#i am a little horrified at like. the idea that i am dragging others down into this insanity with me but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pacificwaternymph · 1 year

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angst ask angst ask angst ask

either 21 or 47 for witchcraft flower husbands? i know it's not going to be canon but i know you love them and i love agreeing (and wc scott is just perfect for any angst)

Figured I'd just combine these <3 Anyway you guys are making me vibrate in my seat so here we go.

"Scott?"

Scott barely dared to breathe.

He was there. He was right there, standing in the middle of the circle, the same as he had been the morning of the day he died.

There was no gaping hole in his chest, no blood or tear in his clothing, no burnt hair or broken bones. His hair, golden in a way Scott's hadn't been in a very long time, was decorated by a crown of poppies. He still wore his wedding ring around his ring finger.

"Jimmy" Scott breathed. He'd dreamed of this day for years, plotted over and over how it would go, what he would say. Yet in the face of his love, his husband, all his words left him. His vision started to blur.

"Scott- is that- is that really you?" Jimmy took a step forward, hesitant. "Where am I? What are we doing here?"

Scott opened his mouth, to say something, or do something, he was right there why couldn't he say anything-

"Jimmy." He repeated, forcing the name past the lump in his throat. He stared up at the other man with a reverence from his position on his knees, drained from everything the spell had taken from him.

He wasn't really there. Scott didn't have Jimmy's body, nor did he have a body suitable to attach his spirit to. He didn't have the resources, the time, or the power to bring him back fully, not yet anyway. He still needed more.

But he'd found a spell. A way to contact someone from the other side, to speak with them, if only for a short time. And it had worked.

Because Jimmy's apparition was standing right there, at the edge of the spell circle, still looking hopelessly lost and confused. Of course, he had no idea what was going on. One second he'd been in his afterlife, and the next he'd been dragged through the veil to the land of the living. It was bound to be disorienting.

He needed Scott to explain everything. But he still found himself speechless, watching the beloved form of his husband as he waited for a response.

"Scott- you're- you're starting to scare me." Jimmy brought one hand up to rub his forearm. And no, that was wrong. Jimmy shouldn't fear him. His husband should never fear anything from him. "What happened to you? Why do you look so..."

Scott blinked, and looked down at himself. Yes, he supposed that he did look different than he had when Jimmy was still alive. His hair for one thing. But that was likely the least startling change.

Scott felt shame flush his cheeks. He was a hollow mess, an empty shell of the person he once was. The bags under his eyes had grown so dark that he feared they wouldn't go away with a week's worth of sleep. Decay spread up his arms and in the ground beneath him. He was ragged and torn, little more than a husk.

"I..." Scott dragged his eyes up to meet Jimmy's. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the way he swayed as he stood upright and pain burst between his eyes. "You're here. You're really here."

"Where is here?" Jimmy asked desperately. He tried to reach out, to help steady Scott, but his hand bounced off an invisible barrier, white light flaring up around the edges of the circle. Just another downside to the spell--the person inside could not leave, and the caster could not enter.

"You're-" Scott flinched at the scratchy sound of his own voice. "I've brought you back."

"Brought me... back?" Jimmy shook his head bewildered. Scott couldn't meet his eyes, but after a few moments, they widened. "You don't mean-"

"Not permanently." Scott hurried to clarify. "Not yet. I... I'm not strong enough yet." He stared at the palms of his hands, nearly overtaken by rot. Jimmy followed his gaze, and his expression turned horrified.

Scott couldn't help but curl in on himself at the way his husband looked at him. But he understood. It was horrifying, and he'd long since grown used to people looking at him like that. It never bothered him, in fact, he reveled in their disgust.

But... he never thought about what would happen if he looked at him like that. He couldn't handle it. The one that he'd done all this for, the reason he'd become a necromancer in the first place, was staring at him like the monster that he was.

Scott had to convince him. He had to show Jimmy that he was still his Scott, that nothing had changed. He was still just as devoted to him, he would never turn a hand to harm him. He would rather plunge a sword through his own neck then allow anything to happen to him ever again.

He clenched his fists and lowered them, returning his gaze to Jimmy's gorgeous brown eyes.

"But I will. I've been chosen, Jimmy. I'm competing to become the next Supreme Witch. And when I win, I will finally have everything I need to bring you back for good. Then everything will be as it once was."

He clasped his hands together in a pleading motion, practically begging Jimmy to understand. To not be scared. To not be disgusted by the wretched creature he had become.

But Jimmy didn't look scared or repulsed. He looked sad.

"Oh, my love..." His voice ached, in a way that Scott had never heard it before. He felt his breath catch in his throat as Jimmy put a hand up to the force field that kept them separate. "What have you done to yourself?"

Scott broke. A sob escaped his throat, and he reached up cover his eyes, cover his weakness. But then- why? Why was he hiding it? This was Jimmy. His husband. His beloved. He'd never judge Scott for such things as crying.

Scott placed his hand on the barrier, right over Jimmy's. His head thunked forward against it, the tears continuing to pour, dripping onto the soft dirt below him and disappearing.

"I love you," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

And he was. He was sorry that Jimmy had died. Sorry that Jimmy had to see him like this, in this worn state. Sorry for everything he'd sacrificed to get to this point, and for all the things he would have to sacrifice to continue. Sorry that he wasn't strong enough yet, sorry that he hadn't already won the trials.

"I love you too." Jimmy bent over slightly so that he could see Scott's eyes. "Can you look at me?"

Of course he could. He would do anything Jimmy asked of him, no matter the cost. Scott forced himself to look up, sniffled and swiped at his eyes to try to get himself to stop being such an embarrassment.

"I love you, Scott. More than words could ever express." Scott opened his mouth to say it back, say it a thousand times, anything to prove that he could still be the lover Jimmy deserved. But Jimmy held up a hand to silence him. "But I don't want you to bring me back."

Scott felt the floor drop out from underneath him.

"What...?" He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Move on, Scott," Jimmy pleaded. "Find someone else. Don't stay hung up on me forever. Please."

"No." No, no no no. He couldn't. He'd spent so long trying to bring Jimmy back. He'd wasted away for years, searching for answers. He'd done too much, sacrificed too much. "I can't."

"Yes you can." Jimmy smiled sadly. "You don't need me. You can find meaning in your life elsewhere."

"I don't want to." Scott couldn't give up now. Not when he was so close to figuring it out. "Jimmy, I- I'm too far gone. I can't let go, I'm sorry. I- I have to do this. I have to prove that- that I'm still-"

Still what?

Still a good person? He'd passed that threshold a long time ago. Still worthy of Jimmy's love? No, of course he wasn't. He hadn't been even when they first met, and he certainly wasn't now.

But then what? What was he trying to prove? Who was he trying to prove it to?

"You deserve happiness, Scott. I don't want to be the reason you stay miserable forever."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew everything I've done."

And oh, there it was. This was a punishment. This was his self inflicted atonement for allowing Jimmy to die in the first place. An impossible task that had seemed so far out of reach when he first started. But now he was mere steps away from the finish line, and he'd actually begun to hope.

So perhaps it was fitting that this was where he would have it ripped away from him.

"I don't know. And I don't care. There is nothing you could do that would make me think any less of you, Scott. I do love you, and I always will. But my time has passed. I don't belong here anymore. Please, do yourself a favor and let me go."

Scott could barely hear him anymore over the ringing in his ears. Let go. He'd heard those words so many times, from so many different people. Cleo, Eloise, Delilah. Each and every one of them had told him what Jimmy was saying now. But he'd brushed them off, and now look where he was.

The light emanating from the runes on the ground started to fade, and Jimmy's solid form turned translucent. He was fading, and quickly, but Scott wasn't ready yet. There was still so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to do.

Jimmy noticed it too. "Petal?" Scott snapped back to attention. "Win that competition. Become supreme witch. And then forget I ever existed. Be happy. Live your life to its fullest. I'll see you in the afterlife."

Scott felt the tears anew. He didn't say anything, didn't do anything. He just stood there as his love vanished once more, leaving him alone.

As soon as the last of the light disappeared, and the chalk blew away in the wind, he fell to his knees, and sobbed until the sun came up.

#witchcraft smp #wcsmp #flower husbands #my writing #writing prompt #ask game #smajor1995 #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #solidarity gaming #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming

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alarmclockthatrings · 1 year

Text

Earth 42 Miles Struggles (Angst + Au!)

A/N - From a tiktok, Earth 42 Miles is apparently more skinnier than Earth 1610 Miles so... ANGST IDEAS, this is just a fic to show Prowler Miles struggles. To add on my fic, I headcanon that Prowler works with kingpin. I am not sharing the video cause tiktok plays unfair with me and leaks my tiktok account. Alsoo... I'm using a translator so sorry for the bad spanish. Side note, Is it safe to assume Miles is still 16 in this?

Credits go to!

Would like to say thank you for giving me permission to base this off the fic I'm making, that's all ^^!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Miles stood behind Kingpin, his mask over his braided hair as he listened to his conversation with Dr. Olivia. Today was like no other, Kingpin plotting for the collider and Dr. Olivia telling him recent results.

He was not interested, to say the least. All he was worried about was his mom getting enough to eat and finishing his assignments before dawn.

He was getting slimmer and lankier by the second. But he didn't mind. Every time he lifted his shirt, he saw the faint outline of his ribs poking out his skin.

Not to mention his sunken eyes for staying up late to do his assignments and the missions Kingpin makes him go through. With every mission or assassination he has to go through, it's either a new bruise or a scratch or worse, a stitch.

He only sighed at the thought as Dr. Olivia nodded goodbye and Kingpin turned to look at him.

His shoulder couldn't help but tense as Kingpin slowly walked towards him.

"Go along now, I know you still have your homework or something," Kingpin said in his low voice and Miles nodded, his mask disassembling as he sauntered on outside but was suddenly stopped by Kingpin.

"Hey, Miles."

He slowly turned around but unexpectedly his cheeks were suddenly grabbed by Kingpin, dragging him back and pulling him close, Mile's head, cramped in Kingpin's palms.

He winces a little as his clawed gloves grasp onto Kingpin's arms as he's lifted up, one eye closed as he struggles against the grip.

"I heard what happened in the last mission. Don't mess up, alright?" He asks in a harsh whisper, if Kingpin closed his palms out of fury, Miles's head would be squashed.

Nothing much happened during the mission he went on but, if anything did happen, it would be bad for him and Kingpin.

Though killing the last scientist Kingpin assigned him to, the family walked in. It was horrifying for the family and Miles, Kingpin must've heard the news but no worries, he would deal with it.

"Yes, Boss.." He manages to muster. Kingpin shifts his gaze and his glare is bitter.

He clicks his tongue and he throws Miles back down on the ground, harsh and rough, making Miles groan. Miles blinks away stray tears and he gets up, pain shooting up his sides.

He limped on his way out, hissing in pain with each step he took. He rounded a corner and saw Dr. Olivia, already waiting for him with guilt shining in her eyes as she saw Miles holding his sides in pain.

She was different from Kingpin, she did care. She gave him food from time to time but not money. Miles didn't know why she did but he let it happen nonetheless.

He looked up at her and she held a plastic container. "Here, I had some leftovers." She whispered, extending her arm.

Miles used his free hand to take the food and limped past her, Olivia eyeing him as he left Alchemax, his breath shuddering from the pain.

On the way home, he changed out of his Prowler suit and reached home and already saw his mother waiting for him by the table and was expecting what she was gonna say.

"Miles, I can't cook today. Lo siento, cariño." She apologized, rising from her seat and cupping Miles's cheek as he smiled softly, just knowing his mother was safe,

"Te encuentras bien? Estás cojeando.." She muttered as she tucked a braid behind his ear, her eyebrows knitting together, noticing the way he held his side.

"Mom, it's fine. Traje comida." He assured her, holding up the plastic container, her eyes widened as she hesitantly took the food and set it on the table.

"Qué hay de ti?" She asked as Miles moved away from her hands, making his way to his room.

"I won't eat anytime soon... No comeré pronto… Tengo que hacer tareas y la comida se echará a perder porque para entonces ya la habré olvidado." He explained and he glanced over his shoulder.

"Just eat." He said softly and his mother sighed, guilty, her eyes begging him not to shut her out again. He didn't want his mother to be guilty about eating the food all by herself but he wanted his mother to be healthy and well even if he wasn't.

He walked into his room and he sunk in his chair, sighing and staring at the paper laid out before him. His shoulders were aching and his sides were still hurting, had Kingpin thrown him down too rough?

He walked over to the mirror and lifted his shirt, at first, he saw the vague outlines of his ribs on his skin but then, he saw the bruise, placed arrogantly on his sides.

He clicked his tongue and stared at the other scars on his body placed around him. None stuck out, he traced the stitch on his sides and he dropped the shirt, letting it cover him again.

These scars were painful, mentally and physically but he had to ignore those feelings, for his parents. He did this for a reason and complaining was not an option and he had already etched himself too deep in it to stand back.

He went back to the desk and sighed, rubbing his eyes and at that moment, he felt like his eyebags had deepened.

He picked up his pencil and his pen and started working on his assignments, and he wasn't stopping until morning.

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

A/N - Hello!! Author again, hope you enjoyed that and please, tell me if you want more ^^! Possibly an X reader? Anyways, I'm sorry if it isn't to your liking :( It's okay though, people have different preferences, also credits to gab1sbestie and this hasn't been edited yet so there's gonna be mistakes, I assume. Thank you and that is all, have a great day!

#miles morales prowler #earth 42 #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales #angst #miles morales angst #prowler miles angst #i am not fine #i think i made miles suffer

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amberlynnmurdock · 11 months

Text

I Yearned For You

Pairing: Ben Tallmadge x Reader

Summary: a lovely anon sent in a request here. The request said "Maybe a fic with Benjamin Tallmadge where he and the reader are reunited during the battle of Setauket?"

Well anon, you asked, and here I am, delivering! I had to rewatch that episode again instead of going into it blindly, and I'm glad I did, because boyyy, I love a rugged and pissed-off Ben lol. I hope you love it anonny friend! Also, Happy 4th!

Setauket hadn’t had a normal day in what felt like ages. Not now especially, with Simcoe’s men still lurking and tensions higher than ever among people you used to call friends…neighbors, even. Things had gotten even worse when you found out Simcoe had innocent people held captive—and not just any people, but your best friend’s uncle and…your ex, you supposed, lover’s father. Reverend Tallmadge was a good man, and you still attended his sermons every Sunday, (despite losing touch with his son), until Simcoe wrongfully accused him of shooting Abe’s father. To put it simply, things were absolutely in turmoil. And you didn’t have anyone to lean on except for Anna.

You felt helpless, and it was a terrible reminder of how badly things ended between you and Ben. Before he went off, done up in blue and gold, without looking back. That seemed like such a little bump in the road now. The intensity of the situation now far outweighed anything you and Ben had disagreed on that night. You worried for his father, and you worried he had no idea what was happening right now.

You cursed to yourself and shook your head as you tied a blue ribbon to hold your hair back. What did it matter, if you looked good going into town? Nothing was the same since the war started. Nothing was the same since your close group of friends separated—half at home, the other half risking their lives.

Nothing had been the same without Benjamin.

There Anna was, standing, waiting patiently for you. When she saw you walking up, she gave a shadow of a smile, and a look that said I’m scared, too.

“Are they still held captive down there?” You asked nervously. Your heart had been pounding all morning on your way to the town.

“Yes,” Anna replied curtly, crossing her arms. She looked as though she was looking for something—or someone—in the crowd. “Are you holding up alright?”

It amazed you that despite everything the brunette had been through recently, with her husband being taken away and losing Abigail, she still managed to make sure you were okay, just as she always had when you were little kids. You thought that if you had a bigger sister, you’d hope she would’ve been like Anna Strong.

“Best I can,” you answered, “I’m worried for Caleb’s uncle and…Ben’s father,” you whispered. Ensign Baker had strolled by you and Anna, wishing a good morning. How can he say that right now? Anna returned the greeting for the two of you, and spoke again when he walked away.

“They will be fine,” Anna told you, so sure of herself. “Believe me.” Her eyes trailed off in the distance. You followed her gaze and saw Abe and Mary, and little Thomas, ride in. You squinted your eyes at her.

“How can you be so sure?”

A group of redcoats suddenly came marching into town. You watched as Simcoe ordered for basement doors to be opened. After a few moments, Simcoe and his men roughly brought out the elder Brewster and Reverend Tallmadge, who was covered in dirt and sweat. You looked away—it was too painful to watch.

“What are they doing?” You asked Anna.

Her eyebrows were scrunched. She was looking at Abe. You hated how you felt like you weren’t let in on a secret. As kids, you all shared everything with each other.

Simcoe and his men took them all the way up to the church. You were horrified at the sight of Reverend Tallmadge and the elder Brewster being dragged up to the gallows. You placed a hand over your mouth, watching as some other townsfolk went on as if it were nothing. How could they be so cruel?

As if reading your mind, Anna took your hand and squeezed it, reminding you not to show too much emotion. You clenched your jaw and leaned on the building you were near. You thought you might be sick. Despite Anna’s attempts at calming you down, there was only one person who ever succeeded in making your worries disappear.

Suddenly, gunshots rang in the air. You jumped from the sound and bumped into Anna. As if on cue, she held onto your arm and dragged you closer to where Abe and his family had ridden in.

“Anna!”

“Shh,” she shushed you.

In the distance, you saw a wave of blue come out of the woods and charge up to the church. People in town began to scream. Everything happened so fast, you were being rallied into a circle by rebels. Anna looked at you again, and her eyes said everything you needed to know: we are safe.

“What is happening—“ you whispered, and suddenly, you felt like the weight of the world dropped in your stomach as you saw Major Benjamin Tallmadge stalking through the town in his blue and gold uniform, brows furrowed, jaw clenched, focus forward. You held your breath at the sight of him and suddenly wished you and Anna weren’t standing front and center of the group.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

He glanced at the group, and for a moment, just a sliver of a moment, when he looked at you, that hard look on his face faded into something softer. Your heart was in your throat. Looking at him felt like you were exposed in front of everyone to see. And when he looked away, it hurt that much more.

However, your reaction to seeing Caleb was a bit different—you were excited and confused, all at once. All you wanted to do was clobber him in a bear hug.

“Just wait,” Anna whispered.

A shot rang in the air. You all turned your heads to the left to see a giant bullet hole in what used to be the Strong’s tavern—and underneath, Selah Strong, walking up alive and well. Now, you knew whatever Anna had planned for you vanished as she made her way through the crowd to greet her long-lost husband. You had to act by yourself now.

☆☆☆☆

You found Anna again in the tavern when the rebels had everyone huddle inside, including some captive redcoats, like Ensign Baker. You stood beside her as you watched the events unfold.

Ben was pacing back and forth, talking to Selah and then Caleb. Abe had begun to include himself in the conversation, too. You hadn’t seen Ben in months. He was hardened now, you could tell by the way his shoulders remained taut and hadn’t relaxed a bit since he was here. He did that whenever he was angry. You couldn’t imagine how he felt now. Every so often, you swore he scanned the crowd just to get a look at you. And each time he did, you looked away, eyes drifting to the floor or the wall.

Caleb was more brash than Ben in his actions, and rightfully so. You gasped when he held a gun to Ensign Baker’s neck. And from there, everything happened so fast—Anna left your side, following orders from Ben to open the cellar. Caleb and Abe followed Anna, with Ben behind them. You couldn’t look away this time.

When Ben walked by you, it was like only you and he existed. So much was said in one look, without any words. He held your gaze, and while the rest of his face remained sharp, his blue eyes were soft. It was like he said I’ll speak with you. Not now, but soon.

☆☆☆☆

A lot happened, but from the looks of it, the battle was over. Not without casualties. Fortunately, Reverend Tallmadge was alive, but he held the elder Brewster in his arms. You bit back tears as you looked away. You walked across the dirt path and stopped as you saw an army of blue march down.

You were frozen, watching them. This may be your only chance to speak with Ben, while everyone was distracted and no redcoats were nearby. They had all retreated to the church.

Ben led the dragoons. He had the face of a man who had won a battle, exhaustedly, but still remained strong for the men whom he had to lead. There was a difference between remaining strong and looking it, though.

“Grab your haversacks and head for the boats!” He shouted with authority. You had to get used to this new, rugged Ben, made from war.

He stopped in his tracks. You were about to step forward until Abe and he began to converse about something. And when they were done, Abe walked away, and Ben finally, looked at you.

The intense feeling you had in your chest only grew heavier the closer you walked to Ben. And he stood there patiently, waiting for you, one hand on his waist, the other touching his sword. When you finally stood before him, he dropped the hand that touched his sword. You were overcome with so many emotions, you didn’t know where to begin. It was lovely to see him, and heart-wrenching, all at once.

“I’m so happy your father is okay. I heard a boy in town said he saw Benjamin Tallmadge all done up in blue and gold,” you forced a smile, tears already threatening the corner of your eyes. Ben had looked around you as if to make sure no one was suspicious of why he was talking to you. You didn’t bother to look.

He said your name, barely above a whisper. You bit your lip, thinking this was a terrible idea, and began to walk away. But Ben gently tugged on your wrist, and let go the moment he got your attention.

“Are you okay here?” Ben asked earnestly.

“As good as I can be,” you replied with a shrug. “You know nothing is the same.”

“I know,” he nodded, breaking eye contact when he saw a tear slide down your cheek. He never could stand to see you so upset and by his own doing. He swallowed hard before he spoke again. “Why don’t you come with me? On the boats? To New Jersey?” His voice was strained with so many things—pain, yearning, regret. And the worst of all, hope.

“I can’t,” you began to argue, “I can’t drop everything here.”

“You can,” he argued. And it felt like you were back three years ago, arguing about the same thing all over again. “It’s not safe with those wretched men up at the hill, at our church.” When he mentioned the church, memories flooded your mind like crashing waves of images of you and Ben sitting front row in the center, every Sunday. Meeting him outside around the back of the church stealing kisses. The church you dreamed of marrying him in someday.

“I’ve survived this long without you,” you said rather harshly, without meaning to.

“I may be standing here,” Ben started in a low voice, “but I’ve barely survived without you.” The look on his face was full of pain; flashes of the night he left you in your mind. That same pained expression, of wanting to reach out and grab something but never being close enough.

Your heart was beating so fast, he might’ve seen your chest moving. God, you were such a sinful liar. You were barely surviving here without Ben, too. With that redcoat forced to live in your house, you always watching your own back. Life was hard here. You wanted to leap at the idea of being back in Ben’s graces, but something held you back.

“I don’t have much time,” Ben urged.

When you didn’t answer, he straightened his shoulders again and bowed.

“It was lovely to see you again,” Ben told you, choking on his own voice but hiding it well with that stern expression. “Goodbye, my love.”

☆☆☆☆

You watched as Ben disappeared down the road with his men, to the boats. And something in you changed, minutes later. You were sprinting after the boats, that were just taking off. There was a crowd of people in town watching as the rebels—traitors, to them—sailed off to their next destination. Anna was on one of those boats.

Just as you were running past everyone, pushing to the front, you ran into the river, not giving a damn who saw and gasped and cursed at you. You passed Anna, who was strangely coming back, against you who was marching on forward.

Ben held up his arms and yelled for Caleb to stop rowing.

“Ben!” You shouted. “I want to come!”

Ben leaped out of the boat and met you in the water, up to your shins. He was shaking, you were shaking, as he held onto you tightly and helped you get onto the boat, to join him, Caleb, and Selah, and the rest of the rebel army in their journey to New Jersey. You sat in the boat, with a blanket over your shoulders, and watched as the townspeople cursed at you. You held Anna’s gaze, wondering why on earth you had switched places.

But it didn’t matter now. Ben sat across from you on the boat, beaming with an expression of gratefulness. He took your hands in his and warmed them by rubbing them together. You didn’t have to say anything to each other—the look in your eyes was enough.

#ben tallmadge #turn #amc turn #seth numrich #ben tallmadge x reader #american revolution #amrev #turn: washington's spies #turn washington's spies

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

Text

Pack

bet y'all thought we were done huh

bet y'all thought black wasn't also gonna adopt cyan

jokes on you black can AND WILL adopt any smol who looks and smells 2% too sad

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks

Pairings: none

Word Count: 5202

Purple's safety is Black's priority. Cyan came on board knowing and understanding that. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that Black isn't paying that much attention to what, exactly, that's doing to Cyan.

Until they have to.

Did Black agree that Cyan could stay with them overnight? Yes.

Was Black slightly preoccupied with making sure little Purple was alright? Also yes.

Has Cyan done or said anything to make them believe that Purple is in danger? No.

Do they like this?

Absolutely not.

Black sighs, adjusting their grip on a now-dozing Purple as they walk down the hall, Cyan trailing behind. The door to the quarters opens, revealing Purple’s nest with the blankets still rumpled and not enough room for all three of them. Cyan doesn’t follow them in, lingering just out of reach of the door, looking away and tugging on one of their gloves.

Of course, before either of them can say anything, Purple stirs and blinks up at Cyan.

“Why are you outside? Aren’t you coming in?”

Cyan glances at Black. Black rubs Purple’s head and pulls them back enough so they can look at each other.

“This isn’t a big room, baby,” they say softly, “we’re just trying to figure out who’s going to sleep where.”

“I can sleep under the bed, I’ve done it before.”

Nope. No way, no how, not happening. “You won’t have to do that, baby, you’ll sleep with me like you always do.”

Purple relaxes a little bit, cuddling back up to them, their maw growling protectively as Purple’s weight leans against it again. Cyan clears their throat.

“There are spare mattresses in the other quarters,” they say quietly, pointing down the hall, “I can grab one of those and drag it in?”

“Are you actually planning on sleeping?”

Cyan’s hand falters. “Uh, yeah? Isn’t that…what we’re doing?”

Black sighs, hefting Purple a little higher. It’s not a bad idea. “Sure. That’ll work.”

Cyan nods sharply and disappears off down the corridor while Black carries Purple into the room and shifts, lying down on the nest with Purple propped in their lap, head up against their collarbone.

“Hey, baby,” they whisper, rubbing Purple’s back and resting their foreheads together, “you’re okay now. I’ve got you, okay?”

Purple blinks, shifting a bit in Black’s arms, turning to watch the door.

“Cyan’s coming back, okay? They’ll be here in a minute, they’re just getting another mattress.”

“Okay.”

Black squeezes them to distract them. “Do you want a story before you sleep?”

“No.”

“Okay. Can I ask you a question?”

“Mhm.”

Black takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Can you tell me why you’re afraid of the dark, baby?”

“Bad things happen in the dark. You’re not supposed to be alone.” Purple’s fingers tighten on Black’s shirt. “If you’re alone in the dark, no one else knows that you’re there.”

…nope. No, those are some very horrifying implications that Black is not going to think about right now, because they’ll just get very angry and Purple needs to be allowed to sleep. Their maw nibbles at Purple’s shirt and they wriggle, relaxing into Black’s hold as a shadow falls over the doorway.

“Sorry,” Cyan grunts as they set down the mattress, “it was bolted to the frame, had to undo it.”

“Are you going to sleep all the way over there?”

Cyan glances down at where they’d deposited the mattress, just inside the door. They blink, as if they’re surprised it’s there. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

“Why?”

“I’m the alarm system, little hatchling.” They look up with a grin. “If something tries to come in, they’ll trip over me first and then I get to deal with them.”

It makes Purple giggle. “Okay. But then you have to wake us up, okay?”

“But you need to sleep, little hatchling.” Cyan pouts and, frankly, it’s kind of adorable. “I can be quiet, I promise!”

Black rubs Purple’s back again when they yawn. “Cyan will be okay, baby. They’re right there, you can see them. You’ll be safe.”

“Mmkay.”

As Purple settles and Black tucks them in, Cyan lies down on the mattress, curling up with their back to Black and Purple. Their pack sits awkwardly in the middle of the mattress as everyone gets comfortable and Black lets a tendril flick the lights off. After a while, Purple’s breathing evens out and they’re fast asleep. Black allows themselves a smile, maw rumbling contentedly, before glancing up at Cyan.

“You know,” they say, quiet enough not to wake Purple, “most humans change out of the suits to sleep.”

Nothing.

Black frowns. “I’m not trying to criticize your performance, Cyan, just a bit of advice.”

Still nothing.

Making sure Purple doesn’t wake, Black flicks out a tendril, tapping Cyan on the shoulder. “Cyan?”

When still nothing comes, Black comes to the rather stunning—and late—realization that Cyan is also asleep.

In their full suit, minus the helmet, curled up on the floor, with their back to Black and Purple, facing the door.

Huh.

The tendril slips back in as Black watches them, noticing how still they are and how, well, how small. They really did curl up pretty tightly, didn’t they? Black spares a glance at a stray blanket that fell on the floor.

They might want it.

But before they can move to put it over them, Cyan stirs, sitting up a little and mumbling softly. They stretch a little, glancing over at the nest, only to stop when they see Black staring at them.

“…are you not sleeping?”

“No.”

“Oh.” They lie down again, this time facing the ee, arms curled up but their hands lying open. “Can I sleep some more, then?”

“Purple’s not awake yet, you’ve got time.”

“Okay.”

Black watches, somewhat amazed, as Cyan’s eyes droop lower and lower, falling back asleep in only a few minutes. Only when they’re making a soft whistling noise do they realize they forgot to ask if they wanted the blanket.

The night passes slowly.

————

Purple asks if Cyan can start sleeping with them all the time. Black hesitates for a moment but they realize they really don’t have a reason to say no, so they let it happen. They do remember to ask if Cyan wants a blanket—something Purple insists on as well.

And, alright, look. Here’s the thing.

They are not getting rusty, alright? This is not something they were ever trained to do and it’s never been something they had to do on a mission before.

Purple is scared. That is their baseline. In order for them to learn how to not be scared, Black needs to adjust how they are to show this child that they are safe.

Purple needs to be protected. That is a fact and so they must evaluate any threats with precision and persistence.

But still.

They should’ve caught on quicker.

Starting with the fact that Cyan doesn’t want to move their mattress any closer to the nest.

When Purple asks, Cyan glances at Black instinctively, as if waiting for Black to protest. But Black just shrugs, silently indicating that if Cyan wants to, they can. They trust them enough now. Cyan glances down at the mattress, tugging their lip into their mouth.

“But what about the alarm system?”

“If you’re closer, that means we can protect you too.”

Still Cyan hesitates. “I…I’d really rather stay over here, Purple. I’m sorry.”

Purple wilts a little when Cyan quickly says something that also should’ve alerted Black that something else was going on.

“I don’t like sleeping super close to other people. Across the room is fine, but not…not any closer.”

“Oh. Okay.” Purple reaches out slowly. “Can I hug you?”

Another glance at Black and Black nods. Cyan lets Purple crawl closer, an arm around their back to hold them up. “There, little hatchling. It’s okay.”

Then there are other things. Things like how Cyan still looks at Black every single time Purple talks to them or tries to show them affection. Or how Cyan will still say things to Black first before addressing Purple. Or how they’ll stay a good few feet away from them until Black motions for them to come closer.

Purple’s quiet one night and no amount of prompting will get them to share it, their eyes on Cyan’s sleeping form. They did have a brief conversation about Cyan sleeping with the suit still in place, where they said it wasn’t actually that uncomfortable since it wasn’t a real suit, so they sleep with the suit still on but their maw open, tongue lolling out slightly as it rumbles. Purple had been a little restless that night, shifting back and forth in Black’s arms before finally dozing off.

It shocks both Impostors the next day when Purple asks to play with Cyan in Storage alone.

Cyan looks to Black immediately. Black tilts their head and Purple points to Weapons.

“You said you needed to monitor the asteroids, right?”

“Yes, I did.”

Purple reaches out and grips Cyan’s sleeve. “So Cyan can come play with me while you’re busy.”

They glance at each other again. This…this feels important to Purple. So Black nods and Purple smiles and well, now they don’t want to say no to the little one ever again. Cyan gives them another look, a nod to let them know they’ll behave, and lets Purple lead them off down the hallway.

Black sits there for another moment before getting up and going to Weapons, sitting in the chair and cueing up the display. Strangely enough, their maw isn’t rumbling at the thought of Purple being alone with Cyan, nor does it feel strange that Purple specifically asked to spend some time without Black around. Instead, they’re just a bit curious.

…okay, maybe a lot curious.

So when they finish clearing the belt, they walk as quietly as they can toward Storage, going the long way around so they won’t be expecting it.

Halfway there, though, they realize they’re acting as if these are targets that they have to surprise, and they double back so quickly they’re back in Cafeteria before they realize it. They take a deep breath and walk slowly toward the door.

They hear the last of a game the two of them are playing, something about colors and bouncy balls and seeing who can knock something over first. It brings a small smile to their face, listening to the two of them acting like children.

As it should be.

They’re about to walk in and see what the game is—and maybe ask if they can play too—when Purple’s giggles suddenly stop.

“Cyan?”

“Yeah, little hatchling?”

“Why are you scared of Black?”

Black freezes. They know by the sudden sloshing sound that Cyan was caught off-guard too.

“What?”

“You’re scared of Black.” Purple’s voice is quiet but firm. “I can tell.”

There’s a pause. Then Cyan lets out a strange breath.

“Does that mean you’re not scared of Black? At all?”

“Black can be scary,” Purple says, “but I’m not scared of them. They’re—they’re nice. They’re always really nice to me. They’re always making sure I’m okay and telling me that it’s okay if I’m scared. They’d never hurt me.”

“That’s right, Purple,” Cyan says, their voice a little lower, “you know they’d never hurt you.”

Black bites back a curse, certain Purple can hear what’s going unsaid too.

Purple knows Black would never hurt them, but Cyan doesn’t.

“But why would Black hurt you? You’re not scary.”

“Hey,” Cyan protests, “I can be scary!”

“But not, like, really scary. You’d never hurt me either.” Another pause. “Right?”

“No, no, little hatchling, I’d never hurt you. I promise, I won’t hurt you. Ever.”

“But then why would Black hurt you?”

Cyan is quiet for a moment. Then they speak in a voice so quiet Black has to strain to hear it.

“I don’t think Black’s going to hurt me.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re scared of them.”

“And you’re not?”

The sudden sharpness in Cyan’s tone makes Black take a step forward, but they force themselves to stay put.

“You’re not ever scared of them, not even a little?”

Purple’s quiet.

Black waits with their maw deathly still.

“…but they’d never hurt me,” Purple mumbles.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t ever be scared,” Cyan says, voice a bit gentler now, “it’s okay. It’s okay to be scared.”

“But I don’t want to be scared of Black.”

“You’re—it’s not really Black you’re scared of, little hatchling. It’s the memory of what—what happened. Is—okay, let me guess. You get scared of Black when they move a bit too fast or, like, put something down and it makes a noise, right?”

A pause where Purple must nod.

“That’s not Black you’re really scared of. You’re scared of someone else who moved too fast and made loud noises. You’re scared of who it was that actually hurt you. It’s not Black, but it’s your body remembering.”

“Oh.”

“So yeah, little hatchling, it’s okay. It’s okay to be scared in those moments.”

“Is that what’s happening to you, too? Is your body remembering too?”

Black feels their maw twist at the pause before Cyan says, “yeah, Purple. My body’s remembering too.”

Remembering what? Being shoved up against a wall and having their head slammed into a bulkhead? Getting choked out until they couldn’t breathe? Pinned against the console with a blade shoved under their chin?

“You should talk to Black about it. They’re really good about making sure I’m not scared. I think they’d help you not be so scared too.”

Black’s heart flutters at the thought of Purple feeling so safe with them at the same time as their stomach sinks at why Cyan’s not going to do that.

“…I don’t think that’s a good idea, Purple.”

“Why not? Black’s really good at it, I promise.”

“I believe you, little hatchling, I just…” A pause and a rustling of fabric. “Black’s good at it because it’s their job to take care of you.”

Another pause.

“It’s not their job to take care of me.”

And before this can get any more devastating, Black walks forward and the door to Storage opens. Purple looks up, smiling when they see them and holding their arms out. Black scoops them up obligingly, pressing a kiss to their cheek as Cyan quietly cleans up the aftermath of their game.

“Did you have fun, baby?”

“Yeah! Cyan’s really good at coming up with game ideas.”

“Oh?” They glance down at Cyan. “That’s good, then. Maybe you two can play together more often.”

Cyan’s head snaps up. They stare at Black. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Black says, shifting their grip on Purple and nodding, “really.”

That night, Cyan offers to take the night shift. They’re out of the worst of the asteroid field, but there are still enough stray ones flying around that they don’t want to run the risk of having all of them asleep—or in Black’s case, beset with a little Purple on their chest.

They’re getting settled in the nest, Black tucking another blanket around them, when Purple sits up and puts their hands on Black’s shoulders.

“Cyan isn’t going to hurt me.”

Black blinks. “What?”

“Cyan isn’t going to hurt me,” Purple repeats, looking at them firmly, “they’re not going to hurt me and they’re not scary.”

“…okay…?”

“So you need to be nicer to them.”

Black sits up. “Baby, what’s going on?”

“Cyan is scared,” Purple says, looking at Black pleadingly, “they’re really scared and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, baby, it’s not your responsibility to make sure they’re not scared. You’re scared too, and you’re still a child.”

“But they’re scared and we need to show them that they’re safe here. I can’t do it so you need to.”

When Black is quiet for a moment, it only makes them more frantic before Black’s shushing them and pulling them in for a hug.

“I’m just thinking, baby, it’s okay.”

Because Cyan is scared, yeah, but they’re actually scared of Black. Black can’t do the same thing that they did with Purple, because the one who hurt Cyan is still here.

It’s them.

And they can’t even promise that they won’t hurt them, because they also know that if it ever came down to it, if it was to protect Purple, if it came down to choosing between them and Cyan…

They’d choose Purple without hesitating.

None of this, however, changes the fact that Cyan is scared and Purple’s upset about it.

“…I can try,” they say softly, lying down and closing their eyes, clutching Purple to their chest, “I can try to be nicer.”

Purple noses at their neck. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

————

The reason that Black kicks themselves for not noticing sooner is that now that they’re looking, they can’t stop noticing.

Cyan looks up as soon as Black enters a room. They shift so their back is against a wall or another surface, making sure Black can see their hands are empty. They’re careful, so careful with Purple, and only part of it is because they genuinely care for the little hatchling.

And if Black moves just a little too close, they flinch.

Yeah, they’re scared, alright.

And so Black tries. Honestly, they do. When Purple asks if they can play and Cyan looks at Black to check, they shrug and make a joke about the child being in charge, silently nodding when Cyan’s eyes widen.

You don’t need my permission, they try to convey, I trust you with them.

They offer little bits of praise when Cyan does something well—like shooting an asteroid with pinpoint accuracy. They let their tendrils out to flick against Cyan’s when they’re all on the bridge. They let their human form shift away a bit more, their maw more obvious, an easier emotional cue for Cyan to read.

Unfortunately, it just seems to make things worse.

Cyan’s getting jumpier. Enough for Purple to notice, enough for Black to worry. They brush it off, saying that they’re getting used to not doing so much, they just need to get it out of their system, but then they’re going to sleep in another room and Purple is worried.

“Why isn’t it working? You’re being nice now!”

“It’s not that simple, baby. It takes time for you to learn how to not be scared.” They pull Purple closer. “You know that.”

Purple does, and they keep being their adorable little self, but Cyan’s still skittish as ever around Black.

Then, of course, comes the moment where something heavy falls over in Storage and Black tears into the room to see a crate lying on its side, burst open, and Cyan huddling around a shaking Purple.

“What happened,” they bark, hurrying over and crouching beside the pair, “are you hurt?”

Surprisingly, it’s Purple who looks up at them first. “The bumps knocked the crate over. Cyan pushed me out of the way. I have oil on me.”

“But you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Black lets out a sigh of relief. “Cyan? You okay?”

Cyan doesn’t respond.

“Cyan?”

“They haven’t said anything,” Purple mumbles, and Black realizes the reason they’re shaking is because Cyan is trembling, “they—they just pushed me out of the way and they—they won’t move.”

Black takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Then they get up and move carefully around so they can see Cyan’s head. They crouch down, leaning to look at them.

Their eyes are squeezed shut, their breath coming in sharp pants.

“Cyan,” Black calls softly, “Cyan, it’s okay.”

Nothing.

“You’re alright,” they continue, still speaking as gently as they can, “you’re safe now. Purple is safe. It’s over.”

“I’m okay,” Purple says, “I’m not hurt.”

Finally, Cyan moves, pulling back just enough to look at Purple. “You’re okay?”

Fuck. Their voice is all strangled and hoarse.

“Yeah, Cyan, I’m okay.” Purple pats their cheek. “See?”

Cyan nods, glancing around to see the crate. Or rather, they try to do that, but their gaze lands on Black first.

“The—the crate—“ they gasp, their eyes widening as they rear back, “the crate—it fell—I pushed them out of the way, I did it, I—they’re safe—“

“That’s right,” Black interrupts gently, trying valiantly to ignore the blood rushing in their ears, “you did it, you protected them.”

“They’re safe, I promise!”

“I can see that. Good job.”

“Purple’s safe,” Cyan whispers, clutching them tightly, “they’re safe.”

“I know.” Black moves slowly and carefully, arms wide and hands open so Cyan can see they’re unarmed. “They’ve got a little bit of oil on them. Can I come and take them for a shower?”

“Oil?”

“A bit of fuel, that’s all. It’s alright, they’re not hurt. Just dirty.”

Slowly, with aching patience, they coax Purple from Cyan’s arms, standing up and walking over to the entrance and setting Purple down.

“Do you feel comfortable going to wash this off?”

Purple nods, their gaze still fixed on Cyan. “Are you going to help them?”

“Yeah, baby. We’ll come find you later, okay? Stay in our nest so I know where you are.”

“Okay.”

Black watches them go after promising to look after Cyan, before standing up and walking slowly back over to Cyan, who’s moved so their back is against the bulkhead, curled up in the corner. When Black’s shadow passes in front of the light, they flinch so hard it slams their head into the wall, before opening their arms and exposing their maw.

They’re fucking submitting.

The sight of it slams into Black, their breath catching in their throat as their mind suddenly treats them to a summary of what’s happened since Cyan arrived on this ship.

They were discovered as an Impostor and had to rush into an escape pod, drifting through space with no hope of recovery.

When they were finally hailed, they could’ve been caught by humans, and it was pure luck that Black’s an Impostor.

An Impostor that immediately slammed them against a wall, choked them out, and threatened to kill them over a human.

A human that then told them that not only are they not a threat, they’re not even scary because they knew Black would protect them.

And they did, going so far as to shove a knife against their throat and let them know just how unwelcome, unsafe, and unworthy they were on this ship.

A ship that only contained one of the most infamous Impostors in Polus history, someone they looked up to, idolized, even, and had that image shattered into terrifying and snarling pieces.

Black comes to another realization as their eyes widen at seeing Cyan submitting on the cold floor.

They would never have to hurt Cyan, because it would never occur to Cyan to hurt Purple.

They wouldn’t hurt them because they would never have to.

…yeah, they feel like shit.

They let out a breath, crouching down and sliding a hand around the back of their neck, cradling their head. It’s an acknowledgment, a sign that Black’s seen their submission and they accept it, they won’t treat Cyan as a threat or a challenge. Cyan settles a little bit at that, but they’re still looking at Black with terrified eyes.

“You need to breathe, pup,” they say softly, “you’re hyperventilating.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Cyan gasps out, “I didn’t hurt them, please, I promise, I didn’t hurt them—“

“I know you didn’t, pup. It’s okay.”

“Please!” Their voice breaks. “Please, I’ll do what you want, I didn’t hurt them, I promise, please don’t hurt me—“

Black squeezes the back of their neck lightly, just pressing their fingers there, and Cyan sobs. They lean down a little further and place their other hand near their maw, rubbing in slow, gentle circles.

“I’m not going to hurt you, pup,” they promise, holding Cyan’s gaze, “I promise. Purple is safe, they’re not hurt. You protected them, you did good. You need to breathe now, pup.”

“Purple—Purple’s okay?”

“Yeah, pup, Purple’s okay.”

“But—but you’re here,” Cyan manages and they sound so lost and confused and small that Black’s maw rumbles before they realize it.

“I’m here because you’re not alright, pup,” they say as gently as they can manage, “you’re scared and panicking.”

Another sob, one that lands like a dead weight in Black’s chest. They rumble again, letting their maw fall open, panting, purring soothingly. They’re patient, rubbing circles near Cyan’s maw, stroking the back of their neck, trying to convince the pup that they’re safe.

Eventually, Cyan’s breaths slow, but they’re still staring up at Black. Their hands twitch, unsure of what to do.

“B-Black?”

“Yeah, pup?”

“What—what’s going on?”

“We hit a spot of turbulence,” Black explains gently, “you and Purple were in Storage when a crate knocked over. You pushed them out of the way so they wouldn’t get hurt. A bit of fuel spilled on you both. I came and found you.”

“P-Purple?”

“Purple’s okay. They’ve gone to have a shower and wash the fuel off.” They pet the hair at the nape of Cyan’s neck. “You had a panic attack, pup, and I stayed to take care of you. Do you think you’re past the worst of it?”

Cyan just stares at them.

“Pup?”

“What…what’s going on?”

Black takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, smiling ruefully.

“I’ve been a real dick to you,” they murmur, “and I’m…regretting it.”

Cyan’s eyes go impossibly wider.

“I was so worried about protecting Purple that it didn’t even occur to me to think about what I was doing to you. Especially when I didn’t need to.”

“…what?”

Black shakes their head. “You were never going to hurt Purple, were you? Shh, shh, shh, pup, it’s alright, that’s a rhetorical question. Although, when you first came up—and you be honest with me, now,” they say, tilting their head, “how much of what you said was for show?”

Their eyes fill with tears and they shake their head, lip between their teeth.

“All of it? Yeah?” They bring their hand up and coax their lip free. “You’re not that kind of Impostor. You were never going to touch Purple, even before you knew they were a kid. You just said it to make yourself seem bigger.”

Something like shame twists Cyan’s features and they make a sympathetic noise, brushing away a frightened tear.

“It’s okay, pup. You’re still—well, you’re still a pup. It’s okay.”

“I’ll be good,” Cyan stammers, chest heaving, cowering under Black, even as they shush them, “please, don’t hurt me. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You are good, pup,” Black rumbles, their maw purring again, “you’re so good. It’s okay. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you.”

“You—you won’t?”

“No, pup, I won’t.”

Big fat tears bubble at the corner of Cyan’s eyes and Black barely has time to murmur hey before they’re reaching up and frantically scrabbling for a hold on Black’s shoulders.

“Shh, pup,” Black rumbles, maw purring instinctively to soothe the frightened pup in their arms, “that’s it. You’re safe, I won’t hurt you. That’s it…that’s a good pup.”

As Black cradles the sobbing pup, they close their eyes and turn their head into the crook of Cyan’s neck, still purring. Their fingers rub over the back of their neck, a constant reassurance.

I see you. I have you. I’ll protect you.

————

Things are better after that. Purple is, of course, dismayed to hear that cuddling happened without them, but when Black bundles the both of them into a hug their protests stop pretty quickly. Cyan’s getting better—at least they’re not openly flinching whenever they catch sight of Black anymore—but they’re still skittish.

It isn’t until Cyan accidentally stumbles into the desk in Admin and whimpers that Black realizes what’s going on.

“Do you need to nest, pup?”

Cyan nods, cheeks flushing bright red as Purple looks up in confusion. “What?”

“Impostors have periods of time where we need to pay special attention to our hatchlings,” Black explains patiently, “do you remember how you told me about nesting periods for some animals?”

“It’s the same thing?”

“Similar, yes.”

Cyan whimpers again and Purple goes to tug on their sleeve. Black catches them gently.

“Everything’s a lot for them right now, baby,” they explain in a whisper, “I need to take care of them. Can you go to our nest?”

“Will Cyan come too?”

“They might want to build their own nest, but I’ll let you know. Go on, now.”

Purple darts off down the corridor and Black moves over to Cyan, trilling quietly for them to rumble back to.

“Can I carry you, pup?”

Cyan nods, shamelessly butting their head against Black’s shoulder as Black scoops them into their arms, letting out a surprised mmrp at how easily they’re lifted.

They carry them down the hall to Black’s room, one that hasn’t been in regular use since they began spending the nights in Purple’s room, but one that has a bit more touches of Polus than the rest of the ship. Cyan lets out an unhappy noise when Black lets them go, only to make a confused chirp when Black shifts.

“It’s alright, pup,” they rumble, stretching their tentacles out, “you’re safe. Let’s get your nest built, alright?”

They may not know how to take care of a human child, but they know damn well how to care for one of their own.

They coax Cyan into a partially shifted state as well, wrapping around them and purring until Cyan’s maw begins to rumble as well. They reach out and carefully move the soft things within reach, letting Cyan’s tendrils flick out and assemble the nest around them. They snuffle and sniff at each one, before carefully deciding what needs to go where, what needs to be thrown out, and what’s safe enough to be closest. Black stays the whole time, an immovable pillar of support, letting Cyan flit around them as they need.

“Good job, pup,” they rumble, “it’s a good nest. You did good.”

Cyan ripples happily, stretching out in their nest, tentacles curling around Black’s as they snuggle into the soft things. Black purrs, nibbling the soft spot near their head as Cyan relaxes.

They stretch out again and a wounded noise escapes them.

Instantly, Black flits over them. Are they hurt? Was there something sharp? Do they need food? They don’t find anything.

“What’s wrong, pup?”

“Hatchling,” Cyan warbles, “no hatchling.”

Ah.

Black shifts enough for vocal chords and calls out. “Purple? Purple, come here, please.”

Skittering and the quick pitter-patter of little feet as Purple dashes to meet them. They skid to a halt in the open doorway and gasp, hands covering their little mouth.

“Two octopuses!”

Black chuckles as Cyan rumbles, stretching out to meet them. Purple climbs into the nest, letting Cyan tug them this way and that until they rumble contentedly. Purple snuggles immediately into Cyan’s embrace, letting their tentacles ruffle their hair.

As Black wraps their arms around their two babies, lulled to sleep by their instincts whispering safe warm nest hatchling pup, they think that no matter what happens to them, they’re not letting anyone take these two away from them ever again.

#dragonbabbles #fic #among us

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robotstrategy · 4 months

Text

Recalled • Part 4 • 28 - Nero

Previous • Series Masterlist • Part 4 Masterlist • Next

TW: Menstruation + Puberty Trauma + Hinted SA

5:00 Am, her alarm clock buzzes at her before the sun even rises. Nero sits herself up in bed and stretches out her back, her abdomen seems to be cramping more than usual, but that’s just normal everyday things for a girl, right?

Nero changes into her boeuf uniform of a t-shirt and camo pants looking over at Madison and Ester, envious that they get to sleep in a bit more. She pulls a plastic bin from under her bed, searching for a box of protein bars, picking one up she shoves it in her duffle bag and takes her water bottle with her downstairs. Closing the door to her dorm she spots a hall monitor in the corner of the hallway, they’re usually here to make sure no funny business is going on, but for right now they're only here to make sure the bœufs don’t sabotage each other before their day on the field. Walking down the empty hallways to the stairwell Nero notices that it’s spitting outside, which means that it’ll mostly be a day of battle strategies. Unless of course, the sergeants want them to act out a cold war, Nero hopes they don’t go with that second option, but she knows they’ve done it before in a torrential downpour.

“Nero!” She hears someone yell, she turns around and frowns, it’s Mark. He runs up to her as she nears the military classroom.

“Listen, about what I said Wednesday, I’m sorry, I didn’t know what happened.” He pauses, “I know why you’re upset to have titles now, I would be upset too!”

“It’s fine.” She opens one of the two doors separating the classroom from the main building.

“No, you don’t understand, I’ve felt something like it before, there’s a girl who had a memory about something that would’ve happened to you if you weren't strong enough.”

Nero looks back at Mark with wide eyes, she then turns back around to open up the second door. “If you really need someone to talk to go talk to the therapist, I know people think that they can talk to me because I have one in my brain, but please don’t. I don’t want to hear about your second-hand trauma.”

She holds open the second door so he can grab onto it. “I, I understand,” he tells her.

Inside the class, all four drill sergeants and the Admiral stand around a pile of white masks with Rewind classes on them. Nero already knows all the all the classes, Friendly, Rewinds mostly made of tithes, Ward, like the name suggests they’re mostly made of wards of the state, Troubled, mostly made of Awols, and Hostile, a special class that only needs one really bad part to qualify you for it. The drill sergeants and the Admiral spot Nero and Mark and one of the drill sergeants hands them their masks. Mark is a Troubled, no surprise there, but when Nero is handed her mask she gasps a little, she qualifies as Hostile.

Nero points to Starkey’s face plate, “It’s because of him isn’t it?”

The drill sergeant nods, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules, not even the head lady does, the government wants you all to be classified this way.”

Nero puts on the mask in shame, dragging her feet to where she usually stands, it seems like the government is always behind every stupid decision, it took an entire uprising just for them to stop unwinding. One thing that Nero can say about the masks is that they seem to work like one-way mirrors, it’s perfectly clear on the inside despite the white exterior.

More and more Bœufs pour in, some smile when they’re given masks, but others look horrified, Nero feels a little better that she’s not the only person who feels this way about these masks. Nero realizes something about the masks, because they all have ball caps to cover their heads, the uniqueness of their hair is taken away, and because of their masks now their unique faces have been taken away, this was the government's idea on how to make them uniform.

“Alright!” A drill sergeant roars, “Has every single one of you been given a mask?”

Nods all across the room. “Good. Now, a lot of you might be thinking different things about these masks, these were not given to you because of the military, even your friends who aren’t Bœufs will have to wear them if they want to cross the border. Even Recalls.”

Nero grumbles, what’s the government’s problem with them? Are they not ready to face the fact that they created Recalls and Rewinds out of the necessity that no one wanted to buy unwind parts anymore?

“In the next coming weeks, you’ll be studying. You already know that we’ve split you into medics, bœufs, and ammo makers, in the military you can be split into so much more. We plan on finding what exact practicality you fall under. Now hit the books!”

Nero goes over to the shelf to pick out a book, uninterested in anything Nero waves her hand over the bookshelf, seeing if Roland will grab at anything. He does, surprisingly, it’s an aircraft manual. Nero rolls her eyes, she goes to sit down at the table Zachary was sitting at yesterday. He’s not here yet, but Nero can’t expect someone who isn’t a bœuf to be up this early.

She watches as Roland’s hand flips through the book, he flips for a while until landing on a page with a chopper, and he aggressively points at it.

“Umm, yeah, a helicopter,” She aggressively squints at her arm. “Why?”

Nero gets Roland’s arm to flip back to the beginning of the manual, if this is really what Roland is interested in well then Nero better just go along with it. He does make up most of her limbs after all.

Nero squirms around in her seat as she flips through the manual, sure, she’s been cramping ever since her first body assessment, but it feels even worse today than it usually does. Her left arm slams against the table, it seems like Roland has gotten annoyed with all her movement, so Nero sits still, holding her other hand to her abdomen.

Two figures wearing Ward masks come to sit down across from Nero, minding their own business.

“Huh, I’m surprised you two aren’t scared of me,” Nero remarks.

“Psh, think I’m scared of some beefy bœuf, I make guns sweetheart.” One of them responds, ‘She sounds a lot like Madison.’ Nero thinks.

“Madison? Also, I use those guns sweetheart.”

The same Ward lifts her mask ever so slightly, Nero was right, it is Madison. “Nero?” She asks.

“Yeah.” Nero clutches onto her abdomen harder.

“Are you ok Nero? You look like you’re trying to get a giant cut to stop bleeding?” The other Ward asks, she sounds a lot like Ester, she probably is Ester.

“God, well, that’s what it feels like, do you think my appendix is bursting?” Nero asks, now holding both hands to her abdomen.

“We weren’t made with appendixes Nero,” Ester replies.

“Darn.” Nero mutters, “So what the hell is this? A nasty stomach bug?” Nero squirms around some more, it feels like someone has stabbed her in between her legs, and is gutting her from the inside out. Her entire body is uncomfortable at this point, both her arms are trying to soothe each other and Roland has gone all knock-kneed.

Nero looks over to the clock on the wall, it’s only just hit 6:45. Nero grimaces ‘Momma didn’t raise no little bitch.’ She thinks, neglecting the fact that she has no mother, nor was she raised, she looks back up at the clock, only about 10 more hours to go, Nero can do this.

It’s when suddenly she feels really gross, she already shoved her hand under her mask to put her palm to her face, and it’s oily. Why is it so oily and gross? And why can she feel pimples all over it? Why does it scar her face when she picks at them? There’s liquid leaking into her underwear, and Nero thinks her body is failing her. She’s already aware that Mason died before he was harvested, maybe Mason caused an infection and it’s spreading through her body. Nero can’t ignore it anymore, she has to go to the nurse’s office. As she stands it feels like half of all the bœufs in the room have their attention on her, or rather her butt.

“Wow Miss Mosaic, it seems you’ve had an encounter with the Red Sea.”

Every Bœuf except for her roommates erupted into laughter at this comment. Nero furrows her eyebrows, she pats her bum then lifts her fingers in front of her face, she’s horrified, there’s blood all over her fingers. She’s dying, she’s really dying, and everyone is laughing at her death.

The one female drill sergeant comes over and sighs, she grabs the aircraft manual and shoves it into Nero’s unstained arm.

“Go clean yourself up and get changed, you can go study in your dorm!” She barks.

“But, but-“ Nero stammers, how can she be so nonchalant about one of her students dying right in front of her?

“No buts, get out! You’ve already caused a biohazard!”

With not a second to lose to what she thinks is her untimely demise, Nero bolts for the double doors out of the classroom and out to the hallway, running over to the medical wing. There are so many thoughts going on in her head right now, they’re all from boys, boys don’t really know what goes on with girls all the time, but right now Nero is in cahoots with those boys. She knows she’s dying, it’s not until the voice of a woman rings through her mind does she change paths.

‘You’d be better off going to the bathroom.’

Nero puts her hand on the wall, panting after all that running.

‘I said you’d be better off going to the bathroom!’ The voice yells.

Nero looks behind her to the washroom, she walks into the bathroom and sits down in one of the stalls, realizing her mistake of not being in the nurse's office she starts crying. Her legs can’t move anymore, the cramping must feel ten times worse than a kick to the balls. She sobs as she watches blood drip down into the water, she doesn’t die on the battlefield, fighting for what she believes in, or not giving up important information to her enemies, she’ll die in a bathroom stall clutching onto an aircraft manual, alone and afraid.

She keeps sobbing as someone comes into the stall beside her.

“Are you okay? You seem pretty sad.”

“I’m, I’m, dying! There’s blood coming out of me, and I can’t do anything to stop it!” She sniffles.

“Like, in between your legs?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Oh,” She giggles, “You’re not dying, it’s okay, you’re just on your period, don’t worry, it’s my first time too.”

“Period?”

“Yeah, here, take this.” There’s an umber arm attached to a sienna hand that reaches under the stall to give her a small plastic tube with cotton in it, the arm looked a lot like Tonya’s, and the voice sounded like Tonya’s as well. ‘If it quacks like a duck, and it looks like a duck, it’s a duck.’ Nero thinks. She looks back to the plastic tube in her hand, “So, what is this?”

“It’s a tampon with a tampon insert.”

“Where does it go?”

“Up your vagina?! Your third hole.”

“THERE’S A THIRD WHOLE?!… sorry, I’m mostly made of boys… despite being a girl.”

“Oof, that must be rough, well, I hear you can find the vagina by starting from the front and working your way back until you find a divot.”

And so that’s what Nero does, she puts the cotton part to her bottom and works back to find that divot. “So what now?” She asks.

“You just push it up then push the piston on the end in.”

Nero does what she is told again, it feels weird, really weird, when she pulls her arms back up her fingertips are covered in blood. She takes a piece of toilet paper and wipes it off, setting it in the toilet.

“Then you just set the insert in the metal tin behind you.”

Nero turns her head behind her, looking at the metal box, “Huh, so that’s what they’re for.”

She flushes the toilet and gets out of the stall, while washing her hands she looks behind her, Tonya comes out of the other stall, Nero was right. Upon seeing her masked face and hair Tonya smiles.

“Oh, I heard Bœufs would be getting those masks today, it must be hard to tell who’s who, you must be so lost.” She flirts.

Nero crunches her nose behind the mask. “Uh, yeah.” Seems like not even Tonya can tell who’s who.

“Oh, umm, do you mind washing my skirt, I’ll be late for breakfast if I do it.” She says shyly, batting her eyelashes. She sets her stained skirt on top of the aircraft manual, Roland’s arm starts spazzing at this, Nero scoffs, “Sure, whatever.”

Nero grabs the stack and heads out to her room so she can change out of her own stained clothes. People look and snicker as she passes them down the hallway, she doesn’t care, there are more than enough thoughts on her mind. Tonya, freaking Tonya, once such a sweet girl that Nero had developed with, and now she can’t even recognize the little things about Nero, it makes Nero so mad.

She changes her underwear and pants, she sets down the manual on her bed and goes back down to the laundromat with all the stained clothes in hand.

“So, is it fixable?” She asks the laundry person.

“Oh yeah, of course, I’ve fixed millions of stains like this, I’ll call you over when they’re done.”

“Great! Thank you!”

She sits on one of the benches next to the washing machines, checking her phone for anything interesting, seeing if the news died down about the incident, nothing yet. Not before long Nero sees Sam sneak into the Laundromat for some peace and quiet after breakfast. He sees her and comes towards her, “Nero?” He questions.

Nero practically lunges at him, hugging him tightly, getting a yelp out of him. “Sorry, you’re just the person who’s recognized me today.”

“That’s so sad.”

“It really is.”

“What’s it like in there?” Sam asks about the mask.

“It’s cool, it’s like a one-way mirror!”

“Awesome!”

Sam frowns, “Tonya is still hanging out with those girls.”

“Ugh, she practically forced me earlier to take her stuff here to get washed, because she’d miss breakfast.” Nero groaned.

“Bullshit!” Sam gasps, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”

Nero howls, “No, no, it’s hilarious, keep at it!” She cries of joy.

“So, how’s Roland doing, you’d know about that, right?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know, he hasn’t texted me back yet.” She shrugs.

“Hmm, maybe one day.”

As if the devil himself had heard their call and answered, Nero gets a text from Roland. Her eyes widen and she smiles from ear to ear, and she can’t stop laughing.

“What? What is it?!” Sam shouts.

“Ian and I were discussing how Hayden Upchurch would eat Fun Dip, he refused to believe that Hayden could eat it without the stick. And guess what, we’ve got an answer, he eats it with or without the stick!”

#unwind #unwind dystology #unwind fanfic #unwind series #sequel fic #unwind oc

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nothirtysix · 1 year

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Crawling out from the depths of my cave to ask a question about your Evil Apple AU: How does the public feel about Apple going evil?- Raven Magic Anon

*crawls out of the depths of my own cave to answer your ask*

funnily enough, I've been thinking about the AU again, so good timing and thank you for the question! I want to get back to working on it so this is a nice way to use my brain. I don't remember a ton of what I've talked about so far, so sorry if I end up repeating myself.

I’m torn between ‘no one outside the school is going to know it was Apple until it’s over’ and ‘Blondie has perfected getting the news out of the school under extreme duress and is broadcasting as much as she’s physically able to’.

Considering the second one, I think it’s a lot of concern and incredulity

I finished a re-watch of Dragon Games recently and crowds/the public in canon are always a little funny - they act in the moment for whatever the story needs of them. Hysterical? Uproarious support? Turn on a dime tonal shit? They backgrounders can do it all! They’re typically swayed by the loudest person, so in this case I guess it’s more how’s Blondie feelin’ about this?

Blondie’s not really a character I have a lot of in depth opinions on (though this is making me want to do a rewatch and focus on her) so this is a bit superficial. There’s a big Incident early on that she’d get the footage of and cobble a story out of it, sensationalizing the whole thing. She’d deposit the question, is someone manipulating Apple or has she finally snapped? In terms of being able to report on what’s right in front of her, she’ll have a lot more about Apple than Raven. With Raven’s unexplained departure rumors are going to fly.

I decided to split the story’s perspective between what Apple and Raven are doing for the bulk of it (which a small part of why I slowed down). And I don’t really know what Apple’s doing yet, oops! I’m horrible at telling what’s too much of a spoiler and what’s not, but who knows when I’m finishing this! So! Apple’s going to be spending an awful lot of time with Dexter away from other people, but I’ll likely introduce other characters to keep things moving forward.

hm HM I am improvising this as I type this. The longer it goes on, the harsher public opinion is going to get. Eventually Apple feels the need to grab Blondie to change the public facing story up. They end of doing an interview and Apple is a perfect picture. If it’s a live interview Blondie will use her honed skills as a reporter to slowly weave Apple towards talking about the more unsavory parts of what’s happening. When Apple catches on, the feed will cut.

idk beyond that tho! overall conclusion of concerned and horrified?? that sounds about right. I hope you like these ramblings, I literally have no idea what I’m doing. I have to write an original fairy tale for this and I have been dragging my feet.

If anyone has any questions, send ‘em right over! they get the creative juices flowing, which is actually very helpful!!

#eah #ever after high #Blondie Lockes #Apple White #Evil Apple AU #i REALLY need to change all of the evil apple tagged posts to TEAA aaaaa #ask 36 #36 speaks #i have one braincell and it does not work #TEAA

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autumnalwalker · 1 year

Text

A Dream About Waking And Sleeping

Author's Note: No idea how my subconscious got stuck on vampires, but here we are. This was one of those weirdly vivid dreams that stuck with me so hard after waking up I had trouble concentrating on anything else all day. Content Warnings: Vampire stuff. Mentions of blood and death (because vampires). A brief scene of fantasy violence. Mention of unspecified animal hunting/death for food. Nothing graphic or in gory detail though.

I awake in a stone coffin. Or would “sarcophagus” be more accurate?

I slide the lid aside and find myself in a crypt with other such vessels of entombment. None of them stir.

I do not recognize this place.

In a daze, I explore, soon finding stairs going up. The crypt is beneath a church, or at least something resembling one. The roof has fallen in in most places, allowing snow to cover the floor.

It’s beautiful.

A man in armor of black chain and plate and brown leather leaps down from the broken rooftop to attack me with a spear, barely missing me with his initial landing. I can’t see his face under his pointed black helmet and he says nothing, silently going about his grim task of trying to impale me.

Somehow I manage to keep dodging and evading my attacker, if only just. We move from room to room within the church, but he is adept at cutting me off from any exits.

He raises a hand and several heavy books fly from a shelf behind me. The unexpected projectiles knock me off my feet, allowing the man in armor to close in on me and finish the job.

At the last moment I break free from my paralyzing fear, scramble out of the way, and pick up one of the fallen tomes.

While the man’s spear is still stuck in the floorboards I spring to my feet and begin beating him over the head with the book. Somehow this is to make him fall.

With the danger passed, it finally occurs to me how strong and fast I am. Between that and the circumstances of my waking, I find myself wondering if I am some manner of vampire or other accursed undead creature.

Funny, you’d think I’d remember something as important as dying, but now that I think about it, I can remember precious little before my waking.

To my surprise, the book in my hands is legible despite its exposure to the elements and its recent repurposing as a blunt instrument. Between it and the other books on the shelf I confirm my suspicions and learn something of my erstwhile attacker.

He was once in line to inherit some legendary sword from his father and go on to become a hero and leader of his people, but that glorious destiny was denied him when his thieving brigand of a brother challenged him for it, won, and went on to become little more than a glorified bandit. Meanwhile this man lying before me was cursed and exiled to this remote place to watch over the interred dead and put them down should they ever rise.

He was not a happy man, but he took his long and lonely duty with a sacred seriousness.

I drag him down to the crypt and lay him down in as best a place of honor as I can manage. I perform what last rites I can glean from the books.

I still feel horrified by my own action, but I try to comfort myself in telling myself that it was self-defense and at least the man can finally rest free from his own curse.

Further exploration confirms that the church is indeed far from civilization. I find nothing but snow-covered forest for miles in every direction.

I return to the ruined church.

Eventually another like me wakes. Or do I wake her? These things blur together.

She is a child, or at least she was when she died, and she continues to act like and view herself as one. She is perfectly content to play in the snow and the woods, alone, with me, or with the skeletons who rise from the crypt around the same time she does. I never am sure if it’s her that’s raising them or me. Or if they simply rise on their own.

Unlike us, the skeletons seem more like automatons than true people. They never speak and rarely act or change course from their current action without direction from either the child or myself. But every now and then I find myself wondering. Once in a while one of them will take an action unprompted, and with time I start to pick out small quirks and differences in - for lack of a better word - personality that allow me to tell them apart.

Also, unlike us, they require no sustenance.

After some days, a hunger takes me and I find myself in the woods to hunt. It turns out that I can sustain myself on the blood of animals and I bring enough back with me to feed the child as well. I’ve quickly come to feel protective of and responsible for her. Motherhood has never suited me, so I choose to think of her as a little sister.

Unlike me, she finds nothing strange about any of our circumstances and drinks the blood as a matter of course.

It’s a quiet, peaceful life we find ourselves living. For certain definitions of “life” and “living” at any rate.

But, even with regular feeding, we increasingly find ourselves growing tired. When Spring comes we return to our coffins in the crypt to sleep.

It is Winter again when I next wake, but the state of the church and the trees tell me that years have passed, not merely seasons. Neither I nor the child have aged, of course.

And so we settle into our cycle of waking for one Winter out of every four or five. Or is it a dozen? The gaps seem to be increasing with time.

Over the cycles I learn that the other “accursed interred dead” truly are the monsters the old texts claimed. I see to it that they don’t rise again.

I know not why I always seem to wake first, but it suits me just fine.

One day, I wake to find my coffin harder to open than normal. Eventually I break free to find that the crypt has been converted into a basement. The stone coffins have all been covered beneath floorboards or sealed into plaster walls. Above, the church has been replaced by a strange house. It is too warm for winter and there are sun-bright humming bulbs inset into the ceiling and adorning suspended fans. Yet, when I look out the glass window it is dark outside and snow is falling to cover the ground.

A woman hears me moving around and is as shocked to find me in her home as I am to find hers built on top of mine.

It is a long talk to explain and to get her to believe. And to not fear me. And there are enough details that I keep accidentally surprising her by casually mentioning things I’ve grown too used to to think noteworthy. The skeletons in particular get a more amusing reaction than they ought to.

Meanwhile, she explains that it has been a long, long time since I last woke. Going out hunting for game in the woods is no longer viable, for the area is too developed now. She offers to do what she can to get me and the child through the Winter until it is time for us to sleep again, whether she winds up going to a butcher or a “blood bank.”

During all of this I learn that she is a single mother. I am delighted to hear that my little sister will finally have someone else her age (in a manner of speaking) to play with.

I’m concerned though about what finally drinking human blood will do to us. Not the woman’s or her child’s of course, but what she might bring us.

#dreams #my dreams #writeblr #my writing #dreamposting #There's a part of me that wants to make a whole WIP out of this.#Maybe I'll give these characters a cameo in Empty Names at some point?#I like to imagine this story continuing as a sort of slow buildup of the characters slowly becoming friends over the course of the Winter #but with this pervading melancholy of the knowledge that come Spring the two undead will have to sleep and never see their friends again.#But then Spring rolls around and they're NOT tired because it turns out THAT'S what human blood does for them #And now suddenly what had once been a comfortable inevitability that they'd long since made peace with becomes a choice they have to make:#Continue the comfortable cycle that will one day peacefully end in simply not waking up #versus actually trying to live and adapt and all the joys and hardships that come with that.

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parcequecestnotreprojeeeet · 2 years

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Oh yes, I always hope we see something of her too when he holds his phone up to the camera... Thanks for the idea for another story. Your Strawberry

A message

He heard the clock strike midnight and fretted. He had promised his wife to stop early today and spend the evening with her. This meeting was supposed to be over by now, but it was dragging on. Unfortunately, he couldn't help it at the moment, but he would apologise profusely to her later. For now, all he could do was try to stay alert and end it quickly.

Since they had to do some research to get further, everyone reached for their mobile phones and searched. When he found what he wanted, he triumphantly held up his mobile phone to his staff. They glanced at it, but their reaction was strange. No one said anything. A moment later, they sat back and looked coyly to the side. He withdrew his mobile and realised he had grabbed his private phone instead of his professional one. He guessed before he saw it that his staff had not saw his search result. Silently, he turned his phone so that he could see the display again and read: "When are you coming to bed? I'm waiting!" Above it, in large letters, was his wife's name.

Without being able to hold it back, he started laughing heartily. He saw his staff relax and a grin appear on their faces. "Well, gentlemen. It's getting late and my wife is calling for me." He seized this golden opportunity. "Perhaps we should postpone our meeting until tomorrow?" As usual, they agreed with him, quickly packed up and took their leave. They were probably glad to have escaped this situation. When his office was empty, he remained sitting for a moment, grinning. So it was that easy to get rid of them. He had to remember that trick. He suspected, however, that his wife would not find it as funny as he did.

Sighing, he rose and went to his private flat. As announced, he found his wife in bed. She was reading a book. As soon as she noticed him, she lowered the book. Irritated, she looked at him. "I didn't expect you to come so soon." "Your wish is my command," he grinned wryly at her. "What happened?" she asked in alarm, sitting up. He settled down on the edge of the bed beside her and explained. "There was a little mishap." Questioningly, she looked at him. "We had just been doing some research. I found it first and wanted to show the others my findings." Forebodingly, she asked, "Yes?" He ran his hand through his hair and added, "I had accidentally searched on my personal mobile phone and when I held it up to my staff..." "Did my message appear?" she asked in shock. He pressed his lips together and nodded. She slapped her hands in front of her face. "You're not serious?" she asked again. "Yes, I am," he admitted.

"Tell me you didn't make it worse," she then begged. "No," he reassured her, "I ended the session then." "How exactly?" she asked, guessing that wasn't all. "I told them it was getting late." "And that was all?" she hitched. He shook his head briefly. "Now say it," she demanded. "I told them it was getting late," he repeated, adding quickly, "and that my wife was calling for me." He heard her gasp in horror, "You didn't say that!" Defensively, he raised both hands, "They smirked and I could postpone the session until tomorrow." She let herself sink back into the pillows, "This is so embarrassing." "Which exactly, your text or my reaction?" he inquired. "Both!"

Then it burst out of him again and he laughed. Horrified, she looked at him. "You think that's funny?" He nodded. "When I saw what you wrote to me and I realised that my staff had read it, I just had to laugh. What else was I supposed to do?" She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm never texting you again," she stipulated. "How can you mix up your phones?" He grinned at her, "Why would you text me like that? I should have laughed like that too." "Touché," she admitted. He nodded. "Let's look on the bright side," he advised mischievously, "now I have time for you." That made her laugh after all and he rewarded himself with a kiss from her.

Hellooooo sweet 🍓! ❤️

Hahahahaha loved that you picked Anon’s idea and wrote a piece about it! What a good laugh I had with it 😂❤️

Now, who also wants to know if something similar already happened? Because I can totally see him just messing up his phones 😂 And I don’t know why I just imagined him laughing all reddish (like that scene of Nemo peeing on the fireplace) at it while replying “my wife is calling for me” 😈😂 Hahahaha imagine Brigitte sending him a photo too 🤭😂

Thank you so much, Strawberry, for making me laugh with this! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #strawberry

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ice-and-starlight · 1 year

Note

It's been a few days, but if you were still interested in that ask meme....

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

=D Yeay! An ask!

Hooooo, okay, so, I have a LOT of fanfic that I'm theoretically working on/daydreaming about that doesn't get shared, but, uh, lets see what's not too horrifying to share...

I spent a couple of weeks a few months ago binge-watching Criminal Minds, and got infected by a plotbunny of Dean Winchester/Aaron Hotchner(/Haley Brooks) as a sort of... fix it crossover where, because they're both protagonists from rather different genres, their different approach manages to fix things in the other 'verse.

As in, Dean kills Foyet in proper I'm-fresh-out-of-hell-and-you-did-WHAT-to-my-boyfriend?! style. With added bonus 'you think you're good with a knife? Boy, have I got some things to show you. Say hello to Alastair for me when you get down there'.

And Hotch (and the team) profile the fucking devil so well they manage to talk him down from trying to wipe out humanity. (He goes off to fuck up heaven instead.)

I've gotten bits and pieces of, well, backstory written up, plus some 'Dean meets the BAU' and 'Hotch meets hunters' scenes that I love, but I've gotten stuck on something really stupid and just haven't managed to get my brain to move past it, so I haven't actually written the parts I started writing the story for yet ^^" (this happens to me a lot).

What else?

I have been working, on and off, on a Critical Role Time Travel AU that's actually kind of a spin-off of my very first Critical Role fic which is 'Molly lives rent-free in Caleb's head for the entire rest of the campaign' because as I was watching it I was constantly thinking 'but how would Molly react to this?!' so I wrote it (some of it).

And then I thought 'okay, but what if, okay, I know time-travel is supposed to be semi-impossible, but what if it is technically POSSIBLE, it's just that going backwards through time essentially destroys the soul/spirit/whatever, EXCEPT, of course, that when Caleb does it, he has a BONUS SOUL coming along for the ride, and it's basically enough for Molly to get through more or less intact?'

And then the Moonweaver is like 'fuck, you are my Most Troublesome Worshipper, what am I going to do with you?' and Molly is, you know, themself, so the Moonweaver, also being a goddess of lovers trysts, nudges things until Lucien ends up with twin baby brothers (Molly and Kingsley are both Aspects of the same being, and thus inextricably linked, so bits and pieces of Kingsley got dragged along for the ride, only not enough for him to have more than Weird Instincts) and a bonus Moonweaver Cleric mum.

Was this an excuse to write canon!verse Tealeaf triplets? Yes. Yes it was.

Did it turn into a Ridiculous Epic Saga of the Tea Leaves (Molly, Kingsley, Caduceus, Keg, and Ophelia Mardun) treking across all of Wildmount trying to save people from the future and stumbling into messes along the way? Yes. Yes it did.

Did I actually manage to write any of the actual story? No. I wrote backstory instead, and ended up mostly writing about the adventures of two separate Parent Squads that are probably... 40-60% OCs? doing a tiny little Molly's bidding. It very much became a And You Get A Parent And You Get A Parent And You Get Three Parents story.

I have Such Plans for this AU (including, importantly, a Shadowidomauk endgame), but, alas, actually writing it is proving... difficult.

One more for luck?

Hmm... I have Ideas for a Peaky Blinders AU based on my Little Sallyanne fic? It's not very well fleshed out yet, but it definitely results in Sally murdering the shit out of her brother's terrible wife, adopting her nibling, and going on to severely fuck up nazis when WWII rolls around.

This one is Percolating, and I'm really not sure what I want to do with it, exactly. Just general Vibes of Tommy being the feral gremlin mentor to my beloved feral gremlin child. (Also, Sally getting semi-adopted by Alfie Solomons, maybe, because here's this child going around claiming to be Jewish when she's not, and Alfie's like 'no, either you fucking Stop That, or you commit to the fucking bit' and Sally's like '-starry eyes- Okay Dad'. I would have to do a lot of research to do this justice because I'm aware that I don't know enough to know how to write this properly ^^" Basically, I just want everyone adopting her like a starving feral cat who will absolutely bite the hand that feeds her)

Technically, I think you can say that things like Never Simple, Not All Who Wander, and the various other unfinished things on my writing blog are all on a backburner right now? As well as the next instalments in my Somewhere Just Beyond My Reach and Gramarye and Trapped In The Amber series also count. I am Thinking About Them a lot, but there's either not enough for me to get my teeth stuck into, or my teeth are stuck and I can't chew on them properly =P

#Ask meme response #Supernatural #Criminal Minds #Critical Role #Peaky Blinders #Dean Winchester #Aaron Hotchner #Mollymauk Tealeaf #Alfie Solomons

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slothydaydreamer · 1 year

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HOTD, first impressions

(...well, second impressions, I already read like 50 fanfics, skimmed the wiki and know way too many plot points, but first impressions of watching the actual series)

Episode 1:

I liked the opening scene (and the fade-out that formed "before Daenerys" xD)

Rhaenyra is a cute lil bean. Sneaky, wild, deeply caring, avoiding duties, and very much still a child at heart at this point (when she gets introduced). It very quickly changes after that.

Daemon gets introduced by sitting on the iron throne and Rhaenyra dragging his ass off of it. Love the foreshadowing.

Alicent and Rhaenyra being baby gays lol

Rhaenyra's baby crush on Kriston lol²

Also Daemon apparently having openly the hots for Rhaenyra already LMAO to the point all the prostitutes in the silk streets know it. Now I know where that certain trope comes from. the one that gets used in so many lucemond fics

There's a lot of fucking and gore in this. :v but ya know. Whatever. Same old as in got, I'll get used to it.

I cackled when Daemon asked Alicent for her favour during the heir's tournament, right after he knocked down her brother and staring riiiiiiiiight at Otto. That's a calculated bitch move, this man has studied "causing trouble". What an absolute and notorious asshole, no wonder no one (in-universe) likes him. (I say this with love. Daemon is very much screaming "I'm here, I'm not replaceable, you can't touch me, so finally fucking pay attention to me". ...it also screams teen rebellion. I'm sorry to tell you this, Daemon, but you're a grown man.)

AEMMA 😭😭😭😭

That scene was so horrifying, the dread and betrayal I felt. When Viserys told her he loves her and she thinks he's here for her final moments before she dies in peace, and then he lets them fucking murder and torment her instead. Fuck him. Fuck the babymaker society

I couldn't cry at the moment, but just remembering how she told him before that this would be the last try, that she was so done with the process, it just breaks me that this killed her.

In the aftermath he redeemed himself a lil bit when he's genuinely grieving for her and it showed. But too little, too late, man. Way too little. Damn right you should have seen that Rhaenyra is heir enough earlier. It makes me a bit mad that it takes until Daemon's major blunder that he decides on that step. Aemma could have been alive if he decided this earlier.

Going back to other things...

Otto, you're a scheming bastard and I want to kick your balls for using your daughter. also Daemon fuck you for giving him the idea. I am convinced his jab during the council meeting at Otto gave him the motivation and the idea to push his daughter at Viserys.

Daemon calming Caraxes when it's obviously himself who's angry pffff

It was cute when he took Mysaria's hand to "calm Caraxes down". 😂

Rhaenyra looked gorgeous and regal when she was declared heir. Ahhhh.

I am throwing dirty looks at the Baratheon dude tho, he looked not so eager to bend the knee and I remember his house being a stinky oath breaker later...

The first episode hooked me and I could talk about so many more details.

#house of the dragon #watching hotd #hotd

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spinda-draws · 2 years

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The Borg of Both Worlds Ch. 9

Synopsis || After being defeated once and for all, Hacker decides the only thing for him to do is go to the real world and give the Earth brats a bit of grief. Jackie ends up being the main target for his new spree of mischief, but could there be more to the borg than meets the eye? (thank you @permanent-beta-bag-of-water for helping me edit all the parts so far)

The quaint little fairground paled in comparison to R-Fair City, though for Hacker it scarcely made a difference. He’d never cared much for places like this. Not unless there was perversity to be had.

Aaliyah and her offspring on the other hand, seemed thrilled by the spectacle of the twisting coaster rails and its shrieking passengers. Sunshine grabbed her mother’s hand almost as soon as they’d gotten out of the car, dragging her towards the ticket gate with girlish excitement.

Hacker pulled out his flier again, trying to see if there was any information on the back that would catch his interest. Surely it wouldn’t be impossible to find an appropriate spot for some alone time? He could taste a salty tang in the afternoon breeze. They were adjacent to the bay which was the first promising sign. Renting out a little yacht or even a canoe sounded ideal.

He hurried after the two to the gate, trying to get Aaliyah’s attention as she continued being dragged away by her daughter. He rubbed his hands as he noticed the Earth brat stopping to look over a map, allowing him to catch Aaliyah’s gaze at last.

“I should probably get on line for food. If we wait until she’s hungry, we’ll get a visit from the drama llama.”

“Excellent idea,” the borg declared with his usual grandiose gestures. “And while you’re at it, I’ll make sure she’s well supplied with tickets.”

“I’ll pay you back,” she said, briefly resting a hand on his arm before running off to squeeze herself onto the line.

Once Hacker made it to the front of the ticket queue, he didn’t hold back in shoving bills into the cashier’s hands. It was essential that the Earth brat remained good and occupied. Ideally until it was time for them to leave. If there was one talent she and her friends possessed, it was butting in at exactly the wrong time to ruin things for him.

But not today! Beaming at the thick roll of tickets in his hand, he walked back to where the child stood. She was busy making a numbered list prioritizing which attractions she wanted to visit. Before he could present her with the ticket roll, she’d absentmindedly slipped her hand into his.

“Mom, hurry. The line for the Sea Serpent isn’t that long. We can go on that first, and—” She slowly craned her head, seeming to realize his elegant, yet masculine fingers did not actually belong to her mother.

Hacker offered her a cheeky wave. “I’ll ride with you once if you insist, but don’t call me Mom.” He flashed a smarmy grin as she stared up at him, mouth agape and more than a little horrified.

She quickly yanked her hand away and attempted to look over his shoulder to track down her missing parent. After spotting her in the line for hot dogs, she tried to make a beeline in that direction, but was intercepted as Hacker side stepped between them.

“Why don’t you go find some other children to galavant around with?” he said, shoving the roll of tickets in her hands. “Give your mother a little break.”

“I know what you’re up to,” she said, folding her arms and refusing to take them.

“And what am I up to?”

“Bad stuff,” she muttered, eyes narrowed into slits. “Evil.”

“I’m hurt. Have all our misadventures this week meant nothing?”

“Can you at least try to tone down the flirting, Casanova?”

He practically shoved the ticket roll into her hands, his face flushing a deep red. “Do you want these or not?”

“Fine,” she sighed finally, snatching it from him. “But you better be on your best behavior.”

“I’ll be as exceptional as always.” He stuck out his pinky, causing a smile to spring to her face.

“I thought you said that was childish,” she laughed, hooking his pinky. They shook briefly before he slid his hands back into his jacket.

“Seeing who I’m dealing with, I thought it would be appropriate.”

The girl hung her head in exasperation before looking back up at him with a little smirk. “Thanks, I guess.” She closed her fist around the tickets and pocketed them.

Hacker waited for her to vanish into the crowd before searching the line for Aaliyah. Although it looked like she’d barely moved from her spot, she was no longer at the back of the line. It was as if everyone else at the fair had gotten the idea to get hot dogs at the same time and the queue now twisted back and forth along the path several times.

“It looks like we’ll be waiting here a while,” she sighed once he joined her.

“What’s the rush?” He shrugged, without a care.

Aaliyah raised a brow at him, then seemed to stand on her toes to look over his shoulder. “Did Jackie run off on her own?”

“Children,” he continued with the same flippant smile. “I’m sure she’ll find us once she’s in need of refreshment.”

Despite his reassurances, she still seemed anxious, rubbing the skin just above her elbows as she stood beside him in silence. There was something on her mind she seemed reluctant to share. Something Hacker was oblivious to as he continued to rattle off on his own.

“Clear skies. Pleasant breeze. Perfect weather for sailing.”

“Hacker?”

“What do you say, I go down to the pier? See if I can persuade someone to lend us their boat for the day? I think I could do with a tan.”

“Hacker, listen,” she said again, her tone growing more forceful. This time the borg fell silent. “Before this goes any further, there’s something I have to tell you. I know I should have said something sooner, but… I don’t think I’m ready for another relationship right now. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

As she spoke, the carefree expression slowly fell from Hacker’s face. He opened his mouth awkwardly, but shut it again, slightly befuddled and at a loss for words. First the Earth brat and now her? Was the Hacker really so transparent?

His first instinct was to deny. Had he been flirting with her? Hardly. That was just him being friendly, putting his best foot forward as it were and it didn’t matter to him whether they became an item or not.

His second was to just smile and shrug it off, but his momentarily stunned stupor threw away any chance of that being bought. Luckily for him, the moment passed as she broke her own silence.

“But you’ve been a wonderful friend. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.”

“Been a wonderful friend.” This time he recovered quickly and managed to retrieve the smile. Whatever emotion and just flashed by was masked now. There was no reason they couldn’t still enjoy the rest of their afternoon together.

At first Aaliyah seemed weary of the offhandedness of his response, but offered back a weak smile. Eventually they made it to the front of the line and she ordered for the three of them, getting a brown paper bag so she could store her daughter’s share in her purse for the time being.

They strolled through the fairground with their food, Hacker eyeing his corndog suspiciously. It was the type of fatty junk Buzz and Delete would normally drool over. The only reason he’d asked for one was because it was the only thing he could eat without hands. He’d never liked the idea of having to touch food he was about to eat, especially while outdoors.

He shot a side glance at Aaliyah who was biting into her own hot dog while taking in the passing attractions. “Have you ever been on the teacups?” she asked, pointing them out in the distance. Hacker shook his head, which prompted a huge grin from her. “Let’s go. And after that we can do the haunted house.”

“E-er, no.” He was staring down at her like he’d just discovered a bit of cat puke in his driveway.

“Don’t be scared. You just ride through on a cart. The animatronics don’t even touch you.”

“I’m scared of nothing,” he declared imperiously, turning his nose up. Aaliyah frowned, not looking entirely convinced.

“I’m terrified of bugs.”

This seemed to catch his attention though he didn’t meet her gaze. “Computer bugs, or insect bugs?”

“Both.”

“Good for you.”

Aaliyah smiled flatly at his aloof response. “Oh, come on. That’s supposed to make you open up.”

“Not a chance.”

“So there is something you’re scared of,” she cried, astutely.

“No.”

“Then you’re going into the haunted house.” She grabbed him by the shirt sleeve and dragged him to the back of the line.

Hacker desperately wanted to protest, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him look like a coward and weedy. He caught himself chewing at his lower lip, his heart pounding with every shuffle they made forward in the shockingly short line. After less than ten minutes, they’d arrived at the front.

“Y-you don’t think there’ll be ghosts, do you?”

“Probably,” she said, doing her best to fight a smile. Noticing the little smirk on her lips, he scrunched up his nose and put on the biggest frown his face had room for. “If you’re really scared, we don’t have to. There’s still time to get on the teacups.”

“Absurd,” he huffed adamantly as they were ushered into the next cart.

As the protective bar came down over them, Hacker’s expression took a sudden drop. He wiggled the bar in his lap, but it was firmly stuck in place. Before he could open his mouth and ask to be let off, the doors to the ride’s spooky mansion set piece flung open with a howl of the wind and the two were launched inside.

Five minutes and one haunted house tour later, he had been reduced to a quivering mess in her lap, still wearing a stubborn pout even as his arms practically had to be crowbarred from around her shoulders.

“Er, Hacker? It’s over.” Aaliyah said, nudging him gently as the bar came back up. “You can let go of me now.”

The borg looked around stunned, as if he’d forgotten where he was. It took him a moment to note his humiliating position and apologetically slide back to his half of the cart.

“Um, yes,” he mumbled, straightening himself up and trying to look as regal as possible. “Naturally, I was just trying to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Good, good.” He stared at her awkwardly for a moment before noticing the next riders were coming over to claim their cart.

He hopped off the ride and hurried towards the exit as if he hadn’t been holding onto her for dear life just moments before. Glancing to the side, he saw that she had joined him, a teasing smirk on her lips.

“You’re very brave,” she said, failing to hide the laughter on her lips.

“Zip it.”

They headed over toward a stone fountain at the center of the fair grounds. It was a giant, circular structure that had water spewing from the center and a rim just far away enough for people to sit comfortably without getting wet. Despite the hyperactive children that ran screaming past them occasionally, Hacker was happy for the relief from being dragged to further attractions.

“Guess what I brought?” Aaliyah said, reaching into her bag. The borg peeked over to see her pull out a sketchbook, followed by a set of oil pastels. “I thought I’d do a few preliminary sketches. Get the shape of your face down before I tried anything serious.”

As she flipped through the pages of the book, Hacker caught a glimpse of some of the previous sketches etched in it. “What do we have here?” She’d already turned to a fresh page at the point, and had started reaching for her oils when he peeled back to page to get a better look.

“Just some very, very old drawings,” she chuckled lightheartedly, resting her palm on the side of the sketchbook in a feeble attempt to cover it up.

“I think I saw a wedding dress. So you did remember where you kept them.” He gently pushed her fingers off the page and started flipping through.

There were dozens of uncolored sketches of dresses with different shapes and cuts. Many seemed to be themed around flowers as the motif appeared everywhere from the hem line to the collar across the different drawings.

“Marriage, spring, you know,” Aaliyah shrugged. “Pretty cliche right? I don’t think I could ever sell any of these, but doing them was a fun time waster.”

“If there’s one thing I know about business, it’s that it’s not about if someone will buy a product, it’s if you can sell it,” Hacker said. “If you can find your market, you can sell anything. Cliche? What I see is…” He paused to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Affordable designer.”

He continued flipping through the pages until the designs eventually transitioned to color. These he noticed didn’t appear to be dresses, but various costumes. And designed for a child no less.

“Oh these are more recent. A few Halloween costumes for Jackie. I think this one came together really well. She seemed to like it anyway.” Aaliyah pointed at a vaguely familiar looking red vest and puffy sleeved shirt. “But enough of memory lane. Do you want a portrait from me or not?”

“Yes, please.” Hacker reached across her lap for one of the waxy numb pastels. The set was out of order and several pieces were crumbling or broken, but they still looked somewhat usable. There was hardly anything left among the browns and oranges, maybe not surprising for a portrait artist, and the paper they were wrapped with was well weathered with age.

He made a dive once he spotted a green he judged to be comparable to his own. And better still, it seemed to be in relatively pristine condition. “I’ve always thought I looked best in a bright lime,” he declared, handing her the piece. “And if you wish to accentuate the form of my chin, that’ll be alright.” He held his open palm up in front of his reduced appendage, subtly suggesting the length he would have preferred.

She gave him a puzzled glance before gingerly taking the piece from his fingers. “I’m not used to doing caricatures, but I can try.”

Hacker beamed, striking the most megalomaniacal pose in his repertoire as he watched her start to sketch. When she glanced up at him again, he thought he detected a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Do you want a crown with that, your majesty?”

“Well, if it isn’t too much to ask, then, yes.”

His entire face seemed to glow as he looked at her though eyes that couldn’t help but be filled with adoration. It almost didn’t matter that she’d told him earlier she wasn’t looking for a relationship. He couldn’t imagine anything better than what they had at that moment.

Like everything else though, it didn’t last. The corners of his mouth peeled into a frown as he spotted the Earth brat in the distance. Despite his subtle attempt to shoo her away, she continued to approach them. He was just about to get up and shove her towards another ride when he felt a buzz from his pocket.

It took him a moment to realize the source was his phone. He reached for it, stupefied about who could have been calling him. He wouldn’t have even though intra-dimensional communication was even possible on his device.

Once he pulled it out, he realized it was a pre-scripted alert. He flipped the phone open and was met with the instrumental blast of royal trumpets followed by a computer generated voice. “Congratulations! You are now the uncontested and inimitable Ruler of all Cyberspace! Let’s check the instant rewind—” BOOM!

Oh, right. This was the pre-recorded message to himself he’d created in the event he did take over Cyberspace. Triggered to play if ever Motherboard was booted off the big screen. He remembered sitting in the Wreaker, editing the clip of the explosion going off in Motherboard’s room. He couldn’t help a little amused grin before his expression twisted into confusion.

“What was that?”

“What was that!?”

Mother and daughter had both spoken in unison, although one sounded far less amused. Hacker just blinked and looked down at his phone again, trying to put the pieces together himself. Before he had the chance to formulate thoughts, the siren of an Earth brat was once again screeching in his ear.

“What did you do?”

“Believe it or not, I’m not quite sure,” Hacker mumbled, puzzled but still sounding amused. “Would you believe me if I said nothing?”

“No!”

“Jackie!” Aaliyah cried, pulling her daughter towards her so she was looking her in the eye. “What’s going on?”

The girl bit her lip and to Hacker’s surprise began crying. Shaking her head and refusing to answer her mother.

“I think one of you better start explaining!” Aaliyah said with considerably more force. Hacker waited another moment for the girl to speak, before deciding to take the matter into his own hands.

“We’d always planned to explain this eventually but—” He gave a flippant wave of the hand as if expecting it to somehow finish his sentence for him. He seemed completely oblivious to the situation he was actually in and Aaliyah’s mounting horror with every syllable he uttered. “I lied. I’m not a math teacher. That was just a ruse I concocted so I could give our little Sunshine a bit of a scare.”

“Then who exactly are you!?” The woman looked like she was about to start frothing at the mouth any second.

“Mom, don’t be mad at him. He’s harmless. Just crazy.”

Hacker huffed indignantly, but held back his brewing protests. He seemed to be starting to sense he would not rise from this conversation as unscathed as he’d thought.

“I’m THE Hacker, and as you heard, I’m the rightful Ruler of Cyberspace. Prince of the Digital Realm. Despot to—”

“He’s an old jerk who thinks he’s a supervillain,” the girl yapped, merciless in her slander. “It’s really nothing, mom. And the only reason I didn’t tell you is because I didn’t want you to worry. I was with Matt and Inez the whole time and we were completely safe—”

“I’m not old…” Hacker mumbled, but was completely ignored by both parties.

“It’s just somewhere I go to meet my friends.”

“Jackie, you’re not making any sense. Are these people you’re meeting online? I-I haven’t noticed you going anywhere.”

“No, it’s— it’s so hard to explain because it’s so… impossible and crazy.” She reached for her bag and pulled out her squwak. Hacker peered over her shoulder, watching her pull up her contacts, only to see Motherboard’s was grayed out.

Hacker got up from the edge of the fountain, the reality of the situation starting to hit him. What was happening? Had someone… other than him, actually done it? He felt his human flesh flash hot. Who was it? Wicked? Warren? Some young punk he’d never heard of? He couldn’t decide what would be worse.

But how was that even possible? He’d cured the virus. At full power, nothing in Cyberspace could match the AI’s power. Nothing but him. At least that was how it was supposed to be.

“Hacker?” He felt the Earth brat walk up to him from behind and reach for his hand. “What’s happening?”

For once the borg didn’t have an answer.

#cyberchase #my writing

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the-firebird69 · 5 months

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Super 8 (2011) - He's Alive Scene (2/8) | Movieclips

youtube

So up there try to make a movie and I guess it was after westborough and we got some proof and we're working with Garth and we're working on where and when and he had an idea to help the production he's a little pushy and more so than our friend here and we're all kind of kids and he's actually a kid too a third of his size okay and he's Giants and he knows about these monsters and the chips and people need to know we are now facing a problem with these macs and they're under attack though and people know a lot of stuff but not everything. And Tommy F says he knows and we don't really believe him and he's in that case he's a nutcase and it looks like I might get set up in the future maybe not really sure and it's not exactly fair but that's what it looks like to do it and this looks like what they're doing and they're using me as a sacrifice and I am to be hurt and my clan erased as well but before I go I'm going to let them know when I think of them doing this to me when it's not their right to it's My Life

Director of the small film at the train station Depot and yes it was at where my house was and it gets destroyed and it's too bad but it's worth it and I lived in a train depot and it's horrifying with these Max are like it's from Germany and our friend says I think you can see it in a movie and someone says it's near Krakow and these words are very haunting to him and he's afraid of it because he was breaking people out and now are in trouble and the overlords are at us and they don't get it and the clones want us it's terrible

The foreigners are taking territory and we are in the max and we're fighting over it and these are being displaced they are leaving and soon we will stop the pseudo empire and Tommy f and others will be doing it too we will say this the max are very evil people and they were doing this to this person in westborough and they are over the top now and don't seem to care and you're pushing them and they know they're doing it and what they're doing is very illegal and they're paying for it and don't seem to care either I understand that they don't have their objectives met but they're not paying attention to that they are far too arrogant at this time and they lack humility and understanding and humanity and it's going to be a dragged out pull down fight

Olympus

#Youtube

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mirrors-rigor · 9 months

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Thrills and Chills: Short Stories

Mechanical K.

Drag, drag, drag. A bag about the size of a large carpet, but heavier, was being dragged down the hallway of a deserted factory. The thing holding the bag was not human, nor was it a beast holding the bag. It was a huge, ten-foot, rustic machine that somewhat had the body of a human with broad shoulders and round gears like joints. It had blue eyes that glowed, sharp rusty teeth that could bite a head off, and hands that could rip a person in half. The machine dragged the bag all the way to the end of the hallway and opened the last door. Behind the door was another machine made of bits and scraps it found. It threw the bag onto the conveyor belt that was attached to the machine it built and flipped a lever. The conveyor belt started moving; a gasp came out of the bag, struggling. The bag started shouting for it to let it out. As soon as the bag was in the machine, a short, but a loud scream erupted and all struggling stopped.

Sudden Death

A dark night, the cold misty air presses against my skin. Walking down a heavily wooded path, snow everywhere lightly touching the ground. Step, step, step. The wind blows softer and softer, then it stops. There was not a sound other than each step I took. Hearing low pitched growls behind me, I walked faster and faster. The growls turned into howls and barks as my feet were growing heavy to the ground, running. My scarf suddenly ripped off my neck. I fell to the ground in fear. The cold, snowy ground touched my bare hands melting between my fingers as I let out a loud screech of terror. Everything went black and silent.

The Cold Knife

All I remember is thinking, I don't wanna die. Feeling the cold blade against my neck, my hands tied behind my back and my eyes covered with a black cloth. Sitting on the ground, I was so terrified of the boy behind me that I couldn't even speak. But at the same time, his hands were gentle and kind. It didn't seem possible for this boy a little younger than I am, to hold a knife against my neck. I had no idea where I was. I could only tell is that I was outside in an almost deserted area. I could feel the wind and hear the crows above me. I felt leaves between my toes in the dirt, we were definitely in a wooded area. Tears streamed down my face as I clenched my teeth, preparing to have my throat sliced open by the blade he was holding. He whispered something in my ear that I couldn't make out over the frantic thoughts of dying in my head. A moment later, all I could see was blackness and everything was peaceful.

Hide and Seek: Tag You're It

Heart beating fast, the thrill of a wild goose chase, and a victim to catch; my favorite game. I walk through the night in this deep forest, looking to pounce upon my prey with the element of surprise.

I yell into the darkness with a giant smirk on my face, "I can hear your breath, it's a shame you won't hear it for long! You can run and hide all you want, but I am the ultimate player, and I will get you!"

Hearing running footsteps, I let out a psychotic laugh and start to follow the sound of heavy breathing and frightened feet. I run closer and closer into the darkness, hopping over every tree root that stuck out of the ground and ducking every branch. I laugh and laugh as I come in close to my horrified prey. I jump on them, pushing them down on the cold, dirty ground. They struggle to get free of my grasp.

"Look at your face! It has the look of terror written all over it, I love it! Oh, please scream! I would love it so much if you screamed!" I grab my knife out of my back pocket and stabbed them in the shoulder.

They scream out as they filled with fear. I let out a laugh, "Yes! That's it!" I grab a fist-sized rock, blood dripping from my hand. I repetitively hit them in the face with the rock laughing louder and louder. Silence then came upon the dark forest as I dragged the body with a large grin on my blood splattered face.

Lygophilia

I walked out of my neighbor's house-warming party furious. That couldn't possibly be true! I screamed in my head, My sister wouldn't do that!

My one and only love I had ever known fell from a ten-story building a few weeks ago. The police thought it was suicide at first, but I encouraged them to look more into it. I immediately regretted coming to the party after one of my friends in the police force told me they were going to arrest my best friend for the murder of my fiance.

The alleyway I walked into was dark, and it was calming. I started to calm from the thought of the party. I had called my sister to ask her one question, "Where you ever jealous of me?" When she hesitated, I started to feel uneasy, but her voice quivered when she said yes. I ran out so quickly that I ended up walking here to calm down. I guess I always had an instinct to go to dark places to sooth myself; I was always called the "odd child" because of that.

This time was different though. I felt the darkness seeping through my veins as I started laughing murderously, "Is this really what it's like losing my sanity?" I saw that my friend's house was close by, so I headed over there. It wasn't hard getting inside; they always left the door unlocked.

My heart started pumping faster and faster; I couldn't handle it, it was throbbing so bad I wanted to stab something. I ran into the kitchen downstairs to grab a knife and went to my friend’s bedroom. She was so peaceful in her bed, her eyes closed so elegantly, that is until I stabbed her to death. She woke up screaming for a moment and then went dead silent.

Her parents ran into the bedroom to see what was going on. They screamed as soon as they saw me on top of her, her blood splattered on my pure white blouse. I hopped off the bed with a huge grin, my heart still throbbing, thirsty for another kill. They were too slow for me, I stabbed her mother in the back several times before jumping onto her father to stab him in the head.

It was midnight by the end of it. Down the long hallway, on the top floor, was the bedroom of her baby sister. I had no longing to kill the little baby that was sleeping so peacefully in the crib. I took the baby with me and ran into the forest before the police came to find the murdered family.

Stare

A young girl walked down the hallway to her room only to see a small child in her room standing at the foot of her bed. "You nearly made me jump out of my skin."

The boy didn't say a thing but stare at her with a blank expression. He didn't seem like an ordinary boy, though he was certainly real. His eyes were black as the night sky and his skin was like a porcelain doll, but his lips were cracked. His clothes were very old fashioned compared to the clothes that were in the current pop culture.

Not wanting to break eye contact with the boy, she reached for the intercom beside her door to call her mother from the kitchen. “Hey, mom, can you come up to my room real quick?”

“One second, hun, I’m fixing your sister’s lunch.”

At this point, her heart started beating in long hard thumps gradually getting faster each second her mother was gone longer. She knew her mother would most likely not come up for a few minutes, so she started to figure out a plan to get rid of the child standing in her room. She couldn’t even fathom why a boy such as this one would be in her room at this time of night. Taking a few steps towards the boy, she tried asking his name, but he wouldn’t answer. The boy just kept staring at her dead in the eyes without blinking. She couldn’t help but think that the boy was trying to stare into her soul. Creeped out, she turned around to leave the room and get her mother. Before she could, however, the boy jumped on her back pressing a knife to her neck giggling in her ear, “I won.”

——

Authors note: I wrote these in high school. It’s been a while since I’ve actually wrote a finished story. Maybe that’s because I don’t have a deadline anymore.

#scary stories #short stories #high school writing #creative writing

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