#i know the course itself is just floating over the void but like

[delightfuldevin]

Going through species on the Mariowiki again and coming across Music Bashes, those bouncy music note guys from Music Park in Mario Kart.

The main reason I consider the Mario Kart games (and other sports/Party games) as canon is because of the many locations they have and how great they are for expanding the world. …But where is Music Park, I wonder? Currently, I am of the idea that Music Park is a wildlife reserve curated specifically for protecting the Music Bashes which are endemic there. I am hoping to learn about more locations that could potentially help narrow down where exactly the park is. Currently in my lil brain, it’s just somewhere in the Mushroom Kingdom.

#devin speaks #super mario headcanons #i know the course itself is just floating over the void but like #i think it should exist somewhere on the planet #rainbow road has the excuse of being an ethereal dreamscape like thing that can be in space #and actually all the rainbow roads in mario kart 8 actually make sense in terms of their locations #the two actually in space are on a space station and traveling over planetoids #and the other two are just over cities #but music park is just. there #so i get to bring it down to earth (or down to mushroom planet) and give it an actual greater location

[brewed-pangolin]

Fireside Whiskey

As per usual, I got carried away with this one.....

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish and Fem Reader

This is an angsty version of a drabble request @deadbranch sent in, which can be found here. This is my first time ever writing angst, so apologies if its not very good. Feedback is greatly appreciated, I'd like to get a better handle at this side of writing. Much love, and sorry for the feels.

18+ MDNI Angst into fluff. Some suggestive themes. Overwhelmed reader may be a bit triggering. And of course a touch of smut.

AN: I was going to keep this drabble pretty angsty, but the fluff took over. I don't even know if I like this, but here we are.

It was a stupid, fickle little thing. You hated everything about it. The attention, the gifts, the constant reminder of another year gone by. Everyone else wanted you to have fun, enjoy the time with friends and reminisce on the past 365 days. But you couldn’t care less. The barrage of acquaintances, people who only came out on certain occasions had you overstimulated and down right annoyed. All you wanted to do was get home and bathe yourself in complete solitariness. You had to make due, put on the happy face and deal with it, at least until everyone else had their fill. Once the alcohol took effect and inhibitions would begin to wane you would make your exit. Creep out the backdoor and disappear into beautiful loneliness.

The opportunity never presented itself, but you had to to get out. Blaming it on a headache, you thanked the hostess and the partygoers for a wonderful time and bid them all farewell, relieved to be out of the claustrophobic event. The drive home was quiet, albeit the balloons in the back of your car seemed to make a mockery of you. Blissfully floating on nothing without a care in the world. You longed for that. Wishing the worries of the world would be carried away like a breeze along a turbulent sea. Alas, there was no hope. Except for one. 

He stayed home, giving you the space he thought you needed. That’s what he told you, but you could read between the lines. Hear the gears spinning inside his head, You told him not to fret over it,

“It's not that big of a deal John. You know I don’t care for birthdays and I don’t want you worrying about it. You’ve got enough on your mind already.”

You tried not to scold him, you know he always meant well. But the broken down look on his face made your heart ache.

“I know lass, but it’s important t’me. Ya e’erythin t’me, y’know.”

John was quiet, somber. His voice barely audible above the bustling city outside. If you stayed any longer you’d only get mad, and John didn’t deserve your anger. You’d save that for the world that took him away from you for months at a time.

“I’ve gotta go, I’m gonna be late.”

And with that you were out the door. Slamming it shut, the reverberations cascading through the wooden frame and deep into the marrow of your bones.

Your mind was awash in emotion and endless thoughts. Like the steady stream of lights going by they were merely a glimpse of the past year, yet held so much memory and feeling you felt overwhelmed by it all. You wanted to escape, be rid of it all even for just one night. You wanted to feel nothing and everything all at once. Your tormented mind stewed within its confines, the brewed concoction sifting through the walls of your veins and bleeding out through your pores and into the void. An all consuming aura wrapped around you like a vice, tightening its grip with every breath. Your body trembled, knuckles white on the steering wheel and skin so taut you thought you would tear at the seams. Only one stoplight left, then home. Away from it all, closed off to the world and shed the societal skin you were always obliged to wear. 

The light was still on in your dining room as you pulled into your driveway. No doubt  John was going to wait up for you. The ever gentleman he was, molded from years of military training and discipline. You decided to leave the pesky balloons in your car, let them deflate and succumb to the world around them. And you didn’t want to bring anything else into the sanctity of your home. You had left in a strained state, and it would behoove you to leave it all outside the door. 

As you opened the door you were met with the soft smell of lavender and jasmine, its scent flowing over you like fog over a gentle shore. It quelled the knot inside you, its grip loosening with every breath and beat of your overburdened heart. He remembered. Of course he did. Lavender to help relax, jasmine to clear your mind. The thought of it made your skin blush. A warm tingle caressing over the delicate hairs of your body. You let it envelope you, allow it to absorb your worries and take them out to the wayside. Gently you closed the door and as you turned you saw him, your John, sitting at the head of your dining room table.

“Hiya, bonnie.”

The past was forgotten; he was never one to dwell over anything that couldn’t be fixed over a simple conversation. You smiled at him, the warm ambience of your home doing its job perfectly, ridding you of the cold woes you had left outside your door.

“Hey, Johnny.”

Quiet, soft, barely above a whisper. But to his ears they were a beacon. That was his cue. Not John, not Soap. Johnny. 

As he rose from the chair your heart began to race, not from worry or misconception. But from love. In its most purest of forms.

“I know y’didn’t want nothin’, but I had already gotten t’candles. Thought this might be t’best time for ‘em. Help ya relax a bit, yeah.”

In your previous state you would have taken offense to it; emotions blinding the context of what he implied. Johnny wasn’t being facetious, he was being genuine. He knew you would want to come home to warmth and simplicity. As he closed the gap between you, his arms stretched out and you caught a glimpse of the small ornate box in the palm of his hand.

“Soap MacTavish, that better not be what I think it is.”

Your playful quip had an edge of potency to it, but it only elicited a curling smirk to the face of your loving Scot.

“I ain’t gettin’ down on one knee, lass. If that’s what’yer implyin.”

His features were soft; eyes like cerulean pools that you would happily drown yourself in, and lips so subtle you could almost feel them on your own. 

You placed one hand underneath his and let the other remove the top of the box, the small golden circular top inside glistened within the dim lights of your living room. Delicately you wrapped your fingers around it and brought it into view, and the sight of it made your heart jump. Fireside Whiskey. A candle, his candle. The same one you bought for him on your first date. The same one he brought with him on all his missions. That same one you knew he pleasured himself to as he thought of you half a world away. You never told him it was your favorite, you had given it to him as a gift and left it at that. You treasured the occasional waft of it when he returned from his missions, mixing with the scent of sweat and sand into a hypnotic-like aroma. But this was wholly different.

“Need ta make some new memories wi’this bonnie. An’I know ya taken a shine to it. Ya like to linger aroun’ me a bit more when I let it burn before I see ya.”

No wonder he was a sniper, absolutely nothing got past him. You thought you were coy but he picked it up right from the beginning. Smart bastard.

Removing its golden top you brought it up to your nose and inhaled its sweet sultry scent. You closed your eyes, the smell of it traveled straight to your core and the thought of Johnny working himself to it played within the dark recesses of your mind. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, the feel of Johnny’s arm around your waist flashing your eyes open and away from the blissful sight you had created.

“Johnny..” you cooed as your body became flush with his, pressing his hand into the small of your back and making it apparently aware of the hardening erection buried within his pants. Johnny’s lips went straight to the curve of your neck, tasting your sweet flesh like a man starved for an eternity.

“That’s it bonnie, gonnae be s’good t’ya tonight. Make ya forget bout all’hat. Make ya cum s’good.”

You loved it when he babbled, so lost in the moment he couldn’t contain himself. You placed the candle on the table and brought your hands to cup the frame of his skull, fingers running through the pronounced mohawk atop his head. Your body melded with his, intertwined as his hands traversed over the flesh of your back and hips. You reveled in it, this was the everything you wanted to feel. Him. All of him.

“Take me to bed, Johnny.”

Without any hesitation his arms wrapped your waist and hoisted you up level with his hips, a playful scream escaping your lips at the sudden rigid movement. As he began to walk down the hall to your shared room you pointed back to the table in your living room.

“The candle Johnny, you forgot the candle.”

You couldn’t hide the giggle in your voice, especially as he swung you around like you weighed nothing at all.

“Ah shit, that’s t’whole fuckin point t’this.”

Quickly Johnny backtracked and grabbed the candle, putting it gently into your hands.

“Happy birthday, bonnie.”

Taking it from him you couldn’t help but crash your lips into his, letting his mouth devour you. Promptly you gave his tongue permission; he tasted sweet like cinnamon, smoke, and…whiskey. You wrapped your arms around his neck, basking in the everything that Johnny was giving you. The world disappeared, closed off, alone. Just the way you wanted it to be. It was going to be a very happy birthday indeed. 

Drabbles Masterlist

#fireside whiskey #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #angsty soap #soap squad #soap squad 🧼 #i have an obsession with scented candles #fireside whiskey is my absolute favorite

[waxysketchd]

Heya!! :D

Was wondering if I could get links or a synopsis of your Dust's Lore? Wanna keep The Guy as close to canon as possible

Of course, don't feel obligated or pressured to do it at all! Just whenever, if ever, you feel like doing it :]

HAHAHAHA WHY DID YOU ASK

NOW I'M GOING TO THROW UP ALL THIS LORE AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE ART FOR IT-

fine fine, here ya go; ..

You might know this from the original dust list, But I have 2 Dusts, Quellow and CVDust.

They are connected by lore from one timeline. [Lore go]

Org.Dust is clinically failing. His timeline is empty, no kid to reset, the core has failed. It's been much too long for him to even try escaping to the surface, he's the only monster left after all.

After mourning for one last time, he searched for a place to do the deed and off his existence, finding the core entrance... And the void consuming a part of the bridge.

His timeline is dying, unable to hold itself up against the void... To avoid all the pain and agony of being consumed... He willingly jumps in, hoping maybe- just maybe- he'd be at the end. A resting place...

IF IT WASN'T FOR MEEEEE

[Dzaster struck]

Dust goes through unimaginable pain, as his conscience and soul are ripped from his body, which floats empty in the void...Quellow is born. Just conscious for now, a fragile soul all protected in a sphere of space void matter. He's terrified, he's in pain, but he also..hopes this might be slightly interesting.

The void fills his husked body with left over DT and monster Magic, a replica.. But much much more wild, dangerous.. More Exp driven. He is cast back into the Multiverse. CVDust is created.

Quellow is given a new, comfy form..an empty house in the void.. Desk, bed... A lot of paper and pencils..And most importantly;

A ruby red pen, with a Microsoft ™️ tablet.. Brand New.

(HELP I got all this lore just for A SELF INSERT)

Adobe fresco.

#askquellow #rant #cvsanses #copyverse #I may have a slightly toxic relationship #with my own self insert #HAHAHA #oopsie

[martuzzio]

Marzo! I have questions about the Voidkind! How long are they a child for? If Xisuma has looked like he’s thirty for a long time and he’s like a billion years old, then how long would a Voidkind be a teenager or an infant? Better question, how long would a Voidkind be pregnant? Do they get pregnant? How long would puberty last? I have to see an image of teenager Xisuma. Has X ever stumbled across a very very young Voidkind and was like, “That’s gonna be a jelly bean for a long time,”

Oohohoooo, MORE awesome questions to think about! >:)

Let me answer these questions in a non-meta way first: In this AU, the Universe is multiple billions of years old (my original number was around 13B based on most scientific theories I could find on the internet, but now apparently the most recent theories place our real-life universe closer to 26B). Xisuma is pretty much as old as the Universe itself, so he's OLD old and as such, most of his backstory comes from various legends. Some civilizations think Xisuma was created from the Void itself as a fully-grown adult, while others think he was created as a baby and grew into an adult over the course of millions/billions of years. Which legend is the most accurate? Who knows. The same can be said about pregnancy -- how long does it last? Does it happen at all? Voidkind are so ultra rare that no one's ever seen a pregnant one, but that doesn't technically mean it's impossible.

Onto the meta: Was Xisuma ever a child, teenager, or infant? My immediate thought process is to veer on the side of how wild animals are born -- with enough wits about them to survive in the wild and not get eaten by something larger than them. BUT, what if Xisuma was an infant for a while? It's not like the absolute beginning of the entire Universe had any predators roaming around to gobble him up. Imagine a baby Xisuma floating through outer space in the End? :’) Imagine Xisuma as an angsty teen for BILLIONS of years?

As to whether they can become pregnant: I like the idea that they can't get pregnant at all and instead their population grows whenever the Void decides to spit out another one of them. Like Xisuma’s just chilling on some planet somewhere, sees another Voidkind, and is like “oh, I see the Void has been busy recently, new jelly bean!” LOL

#asks and answers #space outlaws lore #xisuma

[calmthefuckdownalright]

Dimensions AU

Okay I know is should be writing but I'm about to go to a big city for a Convention pretty soon and I will have plenty of spare time to write then.

So hear me out,

Technoblade is a piglin. He's violent and very heated. Nether. Obviously.

Tommy is Tommy and the closest to resembling Phil and in the Origins SMP he is literally his apprentice. Overworld.

Wilbur is often depicted as being a holder of a vocal power in many supervillain au's earning him the name Siren. What's a Siren? And underwater creature known for luring its victims to their death using their voice.

Well now you might be like "Well Vik that'd be overworked too right?"

Hahaha yes of course for this dynamic to work Qilbur must be from elsewhere. In the Minecraft community there's always talk of the Aether, a new dimension that people have been BEGGING Mojang to put into the game and now recently they want the Deep dark portal to be used for it.

So, I know very little of the Aether because I have no money to buy mods and I only have a gaming console and not a PC. (I use a laptop to write not the same thing).

What I do know about the Aether is its very much like the End in a way in terms of building style. Floating over an abyss and very dangerous.

"Well Vik why don't you just make Wil from the End-"

BECAUSE THIS IS COOLER AND IT FITS BETTER.

Everything I've seen of the Aether is a kind of blue tint to it. Ghostbur our beloved is still Wilbur and blue is a central part of his being. In Tommyinnit's Clinic for Supervillains, Siren is dressed in blues and blacks. Wilbur bleeds blue (in some headcannons) and in the QSMP Wilbur is often drawn as having a blue scarf as a tribute to his past (idk if that's Ghostbur/Dream SMP or just the UK but that's how I see it).

And for some reason I now associate Wilbur with the Aether and let's be honest, Aether just SOUNDS cool and who is cooler than our MIA of Minecraft streamer himself? This might be a difference of opinion but it all links up now.

Technoblade is from the Nether and Phil found him in a raided Bastion.

Tommy is his biological son gifted to him by Kristen (Kristin I can't find a clear answer how to spell her name (MUMZA))

And Phil found Wilbur during his adventures through the dimensions.

If you want to get technical with it, Phil found Wilbur first after he completed all he wanted in his life in the Overworld and decided to try his hand at the Deep Dark where he killed the Warden and unlocked the portal to the Aether.

After that he took Wilbur to the Nether to pick out cool stuff to put in his room where they found Techno and Wilbur proceeded to find a friend in him and Phil just adopts him as well.

Techno and Wilbur grow up as brothers and Mumza finally visits with a surprise. Tommy with his weird little wings and abrasive attitude.

To round it all out, Philza is originally from the End. Specifically I think he was a friend of the dragon and lived in an End City structure that kind of just merged with itself until it basically became an End Castle. He met Mumza when he accidentally got caught in the void and she helped him up.

-Classic love story insert here-

Anyways, someone comes along and kills the dragon which ends up in Phil getting angry and killing them but in the process he is knocked into the now open portal to the overworld and he can't get back. So instead he builds himself a home and conquers all that he can before going and looking for his way back to Mumza.

Bam how's that sound? I saw a piece of fanart on Pinterest that showed the little versions of our Brother Trio and I can't find it again so now I'm upset and just wrote it down instead.

#wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #philza and mumza #philza minecraft #kristin #alternate universe #sbi au #sleepy bois inc #sleepyboisinc

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Dream A Little Dream of Me fic series (Good Omens) part 3: “Could It Be Written In The Stars?”

Note: Rigil Kentaurus (Alpha Centauri A) and Toliman (Alpha Centauri B) are stars that, together, form the binary star system that is Alpha Centauri AB. To the naked eye, these two cosmic bodies appear to be a single star, and combined, they are the brightest in their entire constellation.

Alpha Centauri, before the beginning of time

Before light, there was nothing. Nothing other than God and her angels that would float about in her endless void awaiting instruction to begin the, for lack of a better term, beginning. The very start of time itself, and Crowley had been one of the many angels stationed at various spots across the entire universe, ready to breathe life into her vision.

With one simple phrase, an explosion of cosmic energy was in his presence, an endless collage of glistening stars in a diverse array of hues and brightnesses. One of which was his top priority for this corner of space, Toliman. Or, as it was known more commonly, Alpha Centauri. Though not as bright as the sun, the lone star radiated a beautiful orange glow. Dim in comparison to many of the other stars in the universe, though still breathtaking in its own way.

Regardless of its undeniable beauty, Crowley couldn’t help but question if something was missing.

“‘Bit dim, isn’t it?” He inquired as he noticed another angel take form in the space beside him.

“Excuse me?” The unidentified celestial being replied.

Its voice was unrecognizable, hardly resembling a human voice at all. They weren’t human, of course, but this multi-octave, deep yet ear-piercingly high tone was something that the humans could not handle. Thus, whenever Crowley had come across another angel on earth, they sounded just like every other human, and he had almost forgotten their somewhat frightening way of speaking until his mind brought him back to his time as an angel whenever he slept.

“Alpha Centauri, I mean, the description here makes it sound much more… I don’t know… glorious. ” Crowley said as he studied the godly scroll he had been gifted to help him bring the stars into existence.

The description had read:

Located 4.367 lightyears from where the earth shall be, Alpha Centauri will hold the brightest star of its constellation. Toliman shall shine brighter than any other star in its vicinity, and within the first 200 years of humanity and civilization, the humans shall use it to find the rest of the constellation it belongs to and name it “Centaurus.”

“Well, this is where you went wrong.” The angel stated flatly. As any angel would remind him, questioning the Almighty in any capacity was among the worst atrocities he could’ve committed in Heaven.

Crowley looked over, examining the creature beside him. It held no discernable features, wearing a white robe identical to all others at the time, and a colorless void where a face would be. The angel had no identifiable appearance, voice, or personality. Much like how he viewed the real angels up in Heaven in the present day, afraid of expressing any original thought whatsoever.

Because he’d had some amount of control over his dreams, Crowley would not allow his brain to imagine himself in the same dull, self-expressionless attire. His departure from Heaven may have been involuntary at the time, but knowing what he knew now, he would never dream of going back, even if he could. Crowley was different, and vowed never to let himself become brainwashed like the angels he once identified with. Whenever he’d come back to this place in his mind, he’d be wearing a robe of a solid black, the same as all other clothes he wore when he was awake. Clothes that he chose, and nobody could tell him not to wear.

“I know.” He muttered as he examined the differences between himself and Heaven’s view of a perfect angel: completely void of any individuality.

“But, I don’t regret it, y’know,” he continued, completely void himself, but only of any remorse regarding how he had questioned things all those years ago. “I mean, falling is the worst thing an angel could possibly go through, but, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be… me.”

”Maybe that’s a good thing.” The empty void hissed, its threatening voice booming all around him. Crowley rolled his eyes, unphased.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I hate myself, I hate this cursed eternal existence, my life is filled with mistakes and inescapable dread, and blah blah blah…” he rattled off unseriously, “but I can’t help but wonder if it’s worse to live in complete ignorance of the pain and suffering that you help inflict onto undeserving human souls. At least as a demon, I’m aware of what I’m doing and can stop it every once in a while.”

The angel remained silent as Crowley trailed off, deep in thought about his role in human suffering and how he never wanted to be a part of it in the first place.

“You lot think that you’re so pure and good,” he sneered, “but the reality is that when you cause pain to someone trying so hard to live their life in your image, it hurts just as much as if a demon had done it.”

Unable to figure out why, he expected the angel to argue back. To challenge his way of thinking rather than doing what an angel would normally do whenever a demon questioned the will of God, smite him. Instead, the angel said nothing. The stars surrounding them began to flicker on and off like a lightswitch, and as Toliman’s orange hue began to fade into the deep and dark nothingness behind it, the angel faded as well. The deep rumbling of an ever-expanding outer space was replaced by the eerie silence of the real world at this hour. His room was almost as dark as space itself, his serpentine eyes only able to make out the faint outline of the minimal furniture surrounding him.

-

Read the rest here

#wip wednesday #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfic rec #alpha centauri #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3fic

[aliendater-moved]

i never thought, i didn't think twice

ship: viv/morden

word count: 990

summary: viv and morden and how their relationship is in two of the timelines seen in bab.ylon 5: the road home. spoilers for that movie!! these characters are a little evil

[ao3 link]

i.

They win, as expected. 

There are a few moments where ze thinks it is all over as ze watches at his side, from the interior of their ship — in the battle before the victory and in the historical pathway leading up to the battle. John Sheridan dropped a bomb on their planet's capital city when ze was off-world, and ze wasn't even there to—-

There are a few moments where ze feels that hopelessness ze felt on Earth slither into place again. The Army of Light calls in the other First Ones as backup, but they have been away for so long that they've grown softer, they've been gone for so long that they've forgotten the way the Shadows work, their strategies and methods in battle.

Even with the Vorlons, they were always going to win. That is evident, now.

Viv exhales. Watching the space around them on the ship's screens, debris of destroyed vessels floating around the Shadow ships like sick inverted halos, ze turns and watches Morden soak up their victory. He looks invigorated, only energized by the destruction they've witnessed -- entranced by it, almost, captivated by the suspense and relief. It has a certain beauty to it, ze thinks, and then: maybe that's not the right word, maybe that's the worst word possible to attribute to this kind of attitude, this affinity for decimation, but ze shed all tethers to morality long ago. Now, in the moment, ze can only feel hir fondness as ze witnesses him at the peak of his power.

On the other hand, ze knows, he never doubted their ultimate victory. Morden has - hm - an egotistical confidence in his efforts, but apparently it's not an unrealistic self-obsession. They won. Chaos prevailed. They brought themselves here, together, embracing in an eternal spar. They calculated their moves to the perfect algorithm, played the game against itself, secured their position in victory with their minds weaponized. It wouldn't have been this way without Viv and Morden.

He smiles when he sees Viv's gaze. Still it is a smile drenched in his power-drunkenness, but that's irrelevant now; he pulls Viv closer, kisses hir with a passion that could strip hir of every layer of flesh and muscle, kisses hir in a way that howls I NEVER DOUBTED. They're sharing their victory, passing it between the void where their souls should reside.

They can rebuild on Z'ha'dum. Nothing lasts forever -- most things don't last forever.

There's shrill Shadow discussion in the background, and when they pull themselves away long enough to parse it, the passion melts into desperation:

”Did they just say---“

”I can't believe they'd do that,“ Morden says, his disbelief shattering itself on the ship's floors. Of course they would do this. ”It's Earth. Billions of people. Even more than Centauri Prime.“ 

Viv puts hir arm around him. “They're being pathetic,“ ze offers. ”Like children who can't handle losing a game.“ Ze pats his shoulder. ”At least we won.”

Morden shrugs. “You're being awfully nonchalant about the Vorlons destroying Earth.”

“Nothing there for me anymore,” Viv responds, hir eyes darting to the side, studying the ship's paneling, studying the view of space again, studying everything except the reality. “Unfortunate that we'll be losing our allies, I guess.“

Viv hears him draw out a long, stressed sigh. ”No,“ he says. ”Nothing left on Earth for me, either.”

“Collateral damage.”

ii.

Viv puts down hir paintbrush, places it gently into hir cup of mud-brown paint water. He's calling hir again; it's the second time this week.

The first call had been - neutral. He had been informing hir of something he found when reviewing old research, an ancient language from a world with coordinates suspiciously near where ze remembered Curcul had been. The  examples Viv provided had a lot of similarities, and he wanted Viv to be aware of it. He smiled the entire time as he went through slides, his voice smooth as he pronounced each word, and there's no way in hell Viv got even half of what he was saying. Which isn't conducive to completing the project, obviously, but at least he's sending a data crystal.

Viv tries to make hir appearance into something even slightly resembling composed, and then ze answers the call. Dr. Morden's face floods onto the screen, a bright patch of sunlight peering out from behind him.

“Well, hello,” Viv says. “What's going on?“

His expression is warm, but the exact mechanics of it are indecipherable; if ze had to guess, ze would say he looks almost nervous, but that isn't quite right, either. 

“I'm sorry to bother you---”

“Never a bother.”

“---Right. Well. Looks like my data crystal got lost in the mail.”

Viv frowns. “Oh, how'd that happen?”

“They're calling it an 'unexplained mistake.'”

“Of course they are.”

He laughs. “But I thought this information might be important, so I was wondering if you'd like to meet me somewhere and I can give a new one to you in person?”

Viv feels hir face heat up, which is stupid. He's just being thorough, there's nothing else behind the gesture. But ze answers a bit too quickly: “Of course, I'd love that.”

“You can update me on, ah, your project, too. It's very interesting.”

“Thank you. I've dedicated most of my life to it, as you know, so I'm glad at least someone else out there cares.”

“You know, if you wanted, I could help get some of your work published. It really is rather impressive, and I'm sure other people would agree.”

“I... I'll think about it. It's really just something I'm doing for myself, but I've never really thought about any of that before... Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.”

He smiles again, again. “I'll send you the address and time. Let me know if it works for you.”

“I will.”

The screen flickers off.

It's starting to feel like there's something else behind the gesture.

#pepper.txt #my writing #ok to rb

[thaliasthunder]

coming home again 😌

chapters 1-5

WHEN I WAS BORN, the name for what I was did not exist. -> SO WE BEGIN

By then they had learned what the four of us were. You may have other children, they told her, only not with him. But other husbands did not give amber beads. It was the only time I ever saw her weep. -> 👁👁

“A prince, I think.” “A prince?” my mother said. “You do not mean a mortal?”-> omg i dont remember if its odysseus or another

"And her chin. There is a sharpness to it that is less than pleasing.” -> oh oh once i read something about this related to the ancient world but i'll make a another post about it

damnnn, my girl is named HAWK

My father has never been able to imagine the world without himself in it. -> ….. apollo where u at

His flesh was hot as a brazier, and I pressed as close as he would let me, like a lizard to noonday rocks. -> this comparation was lovely

“You,” he said to my luminous sister Pasiphaë. “You will marry an eternal son of Zeus.” He used his prophecy voice, the one that spoke of future certainties -> oh pasiphaë what awaits u 💀💀💀

“Father, I feel strange.” -> humanity? power? firsts glimpses of satisfaction from humans' pain? dont be shy girl tell me

“That he fucks them, of course. That’s how he makes new ones." -> okay i was not expecting that explanation neither that lenguage 💀💀💀

Such were my years then. I would like to say that all the while I waited to break out, but the truth is, I’m afraid I might have floated on, believing those dull miseries were all there was, until the end of days.-> oh the poetry of melancholy

There had only been Titans once, at the dawning of the world. -> MA'AM DONT

“Is it true that you refused to beg for pardon? And that you were not caught, but confessed to Zeus freely what you did?” “It is.” “Why?” “Perhaps you will tell me. Why would a god do such a thing?” -> ….....oh

My uncle Boreas and Olympian Apollo had fallen in love with the same mortal youth. -> EJKCJEK APOLLO Y HYACINTHUS MY BELOVEDS 😭

“You think I’d let Apollo have him? He does not deserve such a flower. I blew a discus into the boy’s head, that showed the Olympian prig.” -> oh u son of a bitch

Circe was the first word he ever spoke, and the second was sister. -> Aeëtes my young little boy <3

How does your divinity feel? “What do you mean?” “Here, let me tell you how mine feels. Like a column of water that pours ceaselessly over itself, and is clear down to its rocks. Now, you.” -> ??? im sobbing this is endearing 😭

“A conch.” “And what is in that shell? “Nothing. Air.” “Those are not the same. Nothing is empty void, while air is what fills all else. It is breath and life and spirit, the words we speak.” My brother, the philosopher. -> i love u aeëtes

Let me give you some advice. Next time you’re going to defy the gods, do it for a better reason. I’d hate to see my sister turned to cinders for nothing.” -> oh im sure she will

And that is when I saw the boat.-> wha

I remember the jump in my throat when the sailor lifted his face. Burnt it was, and shiny with sun. A mortal. -> OHOH A SAILOR A MAN

His name was Glaucos, and he came every day. -> mmh u will be a problem i can tell

“I will grant your wish and fill his nets. Yet in return, let me hear you swear you will not lie with him. You know your father thinks to match you better than with some fish-boy.” “I swear,” I said. -> ….something's gonna end bad in here 👁👁

I was too wild to feel any shame. It was true. I would not just uproot the world, but tear it, burn it, do any evil I could to keep Glaucos by my side. -> goddammit unhinged women loving must be the most feral and wonderful thing in the world gO GIRLIE TEAR THE WORLD APART

What could make a god afraid? I knew that answer too: A power greater than their own. -> EJKRJE GO FERAL WOMEN

His eyes opened. For the passing of one breath he did not move. Then he leapt to his feet, towering like a storm-surge, the sea-god he had always been. "Circe," he cried, "I am changed!" -> omg she made him a sea god !!

“That round-faced nymph,” he said, “the beautiful one. What is her name?” -> MMHHM 💀 this love wont last long

The truth is, I had begun to wonder if she was in love with me. -> AKDJAJSJAK 😭

His hands lifted, as though to ward me off. He, who was a towering god. “You have been a sister to me,” he said. -> MF U JUST NOT SAID THAT 😭😭

But of course I could not die. I would live on, through each scalding moment to the next. This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh. -> …oh

The halls would echo with her furious screams and the great gods would come to whip me, but I would welcome them, for every lash upon my skin would be only further proof to Glaucos of my love. -> dONT BLAME HER LOVE MADE HER CRAZY. IF IT DOESNT DO IT TO U U AINT DOING IT RIGHT

#guys u dont understand the longing i had to read madeline miller again #the longing i had for her writing was palpable and unbearable #LIKE #missed her way of crafting words so deeply it HURT me #so naturally i couldnt help myself but to go for it #worth it is what it was 😌😌😌 #now i welcome circe to my mind and soon to my heart #and of course ask u to come in this adventure w me 😌 #circe #madeline miller #books #tsoa #greek myth #yes grecia reads sometimes

[anandabrat]

Once upon a time, like two weeks ago, @starshipblueberry said I’ve got this idea about Nightmare Before Christmas and Bering and Wells, and I said, “That’s a fabulous idea. Can we Good Omens it?” 

So we wrote it in patchwork, one day each trading off. We weren’t supposed to peek. It was supposed to be like Christmas. Like an advent calendar for each other.

That didn’t even last a day. We texted each other back and forth for hours. We left breadcrumb trails for each other. We thought we had the ending sorted out like five different times before we actually wrote it.

Two weeks later we were reading over each other’s shoulders in Google Drive and screaming and begging each other to let the other start early. 

We’ll be releasing it serially (how else?) from now until Halloween. Technically, it’s a slight AU, because we wanted to set it in season 2, but have Steve, because Steve.

We hope you enjoy the resulting madness. We certainly had the best of times writing it.

The room goes dark by degrees. The lights dim until the floor disappears. The music coming from the record player that had been only feet away fades out as a much larger sound fades in; a surround-sound version of the same music, and then there’s ghosts silhouetted on gravestones and then they float past her, and they’re singing now…

“Pete,” Myka shrieks into the void, “goddamnit, what did you push this time?”

There’s no reply - of course not, why the hell would there be a reply. Myka steps forward and curses for a second time as her foot encounters something metal and affixed to the floor that certainly was not there seconds ago. She gropes in front of herself. It’s… it’s a chair. A theater chair - she can feel the threadbare fabric covering the front of it with her fingers.

Myka groans.

“Pete? Helena? Where is everybody?" 

There's monsters of every description filling up the space in front of her. They’re too far away to touch when she stretches out a tentative hand, but incongruously close enough to make out the textures on ratty clothes. There’s a clown on a unicycle. Vampires. A tree full of skeletons dangling by their necks. They're all singing a very complicated tune that keeps changing keys.

"Pete, I swear…" Myka tries moving sideways this time and feels the chairs stretching on as she moves, and the familiar feel of the back of a seat bumping against her legs. She turns her head and sees nothing but darkness behind her.

A spotlight suddenly shines down directly above her, making her flinch, then instinctively freeze. It's a classic nightmare, the one Myka still has about starring in a play she’s never rehearsed. Wind whistles through her hair hard enough to blow it sideways. The wind itself is singing? She shrinks back unthinkingly against the seat back, but it doesn’t feel like a theater seat anymore, more like a chain-link fence. 

And just like that, the spotlight disappears, and the theater seat rearranges itself around the back of her legs. She hears Artie's voice for a long, baffling second and she swings her head around wildly, looking for the source, but surely he can’t be that faraway shadow on the moon, because if he is they’re really screwed this time.

“Pete!” she hollers one more time, just for good measure. Still nothing.

Then Helena - hair slicked back, skin pale as milk, huge dark circles around her eyes, stunning in a pinstripe suit - Helena rises majestically out of a fountain with werewolves and witches dancing and singing in circles around her, bowing and smiling like she’s the fucking mayor of Creepy Town, and Myka starts screaming for her for all she’s worth.

Then the screen in front of her shimmers, and Myka knows enough about endless wonder to know that this is her moment. She jumps up on a seat and dives for the screen. She tucks herself into a roll, expecting some bumps and bruises, but it is surprisingly painless. 

She stands up and looks everywhere for Helena, but she can’t see her. There are witches and ghouls and a terrifying clown. But as scary as all this is, it is her own hands that horrify her, bringing her to a stand still, Helena forgotten. 

Her skin is purpley-blue, and at her wrists, elbows, bicep, and shoulders there is a dark twisted thread that sews her flesh together. She feels soft and smells like a sweet decay, like a fall day after it has rained. 

“What is happening…” she whispers, running her hands along her chest and face finding similar scars there. “This is a dream. This is the warehouse and this is a dream. This is not real.”

“The deadly nightshade you slipped me wore off, Sally!” A small creaky voice barks at her and wraps a small but strong hand around Myka’s wrist. 

This is not the first time Myka has found herself wearing someone else’s face, so she doesn’t ask who Sally is. But everything in her, even the artifact controlled part, knows that she wants to be as far away as possible from this tiny man in a wheelchair. 

“Let go!” She tries to break the wrist grip but it feels like her muscles are made of fluff. She can’t get free. This man is gonna drag her away to god knows where, and how will she find Pete so she can ask him what the hell he did? And Helena! Where did she go?

“You’re not ready for so much excitement!” The tiny man declares. His head seems to be half tin plate — where on earth is she? What is this place?

“Oh, yes I am!” Myka pulls with all her might. The lack of response from her muscles is terrifying. It’s like a nightmare where you are freezing or stuck in sticky molasses. What is she gonna do?

“You’re coming with me!” He starts up the engine on his chair and drags Myka behind him. She could stop resisting and go with him and see what she can learn. But Helena was so close, and what if the misty door spits her out into the theater before she can find her?

“No I’m not,” Myka roots down into the ground and pulls with all her might. 

When the seam pops, it stings a little. 

***

"Aww, c'mon!" Claudia groans to herself, gesturing towards the stage, "how come it's always the two of them? They don't even know why this is the most awesome thing to ever happen around here!"

"That's why it's gonna be the best thing that ever happened around here," Pete says from behind her. He swings his leg over the seat and slides down next to her. "Sugar cookie?"

"Hey, thanks. Where'd you get those?"

"Figure it out, pop culture girl. You're the one with the thematic tattoo. And can't you just check your script?"

"You got a script?"

Pete grins. “Ho ho ho. Have you been a good girl this year, Claudia?”

#bering and wells #myka bering #helena wells #warehouse 13 #collab post #my fic #nightmare warehouse

[lamuradex]

Eight Deaths

Part 4 - Prev - All Parts - Next

Fourth Death - Despair

Artemis awoke in the dark. There was nothing, not even a floor. As he went to stand, he managed it, but even so the ground seemed notional. He was in the empty dark.

His mind took a moment to gather. He remembered… he remembered being in a building. He remembered something looming over him. He remembered… lightning.

With a start, he flurriedly checked himself. His chest was unharmed, tight bandages beneath not even scorched. It then took him a moment, but he could see the bandages. He could see himself, even in this infinite dark. He furrowed his brow and thought.

“Artemis…” a voice echoed.

A chill ran through him. He looked. A shape was taking form. A frail, shambling, veiled shape, shrouds hanging off of withered limbs.

“By the pits…” Artemis cursed, as more memory came back. “You’re…”

“Despair. I am sorrow. A life ending itself,” the creature hissed, its voice echoing in the void.

“But… but I didn’t…” Artemis floundered. The thing grew closer.

“I know you, Artemis. You have conjured me to your thoughts many times.”

“I’ve been alive a long time. Of course I’ve thought about it.”

The thing didn’t laugh. There was a greater chill to its words.

“You know me, Artemis. And now… you are mine.”

“No. I can’t. I can’t have died like this!” Artemis retreated, though it didn’t seem to create any distance.

“You have lived so long, Artemis. Why resist?”

“Because I don’t want to die,” he said fervently. “I might have lived more than a thousand years, but that doesn’t mean I’m bored of life. I’m not scared of death, but I’m certainly in no hurry.”

“And yet here you are.”

Artemis tried to summon a spell, but nothing formed. He raised his hand fruitlessly. The nightmare grew closer, extending a hand.

“Just give up, Artemis.”

“No. I can’t. I need to… I need to…” The memory slipped away. There was a gap there.

“You don’t remember?”

“I need to…”

“There is much you don’t remember, correct? How much of your life have you forgotten?”

“As I said, I’ve lived a very long time. You can’t remember everything.”

“But the things you wish to forget? The things you made yourself forget?”

Artemis stared hatefully. This thing kept shuffling closer, but never seemed to reach him. He wasn’t sure if he was running away or not.

“I forget because I have to,” he answered sternly.

“But this is the life you cling to? Such things in your past that you would like to erase. Such sins that even you can’t stand to remember them?”

More shapes took form in the void. Floating images, places, people, events. Many of them featuring him. Many of the featuring tears and pain and blood. He had been around a long time.

“I know I’ve made mistakes in my life,” Artemis argued.

“Such that you don’t remember?”

“Exactly,” he grabbed the point triumphantly. “I don’t remember these. I have no idea if what you’re showing me is true or not.” His eye caught a few. Him working with some pirates. Him being hunted by two women he had wronged. Him as a child in his home, which he knew had long since turned to dust.

“You forget because it easier. You forget because it makes it simpler to live.”

One image caught his eye. A young him watching a woman murdered in an alley, unable to stop it.

“I forget because… because I need to let go of the past.”

“Your sins are too great.”

“No they are not!” he yelled. “I have made mistakes, certainly, no doubts, but they aren’t forgotten. I’ve erased some memories, sure, but that’s only to let things go. Let others move on. But those sins aren’t lost. Every one of them is written down in a book, a book of my drafting, and I know them, even if I don’t truly remember.”

“In a book you would never read.”

“Well, no. Would you, pages filled with your greatest mistake?” he challenged. Despair still hadn’t reached him.

“But you know it can only end one way, Artemis.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re immortal, or at least without age. You are a skilled fighter, so no one can conquer you. Your magic is great, so no sickness will take you. Beasts could never claim you, and you are not so stupid as to let chance be your end. There is only one Death that will claim you. And sooner or later, it will be me.”

“I told you before-”

“One day, Artemis. One die you will tire, and then it will be you yourself who has to end it. One day, it will be by your own hand you die.”

Artemis recoiled. It still hadn’t reached him.

“You’re… wrong,” he said, realisation dawning. “And you don’t have me now, do you?”

Despair had no expression, but he imaged annoyance.

“If you’re trying to convince me, then there’s still a chance. I’m not dead yet.”

“But what is the point?”

Artemis’s hand went to his pocket. An empty pocket. The final proof that this wasn’t real. The lantern wasn’t there.

“If I’m here, then I’m not dead. Not yet anyway. Because, even struggling as I was, I’m not stupid enough to just end my own life,” he described, fighting to remember. “But I had spells. Healing spells. And, if I know myself, then I would only have shocked myself to stop my heart briefly. So, if I’m truly not dead, then all I need to do is…”

He reached deep, struggling to reach his body. If he focused, he could still feel the pain in his limbs, the wood of the floor, the burning in his chest. And there, amongst the sensations, just the faintest flicker of a heartbeat. He focused and reached for his magic.

“I just need to get it started.”

He focused. He summoned a small burst of healing magic. He couldn’t aim it, but it would have to find it’s way. A warmth rushed through him, which resonated in the soul before Despair. And then, like a minor earthquake, his entire self juddered. The darkness began to fade. Despair began to vanish.

“This changes nothing, Artemis,” the shade said as they faded. “One day, I will be how you meet your end. It’s only a matter of time.”

And everything vanished.

Artemis awoke, aching, sore, and in every other kind of pain he could think of, lying on the wooden floor of a tower. He raised his head and peered down, spying scorch marks and singed bandages across his chest. A hand went to a pocket, the lantern discernible beneath the fabric.

Artemis lay back and laughed.

It was good to be alive.

#writeblr #short story #lamura dex writes! #writing #writers on tumblr #EightDeathsStory #Despair #Artemis Sahir #fantasy #magical fantasy #tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: suicide #tw: suicide mention

[powdermelonkeg]

So, BO2W Breakdown

Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one.

Here we’ve got Ganon’s...energy taking over Link’s arm. Ordinarily, I’d call it Malice, but based on what it turns into, I’m just going to be calling it corruption. We don’t get much information from this scene besides this expression:

Link’s grabbing the corruption with his other hand, and wincing. It looks painful. I personally think it’s for cinematic effect that it was included, but it COULD be a gateway into a Phantom Hourglass sort of mechanic--Link has to function on a time limit, or using the corruption’s power could drain his life.

Next we’ve got a closeup of Ganondorf. F in chat to the rehydration theorists.

And the closeups of his jewelry. The only significant thing I can see is his necklace, which looks like a cross between the Gerudo symbol and a Fleur de Lis:

But what I’M most interested in is this tie on his belt:

For one, it’s WAY bigger than it needs to be, and that’s deliberate. Ganondorf’s got a jewelry aesthetic he’s already hit above; everything else is gold, why not this bit?

Most importantly, you can barely make it out, but the designs either look Sheikah or Zonai--they’ve got that same kind of swirly busy pattern to them. The red tint and tan-ish lines in it makes me think it’s possessed Sheikah tech.

Next, we’re shown Zelda falling. This looks like it happens right after these two caps from the first trailer:

So we reach for her as the ground collapses, and evidently, we fail to pull her back up. So my next question for that scene is going to be what the in-game reason is for us not diving in right after her. Maybe we won’t get one, since the appeal of the original BOTW was that you could fight Ganon whenever you wanted.

Up next, we’ve got a skydiving shot:

The first thing to notice is that Link’s pose while skydiving is just about identical to his pose in Skyward Sword:

Second is that, yes, he’s falling towards a floating island, and that in itself is noteworthy, but he’s FALLING. There’s something either above him that he jumped off of, or a force that carried him high enough TO fall, and I doubt Nintendo’s encouraging magnesis flying.

So, there’s a few options: Loftwings making a return (which is unlikely, but a hope I have), something like Revali’s Gale boosting Link up for a cinematic shot, indicating that the corruption arm has that kind of power, or islands higher than the one shown here.

Now the island itself:

In Skyward Sword, Skyloft looks like this:

And (spoiler alert) we loose this island here over the course of the game:

Now, it’s not a PERFECT 1:1 match, as most things between games aren’t, but a quick rotate and overlay shows it’s got the same kinds of shapes between the two. The same “W” shape along the eastern side, the same tiny island off the northeast point, the same relative edges.

Now, I don’t know what happened to the plaza at South Skyloft, or the Knight’s Academy isle, but it could very easily be drift away from the central island.

The presence of other islands through the clouds seems to support that theory. Now let’s look at Link here:

The outfit is new. We haven’t, to my knowledge, seen one of this design in other games. My gut reaction to this image was “oh, we go back in time and we’re the first hero now!” because it’s vaguely reminiscent of Tapestry Hero.

But upon closer inspection, that theory’s null and void. Under Link’s tunic in the image above, you can see that he’s still wearing the shorts he woke up in in the first game. So either Sheikah boxers haven’t changed in 10,000 years, or it’s taking place in present day. Jokes aside, I’m curious to know if the outfit he’s wearing is modeled after Tapestry Hero.

Next thing to point out is the obvious:

Link’s arm here looks less prosthetic and more...withered, I almost want to say. The corruption here’s made his hand look frailer, and armored them up with Zonai patterns before it fades out at his shoulder. Based on how the tattoos look, I think they’re an artifact of the corruption taking hold.

Also, the belt here:

Aesthetic purposes, or specific function? The presence of the second, smaller one on the side reminds me of Skyward Sword’s adventure pouch, which could be how the new game handles inventory size:

Next we’ve got another flying shot:

It seems like he’s flying towards Ruined Skyloft, and you can see the bottoms of islands above it, possibly meaning that the sky serves as more than just a hub world like it did in Skyward.

Now let’s look at the paraglider he’s using. It’s new.

This is how the paraglider looks in the original BOTW. It looks like we still have the Rito symbol in the center, but other than that, there’s a LOT of changes here.

First off is the color. We’re now blue and gold. The shade of blue makes me think of the Kochi Dye Shop’s navy blue:

So, possibly a dyeable paraglider?

The new pattern surrounding the Rito symbol makes me think that it’s combining the paraglider with Skyward Sword’s sailcloth:

Other than that, there isn’t much else to say about the paraglider besides the handles looking like they’re made of bone. Craftable paragliders? God, I hope not.

Back to Link:

Here we have him in different gear than the last shot. He’s wearing the snow boots, he has a shield with a stylized Eye of Truth looking upwards, and he looks like he’s carrying a traveler’s sword and an unknown bow. The presence of the bow makes me think that the shield here is a lower tier item, rather than this game’s Hylian Shield equivalent.

Now, let’s get a better look at the horizon:

The trees here look a lot like the smaller trees you can find in Akkala, but there’s a distinct lack of red among them.

Then it looks like we’ve got some ruins at the furthest isle.

Whatever the rock formations are over there, they don’t LOOK natural.

Another thing I noticed is the bottoms of the islands.

These look a little too geometric to be natural, too. Now, this one, I’m a little muddy on, because it COULD be a stylistic choice. But it also reminds me of the Shrines if you clip out of bounds:

And a little bit of the dormant Gate of Time from Skyward:

My money’s on the cube-like nature of the islands’ undersides being deliberate, rather than just a far-off render.

And then there’s this thing!

What is it? It doesn’t look broken at all; look how nicely the roof(?) is kept. The ribbing on the sides makes me think it might be a Zonai thing, but the shape makes it difficult to figure out. A giant temple? An airship? A sloped coliseum? This thing haunts and vexes me.

Our next shot is presumably from one of the islands, based on the color. Here we can see that there are definitely ruins all over the place. Link is in the same gear as before, so I won’t touch on him.

This, however, has my interest. The design here has more geometric patterns--Zonai ruins?

We’ve got another one off in the distance here. Sky checkpoints, like Sheikah towers?

Now this guy here. There’s a LOT to look at. First off is the eye design, it’s the same sort of upward looking one that Link has on his shield in the previous shots.

The energy that’s pulling this thing towards its base looks like the same green energy that surrounds the arm holding Gan in place in Trailer One:

This stuff. That, plus the fact that the robot has to be pulled into its base rather than just existing, implies that either A: Link activates it himself, like a trial thing, or B: that the green energy here functions in the same way Malice does in the original BOTW.

This pattern at its base is intriguing, too. I don’t recognize the gold symbol in the center, but the green around it reminds me of the portals from Twilight Princess.

Which, yes, everyone’s already said that the Twilight Princess patterns look like Zonai things. But another thing this weird dial thing reminds me of is from Lanayru Desert:

On top of that, the color palette of this guy looks like that of the Lanayru Robots from Skyward:

BO2W robot on the left, Lanayru robot on the right. Given that Skyward is a lot more vibrant than other non-Toon Zelda games, I think this is a fair enough comparison to draw similarities from.

And then we get a closer view of the sky ruins from the last shot. I don’t know if the geometric pattern in the corner is a deliberate carving, or wear from time, but since the pattern looks ALMOST mirrored around the corner, I’m going to go with the former.

A better shot a few frames later. The robot has HANDS, which I do not like in any way shape or form. However, we get a better look at the sky ruins.

We haven’t seen this style of stairs before, to my knowledge. The pedestal out front looks like a light source, and it has the same floral egg thing the robot above has on each shoulder; the eggs could easily be a power source for Zonai tech. And at the top of the stairs, we see a pedestal, backing up the theory that these ruins function as our new Sheikah towers.

This is our next shot. Which...

Unikoblins. Can we talk about that? UNIKOBLINS.

Anyways, Link is here again in his old clothes. This is a very early game shot, because his right arm isn’t corrupted yet; this means we get to explore Hyrule before we embark on the main quest. Which gives rise to a question: Where’s Zelda?

The hopeful side of me wants to say that she’s a tutorial companion, like Navi or Tatl, at least for the beginning here. The pessimistic side of me thinks that she’s waiting for us at a predetermined location, and this is just part of getting to her.

Now the unikoblin structure itself is built on a Talus, meaning that the dev team at least intends to have more inter-monster interactions. But if you kill the Talus, does that mean that the base falls apart, or does it just drop down as a separate entity?

Also, what are these background ruins? The one on the left looks like it’s a distinctly different style than the one on the right. It looks almost like a giant guardian arm.

Our next shot is Link’s arm getting corrupted. Which, first of all, the effects look beautiful.

Now, we can see a corner of Link’s hip here, and we know that this is his right arm. So Link’s lying down here. Unconscious? Knowing how Zelda games like to start with Link waking up, probably. Although it looks like at least part of his shorts got an update.

We can see what looks like circuits here. It looks a bit like the electricity puzzles you can find in the Divine Beasts and Shrines in the original.

Then we’ve got these strange symbols.

Whatever this circular stone he’s lying on is, it looks a lot like the Zonai puzzle from the “A Fragmented Monument” sidequest.

This one that everyone thought was the Mirror of Twilight for years.

Our next shot is Link using the corruption powers against enemies:

The spike ball itself looks solid; the question is, is this a duplication power, or a visualization of how the spike ball is set into motion?

We see it barreling over a poor Unikoblin or two, but I’d like to turn your attention to the Moblin and the background.

The moblins here have helmets, and the bases, while they carry the same design, look like they have more cause and effect in mind. The left base’s rock, for instance; that’s a lot bigger than the rocks we got to play with in the last game, and it looks like we can barrel anything in the screen over with it.

The helmet, though, concerns me a little bit. It looks natural rather than forged; like it’s the moblin’s horn, just very much deformed. Does it mean a harder enemy, or is it just for flavor?

Our next shot is this strange flower thing. Note that Link’s right arm is perfectly fine in this shot, meaning that it’s still early game.

This is what Link’s flamethrower looks like. And this:

Is Zonai art.

So the question is, what IS the flamethrower? My first thought was that it’s either a new item in its own, or it’s a Sheikah Slate upgrade. The latter might sound a little far fetched, but Link in this game is right-handed, and in BOTW, he always held the slate in his LEFT hand when using it.

We have more of the weird faded designs that we saw on the Sky ruins:

And we’ve got some kind of pedestal or stage behind the ground flower thing:

It looks like it’s either an altar or a grave, from what I can tell. The stairs aren’t the same design as the ones in the sky, and there aren’t any patterns on it.

More importantly, though, is that this place is underground. This could be a part of the game you’re required to go through, in order to get to Raisin Gan.

A few seconds later, though, we get our answer to what the flamethrower is!

It’s a shield!

Off to the left side, we can see pillars with more weird scribblings towards the top. These match the Sky ruins’ pillar shape, with a narrow base and a wider top.

Our next scene is...weird.

We see a puddle splash in reverse. It’s hard to tell if it’s actually water or not, but the design on the ground implies that it’s either been there for a long time, or that that’s a dedicated splash spot. And the quality and zoom makes me think that this is part of a cutscene. Return of the timeshift stones?

We then see Link...surfacing out of the island? I don’t know how else to describe it. However, his arm is changed again, and glowing, meaning that this is a corruption power. And the “water” he rises out of here looks a lot like the puddle in the last clip.

We get a good look at the Zonai Lights:

A Sky ruin that looks like it contains a room:

And a glimpse of other isles’ ruins in the far distance.

And then as the camera zooms out...

We can place a location!

We’re right over Thundra Plateau!

We also get a mildly better look at the back wall of the sky ruin, which looks to be some kind of table:

The next scene is Hyrule Castle:

The ground shakes and it starts to rise up. However, notice that the columns surrounding the castle are now missing.

We’ve also got red sparks in the air, like we would have in a blood moon. However, due to the sky color, we can assume that this is a conscious decision by Gan himself, and that he isn’t drawing power from his surroundings.

We then see that power bleeding out of the ground. It’s MUCH more red than Malice is, which has always been a kind of burnt pink-ish color.

However, even though Ganon lifts the castle up, he doesn’t lift it very high.

The castle’s about triple the height it was. But since we’re talking Skyloft levels of floating islands, this is still pretty ground-level. What’s interesting to me, though, is that in this shot, despite the game now being about sky islands that we should be able to see from ground level...there aren’t any here. This, to me, means that there’s going to be a sudden appearance of the isles in the sky, rather than them simply being accessible now.

And that’s the whole trailer! I have many questions.

My blog! If you have any opnions/questions/theories, feel free to drop an ask!

Part 2 is up! We missed a lot!

#botw #botw2 #bo2w #the breath just got wilder #breakdown #analysis #e3 #trailer #theory #zelda #loz #nintendo

[lonely-lost-soul]

Blood for the Blood God

(Technoblade x Reader)

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss.

~~~

A young hybrid stood at the edge of the world, his pink hair tied up in a bun, face free of scars he’d acquired in his later years, and he looked decades younger. A diamond-encrusted dagger rested against his hip in its holder, his feet nervously tapped on the dirt. Silence surrounded him, maybe he should’ve told Phil where he was going, what he was going to do, the deal he was about to make. There were no trees on the cliffside, no signs of life anywhere for miles, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he stepped into another realm altogether. It was just him, the cliff, and of course the ancient scrolls in his bag. Technoblade frowned slightly thinking back on his old friend once more, would Phil’s family and his old friend be disappointed in his choices. Did he even care? He swallowed thickly holding out his hand, he pulled out a dagger from its holder, and drug it across his palm. Blood spilled from the wound, Technoblade let out a hiss of pain watching the blood pool in his palm. He held his hand out over the void and let a few drops of blood seep into space. He had long since memorized the words on the scrolls in his bag, Technoblade chanted the words written in Greek and he felt the wind begin to pick up around him. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, He was grateful his hair was wrapped up in a bun or else it would be tangled and blowing all over the place. At this time in his life, his hair was down to his ankles, getting it calm in any sense of the word was a struggle.

Dust picked up and he covered his eyes, by the time Technoblade opened them a beautiful figure stood in the void, the goddess was giant, towering far above the treelines below the cliff. A crown rested on top of the Goddess’s head, it was golden and formed a halo above her head, stars littered across her face as her eyes opened. Her gaze bore straight into Techno’s soul, her gown was a deep black with red lacing across the neckline, and it flared out at her feet. A corset tight around her waist, intricate gold was embedded into the fabric, her (h/c) hair floating around her head.

“Technoblade,” Her voice sounded like silk in his ears, and he loved the way her voice said his name. Pink blossomed in his cheeks as his eyes widened, he didn’t even comprehend that she knew his name without even asking. “Why have you summoned me here today?” The Goddess hummed softly leaning downwards her giant face in front of Technoblades, he was in awe at her majesty. He gaped like a fish for a few moments and she lightly giggles pulling away from his body, Technoblade swallowed thickly recovering from his shock.

“You’re the Blood God?” He questioned not expecting you to be so womanly, you hummed softly tapping your nails on the ground causing it to rumble under his feet.

“I go by many names young one, but yes that is one of them.” She hummed the clouds began to swirl around her head, “I’m known as the Blood God, Blood Goddess, but if we strike a deal you may refer to me as (Y/n).”

“The scrolls said you’d be a man.”

“Disappointed?”

“No, not at all.” Technoblade hurriedly corrected himself, “Just startled.”

“Men always like to change history,” She clicked her tongue in distaste brow furrowing in frustration. “Changing the great things women do, the fear of powerful women is only felt by weaker and pitiful men.” He watched the Goddess’s eyes turn blood red a smile came across her lips, “They deserve to bleed. Pitiful men don’t deserve to walk the same earth of those worthy.” Technoblade felt himself nodding alongside the Goddess’s words, she had a point. Any man who disrespects or underestimates women deserves the fate she mentioned. “Now Technoblade tell me what you need from me?”

“I wish to never die.” The words hung in the air, he watched the goddess lean back in contemplation.

“I cannot make you immortal, I’m afraid you’ve contacted the wrong God.”

Technoblade shook his head, he knew he contacted the proper God, if he tried to contact the God of Death, Phil would know immediately.

“It’s not necessarily immortality I am after,” You titled your head curiously urging the young man to continue his point. “I just want something to make me never die, whether it’s power or unaging, I need something.”

“Why? Are you aware of the consequences of becoming immoral or like an immortal,” The Goddess gently reached her hand out nudging her giant finger against his cheek, “To see those who love you die around you while you never age? Anyone, you fall in love with won’t grow old with you.”

“I don’t plan on falling in love.” He interrupted the goddess, standing up straighter. He watched her purse her lips, in a blinding flash of light a woman was standing in front of him. Technoblade felt his face heat up, in her mortal form she was much smaller, but her outfit remained the same, the crown still on her head, showing off her power.

“You cannot comprehend the ideas of the goddess of love Technoblade. She has many interesting ideas on who should fall in love.” Technoblade straightened as she leaned in closer to his face,

“I’ll fight them.”

The Goddess blinked a few times as Technoblade looked away awkwardly at what he blurted out, and you burst into hysterical laughter. You covered your hand with your mouth trying to stifle said laughter, he made a small ‘heh?’ like sound as you clutched your abdomen.

“Sorry- Sorry! I just never heard someone so willingly eager to fight the God of Love so they don’t fall in love.” Your eyes lit up with delight as Technoblade visibly relaxed, for the self-proclaimed Blood God you sure were child-like, much like Wilbur, “You’re so cute yet so naive.” He tensed again his teeth grinding together,

“I’m not naive.” He huffed narrowing his eyes not even processing that she had called him cute. You hummed a few more giggles spilling past your lips, before collecting yourself and straightening your dress.

“Technoblade, before we continue forward with our potential deal there are some stipulations.” You hummed softly holding out your hand, “If you wish for my power to never die this is what I can grant you.” You pressed your glowing red finger to his forehead, his pupils shrunk in and he saw himself in the future. Scars littered his face, arms, and back, his hair was tied into a tight braid, gold jewelry coated his ears and fingers. He had a scruff of a beard on his chin, and he overall radiated power. By his side in some form of a Tundra, was Phil, looking a little older, his right-wing shredded beyond repair. On Technoblade’s back were three Wither Skull tattoo’s one in the middle of his back and the other two on his opposite shoulder blades. A netherite sword hung on his hip and it seemed to be coated in dried blood, his arms were crossed in distaste, he caught a glimpse of three lines on his arm.

He never lost a single life. Suddenly he heard thousands of voices echoing in his head, he clutched his ears falling to his knees, all of them were screaming, pleading for blood.

Technoblade breathed heavily snapping back to the current reality, “what was that?” He panted eyes a bit frantic, “the future?”

“One version of it,” You hummed pulling your hand down to your side. “The future can change on such a whim there never may be a true future I can show you, but it was one.” His brow furrowed watching you reach out and trace over the lifelines on his wrist, a pleasant tingle was sent up his spine. “I can assure you the power I can give will not make you immortal, but it will give you the power to slaughter all your enemies on a whim. Reach your goals and make it nearly impossible to die, that is the power I can grant you.” He watched his lives glow a soft gold and he choked on his spit, another tingle shot up his body, “but there are consequences as there is with every deal one makes.”

Technoblade nodded in understanding willing to risk anything to be that powerful, keeping his life and living with Phil. So the older man won’t have to lose anyone else in his life due to his immortality.

“While you’ll be powerful and practically impossible to kill you will still be mortal. You will be able to die and will still be bound to the three life systems my brother has set up. However, you will live forever so long as that does not happen.” He felt your hand move up his arm and he involuntary flexed his muscles. “But, you’ll have to bear the curse of the Blood God,” You whispered eyes flashing in regret, “The voices.”

“Voices?” He questioned with an eyebrow raise watching you nod almost sadly.

“They will be hard to ignore and occur almost instantly once the deal is in place. There will be thousands of them, always talking or screaming begging you to kill and slaughter. Begging you to kill and supply me with the blood I so desperately crave be spilled on the land. They will say other things too, commenting on your thoughts and your life, you’ll eventually learn to live with them. Especially with my help, but they’re hard to deal with, hard to ignore their yearn for the slaughter of anything with a pulse. You’ll have to learn to get along with them, that is your only hope to not lose yourself to them.” He felt your hand up to his cheek, thumb brushing against the apples of them, “It will be painful and you’ll still need to train to gain more muscle and strength, but it will be easier for you to reach that goal. So with that in mind Technoblade, do we have a deal?”

Technoblade locked eyes with the Goddess in front of him, he could deal with a few voices screaming in his ear, after all, you’d be by his side, helping him learn and grow.

“Deal,” Technoblade spoke gruffly, “how do we go about this?” He tensed swallowing thickly watching you cup his cheeks in your hands. “You’re touching my face, that’s fine this is fine, not intimate at all.” He watched you raise an eyebrow,

“It’s about to get a lot more intimate I’m afraid,” You purred as Technoblade flushed red, he felt your one hand remove itself from his cheek. She trailed her hand down his neck and his body, he was a shivering, red mess, she found the dagger at his side. He watched in awe as it floated in front of her, slicing open her palm, blood bubbled from the wound it was laced with golden flecks of ambrosia. Technoblade looked at her nervously, “Drink.”

“Eh?” He made a disgusted face eyeing the blood smearing on your palm, he watched it drip intimately down your wrist. Technoblade swallowed thickly, “why?”

“You have to take a piece of me to grant my power, you’ll grow fond of the taste of blood eventually.” You smiled pityingly, another hand gently squeezing his neck and Technoblade let out a shaky breath. He placed a hand on your wrist looking up into your eyes, you hummed sweetly urging him to continue, “I don’t bite. Hard.” You mused, eyes sparkling, dangerously, the look was verging on flirty, the young man flushed. He leaned forward, hesitantly licking the dripping blood that spilled down your arm up to the cut you made with his dagger. The ambrosia in your blood tingled his tongue tasting sweeter than honey, his pupils blew wide dragging his tongue across your palm. He barely registered your hand in his hair, curling around the loose stands tenderly, and much like a kitten, he began to lap at your palm. Technoblade felt like his entire body was on fire, but the blood you possessed tasted so sweet, he felt as though he’s never tasted anything better. He drank until your body healed and he couldn’t taste any more blood, he felt a whine bubble in his throat desperately trying to get more blood from your healed cut. You shushed him softly poking his nose, which seemingly snapped him back to reality, ears turning red as a small amount of blood stained the corner of his mouth. You leaned forward standing on your tiptoes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his mouth, tongue lapping at the left-over blood. He let out another whine as you pulled away licking your teeth, humming fondly at the taste. “Such a good boy, listening to your god,” he felt himself pant his vision blurring the praise from you swimming in his head, doing things to him he didn’t quite understand.

Technoblade’s eyes snapped open as the world around him filled with screaming voices, he yelled out in agony as a fire shot through his skull, burning his brain and licking at the top of his spine. Voice pleading and screaming for more blood, to paint the entirety of the cliffside with sweet blood, to grab the nearest thing with a pulse and tear it to pieces. His pupils shrank and his mouth began to water helplessly,

‘Blood for the Blood God! Serve her! We live to serve her, get her blood. Feed us, Feed her. Blood. Blood. Blood. Kill anything that tries to stop us. Blood. Blood. Blood.’

These millions of voices pounded heavily in his ears, he felt like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Suddenly the voices quieted and he was vaguely aware of your hand on his forehead,

‘Goddess, our goddess.’

“Shhhh,” You whispered fondly and Technoblade leaned into your cool touch. “Be kind to this one, he’s special.” He didn’t understand what you meant but heard the voices calm down as you spoke to them. “Play nice,” Techno realized that you weren’t talking to him but the voices in his head.

‘Yes ma’am. We’ll be good. But I want to break this one. Don’t be rude to our goddess! Bark, bark, bark. Don’t bark at her! She’s gorgeous though! Truly a work of art. We just want to provide you with blood! Let us play with him a little!’

“I know my darlings and I appreciate it.” You cooed fondly and Technoblade felt warmth flow through his entire being. “But try to get along with this one, he’s special,” Technoblade watched the goddess wink at him. He found himself asking her if he would see her again and she snickered softly,

“Of course you will. We’re interconnected now,” you took his hand, allowing his bigger one to encompass your own. “I’ll see you again soon, try not to die.” In another flash of light, the goddess was gone, he was left alone with the roaring voices and deep-seated loneliness that he was not accustomed to feeling.

It only took a few weeks for Phil to find out about his meeting with the Blood God herself he was immediately worried for his friend. Scolding him for doing something so stupid and reckless, even if what he was preaching was largely hypocritical. The newly acquired voices seemed to have a different interpretation of his nagging, instead, they urged Technoblade to call the man Dadza. Behind Phil his crows cawed and flocked around the both of them, Phil’s brow furrowed and squeezed Technoblade’s shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re doing mate. Dealing with gods is a dangerous game,” Phil sighed “I know that better than anybody. You need anything, contact me immediately.”

“I will,” The young man nodded in response to his old friend, “Trust me.”

“You know I do.” Phil responded his wings fluttering anxiously, “Just know how dangerous the Blood God can be, the voices granted to you will be hard to resist.”

“She gave me the spiel Phil, I can handle a few voices.” Technoblade scoffed crossing his arms over his chest, “Have a little faith.” Phil only grew more concerned watching Techno’s hand twitch, he could only hope he knew what he got himself into.

~~~

“Oh, Technoblade what have you done?” Your voice echoed in his head as he snarled loudly, red eyes blazing fire. Corpses littered his feet, blood staining the floor and walls, he was older than the last time she had visited. Hair was tied in a braid, scars littered his face and arms that seemed to only accentuate the blood staining his face. His ax was in the corner of the room blood stained the weapon as well, “You poor man.” He turned towards you and snarled the voices in his head roared needily, his head and heart were pounding, “Use your words.” You commanded hardly red mist swirling around your fingers, it hit him square in the chest sending him flying backward into a wall. Behind you stood a taller figure, in his state Technoblade could only make out a mask with a large ‘X’ carved into it.

“Your little plaything seems to be struggling with your curse dear sister,” XD mused from behind you, “Your supposed prodigy seems to have lost control.” You clicked your tongue in distaste sending your brother a look.

“Technoblade come back to your God.” You commanded your voice harshly seeping into his ears, he only roared in response, steam coming out of his nostrils. “I’m disappointed in you all,” the voices all at once stopped their screaming and Technoblade fell to his knees the sudden shift to silence throwing him off. You walked over to his crumpled body, bare feet stepping on the wooden planks marking the floorboards with your bloodied footprints. You knelt in front of him, the hybrid breathing heavily, his tusks tried to cut your skin and succeeded in pricking your fingers. You grabbed onto his tusks, those were also bigger than the last time you saw them, you tugged them harshly. He grunted in pain, “No.” You snarled looking deep into his eyes, “You slaughtered an entire village of innocent lives! That is not in my plan or my wishes you stupid mortal!” You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, his clarity was slowly coming back to him. “There were children here! Children you tore apart, I trusted you to have some semblance of control, and you!” She pressed a manicured nail to the top of his head speaking directly to the voices, “I asked for one thing from you and you make him do this!”

“Get ‘em, girl. You tell them.” XD mused from behind you, snapping his fingers almost sassily. His robes flowing around his arms, you turned over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Oh, go fuck George Lore.”

“Fuck you.” Lighting cackled from behind the God of the SMP his long nails digging into the flesh on his arms. You huffed glaring at your older brother, from behind you Technoblade tried to lunge at God for disrespecting his Goddess. “Watch your dog,” He scoffed another growl bubbling in Technoblade’s throat.

“Techno.” Your voice filled his ears again and he fell against your shoulder, “I haven’t been a good Goddess to you have I?” You spoke softly, his entire body relaxing into you as he listened to you. “You cannot handle the voices on your own that was my mistake, I will train you so this doesn’t happen again that I can promise you.” Your fingers gently played with the hair on the back of his neck,

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled groggily,

“There he is, welcome back to the real world.” The goddess pulled away from his beaten body, he looked around seeing the blood and the bodies. His ears twitched something akin to guilt curled in his stomach.

Had he done this? To a village of innocent traders?

“Did I..?”

“You lost control I’m afraid.”

“I- that’s impossible, I was doing so well I had control-”

“Technoblade!” A voice called out pushing past XD, an older gentleman with messy blonde hair a bucket hat. “You’re alright!- Who the hell are all of you?” The man seemed to realize they weren’t alone and his eyes locked onto yours. “(Y/n)?”

“Philza Minecraft. Long time no see,” You hummed a smile spreading across your lips, “Kristin says hello.”

Phil’s entire face flushed to the tips of his ears and he coughed nervously, “Er...tell her the same and that I miss her.”

“I will,” You gave a little bow of your head, “Is Technoblade your son?”

“More like an old friend, but I see him as such.”

“Shut up old man,” Technoblade grumbled sitting up on his knees without you to support him.

“I didn’t realize you were the Blood God,” Phil continued dropping by Technoblade’s side the old man was missing a few of his flight feathers. A large cut was gouged into his shoulder, that was it that was the trigger, something must’ve hurt Phil and caused the halfling to snap.

“That seems to be a common theme,” You frowned a little with a gentle sigh, you tried to glance at your brother, but XD had long since disappeared from the doorway. Most likely because he was bored and wanting to go bother Foolish, “Philza.” You declared as Technoblade glanced over at you through hooded eyes, “Will you allow me to train and help your son."

“He’s not my dad-”

“Of course Goddess, whatever will help him stay in control.” You nodded your head at the consent, in a flash of light your entire appearance changed. You looked much more human, with a simple yet sophisticated outfit that fit the period

“Then let’s begin.”

~~~

The sun began to rise above the cliff where Technoblade had first summoned his Goddess. He took in a deep breath inward and then let the breath outwards after a few minutes of holding it. He sat criss-cross on the cliffside letting air into his lungs as he remembered the meditation techniques you had taught him many years ago. The voices were particularly antsy today but he had learned from the best how to control them, to quiet them down, talk, and reason with them.

‘The sun is rising. It’s very pretty, can we please just spill a little bit of blood?’

“No.” He murmured under his breath, “We get to see (Y/n) today. Don’t ruin this for me. We need her help.”

“They bothering you?” Your voice flowed through his head like butter, and warmth engulfed his entire being,

‘We are not! Come on, we love you! E!!!! Don’t be mean to us!’

“They said you’re being mean.”

“Am not,” You snorted wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and fell across his broad shoulders. Surprisingly the goddess’s touch comforted him, while others’ touches felt like fire, yours was pleasant. “Just want to make sure my prodigy is safe and in control,”

“I am thanks to your lessons.”

“Good, now. You said you wanted to talk to me about something important. Do tell, I’m very curious. It’s not like you to keep secrets from me.” A feather-light kiss was placed on his cheek as you moved from behind him to the front, he adored you. The sunlit up your cheeks and framed your head like a halo, it was like everything on earth was made to make you look perfect.

“I have a predicament,” He tapped his nails on his knees as you hummed thoughtfully, “There’s a war brewing between the government of ‘New L’manburg’ and myself. The government killed Wilbur, drove him so mad that Phil had to kill him to stop his nonsense.”

“I remember that,” You said with a stern nod, “there was a lot of blood spilled that day.” The people who fought in the war lost a lot of lives and you remembered it vividly, XD watched the battle with you from above, you wanted to keep an eye on Technoblade. When the battle was over and his allies betrayed him it took all of your willpower to not go down there and kill them all where they stood.

No one touches your prodigy.

XD had to physically hold your powers away from you, it was the closest you’ve come to losing control of since you were a young Goddess.

When Technoblade escaped to the Tundra that’s when you appeared in front of him, giving him a bone-crushing hug. He grunted at the unfamiliar body but there was only one person that he knew of who could appear out of nowhere and that was his Goddess. You remembered him apologizing to you, fearing you’d be mad at him for failing to kill all those who opposed you and him. You shut him up with a searing kiss, he was dizzy as you pulled away,

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” he murmured still recovering from the shock of the kiss, recovering from how much he enjoyed feeling your lips press against his own. “I won’t disappoint you again,”

“You better not.” You cupped his cold cheek with your hand, he nuzzled into it, “You have so much more to give.” Technoblade gave a stern nod as the voices urge him to kiss your forehead, and he listened. “My strong prodigy,” you recalled how he shivered at your words “Are you mine?”

“Only if you’re mine in return.”

“I can live with that.”

His big hand cupped your cheek and you snapped your attention back to the mortal in front of you, you smiled and kissed one of the scars on his palm. Techno brushed his thumb across your cheek, the stars on your face left his fingers tingling. “I need your help, they tried to execute me and hurt Phil they need to be taught a permanent lesson. Please fight by my side,”

“Love, you know I’m not allowed to interfere with wars of mortals. My brother will demote me.”

“I know that,” Technoblade assured reaching out to squeeze your hand, “that’s not what I mean or what I want for you Goddess.” You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head,

“Explain,” consider your curiosity peaked.

“Grant me more of your power, fight through me, my dear.” Your eyes widened as his eyes flashed red,

“That’ll tear you apart, you will not be able to handle that.”

“I will.”

“Techno-”

“I trust you.”

Your lips dipped into a tight frown, “I don’t trust myself.” You admitted closing your eyes, “I’m called the Blood God for a reason Technoblade.”

“You’ve taught me how to keep control, I know you can as well darling. Please.”

“Fine,” You agreed after a while looking at the ground, “I’ll let my power flow through you on one condition. You only use it once when it’s life or death.”

“I promise you,” he leaned forward and kissed your lips causing you to purr happily. “I’ll only use it once just keep an ear out for when I call for you.”

“I will.”

The battle came much faster than Technoblade would’ve liked, he had Dream, Phil, and the dogs by his side. They would blow the government to smithereens and won’t stop until they hit bedrock. Above the clouds, he knew his Goddess was watching over them, there was no way they wouldn’t succeed. He felt the voices yearn for blood, yearn to serve and please their god, to wreck the entire governmental system. Dream told Technoblade and Phil their duties, which consisted of distracting the government with as many Withers as possible, so Dream could set up the canons. Technoblade could feel the buzzing in his skull knowing the voices were itching to set off the Withers and conquer. They gathered the wolves from underneath L’manburg and Technoblade ruffled their fur and gave them each some last-minute treats, he hated to think of that as a last meal for some of them, but that’s essentially what they were. As he made his way into the country Phil had squeezed his shoulder, a gesture meant to be affectionate in nature.

“Try not to die.”

“You too old man. You still have the totem I gave you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Good. Now let’s kick their asses,” Technoblade grinned viciously. He looked up into the swirling clouds in the sky, crows screaming overhead, “Watch over me, my goddess.” His head filled with warmth and he knew you were by his side like you promised you would be, Phil smiled over at Technoblade and looked to the sky as well.

‘Watch over him (y/n), Kristin,’ He thought getting into a position to release his Withers onto the world.

Technoblade followed suit, the citizens caught onto his presence almost immediately, ready to battle him with weapons drawn. Luckily the dogs took care of anyone who dared try to get a hit in, ripping apart any exposed flesh and spilling their blood on the ground. The dogs allowed him to set up two Withers and send them into the battle, exploding and targeting individuals in their line of sight. Technoblade escaped into a small area by a river and was suddenly attacked by Sapnap. The fire demon spawn’s eyes were alight with bloodlust, seemingly from slaughtering half of his pet wolves singlehandedly.

“Well, well, well, who do we have here?” Sapnap grinned swinging the sword in his hand, fire sparking from the horns on his head. Technoblade had no time for the cocky man’s small talk as he charged at him, he blocked the blow with ease, golden ring glinting in the fleeting light. “Not much of a talker huh? No matter,” Sapnap snickered, “I’ll be the one to take your first life.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Technoblade snorted pulling away to kick Sapnap in the chest, he stumbled back but he was known for his quick recovery time. He grunted a little and sent a trail of fire-spitting towards Technoblade’s feet. Technoblade was distracted by the fire and it allowed the demon to slice a deep cut into Technoblade’s chest, the man didn’t have time to block. He grits his teeth and felt blood seep across his chest, pain ricocheting through his body. The voices roared to kill the idiot, to get up and give him a severe wound back, but before he could he was kicked in the chest by Sapnap and fell to his back. The sword was pointed at his neck and it dug in just deep enough for a droplet of blood to bubble under the sword.

He was fucked.

‘Call her. Call (Y/n). Call the Blood God. Call our Blood God. Blood for the Blood God.’

“Any last words?”

“(Y/n) I need you.”

“Who the fuck-” A blaring light blinded Sapnap as he stumbled back, squinting his eyes he could barely make out Technoblade in front of him. Technoblade’s eyes blazed a scarlet red, the wound on his chest healing over rapidly like he just ate two god apples. That wasn’t the worst of it though, Sapnap stumbled back some more, above Technoblade’s head was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Her hands were cupping his head, red seeping from her fingers and licking at Techno’s head like flames. The Goddess’s eyes were closed as her hair floated around her head, framing her face beautiful, she was terrifying calm,

“What the fuck. Who the fuck?” His voice cracked watching the being open her sharp eyes, a bloodthirsty grin appeared on her lips. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Technoblade. Kill the idiot man, who dared to try and kill you. That is my command. Give Blood to your Blood God.”

Technoblade’s lips curled over his tusks, he was salivating, the voices were roaring. “Blood for the Blood God,”

He spoke and the last thing Sapnap saw was the shine off Technoblade’s blade, and the glowing eyes of the Goddess herself before the world around him went dark.

Technoblade was breathing heavily, the voices wanted more blood, he felt the pull from you as well, you wanted more blood spilled. Steam curled around his nose and he shook his head, ‘no. no more. Thank you.’ He licked the blood off his sword and the voices quieted, satisfied with the taste on his tongue.

“Stay safe,” Your voice echoed around the battlefield, some chose to ignore the booming voice of the female but others turned to look. Staring in awe at the sight of the goddess, many not knowing her origin or what she was but felt her power over the battlefield. “Don’t disappoint me,”

“You know I won’t.” He grinned blood staining his teeth, behind him an explosion rang out, Dream was ready with the TNT cannons. He heard a familiar cry from who he assumed Tommy and when he turned back to face you, you were gone.

They will forever know that Technoblade serves and is dating the Blood God.

~~~

Tag list: @iamsuchasimp, @victory-is-here, @pastelmoonwitche, @ignat1usaquar1us, @boiled-onionrings, @alovestruck-fool, @mack4676

#dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp x you #dreamsmp x y/n #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #romance #fanfiction #fanfic #minecraft fanfiction #techno x y/n #techno x reader #techno x you #c!techno x reader #c!techno x you #c!techno x y/n #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #technoblade x y/n #c!Techno x reader #oneshot #powerful reader #blood for the blood god #techno imagine #techno drabbles #technoblade imagines #technoblade drabbles #technoblade x reader imagines

[searidings]

....🥺 can you please tell us more about that season 5 alternate ending where andrea ends up using the dagger pretty please, just like who does she end up hurting and the others reaction? if only you want to of course !

hooookay this ask got me to open that wip for the first time in a year and actually it's not that far from being complete! but idk how to finish it and i feel like i've done the s5 conflict resolution thing in multiple fics now like how many is too many? i fear i may have hit that limit. BUT since you asked, here is the beginning of it. please note:

1) this thing is angsty and also it's unfinished, so read at your own peril

2) because i wasn't ever expecting to finish/publish it, i've recycled bits of description from it into other fics. so if you see stuff i've repeated elsewhere no you don't <3

-

The last thing Lena sees is a flash like dark shadow pass over Andrea’s eyes, before a kryptonite dagger slides between her ribs.

The sound she emits is less of a scream and more of a surprised squeak as she sinks to the ground.

If you want to get to Supergirl, you’re gonna have to go through me.

It’s not that she hadn’t believed Andrea would do it. Lena was under no illusion of safety when she placed herself between Supergirl and the glowing green rock in Andrea’s hand. She’d come to terms with the possibility of dying for Kara long ago.

What she hadn’t been able to prepare for was the pain. The abstract of sacrifice was all well and good, but. Reality, this searing epicentre, a point of white hot agony turned molten, seeping through her body. No amount of her mother’s decorum training had prepared her for this.

Something is filling her mouth, thick and dark and oozing. She can’t scream. Kara sits, eyes silver, a world away. Kara. Lena has to move. She can’t. Andrea steps over her, and is that the pounding of receding footsteps or the dogged beat of Lena’s heart? Either way, it’s slowing. Every inhale cracks her body down the centre, each exhale buries shards of glass inside the gaping wound.

Her eyes are beginning to mist at the edges but she strains, listens. The sound that cuts through the haze is not the scream she dreads, Kara’s agony as her veins sear emerald. It’s not a scream, but a shout, and then a blur passes over her like light and shadow.

Concrete cracks, or perhaps it’s Lena’s ribs. Sounds are muffled now, the world dulled down like the inside of a snow globe. Underwater, time passes sluggishly to where she lies, drifting, encased in glass. But someone is fighting the current, resisting the pull. Hands grasp her shoulders, burning where they touch. Through the rolling fog comes Kara’s face, blurring out in red and blue and gold and sickly green. Lena wants to push her away, keep her separate from the venomous substance protruding from her chest, keep her untainted. But Kara’s hands are dancing there-away along her cheeks, her jaw, Lena’s own name sounding from her lips over and over, a siren song, calling her home. It’s raining now, wet spots peppering her brow, or maybe the sun is crying.

“Lena, Lena,” Kara is saying. It sounds like her heartbeat and she cannot bear for it to stop.

“Kara,” she manages, a whisper, a prayer.

Her face flashes within Lena’s line of sight for one perfect moment, and is she green-tinged or is it Lena’s failing vision? A shiver passes through the air between them, I’m sorry fluttering like a bloodstained white flag but whether it falls from her own lips or another’s, Lena cannot say. Then a sudden pressure at her ribs, a heavy push and release that feels like salvation and damnation all at once.

Lena hears a scream, two screams, billions. She is left gaping, open and exposed. Invaded by the air and exalted by the sticky-sweet blush of her own blood, her body purging itself. Through the slick of gathering crimson her head rolls to the side, darkness pressing in around her, eyes blazing with the final image of a limp hand on the ground beside her, veins shot through with glowing green.

-

For a long time, there is only darkness. The deepest blackness she has ever known, all-encompassing. Devouring light, thought, feeling. Lena floats, tethered to her own existence only by the pressing weight of the dark, closing in until the end of the world.

Slowly, sensations begin to blur in and out. Cold, a deadening flow, hooking into her very marrow and stripping her from the inside out. She drifts, and then there’s heat, scorching, radiating out from her ribs in scalding waves, and she wishes for numbness.

For a moment, Lena thinks she sees the star-burst of veins behind her eyelids, but then they are gone and all is black again. Sound fragments filter through her peripheral awareness. A great noise, banging and shouting and exploding. She slips back under.

Vibrations reach her, but they must be sounds because Lena no longer has a body with which to feel them. She floats, untethered, sinking beneath the surface of a dark ocean so vast it surely cannot know she’s there. In the deep, voices flicker.

“Haven’t you heard that you’re supposed to leave the knife in? She’s minutes from bleeding out.”

The blackness turns to blood around her, not vibrant red but sticky dark, the kind so loaded with the very force of someone’s life that it moves slowly, crawls under the weight of it, sucking light from all it touches.

“Her veins were green, Alex.”

An eternity passes.

She dreams of her mother, dark hair fanning behind her as she cuts through the still waters of the lake. The scene is calm, but the growing dread means Lena knows what’s coming and suddenly it’s not her mother but Kara before her, and the lake isn’t clear but radioactive, glowing green, and still Lena stands at the shore and watches her slip away, helpless.

Words float through the haze and Lena wishes she could reach out, grasp them, weigh them in her hands to know the truth behind them. Radiation and poisoned and flared and gone, the sounds making physical shapes in the darkness. She thinks of a child, two dark-haired children, of hours spent pouring over a dictionary. A cruel laugh when she got a definition wrong, grudging silence when she got it right. How she wishes now to be wrong, to mishear, a stay of judgment on the world these words conjure into being. But the focus is gone, and she slips away again.

“—whatever you have to do! Or so help me, I’ll—”

Though Lena is nothing now, just an exhale in the wind, she smiles. Warmth blooms, the blackness not crushing but caressing for a moment, and she drifts into memories of happier times.

A million years pass, a billion. Lena is upside down, and right way up, and no way up at all. If she still had a face, she might feel the pressure of a warm forehead against her own. If she still had hair, the imprint of lips pressed gently against it might still ache. If she hadn’t burned every meaningful bridge in her life in the year before her death, she might believe the trick of a whisper wrapping on the breeze, words of comfort, of promise.

But she had, so she doesn’t, and time collapses in on itself as Lena watches, motionless and alone.

-

Though she has always been nowhere, she can feel herself drifting further and further from the last thing that might just resemble a somewhere. The eons slow. If she were a doctor, Lena thinks, then this would be the time to make herself comfortable. To say her goodbyes.

She cannot look at blackness any longer, cannot bear the glowing green after-image that seems to stick to every corner and edge. She thinks of blue, of rain-washed skies and Kara’s eyes, conjures it into being with every fibre she has left. Wraps herself up in it, plunges headfirst, drowns.

“Like it matters!” Kara says, no, shouts, from somewhere far above and below her. Lena would flinch, if only she still had a body. The voice rings out through the void. “Like any of it matters now.”

Lena is privately inclined to agree. She tries to breathe, but the full weight of the universe, of every universe, presses in. As everything, even the blackness, dulls, there emerges a crushing, cracking suffocation, and Lena wonders why she can’t even die in peace. A high-pitched scream, maybe hers, maybe Kara’s, maybe her mother’s, maybe the world’s, stretching out before her like a pathway. Though there’s no doubt where it ends, Lena almost wants to follow it, if only to escape this sensation of being crumbled, submerged, denied life as its very essence is wrung from her being.

And then a hundred trillion bolts of lightning shoot through her at once, and Lena is gone.

-

When she wakes, she wakes secure in the knowledge that she must be alive. Sure that the pain that had burst through her, blighted every nerve with an agony so intense she feels its phantom grip even now, could only lead back to life. Sure that no departure could hurt that much.

When she wakes, it is through cracked, dry eyes to the sight of pipes and ceiling vents, the bland, industrial grey that can only denote underfunded government property.

When she wakes, Kara is standing at the foot of her bed, hands behind her back and looking every inch the righteous hero, and Lena’s unsteady heart sinks. She’s been on the receiving end of this authoritative pose more than enough for one lifetime. At least her hands aren’t on her hips.

But Kara’s eyes brighten as they meet Lena’s fluttering gaze. “Lena.” Quiet, reverential. “How are you feeling?”

Lena takes stock. Alive, to begin with. Every limb still intact. Aside from an unnerving constriction in her chest and the fact that her blood feels a little like it’s burning her cells as it courses through her veins, it could certainly be worse.

When she speaks her voice is hoarse, cracking. “What happened?”

The same darkness creeps into the edges of her vision as she listens to Kara list the extent of the damage. She presses her lips together, willing away the blackness, registering only snippets.

Stab wound. Kryptonite poisoning. Collapsed lung. Cardiac arrest. Resuscitation.

Leviathan, gone. Andrea, captured. Lex, escaped.

The words wash over her like a freezing tide, and Lena wonders if maybe the darkness had been easier after all.

It takes far longer than it should for her to realise that the room has fallen silent. Kara is watching her, concern etched into her features like tears carving through stone.

Lena swallows as best she can. “And you?”

A corner of Kara’s mouth quirks up. “I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

But she doesn’t look fine. She looks exhausted, her face drawn, blue eyes lacking their characteristic shine. Even her hero’s stance can’t mask the fatigue weighing heavy on her shoulders.

But Lena doesn’t have the strength to argue the point. She rolls her head to the side, joints popping and releasing, noticing for the first time the tangle of IV lines threading into her skin. She lifts her other hand to touch them, feels the warning tug of more needles even as Kara steps forward, arms raised as if to stop her.

Her hands reach toward Lena, or at least, the spaces where her hands should be. Huge white dressings swaddle Kara from the wrists down, so bulky they do not resemble hands at all. Lena’s breath catches in her lungs as she takes in the unwieldy bandages, third degree burns and possible nerve damage echoing through her mind and she understands now why Kara had hidden them behind her back.

The inhale she aims for seems to stick in her ribs and she can feel again the crushing, the cracking, the dizzying lack of oxygen as her head spins. Kara is by her side in an instant, radiating warmth and just breathe, Lena, it’s okay, a comforting weight settling against her hip. Lena thanks the thick blanket for blurring the press of rough bandages where there should be warm skin, softening it into something just nondescript enough to be calming.

When her pounding pulse has slowed, the heart monitor downgrading to a less frenetic beat, she sucks in a breath despite her lungs’ protestation, waits for her vision to clear. Kara is still there, and dread opens up in Lena’s chest.

“You— you touched it. The kryptonite. You pulled it out.”

Kara doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Just nods, her gaze locked on Lena’s own. Lena lies catatonic, paralysed with the knowledge, unable to move even as Alex enters the room. Dimly aware of low words exchanged between the two sisters and then Alex at her bedside, gentler than Lena’s been worthy of seeing her in years. Just rest, Lena, the press of a button on the IV monitor, and she sinks back into oblivion.

#i wrote this immediately after the s5 finale (clearly) and before i finished it i got the idea for 'with the birds' and blasted that one #and then i was just like well. i've just done kara and lena's whole big reconciliation arc. do i really want to do it again #even though the premise of this one is different and reading through it again today i still quite like it #but i just don't know. i don't want to redo the same theme constantly and also i haven't thought up a satisfying ending #but there's 16k words written so like. i guess i should never say never #who knows #anyway thank you for your interest! i'm touched that you would care about this idea #and i hope you like this beginning! though as i said. it's angst city #i've just never recovered from that scene you know? #lena standing between kara and a threat whispering 'if you want to get to supergirl you're gonna have to go through me' #has anything sexier ever happened in the history of the moving image i'm not sure #truly the fic basically writes itself #anyways. bon appetit i guess #hope you're having a wonderful day #asks #anonymous #ridings writes

[arcane-ish]

Book of Silco: Chapter 6

Ever wonder what it's like to drown? Story of opposites. There's peace in water. Like it's holdin' you, whisperin' in low tones to let it in. And every problem in the world will fade away. But then there's this thing ...In your head, and it's raging. Lighting every nerve with madness.To fight.To survive. And all the while, this question lingers before you: "Have you had enough?" It's funny. You could pass a lifetime without ever facing a choice like that. But it changes you forever. For that, I thank you... old friend.

1.) This monologue was used in auditions for Silco according to Silco’s voice actor. 

when I read Silco for the first time, the monologue had this beauty to it.

This efficiency of words, the economy of tone, and yet it was so ruthless in what it's outlining. The monologue I'm referring to is, "Do you ever wonder what it's like to drown," when he says that monologue at the top of episode three. It struck me like a piercing violin note, the first time I ever read those words, and the voice it just followed right along, it was almost like a jacket I was meant to wear.

2.) I remember it being a topic of debate a bit of whether Silco and Vander were brother-brothers or metaphorical brothers before later acts confirmed that it’s just metaphorical brothers. But Silco already calls Vander “old friend” here. 

3.) I remember when I was watching this episode I was really taken in by Silco’s conversation with Vander and him saying his hate for Vander disappeared. But actually it is already foreshadowed here with Silco thanking Vander. 

4.) Silco’s flashback is different from the other flashbacks in that it gets revisited twice in the same episode and it keeps getting clearer and more detailed. 

5.) I know it’s kind of obvious but there are shots that are symbolic of Silco floating in a deep void to represent how peaceful the water feels when he’s actually right below the surface, within an arm’s length. 

6.)  This is the first look we get of long-haired baby Silco. As other’s have pointed out, his clothing is asymmetrical particularly with the single shoulder... pad? pauldron thingie? at a time when his face isn’t yet, but it becomes more symmetrical over time. (it’s still asymmetrical in Act 1 with the single bracelet and the thing wrapped around his leg. )

7.) Much has been said about why pre Drowning betrayal Silco as long hair, if it’s symbolic that he became rougher and shortened it. There’s also the question whether the hair was long enough that it would have been impractical and whether Silco might have had it up in a ponytail or something when he wasn’t currently being drowned. 

8:) The colors are muted only the red blood sticks out. This is interesting because I don’t think any of the other flashbacks plays with colors as heavily. Even the red tinted one of the first episode at least seemed to play with the idea of it being really the fire and ash that surround them? And then we have Cait’s flashback for example that from my memory didn’t play with colors at all.Maybe it’s supposed to be representative of Silco’s lack of oxygen and hence his vision is fading? 

This would fit with the end of the scene where the screen gets more and more red as Silco’s passes out. 

9:) In his monologue, Silco talks about the temptation to give up and surrender to death vs the animalistic instinct to fight for your life/fight back. This initial flashback seems to end on him passing out/about to pass out, but of course the later revisits of the flashback reveal how Silco freed himself. 

10.) This shot of Vander from Silco’s perspective is likely meant to mirror similar shots of Vander from the episode 1 opening when kid Vi and Powder encounter Vander and get taken in by him.

Also probably noteworthy how it starts with Silco in blue, the fight itself is in those gharish muted brownish colors and it ends on Vander in red (insert your own joke about red/blue lesbians)

Prior to the last shot of Vander in red he mostly is shown as just a dark blob and a pair of arms of course. 

11.) The first set of shots of Silco clawing at Vander’s arms give me random mountain climber vibes (maybe I associate Vander with being a mountain of a man?). 

While the last set of Silco’s fingers slowly losing strength and sliding off Vander’s arm, I dunno, they always feel deeply sad to me.Probably because it looks strangely tender to me? 

12.) Apropos nothing, the fight scene among other things includes: 

- Silco kicking at Vander trying to get distance - Vander having both hands around Silco’s neck - Vander having one hand on Silco’s throat and trying to hold his wrist with the other 

13.) The sequence definitely plays with contrasting “serene” blue Silco with making the real Silco struggling for breath look monstrous, but I think it also dips into pityful as Silco is about to pass out. 

#arcane #book of silco #silco #vander

[psychewithwings]

Sleepless

Hitoshi Shinsou Sleepy Comfort:  Hello all, this is my contribution to this months BNHAREM Collab. Please view the rest of the master list here. This months theme was about spending time with one of our favourite characters. So each piece (art, writing, or other) has really come from the heart. 

For all the times I couldn’t sleep and wished I had an insomniac Shinsou to hold me through it... For all those who cannot find enough peace to fall asleep some days, this one is for you. 

The only TW is depersonalization and some depressed thoughts.

The clock blinks 3:07 AM. The gods of sleep had forgotten you while they had kissed the foreheads of the rest of the world. Your apartment felt vast and empty and nothing seemed to make sense. Sometimes it felt as if you were evaporating from the world… or rather, the world was evaporating away. It was unsettling, feeling like you were walking through a dream. Your movements heavy and light at the same time, floating, slowly dissolving into the ether. ‘Maybe this time… it will actually happen, maybe, this time, I will fade and no longer exist. I feel nothing, I am nothing.’

Hot tears roll down your cheeks as the exhaustion adds to your fear. You sit up and look out the window to. The lights of the street pour over the pavement in artificial fluorescence. You need fresh air, something to snap you back into your body. You throw open the window and climb out onto the small balcony.

The night air washes over you, or perhaps it blows through you. You look up in an attempt to see the stars only to find the orange glow of city lights reflecting off of the black sky. ‘It’s like yelling into a void,’ you think to yourself.  You want to laugh and cry at the same time, there is such an irony in loneliness.

“Can’t sleep?” he questions. You turn to see your neighbour Hitoshi Shinsou leaning against the railing of his balcony. You shake your head, relief flowing through you that another human being can perceive your existence, even if you yourself cannot. “Been good?” you ask, giving him a sleepy smile. You had a few exchanges with Hitoshi, and occasionally hung out in each other’s apartments but he had been busy. “Eh, not too bad I guess… you?” You consider telling him that you’re good, fine, okay, but you knew Hitoshi well enough to know that he wasn’t afraid of honesty. “Been better,” you yawn and he laughs softly. “Past your bedtime, huh? Dont you usually pass out at like 11?”  You shrug and smile, “not lately.”

Hitoshi takes you in and his brow furrows in response. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offers. You shrug again and shift your weight from side to side. “Not really…” you pause considering your words carefully. “This might seem weird but- could I come over…” He says nothing, just extends his hand to help you climb over the railing separating you two.

His hand is warm and large over your own. It’s strange, you know Hitoshi doesn’t sleep much but something about his presence inspires a desire to sleep. You look at him with big tired eyes before your head falls onto his chest. You close your eyes and wrap your arms around him. “ ‘m sorry, you’re just so- comforting,” you mumble into his chest. He pulls you closer, “I’ve never been told that…” You adjust so that your ear is against his chest, his heartbeat steady. “Well, you are.”

A silence washes over you both, sounds of the city below only add to the moment, the wail of a siren and the beep of a horn, laughter from a bar a couple blocks away, music passing with cars. Leaning into the man with lavender hair, the world felt like it was slowly being filled. The life that felt it was being evaporated from you felt as if it was being poured back into your body with every stroke of Hitoshi’s hand down your back. The thought of returning back to your empty apartment had you gripping his shirt and pulling him closer. “Can I stay?” you ask. It’s unexpected but not unwelcome when he presses his lips to your forehead. “Of course,” he says, hands still running up and down your back to soothe.

Hitoshi leads you through the window, into his bedroom. You both crawl into his bed laughing quietly and making soft conversation as you find your way into each other's arms. It’s strangely natural, as if it had always been this way. Each thought and memory that is shared between the two of you is cherished, said and listened to with the heart itself. And soon your eyes are closing, your head on his chest. The comfortable silence created is paused by Hitoshi’s words, “I’m glad you’re here.” Anyone would assume he meant in his bed, but it was the way he said it that made you realise he meant more than just ‘in his bed’. You sit up slightly and look at him. You aren’t quite sure what to say so you press your lips to his cheek before you snuggle back into his chest. You fall asleep to the rise and fall of his breath and the beating of his steady heart.

It’s light through the blinds that has your eyes fluttering open. Hitoshi’s arms are still holding you, though now his chest is against your back and your legs are intertwined. You find yourself face to face with a clock once more, though this time it glows, 14:36. You roll to face him, rubbing his shoulder. He blinks awake, heavy eyelids, and smiles when he sees you. “It’s two thirty,” you say wide eyed. His eyes grow to the same size as yours as he checks the clock. You both laugh together. “I don’t remember the last time I slept that long… or that well,” he muses. You nod agreeing, “me either.” His hand comes up to meet your cheek, his thumb stroking softly under your eye before trailing down to your jaw. You lean in and touch your lips to his. It’s a soft and simple kiss. A signal of gratitude, because as he held your heart while you slept, a part of it healed, and now, you’ve woken up, but you’re truly awake.

#shinsou #bnha #bnharem collab #bnharem #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha x yn #shinsou comfort #bnha comfort #hitoshi comfort #insomniac shinsou #insomnia comfort

[crimsonophelia]

Can I request for a fluffy friends to lovers fic with Venti and a human gn reader? They’re good friends (but the reader doesn’t know his real identity) and when reader brings up their desire to see a wind wisp in real life Venti decides to surprise them by transforming into his true form and paying them a visit. The reader finds this mysterious little wind wisp at their doorstep and gets excited, takes care of it, and while feeding it apple slices starts talking about how their good friend Venti would love to see them - but oh, he’s less of a friend and more of a crush who I’ve loved for a long time… wait, where did the wisp go? Wait, Venti?! When did you get here?!

featuring: venti x gn!reader

warnings: none

published: june 30, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: thank you for sending this in—i need more venti requests, he’s my baby <3

you could tell that the drink was beginning to hit you hard when you felt your muscles go slack. it was your fourth pint of the night, and although you thought that you could hold your drink fairly well, you could never hold a candle to your bard friend’s seemingly bottomless appetite for wine. venti was on his seventh--or was it eighth?--mug of cider for the night, and was still fairly unfazed, if you consider his usual bumbling amiability to be his default. after a long day of working and whatever it was that venti did in the daytime, you two had decided to meet up at the angel’s share that evening for a drinking night between friends, and to catch up on life and whatever else goes on in the city of mondstadt. 

the night had begun with a mug per person, as you and venti caught up with each other. due to your duties at home, and his rather inconstant job as a traveling musician, it was oftentimes difficult for you and the bard to stay in touch--responsibilities always seemed to get in the way. so, naturally, you took advantage of every opportunity you could get to see venti, one-on-one, and simply talk. after knowing him for quite a while, he really was a delight to talk to, always full of witty riddles and forever knowing the right thing to say at the right time. venti really was quite remarkable. 

he also had the unique talent of contagious alcoholism; after having spent an hour or so drinking and chatting with him, you unwittingly started drinking more than your usual limit, absolutely carried away with whatever small conversation venti had you engaged with at the moment. the conversation had somehow strayed into the topic of myths and legends of mondstadt. venti was speaking of some strange conspiracies surrounding the origin of the anemo hypostasis up in the mountains, and as the alcohol began to break down your proper judgement, you began to go on and on about how you, as a child, dreamed of seeing an elusive wind wisp. 

you had heard stories about the boy revolutionary, armed with his bow and his words, accompanied by a little white wind wisp, leading mondstadt’s journey to freedom. the story had enchanted you when you were young, and clearly you still had not given up hope of meeting a similar wind wisp. perhaps it would bring you the same joy and power to change your life for the better, just like it did for the hero of old mondstadt. 

venti listened to your reminiscing closely, looking at you with a quizzical look of interest. your intoxicated state made it so that you didn’t notice the look on his face as if he was plotting something, but, to be fair, venti’s poker face was notable for its impregnability. the night ended with him having to walk you home, propping your arm over his shoulders so that you wouldn’t trip and fall on the cobblestone streets. the last thing you remembered was him tucking you into bed, and singing you one of his funny little songs.

the next morning, you woke with a pounding headache and the bright noon sun peeking through your shutters. archons, was it so late already? you pulled yourself out of bed, trying not to stumble, distracted by the pounding in your head. you had a long list of things to do today that you had to complete, and you severely regretted drinking so much and so late with that damned bard last night (though you could never really hate him--he was too adorable).

slipping on whatever clothing closest to your bed and sluggishly following through with your daily morning routine, you got ready to head out the door to water the carrots and potatoes in your backyard. as you pulled open the door, prepared to step out and face the piercing daylight, you caught yourself as you almost stepped on the little figure at your doorstep. lying there on its side, was a wind wisp. yes, just like the ones you had read about all your childhood and you had mused about endlessly last night. it had its little eyes shut, sleeping probably, its delicate little form curled up on the step. 

you were bewildered, partially at the coincidence of it all, but mostly by the rarity of what had occurred before your eyes. a wind wisp, something most people never even saw once in their lifetimes, suddenly showing up right at your doorstep after you had talked about your desire to meet one just the night before. crouching down, you scooped up its little body in your hands. the little thing began to wake, hands rubbing its eyes sleepily, as it made a chirping noise. it was ridiculously adorable. 

“hey there, little guy”, you cooed. “what are you doing here?”

as it began to regain consciousness, the wisp floated up off your hands, small gusts of air emitting from its form, and it flew up to nuzzle against your face. it felt like a warm breeze brushing against your cheek, and you heard it chirping in your ear. 

you giggled. “well aren’t you the cutest little thing!” you raised your hand to pet it, and it made a little gurgling noise, leaning into your touch. something about its mannerisms felt so familiar, almost like something you had known in a past life perhaps, but you couldn’t put a finger on it. its presence was just endlessly comforting, even though you had only known it for a few minutes. 

reaching into your pantry, you pulled out some apples you had picked the day before, and cut it into small slices. the wisp watched you eagerly as you went about your business, like it could understand everything you did. holding up a thin slice to the wisp, a little hole in its void of a face opened up and enveloped the slice whole. a little shocked but certainly entertained, you gave it an approving head pat. 

as the day went on, the little wisp continued to follow you throughout mondstadt as you ran your errands. you went outside, behind your house, to take care of the crops you were growing. as you watered your plants, the little wisp helped you disperse the water more efficiently, blowing a gentle wind from your watering can so that you didn’t have to walk as far to water the faraway plants. you go to pick some apples and sunsettias nearby, and the little fellow would fly up to the hard-to-reach fruits and throw himself against them to knock them loose from the branches, right where you could catch them. you worried a little bit whether he was hurting himself by doing so, but he appeared to be pleased just to assist you, and he certainly was not ashamed to take a few bites from the fruits of your shared labor at the end of the day. 

considering how efficiently your errands were completed today, of course all thanks to the helper you acquired that morning, you thought it would be nice to use the time you had in the late afternoon to take the wisp out for a picnic dinner at windrise to show your appreciation. gathering some of the fruit the both of you had collected, and some sandwiches you made, you placed it all in a little wicker basket and set off for the great tree with your companion upon your shoulder. 

upon arriving, you laid down a gingham blanket in the shade of the great tree of windrise, just a moments away from the ancient statue of barbatos. you felt like a child again, remembering the summers of carefree exploration, tunneling through the thickets in the forest, or catching frogs by the creek, or tumbling down the hills by the sea. and now, a wisp joined you, taking you back to the memories of those years, when life was much simpler.

you couldn’t help but to think of venti, the bard, the friend, who had brought you such comfort through difficult times, whose music, like the warm touch of the wisp, reminded you of home and the beauty that life could bring. your companion was now feasting comedically fast on the food you had brought along, swallowing up fruits whole, and chewing for several moments before helping itself to another. you chuckled and gave it a pat. “greedy little fellow, aren’t you?” you couldnt help but to think venti would have loved to meet the wind wisp, considering his love for nature and all sorts of fauna, and considering the small resemblance between himself and the creature.

“stick around for a bit and i might introduce you to my friend, the bard”, you told it, not really caring that it probably couldn’t understand you. “im actually not sure that we are friends, to be honest. these days we rarely see each other but...” you trailed off, distracted by the sound of the breeze through the branches. the wisp stopped eating and watched you intently. “well”, you began. “i sometimes find myself wishing him and i were more than friends. maybe not lovers, not right away but... i just know that dearly. i cannot be sure that he feels the same, but that is of no matter.” you pat the wisp’s little head again. “if i can make him happy, even just as friends, that is enough for me.”

out of nowhere, a strong wind blew past you, knocking over your wicker basket and sending it flying several feet away. agitated, you scrambled up to chase after it, finally grasping it before it could fly too far. you were perplexed—where in the world could such a strong wind have come from? the sky was clear, and there were no clouds obstructing the setting sun. how odd, you thought to yourself.

you turned around to bring the basket back to your sitting spot, but to your surprise, the wisp was gone. no, in its place was now your bard friend, venti, sitting there on the blanket like he had been there all along. how in the world did he get here without you noticing, and where in the world did the wisp go off to? you hurried over to venti, questioning, “since when did you get here?”

the bard smirked, and fiddled with his lyre that you just noticed he had brought along with him. he had that look on his face again, the one he wore whenever he had some sort of plot in mind.  “whatever do you mean, [y/n]?”, he replied amusedly. “i’ve been here all along.”

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