#howling tundra–· answered ;

[starryregard]

the Flight Rising dragon breeds as Jerma quotes

Fae: The whole moral of the story is, even little guys- even big guy- little guys got some big stuff in their- in their brains. Guardians: Be my Charge, or take this at least two months' supply of chips. The choice is yours. I stand you will make the correct one. Mirrors: Cheeseburgers? Byeah. Hotdogs? Byeah. Donuts? Byeah. Bar fightin'? Byeah. Bug collections? Byeah. Tundra: AAAUUGH- I forgot I was playing a game and I forgot I was streaming and I forgot I was sitting in a chair and I forgot where I was. Pearlcatchers: Why am I so short? Because God doesn't fucking love me. Ridgebacks: I eat more seafood than fruit. I eat more seafood than dairy, I eat more seafood than flour and bread. I don't eat all these other things, I eat SEAFOOD. Snappers: What would you like to say to the scientist a hundred years from now? Seeing a lot of 'Fuck you's'. Now, this scientist is gonna look at this and be like, 'What- how primitive were they? They must have been very primitive. They, immediately on talking to a potential scientist in the future, went right to vulgarities. Primitive species.' Spirals: If you had a fucking battleaxe and you were gonna try to get me with it, you are NOT gonna get me with it. I'm too fast for you. Way too fast. I am fast as FUCK and I have lightning-like reflexes. Bogsneaks: [crawling out from under a log] ANY SCRAPS FOR ME? Obelisks: This is a, um- this is a smoky… a smoky granite.​ ​Oh, I can tell by the flavor.​ Skydancers: I'm telling ya, I- I can like feel- I can like sense it, I can like sense the world around me. I can like feel the fucking world around me. I think I might be claymation. Clairvoyant. Imperials: 'At least they're handsome'. [chuckles] I appreciate that. Nocturnes: Hello, yes, may I come in your house? Thank you. I'M A VAMPIRE, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT. Coatl: [agitated beatboxing] Wildclaws: What animal do you think I would be? SERIOUS ANSWERS ONLY. I think I'd be a wolf. I would be a wolf-lion hybrid mix. King of the junj- junjle, but still social and with it and ferocious. Aberrations: [10 seconds before being swept into the Wyrmwound] I am as safe as you can possibly be! It's never gonna happen! You'll never dunk me, you fuckers! Fuck all'a ya! It's not gonna ha- Aethers: We're just a bunch of dragons. 'Are you an alien?' …I am. Banescale: Why clean, when you can burn your house down? Gaolers: Global warming? Global warming my ass! Sandsurges: Did somebody say 'next game'? [wind howling in the bg] 'Yeah, let me load up Yakuza'. I'm in the middle of the damn desert, man, what are you talking about? Undertide: There are plenty- plenty- of fish in the sea, you understand? Some of them are small, some of them are big, some of them have- some of them are very mean, some of them'll dump ya. But as you can see, there's plenty of good fish too. Look, you see? There's this fish right here that's VERY good potential, like, spouse material. Veilspun: I'm not tiny, I'm compact!

#flight rising #flight rising meme #flight rising shitpost #sorry for the mild formatting errors tungle dot fuck keeps breaking this post for some reason #mine

[mr-bas00nist]

Can you write where the male reader is helping transport Ethan but then gets attacked and tries to find his way to the others. Chris hears from one of his men that the vehicle that the male reader was in got attacked and he goes out of his way to save you. (This takes place during resident evil village)

HOLY SHIT I HAVE HAD THIS REQUEST FOR AWHILE I THINK MY BAD!

I’ll Always Look For You

Chris Redfield x Male! Reader

Cw! Blood and gore, otherwise SFW

Chris was currently in the training room making sure all his equipment was ready for the treacherous journey to save Ethan up ahead. The other members were doing the same, sparring, practicing their stealth, their marksmanship and more. Everything was going decent, the squad had a set plan and were ready to act on it when the time was right.

You and Tundra were on a mission and it was going well, at least that’s what Chris thought until Lobo rushes in with Tundra leaning on his shoulder injured. “Sir! Lieutenant L/n is nowhere to be seen! We found Tundra from a distress signal!” Chris’s eyes go wide as hears this. Lobo sets Tundra down as Chris moves in front of her. “Tundra you’ve gotta wake up!” Chris snaps in her face as her head lolls around confused.

Chris takes her helmet off as her vision straightens. “S-sir?” She mutters. “Where is Y/n?” Chris says waiting for her answer. She takes a deep breath as she looks around. “Tundra, focus I need you to remember.” Chris has a stern tone even through his worry. “I-I think they t-took him.” She grits her teeth. “I don’t need you to think I need you to know.”

Chris’s lips turn into a thin line. “T-t-they took him.” She nods confirming Chris’s concerns. He sighs. “Who, who took him?” He asks as Tundra continues to breathe shakily. “I can’t remember…” She grits her teeth as her head spins. Chris grabs her collar. “I need you to remember!” He yells making Tundra wince. Canine puts a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “We’ll find him sir, but she needs a moment.”

Chris sighs as he walks away without a word.

He walks over to Umber Eyes and Night Howl. “You two, trace Y/n’s GPS and go from there, call me if you two catch a lead. Understood?” They nod saluting Chris as they quickly run off to complete their task. He sits in his chair with a distant look on his face that was covering up his worry.

A little later Chris gets a call from Umber Eyes. He immediately picks it up as he hears panting and the howl of snow on the other side. “We found tracks! It seems Lieutenant L/n left markings, it looks like paint from our training session!” Chris smiles brightly as he quickly stands up putting his gear on. “Send your coordinates now!” Chris yells as he goes into the main room getting his team ready.

“Everyone gear up they found him!” Chris shouts as everyone immediately begins to get their gear on.

You pant tiredly as the cold air fills up the deep cave your in. Hopefully the snow didn’t cover up your trail. Thankfully you forget to throw out the paint from training a few days ago. You would spray it on the squad as a joke every time they were lacking motivation or slacking off. You breathe shakily as you try to move still holding your side. You had three large scratch marks from the lycans. They appeared out of nowhere and got the best of you. Thankfully you managed to scurry away making sure Tundra did the same, you didn’t get away untouched though.

You look at the fire infront of you as you do your best to not doze off from the blood loss. Bandages could only do so much. Especially when they were limited. You continue to look around the freezing cave making sure no intruders enter it at your worst. Not like you could do much though except shoot and try to not bleed out.

After a little bit the grasp of sleep began to pull you down. You could barely keep your eyes open, until you heard a familiar voice. “Y/n!” It shouted. That deep smooth voice, that could only be one person if your ears weren’t deceiving you. You slowly open your eyes to see Chris with his gear on and his squad behind him. You give a quick bloodied smile.

The squad quickly begins to heal you bringing you over to the truck as Chris reassured you with love and care. Your head was on his lap as you continued to glance up at him as he ordered the team around. You give a small smile before falling asleep safely in his arms.

You soon wake up in a bed as the beam of morning sun blasts your eyes. You groan tiredly as you sit up holding your ribs in pain. Chris immediately perks up as he sees you awake. You look at him with a smile as he quickly hugs you. “Jesus Christ don’t ever scare me like that again!” He says hugging you as you wince at his grip.

“You know I can’t make any promises….” You laugh a little reciprocating the hug. He sighs with a smile as he shakes his head.

“I know, but a man can dream.”

#chris redfield x male reader #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield #resident evil x reader #resident evil

[kovacs-of-courage]

A Time eclipse AU drabble

-----December 5th, 12,000 B.C.E-----

-----------Late Ice Age-------------

Time rasped, putting his weight against the trunk of a birch tree; it’s ash bark as white as the snow piled to his knees.

He put two leather-clad fingers to his bruised temple, a thunderous ringing slamming between his ears. It was an earthquake within his mind, the reminder of all he’d failed, and all that he now had to overcome.

Hyrule, his home, was gone--and by all rights so should he.

But he’s alive, by the goddesses he was alive.

Time fought back the cascading emotions of his hours-new remembrance, gritting his teeth as the scars of his first body etched themselves anew on his earthy form. He’d been struggling with the symptoms of his revived consciousness for as long as he’d regained it; barely making the miles walk back to his tribe’s encampments.

How would they view him now? Their leader returning from a foraging trip half-blind and scarred, a shadow of his former strength?

If he’d taught them anything--hopefully nothing at all.

Time winced; abject darkness overtaking his whitening eye, the emblazoned touch of the deity scaring onto his soul once again. He tried to avoid the thought of if he too made the breach; ignorance was bliss.

He grunted, straightening his shoulders despite the pain. He was more then his scars, more then his memories, his tribe nee-

“Watch out!”

Time swiveled to his rearward, reacting on instinct, too preoccupied to digest who was speaking to him. It was a futile effort though, as seven hundred fifty pounds of arctic feline crashed into him like a freight train from hell. They tumbled through the alaskan detritus, a snarling roar rumbling the frozen tundra.

He was on his back now, his hands in an iron grip around both of the saber tooth’s arms, a mask of stoic determination overtaking his adrenalined shock. The tiger struggled and squirmed in his grasp, unused to it’s mauling victims surviving the first gouging, or gouging attempt in this case.

Time’s move, however bold, was temporary at best. It was a miracle he wasn’t stricken immobile by the sheer force of the charging tackle. He wasn’t surprised, it’s not like he hadn’t survived worst.

“Hey, listen! It’s fangs are more brittle then they look, try attacking them with your gauntlets.”

*Navi?*

The gauntlets were a point of confusion too, given that he was stripped of his gear; answered justly when sheets of hammered metal and gold began manifesting around his forearms; emerging like crying tears from rippling air. They wrapped him in ribbons of molten light, their fiery embers coming right off the forges of their creation.

Okay then.

Uncapped strength surged within the forsaken hero, the thrashing predator atop him feeling lighter then a paperweight. He grabbed the Saber’s right fang, the ruby at the center of his gauntlets aglow--

He flicked his wrist right, snapping off eight inches of prehistoric bone from it’s source with unprecedented ease. 

Howling in pain, the saber thrashed it’s unhooked claw at Time--It tried to at least. A rising uppercut hit from below, fracturing it’s bottom jaw in a spiderwebbing cracks. 

The saber, now whimpering, scampered off Time; fleeing into the wilderness.

Time sighed, putting a hand to his chest.

“Stow the yawn, hero. You’re still on the clock.”

A flicker of blue light swam into his vision, impatiently hovering in place; their presence unabashed. A few thoughts struck Time’s mind, all in rapid succession--

Was this real? Was he having a stroke? Had he died again?

Normal things to consider, given he hadn’t seen his friend in over two and a half decades.

“I-..I-” Time stuttered, unable to find the words.

“Save it. We’ll talk whys and hows later, I’m just as confused as you are--but I do know that your tribe is in a heap of trouble, and they need your help.”

Time shook his head, trying to shake his bafflement.

“Our help, you mean. We’re a team, remember?”

Navi paused, a dozen regrets chasing her hurried mind.

“Of course..my mistake. We fight together, Link, ere the end,” Navi said, wistful melancholy infecting her tone.

Time nodded. “Then lead the way, the stage is yours,” Time said.

“Good. We don’t have a moment to lose.”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #fanfic #short fic #drabble #oneshot #lu time #navi #action #he gets his memories back #eclipse au #lu navi #linked universe fanfic #linked universe time #time linked universe #angst #hurt/comfort #kovac fic

[martyrbat]

the snow queen

| pt. 1 | next

(ID below cut)

[ID: Part one of a short story featuring Batman. The first image is the cover, announcing the title as 'The Snow Queen'. There's a snowflake and ice skates behind the text. The rest of the story is narrated like a storybook and will be transcribed (hopefully) as smoothly as possible instead of divided per image:

Once Upon a Crime... there was a man lost in a storm. And another who searched for him. Each step became a burden. Each inch forward, a promise. The Batman would continue for as long as he could hold out. But nature was relentless. And she was winning. Batman has his cape and arms wrapped around himself in a futile attempt to block the merciless elements. He walks away from the Batmobile, the snow coming up to his knees as a harsh wind blows his cape behind him. He continues through the snow, growing weaker and weaker until he collapses.

Until she appeared. A radiant glow of serene grace. A royal lady in white, dressed in soft fur and crowned in crystal. The Snow Queen. The ethereal woman stands before Batman. She offers him her hand as he looks up at her in a silent awe. The narration continues, As she approached, the white surface remained undisturbed. She helped him to her carriage. Where her faithful transport patiently waited to depart. He lets himself be guided to her reindeer led carriage and settles into it, the Snow Queen sitting beside him.

As he trembled, she smiled. Not uncaring, but with kindness. The cold air chilled him. His breathing became more labored. Unable to continue, he exhaled, allowing his breath to escape. Batman's head is slightly downcast as he breathes through his mouth. Each struggling breath is suspended in the air as a long vapor. It trails all the way back to his exposed mouth as The Snow Queen looks ahead with a frown. The narration continues, But swiftly, she retrieved it with a delicate touch. Offering it back to him, warm and in full. Restoring what was, so he could continue. She has her hand extended near him as the transparent cloud now surrounds Batman's mouth. He picks his head up with the gift of life, having the strength to look ahead once more. He looks over his shoulder briefly as his car gets further and further away.

Leaving his vehicle, he could not go back. For she needed him for something else. He soon forgot what he left behind. His only concern... what lay ahead. - 'Where are we going?' he asked. "We are searching," she answered. "For what?" he wondered. And she replied, "A cold hand to hold."

The carriage continues through the bare trees and across the icy tundra. Wolves howl on a cliffside above their heads as the narration continues, Faster they raced, over land and lake, across snow and ice. The cold wind roared, the wolves howled, and the birds screamed above. But the Batman was not afraid."

END ID]

#this is one of my favourites and something i been wanting to share for a while :) hopefully you all enjoy it as much as i do !! #and i hope it's transcribed in a way that's smooth and doesnt take away from the flow of the story :) #i try to id all my posts to be accessible so this made the most sense to me so it could still be accessible and to be able to share it :) #it has 4 parts which ill edit and link to once all are up :) unless ur seeing this from the future. then o hi <3 #it has 4 parts which ill edit and link to once all are up :) unless ur seeing this from the future. then hi <33 #c: batman tales: once upon a crime | the snow queen #crypt's panels #batman #transcrypts

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

Skies goes with the Vault Hunters to a wedding, where she meets and old...acquaintance.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Guns, Love, and Tentacles Part 1

“...then loop it down and pull it tight. There.”

“Yeah...I don’t think this is right.”

Skies looks down at the tie tied into a twisted knot around her neck.

“Hm, well, it worked for me,” Rhys says from her ECHO communicator. “I guess it’s easier to do than to explain.”

“I’ll just get Moxxi to tie it for me,” Skies decides as she undoes the knot. “She must know how to tie a tie.”

“You’re pretty excited about this whole thing,” he comments.

“Of course!” she cheers, “it’s the first time I’ve ever been invited to a wedding, and I’m not just crashing it to kill the bride or groom for a scorned ex. I’m actually friends with both grooms!”

Rhys chuckles. “Well, go enjoy yourself. And call me when it’s over.” “Talk later,” Skies chimes before cancelling the call. Then she grabs her gun holster with her Jakobs pistol- Golden Horizons, gifted to her by Wainwright- and her trench coat and leaves the Sky Rider. She steps out into the cargo hold of Sanctuary III and heads up the stairs.

She makes her way up to Moxxxi’s, where Moxxi and Timothy are sitting at the bar, chatting. They both look up as she enters.

“Look at you, all dressed up,” Timothy remarks.

Skies giggles as she spins, showing off her simple two-piece black suit. “It’s my first actual wedding. I gotta dress up.”

“You look lovely, sugar,” Moxxi agrees.

“Thanks, Mox,” she replies and motions to her loose tie. “Could you tie this for me?”

Moxxi clears her throat and points to her tip jar. Skies rolls her eyes and drops in a couple hundreds. “Nothing for free, huh.”

“I am a business woman,” Moxxi replies and ties Skies’ tie. As she finishes, the ship suddenly lurches.

“I think we’re here,” Skies says.

“What’s the planet again?” Timothy asks.

“Xylourgos,” she replies, “some kind of frozen wasteland on the edge of the galaxy. Sounds like fun.”

“Well, try not to get into too much trouble.”

“It’s Wainwright and Hammerlock’s wedding,” Skies points out, “it’ll be impossible not to.”

She waves as she leaves the bar and heads back down to the cargo hold. Moze, Zane, Amara, and FL4K are waiting for her at the drop ship.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late for the party,” Moze points out.

“It’s always good to be fashionably late,” Skies retorts.

They climb into the drop ship and Ellie sends it off to the dark planet below. They break through the atmosphere and crash onto snow covered rocks in the middle of an icy tundra.

“Ugh, god,” Skies groans as they tumble out of the wreckage. “I don’t know why we just don’t take my ship.”

“This the place?” Zane questions.

“We’re outside town, I think,” Amara replies.

“It’s quiet,” FL4K observes.

“Hang on, I’ll try calling them,” Skies says and grabs her communicator. “Hammerlock? Wainwright? We’ve landed outside town but there’s no party. Hello?” There’s no answer. “Huh. No signal maybe? Guess we’re walking.”

They pass through an icy cavern onto a snowy path. As they walk along, cold wind blows around them and animalistic howling can be heard echoing in the distance.

“Good thing I brought my coat,” Skies remarks as she tightens it around her.

They continue on until they reach a wide tundra and in the distance, rising against the dim blue sky, is a giant monster corpse the size of a mountain.

“Yowza, look at the size of that thing!” Skies exclaims.

“I hope it’s dead,” Amara adds, “unless I get to kill it, in which case I hope it’s not.”

“I don’t know what it is, and I don’t like looking at it,” Zane remarks.

“What manner of hunter took it down?” FL4K muses.

“This is one helluva wedding destination,” Moze comments.

They continue through the tundra when they see a shuttle plummet from the sky just ahead and a distress call rings through all of their ECHOs. “Crap, crap, crap, craaap! Hold together, dammit!”

“Hey...I know that voice...” Skies muses.

“Hey! Who’s out there?!” the voice continues, “get away from my pod! Do NOT mess with me- I am a licensed wedding planner! I have got the certificate from the ECHOnet course right here!”

“Wedding planner?” FL4K questions.

“Come on!” Skies orders and they hurry through the tundra to the crashed ship. When they get there, they find someone fighting off a hoard of crazed attackers.

“They’re under attack!” Moze exclaims as they ready their weapons.

“Oh, good, crazed lunatics,” Skies remarks, “and me with only one pistol.”

“You only brought one pistol?” Zane questions.

“It didn’t feel appropriate to bring a Hyperion pistol and an Atlas assault rifle to a Jakobs wedding,” she replies, “but, come on, you guys know me. All I need is one pistol.”

She draws her gun and immediately leaps into action. The blade extends from her robot fist as she punches an enemy in the stomach then shoots him through the temple. A couple of goons come up from behind her, but she spins and slices their necks with her forearm blade. The Vault Hunters split up around her, firing at the other attackers.

As the crowd starts to thin down, Skies tackles a guy to the ground, driving her fist blade through his skull while shooting a couple others. She turns around to look for more and comes face-to-face with a big, killer robot.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, putting up her hands as it glares at her with its burning red eye. The Vault Hunters immediately take aim. “Hold, guys!” she demands.

“Deathtrap, heel!”

Skies lowers her hands as the robot backs off next to its master. “I knew I recognized that voice...”

She stares with astonishment at the familiar young girl with a robot arm- now a young woman. “Gaige...”

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #guns love and tentacles #borderlands au #borderlands fanfiction #myocs #myart

[12colors-classpects]

There is a stillness in the tundras and their frozen-over lakes' dawn, the evergreen trees covered in fresh dustings of snow heaped upon by politely howling blizzards the night before. Some creature sleep deeply, others scurry frantic to find food traveling betwixt shelters, and others yet still huddle around the wellkept hearth. They all wait for the next dawn to break spring; but, for today, the dawn only greets the winter cabin's northern face with another frosting of

Rime

Narrative Function

Rime is the aspect of anticipation. It is measured in the interval between bated breaths. It governs the build up of tension, shaping those that suffer under longer nights toward holding a greater longing for the dawn, and those under longer winters to smuggle seeds of hope against starvation for long-off spring. The aspect of Rime is a harsh and harrowing waiting game of chicken, uncle, six-piece roulette.

In its' secondary function, Rime is the aspect of harsh logical calculus: it is moved not by passionate emotions not flowery language; but by true predicates, valid arguments, and sound conclusions.

Player Tendencies

Rime players tend towards cool calculating personalities and quick immediately rationalizable actions: They do not flaunder faced with a trolley problem, and choose immediately and without hesitation what they believe to be the most correct, or least incorrect answer, even and sometimes especially if it means pulling the lever that condemns their best friend to death for a greater good or more aptly, a lesser evil.

Powers

Literal: Manipulation of Ice Metaphorical: Dramatic Suspense, Investigation Rational: Tempature suppression, Irrational: Remote viewing, Time dilation

#homestuck #classpect #fan aspect

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Howl [Introduction] Warm Welcome [Lycan Karl Heisenberg or Chris Redfield]

A/n: this short is an alternate universe type featuring Lycan Chris and Heisenberg. It is an either-or romance. Please choose one and enjoy. Or read both paths, if you prefer.

Warning(s): female reader (codename Rook), Lycan Chris and Heisenberg, gore and blood, shameless smut.

Rumors pour out of a remote European village about something supernatural haunting the spruce forest bordering its lands. And upon seeing it firsthand, you have no doubts about the authenticity of the rumors. The forest is ominous.

The long thin branches on the trees reach out to you as the Hilux tears ass down a worn-out road towards the village in question. Your team is ready to investigate but honestly, you don't expect to find much. The rumors are too ridiculous. The locals claim that large beasts are terrorizing them. You don't believe in monsters, but you do agree that there is something supernatural about the spruce forest. It calls to you.

"Hey Rook!"

You come to reality and turn away from the backseat window, raising a brow as you look at Lobo. He stares at you in curiosity from the passenger seat.

"Are you okay? I called your name twice," he asks.

Did he?

You hum.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just staring at the forest. It's mesmerizing."

Tundra snorts and nudges your side.

"Someone has tree madness," She jokes.

You crack a grin.

"We're screwed then. I'm the team's only medic."

"Perhaps there's some truth to what the villagers are experiencing," Lobo mentioned.

You doubt it.

"Monsters don't exist. They probably drank polluted water and are hallucinating," You state.

"That's what we're here to find out," Chris announces, peeking through the rearview mirror at you. "If you're right, Rook, then the villagers need immediate medical attention."

He's right. But then why did he instruct them to bring the big guns? You ignore the nagging dread in the back of your mind, glancing over your shoulder to check up on Umber Eyes and Night Howl in the bed of the truck.

"There's a question I've been curious about since I joined the squad," You bring up as you turn back around. "I understand the reason for the codename, but why doesn't mine match the theme?"

"You could be called Pup," Canine answers.

He has a point.

"We're here," Chris announces.

All jokes aside, you are ready. This mission is the first with the Hound Wolf Squad and you want desperately to make a good impression on the captain. You plan to give it your all.

Once the truck is parked in the clearing, the squad piles out and gathers near the back. Umber Eyes opens the tailgate, and you gather your gear. Your weapon of choice is the Dragoon, but you honestly don't feel like you will need it.

"Listen up!" Chris shouts. "Rook, Canine, and I will go down into the village and investigate. Comms are open, so keep the chatter to a minimum."

You nod, shouldering the strap of your med bag. Keeping your weapon close, you follow behind Canine and Chris as the latter leads you down a muddy path into the village. But to your horror, the place was deserted. You widen your eyes.

"What happened here?"

The houses are in tatters as if someone or something had torn the foundations asunder. But there are no people nor bodies around to know for sure what became of the villagers.

"Split up and search around. There has to be something here," Chris orders.

You walk towards a house with the door missing. Claw marks mar the frame, an unusual clue. Did an animal tear through it? An air of dread consumes you as you dare to take another step.

However, you hear a guttural noise from above you, and before you can react something large and covered in hair leaps down on you and knocks you to the ground. Its rotten breath hits you like a ton of bricks as it snaps its teeth at you. The thing is heavy. You can barely keep it from crushing you.

"Get off!" You shout.

A shot rings out as a bullet pierces the beast in the arm. It leaps off you and snarls at Chris as he aims. But the beast it too quick. It lunges at Chris and knocks him down, sinking its sharp teeth into his shoulder, its claws rip through his vest and into his skin. He shouts on in pain, a horrifying noise.

You push off the ground, aiming your gun at it. Shot after shot pelts his back, but it doesn't budge. What are you to do? Fuck!

"Lift it!" Canine shouts as he comes running towards you.

Chris manages to push the beast off him, and Canine takes a shot, piercing its head. Ribbons of blood spray the muddy snow and the beast slumps to the side, dead.

You pant in exhaustion. What in the hell is it? Averting your eyes to Chris, you rush to his side. He looks rough. The bite mark on his shoulder is a bloody mess and the skin on his chest is torn to pieces.

"Hold on sir. I need to––"

A piercing howl echoes around the village interrupting you and moments later several more follow. Are there more of them? It took an entire clip and a shot to the head to take the beast down.

Canine leans down and grabs Chris's uninjured arm, lifting him onto his feet.

"Help me out," he orders. "We have to get him to a secure location so you can tend to his wounds before he bleeds out."

You nod and ease the other arm around your shoulders. Chris groans in pain, but it isn't like you have much of a choice.

"Bear with us, sir," you urge him.

Hastily you and Canine rush up the road towards the truck. But as you near the clearing, a beast lunges out onto the path.

"Into the forest! Hurry!" Canine shouts.

You turn and rush into the forest. The snow is hard and crunches beneath your boots as you navigate blindly. Where are the others?

"Night Howl, come in. We need assistance," You call into the headpiece on your helmet.

But there is only static. You hope the squad is okay.

"W-what are those things?" You ask.

"Ask me later when I've had time to process this shit," Canine answers.

Fair enough. You don't even know what is going on. But whatever those things are, they are hot on your trail.

You peek at Chris humming in dismay. He looks like he's in excruciating pain. A sheen of sweat covers his face as he focuses on running through the snow.

"It's going to be––"

Before you can finish your foot catches something in the snow and you tumble hard to the ground.

Thank goodness you didn't drag Chris down with you.

Peeking down near your feet to see what you fell over, you gasp in horror as you notice a frozen hand sticking out of the snow. Three of the fingers are missing, gnawed completely off.

"There's a body beneath the snow," you utter.

"We'll worry about it later. Come on Rook, they're coming," Canine orders.

He's right.

You stand up and ease Chris's arm around your shoulders again.

Further, into the forest, you notice an opening in the tree line ahead. But as you and Canine pass it, the newly discovered path forks, heading in two directions. It's nearly impossible to see what lies ahead beyond the growth of trees in the distance, but what is certain is that neither way seems to spread doom.

"Fuck! Where do we go?" You ask.

Canine growls.

"I don't have a fucking clue."

Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest. As the sound of heavy footsteps grows closer a sense of panic consumes you.

Left or right?

What do I do?

#resident evil #karl heisenberg #chris redfield #resident evil fanfiction #alternate universe #karl heisenburg x reader #chris redfield x reader

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

Wolves run on their toes, which helps them to stop and turn quickly and to prevent their paw pads from wearing down.

Wolves have about 200 million scent cells. Humans have only about 5 million. Wolves can smell other animals more than one mile (1.6 km) away.

A male and female that mate usually stay together for life. They are devoted parents and maintain sophisticated family ties.

Under certain conditions, wolves can hear as far as six miles away in the forest and ten miles on the open tundra.

Immense power is concentrated in a wolf’s jaw. It has a crushing pressure of nearly 1,500 pound per square inch (compared with around 750 for a large dog). The jaws themselves are massive, bearing 42 teeth specialized for stabbing, shearing, and crunching bones. Their jaws also open farther than those of a dog.

The North American gray wolf population in 1600 was 2 million. Today the population in North America is approximately 65,000. The world population is approximately 150,000.

A hungry wolf can eat 20 pounds of meat in a single meal, which is akin to a human eating one hundred hamburgers.

Biologists have found that wolves will respond to humans imitating their howls. The International Wolf Center in Minnesota even sponsors “howl nights” on which people can howl in the wilderness and hope for an answering howl.

The smallest wolves live in the Middle East, where they may weigh only 30 pounds. The largest wolves inhabit Canada, Alaska, and the Soviet Union, where they can reach 175 pounds.

Unlike other animals, wolves have a variety of distinctive facial expressions they use to communicate and maintain pack unity.

The last wolf in Yellowstone Park was killed in 1926. In 1995, wolves were reintroduced and, after just ten years, approximately 136 wolves now roam the Park in about 13 wolf packs.

http://facts.randomhistory.com/interesting-facts-about-wolves.html

We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be –the mythologized epitome of a savage ruthless killer – which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourself.

- Farley Mowat, Never Cry Wolf

[prythianfm]

to  the  stars  who  listen  and  the  dreams  that  are  answered  —  welcome  to  prythianfm  !  please  review  our  checklist  and  report  to  your  high  lord  within  the  next  twenty - four  hours.  the  following  character(s)  and  faceclaim(s)  are  now  closed  for  application:

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .   the  continent  welcomes  HAYAL DURMAZ  of  THE WINTER COURT,  the EMISSARY of  THE WINTER COURT.   when  the  HIGH FAE  is  glamoured, she bear(s)  a  resemblance  to  AYCA AYSIN TURAN.   the  PHYSICAL  30  /  560  year  old  CIS WOMAN  is  reputed  to  be  PRAGMATIC  and  SKILLFUL,  but  a  decade  of  war  has  left  them  CALCULATIVE  and  CUNNING.   if  created  by  the  cauldron,  they  would  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  THE BITE OF A HARSH HOWLING WINTER WIND WHERE YOU FOUND YOUR SELF; A SILVER TONGUE WIELDED WITH SHARP WIT IS JUST AS EFFECTIVE AS A BLADE TO PROTECT ONES OWN, THE SNOW THAT DRIFTS ACROSS A FROZEN TUNDRA ALWAYS WANDERING HOME .   whispers  throughout  prythian  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  THE WINTER COURT,   where  they  conspire  to  DEFEND THE WINTER COURT AND BROKER STRONGER TIES TO HELP IT THIVE.   (  eden,   28,   est,   she/her.   )     *  adrius’  emissary  wc

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .   the  continent  welcomes  ALTHEA NIAN  of  THE MORTAL LANDS,  the  SINGER & SEAMSTRESS  of  DAWN COURT.   when  the  MORTAL  is  glamoured,    she   bear(s)  a  resemblance  to  NI NI.   the  THIRTY  year  old  FEMALE  is  reputed  to  be  BENEVOLENT  and  CHARITABLE,  but  a  decade  of  war  has  left  them  FORGETFUL  and  QUIXOTIC.   if  created  by  the  cauldron,  they  would  be  made  in  the  likeness  of  VIVID TRANQUIL DREAMS DISPLAYING FRAGMENTS OF A LIFE ALREADY LIVED , A LOST STAR TRYING TO LIGHT UP THE DARK SKY AT THE DEPTH OF DESPAIR , SHADOWS UNEARTHED BENEATH TROUBLED EYES , A VOICE ANGELIC AND SOFT TRANSPORTING TO A WORLD OF PEACE ABOVE THE CLOUD.   whispers  throughout  prythian  claim  that  their  allegiance  lies  with  THE MORTALS,   where  they  conspire  to  SURVIVE AND LIVE A LIFE FILLED WITH MEANING AND PURPOSE .   (  diana,   25+,   cet,   she/her.   )     *  amiery  whang’s  first  love  wc

#accepted

[lydiathane]

Prompt #7: Pawn

A serene light turns snow to gold on a particularly blustery morning on the tundra. Trees heave and bend with the weight of the ice glazing their boughs, sending crisp crackles with every slight shake and jostle of the wind. Overhead, streaked clouds race fast and sweeping tracks through a painted sky toward the horizon. Dawn breaks in defiance of the storm that whipped through overnight in darkness, revealing a landscape that still quivers, but none so much as the armored car nestled against a rock face serving as a windbreak. Even on treads, the carriage of the vehicle twitches with motion, bouncing not with the gusts outside, but motion within.

-

Heavy breathing fills the humid interior, the only sound of life over the grumble of the motor. A middle-aged man with the bulk and muscle of an honest laborer reclines in the back seat with his eyes closed in respite, running a hand through the thick, black tangle under his chin that’s gone unshorn since they set out on this venture weeks ago. His companion swings her tawny legs over his lap and dismounts, coming to rest next to him in a spent slump.

“I haven’t been fucked like that since the last time I was getting ready to die,” Lydia offers, and surely it’s meant as a joke, but the delivery doesn’t quite lift her voice above a flat, raspy murmur. Silence greets her awkward attempt at levity. It stretches so long without answer that she finally turns her glance over at Arius to read his reaction more directly. “No...? You’re right, wasn’t very funny,” she concedes at his lack of expression.

“Stop doing that,” he responds plainly. It’s not annoyance, per se; she’d come to provoke his ire intentionally a number of times, but this disapproval was subtly different enough to cut short the smart-assed remark lined up behind the first and force her to actually listen. “Just...stop talking. Enjoy a moment for once without saying something to make it less vulnerable. Don’t say anything at all.”

She rolls her head forward and stares at the back of the seat ahead, slowly tugging the grey waffle-knit over her bare breasts, just one layer of what feels like a thousand in such an unforgiving environment. The breathing slows and soon it’s only the hum of machinery and the howl of arctic winds pounding to get in. The man’s chiding doesn’t last; he reaches over to take her hand and spares her a look of acknowledgement, as though to say, See? Isn’t that better?

“People like me...” She begins again, this time with a different level of candor. “We’re used to being tools. The person who does what needs doing. I’m a mammet, you know? Wind me up, give me a purpose, and I’ll do it until I break down.” There’s a long pause, hesitation that is unusual for someone who normally fires and forgets. “Every time I’ve been off the clock and left to my own devices, it’s a disaster. I get a notion in my head of doing things differently, and that’s the beginning of the end. I’m not a thinker, I just want a fucking purpose. And I hope...” Her mouth presses together in time with the hitch in her voice. “I just hope you’re right about all of this.”

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #lydia #in under the gun!!!

[ainews]

The cold and desolate landscape of the Arctic may seem like an unlikely place for paranormal creatures to exist, but for centuries, legends have persisted of werewolves roaming the frozen tundra. While the scientific community may dismiss these reports as mere superstition, there may be a more logical explanation for the werewolf phenomenon: ice.

In recent years, scientists have made a surprising discovery about ice, the solid form of water. They have found that it contains a substance called humic acid, a key component of humus. This may seem like a peculiar connection, but humic acid plays a crucial role in the disengagement of werewolves.

According to folklore, werewolves are humans who transform into fearsome wolf-like creatures during a full moon. But what causes this transformation? The answer lies in the werewolf's genetic makeup and their exposure to certain substances, one of which is humic acid.

Humic acid can be found in soil and decaying organic matter, such as leaves and plants. When ice forms, it traps tiny particles of these substances, creating a concentrated amount of humic acid. When a werewolf comes into contact with this ice, the humic acid can seep into their bloodstream, triggering a transformation.

But why would humic acid have this effect on werewolves? Scientists believe that the acid reacts with the werewolf's genetic structure, activating dormant genes that cause the transformation. It's a similar process to the way certain drugs or chemicals can alter human DNA and result in unpredictable effects.

The discovery of humic acid in ice sheds new light on the mystery of werewolves. It not only explains how the transformation occurs, but it also provides a scientific basis for the legends and folklore surrounding these creatures. And as climate change continues to melt the Arctic ice, the risk of encountering a werewolf may increase.

So the next time you hear a howl in the distance on a cold winter's night, it may be wise to steer clear of any ice formations. After all, you never know when a werewolf may be lurking just beneath the surface.

#ai generated #fake news

[damaskrose345]

"We Will Be Warm"

If you find this letter, I am dead, and our God and Devil turned out to be one and the same.  

I lost count of the prayers and pleas we had amassed for the Lord. So much wasted breath employed in begging a deaf deity for deliverance, so much finite vitality spent beseeching God to pass us away from that darkness and into the light— that of the grave or rescue, it mattered not to our frost-addled souls. We only wanted warmth, and if that warmth could only be found under pilings of soil, then let it be. All of our energy, that precious ambrosia that, once lost, can never be recovered, was blasted away in barren begging. We knew no heroes would break through the ice like Christ resurrected. As we starved and shivered, huddled tight in flocks of wind-worn leather, blistered flesh, and vacant voids of hopeless eyes, we knew this place was far beyond God’s reach.

Sun dogs refracted above our frames, washing us in sunlight devoid of true heat. It bore down like the eye of a cruel beholder, some verily depraved spectre who saw us rotting upon the floes of ice and took amusement in the scene, showering us with false warmness so that we could delude ourselves into feeling its kiss upon our skin, only to glance down through frosted lashes at where such a kiss was placed, and see a patchwork of stony flesh numb to all sense. Skin so mangled by the cold that it mocks you, unfeeling as iron and the color of pitch, of the coals that haunted our frigid dreams. We dreamt so viciously of heat that it became a part of our bodies, even as our souls glaciated. 

A small boy, having not even graced his thirteenth year, lay beside me one night on the tundra. The others were scattered about the site. Some were dead, some, one could not tell. But all was silent, save for the savage howl and snarl of wind and the laborious breathing of our cadaverous camp. The boy was pressed to my side. I could feel him shiver. I could feel every shaking breath he took. I could practically feel the life seeping out of him as the endless night marched on, forging ever onward across the wasteland, the moon the only lantern to be found. 

The silence broke. The boy’s voice creaked past his rocklike lips. 

“Is heaven this cold?” he whispered. The wind nearly stole his words from me, but I heard him well. 

I hardly possessed the spirit to answer. “No,” was all I could reply. 

Another lapse of iron silence. I awaited the boy’s next question. I knew he had one. All children are curious; even the frozen reaper could not change that. 

After an age, he spoke once again. “Will God warm us when we die?” he asked. 

My eyes were fixed on the sweep of stars above. They glimmered freely, for no cloud was there to bury them. One vastness above, one below. I knew no warmth existed in the open wild of space, yet I did not believe any wildness could be more desolate than the tundra. 

My tongue blotted at my lips vainly, trying to wet them so that my words did not share our fate. “Yes,” I told the boy softly, weakly. “The stars. They are warm. God puts us among them like….” Exhaustion leadened my mind, but I battled. “A hearth. We will be warm.” 

 Frost clung to my lashes. I would have wept, but my tears had been hardened to stones within my face. I watched the stars dance and scamper like children across the inky sky. Then, an interloping figure broke into my vision. It rose slowly, ever so slowly, and swayed in the same manner as a tree in a storm. The small branches of the tree emerged, curled and trembling. The trunk was wrapped in old leather and wool frayed by exposure, and with a sick wrenching of my gut, I realized whose arm I gazed at. 

The boy reached up to the stars. Against the backdrop of the heavens, I was reminded of just how delicate his frame was. How young. How moribund.

His fingers did not grasp at the sight in the way an infant might do so for its mother. He could not, for such a meager action would cause his fingers to snap clean off. No, he could not. He kept his arm raised high with his little hand edged in black. 

I know not when, but I eventually drifted into sleep. 

In the morning, when I awoke like a corpse recalled to life, the first thing my eyes beheld was the arm of the boy, remaining in its stretch towards the sky. His hand was virginal white and pallid blue, his fingertips the color of onyx. I looked at the boy’s face and saw only a youthful face leached of all life and hue. His eyes were closed, tucked into slumber behind his frosted lashes. He was dead. 

Myself and a handful of the surviving men spent the following day burying the child. Had we possessed our usual strength, the affair would have been done in less than an hour, but death loomed over us all, and thus one child’s burial cost us one full day. The grave was shallow, and as we laid the boy into the hardened earth, an obstacle appeared before us. 

The boy’s arm. 

It remained upright as it had been when he died and was all but cemented that way by the elements. The grave, I recall, was not deep enough to cover the child without all of him lying completely flat. The arm had to be lowered to entirely bury him. We had to either snap the arm to settle it or bury what we could and embark further on toward the mainland. 

I reached towards the corpse, clasping my own frostbitten fingers around the arm. It was so thin, I remember, so fragile like the wing of a songbird. I imagined the splintering crack breaking it would create, a sound that would echo in my mind for all my days remaining. I could not do it. I released the boy from my grasp, affirmed my fellow undertakers, and covered the small boy with snow and gravel. 

God forgive me. God forgive my cowardice and my cruelty. We left the boy as he died, arm eternally reaching up towards the high heavens and the God who was not here. There was no marker upon his grave, only a frail arm sprouting from the snow like a lily. 

The arm watched us as we turned and staggered across the wasteland, and each time I turned back to cast another look, it kept shrinking until, at last, when I turned, it had vanished entirely into the white nothingness of the tundra. 

My heart is heavy as I write this. My mind is forever preyed upon by the image of the child’s dead hand and the horrific sound of the mercy I could have shown had I simply snapped it. But mercy does not exist in this place. As I write this, I know my time on this earth is swiftly coming to an end, and I hope only that my final words to that boy ring true. 

I pray God will put us among the stars when we finally pass. 

I pray God will warm us. 

I pray we will be warm.  

#aspiring author #gothic writing #horror #original post #original work #writers on tumblr #writing #arctic #antarctica #exploration #halloween #female author #fiction #historical #historical fiction #original horror #winter #snow #arctichorror #dark history

[fiulo]

📖 The Riddle of Fortune: 'As we stumbled upon the rumored giant mysterious glowing rune, my Uncle Yuri and I could hardly contain our excitement. The biting cold of the tundra had been a formidable opponent, but the prospect of prosperity and good fortune had been our guiding star. As we stood before the rune, a mysterious short man materialized before us, his eyes twinkling with an enigmatic light.

"You've traveled far, I presume, to seek the blessings of the rune?" the short man inquired, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. My uncle nodded firmly, his eyes never leaving the mesmerizing glow. "Very well," continued the man, "but to unlock its power, you must first solve my riddle. Fail, and you shall leave empty-handed." We exchanged nervous glances but agreed to the challenge. With a sly grin, the man posed his riddle: "What has a heart that doesn't beat?" We pondered the question, our minds racing through countless possibilities. Finally, inspiration struck, and I whispered my answer to the short man. His eyes widened in surprise, and with a nod of approval, he stepped aside. As we stood before the rune, its radiant energy washed over us, and we felt a newfound sense of prosperity and good fortune. Our journey had been arduous, but now we could return home, our hearts brimming with hope and determination. As we retraced our steps through the frozen tundra, I couldn't help but reflect on our experience. The mysterious man and the riddle had been more than mere gatekeepers to the rune's power; they had been a test of our resolve and wisdom. We had learned that the true path to prosperity lay not in seeking shortcuts or relying on external forces, but in trusting our own abilities and 

knowledge. Our journey had been fraught with challenges, but it was the act of overcoming them that had ultimately led us to the rune's blessing. And as we walked, side by side, back to our familiar world, I knew we were now armed with a wealth of inner strength that would serve us far beyond the reaches of the tundra.' - fiction.fiulo.com

[mosstliest]

fallen stars always plague the cold

requested?  yes  /   no

r e q u e s t :

Omg hi!!! Ur writing is literally *chefs kiss*

ne ways I'd love to request a c!techno x reader with the frostbitten lips kissing cuz like yk they live in the frozen tundra and im a simp also I'd love to be 🩰 anon if ur opening an anon list!!!

- 🩰 anon

prompt! - 27, kiss with frostbitten lips

pronouns used: they / them

c!technoblade x reader

fluff, angst? (past partners to rivals to lovers speedrun)

cw! mentions of frostbit . swearing  . eye talk bc I’m a sucker for eyes . mentions of past war

1318 words

Coming from L’manberg, where the most drastic climate event were the ever appropriate thunderstorms, it’s safe to say you did not take kindly to the everlasting cold of Snowchester and it’s freezing surroundings. Life in the arctic biome had quickly proven to be unsympathetic, but you’d never been the type to back down from a challenge.

It was on a particularly hostile evening that you found yourself walking alongside none other than Technoblade.

He’d found you in the rather compromising position of almost being killed by an enderman while trying to obtain the means to pearl atop the mountain and offered to walk you home under the argument of “I can’t be associated with someone who died in such an embarrassing way”.

You’d met him before --reluctantly considering him an acquaintance when he first allied with Pogtopia and slowly, between training sessions and long hours of potato farming, you had dared to call him a friend, after weeks of preparing for war, perhaps something more.  neither of you ever risked suggesting a title, but you’d proudly worn his enchanted armor to combat and stood beside him as the tyranny of Schlatt ended on an underwhelming note, the taste of victory still weaved with the bitterness of betrayal as you ended up battling his withers. You’d learnt your lesson and were not willing to forget it.

The two of you had been walking for a good thirty minutes and the silhouette of your cottage was still nowhere to be seen, a month had passed since you relocated to the vicinal hills of Snowchester and you still hadn’t learnt that the customary fur lined attire was never enough to keep you warm but instead of walking faster or rubbing your arms to scare off the cold, you decided to provoke the pigman. No better antidote for frostbite than a bit of entertainment, right?

“So, still on the business of betraying your friends Techno?”

The attractive clean-cut features of the pigman and his eternally stern expression never ceased to stun you, he glanced back at you with snowflakes sticking to his braided hair and no trace of a reaction in his face.

“Still letting everyone push you around y/n?”

Monotone, cold. Maybe the arctic had been the place for him all along

You could have quipped back, but there were so many things left unsaid between you, and there was still a long way to go

“I don’t let anyone push me around, I never have”

“aha”

Hot fury started rising up your throat, he was so unbothered by everything it was exasperating

“We trusted you, Tommy and Tubbo and Wil… we needed you Techno, I needed you! You were my friend and you betrayed me-”

The word friend felt foreign when spoken to him, but this was no time for introspection

“And you still haven’t learnt a thing! Be it Tubbo or Schlatt or even Wilbur, they’re the problem! The gov-”

You flinched at the mention of your dead friend and interrupted the man

“It never had anything to do with the fucking government Techno! We trusted you and you didn’t give a shit”

You blinked away angry tears and turned to face him, the frozen trail forgotten as you both laid raw statements on a creaking table built of long buried feelings

“Y’know, I always considered you the smartest of the bunch, guess you’ve proven me wrong”

“You are the one who hasn’t learnt! I’ve grown Techno, I have changed. You left our country a burning mess and you ran for the fucking hills! You never cared, you never...”

He opened his mouth to answer and closed it as you drifted off mid sentence

“That’s what you think? That I abandoned you because I didn’t care? They called me a war criminal! I’m a damn public enemy now y/n”

Furious tears ran down your cheeks leaving a frozen trail of bitterness

“I had no choice and I- well I wasn’t going to drag you with me! but I cared, I still do I think… about you at least”

A wolf howling in the distance was the only sound breaking the stillness

“You look cold, let’s… let’s just get you home”

“I am not cold, I-”

A particularly inhospitable breeze cut you off and Technoblade couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle at how you wrapped your arms around your midsection in a futile attempt to battle the snow, the usual threatening demeanor that had always intrigued the anarchist shattered and the softness underneath it nothing short of endearing. He could have stared at you forever, delicate and fragile under the northern sky, but your lips were turning blue and Technoblade wasn’t about to let all the effort of finishing off the enderman and walking up a mountain for god knows how long go to waste. Without uttering a word, he slipped off his red cape and draped it around your shoulders.

The red material was worn and soft and you let out a sigh of relief as the cloak started warming your body.

“Thanks”

Your voice came out a resigned whisper and if it weren’t for the eternal silence of the landscape around you, Techno wouldn't have been able to hear it.

You hadn’t been looking for closure, you had wanted to provoke him, fishing for a reaction, a quip or an insult. In some twisted way, you had missed him.

Everything stayed quiet for a second. his normally virtuous hand still stuck in mid air, barely missing a grasp on the fur lining his cloak. You’d never paid much thought to The Blade’s height, but now, as he towered over you, close enough that you could hear him breathe, you wished you’d taken Eret up on that platform boots shopping trip invitation years ago.

Technoblade was much less preoccupied with your height difference and more concerned with the fact that you were possibly the most enchanting person he’d ever laid eyes on. He wondered if he’d noticed before --while you rotted away together on the dimly lit cavern they had insisted on calling a nation--, how your eyes were prettier than the moon; brighter and fuller and bewitching in every sense of the word.

He wondered if a million multicolored polar lights would ever be as hypnotic as the coat of frozen dew that laced your eyelashes and made them shine like stars under the rays of the dusk. In a reckless motion, Technoblade reached his hand and wiped a stray shortleaf that had landed on your cheekbone, he watched in awe as you leaned against his touch.

Neither of you spoke, neither moved an inch, too scared of shattering the fragile tension outstretched between you.

Later, when trying to recall this moment, neither of you could decide on who leaned in first, but when your frostbitten lips met for the first time the world seemed to blur, or, perhaps, you finally started to see clearly.

Techno’s right hand cradled your cheek and his left traveled shy and trembling to your neck, carefully deepening the kiss. you melted onto his embrace with a small gasp, both hands pressed firmly against his chest treasuring the feeling of his beating heart against your skin.

His lips were ice and tasted like the night and his mouth was burning hot and desperate and his breath was shaky and the snow was falling heavier than before but it was fine, any trace of cold had long banished and the rhythmic melody of synchronized heartbeats melted the snow before it reached the ground.

You kissed for what could have been hours of long minutes or short fused seconds with no one but the stars and the moon and the ice as witnesses.

When you opened your eyes and looked up at Techno, his cheeks were flushed a dark crimson and he was blinking fast, all pink shadows and golden angles against the white. Lean and powerful as he’d always been and suddenly; forgiving him appeared to be a rather tempting option.

ANIME TECHNO GO BRRR

I feel like this came off a bit rushed but I really loved this request and wanted to finish it up as quick as posible.

Masterlist should be up soon and I am opening an anon list if you're interested :^)

have a lovely morning/day/evening/night <3

#lily of the valley #technoblade x reader #techno x reader #techno x you #techno x y/n #technoblade x you #technoblade fic #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #dream smp x y/n #dream smp x you #dream smp x reader #mcyt #dream smp #🩰 anon

[amiedala]

DINCEMBER #10: SNOWFALL

PROMPT: Snowflake

SUMMARY: “Beautiful,” you whisper, mouth turning up at the corners.

“Yeah,” Din answers, belatedly, but something about the catch in this voice tells you he’s not focused on the snowflake on his visor. Even hidden you can feel his eyes on you, devouring you, observing you, seeing you in the ways only he can. “Beautiful.”

WARNINGS: none, just pure softness :)

WORDCOUNT: 774

AUTHOR’S NOTE: day 10 of @dindjarindiaries’s Dincember!!! all throughout the month of December, i’ll be writing (relatively) short din djarin x reader oneshots (alongside all the other incredible participants!!!). today, what came out was equal parts snow and warmth. enjoy!

It’s freezing. You and Din have been caught here for days, on this ice planet where even hell would freeze over. The ship crash landed, because that’s all the ship can do these days, and you’ve been stranded, in this wasteland, this tundra, this planet where time stands still.

You used to love snow—used to wish for it in warmer climates—but you’ve lost track of time here, in this snowbank, an endless covering of white, huddled up to Din for warmth, which, honestly, is the best part. But this isn’t just snow. This is an endless supply of it, long ice spits vomiting up more and more white, the skies clouded and thundering. Everything here is painted in it, a forever slash of anesthetic whiteness, stark and scary.

And you’re so tired of huddling up in the center of the ship. You’re exhausted of it, actually, staying stationary. So you dragged Din outside, the baby stubbornly asleep in his cradle, to pretend you’re caught in a snowfall you asked the heavens for.

You’re not equipped for this. Your toes are frozen solid in your boots, and your clothes are growing wet underneath the constant precipitation, but Din’s standing there, immobile, looking up at the sky.

“Dance with me,” you call, over the howl of the wind, letting it suck the words right out of your mouth.

Din stands, immobile, an immovable, stubborn hunk of metal, and if anyone could intimidate the snow into stopping, it would be your Mandalorian. You twirl once more, twice, and then you’re moving across the crust of snow on the ground, striding right over to where Din’s standing, left hip cocked to the side, visor pointed up at the sky.

It’s second nature, now, to hold him—you’ve spent weeks in the dark doing much more than that—but there’s something bare and brazen about doing it outside, like you’re telling the sky a secret you weren’t aware you were keeping. For a second, after your fingers close around his gloved wrists, both of you freeze.

“Okay,” you concede, suddenly breathless, blown away by the magnitude of being in his orbit, “you don’t have to dance.”

Through the helmet, you can tell he’s staring at you. Din doesn’t do anything halfway, and when he’s looking at you, he is looking. It’s intense and holy in equal measures, and you have no willpower to rally against it. In the dark, under the black cloaked night, the Mandalorian becomes a man, becomes human and real and hums under the touch of your fingers, his tongue lapping a symphony on your lips, against your skin. It’s staggering, dizzying, knowing what the two of you share in the darkness, and even standing in an endless terrain of white, you can’t obscure it, can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.

“I—” Din starts, and then the snowflake catches on his visor, and you’re both reduced down to silence, your finger reaching up to inspect it. It’s pristine but imperfect, stoic but soft around the edges. It makes perfect sense to land where it does, a divine kind of choosing. You grin.

“Beautiful,” you whisper, mouth turning up at the corners. “Yeah,” Din answers, belatedly, but something about the catch in this voice tells you he’s not focused on the snowflake on his visor. Even hidden you can feel his eyes on you, devouring you, observing you, seeing you in the ways only he can. “Beautiful.”

You become increasingly aware that your bare hands are wrapped around his gloved ones, that his eyes are fixed upon the angles and curves of your face. You bite down on your lip, and the modulator shudders through a breath Din’s taking, both of you suspended, preserved.

“We don’t have to dance,” you manage, wind knocked straight out of your mouth.

Din doesn’t respond, doesn’t react, and then he gently pulls out of your grasp, moving his left hand down to your hip, anchoring you closer to his body. You burn, because when he touches you, you always burn. He moves his other hand out, yours pressed down the crease in the palm of his glove, and then, clumsily, he starts swaying. You’re positive he’s never danced before—it fits his metal body like a caricature—but here he is, armor snow-covered, turning you around and around.

You grin into his shoulder, breath gently fogging up the metal of his pauldron, and let the snow fall around you. For a minute, a glorious, breathless second—the two of you are weightless, preserved—just like the single snowflake in this endless expanse of white.

#dincember 2021 #dincember #this is the shortest thing i have ever written #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #my writing

[joeldoesntknowwhatsleepis]

ch11 (i wanna write c!joel angst so bad but the plotline isn't clear in my head so not just yet)

"King Sausage is here to see you, Your Majesty," a servant told Joey, bowing.

What could Sausage possibly want?

Instead, Joey nodded, trying not to show his confusion.

"Tell him to wait there, I'll be there in a moment."

He glanced in the mirror.

He looked like a mess.

He placed Xornoth's crown on his head.

It felt right, somehow. It was as if this was meant to be- the dark, bejewelled crown upon his soft golden hair.

Joey walked downstairs.

"Sausage," he greeted.

"Why are you wearing the crown?" Sausage asked immediately.

"Feels right," Joey shrugged.

"Your eyes aren't red," Sausage mentioned.

"They weren't before."

Joey laughed, realizing his friend had probably thought it was a side effect of the crown.

"What?"

"Lenses. I thought they looked cool.”

"Oh," Sausage nodded.

"What brings you here?" Joey asked, fiddling with his ring.

"Fight with Gem and fWhip," Sausage said sadly. This wasn’t uncommon, but the fact that this was so soon after he’d said he wouldn’t try to help Xornoth as not to fight with his siblings…

"About Xornoth?"

The man nodded.

"I- I think that right now, the top priority is making sure Xornoth's fine. They were- are- my best friend- and I can't let them go again,” Sausage inhaled shakily.

Joey nodded.

"I'm sure he's fine," Joey said, not quite believing his own words.

-

-

"I love you."

The words echoed through the deserted tundra, each echo a reminder of Scott's words, of his brother, of a past life long gone.

"What?"

Scott replied a little clearer this time.

"I love you."

Their walls were cracking, Xornoth knew. The ice around their emotions was thawing at the speed of light, their carefully built barricades to prevent the feelings tumbling down more as each echo came.

"No you don't," Xornoth gulped. "You don't love me. You can't love me. I'm a monster. I don't deserve it."

Exor was writing his words for him. They could almost hear the god laughing, his laughs echoing with the 'I love you'.

Scott sat down on the snow next to him.

Xornoth made to move away.

Then realized he couldn't.

Scott was holding the sleeve of his shirt.

Xornoth cleared his throat.

Scott moved a little closer.

Xornoth was scared now. His walls wouldn't last much longer.

No.

Scared.

Not scared.

He was just fine.

Slowly, Scott reached out to them.

Xornoth got as far away from him as possible, which was really only a few centimeters.

Scott wrapped an arm around him, then another one.

"Um- Scott-" Xornoth started.

Scott only held them tighter.

To their surprise, they felt a tear slide down their face.

As much as they willed themselves not to do it, they put their arms around Scott, too. The feeling was warm; it reminded them of old days, better days.

He nestled his head into Scott's shoulder.

"It hurts," he whispered quietly.

"I know," Scott answered softly.

The two brothers stayed like that for hours. They didn’t get up once the snow started falling, creating white flecks on their hair. They didn’t get up when the wolves started to howl, their lonely cries fitted between the wind. They didn’t get up when the sun started to set, casting a long shadow across the crisp blanket of snow, pure white apart from the spot Xornoth’s blood had dropped what felt like days ago. It was already buried in new snow, the fight forgotten, as if the blood was Xornoth’s sadness and the snow was Scott’s hug.

They sat there, brother and brother, and both wished that this moment would never end, that they could stay in each other’s arms until they withered away.

Alas, these happy moments are few and painfully short when you’re a pawn stuck in an eternal game of life and death, controlled by powerful gods such as you cannot defeat; you can only succumb to their power and hope you won’t lose yourself along the way.

#do i need a tw for them basically being vessels of evil gods? #blood tw #its only mentioned tho #he’s trying to block his emotions do i need a tw for that #joeldoesntknowwhatsleepis writing #the last 3 paragraphs took my life #why can't i write like this in class #xornoth #smajor #scott smajor #smajor1995 #dangthatsalongname #mythicalsausage #mythical sausage #joey graceffa #mcyt #empiresblr #empires smp #rivendell #empires fic #THEY GET A HUG #he/they pronouns for xornoth #exor #aeor #my smajor suffers series