#whispers from the mycelium | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochinomnoms · 4 months

Note

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Congrats on 1k followers Mochi (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ you so so so so deserve it. You always make me smile when I see your posts so I hope you have fun writing them.

If I might make a request, could I have Jade, Trey, and Ace with a romantic prompt 16 (“I won't lose you again.”)? I want to see them cry a lot just a tiny bit. Feel free to let the vibes guide you, I trust it will be very good.

-Yuri

jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola (separate) x gn!reader [tags] — angst in Ace's, hurt in Trey's, humor in Jade, implied time loop theory [wc} - 1,000+ each prompt 16: “I won't lose you again.” song: Be, Talk (Hozier, “Wasteland, Baby!”), Francesca (Hozier, “Unreal Unearth”) note - @yuri-is-online got it! went a lil wild cause I got massive inspo lmao. Also, let me know if yall can guess the anime I got inspired from with Ace's francesca (1k event)

“Be like the love that discovered the sin (Lover, be good to me) / That freed the first man and will do so again / And, lover, be good to me (Lover, be good to me)”

There were several things that caught Jade Leech’s attention during his life, but only a few kept his attention, after which he’d abandon his ‘toy’. Fungi, mountains, and poisonous flowers, were exceptions, to name a few. He had to admit to himself (and only himself) that there was one thing that revolved in his mind all this time later, dug deep into his brain like the mycelium of his beloved mushrooms in the forest floor.

One. Thing. You. The funny little human from the broken down dorm. The funny little human with not a single ounce of magic in their veins. The cute little human that was captivated by his merform, an entirely foreign concept to them. The sweet little human with the even sweeter crush on him all throughout his second and third years.

Perhaps it was cruel of him to entertain your affections with no real desire to follow through on them. Actually, scratch that, it was cruel of him to do so. It was just so…interesting to him at the time. He grew alongside his brother and Azul, none of them exactly being the most sought after during their childhood or teens. They were feared, each of them for multiple reasons, not exactly prime boyfriend material, despite some of their attempts to curate a specially crafted facade.

Yet, you were so bewitched by him, enthralled, beguiled, and dare he say lovesick with him despite all the signs screaming “DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!” So please, forgive him for shamelessly flirting, and finding entertainment in your reactions.

The dilated pupils as he leaned down to make eye contact. The sharp intakes when he cornered you against a library shelf, nonchalantly reaching for a random book. The shiver down your spine as he would lean over in class to whisper some nonsense in your ear regarding the class. All for the sole purpose to see you blush a pretty color and get flustered. Not for the jump in his heart at the thought of being revered so sweetly, or a potential lover being so good to him.

It was just a bit of fun. That’s all it was. That’s all it was meant to be, when he finally left for his internship his third year. He paid no mind to the wistful look on your face as he gave his goodbyes, nor the strange creak in his heart at the sight.

Jade Leech was all he’s always been, and all he will ever be: a man that left his toys once they ceased to interest him.

Which is why he loathed that he’s been unable to remove you from his mind. Though, did he really? It wasn’t annoyance or hate, but an aching yearning that resided in his being. Jade spent many months tossing and turning in bed as he dreamt of you: shy smiles, soft eyes, and sweet words. He wanted, he needed to be free from this love-struck feeling, this infatuation. It was dragging him down from his finely constructed pedestal, like a sin striking an angel down from heaven.

Yet, coming back to campus now, presenting his internship research at the end of the year, Jade found himself strangely content with the concept as he watched you. You’d taken on your role at NRC quite beautifully, and were the object of affection for many admirers, much to his dismay. Currently, you were attending to visitors, directing them to their destinations and helping the fourth years find their old clubs and friends, while he admired from around the corner.

You were as you’ve always been, sweet, cute, and clueless to your surroundings as he stalked closer until he was behind you, leaning down until his lips inched close to your ear.

He purred breathlessly into your ear, “Oh Prefect~ Is that you, my dear?” Jade didn’t miss the shudder that flew up your spine as you jumped away in shock.

“EEP! W-what the—” You whipped your head around to berate the man before realizing who it was. “Oh, jeez, Jade! You’re back—why’d you do that?!”

The tall man chuckled as he straightened to his normal height. Oh, how he missed you. And your reactions, of course.

“I simply missed your delightful expressions, you always have been rather reactive with me, haven’t you?”

“What—nooo. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Huffing, you crossed your arms and jerked your gaze away in irritation. At least, it would be if not for the blush on your cheeks.

“Fuhuhuh, that blush suggests otherwise.” A giddy feeling filled his chest as Jade inched closer to you, in which you backed away. This continued until he managed to corner you against the stone way of the hallway.

“This is a familiar sight, is it not?” Jade cooed as he leaned down again, a hand reaching to caress your cheek. “I did miss you, didn’t you—”

A smack. Jade blinked in surprise as his hand was thrown back by your own. Now you looked more annoyed than flustered.

“I’m sure you did.” You hissed sarcastically, narrowing your gaze at him. “Ha! Please, more like missed messing with me. If you really missed me, you’d’ve called or messaged me like the others in our class. Even Azul checked up on me!”

Jade…hadn’t been aware of that. He’s been too into his own head, reliving memories with you that it hadn’t occurred to him that you’d actually might lose affection for him.

The thought made him a little sick.

He pouted, taking your chin in his hand to tilt your head up to his. “Is that so? Please forgive me for my most egregious sin. I don’t wish to lose you again.”

“Hmph, again?” You made a sound of offense. Despite your words, you still looked up at Jade with a shy gaze, eyes darting down to his lips every so often.

You never had me in the first place.” You scoffed, trying to avert your blushing gaze, though he kept a firm grip, moving to squeeze your cheeks into a pucker.

Jade chuckled, “Your previous actions say otherwise, though I am quite a fool for not taking what was mine in the first place.”

“Y-yours?! You-you-you can’t just say things like that—eep!” You let you a deliciously cute squeak, which he swallowed up as he stole a kiss.

“Now, now my little lover, be good to me and let me revel in your affections, I’ve derived myself from them for far too long now, have I not?”

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice / Imagine being loved by me / I won't deny I've got in my mind now (Hey, yeah) / All the things I would do

He wasn’t sure why he had any faith in Crowley to get you back home. Really, that’s on him for thinking the headmage would put any work into your return home. If Trey had known that you’d still be here in Twisted Wonderland, years after his graduation, he wouldn’t have ever broken up with you.

Granted, it hadn’t exactly been his choice in the first place, as you had abruptly ended the relationship towards the end of his fourth year. Told him to enjoy his life without you weighing him down, despite his insistence that you’d do no such thing.

Trey finally relented when you told him that you had a world, a family, a home (without him) to get to. Somewhere you belonged, somewhere that wasn’t with him.

It hurt, yes, knowing that you were never really meant to be with him in the first place. It was simply by magical chance that you were plucked from your world to turn his own upside down. Likewise, it was simply by chance that you and him got together to steal and eat his heart, leaving him almost an empty shell of himself.

So it was a surprise to see you at Riddle’s wedding, of all places, dressed up in a pretty green outfit as you giggled with some bridesmaids. Seven, you looked good, the fabric hugging all the right spots. Maybe he was being a bit delusional, but Trey swears that the green of your outfit matched the color of his hair, and he had a small possessive streak pass through him at the thought. If it wasn’t for Cater pinching his arm, Trey would be sure that he was in a dream.

“Ow! Cater!” Trey hissed, rubbing his arm as the strawberry-blonde smirked at him. Cater’s hair was longer now, but he kept his signature style from school still.

“Go on, talk to them.” Cater nudged him with his elbow, gesturing to you. “I know you want too~”

Trey huffed, watching the liquid in his cup as he swirled his punch. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, come on!” Cater whined, latching on to Trey’s arm.

“We didn’t end on good terms.”

Cater countered, “You didn’t end on bad ones either.”

“Hmph.” Trey clicked his tongue, eyeing you from the corner of his eye. Your hair had grown longer, and was dyed. It looked nice on you.

Still leaning against Trey, Cater pouted before a mischievous look passed over his face as he leaned in to whisper in Trey’s ear.

“Besides, I heard they’ve stayed single since being with you.”

“…” A sigh. “Really?”

“Totes, so you really ought to go make a move before that blonde dude does, though it doesn’t look like he’s having much luck.”

Finally deciding to look up, Trey noticed your uncomfortable expression as the guy twirled a strand of your hair with his fingers. Despite being known for being rather mild-mannered, a handful of your mutual friends knew the truth: Trey had a nasty jealous streak where you were concerned.

He wasn’t sure when or how he got across the room, but Trey was suddenly hovering over you and the blond man, hazel eyes piercing his back. Surprise flitted your features as a hand was offered to you, along with a familiar.

“Sorry, hope I’m not interrupting.” Trey had to withhold a smug smirk as he saw your eyes light up at the sight of him. “But would you mind sharing a dance?”

You eagerly nodded, taking his hand and mumbling a half-hearted apology to the other man as Trey guided you to the dance floor, filled with couples sharing a dance to the latest love song.

His hands rested on the familiar curve of your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, hesitating before finally settling your hands on the back of his neck. The two of you swayed to the music, a surprisingly comfortable silence between you two. Honestly? It was as if you two never broke up, with how your bodies curled into each other, heart-to-heart.

Yet, neither one of you seems willing to start the conversation he was begging to have.

“… You look beautiful—”

“You look wonderful—”

Both of you opened your mouths at the same time, interrupting each other before sharing a giggle.

“Sorry, sorry. You go first.”

Trey shook his head. “No, go ahead.”

You smiled, something soft and a bit sad, before looking him up and down. “You look good, got stockier. The bakery’s got you working hard, hm?”

“Ha, yeah. It has, what…about you?”

Your lips thinned, as you looked away. “Still at NRC with Grim, we teach the new Beast-tamer curriculum. It’s…fun.”

Silence fell over you two again, the elephant in the room hanging between you two.

“You’ve been here, all this time, then?”

You nodded, a sliver of shame passing over your features.

“He never did find me a way home after we…you know…”

Trey sharply inhaled, tightening his grip and rubbing soothing circles as he nodded. “Yeah…why didn’t you…tell me. Why didn’t you come back?” He left out the ‘to me.’

You stopped dancing, making him stumble slightly as he watched your face intently, heart aching at the tears growing in your eyes.

“I—” Trey watched as you swallowed a lump in your throat, voice shaky. “—I felt so bad that you’d spent your time and energy on being with me when I might not even stay, so I wanted you to go off and live life. But then, he never did find me a way back, and I realized that I just pushed you away, and I just couldn’t face you—”

You broke into sobs, burying your face into his chest as Trey led you away from the dance floor. He managed to pull you into a secluded hallway, one for the staff to enter in and out of the kitchen. Trey held you close as he rubbed your back, resting his cheek on the top of your head as you rested into the crook of his neck.

“I-I'm sorry… I shouldn't be…” You were sniffling, letting out little hiccups as you spoke. “—crying like this… I'm not trying to make you… feel bad… I just… I should go…”

As you moved to pull away, Trey tightened his grip, hand reaching up to caress your cheek as you looked up at him with watery eyes. You were as beautiful as the day you left him, tears streaking your makeup and all.

“Don’t, please, I—” Trey sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I won’t lose you again. I missed you so much, please, stay?”

You nodded, still sniffling, as you moved to kiss the palm holding your cheek. “I missed you too, but aren’t you mad at me? For not coming back?”

Trey shook his head, smiling softly at you. Whatever anger he had was immediately forgiven at the sight of you before him. He couldn’t care less about the last few years, as long as he had you back in his arms again.

“As long as I can have you back in my arms, the past is forgiven. As long as…you’ll have me?”

The two of you shared another sweet smile, leaning into each other to press your lips in a soft, fleeting kiss. The type of kiss you give when you can’t tell the difference between a dream and reality. Cater’s quick photo of you two lovers would later help cement that fact that this was reality.

It’s a week later that Trey has that exact same picture set as his home and lock screen.

I'd tell them, "Put me back in it" (Da-ah, darlin') / I would do it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah) / If I could hold you for a minute (Da-ah, darlin') / I'd go through it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah)

It’s all dark. It’s always dark until the moment Ace opens his eyes and the coffin opens. Ace goes through the orientation ceremony, only to have it interrupted by you stumbling into the Mirror Chamber, an energetic and egotistical Grim demanding to take your spot.

It’s dark in the cave that he goes into with you two and Deuce to collect the new chandelier magistone. You're screaming, he’s screaming, so are Deuce and Grim. It’s a shit show, even before Riddle comes to drag him and Deuce back to the dorm.

It’s dark when he makes the trek to your dorm after being collared. Grumbling about just wanting a snack, about Riddle’s unnecessary rage, and about who the hell can remember all 810 rules. It’s light, though, that he sees when you open the door to Ramshackle, the warm, old lightbulbs from the hallway creating a halo around you.

It’s light again, in the morning as the sun filters through the broken window, you poking him awake to get to class.

Ace has never been one to get sentimental, the idea of love is frightening, to be frank. But looking at you again, light curtaining your features, he was reminded why he did what he did.

Why he punched Riddle for his outburst and insults to you.

Why he threw himself into the fight against Leona as he threatened to turn you to sand.

Why he let himself get “tricked” by Azul again and again, get beaten up by the twins under the sea again and again. Why he tried to run back to school to your rescue, only to be too late again and again. Why he endured the embarrassment of losing the SDC.

He’d hoped that this time he’d be able to avoid getting into a coma from the S.T.Y.X. Charon robots again, but he had no luck, so you once again had to depend on Rook and Epel getting you through the Isle of Woe. Maybe he should’ve focused on getting Grim back after scratching you, or maybe just prevented him from eating all the blot stones, then you wouldn’t have been in this mess.

It might have prevented Malleus’s own blot, though Ace wasn’t really sure what led to his spiraling. It was probably a combination of a lot of information, as it was with the rest of the blots. Either way, he’d been hoping that preventing Grim from eating the 8th blot stone would’ve prevented this.

Ace wouldn’t know though, as he’s been through this year at least 4 times now. Trying to prevent what he’s slowly starting to believe is inevitable.

He’s replayed your deaths over and over in his brain. The first one that happened, he was upset for losing a friend, but probably would’ve gotten over it. It sounds harsh, but that was the reality of the situation.

After the second loop, Ace started noticing you more. Things he missed out on the first time. The way you smiled, the way you walked, the way you tugged on your shirt when you were nervous. It was cute.

It was his third loop that he started noticing little things. How you liked to grab on to his arm when it got too crowded. How you always made an effort to help him in class, despite having to catch up with nearly 2 decades of curriculum just to understand the professors. He noticed how you’d blush whenever he’d make flirty jokes.

It was his fourth, and current, loop that he really started to view you differently. That he started to view these second, third, and fourth chances as a way to keep you safe. To not lose you again.

You were always helping him, despite the stress he caused you. Every time you’d let him crash in your dorm, eventually convincing you to let him share at least your room. He’d be up, tossing and turning as he watched your sleep. He wasn’t trying to be creepy, but seeing you take your whole situation in stride, every overblot, every condescending comment, every shenanigan Grim, Deuce, and him really made Ace think about why he was doing this.

Was it because he felt bad? No, it certainly wasn’t the first time, anyway. Was it because he liked having you around? Kinda, maybe a little. Was it because every time he’d ask you why you got involved with all the drama at school, you’d answer with a shrug, a smile, and simply answer “I gotta protect my friends, as best I can anyway.” That was probably partially the reason.

He thinks the reason he’s so desperate to make sure you stay around is because of the promise you made with him the first loop around: “If I can’t go home, let’s always stick together! I like you, and you like me, so we can support each other every way we can.”

You’d made this promise, in one form or another, every loop.

“Promise we’ll stay friends, even after graduation! I wanna stick by my first friend’s side!”

“Ace? Do you actually promise to take care of me? I know I’m a pain, no magic and all, but I’ve taken care of you in my own way, do you really promise to do the same?”

It was his fourth time watching you live your year in Twisted Wonderland. And it’s then that it clicked for him: he was falling deep into love with the magicless Prefect that cared way too much for others, and much too little for themselves.

“Ace…” you gasped, a bloodied hand reaching out for him as an overblotted Grim made a rampage throughout the Mirror Chamber. He could hear the others screaming, magic being cast, and a distinct yowl from Grim as Riddle launched another fire spell at him.

Ace cringed as the giant direbeast that was once his little fiery friend screamed in pain, running around until he tripped and fell through where there was once a wall. Grim let out an eerie, inhuman scream as he fell, a sickening crunch echoing as he landed on the stone ground. For the fourth time, Grim was gone. But that didn’t matter, not when he was watching you die for the fourth time.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey I’m here.” Ace had managed to crawl over to you, clasping your hand with his own. He rested your head on his lap as you coughed, red liquid leaving your mouth as you did.

“No, nononononono—you’re fine!” Ace hyperventilated as he looked over your battered body. He was sure that he had prevented Grim from eating Vil’s blot stone. Was that not the reason he turned into this? Did he only need to eat a few before turning into a monster? He was so confident that he’d managed to keep you safe. So why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy—

“Ace.” He froze as you murmured his name, your other hand reaching for his cheek, wiping away the tears he didn’t realize he was leaving.

“Ace, promise me you’ll stay with me? I don’t want to be alone right now…” you hiccuped as you started crying, curling into his chest as Ace cradled you. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help! I was so useless, so useless to let Grim get to this point. So useless as a friend, I’m so sorry!”

Ace curled into you, ignoring the voices from behind you two, no doubt the other students coming to the realization that you’d be grievously harmed.

“I’ll stay with you, I’m always with you.” Ace shuddered. He felt like throwing up. “I’m going to try again, I won’t be too late this time. I’ll make sure to keep you safe this time. I won't lose you again.”

Ace ignored the person shaking his shoulder as he watched you hyperventilate, before your breathing slowed and eventually stopped. He ignored the surprised cries as magic swirled around him, as he activated his signature spell for the fifth, and hopefully final time:

With a flick of the wand, a rhythm sublime,

Reverse The Clock, turn back the chime,

No time to say 'Hello', goodbye!

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!

It’s all dark. It’s always dark until the moment Ace opens his eyes and the coffin opens for the fifth time.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #trey clover x reader #ace trapolla x reader #jade leech #trey clover #ace trappola #francesca (1k event)#mochi fic

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telleroftime · 1 year

Text

Bloom ||| Bowser x Reader

You're on a walk with Bowser in the woods of the Mushroom Kingdom when you end up falling down into a bunch of flowers.

———————————————

Pairing: Bowser x Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Romantic

Tone: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Bowser Masterlist

A/N: Someone complimented my writing and that inflated my ego so it's time for more Bowser fics.

———————————————

You didn’t know how you managed to convince Bowser to allow you to tag along on one of his expeditions into what was pretty much enemy territory, nor how you managed to convince the mighty King of the Koopas to go on a walk with you through the forests south of the camp, but you wore a bright and proud smile as you wandered down the worn, muddy path.

You've been to the Mushroom Kingdom before in passing, representing the koopas in any political squabble the royals decided to partake in, but you never took the time to actually see or experience it. You heard plenty of gossip from the castle staff. They always described the beautiful nature of the land. The flora that grew thick in the forests. The streams of water that rushed faster than lava could ever hope to achieve. Not only that, but you managed to eavesdrop on some scouts' talk, whispering about an opening somewhere within the woods. It was a clearing you wanted to see with your own eyes.

And now, as you walked ahead of your lover, the landscape was greener and more lush than you were used to.

Vivid grass sprouted from every corner, peaking between berry-clad bushes and tall, brown trees, fighting over the crust of the earth. Dots of red and blue and green mushrooms were scattered across the distance of the forest. Some formed tiny visible circles, no doubt highlighting the spread of mycelium below. In some places the mushrooms grew larger, competing with the size of the trees. Those reminded you of the decorated plazas of Toad Town, where the citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom showed off the largest growths like trophies.

You also wanted to argue that it was warmer than in the area surrounding the Dark Lands. Sunlight was bright on your skin as it filtered through the leafy canopy, heat seeping through the fabric of your royal clothes like the warmth of hot sand. It was smooth and felt like nothing less of a loving hug. It was a pleasant change to the lava's heat of the molten land you were used to, and it was different to the flicker of firelight that lit the pylons leading up to Bowser's Castle. The wind was fresh, not humid at all, and the air was breathable and ash-free.

You'd say that the moment rivalled the safety of the gold-lined walls of his kingdom.

Humming to yourself, your attention turned back to Bowser when you heard him release a low grunt. You had to cover your face to hold back your chuckle.

He was swatting his large paws at two bright blue butterflies. They dodged him with ease, though each swipe of his claws caused them to be pushed into disarray. They tumbled in the air, flapping their tiny wings wildly, before they returned to their assault. When one butterfly was pushed away, the other took its place in the fight. Whenever that one was hit, the previous came back, all the while Bowser grunted and growled in annoyance. It was almost like they were teasing the large koopa who was struggling against them and, against your better judgement, you let out a snort.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get to bask in the moment for too long as the ground below your feet turned into a pillow of soft mush, causing your leg to roll and shoot a sharp pain through you and causing you to lose your balance.

In the moment that followed, you saw Bowser’s boiled gaze soften as it turned to you then widen with horror. His body bounded towards you, a sudden disregard to the butterflies, however his paws didn't quite reach you.

You tumbled down the mossy growth, rolling and falling and bouncing off the soft hill. Your eyes were tightly closed shut, your hands around your head until you let out a final oof. Your body's motion came to a stop right in the middle of rustling blooms.

You were dizzy as you unravelled yourself, a dull ache all around your body. You could taste grass on your tongue. You could feel the dirt and moss push against the palm of your hand. You could smell a variety of scents, but for a moment the most prominent one was mud.

Breathing in and slowly breathing out, shaking yourself out of your spinning head, you opened your eyes and looked around. A smile grew on your face.

You were surrounded by flowers. Hundreds of them at least.

It was the clearing.

They were growing in the pocket of light that you were lying in, white and yellow petals with golden centres staring you down as if they themselves came alive in the moment. They swayed gently in the warm breeze, performing their little enticing dance that called forth multiple insects. Bees were humming their sweet melodies and promises of honey, orange and pink butterflies were hovering like colourful fairies. None dared to entertain you.

Sitting there, your clothes spoiled with patches of green pigments, you were surprised that you didn’t sneeze. Your body wasn't used to the flora after living so long in the Dark Lands, and yet you felt not even a smidge of irritation. You didn’t want to sneeze. You didn't want to cough. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe it was the truth the rays of light revealed as they filtered through the large gaps in the canopy. There was little to no pollen in the air. There was no dust and no seeds. The air was completely clear.

Knocked out of your thoughts, you felt the ground shake beneath you and heard Bowser roar your name. He thudded next to you, crunching the flowers under his body, large hands cupping your significantly smaller head with such delicate tenderness that even you thought you'd break at his touch.

"Are ya hurt?" He said, a growl masked through his concern, "tell me where it hurts."

You let him squish your face for a little while, nodding in his hands every time he growled and huffed in worry. His red eyes never left your body as he scanned over you. From your face to your arms to your chest to your legs. He checked you at least three times, and after he was done, he sat back with a loud thump, his hands dropping to the sides, grumbling under his breath.

A grumbling that stopped when you blindly picked a flower, leaned up as best as you could and put it between his horn and his flame-like hair.

"White suits you," you complimented, toying with a stray strand of red that fell from the rest of the heap.

You looked into his eyes only for him to huff in return, moving his head to look away.

Your smile widened.

There was a moment of comfortable silence that passed between the two of you as you sat amongst the blooms, your hand caressing the side of his snout. You heard the buzz of pollinators, seeing a few fly close with curiosity from the corner of your eye. You could hear the birds squawk melodiously in the trees above you. A tweet here and a tweet there in tune with the rustling leaves.

Most importantly, you could hear Bowser breathing.

In and out.

Only to pause when you leaned into his chest, your hand dropping to your lap. Now you could also hear his heart hammer in his chest. You could feel it strum and you could feel him swallow as he wrapped his large arms around you, mindful of the rough scales and the metal bracelets around his wrists. You sat like that for a moment longer.

"I'll be honest," you started, looking up at him from the safety he provided, cupping his snout in your hands again as your back rested against his chest, "I rolled my ankle when I fell. You'll have to carry me back."

You smiled, your brows furrowing before relaxing when you heard him muster a laugh. It was like a roar, though you felt the strain behind it. He didn’t want to be too loud with how close you were to him.

"How 'bout we continue with our walk?"

You felt his snout morph with his grin, Bowser being as emotived as ever. His arms moved, twitching with light anticipation, and you leaned to the side to place a soft kiss on his bicep. "Only if it's no trouble."

"If it's my consort then it's ne'er any trouble."

His arms moved then, effortlessly lifting you from the ground as he stood up. Patting himself off the flowers that stuck to his scales, he adjusted you in his grip. Carefully, he made sure you were comfortable and secure in the crook of his large arm, nuzzling into you before he trooped forward with a wide grin.

The butterflies from before had returned, fluttering around the two of you.

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Bowser Masterlist

#bowser #bowser x reader #bowser x y/n #bowser fanfic #super mario bowser #bowser fanfiction #mario bros #bowser super mario #super mario #super mario x reader #bowser headcanons #king bowser

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melikochan · 1 year

Note

#4 with aloy and beta?

"I don't understand why I need to do this, Aloy," Beta complained. She was hot, and sweaty, and, and dirty, and this was just... not her idea of fun.

Aloy looked at her with that critical—even judgmental—gaze, and explained again, slowly, "because we live in a dangerous world. If you can't fight, we need to find other ways for you to defend yourself."

Beta clutched her spear closer, heavy in her arms with the weight of solid wood and the override mounted to the shaft, torn from the carcass of a FAS-ACA3 Scarab—sorry—Corrupter. Beta had watched Aloy scavenge and attach the part with expert efficiency, then copy over all of her overrides. They had walked for an hour after, and Beta could feel a blister forming on the ball of her foot. All just to find this herd of Chargers they now crouched behind, obscured by what Beta thought was some rather sparse shrubbery.

"I still don't see why this is necessary," Beta wheedled, but Aloy gave no quarter.

"You need to be able to override machines, Beta, either to fight for you or help you run."

"I'd prefer just to stay out of danger, back at the Base..."

Aloy shook her head. "We need to be prepared. Anything could go wrong."

"That's reassuring..."

"Just override the Charger, Beta. Please?"

Beta scoffed, turning to the herd. A quick scan of her Focus helped her identify and tag each machine, so she could keep track of where each machine was at all times. Didn't want to end up with a bad surprise. She scanned the surrounding area as well, just in case, but the only other activity her Focus picked up was a fox scurrying about in the distance, and a bird awkwardly waddling over a boulder. Beta crept forward a step.

“I’ll stay right here, okay?” Aloy whispered, and Beta shot back a tight nod over her shoulder.

Deep breath. She could do this.

The closest Charger had its head down in the grass, converting the organic matter into Blaze. An important job, much more useful for the terraforming system than the so called "hunter-killers" HEPHAESTUS deployed to...discourage tampering. At least she would just be overriding the machine, not killing it.

Beta was within feet of the machine when suddenly, it raised its head, as if sensing her presence. She froze, adrenaline coursing through her veins and making her limbs tingle. Of course Aloy had shown her some basic spear moves, just in case, but she'd never had to test those skills. She was almost about to turn tail and flee when the Charger shook its head, then ducked back down to the grass.

Beta could have collapsed, she was so relieved.

"Now's your chance," Aloy hissed behind her.

Steeling herself, Beta crept forward. Overriding seemed simple enough—the Corrupter's override module would kick in on impact and take care of the process for her—but suddenly the idea of jabbing the Charger with a long piece of wood seemed...ill-advised.

But she couldn't back down, not with Aloy behind her. She had to prove to her sister that she was capable. She squared her shoulders, adjusted her staff so it felt less awkward in her hands, and stuck the module end into the hind-quarters of the machine.

The override took over as blue light pulsed across the Charger, primitive nanotechnology in the machine becoming slaved to her personal Focus network. Glowing tendrils spread across the machine like mycelium.

Beta contained her whoop of enthusiasm, not wanting to alert the other machines, but her blood surged with excitement. So caught up in the thrill of the moment, she almost fell over in surprise when Aloy silently appeared next to her, then crept forward to override her own mount.

Aloy quietly led both of their Chargers out of the herd, Beta trailing behind, nervous about alerting the others. Once they were safely hidden, her sister helped her awkwardly up onto the mount, Beta struggling to pull herself up and over.

"Race you back to the Base?" Aloy joked, mounting her Charger with effortless ease.

Beta scowled. "You just want to see me land in the dirt, don't you?"

Aloy smirked. "Maybe you'll learn to hang on tighter."

With a huff, Beta stuck out her tongue, and then kicked her mount forward into a run, nearly charging into Aloy. Her sister yelped in surprise and raced after her, laughter echoing as they galloped back towards home.

#thank you!!#unbeta'd #sobeck sisters #horizon forbidden west #hfw #prompts

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dontwantthenextcommanderiwantyou · 2 years

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I'ma need bitches to start putting some respect on Scylla's name, she's legit the reason all of them are still alive.

If Scylla hadn't gotten Raelle to fall for her and taught Raelle the Mother Mushroom seed, Raelle never would've bonded with the mycelium...

If Raelle never bonded with the mycelium, she and Abigail would've died on their first mission...

If Raelle and Abigail died during that mission, Tally would've stayed a biddie for Alder...

If Tally stayed a biddie, she never would've been able to declare rite of proxy for Nicte...

If Tally never declared rite of proxy, Nicte would've been killed by Alder.

Without Scylla none of them would've even made it this far. Hunting the Camarilla with Willa... infiltrating the Camarilla with Anacostia... saving the unit from Nicte's suicide work in the forest... using Morrigan's Whisper to help the unit escape... putting her dodger connections on the line to get three soldiers, the spree founder, a grown ass man and his kid sister a safe place to stay... so on and so forth. My lil necro spree dodger has come thru more times than anyone.

#scylla ramshorn #amalia holm #motherland fort salem #raylla #freeform #hulu

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rukafais · 2 years

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More wizards for Wizardtober!

Day 7 - Sleepiness

“If the gentle smoke from the burner they carry isn’t enough to put you to sleep, they have other, more direct methods of rendering you unconscious too.”

Day 8 - Fungi

“A wandering magician who is also a master herbalist and doctor, growing their own medicines from their mossy cloak. Please do not ask if they are actually a humanoid-shaped mycelium system in a cloak and hat.”

Day 9 - Caves

“A traveler who specializes in wandering the depths of the earth. They bring whispers of long-lost mysteries and maddening secrets devoured by dark tunnels, but more often people will look for them to bring tidings of those lost to the siren song of the underground. Often, the trinkets they bring back are the only closure families will ever have.”

#wizardtober #wizards #rukart

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strangerqueerthings · 9 months

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Because I'm thinking about HIM again at 3:30 am:

Alcohol tolerance? Through the ROOF....and it infuriates him. Beer no longer does what it used to, and now he has to admit he isn't fond of how it tastes, and he and Eddie are too broke to get hard liquor.

Weed? Still works, but only indica blends really work. Sativa speeds up his already over-tuned metabolism, making his body process it before the high even has time to hit, which leads to-

Mushrooms. Due to the nature of the spores from the Upside Down, like it or not, Billy's part of the mycelium network there... which means Psilocybin is an entirely new, incredibly wonderful trip for him- shrooms actually hijack/rewire his internal network for the duration, and it silences the hive mind. It's an equal mix of a good high, and an off switch for the constant whispering in the back of his head.

Heat tolerance? None. Nil. Nada. Anything over 60 degrees (Fahrenheit) has him breaking out in a sweat. During the summer, he's either in the Upside Down, or he's locked himself in the second-hand deep freezer Eddie bought just for the purpose of keeping his monster boyfriend cool- or he's hiding in the morgue while Eddie's working with Gary. (And during the winter, after the first snow, it takes all of Eddie's strength to hold him back from flopping face first into the snow butt ass naked.)

Ridiculous sense of smell- Billy can memorize scent, and can hone in on it better than a bloodhound, with a range of 20-30 miles, similar to a bear. (And like a polar bear... water won't help you shake him.) Like a demogorgon, he can smell blood when he's in the Upside Down, and hone in on it.

The space under his jaw, near where his extra mandibles attach, is very sensitive. Eddie learned this by accident, and witnessed his 14 foot tall monster boyfriend turn into a purring, rumbling puddle.

His face has sensitivity, despite being bare bone- and he loves having his forehead and muzzle stroked/petted. (He loves it when Eddie wraps his arms around his head, so that his chest is pressed against Billy's forehead- he can feel Eddie's heartbeat against the bone and it soothes him.)

In his monster form, Billy has a larynx similar to a male elk, and a set of velar vocal folds, which lets him make some really terrifying sounds to intimidate enemies or threats. (Think combination of an elk bugle and an overlay of a rumbling hiss similar to an alligator) It also allows him to purr/rumble- and he does so a LOT when Eddie pets him.

#fic: take me away #monster!billy hargrove #flayed billy hargrove #having feelings about my monster bf this morning.

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sallysavestheday · 9 months

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Sindar Week Drabbles! #2

@sindarweek, here's another hundred words. This little bite is for @tathrin, fellow appreciator of an oddly-sentient Greenwood and the many ways it baffled the refugees from Doriath.

********

Eryn Galen is not Doriath, the fleeing Sindar learn. The wild Wood keeps its own counsel, with its great speaking network of roots and vines. It watches and learns, telling itself tales through mycorrhizal whispers and kisses from rhizome to rhizome. Rumors sweep, tingling, through the sweet, dark earth and the high green channels of the air. The mycelium dances its gossamer dance: the Iathrim learn from their Nandorin kin to taste its fruit, swallowing the ground’s musk and dreaming, releasing their old selves to be wound in, bound down, lifted up, woven into the very bodies of the trees.

#sindarweek #my fic #2023 Drabbles

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mushroomofficial · 11 months

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hey Aotearoa New Zealand tech workers. join your union

#like i said. do it or i’ll put sand in your bed #new zealand #aotearoa #tech #whispers from the mycelium

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thedo0zyslider · 1 year

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Have a wip snippet of a long fic! It's a scarian hep vs mycelium rsistance fic, and is still a big wip. I have so many ideas for it already though!!

This one comes later in the fic, like wayy into the middle, but it was rotting my brain all day and i simply had to get it out there :] i have been itching to write these two!! (this is a lot longer than i intended wow. scarian nation enjoy)

Scar blinked in surprise, his hands unconsciously coming to rest on a waist that was not his own. Mother Spore was now straddling him in his office chair. Sitting in your arch rival's lap, a bold move. Her gaze was emotionless, hollow. Wide, almost solid black eyes stared down at him, with a wide hollow smile. Her eyes still held flashes of a light blue, and Scar’s heart ached for the person under the mushrooms. Grian....

"You're quite easy to fluster, huh Mister Mayor?" The more feminine voice began to distort as the person above him spoke. It shifted into a more familiar voice, one that Scar never thought he would hear again. It sounded like music to his ears.

"Grian..?" He whispered, barely audible. Why was it giving him back now? Why? Why now, why ever? Why would it be so cruel?

"Hi Scar." The voice said, softer than he has ever heard it. It *was* him. It was Grian. Grian was saying his name again. A hand came to hold his face gently and Scar leaned into it without shame.

"I miss you." He said, looking at the clawed hand on his face. The touch was slightly cold due to the whole mushroom possession thing, but the mayor relished in what warmth he got from the sensation. He hadn’t felt Grian in so long…

"I miss you too.." The avian mumbled, leaning closer to Scar. The latter’s eye fluttered shut once he realized what was happening, leaning upwards to meet Grian in the middle. He knew he shouldn't. He knew it was dangerous but couldn’t help himself. Scar needed this, needed him, like he needed air.

The kiss was soft, and far different from what Scar imagined their first kiss to be like. But it was a nice kiss, a wonderful kiss because it was Grian kissing him. Even if the other had sucked at kissing he wouldn't care. It would still be just as lovely

He let both of Grian’s hands hold his face, bringing them closer and tilting Scar’s head to deepen the kiss. The mayor leaned into everything more, kissing Grian back just as softly, just as longingly.

He leaned in, not caring to stop himself, or Grian, not even when he felt a burning in his mouth, spreading to his throat and into his lungs.

He only opened his eyes when hot tears began to drip down Grian’s cheeks, the wetness brushing against his skin. They pulled away after that, and Scar felt like he could barely breathe. And the feeling was from more than just a simple kiss.

"I'm sorry, Scar I'm sorry.." Grian sobbed, the familiar blue fading from his eyes once more. "It-it made me, I didn't want to. I'm sorry." The sobs became more desperate, more choked and Scar’s heart was aching more than it ever had. "It won't kill you," Grian was almost incoherent, words barely avoiding coming out in a babble. "It's just knock you out or something, I don't know she didn't tell me" Scar’s hands tightened comfortingly on Grian’s waist, he hoped it signaled that he didn’t care. That he wasn't mad and that he understood. He hoped that's what it said, he really did. The mushrooms in his lungs were making it quite difficult to speak.

"Scar I'm sorry, Scar.." Grians voice, and sobs faded as the fungi gained its control again, Grian’s last act being to press the red emergency button Bdubs had installed on the underside of his desk. That had been a good idea in the end, it seemed. The same hand that had cradled Scar’s face wiping away drying tears. It treated the wetness like it was a disease, like Grian’s sorrow was a thing to be purged. It made part of the mayor boil with bubbling hot silent rage, one that he could only have a chance to focus on later.

The red panic lights blared, causing the white walls around them to turn red every flash. Footsteps could be heard running down the hallway. Cub and Bdubs....good. Scar was able to tell by the way each person ran, shoes falling differently against the floor. He didn't have time to dwell on that though, his throat constricting and vision clouding up. All he could see was Mother Spore, her black soulless eye had returned, lacking any of the msichefs Grian's used to have. Eyes that didn’t belong to her, or the fungi. Eyes she'd stolen.

"See you later, Mister Mayor sir." The creature sneered, already too wide smirk widening even more, if possible. The thing using his friend's body leaned down, lips ghosting his, before removing itself from his lap. The action felt gross, wrong, and Scar would've snarled if he had any breath in his lungs .

It left out his office window with a smile, taking Grian, and his body, with it. Mother Spore didn't take to the sky with an elytra like most things, she preferred to walk and spread her fungi as she went. Most people were too scared to attack her, and HEP would be busy keeping him stable. A perfect escape, planned in advance most likely. Of course, he should’ve expected as much. Why else would that thing even visit him in the first place?

Scar coughed a nasty sound, and small spores were thrown into the air. They’d need to decontaminate this room later. But for now he fell out of his chair, making a feeble attempt to catch himself on the edge of the desk. He hit the cold, hard floor with a loud thud, barely managing not to face plant as his vision started to fade. Heh, this wasn't going to help his pre-existing health issues was it? This shrooms would probably spread to the rest of him, the rest of his muscles and limbs, these ones seemed to be particularly fast acting. It had lied to Grian, these spores could absolutely kill him. Dammit. He'd just gotten used to using a cane most of the time.

The last thing the Mayor saw was a door opening, two sets of shoes entering his vision before it faded to black completely. The feeling of choking on mushrooms, of wheezing, or dying left him, but was sure to return once he woke up in a hospital bed later. Oh how Scar hated hospital beds.

He lost consciousness thinking of Grian, how he'd wanted the first kiss to be different and full of love and not this. He thought of what that thing had done to his friend, how it used his body like a toy. How Grian’s scarlet wings hadn’t been cleaned in weeks and the pain it surely was causing his physical body. How much pain had Grian been in then, been in before and might be after this, when he was allowed short bursts of consciousness. And then he wondered if the other resistance members got the same treatment, if Etho was allowed his mask, if Stress was okay. If Ren, Impulse, Doc, and xB and Jevin were still alive, if they're mind had consumed the fungi or if they'd been devoured long ago. He wondered if Mumbo had just barely escaped the devouring of his mind, if that's what happened, if they'd saved him and killed the fungi inside him just in time. It made Scar want to tear that disgusting purple fungus out of his grass more violently than before.

Scar lost consciousness vowing to get Grian back, even if it killed him. He would try to live of course, but he didn't think he could con a fungal hivemind more than he already had, master conman skills aside.

So if death was the price required, he'd pay, he'd die happily for it.

All for you, G. All for you.

I love you.

#ron.writing #fic sneak peek #fic snippet #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #hermitcraft season 7 #hc s7 #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #hermitcraft grian #mycelium resistance #mother spore #mayor scar #scarian #desert duo

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lasudio · 27 days

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VeronaHills, Round Seven: McGreggor

Over the seasons, Leod had become more in tune with his crops.

Faeries were known for their ability to hear the murmuring mycelium and respond to the roots. As a wee lad, Leod would put his ear to the ground and listen, but he'd only hear the chuckles of ma and da as they watched from the porch. He missed their laughter now, but something else had changed: when he knelt to tend plants, they seemed to rustle their leaves with intent.

Water was the first whisper Leod heard from the eggplants. He dutifully showered their soil and heard the word dance. A breeze blew by and the budding eggplants performed gentle bounces.

Aye, Leod thought. I'm losing the plot.

A howl summoned Leod to the front of the house, where Bailey the white wolf threw him a lopsided smile. He recalled another childhood faerie tale - forest guardians choosing to appear as wolves.

Not losing the plot, then. For whatever reason, nature deemed Leod worthy of hearing its call. Farmhand Jonah seemed exempt from this, for the time being anyway. The young lad seemed more concerned with the voices of passerbys, like the woman asking him to vouch for his ex-girlfriend Roxie, about to marry the Monty heir... tangled, trivial human things.

#sims 2 #veronahills #leod mcgreggor #jonah powers #olivia monty #bailey #mcgreggor

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thebibutterflyao3 · 1 month

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Day Twenty-One - Mushroom @sapphicmicrofics

April Daily Series - 961 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Marlene needed a solid plan. She was a bit shite at improvising on the fly. That’s why she was a good goalie, Marlene didn’t need to be creative with her saves. She stuck to her tried and true methods and refused to be baited out of her net.

I need evidence. She can’t argue with tangible proof that we belong together. Then again, she can’t argue if I’m kissing her either.

Technically, Dorcas could argue with a wall. That’s why she would make a brilliant lawyer. Marlene had no chance to win a verbal battle. Dorcas’s weakness was that she was sentimental. She still had the bowl they made together in the sitting room and hadn’t scratched out her message underneath, Marlene checked.

Goal: Convince Dorcas to take me back.

Steps: 1. Reminiscing 2. Kissing 3. Confessing my love.

It was a lofty goal, to be fair, and with a bruised nose, her charm had a heavy burden to overcome. Unless of course, Dorcas wanted to kiss her out of pity. Marlene certainly wouldn’t turn her down.

Kissing Dorcas was the key. They always spoke more clearly through physical affection. Dorcas couldn’t mistake her meaning, no matter how poorly her message was delivered.

Once they reached the flat, Dorcas disappeared into her room. Marlene was tempted to follow and continue their banter. Arguing often led to kissing, in her experience.

“Marlene,” Pandora whispered, waving her into the kitchen.

Curious, Marlene followed the summons. She checked the bedroom door before stepping into the kitchen, but it remained shut. Hopefully, Dorcas was simply changing her clothes.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Lily asked. “I don’t want to upset Dorcas on my second day here.”

Pandora hushed her gently, then focused on Marlene. “Are you a mushroom or a tree?”

“Huh?” Marlene glanced between the two women with a frown. “What does that mean?”

“Are you surface level?” Pandora elaborated, gesturing with impatience.

Marlene stared at her blankly. She was starting to wonder if she’d wandered onto a planet where everyone’s brains were extra wrinkly, while hers had begun to smooth. Either everyone in this flat was far too clever for a normal sod to understand, or they were complete nutters.

“I want to say ‘huh’ again, but I have a feeling that’s not the answer you’re looking for.”

Lily giggled. “She means your feelings for Dorcas. We can tell that you still care for her, but how deep does it go? How much is buried underneath? Is it like a tree’s roots? Or is it like a mushroom’s mycelium?”

“Plants aren’t really my thing,” Marlene said slowly, reaching for the door. “Hold on, I think I need a translator. Regulus? Do you speak plant nerd?”

A sharp snort from Regulus was followed by a booming laugh from James. The pair appeared in the doorway with matched grins. Regulus’s head cocked when he met Pandora’s intense gaze.

“Plant nerd?” he repeated, eyebrows raised.

“Am I a tree or a mushroom?” Marlene asked, shrugging. “If I had to pick a plant, I would have said eggplant just for a laugh, but this is over my head.”

“More like nettles,” James added with a smirk as he poked her arm repeatedly. “Little jabs that annoy the piss out of you and are impossible to ignore.”

Marlene flipped him off. “Not helping. Regulus? Care to give it a go?”

Regulus grabbed James’s hands and wrapped them around his waist, immediately distracting his boyfriend. “Behave, mon amour. Now, what are we talking about? Trees and mushrooms?”

Pandora scoffed, “It’s not that complicated! It was a metaphor for her feelings for Dorcas.”

“Marls doesn’t speak metaphorically either,” James said, propping his chin on Regulus’s head.

Marlene pointed at him in agreement. “What he said.”

Regulus frowned. “This isn’t any of our business, Panda.”

“Which is why I was using metaphors!” Pandora defended. She stepped forward and gripped Marlene’s chin, then tugged her head down. “Are you in love with Dorcas?”

“Yes, obviously. Who wouldn’t be?” Marlene snarked.

Lily, Regulus, and James all raised their hands. She glanced between them in confusion until Pandora forced her attention back on her face. For such a tiny woman, she was rather demanding. Marlene liked her already.

“Trees are show-offs, surface-level lovers. Their roots cannot support them and that’s why they fall. Shallow affection isn’t enough. Mushrooms have root systems that dig deep in the soil, connect with others and grow constantly. They can survive in any weather, withstand any trial. If the mushroom is plucked, it will simply regrow. Soul deep love survives,” Pandora explained tersely. “So, are you a mushroom or a tree?”

“Oooh. I’m a ‘shroom then. A psychedelic ‘shroom!”

James grinned wide. “That must be why Peter puts up with you.”

Pandora groaned and rubbed at her forehead. “You’re such a twit! I cannot begin to understand why Dorcas built a shrine for you.”

“A what now?” Marlene spluttered.

Lily cringed hard. “Perhaps ‘shrine’ is too strong of a word, love.”

“No, it’s not.”

Marlene waved her hands urgently. “Wait, wait, wait! What kind of shrine? Are we talking candles and voodoo dolls or hero worship?”

“Does it really matter?” James asked, nudging her shoulder with his own. “You would be into either of them.”

“True, but I want to be prepared. What kink am I appealing to? Am I sacrificing my body to my goddess or blessing her with my lofty gaze?”

James’s laugh bounced around the walls of the kitchen, while Regulus buried his face in his boyfriend’s neck and shook with silent laughter. Even Lily giggled, but Pandora continued to glare at Marlene. She was a tough nut to crack.

Oh good, now I’m making plant metaphors. It’s contagious! Maybe Pandora is poison ivy.

#dorlene microfics #dorlene #marlene x dorcas #marlene mckinnon x dorcas meadows #dorcas x marlene #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #slytherin skittles #marauders era girls #marauders girls #marauders characters #marauders era

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arbitrarygreay · 7 days

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I feel kind of bad that I'm not that interested in Scylla over the course of the show? After ruminating over it, I found that it seems that Scylla works best as a dynamic character, challenging others or being challenged. That's why she shined most in late S1 and through S2, working with Anacostia and Willa, and even the stretches in S3 when she's paired with Nicte or Edwin. When Scylla is actively influencing other people through her actions, that's when I like her best. (Seriously, I could watch Anacostia and Scylla doing The Witch from AUNTIE as its own show.) But once we get into later S3, no matter what they say on paper about her being one of the unit now, that rings false. The chemistry isn't nearly as good (though to be fair, even the core trio chemistry was kind of muted outside of reunion hugs). Especially once Raelle disappears, the threads of conflict where Scylla might strike sparks with Abigail and Tally vanish in favor of her just being desperate and the other two trying to comfort her, but not in a way that digs into them learning about each other the way they did with Raelle. And, of course, Anacostia is split off on her own storyline. Scylla's edge is still there on paper from Morrigan's Whisper, but no one gives a fuck about the ethics of it, so it still feels like her Spree parts were wholly transferred to Nicte. What's left is Necro, but since the Mycelium is being interfered with it also just doesn't go far, while Izadora is holding down the "Necros are weird" fort. Raelle and Scylla's role in S1 was to question the militarism, and that thread got dropped. No one ever made real amends to them. (The "military wrongs" part was re-centered on the Tally/Alder/Nicte drama, but all that did was submit to Great (Wo)Man Theory, like it was all fixed by Alder stepping down.) Raelle is a pretty passive character, so once she's got the chip out of her shoulder, that pairing needs Scylla to not just follow her lead, but to pull her towards causes that don't fully align with everyone else's. If both of them are falling into line, there's something missing (which is why I was honestly pretty bored by the wedding! let them be weirdo necros Abigail!). Maybe I'm just too old to be compelled by plain Zuko redemption now (especially when the show provides so many more "I support women's war crime wrongs" MILFscharacters to have fun watching). But I also have a trend of preferring the trashfire subtext ships over the canon "cute capital-r Representation! we're so authentic! no problematic allowed!" femslash.

#motherland fort salem #not tagging this properly for reasons #category: tv #category: femslash #5 #scylla ramshorn #raelle collar #is their ship name raella? collarshorn? ramscollar?#raelle x scylla #all good ships should be little a fucked up. as a treat

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eevee-eclair · 2 years

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Heyhey it me again, back at it with the angst. Specifically based on THIS and THIS art by @daddy-dingus (if they want me to take it down I will)

I saw the first art and thought “oh, let’s write that”. But then I remembered the second and my brain decided to connect them up. So! Have this!

Not Afraid

Tws: body horror, crying, blood, mushrooms/fungi, a crossbow, torture, kidnapping (tell me if I missed one)

—

Scar held his crossbow tightly, trying to hide his shaking hands. He grit his teeth, failing terribly to hide the tears on his face and the fear in his eyes. Mother Spore’s empty sockets bore into him, his permanent smile never wavering.

He sucked in a breath and took a—hopefully—threatening step forward. “Tell me the name of god, you fungal piece of-… thing!” he shouted, aiming the arrow right at his neck.

Mother Spore didn’t budge. His echoey voice filtered around him, making his gut twist tightly. He felt sick, he felt sweaty, he felt afraid.

“Can you feel your heart burning?” he crooned, his mouth never moving. “Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond your soul can make.”

Even with no eyes, it looked liked he was staring into his soul.

“You cannot kill me in a way that matters.”

Scar’s grip tightened, enough to where he thought the crossbow would snap. He shoved the arrow forward, biting his quivering lip. He was the mayor. He was supposed to be strong. Brave. Powerful.

Why was he shaking so bad?

“I’m not scared of you!” he cried. By now, tears were leaking from his eyes and down his chin.

Mother Spore just laughed. It was hollow, empty, and mocking. Scar took a step back as he took a step forward. He kept coming at him, the arrow pointed at him not deterring his advance. Scar kept backing up, until his back hit something solid. A wall.

“You should be,” he purred.

Scar swallowed and yelped as the crossbow was taken from his hands. Not roughly, but gently. As if he were a small child who was holding a pair of scissors. Mother Spore kept staring at him, his sockets never leaving Scar’s emerald eyes.

He swallowed again, taking a small breath to find his voice. Maybe he could reason his way out?

“Grian,” he whispered, putting every ounce of love and care he could into his name. An old name. “I know you’re still in there…” He didn’t know. “Please come back to me.”

Suddenly, a hand was on his throat. He tried to take in a sharp gasp, but his airflow was being cut off completely. Mother Spore stared him down, still with those empty sockets.

“He’s not coming back.”

Scar tried to croak out something, but his eyes started to roll back. His vision spotted, his limbs went slack, and he was out.

——

Scar woke up tied to a chair. He slowly raised his head, looking around. The room was far too dark for him to make out, but he noticed a few small things.

For one, there was a small, dull light above him. He looked up. It was a luminescent mushroom, glowing a faint, pulsing red. Second, his shirt was undone and messy. As for why, he didn’t know. And third, there was a dark silhouette was standing in the shadows in front of him.

And he knew who it was.

He sucked in a breath. “Wh-what do you want?” he asked, testing the ropes on his wrists. They were tight enough to cut off his circulation. “Why am I here?”

Mother Spore slowly came forward. Scar couldn’t stop from flinching when his sockets bore into him. “You don’t like mycelium, Scar,” he said.

Scar blinked. He really wasn’t expecting that. Of course he didn’t like mycelium! Look what it did to Grian! To Etho! To the whole Mycelium Resistance! Hell, look what’s it’s done to tear the server apart!

When he voiced this, Mother Spore just laughed again. “You don’t like mycelium,” he repeated, stepping closer and closer. And this time, Scar couldn’t get away.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t try, though. He wiggled in the chair, his breathing picking up. “N-no! No I don’t!” he snapped. “And I never will!”

Mother Spore kept laughing. “You don’t like mycelium.”

He blinked and tears fell down his cheeks again. When did he start crying? “Quit saying that!”

He finally stopped. By now, he was practically on top of him. Scar expected him to repeat himself yet again. He stayed silent, though. He opened his mouth to snark at him, but a loud, hard slap crouched through the room.

Scar gasped as he head was snapped to the side. Grian slapped him. No, Mother Spore slapped him. He blinked, the tears still slowly falling, and looked back at him.

“You hit me,” he said dumbly.

“You need to learn to hold your tongue,” he responded. His tone was that of a condescending parent. “Why don’t you like mycelium?”

He scowled. This wasn’t Grian. He was done playing nice. He was done treating this like a game. It was time to be the mayor and protect his people.

“Because it turns people like Grian into people like you!” he shouted, leaning forward as far as his restraints would allow.

A cold, dead hand grabbed his chin and forced his face up. All the anger drained from him at once and he shivered as it was replaced by the icy grips of fear. Mother Spore tilted his head to the left, to the right, up and down, and then nodded once.

He let him go and Scar shrunk back as far as he could. He watched with morbid curiosity as Mother Spore reached into his eye and pulled out a small, red and white spotted mushroom.

Mycelium.

“Don’t worry, Scar,” he said, holding the fungus between careful fingers.

He brought it to his forehead and Scar panicked. He did his best to kick and fight and shake his head, but Mother Spore inevitably won. He moved his hair back and placed it down. The roots immediately took hold and he grit his teeth to keep from screaming.

He looked up at him, blood running down his face, mixing with his tears. Mother Spore moved his hand back and looked at him. His smiled still didn’t drop.

“You’ll get to like mycelium soon enough.”

#eevee writes #hermitcraft #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #Grian #hc season 7

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probssomethingorother · 7 months

Text

Whumptober No. 27!

Ellie One-Shot, Hurt/No Comfort, Scar Removal (ish)

Ellie was impulsive - sure - but she wasn’t dumb. If she was finally going to get rid of the scar, some planning was necessitated. And it was that planning that had her now sitting alone on her bathroom floor, bracing herself up against the sink vanity, ready to finally hack out the grotesque reminder of every horrible thing that happened in the last year. -- Ellie's first try at removing her scar is not with chemicals that burn her skin.

TW: Cutting/ Self-Injurious behaviors

Finish reading it below the cut or on Ao3! but don't forget to drop a comment wherever you read :)

She had thought about it just enough to know she was going to do it, but not enough to talk herself out of it.

Enough to take a bowl Joel wouldn’t miss from the kitchen.

Enough to go to the linen closet and grab the oldest towel in the house.

Enough to sneak into his bathroom a few days prior and steal a razor blade insert from the shaver he never used.

And enough to wait for a day when he was on patrol.

Ellie was impulsive - sure - but she wasn’t dumb. If she was finally going to get rid of the scar, some planning was necessitated.

And it was that planning that had her now sitting alone on her bathroom floor, bracing herself up against the sink vanity, ready to finally hack out the grotesque reminder of every horrible thing that happened in the last year.

She traces the small ridges over and over, finger pads delicately following the raised squiggles that branch out from the remaining teeth impressions. The longest is maybe five inches, but it’s hard to tell if perhaps there’s more of it - or any of them - just burrowed down in her muscles and away from the surface of her skin.

Ellie sucks in a deep breath as she clenches her fist and braces her forearm up against her bent knee. She grabs the small flashlight and clicks it on, the snap of the plastic echoing in her small bathroom. She sticks it between her teeth and angles it at her arm, before reaching up with her free hand to grab the small razor blade off the edge of the counter, eyeing it carefully as she retrieves it.

She turns the cool metal over in her fingers, trying to decide the best place to start while biting down on the small light to keep herself steady. She didn’t think she would be nervous, but subtle twinges of worry were slowly starting to bubble in her stomach.

Ellie checks for the tweezers, towel, and bowl, again, all sitting next to her on the tile floor - just where she left them - perfectly in reach.

She takes another breath as she turns her head back toward her arm. She unclenches her fist and wipes it along her jeans - her palm having gone quite sweaty - and then resumes the position.

Don’t be a chicken.

Ellie presses the blade to her skin and scrapes it down. It’s not anywhere near hard or deep enough, producing a scratch at most, barely slicing the top layer of skin. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, feeling pretty dumb about the failure.

“Come on Williams," she whispers to herself, the self-encouragement coming out jumbled with the light still firmly in place between her teeth.

Without any second thought, she tries again, starting at her arm intensely as she touches the blade to her forearm, applying much more pressure this time.

She waits till she sees her skin dip under the force and feels a prick of pain before dragging it down hard. There is some resistance she wasn’t expecting, but she just clenches her jaw and continues to cut. She only lifts the razor away once she’s made a several-inch long line that bisects a particularly dense area of mycelium strands.

It doesn’t bleed immediately, and at first, she wonders if perhaps there is nothing there to bleed, that underneath it all, her arm is just totally taken over by fungus.

When she sliced that crushed clicker on his forehead a year ago, that’s all there was - white threads tightly knitted across his skull.

Is that what she looked like inside?

Part of her wanted to know, part of her didn’t.

There isn’t much more time to think about though, only seconds later, the edges of the cut start to turn red, and then blood seeps up and through. She watches as it pools at the opening and then eventually breaks with tension, trailing down her arm.

She’s so entranced by her own blood for a moment that she doesn't even go to stave it off, some of the crimson substance dripping down and falling on her jeans.

She quickly shakes herself out of it and drops the razor into the bowl, thing metal clattering against the ceramic. She retrieves the towel and presses it firmly over the slice, screwing her eyes shut when the action immediately stings.

Carefully she lifts the old tan towel away, raising just a couple of inches, while she leans her head to the side so the beam of the flashlight can catch the wound. It’s still bleeding - a lot- and Ellie quickly puts the towel back down over it.

She casts a glance to the tweezers, then to her hand holding the towel, and then back again to the tweezers.

Fuck.

She lets her head fall back against the cabinet door with a thud, annoyed that she hadn’t really thought this part through enough. She wasn’t going to be able to see a goddamn thing - pull and dig at a goddamn thing - if it just kept bleeding. She only had one fucking hand now - not even the dominant one - and it could either hold the towel and wipe away blood, or it could hold the fucking tweezers.

Ellie groans, feeling the frustration coil tighter in her chest, anger slowly brewing. The light flickers slightly as she grits her teeth, the flashlight still uncomfortably wedged between them. She doesn’t have time for this.

Not that she has anywhere to be, but the longer she spends alone in the bathroom, the higher the risk becomes that Joel finds her carving up her arm - walking in on her randomly or breaking down the door when she doesn’t respond.

She exhales sharply, releasing the towel for a moment, her gaze fixating on the blood that's now freely flowing from the gash. It’s a stark, vivid red against her pale skin. She’s never gotten woozy around blood, but for some reason the longer she stares at it the tighter her throat gets, a ball of anxiousness burgeoning. She quickly pushes the towel back over it, hoping that will also help the throbbing that’s begun.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Ellie makes a decision. She pries away the towel again, yanking it a little this time as the fibers stick to her skin. She straightens up against the vanity, letting her legs kick out just a little so they aren’t so tightly coiled up to her chest, but still bent so she can break against them. She takes the towel and uses it to wipe at her, the rough texture scraping against her skin, and causing a burning sensation when it passes over the slice. Wincing, she blots at the wound carefully, trying to soak up as much as she can, before ultimately giving up.

Holding her right arm away, Ellie uses her left to lay out the blood-stained towel over her thighs and lap, covering up her jeans. She puts her right arm back up against her leg. When she goes to make a fist this time, she can’t help but see that her hand is now shaking, something she tries hard to ignore, clamping the quivers away.

Her heart hammers in her chest, a relentless drumbeat echoing in her ears. She picks up the tweezers, her left hand joining the right and now also softly trembling. Hands sweaty and wet with a little blood, combined with the quivers, they slip from her grasp, landing on her lap.

“Fuck,” she mutters at the small inconvenience, and retrieves them, grasping the pair a bit tighter this time.

With a determined squint, she aims the flashlight beam at her arm, the light bouncing off the crimson that now paints her skin. She pushes the tip of the tweezer into the edge of the slice and tries to push it away to see more inside, but it does little other than bring pain. Even with the flashlight, all she can really see is a lot of red.

Ellie grits her teeth, fighting back a cry of frustration and pain. She pushes the tweezers deeper, probing into her flesh. She could see the ridges from the right under her skin, yet, now it was open, they were somehow illusive.

She pinches at random bits, feeling around for something. Each movement sends jolts of agony up her arm, but she doesn't relent, just grips her hand tighter, and tucks her chin into her chest whenever she hits something especially sensitive sending shock-like tingles up to her fingers.

After a minute of fruitless probing, she takes a moment, letting her head drop back, and spitting the flashlight into her lap. She wiggles her jaw, stretching it after biting down so hard on the plastic, and takes the moment to blow out a deep breath through her lips, before sucking in another shake one.

She knew it was going to hurt, but god that hurt like motherfucker.

Ellie didn’t give herself a long reprieve at all, especially since she could feel the towel growing wet with more and more blood, it getting weighty and soaking through her thin jeans. She grabbed a slightly cleaner edge to the towel and wiped away the excess blood, before positing the the flashing light in her mouth again and grabbing the tweezers.

This time, she can just make out the glint of something other than blood toward the bottom of the cut - mycelium.

She moves her head to have the light catch it better as she moves the tweezers in place to grasp at it. Determination sets in her jaw as she clamps the tweezers around one strand. It's slippery, and when she goes to tug it up, it falls from the ends of the tweezers snapping together with sharp metal twangs.

Shit.

She tries again, only to have the same thing happen again, although somehow it does elicit more pain this time that has her vision going blurry for just a second, making her pause.

Screwing her eyes shut and then reopens them, before pushing her head closer to her arm, light and focus going closer.

She can see another strand just poking out from the side, the majority of it still buried beneath her skin and not out in the open from the slice. She reaches for it with the tweezers, her movements are awkward and shaky, but as she tries to grab the white little fiber, it's like it senses her intention this time. The mycelium clearly wiggles and slips away, retreating back to the side and burrowing deeper into her flesh.

Panic and horror flutter in Ellie’s chest.

She was not expecting them to actually fucking move.

For a moment, she wants to vomit.

And then she just really wants them all fucking out.

The scar no longer mattered; If the mycelium was alive within her, she was an extension of it. She was it. And if she was it... Jesus Christ.

… Riley, Tess, Sam…

She was a harbinger of fucking death.

Amongst the panic, and horror, and disgust, a wave of humiliation crashes into her, dumbstruck that she ever once believed she was some miracle cure. She nothing more than an infected.

And she didn’t want to be - couldn’t be.

Ellie drops the tweezers quickly and grabs the razor again, something almost primal taking over, a weird surge of adrenaline. She takes the sharp edge of the blade and pushes it into another smaller patch of raised mycelium ridges. She drags the metal till it cuts, before doing it again, and again. Four askew slices now paint her arm, all bleeding - maybe too profusely.

It could be the adrenaline, but it doesn’t hurt all that much when she does it. And even if it did hurt, all Ellie really could process is the fact that the fungus is inside her, moving and living.

She frantically wipes some of the blood away, this time foregoing the towel entirely and just using her hand before grabbing the tweezers and diving in.

Her heart beats so hard in her chest that it feels like it might break something and the way her ribcage rises and falls so noticeably begs the question if it's from her heart moving or her lungs. Her breaths are coming in more rushed and heavy, practically choking out of her mouth as she still holds the goddamn flashlight there.

The light does help some, but Ellie also thinks the mycelium fibers, might actually be moving away from it. Even so, she can’t make herself spit out the light - now using it as something to bear down on as much as a tool.

Her arm and hands are visibly shaking now, and she has to concentrate hard to position the tweezers where they need to go. Somehow, she manages to latch onto a strand revealed by one of the newer slices. She pinches the tweezers hard, with a mix of desperation and hope, making sure she really has a grip on the fiber.

Her breath hitches as she pulls at it, but it's like tugging at a deeply rooted weed. The pain is blinding, a white-hot flash that threatens to swallow her consciousness. Her hand trembles violently, but she keeps pulling. It produces a deep pressure and strange burning sensation that ripples through her entire arm. She can feel her forearm muscles contracting, the cramping just adding yet another layer of intense discomfort.

She screws her eye shut as she stomps her foot into the tile floor, trying to get some release from it all while still mustering through. Tears prick at her waterline.

She screams in her throat as she pulls again, tweezers almost slipping from her fingers. Yet, it won't budge. It's entrenched in her, a part of her. It makes her stomach churn.

She spits out the flashlight in frustration, and it clatters onto the bathroom floor, the beam dancing across the baseboards as it settles. Mouth-free, Ellie bites down hard, molars digging into each other as she tries again to keep pulling at the strand.

About two inches of the mycelium string hangs out of the cut now, the rest still somewhere buried deep. She can see it wiggling in the grip of the tweezers ever so slightly and can feel another part of it somewhere deep trying to retract the rest of its length. It’s an entirely new feeling, that makes her head spin.

She bangs her head against the back of the cabinet door, several times. She feels the sting, but it's nothing compared to everything else. She closes her eyes, sucks in a shaky breath, and then opens them with a renewed sense of determination.

When her shaky hand pulls at the fiber again, it slides out just a little more, scratching at her muscles, before going straight and tight. And then suddenly, it snaps.

When it breaks, just a minuscule part is let in the mouth of the tweezers while the more considerable bit drops down to her arm lamely. Ellie watches in horror as the fiber twitches, and then slithers back inside of her, disappearing into the bloody mess of her wound. Frantically, she tries to catch it before it can completely disappear, but her large fingers in comparison aren’t able to grab at the small strand.

A wave of nausea hits her, and her vision swims. The bathroom feels impossibly hot, and she can feel cold sweat beading on her forehead.

Angrily, she chucks the tweezers into the small bowl, the tiny bit of mycelium twitching around like a bug on the brink of death, as it lays discarded.

Ellie leans back, sliding down a little, as she tries to take some controlled breaths. She can’t bring herself to look at her arm and instead trains her gaze forward on the old faded floral wallpaper. Ellie's breaths come in ragged gasps as she feels herself getting woozier, the blood loss starting to take its toll. She's aware of the blood still flowing, a warm, sticky presence on her skin. The room starts to spin, and she can feel her grip on consciousness loosening.

“Fuck.Shit.Fuck,” she mumbles as she hits her head back against the cabinet again, tears growing in her waterline, but not spilling over quite yet.

“Great fucking job Williams.” Ellie slurs, her words sounding distant to her own ears. In a shock to even herself, her head slips and lolls forward for a second, vision flashing black for a second, until she tips her head back into place. The yellow light of the bathroom starts to become filled with something akin to little tiny stars and static, and Ellie knows she should be doing something, but her brain is all fuzzy, working a little slow.

Her eyes drift down to her arm, and she actually doesn’t recognize it. She’s looking right at it, but it doesn’t feel like hers.

She swallows down hard and tries to focus.

She takes the now very dirty and damp towel off her lap and bunches it up as much as possible in her left hand before weakly pressing it directly onto her forearm. The pain from the pressure is immediate, accompanied by more stars popping up in her vision, dancing about.

When she gets used to them enough, Ellie attempts to make her way to standing. She bends her legs trying to get her feet to grasp the slick tile but it doesn’t do much, forcing her to roll onto her side and then get onto her knees. From there, she shakily tries to stand, but her balance is all without the use of her hands, making her body sway back and forth. She almost trips when she does it, and instinctively, her arms shoot out to brace against the bathroom counter. Even with her left hand and towel as a buffer, the pain is immense when her forearm connects with the countertop.

Her mouth falls open, in shock, but no sound comes up.

Hurtssofucking bad fuck.

And just as the pain starts to subside a fraction, she’s jostled again, as the door opens and slams into her shoulder.

It takes a minute for her brain to register what’s happening, head turning toward the doorway belatedly, eyes wide and glassy. Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, struggles to make out the figure standing in the doorway, a silhouette framed by the dim light of her bedroom.

Her brain can’t grasp how someone is now here, with her.

That was not supposed to happen.

"Ellie?" The voice cuts through the haze, tinged with alarm.

Tommy.

Her vision zeroes in, features coming into focus.

Ellie takes a wobbly step back, letting him finish opening the door and step inside himself.

The sight that greets him — all the blood, drops, and handprints of it everywhere, Ellie's pale, sweat-soaked face — freezes him for a moment, leaving the two just standing, staring at each other dumbfounded.

That is until Ellie’s knee gives out, almost crumbling down to the floor but manages to catch herself on the bathroom vanity, her left hand moving away from her right to keep herself up. The minute he sees her going down Tommy is jumping into action, grabbing her at the waist to keep her up.

Holding her in his arms, Tommy tucks his chin into his chest so he can get a better vantage point to peer down her face. Her eyes are open but dazed, and her breathing seems a bit shallow. She tries to steady herself, but her legs are uncooperative, trembling, and unable to push up against the tile.

“What the hell happened, Ellie?” Tommy all but whispers, his gaze scanning the chaos in the bathroom again before hoisting her up a little, so his arms better slip up and under her armpits. They are chest to chest, with her arms flipping out toward the side - the position isn’t great, but it’s keeping her from meeting the floor. Her head lolls against his shoulder and the towel that was now on the ground, allowing her blood to drip onto the tiled floor, with a soft patter.

Ellie tries to speak, but her words are lost in a raspy breath. She just shakes her head, unable to articulate anything other than, “I was just tryin’-“ before trailing off, her own eyes also wandering down to the pool of blood at her feet.

Tommy doesn’t wait for the rest of the answer, and quickly pulls her from the bathroom, scooping her up into his arms the second he has room past the doorway.

As he crosses the few paces to her bed, Ellie mumbles, ”I-I tried to... get it out," her voice a mere whisper, laced with pain and a delirium that frightens Tommy more than the blood by a long shot.

Carefully, he drops her onto the bed, trying to protect her arm, but she still winces, sucking in a breath threw her teeth as her face contorts in pain.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tommy apologizes softly, as he turns and leaves her, quite literally running out of her bedroom and to the hallway closet to retrieve more towels.

When he returns a fraction of a second later, Ellie’s just barely leaning over the side of her bed, dry heaving. Tommy rushes to Ellie's side, throwing the towels on the bed and plopping onto the edge of it next to her, his expression a mix of concern and urgency.

His hands hover for a second, unsure where to touch, afraid to cause her more pain, before falling down. He places one hand on her back while his other gently presses into her forehead, giving her something to brace against.

"Hey, hey, easy now," he murmurs, trying to offer some comfort amidst the chaos. The heaving only lasts a minute or two, but it's a long torturous minute, very retch sending spikes of pain through her arm. “You’re okay, you’re okay, kiddo.”

Ellie's response is nothing more than a weak nod, her body trembling. The blood seeps into the sheets, staining them a dark, ominous red.

"Okay, okay," Tommy mutters more to himself than to her, trying to gather his thoughts. When her body settles, he gently maneuvers her away from the edge of the bed, tipping her back over so she’s lying down. “Let me, um, let me see this,” he says lowly under his breath, almost lost as to what he should be doing for her right now.

With a lot of trepidation, he finds her wet bloody arm, and carefully grasps it at the wrist and elbow, moving it supine on the bed. He leans over her body to grab a towel and then gently places it over her arm. He quickly glances up to her face, only to find Ellie’s eyes closed.

His heart clenches in his chest and his stomach bottoms out.

He doesn’t give her any warning, he presses down on the tool, both hands applying heaving pressure to the entirety of her small arm. Ellie's body stiffens, a throaty groan escaping her lips as her eyes flutter open. He watches her, his own breath held, his eyes scanning her face anxiously trying to read her reaction. But despite the pain he was surely causing her, Ellie’s face remained relatively deadpan, clearly dazed from blood loss.

Tommy gently removes the towel, wincing at the sight of the deep, jagged cuts. ”What did you do, kid?" He softly says voice cracking with a mix of fear and sorrow, as he pushes the towel back into her arm.

He isn’t expecting her to answer, so when her small voice lands on his ears, he whips his head up, eyes meeting hers.

Her eyelids flutter, her voice barely a whisper. "I thought... I could fix it.”

“Fix what kid?”

”I didn’t want it,” she slurs, eyes barely focusing on him. “-I didn’t to be it,” she finishes, shaking her head, weakly scratching it against her pillow. Her eyes close shut, and when they do, tears finally trickle out.

“Okay, okay, that’s all right, kiddo,” Tommy replies, as he sucks in a shaky breath and lets one of his hands leave her arm. Delicately, he uses the back of his finger to wipe at the tears trailing down her cheek.

“Tommy you hear yet?”

Relief and fear crash into Tommy, as Joel’s booming voice calls up the stairs while the front door slams shut, rattling the entire house.

“Joel!” He calls, the desperation clear in his voice, eyes flickering back and forth between the doorway and Ellie as he waits for Joel to make it up the stairs.

He hears his brother’s boots clomping up the stairs, clearly with haste, and the minute he sees his silhouette in the doorway, Tommy can’t hold back, the rushed words stumbling from his mouth.

“I foun- ..I think she tried to kill herself.”

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