encouraged, smiling at Willow now. She stumbled towards him and took his fingers before fidgeting to look at you again.

“M…” she started, your eyes went wide as you held your hand out to her. Monte froze looking down at his daughter. “Mmmaaahh mmmah!” She squealed, stumbling towards you. You laughed and engulfed her in a hug, tears stinging in your eyes; had she just tried to say mama for the first time?

“I should tend to the fields,” Monte quickly mumbled as he stood up, feeling his heart drop into his stomach.

“Monte,” you breathed, standing up with her. “I’m raising her too.” He kept his back towards you, only tossing a dismissive glance over his shoulder. You could see the troubled and pained look on his face and wished to know why this hurt him so much – wasn’t it better that you were here? Would he have preferred you died with the rest?

“You aren’t her mother,” his voice was barely above a whisper. He couldn’t will it any louder without risking painful cracks in his throat seeping through.

Monte prepared the same dry mixture of potatoes and nutritional powder from the ration closet for the three of you to eat for dinner. He knocked on the wall outside of the living quarters where you and Willow had floated to and you were telling her a story. “Dinner bell,” he grunted as you looked up at him from the stiff mattress.

He didn’t wait for you to prompt him in and moved to sit next to you, handing you a bowl. You silently ate your food, taking turns feeding Willow small spoonful’s. “You weren’t the only one who went through hell for Willow to be here,” you whispered, tears stinging at your eyes again. “I know you hate me; I know I will never be Boyse; I know you wish I died with the rest of them. But you need to accept that I love Willow just as much as you do.”

“I don’t hate you,” Monte’s head snapped to you with a pained look in his eyes. “It’s the opposite, don’t you see? I’m so happy you’re here; I would hate to be doing this alone.” He squished a potato cube against the side of his bowl and gently scooped the mash into Willow’s waiting mouth. “Someday, Willow will you need you more than me – that’s what hurts so much.”

“She won’t, Monte, she will always need you. Take it for a daddy’s girl myself – you never stop needing your dad,” you frown, looking at the food in your bowl and feeling like you could throw up at any point from the blandness.

“If we aren’t all dead by then,” Monte joked, a small grin on his face. You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter at the sight of his small smile. You leaned your head on his shoulder while releasing a deep breath. “Sometimes I wish you were her mother,” he whispered his confession into your hair; you swear you felt his lips brush against you as if he were kissing your head. You knew it was a confession meant to remain unacknowledged so you said nothing - though you felt the same no matter how guilty that made you.

You continued to eat silently, both of you finally allowing the familiar comfort of company to wrap around this strange family of three. Monte eventually took Willow to do a medical check up while you readied the room for sleep. You tried to ignore the feeling in your chest. You had worked so hard over the past 8 months to stomp down those feelings that had appeared just from being alone with Monte; and now, after his admission that he was happy you were here (no matter how stubborn he still seemed) those feelings were raging forward fast.

“You watch her while I dump the bodies?” Monte asked as he came back into the room. You gasped slightly and covered yourself with your arms, the clothes you were changing into sprawled across the mattress in front of you. “Please, nothing I haven’t seen before,” Monte chuckled dryly.

“That was when we were being pumped full of aphrodisiac’s and sedatives all day long,” you rolled your eyes at him. “This time, I’m stone cold sober, Daddy Monte. Turn around,” your ordered with a smirk. He blushed and laughed softly at your mockery but obeyed and faced his back towards you. You quickly slip the shirt onto your body before walking towards him and tracing your fingers across his bicep as you reached for Willow.

Hey, you were going to be alone together on this ship for a life-time… what’s wrong with some innocent teasing between co-parents? Your smirk and teasing glance weren’t lost on Monte, he shared the smirk as the nearly passed out baby in his arms desperately reached for you. “Brat,” he scoffed before leaning closer to give you better access to your daughter.

“You know it,” you giggled softly, rocking Willow against your chest and beginning to hum a soft melody to her. You paced about the small room, giving Monte a look to say it was okay for him to leave the two of you.

It was a rule that if one of you were doing anything in the suits or near the airlock that your mics had to be on and broadcasted to the entire station. Just because you were trying to put Willow to sleep didn’t change that, Monte knew as he released the air supply to each suspended body bag that you’d hear all of it. He tried to keep quiet regardless, listening to the hums you were showering your daughter in.

After you ensured Willow was asleep in your arms, you gently laid down and held her close to the curve of your body. Eventually, you allowed your heavy eyes to close and fell asleep listening to Monte’s strained grunts.

Monte made his way back to your quarters, it was a nightly tradition at this point. You always sang Willow to sleep and would, more often than not, fall asleep holding her. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame, examining the sleeping faces of the two girls he’d fallen in love with so unexpectedly. He moved to sit on the cot on the other side of the room from you, listening to the soft mumbles that escaped your lips.

Every now and then he’d be able to interpret a word or two and had a mental log of your most frequented. If you were having a nightmare, which happened most nights, you whispered no, stop, run, it hurts, please. Each night he’d hear you pleading with these dark things that plagued your mind, he’d need to restrain himself from going to you. It was like every molecule in his body needed to comfort you.

But there were good nights: Willow baby, kitten, iced tea, mama, papa. “Monte,” you whispered, causing each of his muscles to tighten. He examined the lazy smile on your face and only after making sure you were still asleep, he relaxed with a smile of his own. This one was his favorite: his name. The first time he heard it was when he was forced to accept that he had fallen in love with you, and maybe you had too.

He laid down, listening to your incoherent babbling and the tiny snore of his daughter. He felt as relaxed now as he did before his childhood went to shit back on Earth.

Willow’s sharp cries forced your eyes to shoot open after only a few hours of sleep. You quickly sat up and pulled her into your chest again, rocking your shoulders as you yawned and tried to wake yourself up enough to comfort her. “Monte?” You asked as your blurred vision started to clear to see Monte sitting up in the cot across from you.

“Uh-“ he stuttered, looking down embarrassed. “Sorry, didn’t want to be alone… I guess.” You offered a small smile and a nod as Willow started to calm down in your embrace.

“You can always sleep in here with us,” you reassure. “I’m sure Willow can sense when we’re both near, she probably would like it.”

Monte chuckled softly and nodded, slipping his shirt off and handing it off to you. “Here,” he smiled at you. “Maybe the warmth will help her stay asleep longer.” You smiled and took it, sliding it onto Willow before laying back down. Monte knelt in front of your cot and gently swiped his thumb across Willow’s forehead.

“You mumble in your sleep, you know,” he whispered, his eyes connecting with yours. “It’s quite fascinating.” Your gulped slightly as a blush took over your cheeks as you noticed how close your faces were. “Maybe our daughter will get that from her mama,” he added. Pride filled him when he saw the smile creep across your face.

#monte #high life #robert pattinson x yn #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson au #battinson #battinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson imagine #monte x reader #request #writing prompt #ask

[aroaceacacia]

hi! you dont have to answer this but i'm thinking of getting into lifesteal and i mean. considering my experience with the dsmp i don't know how well i would do having to watch 2 hour vods? so uh. i guess i'm just asking for a guide to be able to Steal the Life or whatever it is lifesteal fans do. stan planetlord I Think?

YIPPEE !!!!!

fun thing is you dont have 2 watch anything to just jump in! but if u want to heres a playlist of videos from season 3 and a much shorter playlist of videos from season 4 (the current, ongoing season). parrot also has some official playlists floating around somewhere for seasons 1 and 2. pick whatever strikes your fancy to watch!

if you want specific recommendations on my personal favorite s3 videos, heres my s3 highlights (which I havent updated in a while, & theres probably a few finales deserving of going on there).

if long VODs arent your thing but youd like to stay somewhat up to date with stream events, baconnwaffles0 is your go to guy! he takes a lot of inspiration from streamers like Ludwig & goes into each of his lifesteal streams with a Concept and a Plan for making into a video later. as a result hes gotten 12 second channel videos out of his season 4 escapades, very much a good short encapsulation of his season so far. (parrot also does this but parrot hasnt streamed super recently so his videos dont really reflect current events the way bacon's do.)

the streams are very much fun and will often give better insight into events as they happen - which is why makign sure they're preserved and saved is important - but streams are 100% not necessary to follow what happens, because lifesteal members explain everything important to you in narration. ls videos are very much designed to be accessible to any random person who might click on it and watch, so they will say nearly the same spiel about the hearts plugin every time, they'll describe their besties as just "my friend" instead of using proper nouns, give basic exposition of what side/team is which, etc. they want all of their videos to be able to do well independently of one another & that ideally any one of them could grab a new person! (they're algorithm bitches u know how it is)

... however if you DO want to watch livestreams, here are my recomendations:

princezam (twitch.tv/princezamlive)! zam is one of the most frequent streamers on the server & is I think the most accessible to newcomers. super funny & instantly endearing. we love printer!! i REALLY recommend his season 3 videos, especially "how I lost my empire"!

pangi is also up there (twitch.tv/pangilive) 👍 pangi is great, very funny guy, streams a ton - he'll be out until december tho bc hes currently recovering from a surgery! pangi is deceptively unassuming - man got the maximum number of hearts he could on the first day of season 4 and has refused to budge from that position since.

baconnwaffles0 (twitch.tv/baconnwaffles0) is teamed with planetlord and they're a frequent visitor in his streams, so if youd like to check out planet you're more likely to find him there than at their own twitch (twitch.tv/planetlord_) - but bacon and planet bounce off of each other super well. some of my favorite s4 streams have just been bacon, planet, and their teammate yeahjaron doing silly things, like making an exotic pets shop or reenacting the extinction event that killed the dinosaurs.

tl;dr in terms of "what homework do I need to do here to catch up", it's less like dream smp and more like hermitcraft. start wherever watch whatever nothing matters except that u have fun. fuck it we ball

#asks #lifesteal smp #if anyone else has a better hook/advice feel free 2 share #also like... theres a group of ppl here in lifestealblr that watch streams (love seeing rhe besties in chats) #fun fact. subz is tied with zam for most s4 streams but i cannot in good conscience recommend itzsubz streams to Any newcomer.

[cboffshore]

So what direction is OSSAS going in with the next installment, now that we've seen Nya power struggle with Nadakhan via seagulls and chess? 👀

I'm going to answer this one under the cut just in case someone who sees this hasn't read it yet (in which case: GO! that is a prerequisite for this course! get outta here! and leave me comments, dammit!), but I know that doesn't include you. You've been enrolled in the honors course.

The big thing right now is that plans are super fluid. I'm in the very loose brainstorm stage, which means I wake up at 3 am, jot something bizarre down in my ideas server, and then interpret in the morning and hope it works. Everything I'm about to say is subject to change, but with that being said, here's what #5 looks like now.

Timeline: We're jumping straight to episode 64, post-wedding. This is one of the few things that are pretty much non-negotiable. We know the buildup, the sword handoff, Nya's manipulation - I don't need to rehash that. Dan and Kevin did that for us. Instead, I've got the mother of all blank spaces to fill once Delara takes up residence in Nya's body.

Remember that line in IICT(OSC) where Nadakhan tells Nya he thinks that her being unconscious for the rest of her life would probably be preferable to having to endure his presence? Whether or not making sure she's comfortable is a genuine desire of his (spoiler: it's not. the possession is just him shoving her to the back of the storage closet so he doesn't have to deal with her shit. who'da thunk it?"), he's going to fuck it up, bad. This is partially because I've determined and highlighted that he is shit at checking his own work (source: the fact that anyone remembers Skybound at all, especially the floating temple! and I know there's that line in the ceremony, but that never happened, so, like... HUH????) and partially because, if I made it actually work as intended, #5 would just be like those Twilight chapters where Meyer represents a bunch of months with blank pages. (I've never read Twilight, but I've heard great things about that technique. It's not something I can get away with.) In other words: boring. I've always believed strongly in the importance of the Idiot Ball in any story, and this is no exception. Nadakhan once again has plenty of hands free to catch it.

Which, of course, means Nya's gotta be conscious for this, and as is par for the OSSAS course, pissed. Nadakhan's actually right that being unconscious would be an upgrade in this case (too obtuse to realize that and realize what a self-dig that is, yeesh). So: we've got a pissed off soul bouncing around while Delara takes her body for a test drive. That's a workable setting. What are we going to do with that?

WE ARE NOT going to insinuate any spicy activity between Delara and Nadakhan. This is also non-negotiable. I've seen that a handful of times in fics that bother to even acknowledge what's going on with Nya (and I can count those on, like, two fingers), and it's big-time DISGUSTANG. I don't think one can both rail against Nadakhan being a creep and then endorse those versions of the story... I'll move on before my ears start shooting out steam.

First off: you know my stance on SA in Skybound stuff. I'm sure as hell not writing it. Second, I genuinely don't think that's on Nadakhan's mind, and to act like it is cheapens his character. For my sake and his, I'm trying to work from the interpretation that he is both of the following:

This specific tattoo - that is, too enamored with the fact that holy shit he pulled it off to do anything but marvel while that goofy love theme from The LEGO Movie plays and everyone's hair does the slow-mo romantic swivel:

2. Too tied up in his own self-doubt to really give a shit about that. The single most frustrating and interesting sequence in the finale to me is the part where he badgers Delara about if she forgives and/or still loves him for what he's done. He can barely believe she's here, let alone that she forgives him! I'm not a fan of the idea that he can balance that shock and disbelief with Enthusiastic Adult Activities. I'm also hoping to keep going with that brief angle I mentioned where Nadakhan's got two names for that face now, and I don't think that could reconcile very well. Nope, sorry, dude! Pathetic Wet Chihuahua time for you. Nonexistent pants stay on. Nobody needs to see your legs.

Nya's had enough shit happen to her - even by my relatively clean standards! I'm not doing that. Also, I don't know how much I want to rehash the death scene, although maybe I'll change my mind and continue the trend of building on the glimpses from Small Cuts.

Here are some options for what I might do (again, all subject to change, just some general ideas I've tossed around):

Let Nya witness not quite the beginning of the possession. Wakes up five minutes in, realizes what's happening... major introspection opportunity, really. And you know I love introspection.

Have Nya give Delara a migraine just because. Like, an actual migraine, or maybe just a nasty thunderclap headache. If Nya can't operate her body solo, nobody can. This could also be her causing other types of chaos - maybe she tightens Delara's grip on Nadakhan's hook and he flinches. Because of the chess aftermath, of course. Or some such chaos - little tweaks, like she's reaching in from the backseat and futzing with the radio and the AC and the hand brake.

Pull Nya's soul out of her body entirely and just let her wander around and witness different parts of the finale. Maybe she's on the deck when Flintlocke gets his aim back. Maybe she's the reason that loose locker with the venom in it turns up - maybe she drags it out after Clancee stashes it to help the team find it faster. Maybe the only reason Jay manages to pick her up is because Nya bum-rushes Delara, shoves her out of the driver's seat, and then stops in her tracks just long enough to let Jay yeet her across the lawn. (Remember: the scream sound effect they use in that scene is Nya's!)

But who's to say, really?

Thanks for the ask!

#lila speaks #ossas tag #abc tag

[natashaspointeshoes]

Ultraviolence

(Not my gif!)

A/N: ….let’s pretend that I didn’t take a giant hiatus and not write for months on end…. K? K.

Bonsoir every1 !!! I’m so happy to be back writing and super excited to publish my first fic !! I’m going to attempt to post 1 chapter a week but will see how that goes lol. Anyways, I hope u enjoy my newest baby, ‘Ultraviolence” !!

Premise: Your a psychiatrist for the Avengers focusing on PTSD and trauma rehabilitation. When Thor’s estranged brother gets sentenced to live on earth till Odin sees fit, you find yourself attempting to help Loki.

Pairing: Loki x OC, (Nadezhda Novikov)

Warnings: none rlly for this chapter :)

(NOT PROOF READ)

Word count: 1.5k

Translations: none.

I do not give anyone permission to translate or

repost my work, please be respectful - if you

enjoyed please comment or reblog!!

Chapter 1 : The introduction

————————————————————————

"Mornin dez" Stark entered the compound's kitchen, immediately heading for the coffee pot as you drank out of your own cup.

"Good morning Anthony." You said irritatedly. Anthony always found a way to rub you the wrong way. No matter what is was, he always pissed you off. Maybe it was the whole big brother little sister relationship you two always had, or just both your sarcastic personalities bouncing off of each other.

"Dez !" Natasha, Your big sister, said running up to you with her wide, pearly, smile. You smiled giving her a big hug in return. One grumpy Yelena followed behind, snatching Anthony's fresh cup of coffee right out of his hand with a smile.

After escaping the red room, you dedicated your time to gaining your psychology degree and fighting crime with the fellow avengers. You had 'superpowers' yourself, probably the only reason you were an avenger in the first place. You acted as a team therapist, as well as specializing in trauma recovery. Today you began to help the dreaded assignment, or at least that's what everyone told you it would be like. You had never met Loki Laufeyson, but you were about to.

"You almost ready?" You snapped out of your trance, watching Fury walk through the door. Him, Anthony, Thor, and Bruce would be helping and supervising you throughout the project.

Loki had been commanded to stay on earth under the avengers custody until Odin, deemed it fit for him to return to his homeland. Thor visited daily, mostly coming back torqued after some argument they had.

"Mhm," you said, gulping the last bit of coffee you had left, grabbing your books, notepad, and pen.

As they all accompanied you down the eerily unoccupied hall; zero words were exchanged as you finally made it to the gods chambers.

Anthony pushed ahead of you all. After swiping a keycard, using his hand print, AND a retinal scan, the door let out a loud series of clicks. He quickly moved out of the way as Thor took lead, pushing the door open walking in unbothered. Anthony and fury followed, you being last in line. As you entered the room, Loki sat chained to an interrogation table. You sighed at the overprotective security. You had once been in his shoes, except instead of trying to take over a whole city you tried to assassinate the whole team.

This occurred right after you were freed from Dreykov's custody. You failed to believe your sisters were your sisters, and that the avengers had saved you. As you held your own sister cornered against the wall, she said your name. Not your number, not your code. She humanized you. For the first time in your life you heard your given name aloud.

"Does he really have to be chained to the table?" Your accent thick, shocking the man sitting across the table. Anthony rolled his eyes and laughed.

"While we're in here? Uh, yeah. When we leave do whatever floats your boat. Just remember I'm not cleaning up your bloody corpse." You rolled your eyes sitting at the seat already pulled out for you.

"Who's this?" Loki looked over at the three men. Anthony had already started to leave, done with the situation at hand.

"She's a—a friend, who wants to help you.." Thor stuttered out, clearly not good at coming up with something on the spot. Nick rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms impatiently.

Fury was hesitant to even entertain your idea of treating; or at least attempting to treat Laufeyson. He was a full case file waiting to be closed. Another relic in Shield's database.

"I've got it from here, I'll let you know when I want out." You laughed, ushering them along.

As the door clicked shut, you brought your hands out and allowed the magic to flow through your palms and to the cuffs.

"I'm letting you out. And remember these hands aren't just for unlocking cuffs." You smiled as he rolled his wrists, rubbing the faint lines they left with his opposite hand.

"So are you going to tell me what you are?" He snarked. You laughed under your breath, opening your note pad.

"I'm one of them, but I'm also a psychiatrist." You looked up from the yellow pages, staring right into his eyes. His face contorted through plenty emotions, before settling on one. Anger.

"I don't need a fucking psychiatrist." He spat through gritted teeth, anticipating you to be upset.

But you stayed content.

"No, but I'm sure I can help." You shrugged, continuing to remain eye contact. He rolled his eyes and stayed silent.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Your brows furrowed, keeping that contact as you clicked your pen.

"I have a feeling your going to ask them anyways." He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

"Mhm!" You hummed enthusiastically, purely to piss him off.

"So, I have your file here, at least what we were able to obtain from your brother-"

"Adoptive, brother." He cut you off.

"Adoptive, brother," you sighed. "Is there anything you'd like to share before we go through your history?" Quite monotonously said.

"I'll correct you as we go." He replied slouching back in his seat.

After about an hour of back and forth about what Thor had said and Lokis take on it, you finally had your notepad full. But, you hadn't got to current events just yet. You could feel his knee bouncing faster and faster as you neared the present.

"If you wish to stop at anytime please tell me. The only way I can truly help you is if your honest with me, and trust me." You hadn't even bothered bringing Odin up; despite the fact he's the source of it all.

He rolled his eyes and sat upright.

"I don't need your pity." He sneered once more.

"What makes you think it's pity?" You cocked your head, putting your pen down.

"It's all anyone offers. Pity or hatred. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It's empathy, Loki. And to be fair the hatred is well deserved, you came into these peoples planet, their home, and tried to take over." You took a pause. "But it can be forgiven."

"Do you truly think I'm stupid enough to fall for the fake ideology that 'all can be forgiven?' I am a god you dull Midgardian. I cannot, and WILL not be forgiven for my actions, and I could give two shits if they did." Your eyes widened a bit at the speech, but without fail you had a comeback.

"No, not everyone will forgive you. That is impossible. And something all of us have to cope with. We are not perfect, god or human. And we also have to accept that. I think that's something we should work on; as well as this feeling that you don't deserve forgiveness." You said rather calmly for just being called a dull Midgardian.

He said nothing in response, concluding your session. As you took a peep at your watch realizing it had been about an hour, you flipped you notepad shut, and raised you hand to put his back in cuffs.

"Someone will escort you to your room in a few minutes. I look forward to working with you, Loki." You smiled at him. He frowned, more confused than anything.

As you made your way around stark tower, you arrived at the conference room you were supposed to meet at after the appointment.

"Agent Novikov," Fury greeted you. Anthony gave a nod and Thor gave a smile. A moment of silence passed as you settled into your office chair at the table, cracking open your notes.

"So, how'd it go with reindeer games?" Stark finally broke the silence. His hands intertwined, resting on the glass table top.

You sighed, briefly looking at your notes.

"I have reason to believe he has significant trauma, mostly surrounding his upbringing and parentage. As well as a suicide attempt, that led to his run in with Chitauri. Possibly anger issues, more or likely stemming from childhood. Other than that I've seen worse cases; he's not a lost cause." Your brows furrowed as you glanced over your notes quickly again.

"So, what's your course of action?" Fury questioned.

"Therapy, socialization, possibly medication? Not quite sure about that though; I do think he should be socialized with the team, treated as if he's not a threat. That would be good for him."

"Woah woah there, slow your roll, he is a threat. And I'm not sure it's a good idea to have him outside of his cage until we're sure he's improving." Stark intervened. You nodded in agreement.

"Of course. But as soon as I'm sure he's improving, I'd like to further discuss socialization with the team." You agreed, standing up with your note pad and pen clutched to your chest.

Thor gave you a thanks on your way out, as you made it back to the common room where Natasha was waiting for the news.

#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson #loki x you #marvel #loki (marvel) #ldr #lana stan #ultraviolence #mcu #mcu fanfic #marvel fanfiction

[diorsirenskkn]

Ultraviolence ~ loki l.

Chapter One

Desc: You’re a psychiatrist for the Avengers focusing on PTSD and trauma rehabilitation. When Thor's estranged brother gets sentenced to live on earth till Odin sees fit, you find yourself with the job of helping Loki.

————— ୨୧ —————

"Mornin dez" Stark entered the compound's kitchen, immediately heading for the coffee pot as you drank out of your own cup.

"Good morning Anthony." You said irritatedly. Anthony always found a way to rub you the wrong way. No matter what is was, he always pissed you off. Maybe it was the whole big brother little sister relationship you two always had, or just both your sarcastic personalities bouncing off of each other.

"Dez !" Natasha, Your big sister, said running up to you with her wide, pearly, smile. You smiled giving her a big hug in return. One grumpy Yelena followed behind, snatching Anthony's fresh cup of coffee right out of his hand with a smile.

After escaping the red room, you dedicated your time to gaining your psychology degree and fighting crime with the fellow avengers. You had 'superpowers' yourself, probably the only reason you were an avenger in the first place. You acted as a team therapist, as well as specializing in trauma recovery. Today you began to help the dreaded assignment, or at least that's what everyone told you it would be like. You had never met Loki Laufeyson, but you were about to.

"You almost ready?" You snapped out of your trance, watching Fury walk through the door. Him, Anthony, Thor, and Bruce would be helping and supervising you throughout the project.

Loki had been commanded to stay on earth under the avengers custody until Odin, deemed it fit for him to return to his homeland. Thor visited daily, mostly coming back torqued after some argument they had.

"Mhm," you said, gulping the last bit of coffee you had left, grabbing your books, notepad, and pen.

As they all accompanied you down the eerily unoccupied hall; zero words were exchanged as you finally made it to the gods chambers.

Anthony pushed ahead of you all. After swiping a keycard, using his hand print, AND a retinal scan, the door let out a loud series of clicks. He quickly moved out of the way as Thor took lead, pushing the door open walking in unbothered. Anthony and fury followed, you being last in line. As you entered the room, Loki sat chained to an interrogation table. You sighed at the seemingly overprotective security. You had once been in his shoes, except instead of trying to take over a whole city you tried to assassinate the whole team.

This occurred right after you were freed from Dreykov's custody. You failed to believe your sisters were your sisters, and that the avengers had saved you. As you held your own sister cornered against the wall, she said your name. Not your number, not your code. She humanized you. For the first time in your life you heard your given name aloud.

"Does he really have to be chained to the table?" Your accent thick, shocking the man sitting across the table. Anthony rolled his eyes and laughed.

"While we're in here? Uh, yeah. When we leave do whatever floats your boat. Just remember I'm not cleaning up your bloody corpse." You rolled your eyes sitting at the seat already pulled out for you.

"Who's this?" Loki looked over at the three men. Anthony had already started to leave, done with the situation at hand.

"She's a—a friend, who wants to help you.." Thor stuttered out, clearly not good at coming up with something on the spot. Nick rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms impatiently.

Fury was hesitant to even entertain your idea of treating; or at least attempting to treat Laufeyson. He was a full case file waiting to be closed. Another relic in Shield's database.

"I've got it from here, I'll let you know when I want out." You laughed, ushering them along.

As the door clicked shut, you brought your hands out and allowed the magic to flow through your palms and to the cuffs.

"I'm letting you out. And remember these hands aren't just for unlocking cuffs." You smiled as he rolled his wrists, rubbing the faint lines they left with his opposite hand.

"So are you going to tell me what you are?" He snarked. You laughed under your breath, opening your note pad.

"I'm one of them, but I'm also a psychiatrist." You looked up from the yellow pages, staring right into his eyes. His face contorted through plenty emotions, before settling on one. Anger.

"I don't need a fucking psychiatrist." He spat through gritted teeth, anticipating you to be upset.

But you stayed content.

"No, but I'm sure I can help." You shrugged, continuing to remain eye contact. He rolled his eyes and stayed silent.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" Your brows furrowed, keeping that contact as you clicked your pen.

"I have a feeling your going to ask them anyways." He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

You ignored that, letting a sigh escape from your lips.

"So, I have your file here, at least what we were able to obtain from your brother-"

"Adoptive, brother." He cut you off.

"Adoptive, brother," you sighed. "Is there anything you'd like to share before we go through your history?" Quite monotonously said.

"I'll correct you as we go." He replied slouching back in his seat.

After about an hour of back and forth about what Thor had said and Lokis take on it, you finally had your notepad full. But, you hadn't got to current events just yet. You could feel his knee bouncing faster and faster as you neared the present.

"If you wish to stop at anytime please tell me. The only way I can truly help you is if your honest with me, and trust me." You hadn't even bothered bringing Odin up; despite the fact he's the source of it all.

He rolled his eyes and sat upright. 

"I don't need your pity." He sneered once more.

"What makes you think it's pity?" You cocked your head, putting your pen down.

"It's all anyone offers. Pity or hatred. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It's empathy, Loki. And to be fair the hatred is well deserved, you came into these peoples planet, their home, and tried to take over." You took a pause. "But it can be forgiven."

"Do you truly think I'm stupid enough to fall for the fake ideology that 'all can be forgiven?' I am a god you dull Midgardian. I cannot, and WILL not be forgiven for my actions, and I could give two shits if they did." Your eyes widened a bit at the speech, but without fail you had a comeback.

"No, not everyone will forgive you. That is impossible. And something all of us have to cope with. We are not perfect, god or human. And we also have to accept that. I think that's something we should work on; as well as this feeling that you don't deserve forgiveness." You said rather calmly for just being called a dull Midgardian.

He said nothing in response, concluding your session. As you took a peep at your watch realizing it had been about an hour, you flipped you notepad shut, and raised you hand to put his back in cuffs.

"Someone will escort you to your room in a few minutes. I look forward to working with you, Loki." You smiled at him. He frowned, more confused than anything.

As you made your way around stark tower, you arrived at the conference room you were supposed to meet at after the appointment.

"Agent Novikov," Fury greeted you. Anthony gave a nod and Thor gave a smile. A moment of silence passed as you settled into your office chair at the table, cracking open your notes.

"So, how'd it go with reindeer games?" Stark finally broke the silence. His hands intertwined, resting on the glass table top.

You sighed, briefly looking at your notes.

"I have reason to believe he has significant trauma, mostly surrounding his upbringing and parentage. As well as a suicide attempt, that led to his run in with Chitauri. Possibly anger issues, more or likely stemming from childhood. Other than that I've seen worse cases; he's not a lost cause." Your brows furrowed as you glanced over your notes quickly again.

"So, what's your course of action?" Fury questioned.

"Therapy, socialization, possibly medication? Not quite sure about that though; I do think he should be socialized with the team, treated as if he's not a threat. That would be good for him."

"Woah woah there, slow your roll, he is a threat. And I'm not sure it's a good idea to have him outside of his cage until we're sure he's improving." Stark intervened. You nodded in agreement.

"Of course. But as soon as I'm sure he's improving, I'd like to further discuss socialization with the team." You agreed, standing up with your note pad and pen clutched to your chest.

#tom hiddelston loki #loki #loki layfeson #loki fic #the avengers #marvel #avengers #thor #black widow #natasha romanov #yelena belova #tony stark #thor odinson #fanfic #fan fiction

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 129

Reid hummed a jaunty tune as he strolled towards the farmhouse that he and Dittany looked after. His long ponytail swayed back and forth to the bounce in his step. The newly brought rapier for Dorothea tucked under his arm brought a smile to Reid’s face. The children were so cute while debating which sword they should choose for their friend. They were such nice friends.

They would make a good adventuring party one day if the children wanted to go that route, he couldn’t help but think to himself.

“I’m home!” he announced as he toed off his shoes and began to look for a place to store the sword until the Choosing Ball.

“We’re in the kitchen dear, please tell Dittany he’s fretting too much!” Tasa’s melodic voice floated from said room.

“Fretting?” Reid questioned aloud as he decided to put the rapier into the sitting room.

After all, it only needed to be there for a few days, and he doubted Dorothea would visit anytime soon. He wandered into the kitchen to see Tasa. She took a long sip of her tea and nodded towards Dittany who was face down on the table. Papers were scattered across the table, some containing lists and others containing notes about training.

“Dittany?” Reid questioned as he reached towards Dittany’s messy ponytail.

Clearly the man had been tugging on his hair again. He hooked a finger underneath the leather hair tie and gently pulled it out. Dittany shifted his face so his cheek was on the table instead and he could talk.

“I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m terrified of messing up.”

“Hmmm…” Reid hummed in agreement as he began to braid Dittany’s hair, “It has been centuries since you’ve taught another Blood Hunter so that’s to be expected, but I remember Tasa making you write it down all your old traditions so you’d have something to look back on, in memory of course.”

“Except she skipped several steps,” Dittany mumbled, “She’s a fourteen year old with Blood Hunter powers. A fourteen year old who talked with me earlier and tried to assure me that this apprenticeship is not a mistake.”

“And?” Reid paused in his braiding.

There was a pause, and Dittany looked honestly pained. Like someone had ripped his guts out, sort of pain.

“She gave me the biggest smile and told me she was already practicing Celestial and the sword forms that Gleam showed her,” he then turned his face back into the table and groaned, “This is a mistake.”

Tasa gave Reid a lost look, she had no idea what to say to this. Reid looked back at Tasa before looking at Dittany and sighed.

He continued to braid once more once the braid was done he took a seat beside Dittany and murmured, “I understand why she’s excited. This venture is her choice, not her mother’s choice, but hers and hers alone, and that’s exciting to a child.”

“And completely ignores the fact that Blood Hunters by design are self destructive individuals who tear themselves open to hunt dangerous creatures,” Dittany’s voice was muffled by the wood as he said this.

“She’s fourteen, what did you expect?” Tasa pointed out, “Fourteen year olds aren’t exactly… bastions of reasonable thinking. Honestly I don’t even know why we require students to choose a specialty at fifteen.”

“Eighteen was probably no better,” Dittany admitted, referring to when he started his full apprenticeship as a Blood Hunter, “But the point is, she does not see the seriousness of this. She only sees it like she sees her wizarding studies.”

Reid was quiet, he could understand why that bothered Dittany. Dittany, both as a child raised by the order and later a mentor for the order, lived and breathed those traditions that gave meaning to the self-destructive behaviour Blood Hunters were known for. They were designed to make the way they used their magic easier to handle, and offered a constant reminder of what they gave up as Blood Hunters. Those traditions were important to Dittany.

“Well…” Reid finally spoke up, “Then the only answer is to make sure she knows those traditions, so she doesn’t just see them as another study.”

“Should I get her a Hunter’s capelet then?” Tasa asked the men, “Oooo you should wear your arm sleeves again. I know you don’t while you teach, but if you’re going to do this, you might as well be proper about it.”

“I thought we were keeping the Blood Hunter aspect below wind,” Dittany finally looked up from the table.

Tasa gave Dittany a look, “Honestly, who in the nine hells is going to know Blood Hunter traditions? Dorothea needs new workout clothes anyways. I’ll provide them! It’ll be a gift from me.”

“And I can gather the ingredients used for the marking,” Reid began and waved Dittany off when he began to get up and protest, “Dorothea normally wears long sleeve dresses, no one is going to notice unless they’re very observant. Besides, it’ll be nice to use it for its intended purpose instead of doodling on each other.”

Dittany stared at the two, as if he couldn’t believe what they were suggesting.

“In fact, for those lessons, have the other children come along,” Tasa added, “These aren’t just lessons about being a Blood Hunter, they are a history that shouldn’t be forgotten anyways. You’re not going to get a chance to pass along your history like this again Dittany. I get you don’t like the fact there is no real choice in this, but you might as well make the best of it, and make sure they’re not forgotten.”

“Beyond just House Eutis,” Reid amended, “Just try, and through that, maybe she’ll understand the seriousness of what she’s getting into.”

Besides, Reid thought, those traditions will hopefully ease any future regrets that Dorothea may experience when she gets older. She was, after all, only fourteen years old.

#Chimera Academy #Chimera Intrudes #More behind the scenes #posting on my lunch

[isabellafoster13]

Chapter Five: The Rescue

WARNING: TORTURE!

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

The mages of Fairy Tail sat within their guild, drinking, laughing, and talking. It was a strangely calm day for the destructive guild. Perhaps it was because several Sabertooth mages and Crime Sorciere were visiting. Jellal and his friends had decided to drop by before they went off to continue fighting dark guilds. Sting had decided that the perfect way to celebrate his miraculous freedom from paperwork was to drag Rogue, Rufus, Orga, and Minerva to Fairy Tail for the purpose of hanging out. 

All were calm. That is, all were calm except for three certain mages. Freed sat with Laxus, Evergreen, and Bixlow, his arms crossed over his chest and his leg bouncing as he glanced over at the guild's doors every minute. It had been a full week since Lucy left. He wasn't upset that she had missed their lunch date. Instead, he was worried. Mira had told him that the blonde was going to Poppy Town on a job with Yukino and Sorano. Poppy Town was only an hour away and since there were three of them, they should've been finished by now. So, where was Lucy?

Worry bubbled in his gut as he struggled to calm the distressing thoughts that ran through his mind. His usually logical brain was jumping to the worst of conclusions like how Natsu jumps into fights. He tried to tell himself that he was being ridiculous. That Lucy was a more than capable mage and could take care of herself on a job. He tried to tell himself that she was fine. But, was she? He couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had run into trouble and was in danger. 

Freed looked over at his closest friends. They were talking with each other, seeming to not notice his worrying. His sea-green gaze moved to the first floor of the guildhall. His eyes roamed over the mages, trying to find at least one other person that noticed the strangely long absence of Fairy Tail's Light. 

He didn't see anything out of the ordinary with his guildmates. As the green-haired man was distracted, he felt someone tapping on his shoulder. Freed looked to his side, seeing Laxus staring at him with a raised eyebrow. The dragon slayer asked, "are you okay, Freed?"

The rune mage looked down at the table he was sitting at. He furrowed his brow as he answered, "Lucy should be back by now, don't you think?"

He kept his eyes on the table, listening as Laxus answered, "I guess a week is a bit long for her." 

Evergreen then spoke up, "she went with two Sabers. I agree that they should be back by now." 

Bixlow suggested, "they could be staying in Poppy Town to shop, or something else that women do." His babies echoed the word "women" as they floated around the small group.

Freed nodded. It sounded reasonable. Evergreen responded, "for a week? Not even I shop for that long."

As the small group continued to debate if Lucy's absence should be cause for worry, Rufus looked around the guildhall, searching for a certain celestial wizard. The only reason he had allowed Sting to drag him to Fairy Tail was so he could finish what he had started and ask Lucy on a date like he was trying to do before Yukino dragged her away. 

However, the blonde woman wasn't present. He looked over at Natsu, who was having an argument with Sting. The memory-make mage tapped on the pink-haired man's shoulder, getting his attention. He then asked, "I would like to inquire as to where Lucy is."

Natsu stared at him blankly, probably trying to figure out what he was asking. The dragon slayer then suddenly exclaimed, "oh! You're asking where Luce is! She went on a job with Yukino and Sorano!" 

Rufus nodded and Natsu returned to his argument with Sting. He looked over at the guildhall's doors as if Lucy would just burst through them at that moment. He guessed that he'd have to wait for her to return to ask her out. As he stared at the entrance to Fairy Tail, he remembered when she had visited Sabertooth and he flirted with her before trying to ask her on a date. The memory of the lovely blush on her radiant face made Rufus smile to himself and he felt a bit of heat creep onto his cheeks. He wondered how much he could make Lucy blush. Would kissing her have the same effect? He frankly couldn't wait to find out. 

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard a feminine voice coo right next to him, "what's got you blushing, Rufus?" 

The blonde man jumped in his seat and snapped his head around to look behind him, seeing Fairy Tail barmaid standing there, her hands clasped in front of her and an innocent smile on her face. The white-haired woman inquired, "are you thinking about a certain woman or man that has your heart?"

Rufus felt the faint heat on his cheeks increase, the accompanying blush growing from a light pink to a redder shade. He looked away from the older woman and tilted his hat downward slightly, a failed effort to hide his blush. He had heard about the so-called "Matchmaking Demon" from Fairy Tail and didn't want any part of whatever plot she was already coming up with. 

Mira leaned closer to him and sang, "who is it? I would love to help you woo this person!"

Rufus gently pushed her away, dismissing, "would you kindly mind your business? I do not need any assistance with anything." 

Mira laughed lightly before she responded, "if you say so! Don't forget, I'm always happy to help!" She then strode away, most likely to continue serving her guildmates. Rufus looked back at the guild's doors. He wondered when Lucy would return. He hoped that he wouldn't have to wait too long. 

As Rufus stared at the pair of wooden doors, Midnight sat alone at a corner table. He stared around at the loud mages, his red eyes searching for the celestial wizard that has strangely caught his attention. Since his previous encounter with Lucy, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. He couldn't figure out why. What was so appealing about her?

He would admit, the blonde woman was gorgeous, intelligent, kind, and seemed to easily draw people to her. The former dark mage has found himself being allured by her, wanting to be near her whenever he saw her and getting this rotten feeling in his gut every time he saw a man get close to her. 

Why was he feeling this way? Why did Lucy incite such feelings in him when nobody else has ever done the same? Was it that he just really wanted to be her friend? Could that be it? Midnight sighed. He needed to get over this want to get closer to her soon. How could he become her friend after everything that he had done to her? How could she forgive him? What right did he have to become her friend? 

The young man looked around the guildhall. A feeling of guilt settled in his gut. Maybe he could make it up to her. Maybe if he redeemed himself to her, then he would finally feel like he was free of his previous wrongdoings. 

Midnight was sad to find that Lucy wasn't in the guild. Or, at least, he didn't see her anywhere. Could she be avoiding him? That thought made his mood sink further. He couldn't blame her if that were the case, considering what he had done to her. Could she be afraid of him? He didn't want her to be scared of him. He wanted to be close to her. He wanted to know that she had forgiven him. He wanted to redeem himself to her. The others didn't seem to matter to him, just Lucy. Why? He couldn't figure it out. 

The two-tone-haired man looked down at his lap. He couldn't figure out what he wanted to do. Stay away from Lucy and save her the torture of having to be near him or try to atone for everything he had done to her and befriend her? Which was better for him to do? He wasn't sure. 

As Freed, Rufus, and Midnight were deep in their thoughts that centered around a single blonde celestial wizard, the guildhall's doors slammed open, causing all of the occupants to look over in surprise. Leaning against the doorway and panting heavily was one of Lucy's celestial spirits, Aries. The pink-haired spirit looked up at the mages, tears threatening to spill from her eyes, and announced in a distressed tone, "Lucy, Yukino, and Angel have been captured!" Many of the present mages promptly began panicking, with several others trying to calm everyone down. 

As Laxus, Evergreen, and Bixlow stared down at Aries in shock, Freed jumped up from his seat and hopped over the railing, landing smoothly on his feet. He joined Natsu, Gray, and Erza in demanding to know what happened from the panicking celestial spirit. 

Rufus stared down at the table he sitting at. His mind was reeling at this information. Lucy, Yukino, and Sorano were captured by dark mages. A feeling of fear and dread filled his gut as his mind wandered to the possibilities of what the three women could be going through. He had to help save them. 

Midnight watched the scene before him with widened eyes. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes and his mind went blank. He was frozen to where he sat. Lucy and Sorano were in trouble? He had to rescue them, but why couldn't he move? His brain seemed to stop functioning and his body was frozen. What happened to him? This has never happened before. Fairy Tail went into chaos as the former dark mage remained unmoving, his brain not even creating worst-case scenarios. He was simply frozen. 

Lucy groaned from where she hung from the ceiling. She was strung up from her wrists by chains, hanging in the air within a cell. Across from her was a closed, barred cell door. Through it, she could see an unconscious Yukino, hanging from the ceiling in the same way that she was. There were two other cells, both of which were occupied. 

The battered blonde tried to move as little as possible, not wanting to make the pain she was already in increase. She was sure that she was a bloody mess. She had been tortured continuously since their capture. She involuntarily shivered, causing her to groan from the pain. She was drenched in blood, her body covered in slashes and burn marks, while her clothing was completely gone, leaving her once unblemished body naked for all to see. 

She hung her head, remembering their first day in these cells: 

Lucy jolted awake on a cold and dirty, stone floor. She sat up with a groan, rubbing her head in a failed attempt to ease the dull pain. She gazed around her, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Once doing so, she took in her surroundings. She was inside what looked like a prison cell, the barred door closed tightly. There was no window, only the door offered any exit. She crawled over to the bars of the cell's entrance and pulled herself up by them. Once on her feet, the blonde looked into the cell across from her, gasping when she saw Yukino, still laying on her side. 

Lucy called to her friend, "Yukino! Yukino, wake up!" 

No response came from the light blue-haired woman. Just as she was about to call out for Sorano to make sure she was present and unharmed, the older woman from the cell beside hers spoke up with concern, "Lucy! Are you alright?"

The blonde answered, "yes, I'm fine! How about you?" 

Sorano responded, "I have a bit of a headache, but other than that, I'm alright!" 

A third voice then joined them, "Lucy? Is that you?" 

Lucy looked over at the cell next to Yukino's, watching as another young woman walked over to the bars of the door. She gasped at who she saw. 

Queen Hisui! 

What was she doing here? Shouldn't she be at her castle? Lucy looked over the queen, relieved to see that she was unharmed, albeit a little scuffed up from what was probably a struggle. The blonde questioned, "what are you doing here?" 

Hisui shook her head, answering, "I'm not quite sure. I was visiting some friends when I was suddenly ambushed by a group of dark mages. They managed to take out all of my guards and my celestial spirits. I woke up here before you and Sorano."

Lucy looked down at her feet. She could understand why she, Yukino, and Sorano were captured, but why Hisui? Why take three mages hostage when you already have a queen? She looked over at the green-haired woman and asked, "do you have any idea why we are here?" 

Hisui shook her head while Sorano offered, "ransom, maybe?" 

Lucy's grip on the bars in front of her tightened slightly. She looked down at the floor as she voiced her thoughts, "why would they ransom three regular mages when they have the queen?" 

Before anything also could be said, a groan came from Yukino's cell. Lucy and Sorano looked over to see the younger of the three sat up, dazed. Upon coming to her senses, Yukino jumped to her feet and rushed to the bars at the entrance to her cell. She quickly spotted Lucy and her sister, exclaiming with a relieved smile, "Lucy! Sorano! Are either of you hurt?"

Lucy shook her head as Sorano answered, "we're fine. The queen is here too." She pointed toward the cell next to Yukino's. 

Yukino pushed her face against the bars, straining to see into the other cell. When she couldn't, she instead called out, "are you really there, Hisui?"

The queen called back, "yes, I'm here." 

Yukino looked between Lucy and Sorano, questioning with a panicked look on her face, "why are we here?"

Sorano answered, "we have no idea."

Before anybody could say anything else, the sound of a heavy, metal door rang through the corridor that the cells lined. Footsteps followed as the four women waited in tense silence. The footsteps soon came to an end when a woman and two men came to a stop between Yukino's and Lucy's cells. 

The woman was tanned, dressed in a black, cropped tub top and baggy, camo pants, and black heels. Her pink hair was tied into a high ponytail that reached her mid-back with a black ribbon and had striking blue eyes. A brown belt was nestled around her hips, a brown pouch on it, presumably containing her keys. The man on her right had brown skin, his black hair was shoulder-length and styled into dreadlocks. His dark brown eyes looked almost black. His clothing consisted of no shirt, revealing a well-muscled abdomen, a dark blue trench coat, and baggy, black pants. He had no type of bag hanging from his black belt, making Lucy wonder where his keys were. Did he use requip magic like her? The man on the left of the woman had pale skin, and hip-length, blue hair that was tied into a low ponytail. His eyes were different colors, one purple and one pink. He wore a black tank top and brown jeans that seemed to hug his lower body snuggly. A black belt was wrapped around his hips, a drawstring bag was hanging from it.The woman was smirking smugly while the men's faces were blank. 

The woman took a step forward and pronounced, "Lucy Heartfilia, Yukino and Sorano Agria, and Queen Hisui. The only four remaining mages capable of  using Celestial Spirit Magic...besides us, of course." Her voice was high-pitched, sounding almost like a child. 

Hisui gripped the bars tightly, demanding, "why are we here?"

The woman chuckled. She snapped her fingers and the two men moved to Lucy's cell. They grabbed a struggling Lucy, quickly gagged her, and dragged her out of the cell. They disappeared through a large, metal door as the woman spoke, "well, first we are going to have some fun with you four. Then, we are going to take your keys so we can take over the Celestial Spirit World." 

As Yukino, Sorano, and Hisui yelled after the woman, she left through the aforementioned door, leaving the other three mages to despair. 

Lucy struggled in the metal chair that she was tied to. She had been brought by the two men to a room with a stone floor and stone walls, empty with the exception of the chair and a table of what she feared were torture devices laying on a long piece of cloth. 

She breathed heavily through her nose as she stopped struggling and looked around the room as best she could. Her heart was racing and she could feel beads of sweat rolling down her temples. She felt fear grip her heart, a feeling that she hadn't felt in a long time. She wasn't particularly scared for her own safety, just couldn't find the will to care, instead, she was scared for the safety of her three friends. She had to escape and help them. But how was she supposed to get herself out of here? 

Lucy was brought out her thoughts by the metal door across the room opening, dragging against the wooden floor loudly. She watched with a furrowed brow as the brown-skinned man walked into the room, his face blank, just like earlier. He stopped in front of her, his arms behind his back. He stared down at her for several silent moments before he reached forward and pulled the gag out of her mouth, letting it rest under her chin. 

Lucy demanded, "who are you? What's going on?"

The man's expression didn't change. He stared down at her for what felt like several hours before finally speaking, "I'm Nyx." 

Lucy's eyes widened slightly. She was surprised at the sound of his voice. He sounded young, like he was still a teenager. Now that she was able to get a good look at him in the dim light that was provided by the two closed windows, he looked like he was no older than sixteen. He looked like a kid. 

She soon got over her shock and repeated, "what's going on?"

Nyx walked over to the table as he spoke in an even tone, "we want to take over the Celestial Spirit World. In order to do that, we need all eighty-eight of the Celestial Spirit Gate Keys."

Lucy stared at him, watching as he looked over the torture devices on it. So, she, Yukino, and Hisui were captured because they were keyholders, the last ones except for Nyx and his two partners, apparently. Why capture Sorano though? Sure, she was a Celestial Spirit Mage, but not anymore. 

The blonde voiced her confusion, "why capture Sorano? She doesn't use Celestial Spirit Magic."

The young man didn't answer. He picked up a strip of cloth and made his way back over to Lucy. As the bound woman spoke, a hint of fear in her voice, "I don't understand."  When she noticed the blindfold, she questioned, no longer hiding the fear that began to fill her, "what are you going to do?" 

Nyx walked behind her and tied the blindfold around her head covering her eyes. Lucy was suddenly engulfed by darkness. She shook her head trying to make the blindfold slide from its place. She yelled at the young man, "what are you doing? What's going on?" She could feel herself beginning to panic. It was strange. She hadn't gone into a state of panic in so long that she had forgotten what it felt like. She tried to wrench her arms free of the thick ropes that bound them to the armrests. She felt a stinging pain in her wrists, telling her that the struggling she had been doing caused the self-inflicted cuts to open again. 

She froze when she felt Nyx grab her right hand, holding it in a way in which her fingers were outstretched. She muttered, "please, don't-" 

Before she could finish her plea, she felt one of her fingernails get pried off of the finger that it belonged to. She let out a short, pained scream before she bit her lip, almost drawing blood. The pain was excruciating. She bit her lip harder as the young man pulled another nail, and then another, until all five of her fingers were fingernail-less. 

Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked rapidly to make them go away. She refused to let him hear her scream or see her tears. Nyx soon moved to her other hand, ripping nail after nail, causing Lucy to bite her lip even more, her struggle to hold back the tears that welled up in her eyes becoming harder to do. She felt blood drip rapidly from her stripped nail beds, just as blood from her lip rolled down her chin and dripped onto her chest. 

She listened as Nyx walked away from her. Lucy's breathing came in shallow pants as she listened to Nyx's footsteps. They stopped for only a few moments before they began again, coming closer. She felt him grab the rope that tied her ankles together, lifting her bare feet onto an object that left them elevated. She involuntarily flexed her fingers, causing more pain to shoot through them. 

She hated not being able to see what was happening. She opened her mouth to speak when a sudden sharp pain shot through her feet, up her legs, and into the rest of her body. She let out a scream as Nyx continued to whip the bottoms of her feet with a blunt object, perhaps a cane or pipe. 

Lucy bit further into her lip, drawing more blood. Her fingernail-less fingers gripped the armrests painfully as tears slipped from under the blindfold and down her cheeks. She felt the skin on the bottoms of her feet break open and bleed. All she could hear was the sound of the blunt object hitting her now bleeding feet, and all she could feel was the pain that engulfed her body from the torture. The blonde tried to pull her feet away, but Nyx had a strong grip on them, managing to hold them in place and hit the arches and soles with great force. 

The beating eventually stopped and Nyx walked away once again, leaving Lucy in the chair, her fingers and the bottoms of her feet bleeding and throbbing with pain. Tears streamed down her face as she panted, struggling to contain herself. 

She had expected to be subjected to more torture, but was instead unblindfolded and dragged back to her cell. She was thrown onto the stone floor with a yelp. The blonde pushed herself into a sitting position with her bleeding and pained hands. Grimacing in the process, she crawled over to the bars at the entrance to her cell and looked through them at Hisui's and Yukino's cells. She gasped and cried more at what she saw. Hisui's was empty and Yukino lay on her side, her back to Lucy. The light blue-haired woman was shivering and covered in blood as she hugged herself. 

Lucy called to her, "Yukino!"

When the other celestial wizard didn't answer, Lucy looked in the direction of Sorano's cell, calling out, "Sorano? Are you there?" 

She received no answer. 

Lucy panted as she looked back at Yukino. She had to find a way to get her and her friends out. Either that, or try to hold out for rescue, but what was the likelihood of either happening? Was this how they would die? That thought raced around in her mind as the blonde felt her body go weak and lose consciousness. 

Over the course of an unknown amount of days, Lucy, Yukino, Sorano, and Hisui had been tortured for hours on end, the woman, apparently named Terra, and one of her right-hand men, named Lust, seemed to take sadistic pleasure in the act, while Nyx only tortured with a blank expression, seeming to not be enjoying it. 

Lucy had tried to appeal to the young man, hoping that maybe he could be swayed. However, no such luck. Nyx would simply become more aggressive with his torturing, causing Lucy to scream and cry, preventing her from talking to him. 

Her brown eyes shifted to the direction of the metal door upon hearing it open and footsteps follow. She lifted her head as much as she could and watched as Nyx opened her cell door and walk toward her. He unchained the blonde and carried her out of the cell, through the large, metal door, through a wide, dark hallway, and into a torture room. 

As Lucy was sat in the chair, she tried to struggle, managing to bring her hands up to push weakly against Nyx's chest. However, she was too weak to force him away from her. Her wrists were quickly tied down to the armrests and her hair was yanked on painfully, forcing her head to fall back, her face looking up at the ceiling. 

As she waited for the torture to start, she began to wonder. How long had they been there? Was help going to come? Did anybody notice that they were missing? Were they going to be killed soon? Lucy hadn't been able to find a way to escape, and she quickly became unable to even stand. Sorano, Hisui, and Yukino weren't in any better shape. Honestly, Lucy wasn't even sure if they were alive. The blonde woman was rapidly losing hope as time went on with no rescue or chance of escape. Now, she just wished that her captures would kill her so that she wouldn't have to suffer for much longer. But, she knew that death was a distant dream. 

Her vision was quickly covered by a piece of cloth that was being placed over her face. She hadn't had time to even question what was going to happen before a stream of water was poured over her face. Lucy's gag reflex kicked in and she began to cough and choke, trying to inhale some much-needed oxygen. She felt like she was drowning. The water was being poured over her nose and mouth. It took all of what little strength she had left to pull her arms and legs against her restraints. She wiggled as best she could, hoping that maybe she could get the piece of cloth to slide off of her face. She could feel herself losing consciousness as she experienced what it was like to drown. Her lungs burned due to the lack of oxygen.

Just as she felt herself slip out of consciousness, she heard the door open and Terra shout, "Nyx! We need to leave!" 

Lucy didn't hear Nyx answer as he stopped the water and rushed out of the room, leaving Lucy where she was. The celestial wizard allowed the darkness to consume her as she heard a man's voice call out to her, "Lucy! You're going to be okay!"

Midnight followed Aries through a forest in Poppy Town, making their way to the hideout of the dark mages that captured Lucy, Sorano, and Yukino. He had been chosen by Makarov to rescue the trio of mages. Also chosen were Minerva, Sting, Erik, Laxus, and Mira. Two other mages, a green-haired man and a blonde man, insisted on going as well, but Makarov had denied both of their requests, stating that if the group he had chosen needed backup then they will be sent in. Midnight was fine with that. He wanted to be the one that saved Lucy. He didn't need anybody trying to get in his way.

So, now the group was walking behind Lucy's celestial spirit, all itching to save their friends. He tried to not think about what the three women were going through, knowing the dark mages were most likely not being kind. His mind returned to Lucy, no matter hard he tried to not think about her. He was worried about Sorano, why wouldn’t he be? But, for some reason, he couldn't get Lucy out of his mind. He couldn't keep his worry from focusing more on her. Why? What the hell was going on? Why was he so focused on that blonde woman who he had tormented? 

He felt someone gently elbow him, trying to subtly get his attention. Midnight looked to his right to see Erik. The dragon slayer's face was expressionless, but his eye revealed that he was concerned. The maroon-haired man questioned with a voice so quiet that only Midnight could hear him, "you good? Worried about Blondie?"

Midnight turned his gaze to look back at Aries. He simply nodded his head, whispering back, "I don't know why. Shouldn't I be more worried about Sorano?" 

He heard Erik chuckle before responding with an amused tone, "never thought I'd see the day." 

"What day?"

"The day that you would fall in love. Guess I owe Richard a thousand jewel." The last part was grumbled. 

Midnight looked at Erik with furrowed brows. His friend didn't actually think that he was in love, did he? The younger man corrected, "I'm not in love with Lucy."

Erik simply rolled his eye and muttered, "whatever" before he drifted away from him. 

Midnight looked back at Aries. He wasn't in love with Lucy, right? He couldn't be. He had no right to fall in love with her after everything he did. He had no chance with her, so this want he has, it is merely a want to befriend her, not date her. 

Needing a distraction, the two-tone-haired man asked the celestial spirit in front of him, "how were you able to get to the guild?" 

Aries glanced back at him before answering meekly, "our keys were placed under a spell, so none of us could summon ourselves. I was able to escape because one of the dark mages summoned me. I managed to run away and switch to using my own magic." 

Minerva observed, "since you're out on your own magic, the mage that summoned you can't close your gate." Aries nodded at that. 

Midnight furrowed his brow at that. How the hell did they get Lucy's keys? Didn't she use requip magic to hold on to her keys? It seemed that he wasn't the only one to wonder that. Mira questioned, "Lucy uses requip magic. How did they get her keys?"

Aries shrugged, responding, "I don't know. Maybe they have a requip mage that can reach into another's pocket dimension." 

Mira merely hummed in response. Midnight balled his fists. That was possible? He had never heard of that happening. Could Erza do that? There was something for him to investigate. He was brought back to the present when Aries spoke, "we're here." She stopped walking and turned to the others, continuing, "they have a celestial spirit that guards the hideout. I'll distract him while the rest of you go in." 

Midnight and the others responded with nods and watched as Aries pushed through the vegetation and walk toward the hideout, which looked like a warehouse. She yelled for someone named Grus and soon raced for the trees on the other side of the clearing, a bird-like man flying after her. Minerva and Laxus immediately rushed toward the hideout, Sting, Midnight, Erik, and Mira following close behind them. The bulking, blonde used a blast of lightning to break open the doors. Inside, many men sat around, looking at the mages that had suddenly burst inside. 

Laxus looked toward Midnight and Sting, ordering them with an authoritarian voice, "Midnight! Sting! Go find Lucy, Yukino, and Sorano!" 

The two men nodded before they raced toward a nearby door, Sting in front as he sniffed for any familiar scent. Midnight tuned out the sounds of fighting behind him. He had to find the three missing mages. 

As they walked down the resulting corridor, the two men came to a staircase. Midnight looked at Sting and asked, "do you have their scents?" 

Sting nodded, muttering, "I have Yukino's, Lucy's, and Sorano's. I also got another one, but I can't identify whose it is." 

Midnight didn't waste any more time, descending the flight of stairs in a rush. He quickly noticed that Sting wasn't following him. He turned around to see that the blonde man hadn't moved from his spot. Midnight walked back up the steps before he came to a stop next to the dragon slayer. He saw that the other man was staring at something that only he seemed to be able to see. Sting's dark blue eyes were blown wide. He looked petrified, frozen to where he stood by a frightening sight that was revealed only to his eyes. 

Midnight questioned, feeling annoyance rise from his gut, "what's wrong with you?" His brow was furrowed. He didn't have time to deal with this. The more time they spent standing in place was more time that Lucy, Yukino, and Sorano could be hurt even further than they already have been. 

Sting muttered his response, his small voice shaky, "b-blood...I-I smell blood." 

Midnight's red eyes widened. Panic, worry, and anger took over his body. His legs bounded down the steps, skipping several, and he pushed open the door that he came to at the bottom. He didn't know if Sting had broken out of his trance, and honestly, he didn't care. He had to find Lucy. 

The two-tone-haired man came to a large, metal door. He pushed it open, not bothering to falter in his pace. Once inside the resulting room, he skidded to a stop. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel himself starting to sweat. The smell of blood hit him in waves with such force that it made his stomach turn. It was a strange thing. He was a former dark mage. He had witnessed terrible things and smelled blood before, so why was it affecting him in this way now? 

Midnight walked down the wide corridor that was lined with cells, soon coming to the four cells in the middle. He looked into the one on his right, freezing in place when he saw what it contained. 

A completely naked Sorano was laying on the ground. She was covered in cuts from a whip and deep burn marks. Her fingernails were all gone and her eyes seemed to have been gouged out of their sockets. It was a sickening sight that Midnight couldn't look at any longer. 

He turned his gaze to the cell that was across from Sorano's. He clamped a hand over his mouth. He was just barely able to recognize the broken body of Queen Hisui. He hadn't known before that the queen had been captured. How long had she been here? Why wasn't anybody told about her disappearance? The sight of the green-haired woman was sickening, even for him. She was also laying on the stone floor, a large puddle of blood surrounding her mangled body. It appeared that she had also been whipped. Her entire left hand was gone, as was her right foot. Her hair was cut incredibly short. Half her face appeared to have been burned off. 

Midnight looked down at the floor. He wanted to turn around and run out, but he couldn't. His body wouldn't allow him. Not until he found Lucy. 

He walked forward to stand between the other two cells, ignoring the sound of Sting's choked sob. The former dark mage looked into the cell on his left, the sight causing his stomach to turn even more. Sorano's sister was hanging from the ceiling, her arms above her as she was suspended by chains. She wasn't completely naked, but she might as well be. Her clothing was reduced to mere rags. Her body was more covered in burn marks than it was in cuts. Her left leg was bruised and almost twisted grotesquely, clearly broken to an extreme degree. Deep gashes were raked over her closed eyelids. 

Midnight took a step back. He dreaded seeing what state Lucy was in. He pulled his hand away from his mouth and looked down at both of his hands. He could see that his entire body was shaking, but he couldn't feel himself shaking. It was a weird experience that he had never been through before. His mind turned to Lucy, imagining what she could be going through. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He forced himself to hesitantly turn around and face the cell that he was standing with his back to. He didn't want to face Lucy's broken state, but he also wanted to see how bad her condition was. Maybe she wasn't in as bad of a state. Maybe she had a chance of being saved. The independent mage found that the fourth cell was empty, save for chains that hung from the ceiling and a large puddle of blood below them on the floor. 

In a rush of panic, Midnight ran to the large, metal door that was on the other end of the dark, stone, cell-lined corridor. He pushed it open, leaving the grief-stricken Sting behind. It didn't take long of running down a hallway for Midnight to see two people race out of a room and disappear around a corner. He wanted to go after them, but he had to find Lucy first. 

He quickly came to the door that the two people had exited and opened it, coming to an immediate stop when his red eyes fell on who he knew was Lucy. She was tied to a chair, her bloody and wound-covered body completely naked. She wasn't moving, but he was able to see the slight rise and fall of her bare chest. The blonde's head was pulled back, a drenched piece of cloth covering her face. 

Midnight felt bile rise into his throat as a few tears rolled down his cheeks. He hated the sight, but couldn't look away. He swallowed down the bile that had risen and he managed to force himself to walk toward her. Not knowing what he should say, but also knowing that he had to let the blonde know that someone was there to save her, he called out to her, "Lucy! You're going to be okay!"

He forced himself to focus on undoing the restraints and pulled off the piece of cloth that was over her face. He gently picked up Lucy and made his way back to the others, trying to focus on getting her help rather than on her condition. He couldn't allow himself to break down, no matter how much his body wanted to.

#fairy tail #lucy heartfilia #sorano agria #yukino agria #hisui fiore #freed justine #rufus lore #midnight #macbeth #cobra #erik #laxus dreyar #bickslow #bixlow #evergreen #mirajane strauss #minvera orland #mentions of other characters #angst #torture #hurt/no comfort #chapter five #multi chapter story #ocs #aries

[queenxfjustice]

He bursts into the room, full of energy and excitement as he practically bounced towards her carrying a plain looking box.

"KOTO, YOUGOTTASEETHISIJUSTMADETHECOOLESTTHINGEVER, AND-"

Good God, Aaron! Breathe!! She can't understand you if you say it all at once-

"R-right, sorry. Got a little carried away there."

"It'll probably be easier to just show you-"

He opened the box to reveal a modified pair of tennis shoes, with an odd mechanism strapped to the bottom of one. He then tapped a button, causing the machine to whirr to life, before he promptly dropped the shoe on the floor... except it didn't hit the floor. Instead, it quickly floated back up before hovering in front of them for a brief moment, before the power cut out and it landed back in his hand.

"Cool, right?? I'm still working out the kinks, gotta balance out the thrust for my weight, not to mention come up with an efficient control mechanism, but still- I have hovershoes!!"

There was also the matter of powering the things, something he may need her help testing, but one step at a time.

Makoto was quite used to Aaron's excitement when it came to his various interests. He reminded her of a little kid, excited to show off the new toy or candy he'd gotten from a day out. Despite that, he seemed even more excited than usual this time, causing her to give him a rather wide-eyed look as he rambled on.

And then he showed off his new invention - she watched as the shoe hovered in the air, a little unstable but what invention was fully stable upon first being created?

"That's rather impressive!" She exclaimed, smiling proudly at him. "Are you planning on using them during fights? That might come in handy when dealing with enemies that end up airborne. But they only hover, right? Maybe they won't work for in-air fighting..."

#riglink message received #webbedphantom

[chrysolipsist]

fully activated endocannabinoid system stream of consciousness 8th of April 2023

your celebrity doppelganger is a "younger than you remember him" wilford brimley but with hipster glasses instead of the kind he wore.

What do you mean? I don't wear "hipster glasses".

Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say.

No, listen, do you look at me and see a hipster? Are you really trying to say that I, moi, am a hipster? Look at me. What about me is remotely hipster-like?

The fucking hair for one. No one has ever said you can't be a fat hipster. But that's what you are at heart. You're just self aware. So you don't tell people about that really obscure ablum you found which you think no one else knows about except that it's been sampled about 500 times. but you don't go and tell people about those because you know that would be the hipster sort of thing to do so you don't do it. Also you would totally grow a beard if you could grow one that didn't look like shit. It's not that you can't grow sufficient hair but the hair is ginger in color and looks like crap. It doesn't match the hair on your head and it looks horrible. As if you're some sort of chimera. But there's nothing that interesting about you, besides your genetic heritage and, maybe, your work, which you don't much talk about online because you value your anonymity. Anyway you could probably dye it to match your hair but you'd never maintain that. But all of this isn't really even worth talking about, because that description isn't even accurate. You look nothing like wilford brimely in the least. You have hair, for one, and you don't have the same shape of face at all, or even head for that matter. Hell, fucking wilford brimley was probably in better shape when he was making those diabetes commercials than you are right now. Why the fuck haven't you got diabetes? I'm surprised, honestly. It's a miracle of some kind, the way you carry on. Doing hardly anything at all physical for months and months, getting stoned and engorging your face with whatever happens to be laying around because it all tastes so fucking good right now man, really.

Are these thoughts intended to be written as a conversation because that's not quite right. Sometimes it ping-pongs back and forth between various extremes - or maybe bounces off two opposing sides, as it were, but there are many thoughts in there. Not only two streams in conversation. So we won't carry on like that, although we may return to it sometimes. Okay, that's enough meta-writing for now.

When you are high and you are into it, the choice is often one between doing something creative - "productive", especially writing because you think every little thought you have is profound. Although it's probably all garbage. But yes -- the choice between doing something creative, or perhaps sacred, and doing something base and profane. Because all the senses are heightened when you are floating in this level of green. The sense of taste, smell, sight, sound, and touch. And so it's nice to eat and drink and extremely nice to fuck, or failing to make that come to pass, masturbate. How will you spend this little plateau of highness? Or will you sit around and dither and not do either one of them, which is often how you are when you're in this state of mind. Or in any state of mind for that matter. Oh, leave me alone already. What more do you want, I'm writing, I'm writing. Okay let's kill that personality. he doesn't get any more lines in the log.

This is an interesting phase where you go when everything's really interesting. Like literally anything at all could be the discussion point and I would love to know more. Literally feed me information, stream me full of information, I am ready to go on the information superhighway baby. Streamline that fucking information right into my goddamn veins. Some fun facts. Some tidbits. Some trivia, some essential knowledge. Some lessons learned. Some trade secrets. Some insider info. Some redacted reports. Give me my Freedom of Information Request material post haste. Inject me full of all this knowledge all at once because it's immensely interesting to me. I could get into positively anything right now and it would be immensely interesting and I could simply not get enough information about it no way

Okay to make this interesting, I need some kind of stimulus in order to not fall into a self reflective spiral like the above.

engine earring

Holy shit, I keep forgetting it's Easter tomorrow. This was never a huge holiday for me. Even though I did the stuff like color eggs and get a basket with candy in it when I was a kid, I really didn't have a religious upbringing and the holiday never gave the same impression as Christmas, which had not only candy and other goodies but presents as well. Anyway I keep forgetting tomorrow is Easter. I got some steaks to cook on the grill. I didn't feel like having ham. I'm not really that into ham, it's OK about once a year, and I don't really care about doing the prescribed things on holidays anyway. I mean, I have done that enough my life. Isn't four decades of hams enough for you?

I'm in the phase where I don't know if what I'm saying makes sense to other people. In this state I am apt to write something and not know if it makes sense. I think I just replied to a post with something that makes rather little sense on review. Just something that sounded funny to me at the moment. I will log off of there for now.

You know what you can't find of? A picture of a young Wilford Brimley. He was old in appearance from the first time he showed up in any acting role. A while ago there was this whole thing comparing how Wilford looked at age 52 versus how Paul Rudd looks at the same age, with Wilford looking much older, and people asked, "in the past, did people look older?" to which someone answered "no, it was just because they were dressed in fashions that we now associate with old people" or some other such thing, which frankly is a completely bullshit answer, because images of both Wilford and Paul Rudd in similar modern clothes can easily be found. Clothes that don't belong to a particular era or can at least be made to look similar and Wilford STILL looks a lot older. You could take 'em both and give them the same haircut and the exact same clothes and Wilford would still look much older at the same age. Anyway, you can't find a picture of a young Wilford Brimley through an image search on the world wide web.

[marymauk]

You didnt ask, but in a m9/ howl's moving castle au essek would be turnip head

#except he floats instead of bounces probably #anyway just think about it #my post #howl's moving castle #critical role #fic ideas #essek thelyss

[pricklenettle]

Fenton Driving School

The prompt comes from @gilbirda

WC: 3344

Prompt: The students of Casper High aren't sure why they are on a siege. The ghost villain is new, and they keep demanding for the Ghost King to show his face and battle them, but they don't know any 'Ghost King'. And why is the Fenton kid being held down by his friends? (PR284)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/38381152

Danny Fenton felt like he was in a pickle jar. An impression not helped by the bottle green ghost shield that strained any light that got through into an unnatural twilight. When you looked up at the sun it almost appeared to wobble as though through old warped glass. This same effect made the huge ghost floating right outside look like a misshapen frog. 

Especially when he opened his mouth to bellow: “Where is the Ghost King! Fight me!”

Which was just a ridiculous thing to shout into the air. In any other world if someone walked around challenging the king of ghosts— well incarceration at an insane asylum would be the usual course. 

The ghost outside punctuated his cry by again punching a huge blast at the school. The shield wobbled, rippling like a disturbed pool. Danny sighed, but they were in his world and nothing so convenient would ever happen. He bounced his leg up and down, eyes flicking back and forth to track the attacker and watch for any other threats. Sam and Tucker stood on either side of him, guarding him from moving even a centimeter out of his seat on the steps in front of the school. The ghost shot another torpedo blast of force at the shield and Danny jerked toward it almost against his will. Sam sent him a loaded glare that would curdle milk and kill most small rodents. Danny settled back on the step.

All around them, students milled inside the shield, keeping together in tight worried groups. School hadn’t finished when the ghost attacked so inside was packed as well. Danny’s eyes roved over the parking lot, each vehicle representing a fraction of the students trapped in the ghost shield, crowding to the windows and doors, watching the ghost circle. Danny would have gone completely insane if he’d been trapped in a schoolroom on top of everything else. He was lucky other students were willing to risk their physical safety outside at the edge of the shield to catch a glimpse of Phantom. At least he had fresh air (although the breeze that filtered through the shield had the barest hint of stuffy citrus and battery acid, like bad cleaning product.) He didn’t feel lucky.

The ghost bellowed a blood curdling war cry probably designed to stop his enemies in their tracks, the students didn’t seem much more than annoyed by it though. Danny actually recognised this guy, it had taken him a hot second of course, for the simple reason he’d never taken him seriously.

Puncheus Maximus— yes, that was his name, was dressed like a wrestler you’d see on t.v. really, really bad t.v. Purple leopard print shorts and all. He did have a very battered, very real Roman helm, but Danny was pretty certain he’d found that after his death. Sometimes you couldn’t be sure though. Puncheus had led a small group of malcontents raiding Danny’s allies. Just generally spitting in the face of his reign, making big boasts, and failing to accomplish much except to be annoyances. So Danny had sent Fright Knight to clean them up so he could deal with the many actual problems clogging his life (one of which was locked around his waist under his hoodie.) Looked like Puncheus had joined the list.

Danny gritted his teeth and snuck another glance around the periphery. Everyone looked fine for now, if impatient. As for Puncheus, it looked like instead of using ecto blasts, the guy shot a powerful short range torpedo blast that vibrated the air every time he punched. It looked like it would hurt to take a hit head on, but Danny knew if he could just turn into Phantom he could bring him down.

“Ghost King,” he bellowed.

“We don’t know who you’re talking about,” Dash yelled, tossing a football at Kwan.

Kwan grabbed the ball out of the air, joining in a bit quieter, “Yeah, we don’t have any Ghost Kings around here.”

“Seriously, just let us go home.”

Paulina looked up from her perch on the railing at the top of the stairs. She smirked. “Phantom will make mincemeat out of you, so just go already before you embarrass yourself.” Apparently bored of bullying the ghost, she returned to her conversation with Star.

Danny buried his head in his hands. “This is what I get for playing up my fear of ghosts.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” Sam winced, she was always awkward in the position of comforter. “It’s not your fault people always see you run away from ghost attacks.”

He grunted, frustrated. Right now the specter deflector was at the top of his least favorite Fenton inventions. Dad and Mom had gone off to some conference, and they’d been very worried about the safety of their youngest child. So of course the best solution was to create a specter deflector designed just for Danny and his “ectoplasm residue” and lock it around his waist. The gesture might have been sweet if the stupid belt didn’t inflict terrible electrocution every time he tried to go ghost. At least the adjustments wouldn’t let it shock him on contact anymore. 

He turned to Tucker. “You’re sure you can’t unlock it?”

Tucker shook his head. “The lock is completely manual. They’re going to have to fly back with the key. Face it, dude, Phantom’s going to have to take the bench this time.”

“As soon as they get home I’m dropping this thing in the blender.”

Sam patted his shoulder. “You said yourself, this guy is no big deal, I’m sure Valerie can handle him.” 

“The suit Technus modified is completely ghost, she can’t pass it through the shield. I’m pretty sure she’s moping in the library.”

“Well, the ghost will have to give up eventually, won’t it?” Tucker’s voice was high and unconvincing. 

“Hey, Phantom.”

Danny groaned and dragged his hands over his face. “Hello, Wes. Would you mind leaving me to my misery?”

“Ha! You responded, tell me now you’re not him.”

“Alright, I’m not.”

Wes Weston crossed his skinny arms, scowling. “Transform already, I want to get out of here.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “If I was a ghost, I would be just as unable to pass through the ghost shield from this side as our friend out there.”

“Oh.” 

Wes’s face fell, perhaps finally realizing that he wasn’t being helpful at all. He crab-walked away up the steps, but then whipped out his camera anyway, as though Danny might transform after all. Danny sighed, kneading his palms into his eye sockets. 

It was Lancer who landed the final blow.

He came out of the school blinking, taking in the screaming ghost as though he hadn’t realized they’d been under siege for the past forty minutes. Then his eyes settled on Danny and he marched straight through the other students. There was no escape. 

“Mr. Fenton, this is the perfect opportunity to talk about your book report that was due today.”

Danny was done. He slapped his knees and lunged to his feet before Tucker or Sam could stop him.

“Sorry, Lancer, got to go.”

The Fenton thermos was in his backpack. He dropped it off his shoulder and plunged his hand in, rooting for it as he darted for the shield. 

“Danny, no, don’t do this!” Tucker slid down the banister, at the bottom he jumped off, arms out to tackle him to the ground. Danny skidded to a stop, just short of Tucker’s faceplant.

“Sorry, bud,” he shouted as he jumped over the prone form.

Tucker lifted a trembling thumbs-up into the air. “I’m okay.”

Danny’s hand finally closed on the thermos. And a good thing too, because Sam was sprinting at him with a look more determined than Cujo’s. He zipped the bag closed, then spun, launching the backpack at her at top speed. 

She went down with an “oof.”

Danny shoved the thermos into the front pocket of his hoodie, hopefully, it wouldn’t get in the way too much there.

“What is he thinking,” Lancer cried.

“Dash, incoming,” Sam shouted.

Dash turned, confusion on his dumb mug. That sneaky goth. Dash grinned, broadening his stance to intercept. Danny skirted around him, but Dash sidestepped to make a grab. It was easy to slip past him, and Danny left him behind. 

“What the heck are you up to Fen-turd?”

Other kids were now trying to grab him and hold him back, but Danny jumped and wound his way through, finally clearing the shield with a leap. It was like passing through a thick soup bubble, it caught him for a millisecond, green gooping over his nostrils, eyes, ears, the back of his neck like a freezing cold stream, and then it released him, letting him stumble forward into the parking lot. 

The ghost floated lower, glaring at him furiously. “You’re not the Ghost King.” His tone was mystified.

Danny put up his hands. “Nooooo, I am definitely not that guy, toootally not.” He raised his eyebrows waiting but Puncheus didn’t seem to get it. He stole a glance back to see Sam, Tucker, Lancer, Wes, Dash, and everyone else who’d been waiting outside the school pressed against the ghost shield watching him with wide eyes. The crowd was equally divided into delight at the mad show and the certainty that they were going to watch Fenton rushing to an early grave. Great, an avid audience was just what he needed. 

“Are you trying to mock me, human child?” Puncheus griped.

What was the plan? Who was he kidding, he never had one. Danny held back a laugh. If he could tire him out or take him off guard it would be easy to suck him up with the thermos. “I would never… Puncheus Maximus.” He won’t lie, a couple snickers burst out.

Puncheus seemed to take offense at that, he wound back, ectoplasm shimmering over his fist in glowing rings. “Shut up, I don’t need to take this from a brat. Tell me where the Ghost King is.”

“Don’t know anybody like that,” Danny said blithely, “how about I fight you instead?”

He snorted.

“Scared already? If you can’t even beat me, you should give up on Ghost Kings.”

“I am not scared,” Puncheus exploded. “You’re beneath my notice.” The fool floated lower so he could more effectively glare Danny into the ground. “You should be more careful who you—”

Danny punched him in the eye. He, of course, just went intangible, and Danny got to experience the other side of the cold sensation of his arm passing cleanly through an apparently solid person, but it certainly did the trick of making Puncheus really, really mad. Puncheus jumped back, letting loose with a torpedo blast. Danny leaped to the side, easily avoiding the wave of power that cracked the asphalt behind him. He darted forward, dodging another with both fists up. Puncheus scoffed, swinging a torpedo blast at him. Danny ducked under it, saw his chance, and landed two blows. Puncheus roared, Danny barely had time to roll away before a huge blast screamed past his ear. He couldn’t help a smile though, it was just what he thought, Puncheus couldn’t fire his powerful blasts and stay intangible at the same time. 

“You brat!” he shouted. 

He floated up a couple feet in the air, close enough that his blasts would still be effective but far enough that Danny would be missing his flight— not that he hadn’t been already. Puncheus reared back and sent a barrage of blasts raining down on him. Danny dodged behind a car, he put his back to it, wincing at the bang that no doubt meant a trip to the auto mechanic. He looked up in time to spot Puncheus floating over the roof and aiming another blast. 

Danny threw himself to his feet, avoiding a blast that splashed him with asphalt pebbles. “Wow, you are really bad at this.”

He ran deeper into the maze of cars, the rows packed tightly as the red marks that were going to crowd his book report— just as soon as he turned it in. 

It was a good chance to catch his breath. He got on his hands and knees so Puncheus would have a harder time seeing him. Jazz’s cruddy old car was somewhere nearby, Dad might even have stocked a Fenton bazooka. That would be lucky. He crept through the parking lot, carefully keeping an eye on the sky.

“Come out, brat.” Puncheus kept yelling. “You picked this fight, don’t run away now.”

Puncheus appeared right in front of Danny. He grinned, shooting a torpedo blast. Danny pushed off the senior’s car he was leaning against. The small car jumped sideways, the ugly dent right where Danny’s chest had been. He took a running jump, kicked off the side of the opposite car, and went flying through the intangible ghost. 

Grumbling he picked himself up, darting into another row of cars. The problem was hitting Puncheus at just the right moment. 

There it was. Jazz’s car was half shaded by a bush which did no favors for the peeling brown paint. Danny spotted Puncheus in a side mirror just in time to roll under a van. He peeked out carefully, it wasn’t too far of a sprint, he’d just need to be sneaky if he wanted any time to rummage.

He waited, Puncheus had stopped shouting threats. He eased himself out from underneath the van, squinting grumpily past the sun glaring into his eyes in search of Puncheus. Nothing. He crawled out. Keeping low to the ground he dashed across the empty space. The side of Jazz’s car was rough against his fingers when he ducked against it, scanning for Puncheus again. He reached for the handle, peeking through the window revealed a deliberately clean interior, a couple books in the back seat, and an empty coffee askew in the cupholder. He yanked on the handle again. His stomach sank, it was locked. Heavy boots crunched down behind him. He turned. Punchius stood over him with a triumphant grin. 

“Bad at this, am I?”

“Wow, you’re still burning over that quip? It wasn’t even that good.”

He shot a torpedo blast at Danny’s head. 

Danny rolled to the side, kicking out his leg to hook around Puncheus’s ankle. He went intangible but that just meant he couldn’t shoot torpedoes. 

“You really need to work on your self esteem.” 

Danny jumped to his feet, raining useless blows on him and dodging heavy punches. Then Puncheus caught Danny’s fist with his chin. He gaped at it for a single uncomprehending moment. Puncheus’s flashing red eyes glared murderously. Then a torpedo blast rammed into him. Danny hit the car hard, the breath whooshed out of his lungs in a gasp, and he felt the metal dent under his shoulder. Electricity from the specter deflector arced up and down his side as his ghost half tried to heal. He kept his balance, barely, even though his arm and chest felt like a wrung dishcloth. Puncheus grabbed his collar, dragging him up into the sky.

“Do you yield, brat?”

Danny wheezed out a laugh which made Puncheus’s eye twitch. “I just can’t—” he laughed, “I just can’t take you seriously. Congrats on landing one blow on a teenager.”

Puncheus’s face shot a livid green. “I don’t have time for this,” he said in disgust.

He swooped down. Danny tensed, ready to hit pavement. But instead, Puncheus forced him, intangible, through the roof of a car. Danny went sprawling in the backseat. Puncheus’s face phased through the roof above him. And what an ugly face it was.

“You should invest in cosmetics, I’ve taken more damage from your face than your punches.”

Puncheus snarled. “Be grateful I’m saving my strength for the Ghost King, kid.” Then his eyes glowed and all the locks snapped shut. 

Puncheus’s face disappeared. Danny could already hear his challenges starting up again as he wandered back toward the school. Well, this wouldn’t do, at this rate, he’d lose his crown to a t.v. wrestler wannabe who thought Puncheus Maximus was a cool name. 

Danny scrambled up over the divider into the driver’s seat. He only blanched when he saw the pile of graded papers in the passenger seat. This was Lancer’s car. Well, hopefully, whatever he did next would destroy his assignment in the crossfire. His fingers grazed over the ignition, no keys of course. He scrunched up his face in preparation for the pain and shoved his hand into the dashboard. The belt sparked, zapping out a series of light shocks. Danny just had to grimace, rooting around until the car revved to life. Danny quickly snapped back his hand, and the specter deflector immediately calmed down. A wide grin spread across his face as he switched to drive.

Danny stomped on the gas. The engine squealed in dismay, lurching forward in a skid. Danny’s teeth clicked together at the sudden acceleration, all the loose papers flew up like pigeons. He threw the wheel to the right, tires squealing messily. The back end clipped its neighbor. Puncheus spun, eyes wide with disbelief. Danny braced himself against the wheel. The car bucked as he smashed into the car Puncheus had been standing in front of. Time slowed, Danny lifted out of his seat, gravity losing its grip on him for a snapshot. Danny’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. It was thrilling, feeling his heartbeat, his blood pumping through his veins like a hose, the euphoria as his brain bounced around his skull. Flying alive was great. Then he crashed back down, windshield cracked, head bouncing on the headrest. The front of the car was probably crumpled.  

Danny turned to the passenger seat with a smile. “Going somewhere?”

Puncheus was clearly discombobulated to find himself in the front seat of Lancer’s car. Automatically he retrieved the hand phasing through the door and the legs still standing in the street, folding them into the human space. Face drawn into a mask of fury, he leveled his fist at Danny like a gun.

“That’s it, brat, say goodbye to life.”

His arm rippled as it charged up ectoplasm.

“Already did that.”

Danny rammed the car into reverse, the gas hitting the floor with a satisfying thud. Puncheus was caught off guard in the tangible world where physics existed. He flew out the windshield, glass spraying across the asphalt. 

“I take tips by the way,” he shouted.

Danny pushed the brake for the first time, gasping. He put it in part, slipping his legs up into the seat. Feeling just a tad like jelly, he climbed out the windshield. He paused for a moment on the hood, planting his hands on his hips to survey the damage. Not bad for his first time driving.

Puncheus was still lying on the ground a few feet away. Danny hopped down, fishing out his thermos. He was face down on the ground, a couple shards of windshield sparkling under him. Other than a bad case of road rash and a healthy dose of shock, he looked fine. Danny let a devilish grin spread across his face. 

“I win.”

Puncheus just groaned miserably.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get back to the zone tonight, I’m sure Fright Knight is missing you sorely right about now.”

His eyes widened before the thermos’s beam engulfed him and he was safely vacuumed up. Danny couldn’t stop the self satisfied smile as he twisted the cap closed.

“Fen-turd, what the heck?”

He froze midstep, just then remembering his audience. He half turned toward them stiffly. The ghost shield had dissipated, but no one had moved, all staring at him. Sam smacked herself in the face.

“Are you— um, alright?” Lancer said, eyes popping out like a squeaky toy.

Danny put up a hand to the back of his head, laughing nervously. “Sorry about your car.”

Lancer seemed at a loss.

Danny laughed nervously again. Then he turned and ran.

#Danny Phantom #phic phight 2022 #my writing #danny is chaos #danny fenton #specter deflector

[soluchi]

Don’t.

SUMMARY: y/n does stupid shit, jotaro stops them from doing stupid shit

WORDS: 2k

Jotaro Kujo could be described in many ways. Intimidating, tall, he's going to fucking kill me, handsome, weird, mysterious, literally unhinged, rude, and many many more.

But to you, he was annoying. Ever since you two met for the first time, he's been bossing you around.

You were playing in the sandpit when you saw something red crawling in the grass into a pile of dirt. Standing up and brushing off the sand off your pants, you made your way to the pile. Curiosity took over you and your finger slowly inched towards the little red dots.

"Don't." A small hand stopped you from reaching the dirt. You looked up to see turquoise eyes looking back at yours. He took this as a chance to elaborate.

"Red ants have venom in them that causes rashes and makes you itchy." Your face twisted in confusion trying to make out what he just said.

"What?" The strange black haired kid dragged you away from the sandpit and near a tree. "The red dots are bad." He simplified. "Oh."

He sat by the tree and started reading a book. You awkwardly stood there not knowing what to do because you were dragged here without consent. The boy patted to the ground next to him and you took the invitation.

Turquoise optics glared at (color) ones. Why? Because he was stopping you from getting out of school. "It's the end of the day, just let me go home!" You whined trying to walk out of the school doors. He had stopped you with his infamous "Don't."

"What do I have to do now?!" Jotaro threw you the jacket that you somehow forgot in your last class. "(some teacher name idk)'s essay is due today. You finished it five days ago and you haven't turned it in." You lifted your eyebrow at this.

Since when did he care? How did he know when you finished your essay? You finished your essay?! Your essay?! You looked through your slowly decaying bookbag and found the five pages you were supposed to turn in by 15:50. You looked around for a clock and saw the time-

15:49

Ms. (teacher)'s class was on the 4th floor. It was 15:46. Screaming filled the primary school as you practically bounced up to the second floor trying your best to turn the homework in at the right time to the strict teacher. Weird looks were thrown at you as you pushed students out of the way and dashed up the stairs.

Instead of leaving, Jotaro waited by a tree reading a book. Despite the serious-looking cover, which was fake, he smiled flipping through pages of a picture book about sea creatures.

Seeing how old friends got hit by the puberty truck on the first day of high school was interesting, teasing the insecure idiots who thought it was a good idea to interact with you and all. Wait, that sounds mean.

You looked around the classroom and just settled for your previous thought that your friend hadn’t come to school today. Until you saw striking turquoise eyes staring at you. 

The puberty truck had run over him at least eighteen times and threw him off of a cliff while he was set on fire because that was not the stupid little shit you used to bully.

 "What'd you do with Jotaro?!" You yelled as soon as you walked into the shared homeroom. You got nothing in response from the stranger himself, save for the glare.

Your face twisted in disgust. This shadow the hedgehog headass who probably listens to MCR really just took your friend and had the audacity to glare at you?!

What a bitch.

And he was surrounded by girls? Like damn, how many kids are in this class? Jotaro is never surrounded by girls, let alone people!

Loser.

You were an exception, although people doubted you were even of the human race.

He pushed them out of the way and walked out of the classroom. You were going to follow him to question him further, but some invisible force dragged you along as well.

As you freaked out about floating you reached your destination, which was the roof. I know I'm annoying, but would he really throw me off a roof just to get me to shut up?

"What did you do, magic man?!" You blurted out while still looking at the floor because you were fucking floating?! He looked back at you confused and if you cared to look a little longer, there was pink dusted on his face. "You can't see it?"

You just wanted your friend back, what the fuck is going on? "See what?!" You questioned. "Are you talking about me floating? You're supposed to answer that, not me!"

Unbeknownst to you, the purple stand frowned now knowing you couldn't see him. Jotaro on the other hand was relieved that you weren't possessed. And that you weren't able to cause any more trouble than you already do.

You pointed at him in frustration. "You still haven't answered my question!" It would be a pain explaining something he didn't know well himself so he ignored you, like a loser.

"If you won't answer that question, then at least tell me who you are!" You weren't joking? He sighed and looked you dead in the eyes.

Well, at least he could answer that. "Jotaro Kujo." You made a noise of confusion, which surprised the ravenette. Maybe she actually is an alien.

"You... did you take a testosterone pill up the ass?" He watched you hunch over and try to scare him as you circled around him trying to find out if this was actually your friend.

That was when you noticed his hat. What the fuck is going on with his hat? Where does it end? Or does he just have very long hair in the style of a hat? Suddenly forgetting everything except the mystery of the hat, your hand made a beeline towards his hat.

You forgot everything, including the boy wearing the hat. He grabbed your wrist before your finger could touch the fabric. Or the hair?

"Don't."

"Jotaro, one way or another, you're going to have to talk about whatever the fuck is going on with you!" You glared at him, you're voice was rough but there was no intention of malice.

Even after your constant badgering, your friend would open up. It was absolutely stupid how he thought you would just ignore him after fifty fucking days of being missing.

You knew it wasn’t that he needed a break from school or from life because he would’ve just said that, because it was normal for him to disappear like that. But for the minimum of a week, not over a month.

For the first time ever in your entire life, you give him a look of pity. If he wasn't spaced out right now, he'd snap at you, but at least you'd know he's still himself. From the way things are currently going, the most he'd do at this point was grunt and glare at you.

You drew in a shaky breath and kept your eyes on his face, desperately trying to keep your mind off of the scars you'd just seen. "Look- I- I'm sorry. I just got.." 

You flung your hands around jokingly because you didn't know how to actually explain the emotion you were currently feeling. "It doesn't have to be right now, but can you please say something so I don't sound like a crazy ex yelling." You laughed, trying to make light of how you previously acted.

"You- you don't even have to tell me the reason why you were gone! It's none of my business unless you choose to tell me. Just say something." You played with your fuzzy socks and look around, hoping to find anything else that interests you so you didn't have to look him in the eye.

"Please just tell me that you're ok."

This seems to get a reaction out of Jotaro. But instead of actually saying anything, he got up to leave after flinching. Like always, you give him a side hug.

You give his face a quick glance to see if he's starting to feel better, but you see him crying. Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to say something to him, but nothing came out.

This was the first time you'd ever seen him cry. Sure, he cried without you in the room where you could hear him, but never when you're in the room. Even after you’ve told him that it’s ok. He saw you with your mouth open and stepped away from you to wipe his tears.

"Don't."

You think he meant not to feel bad for him. He was too late to say anything like that though.

You were crying in the rain, in front of a tree, why? Because of your grades. It was just a fucking B, why were they so mad?! I passed my classes with all A's... and a B. But at the end of the day, it's still just a B! You kicked a rock to pass on your pent-up anger, but it didn't help anything. Obviously.

To say your parents were strict was... one way to put it, but there was a better word to explain it. Controlling. They thought too highly of you, yet it wasn’t helpful at all.

They pushed too much on you while putting up this standard that you were a perfect little kid, and you weren't. It's been going on since you were a damn child, for fucks sake!

There's only so much a struggling 16-year-old can do. Contrary to popular belief, you were neither God nor the Devil. You can't make supernatural shit happen. And despite all this, you still try your best. "But the best isn't enough."

Out of frustration, you almost hit the tree in front of you. It took you a few seconds to realize the rain stopped. Not like it... stopped, but it stopped around you.

Your aquinting eyes focused on the sky in question, but you only saw an umbrella. And a Jotaro. You didn't notice before, but he was holding your hand.

"Don't."

You calmed down at the thought of him holding your hand. "What?" That word always follows after don't, huh. You smiled at that newfound awareness. "The tree." He fixed his gaze to you glancing at him in question. "It's a nice tree."

You turned your head to face the tree. That was when realized, it was the tree where Jotaro dragged you to when you met. Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded. "It is a nice tree."

But at this moment, you were making the decision. Tears danced around your face until they hit the floor. Your starstruck expression transitioned into a happy one.

"Yes!"

Jotaro exhaled, letting go of the worry as you hugged him. He took that chance to slip on the engagement ring you accepted. Both of you were happy to spend the rest of your lives together.

"Now you're stuck with me forever!" You half jokingly smirked. The ravenette kissed you lovingly and smiled down at you. "I'm fine with that."

You glare at the now white hat. Jotaro gives you a glare of his own, but there's no anger behind it. He swiftly grabbed your wrist. You rolled your eyes trying to play off what you just attempted. I'll find out how that hat works one day. 

"Don't."

Jotaro Kujo can be described in many ways. Intimidating, tall, he's going to fucking kill me, handsome, weird, mysterious, literally unhinged, rude, and many many more. But to you, he was annoying. And you were fine with that because you love him.

                                                ☆☆☆☆☆

and then you divorced because you kept on pushing him off the bed in your sleep.

HSHJKLDJC I'M JOKING if you pay attention close enough, you can see me slowly hating jotaro less. im not at simp level, but i will stop bullying him,,,,, maybe,,, (so that was a fucking lie.) speaking of not being a simp, i don't know if this was enough to feed the jotaro stans,,,, so like,, 😔

after adding snother part to this,,, whatever this is. i realized i dont hate him as much anymore. mayb because my interest in jojo is dulling or because ive had time to reflect on his character,, i just. dont hate him anymore. damn.

#jotaro x reader #oneshot #part 3 jotaro #semi part 4 jotaro #angst #if you squint #reference to major character death #fluff #love hate relationship #proposal scene #anime #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure

[wyattjohnston]

by your side now - tyson jost

series: this is getting good now

summary: tyson takes a puck to the jaw... flick loses her cool

word count: 1,104

warning: i mean, he took a puck to the jaw during the game. i'm only comfortable posting this because he was ready to jump into the game with his little fishbowl

Flick watched Tyson fall to the ice in slow motion.

It seemed to come out of nowhere and the game continued to the offensive zone despite him being on the ice. If Gwen’s hand hadn’t come down on Flick’s thigh and brought her attention back to the arena, Flick wouldn’t have seen Tyson pick himself up and race to the bench.

Flick tried to stand, though her movement was impeded by Gwen’s hand, and Flick looked to her frantically as she tried to speak something to the effect of I need to make sure he’s okay except it mostly came out as a panicked and mumbled slur.

“It’s just a puck to the jaw.”

“Just a puck to the jaw,” Flick repeated as her breathing became heavy and her heart threatened to jump out of her mouth. “How is that supposed to make me feel better? Should I go see him?”

Gwen’s hand squeezed Flick’s thigh tighter as she said, “If you need to go see him, somebody will call you. He’s probably getting a few stitches and he could be on the ice before the game’s over. Worst case scenario he’s lost a tooth.”

Flick sighed, sounding wounded, “Not a tooth.”

Gwen laughed under her breath at Flick’s dramatics, long were the days of her being worried about EJ losing teeth, and just patted her thigh comfortingly.

Flick buried her face into her hands, trying to focus on her breathing and desperately trying to ignore the replay that had started on the television in the family box. In the back of her mind, she knew she was overreacting, especially because nobody around her was half as worried. He had skated off by himself and nobody was calling her to tell her that she needed to get down to the room so he must have been okay. Her breathing wasn’t really easing up, though, so she kept her head lowered and focused on the pressure of Gwen’s hand so that she wouldn’t just march through the arena to see him.

Tyson didn’t make it back before the end of the third period, but he did appear in the tunnel before overtime started. She only knew because Gwen made her look at the television. Her laugh was weak and somewhat wet, but a laugh is a laugh.

“He looks so sad,” she said, still laughing because of the bubble they’d put on his helmet to protect his face.

It was impossible to really tell what his face really looked like, not in the fleeting moment he was on screen, so, while Flick wasn’t entirely appeased, she was able to regulate her breathing. His face was floating in her mind, missing his two front teeth like EJ, though, so she couldn’t totally settle.

Not that she needed to wait long before Gaudreau ended the game.

Flick had the sense to not immediately rush to collect her purse and rush to the doors because it would be useless to race down to the rooms by herself only to have to stand around and wait in the hall when she could wait for a little bit longer in the nice box with her friends. She wanted to be there, though, and everybody could tell because she couldn’t stop bouncing anxiously.

Eventually she did make it down, after a suitable amount of time passed, accompanied by Gwen who hadn’t left her side at any moment. Everyone who left the locker room looked her way, some briefly, others for just a little long to long to make her feel comfortable.

Another laugh bubbled out of her mouth when Tyson walked out of the room, his cheek swollen.

He said a brief goodbye to André, who walked out ahead of him, and immediately walked to Flick. She wanted to bury her face in his neck but they were basically the same height so she knew she couldn’t really do so without knocking his face. Her hands settled on the collar of his shirt instead.

“Laughter’s a lot better than I expected,” he mumbled, his mouth barely opening.

“You look like you’re hoarding nuts for the winter,” she joked, regretting it when he flinched.

“You can’t make me laugh, it hurts,” he said, Flick could hear the pout in his voice—she could also see it in the furrow of his brow.

“Can we go?” Flick asked, making eye contact with Gwen who was waving goodbye. Flick waved back.

“In a minute, someone’s going to tell you the rules I have to follow.”

“Didn’t they already tell you?”

“Yeah but I know you’ll feel better hearing it from someone with medical training.”

Flick nodded, her shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. She didn’t even know she’d been holding that as tension. She reached out for Tyson’s hand, kissing the back of it because she couldn’t kiss him properly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I know you pretty well by now,” he said, rather smugly, inspire of the state of his face.

“You know me inside and out.”

They stood around, Flick pouting at Tyson who was pouting back even though she was certain he didn’t have much control over what his mouth was doing. The team slapped him on the shoulder as they left one by one, Gabe stopping to make sure that he had everything covered. Gabe squeezed Flick’s upper arm next and made sure that she was going to be alright, too.

“You would’ve told me if you lost a tooth, right?” Flick asked, her gaze on his mouth in case she had developed X-ray vision in the past hour. She hadn’t, unfortunately, so all she was looking at was the swelling.

“I would have told you,” he assured her, still mumbling. He opened his mouth just a fraction before saying, “They’re all there.”

Flick nodded. “I will love you no matter what but you losing a tooth might be pushing it.”

The undamaged side of his mouth lifted just a little and he breathed a laugh out through his nose, as he visibly tried to contain it from leaving his mouth. He managed, “I’m trying very hard to keep ‘em all. Just for you.”

Flick felt more at ease after speaking go the trainer and being given a clear set of instructions to follow even if they only really amounted to Tyson being in a liquid diet for a few days and to avoid him talking too much—futile, really, and far beyond Flick’s control.

He didn’t stop talking as they left the arena hand in hand; he wasn’t appeasing her anymore, he had moved on to complaining about the Flames.

Here's an alternate ending because I'm too impatient to wait for confirmation on the state of his teeth.

Please consider leaving feedback - reblog and write in the tags or send an ask, I’m not fussed. I just want to know what you’re thinking!

#tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #homemade fic #this is getting good now fic #fic: avs

[crossbowking]

More Than Anything (Part 2)

(Click HERE to read More Than Anything Part 1)

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) The reader’s feelings towards the archer evolve, but a supply run that goes south threatens to destroy it all.

Request: “I’d love to see something w protective Daryl and some angst, maybe set at the start of their time in Alexandria w an established relationship?” - @pulplorrd

A/N: See, you'd think I would've learned after making you guys wait a year and a half for No Way Out Part 2, that I should probably FINISH my stories before actually posting the first part...yet, here we are, one month later lol I'm sorry for the wait but hopefully it's worth it!

Happy reading and let me know what you think :)

xx Jess

Masterlist

Tip Jar

Previously...

But as its grasp slipped away from around Tara’s arm, the walker’s deadweight, in turn, collapsed against you.

You lost your footing and fell backward.

Except the solidity of concrete never rushed up to meet you.

Instead, you were embraced by water, the tarp that’d laid across the motel pool coiling around your body as you sunk deeper and deeper into nothingness.

Now...

When the world ended, you’d accepted the idea of death — your death, specifically.

You knew that one day, your life would undoubtedly end — most likely at the hands of the dead, ripped to pieces, torn to shreds, the way so many others before you had been taken. But you’d always hoped your death would at least mean something — maybe laying your life on the line, sacrificing yourself so the people you loved could survive.

Something noble, something brave.

Not like this.

Before the fall, you’d managed to inhale a sharp breath — though once you’d submerged into the grimy pool water, the coldness, the darkness, the shock of it all, had zapped the air right out of your body. You were becoming increasingly aware of the tightness in your chest, the burning in your lungs as you struggled against the walker pressed against you, its weight sinking you further into the depths of the pool.

Then, the panic set in — your heart pounded against your ribcage, right alongside the immense pressure crushing your lungs. Glimpses of sunlight hung just above you, peeking through parts of the drifting tarp you frantically attempted to push aside. You were completely disoriented, your vision obscured by the murkiness surrounding you, floating specks only visible beneath the shattered light above.

When your back connected against the bottom of the deep end, you managed to wriggle out from under the dead’s listless body — though the tarp remained twisted around your limbs. No matter how hard you fought, how hard you struggled, you couldn’t free yourself from the suffocating material. You could’ve sworn you were caught in a dream, your movements lagging and sluggish as you thrashed beneath the surface.

It felt as though someone had reached their hand directly through the center of your chest, squeezing your insides in a vice-like grip. A tingling sensation crawled down your spine, settling atop your churning stomach as the throbbing behind your ears began to slow.

You were listening to your last heartbeats.

It became unbearable, the water threatening to force its way past your clamped lips, the simple need to breathe. A sharp stab of pain shot through you as the blackness in your vision intensified, pulsing reddish-white around the edges as the fire in your chest consumed you at last.

Then, with nothing else left to do, you inhaled.

You weren’t sure what happened next — everything felt faint and fuzzy and quiet. The darkness that lingered no longer struck fear in you — instead, it was warm, enveloping you in its arms like a long-lost lover. The silence was soothing as you drifted in the emptiness, like careless whispers and forgotten melodies. You were weightless, you were freed, you were everything and nothing all at once.

You were dying.

That you were sure of.

Yet much to your surprise, you weren’t afraid — no, instead…you felt at peace.

But the brevity of calm didn’t last as you were suddenly aware of a vague pressure, though it wasn’t all-consuming nor constant. It was distant at first, a feeling you could’ve easily brushed aside had it not begun to gradually grow in force, in vigor — a steady pounding, coming from the center of your chest, over and over again.

The warmth around you began to splinter, shattering like shards of glass, the fallout piercing your skin as it collapsed around you. The pain was deep and burning and you longed for just a moment ago when all you felt was the sweetness of oblivion. The pressure pounding against your chest increased, becoming the sole thing you could feel, the only thing you could focus on, the unwavering thuds drawing you back from whatever place you’d drifted off to.

In the next moment, you were awake.

Your body flailed, jolting upright, but you’d only managed to get an inch or two off the ground before water began to suddenly spurt from your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut as you choked on the liquid, every nerve ending in your body red-hot. You were vaguely aware of hands, rough and calloused and familiar, gripping onto your arms and forcing you onto your side, the motion allowing the water leaving your lungs to flow easier.

You gasped a constricted breath, coughing harshly on the exhale, completely and entirely disoriented as to what in the fuck just happened. Your chest tightened as you spit up more water, your throat closing around the sensation as you fought for control of your breathing, the feeling of concrete against the side of your body grounding you.

When your coughs finally died down, the same hands from before grabbed onto your arms, pulling your deadweight upright, maneuvering your limp body as if you were a rag doll. You blinked your bleary eyes open, wincing from the sunlight directly above as you drew in shaky breaths.

And then you saw him.

Daryl knelt in front of you, his ragged breathing mirroring your own, soaking wet from head to toe. Strands of hair stuck against his forehead, droplets of water still dripping from the ends as he stared at you, wide-eyed, his expression a mixture of horror and shock — something you rarely witnessed when it came to the archer.

He was mouthing something — no, he was shouting something — but you couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t hear a damn word he was saying as you sat there, dazed and confused, wondering if what just happened actually happened.

His hold around your arms slipped away, his hands cradling either side of your face instead, tilting your head up and brushing your drenched hair back. He leaned forward a fraction, frantically studying your features, his haunted eyes bouncing back and forth between your own as though making sure you were there — really there.

The silence was becoming a little less resounding, the world around you gradually seeping back, though muffled and dull — but the way Daryl was looking at you, the apprehension in his gaze, shook something loose inside you. Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You wanted to tell him it was okay — that you were okay — but damn it, why couldn’t you speak?

So instead, you slowly lifted your hands, weakly grasping onto Daryl’s wrists, the small motion all you could muster — you had to let him know you were here. He glanced down at your hands, a small huff of relief escaping him.

But when he looked back up, you noticed the moisture that’d built in the corners of his eyes.

Daryl’s hands slipped behind your head, holding you still as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead gently against yours.

You, on the other hand, silently thanked whatever God or higher power was out there for giving you one more moment like this.

When the archer pulled back, you spotted a red streak smeared across his forehead that hadn’t been there before. Your brow knitted together as he sat back on his haunches. You tried clearing your throat, the sensation burning the rawness that’d spread. “You’re —” you croaked, your voice sounding foreign. “— you’re bleeding, D.”

Daryl’s expression darkened, his jaw clenching as he lowered his gaze and unsheathed his hunting knife. “It ain’t mine,” he rasped, suddenly slicing a long strip of fabric off from the bottom of his dampened shirt and balling it in his fist, ringing out some of the water.

Before you knew what was happening, he was reaching forward, pressing the material gingerly against your forehead and wrapping it behind your head, tying the strip into a knot to keep it in place. You were surprised at the sting of pain you felt, unsure when you managed to cut your head open in the midst of what had happened — everything was still sort of…fuzzy.

The sound of a car door slamming drew your attention. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, spotting Tara jogging towards you, the car you’d driven to the motel running idle in the parking lot.

“They’re coming!” she called out, motioning towards something just behind Daryl.

You craned your neck, attempting to get a look, but before you could, the archer was looping his arms beneath your armpits and hefting you up to your feet. The world tilted unsteadily around you, and had it not been for Daryl’s hold, the ground would’ve surely rushed up to meet you.

“I got ya,” he rasped, slinging one of your arms across his shoulders, his grip snaking around your waist.

Tara appeared at your opposite side, slightly out of breath. “Welcome back, chicka,” she shot you a slightly strained smile before following Daryl’s lead and winding your other arm across her shoulders, keeping you propped upright between them.

You wanted to tell them you were fine, that you were more than capable of walking on your own — but your strength had depleted, your legs shook beneath you, and the shock was beginning to wear off, making all the little aches and pains in your body alarmingly obvious.

Then, you were moving.

They half-dragged, half-carried you across the stretch of concrete, hurrying towards the parking lot where Tara had left the car. You peeked over your shoulder, managing to get a glimpse of what you were leaving behind — the small herd from earlier had been taken down, their bodies splayed out sporadically on the other side of the pool. Some sporting knife wounds, others bullet holes. The pool itself was rippling, the water sloshing back and forth, air bubbles visible at the surface.

Some of the dead had followed you into the water.

Just beyond the pool, you spotted exactly what you were running from — another herd, three times the size of the first one, ambling in from the woods behind the motel, most likely drawn in by gunfire.

When you reached the car, Tara slipped away and jumped into the driver’s seat. Daryl flung open the back door and maneuvered you carefully inside. You grimaced as you inched further into the car, only stopping once your back was pressed up against the opposite door. The archer quickly slid in after you and slammed the door shut, grabbing onto the back of the driver’s seat as Tara peeled out of the parking lot.

The silence that followed rang heavy.

Your heart hammered against your chest, your breaths coming out slightly wheezy, almost like there was still some water left in your lungs. You met Tara’s eyes in the rearview mirror before she focused back on the road — you noticed then that the sleeves of her shirt, up to her elbows, were wet.

She’d helped drag your body out of the pool.

You glanced over at Daryl, the archer’s grip on the driver’s seat white-knuckled as he stared at the back of the headrest. Waves of tension rolled off him, the feeling nearly palpable. But his eyes flickered towards you a moment later, as though he felt you watching him, and some of the rigidity faded.

He wordlessly shuffled closer, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the door you leaned against. You were too tired and too sore to object, your body slumping against his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders — you thought for a brief moment that he was hugging you.

But instead, he wound your seatbelt around your body and locked it in place.

Daryl fell back against the seat beside you with a huff, keeping his gaze focused ahead, staring straight through the windshield. He didn’t look at you again — he remained still, like he was carved from stone. You weren’t even sure he was breathing. His arm just barely grazed the side of yours, but despite whatever hidden turmoil was surely happening inside of him, he made no effort to move away.

He needed time to process what happened — what almost happened.

But so did you.

You shifted, closing the small gap between you and resting your head against his shoulder, ignoring the way he stiffened. The material of his shirt was still damp and smelt like a mixture of chlorine and mildew from the murky pool water, but you couldn’t find it in you to pull away either.

You hadn't realized you’d dozed off until the archer gently shook you awake, the car now parked outside Alexandria’s makeshift infirmary.

You still felt weak and lethargic, but you managed to make your way inside without any help — although Daryl, silent and stoic as ever, remained at your side, his hand hovering over the small of your back.

The infirmary was quiet as Denise checked you over — Tara had gone to update Rick and the others on what happened, as well as distribute the supplies you’d managed to bring home. Daryl, on the other hand, paced — back and forth, like a caged animal, on the opposite side of the room. Almost like part of him desperately wanted to run, but a bigger part of himself needed to be there.

“Are you feeling any nausea? Confusion? Loss of basic motor skills?” Denise suddenly asked, breaking the silence that’d stretched on, looking up from the textbook she was reading from. She’d never dealt with an ‘almost drowning’, but had been able to scrounge up some old medical textbooks for help.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, shaking your head once. “No. No, nothing like that.”

“Okay, good. Yeah, that’s good…” she murmured, mostly to herself, before flipping to the next page and skimming the stretch of words. “Besides your forehead, any other lacerations?” she looked up at you once more, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t —” you shot Daryl a look, but he was too busy pacing to notice. “I don’t think so,” you shook your head again, your fingertips ghosting over the bandage Denise had patched your head up with.

“Good, good. We’ll want to keep an eye on that in case of infection,” she informed before flipping to the next page, mouthing the text to herself. “Okay, and any soreness?”

You grimaced as you sat up a little straighter. “Just — just right here mostly,” you admitted, motioning towards your center, below your chest.

Denise shut the textbook and placed it on the metal table you sat on top of. “Can you show me?”

Your brow knitted together but you obliged, sliding off the table and grabbing the hem of your shirt. You fought back a wince as you rolled the material up, stopping just below your chest, exposing your skin.

The first thing you noticed was the way the room suddenly stilled — you glanced up, spotting Daryl standing frozen across the way, pacing no longer. But he wasn’t staring at you — he was staring at your midsection, a look in his eyes you’d never seen before.

When you lowered your head, getting a good look at yourself for the first time, you realized exactly what he was seeing.

Bruises. Dark and discolored. Scattered down your sternum and along the center of your ribcage.

Your head snapped up at the sound of the front door slamming shut.

And Daryl was gone.

You tried to ignore the pinprick of tears that grew, the hurt that settled across your chest as you lowered your shirt back in place — but when Denise suddenly reached out and placed her hand on top of yours, patting it softly, your features crumpled.

Everything that happened seemed to catch up to you in that moment — the fear, the shock, what Daryl must’ve felt pulling your unmoving body out of the water. You’d nearly died. What would’ve happened if he hadn’t been able to bring you back? Would he have been the one to put you down when you undoubtedly turned? Or would Tara have done it — the act far too painful for the man you loved to follow through with.

The man you loved.

Denise wrapped her hand around yours, squeezing gently and drawing you back. “Hey, it’s okay,” she soothed.

You quickly swiped at the tears that slipped down your cheeks, huffing a hitched breath. “I know, I’m just —” you glanced up at the front door, hanging onto the foolish hope that it’d swing open once more. “I don’t know,” you finally mumbled, albeit defeatedly.

Denise followed your gaze, scoffing slightly. “Men suck,” she finally shrugged.

You sniffled softly before shaking your head. “Not that one,” you murmured fondly.

Denise squeezed your hand once more, shooting you a sympathetic smile before she pulled away. “It could’ve been worse — most people who have CPR done on them end up with broken ribs or punctured lungs. You, my friend, are one of the lucky ones.”

You inhaled a deep breath, fighting back a wince, the motion stretching your bruised body. “Thank you. For everything.”

Denise nodded before taking off her glasses, using the hem of her shirt to clean the lenses. “Y/N, I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but,” she paused, sliding her glasses back on as she regarded you seriously. “You smell like a sewer rat.”

You faltered, completely caught off guard by her statement before remembering that you were still wearing damp, swampy, pool water clothes. Then, despite everything, a laugh slipped past your lips, breaking the tension. You let out a hiss as the movement sent a wave of pain through you. “Ow, fuck, don’t make me laugh,” you bit back another chuckle, lightly swatting her arm.

Denise smiled before motioning towards the door. “Go home, shower, get some rest — Doctor’s orders,” she grinned, turning away and beginning to clean up her workstation.

You thanked her again before hobbling out of the infirmary.

As night drew near, most residents of Alexandria were already in their respective homes — you were grateful for that. You didn’t want to see anyone right now, their worry and endless questions something you were more than happy to put off until tomorrow.

When you made it back to the apartment you and Daryl shared, you were, yet again, fighting back feelings of disappointment — he wasn’t home. You felt a pinprick of worry, but knew he needed time and space to process whatever it was he was feeling.

And when he was ready, you would be too.

You walked through the kitchen, the morning you’d shared earlier feeling like a lifetime ago — the pan he’d used to make eggs, now dry, remained sitting on the counter. The bedroom was untouched, looking exactly how it had this morning, just the way you’d left it. You grabbed a fresh set of clothes before making your way into the master bathroom attached, ignoring the bone-deep tiredness settling over you.

Showering was a good call — the warm water rained down as you scrubbed your body of the muck that clung to you, being extra careful not to get the bandage on your head wet or make any sudden movements. When you were finished cleaning up, you stood beneath the shower head for a few minutes, eyes closed, inhaling the steam around you with deep, calming breaths.

You were okay. You were alive. You were here.

You shut off the water, stepped out of the shower, and dried yourself off, gingerly patting down your chest and around your ribs, before slipping into clean clothes. You wiped away some of the steam that’d collected on the bathroom mirror before hanging up your towel, combing out your knotted hair, and brushing your teeth — the same routine you did every night.

The normalcy was soothing — you were already beginning to feel better, more like yourself. You were ready to put what happened behind you and move forward, sure to never take another day for granted.

But when you opened the bathroom door, ready to curl up in bed and doze off, all of your feelings from earlier came rushing back at the sight of Daryl.

Once again, he’d been pacing the length of the bedroom, only stopping after you’d entered the room, his gaze snapping towards you. He shifted his weight back and forth, opening his mouth before clamping it shut. You could feel his energy, rolling off his body in waves — tense, rigid, wild. He was struggling to say whatever was on his mind, only furthering his evident frustration. He flicked his hair away from his eyes, turning to face you head-on, clearly gathering up the gall to speak.

You took a small step forward. “Daryl —”

“Ya were blue,” he suddenly rasped, a fire in his gaze that wasn’t there before. “Tara was shoutin’ for ya an’ I — when I went in an’ pulled ya out, there wasn’t — I didn’t —” he huffed a breath in frustration, his face tinged red. “God, damn it, Y/N, ya were fuckin’ blue,” he finally growled, chest heaving, hands balled into fists at his side.

His anger wasn’t directed at you, but the situation itself, you knew that. But still, his words — or more so the emotion, the truth hidden behind them — had you recoiling from him, your heart breaking at the thought of what he’d seen, of what had run through his mind when he realized you weren’t breathing.

You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been.

And that was what was beneath his outburst — not rage, but fear.

But he wasn’t finished with what he needed to say — if anything, he was just getting more and more worked up as he began to frantically pace once more. “This is why — I fuckin’ told ya — I didn’t need ya comin’ out there. I didn’t need ya on that run but ya — ya didn’t listen ta’ me an’ then —”

“I love you.”

Daryl stilled, mid-stride, his gaze widening as if all of the air had been sucked from his lungs.

You felt your face flush, the air between you so thick it could be cut with a knife. You hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but the words just sort of…tumbled out? And now, there they were, hanging between you. Part of you wondered if the archer could hear your heart pounding from where he stood — or maybe it was his heartbeat, synched up to yours.

You sputtered a soft breath, shaking your head in disbelief, trying not to panic because the last thing you wanted was for Daryl to look at you the way he was looking at you after telling him you loved him. “I’m —“ you took a breath, regarding him earnestly. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. And I promise — I promise — you do not have to say it back. Hell, you don’t even have to feel the same way,” you huffed an awkward laugh, but the noise hitched somewhere in your throat, betraying your words. You grew serious once more. “I just — I couldn’t have another night going by without you knowing. Not after what happened today,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, shrugging a shoulder up meekly. “So, I love you — I love you more than anything.”

You weren’t sure what sort of reaction you were expecting from him. But you absolutely refused to acknowledge the tiny part of you that secretly wished he’d swoop you into his arms, pull you close, tell you he loved you too — because that wasn’t Daryl. That wasn’t the type of man he was — and you were okay with that.

Because you hadn’t fallen in love with that type of man.

You’d fallen in love with the man standing shell-shocked in front of you.

You cleared your throat and stepped forward, moving away from the bathroom doorway. “The shower’s all yours,” you murmured, needing to break the uncomfortable silence that carried on.

You sidestepped around his frozen form, ignoring the way your legs shook like jelly beneath you as you made your way towards the bed. You took a seat on the edge of the mattress, keeping your back towards him, staring ahead at the blank wall in front of you instead.

After what felt like forever, the floorboard squeaked beneath the shifting of his weight, his footsteps growing faint as he slowly walked away and entered the bathroom, closing the door shut after him.

You strained your ears, listening for any movement beyond the door he’d disappeared behind — but you heard nothing. It was like you could feel him through the panel of wood between you — you could almost picture him, just standing there, trying to process whatever the hell was going on inside that mind of his.

A moment later, the shower turned on.

And you released the breath you’d been holding.

Exhaustion swept through you, the day’s events wearing you down. You carefully maneuvered yourself into bed, pulling a thin sheet over your body and settling onto your side. Your eyelids grew heavy, the sound of the shower lulling you to sleep despite the strange, sort of freedom your admittance had brought you, the feeling buzzing through your veins.

You didn’t regret your vulnerability — he needed to know he was loved, damn it.

When you heard the shower turn off, you snapped your eyes shut. You listened to the archer move about the bathroom until the door finally creaked open. He seemed to be just standing there, and you could’ve sworn you felt him staring at the back of your head as if he was gauging whether or not you were actually asleep. But a moment later, you heard his footsteps padding across the bedroom before the mattress dipped beneath him.

You held your breath, covers drawn to your chin as Daryl shifted in bed, eventually lying down beside you. Another beat of quiet passed, neither of you moving, nor breathing it seemed.

But then suddenly, you heard him speak, so softly you almost missed it. “I know ya ain’t sleepin’,” he rumbled.

The corner of your mouth quirked up — because of course he knew.

You sighed, shifting gingerly onto your back, the sheet pooling at your waist as you looked over at him. He laid on his side, facing you, propped up on his elbow. He was dressed in clean clothes, his hair still wet from the shower, pushed back out of his face.

He really was rather beautiful.

“Busted,” you smiled, though the archer’s expression remained solemn.

Ever so gently, he reached towards you, his fingertip grazing the material of your shirt, over your ribcage, below your chest, hovering the bruises that lingered. “Does it hurt?” he rasped, the mouth turned downward into a small frown.

You shook your head. “Not really.”

Daryl’s eyes met yours, his expression skeptical and knowing.

You never were a good liar.

“At least you didn’t break a rib?” you offered sheepishly, your lame attempt at a joke falling flat given the current audience.

But when Daryl’s features fell, a flash of what looked like guilt settling over his face, you placed your hand on top of his, resting them against your stomach. “Don’t do that,” you murmured, reading him like a damn book as you rubbed circles with your thumb over the back of his hand.

The archer grumbled something indistinct, staring down at your intertwined hands.

Your grip tightened around his. “I mean it,” you spoke, an edge to your voice, only softening when he looked at you instead. “You saved my life, D — that’s it. You can let go of anything else you’re holding onto.”

Daryl’s lip twitched as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, seemingly mulling over your words.

You were sure he’d hang onto whatever unnecessary guilt he carried — because that was just who he was — but eventually, he nodded once and settled down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. You were too tired to press the subject further so you curled into his side and rested your head against his chest, winding your arm across his midsection. His arm automatically wrapped around you, his fingertips trailing absently up and down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

You weren’t sure how long you laid like that, melting into the warmth he exuded, the steady pounding of his heartbeat easing you to sleep.

You’d nearly faded away when Daryl suddenly spoke.

“Did ya mean it?” he rumbled, the noise vibrating from deep within his chest. “What ya said before?” he grunted, his hand pausing at the small of your back.

You could’ve imagined it, but you almost felt the slight tremble of his fingertips against your skin.

You slowly pushed up onto your elbow, your faces mere inches apart. You searched his uncertain gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Of course I meant it,” you whispered. “Every damn word.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed, as though not entirely believing what you said could be true.

So you leaned forward, closing the remainder of space between you, and pressed your lips gently against his. He returned the kiss, a quiet desperation growing as one hand came up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb sweeping back and forth across your cheek. You broke away from the kiss, brushing his hair back before meeting his lips once more, settling your hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing beneath your touch.

When you pulled back, you noticed his skin flush, surely mirroring your own. He looked up at you, slightly breathless, a fondness in his gaze that sent your stomach somersaulting. He cleared his throat, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. “Well, alright,” he finally resigned, accepting your answer to his question.

You snorted a breathy laugh, leaning forward and kissing his cheek before burrowing against him. A soft sigh slipped past your lips as Daryl’s hold tightened around you, as though afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t.

You closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of contentment, unsure how many more moments like this you, or anyone else for that matter, had left in this kind of cruel and harrowing world.

But for at least tonight, you could be at peace.

“I love you,” you murmured groggily, beginning to sink deeper into unconsciousness.

Right before sleep came, long after Daryl thought you’d drifted away, you heard him whisper three, simple words.

“More than anythin’.”

Then he pulled you closer and the world dimmed.

A/N: Aw...a happy ending! (I figured I owed ya after putting y'all through Honey & Whiskey lol)

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