#2023: free write

[kinetic-elaboration]

November 24: Bellarke, Strong/Weak

I break my block (at least partially) by writing a little ficlet at 3am. LOL RIP me.

Written for a prompt off my July Break Bingo card: strong, and its antonyms (weak, frail, powerless, small)

This is in the same universe as my Time Loop fic Make a Lot of Money and Feel Dead Inside. It's semi-spoilery for some stuff that's not yet published but not overly so. More like, it will make more sense later but nothing in here should be too surprising if you've read Ch1. And if you've read none of it, also fine, this is a prequel type thing.

Bellarke, Modern AU, ~1000 words, written in about 35 minutes

*

Sometimes Clarke asks him to tell her stories, too, and the stories are always about strength. Strength, and perseverance, and fortitude through adversity. He lays the details on thick: the hero’s prominent muscles, the heroine's steadfast and impregnable heart, the ease with which a man picks up a woman and holds her in his arms—every little crevice and thin, twining vein of detail he can find so they can wallow in it, live in it, the idea of a power so profound and so natural that it can never waver, never succumb to doubt.

As he winds out these threads, she stares up at him, lets her fingers play blindly against his arms, his own muscles, taut beneath his skin, and his own words sound like a distant rush in his ears as he looks down into her unblinking, crystalline blue eyes.

He's leaning too much into this habit lately: waiting for Octavia to fall asleep and then creeping out of his own house like a burglar, rolling his bike down the street by its handlebars until he gets to the corner, as if he were being quieter or less suspicious that way. Then he pedals his way to Clarke's house, feeling the night all around him soft and warm, and the rush of air he's created against his face and blowing back his hair. Most nights, the bugs are humming, buzzing loud and the night feels riotous by the time he gets to her place. Strands of hair are sticking to his face with sweat and he's breathing hard, like all this way he was running from something and his life depended on it. He lets the bike fall down in the yard by the big tree with the tire swing, its wheels still spinning, winces at the indecorous metallic sound it makes, and breathes in deep of growing spring humidity and wet and warmth as he tilts his head back and stares up at the dark windows of the house. There's no car in the driveway: Abby on the night shift again.

Clarke's window looks out over the back. When he sneaks around to the backyard, he sees her light still burning.

He never tells her when he's coming over because it would be admitting too much, and fuck he's sneaking out so often now she probably expects him every night—but she never tells him she's waiting up. After the first couple times, she stopped showing any surprise. And she never, not even the first time, has said anything about not wanting him to stay. The route up to her window is precarious and awkward, and she still has to pull him, torso first, through the narrow opening, sweaty and overgrown and with all his limbs stretching out in the wrong places, his muddy boots threatening her bedroom carpet, every time.

Being in Clarke Griffin's bedroom in the middle of the night always feels forbidden and profane and yet predetermined all at once, like he's breaking all the rules to be exactly where he needs to be. A contradiction that slots neatly into his ideas of himself. He's the unflagging strength that does the impossible, the rage-fueled need that just protects and protects and protects, and that's so deep-ingrained he's not sure how he would live without it, but he's the groveling, frail, powerless little boy, too, out of breath and ragged after running all night. This second deep-down part of him needs those stories like breathing, and he needs the sanctuary of Clarke's neat, rectangular bedroom, with the blue-painted walls, her twin four-poster bed in the corner of the room.

She's running her fingers through his hair and kissing his face like she's not seen him in years instead of hours, kisses that linger on his cheeks and his nose, little breaths that he hears against the shell of his ear. The kisses on his mouth linger longest. He wants to pick her up and press her against the wall.

Throw her on the bed. Prove he can.

He still hasn't learned to touch her in a way that doesn't feel like pawing.

He only hears the clock ticking again after, when he's squashed up against the wall trying not to roll over and onto her, crush her, catching his breath again. His whole body is buzzing like he can feel every single atom in him vibrating, reminding him he's big and strong now and it's too late to learn gentleness. Beyond Clarke's shoulder, he can see her bedside table: her alarm clock, a small notebook that might be her diary, a box of tissues that almost fell to the floor while they were fucking. Past that, the slatted door of her closet, the photograph of the Eiffel Tower like she's taunting him with all the places she'll someday go.

"Bellamy," she murmurs, his own name almost a question, maybe a sigh. He repositions himself so that his arm's around her and her head is on his chest. This is a position he could stay in too long if he's not careful, a warmth and comfort to it, to her weight on him, that's tempting as sin.

This is the worst time to be thinking about it. But he's thinking about it. Her window's still open and the high, rising buzz of the insects seeps in, and he can't stop turning over and over in his mind what else he's brought in with him, can't stop wondering if she sees him this way too.

Can't stop wondering what she's thinking, as he glances down, entranced by the heavy rise and fall of her chest.

"Tell me a story or something," she says.

He tries to laugh, only a huff. "Don't get too comfortable listening. I need to leave soon."

"Yeah, but not yet." She pokes him in the side, and he squirms away on instinct, then smiles because he really feels warm in this moment. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "Come on. A story where the good guys kick some ass. Defeat some monsters for me, Bellamy."

Defeat those monsters.

He takes a deep breath in, gathering up his thoughts, letting the story come to him.

Kill those monsters dead, he thinks, or die trying.

#the year 2023 #2023: free write #mine #my writing #july break bingo #make a lot of money #the 100 #bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #i think you can tell how rusty I am from the first couple paras but i do find a groove later

[baby-girl-aaron-dessner]

Palestinian poet, Refaat Alareer

#Refaat was killed in an Israeli airstrike on 7 December 2023 #rest in power Refaat Alareer #rip #Refaat Alareer #if i must die #let it be a tale. #palestinian art #it’s so strange to continue life while a genocide is happening right before our eyes #free palestine #palestinian genocide #think of others #free gaza #palestine #poetry #palestinian poetry #writers and poets #poem #poems #writing #prose #stand with gaza #gazaunderattack #gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #pray for gaza #israel #palestinians #poems and quotes #poetic

[sainzinnorris]

okay now that i have the information, this is a CarLando recap of Singapore gp 2023:

1. lando slapping carlos's ass and carlos's response was “ that was hard” , followed by a blush and momentarily losing track of whatever he was saying.

2. p1 and p3 in quali and cue to lando pinching carlos's boobie to lando brushing his hips against carlos's and cue to carlos following him like he's mezmerized.

3. lando replying “ vamos" under carlos's twitter post and “ CARLOOOOOOOS” under his instagram post. (we all think he's whining for carlos but alright-)

4. the carlando hug. it's beautiful. it's mezmerizing. I've seen it too many times. it's poetic.

5. the podium interviews before the celebrations with carlos and lando mentioning each other more often than they're breathing, the cooldown room where they're just “ ai , ai , ai " and “ oh- oh- oh" (sounded like their foreplay without context). lewis just walks in at the last moment without any background context and the sky commentators went like “ alright, if this is how the reporting for the race happens, we'd want this informative reporting every race weekend ;)) ” [ also cue to them recreating the “ ai ” and “ oh ” ]

6. the carlando podium. that spraying technique from lando onto carlos's mouth and carlos sticking his tongue out like that. and the way carlos's practically chugs champagne onto lando's mouth (for second one reference: check the video where fred is drowning carlos in champagne, it's for a very split moment , but you can see it )

7. the post race press conference with carlando in their married domestic bubble + third wheel lewis. also cue to CarLando sitting together far away from lewis and carlos showing lando something which causes them to smile and get giddy over idk, and carlos following lando quickly in the most babygirl way ever. 🏃🏾‍♀️

8. carlos's instagram selfie post dedicated to CarLando solely + an insta story of the same post, an insta story solely dedicated to an hd aesthetic picture of their hug, cue to lando resharing the selfie post on his own story with “ #CALANDO” as well as resharing the hug™ on his story, and posting the CarLando selfie on his p2 celebration post. a joint instagram post. 😏

9. to mclaren and ferrari admin celebrating carlos and lando. [ mclaren commenting “ vamos” and scuderia ferrari commenting “ good job lando :) ” ]

10. carlos and lando being congratulated by the mclaren and ferrari mechanics.

11. the post race interview again where carlos suggested lando and him should go out for drinks tonight and smiles whenever he mentions CarLando and tone implications of suggesting he knows CarLando works exist.

12. carlos's radio message of “ gap to lando every lap" and carlos intentionally slowing down just enough to keep lando within drs range , lando understanding the signal. when told by his race engineer about the gap (0.8) carlos goes like “ it's on purpose ”. the amount of precision, trust, teamwork and respect. freaking insane.

#in this essay i will #stella rambles #i hope i covered anything #if i did leave anything out let me know so i can make changes #and carlando fic writers...feel free to use this as a guide if you're writing fics off these moments #carlando lore #carlando #carlos sainz jr #lando norris #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #singapore gp 2023 #stella's textposts

[esuemmanuel]

The Man Of Solitude: Free Verse.

Because you, comrade writers and readers, asked me to do so and I, with all the pleasure, honor and gratitude I feel, have done so.

Here is the English edition of my book: "The Man Of Solitude: Free Verse".

I hope your souls will be as moved and comforted by reading it as mine was by translating it into the English language.

Be blessed.

Your friend and trusted servant…

Esu Emmanuel G. Author, Writer and Poet.

#esuemmanuelg #el hombre de la soledad #escribiendo en soledad #escritores en tumblr #the man of solitude #writing in solitude #poetas en tumblr #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #pensamientos #poeticstories #2023 #the man of solitude: free verse amazon book #amazon.com #english edition

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 6: Made to watch, “It should have been me”

This took way too long to finish and didn’t even end up the way I wanted to in the end exactly but it’s fine! It’s fine!!!

*cries*

Warnings: blood & injury, being electrocuted, slight torture-y elements.

Read it on ao3

————————————————————

“Link. Hey, Rancher, wake up.”

The serious tone of voice dragged Twilight from his comfortable sleep, making him blearily open his eyes. He found that his head was under the thicker blankets the inn had provided for their beds, and he reluctantly poked his head out, frowning at the cold that met him.

Warriors looked down at him, arms crossed and face unreadable, and Twilight blinked at him, still waking up.

“What’dya want?” he mumbled, squinting at the window. All he could see was dark grey. “...Wars, what time is it?”

“Early, I don’t know. About dawn I guess,” Warriors shrugged, and unceremoniously pulled Twilight’s blankets off. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“What?!” Twilight sputtered, and grabbed for his blankets. “Give me those! It’s freezing in here!”

“I know right? It’s awful. These people have no clue how to keep an inn warm, I mean it’s snowing outside.”

“Captain,” Twilight growled, seriously annoyed now. He’d been having a rather nice dream about a warm, sunny field with goats in it, up until Warriors had decided to drag him awake. “Why are you up so early, and why are you waking me up so early?”

A smile twitched at Warriors’ lips. “Why Rancher, I thought you country folk were used to waking up at the crack of dawn.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate sleeping in on a freezing morning when we’re at an inn for once,” Twilight bit out, snatching back his blankets and wrapping himself in them. “What do you want.”

“Sheesh, you’re cranky this early,” Warriors said with an eye roll. “Anyway... do you remember what we were talking about last night after dinner?”

Twilight stared at Warriors, and pulled his blankets back over his head.

“Rancher come on, hear me out!”

The blankets were peeled back again, and Twilight looked up at Warriors’ face, only barely apologetic. The captain gave him a grin, and Twilight groaned, sitting back up with no small reluctance.

He was wide awake now, he supposed he might as well hear what the captain had to say.

“Fine. What.”

Warriors cleared his throat, looking excited. “Okay okay, so last night Wild and Wind wouldn’t shut up about how similar they think we look, right?”

Twilight nodded, frowning a bit.

The night before, after they’d all eaten dinner and were sitting around talking, Wind had asked the others if they’d ever noticed how similar Twilight and the captain looked. Wild had immediately agreed, a grin on his face, and the others had quickly hopped on board as well, loudly debating their similar features.

Some of the arguments had been valid, and Four had put together a surprisingly long list of resemblances between Twilight and Warriors that Twilight was inclined to believe, but several of them were just ridiculous. Even when Twilight voiced this, he was immediately shot down, and Wild and Wind wouldn’t let the matter drop, repeatedly bringing it up until Twilight and Warriors couldn’t stand it anymore and went off to bed.

“What does that have to do with dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn?” Twilight asked, and Warriors grinned, holding up two green tunics.

“It’s so we have lots of time to prepare. I think we should show them just how similar we really are.“

Twilight sat up a bit straighter, paying more attention now as he looked between his and Warriors’ tunics.

“Oh?”

“Let’s switch clothes. Just for the day. We’ll give them a shock,” Warriors grinned, and Twilight found himself grinning as well, picturing the looks on Wild and Wind’s faces. “Maybe get them to knock it off with the twin jabs too. What do you say?”

Twilight reached out and took Warriors’ tunic, and gave the captain a smirk.

“Show me how you usually pin your scarf.”

(...)

Wild and Wind’s reactions were, to say the least, exactly what Twilight had hoped they would be.

Warriors and Twilight had quickly dressed, then stationed themselves so they weren’t facing the stairs, their differences harder to notice from the back. Wind had come down to breakfast soon after, yawning into his hand, and had tugged Warriors’ scarf to ask him when they were going to leave.

Except Warriors had been Twilight, and Wind nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked up and realized who it was he was actually talking to.

Wild had had a similar reaction, though it had taken him a bit. He was most of the way through breakfast before he’d suddenly jumped up and pointed between the two, face so gobsmacked that Twilight nearly choked he was laughing so hard.

After the chaos had died down and they’d finally finished breakfast, they’d headed out from the inn, a light flurry of snow falling on their heads. Warriors and Twilight stayed in the wrong clothes as they traveled through the snowy forest, responding to the wrong names and just generally confusing the others.

It was driving Wild crazy, and Twilight was loving every second of it.

A few small flakes fell on his head, and Twilight shivered a bit as the wind blew at his face. The weather was even colder outside the inn, and the Links had all bundled up in their thick clothing, Wind and Four looking especially chilly. Twilight actually wasn’t bothered too much by the cold, especially with Warriors’ scarf wrapped warmly around his neck, and he noticed with a smirk that Warriors himself looked quite content in his wolf pelt.

“You know, you smell like a wet dog, Captain,” Legend mentioned offhandedly. “Look a bit like one too. You’re giving Wolfie a run for his money.”

Warriors shot him a look from under the hood of Twilight’s pelt, and Legend smiled innocently.

“Well perhaps so, but I’m much warmer than you are,” he pointed out, and Legend’s smirk fell a bit.

“Well at least I’m not swimming in clothes made for someone twice as muscled as me.”

The two continued to exchange jabs, and Twilight shook his head in exasperation. Warriors may have been wearing Twilight’s clothes, but it didn’t change his personality a bit.

“You look nice in the captain’s scarf Twi,” Four said at his side, his own hood up to block the snow. “The colors set off your eyes.”

Twilight chuckled. “If you say so. It is rather soft,” he admitted, holding up a bit of the rich, blue fabric. “It definitely does the job, but I don’t know how he handles this thing in warmer weather.”

“I could ask the same of you,” Warriors said back, and Twilight shrugged. “All this fur must be awful if you’re ever anywhere warm.”

“Oh I manage.”

The conversation stopped for a bit, and Twilight looked around at the road they were following, noticing with some concern how high a couple of the drifts of snow were. If the snow had blown across the path like that anywhere, some of their shorter members were going to struggle.

“Think I’m going to scout ahead a little,” Twilight said, tapping Time on the shoulder. “I’ll see if I can make it to that bridge the villagers were talking about, see how much snow we’re dealing with.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Time replied. Then his face twitched into a smirk. “Don’t trip on your scarf.”

Twilight snorted and shook his head, already walking away.

“Hey, I’ll come with you,” Warriors offered as he jogged up to join his side, and Twilight looked at him in surprise. But he nodded and made room so they could walk side by side.

“You didn’t have to come you know Captain. Not that I mind, but just because we swapped clothes doesn’t mean we have to be together the whole day,” Twilight mentioned once they were out of earshot of the others, and Warriors shrugged, looking around at the woods.

“Eh, I wanted to. Besides, I was getting real sick of Legend calling us the ‘wolf twins’.”

Twilight barked out a laugh, and he and the captain continued ahead through the snowy woods, silent and cold.

They were quiet for a while as they outpaced the group, the snow falling softly around them. Twilight had no clue who’s time they were in, but wherever they were, the forest was beautiful, covered in snow and ice, flakes falling silently around them.

Twilight felt almost like he was in a storybook walking through the picturesque woods, and the unfamiliar clothes he was wearing only added to the almost otherworldly sense. It was odd having a scarf around his neck, but he didn’t mind the way it flared out behind him when he walked. It was sort of fun.

Twilight looked over at Warriors, keeping pace next to him, and studied him a minute. He had to admit to himself that Wild was right, at least a bit. With the pelt’s hood up covering his lighter hair, Warriors really did look almost exactly like Twilight.

“What’s that look for?” Warriors asked, and Twilight blinked, realizing he’d been staring.

“I was just thinking,” he admitted, and looked Warriors up and down. “I hate to admit it, but the others are kind of right. We really do look similar.”

“Yeah, I know,” Warriors said, and his eyes took on a distant look. “...Did you know there’s a statue of you in my time?”

Twilight startled. “What?”

“Well, there’s ones of a bunch of us actually,” Warriors reprimanded, and met his eyes. “Even Wolfie. We didn’t realize just how many there were until we were clearing out the Temple of Souls after the war. We were making sure there wasn’t any leftover dark magic or monsters, but we mostly just found statues, and... paintings.”

Warriors shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyway, I originally thought the one of you was me. We were so similar-looking, especially at the time with the hats and everything, it took a while until we figured out you were a separate hero entirely.”

“Well, that explains why you recognized most of us when we met,” Twilight said with a smirk, and Warriors chuckled.

“Yeah, I’ll admit I cheated. I don’t know if I saw one of everyone though, now that you mention it. I wonder—”

“Wait, shh,” Twilight said abruptly, holding a hand out.

Warriors went silent, and Twilight swiveled his ears around, the snow softly falling on their heads.

The woods had gone even more silent then before, no birds, no wind. Twilight knew he had heard something, but he wasn’t sure if it was just a twig snapping from the weight of the snow, or something more—

An earsplitting screech rang out through the woods, nearly sending Twilight and Warriors to their knees. Twilight’s heart stopped at the familiar sound, but before he could even grab his sword or raise his head, something crashed into him and threw him against a tree so hard he nearly blacked out.

He heard a shout through the ringing in his ears, and forced his eyes open, gasping at the sight of a Shadow Beast mere inches from his face.

No, no how is this possible it can’t— does this mean— the Twilight Realm—?!

Twilight struggled to grab his sword, but the Shadow Beast tightened its grip, and it held him so tightly against the tree Twilight was worried it would break something.

He looked frantically around for a way to get out, and saw that while Warriors wasn’t pinned like he was, he was completely surrounded. The captain was looking around at the shadow beasts with a worried look in his eyes, and he made frantic eye contact with Twilight. But before either of them could do or say anything, Twilight heard footsteps crunch through the snow nearby.

He looked up, and felt ice drop into his chest.

Zant stood in the center of the clearing, like a blot of spilled ink against the pristine snow. Twilight stared, praying that he was somehow mistaken, but as Zant strode forward, there was no doubt that it was the usurper himself.

He barely seemed to notice Twilight, giving him only a single glance, then stalked over to Warriors, standing just inside his army of shadow beasts.

“Hero of Twilight,” Zant said with a hint of glee in his voice. “It’s been so long, did you miss me?”

Warriors flicked his eyes over to Twilight, then back to Zant, a glimmer of confusion in his eyes. Zant was clearly referring to him, and Twilight stared at them both for a second before realizing what was happening.

Oh sweet Ordona, he thinks Warriors is me.

Warriors obviously realized what was going on as well, for he quickly smoothed his face of its confused look, casually pulling the hood further over his head. Twilight thrashed against the Shadow Beast, opening his mouth to shout, but one of its hands moved to cover it and his cry was cut off.

Warriors glanced at him again, then exhaled, and tightened his grip on his sword.

“That’s right Zant, that’s me,” he said steadily, even adding a bit of a twang to his voice that made him sound vaguely like Twilight. “The Hero of Twilight.”

Twilight thrashed even harder against the shadow beast holding him, but the monster didn’t budge, no matter what he did.

Wars you idiot it’s me he wants!

“Hmm... you’re scrawnier than I remember...” Zant hummed, leaning down to stare at Warriors’ face. “I suppose you haven’t been doing so well without your little shadow? So sad that she shattered the mirror the way she did.”

Twilight ignored the sting the words left in his heart.

“How have you returned?” Warriors demanded, never lowering his sword. “The last I heard, you were dead.”

“Ah, it was my new glorious god! The Creature of Shadows!” Zant crowed, twirling in place. “He has allowed me this return so I may have my revenge on those who have wronged me, in exchange only for his allegiance!”

Zant abruptly stilled, voice dropping into the tone he used when he sounded more sane.

“And you, Hero of Twilight, are the first on my list.”

Warriors barely had time to leap away as Zant drew twin swords and jumped at him, avoiding his attacks and striking back as best as he could.

Twilight clawed at the Shadow Beast holding him, desperate to help the captain, but it only struck him across the face, and retightened its grip. Pain exploded across Twilight’s face, but he ignored the sharp pain in his nose, watching Warriors fight with an increasing panic.

He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even call out advice or encouragement with the Shadow beast covering his mouth, just sit here and watch, with his nose throbbing and blood trickling down his face.

When he was the one who should have been fighting in the first place.

Warriors fought almost like he’d faced Zant before, neatly dodging his attacks and easily matching his swings. At any other moment Twilight would have admired his technique, but he was too worried. Zant’s speed was nearly impossible to keep up with, and Twilight could see Warriors was quickly tiring.

Right about when Twilight was growing truly panicked, Zant stepped back, pausing in his frantic attacks.

“This has been quite fun, but I’m afraid I didn’t come here to fight,” he said coolly, and his helmet shifted, revealing his mouth pulled up in a smile. Warriors paused as well, but kept his sword up, still ready and willing to fight.

“Then what do you want?” Warriors said breathlessly, and Zant’s smile twisted into a grin.

“To make you suffer.”

Two shadow beasts leaped at Warriors from behind, catching him off guard and throwing him to the ground. They pinned his arms and legs in a similar manner to Twilight in mere seconds, and Warriors’ sword went flying, Twilight letting out a muffled shout.

Zant stalked forward, his weapons skimming the snow on the ground.

“I should have killed you back at the Spirit’s Spring long ago, but now I’m almost glad I didn’t. I think I prefer to draw it out,” Zant said in a voice filled with glee as he stood above Warriors. “I’ve waited to repay you for stealing my rightful throne for a long time, Hero.”

“Rightful throne? It was never your throne to begin with,” Warriors scoffed, and gritted his teeth as Zant pressed the tip of his sword to his cheek.

“It should have been!” Zant hissed, and dragged the sword across Warriors’ face, leaving a bloody line in its trail. “I am the Twilight Realm’s rightful king! It is my throne, and I am it’s ruler!”

“I’ve met the true ruler of the Twilight Realm,” Warriors gritted out, and Twilight’s brain stalled for a second. What? “and you’re not her.”

“I am the rightful ruler!” Zant shouted, and dug the tip of his sword into Warriors’ shoulder, pulling a gasp from his lips. “Say it!”

Warriors glared. “Midna is—”

“DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME!” Zant shrieked, and lit his swords up with a dark, crackling magic.

Warriors’ eyes went wide and Twilight let out another muffled shout, but the two of them could only watch as Zant stabbed the blades downward into Warriors’ arms.

Lightning ripped across Warriors’ body, and he screamed, his back arching with electricity.

Twilight had never heard him make a noise like that.

He kicked out madly against the shadow beast holding him, but its grip never budged, and he couldn’t do a thing as Zant slowly removed his swords, leaving Warriors to gasp for breath, twitching slightly in the snow.

Tell him you’re not the one he wants, Twilight mentally begged, watching in horror as Zant repeated the action, making Warriors scream again. Tell him you’re not the Hero of Twilight, Captain!

“I am the Twilight Realm’s king,” Zant practically hissed as he yanked his swords out of Warriors again, leaving him shaking and bloodied on the ground. He thrust a blade under Warriors’ chin, lifting it so he was forced to meet his eyes. “And you and that imp are nothing but insignificant worms under my feet.”

“I... th-think she’d say the opposite,” Warriors rasped.

Zant howled in outrage and lunged forward, but it was then that Twilight finally managed to bite the Shadow Beast’s hand with enough force that it removed it from his mouth.

“I’m the Hero of Twilight!” he screamed, and Zant froze, turning slowly towards him. “I’m who you want Zant, leave— leave him alone,” his finished thickly.

Zant didn’t move for a second, staring at Twilight in silence. Then he turned back to Warriors, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him up so they were practically nose-to-nose.

The hood of the wolf pelt fell back, fully revealing Warriors’ bright blond hair, and marking-less face.

“A fake!” Zant roared in outrage, and threw Warriors to the ground, the captain still twitching with electricity.

He turned towards Twilight, practically shaking with fury.

“You,” he spat, small crackles of energy leaking from his sleeves as he approached. “You. Hero of Twilight. How dare you—”

A golden arrow flew across the clearing, and buried itself right into Zant’s shoulder.

Light burst outward and Zant let out a primal scream, clutching at his arm. More arrows followed, and Twilight heard the Shadow Beasts cry out as well, but he couldn’t see very well due to the sudden increase of light. The monster holding him let go, and Twilight didn’t stick around, catching a glimpse of armor and knowing the others would deal with the monsters.

He made a beeline for Warriors, stumbling a little as he ran. His head still hurt where the shadow beast had slammed him into the tree, his nose was bleeding all over his face, and his whole body was sore, but he wasn’t planning on stopping.

“Captain, are you with me?” he asked as he slid to his knees, and Warriors blearily looked up at him, eyes bright with pain. “Warriors, can you hear me?”

“You... you got a little...” Warriors croaked, reaching up like he was going to wipe the blood off of Twilight’s face, and the rancher waved him off, hands fluttering over the captain’s bleeding body. He was still twitching occasionally, blood soaking his clothes, and the cut across his cheek was bleeding steadily, dripping blood into Twilight’s pelt.

“By the gods Captain, you’re an absolute idiot,” Twilight said with a surge of guilt and horror, putting pressure on what looked like the worst injuries. “You should’ve just told him who I was, why didn’t you?!”

“He wanted... you. Better this way,” Warriors breathed, and gave Twilight a bloody smile. “I am... sorry I... I wrecked your tunic.”

Twilight glared at him, then untangled the scarf from around his own neck. “Permission to get your scarf bloody?”

“‘S only fair,” Warriors chuckled weakly, and Twilight bundled it over him, stemming the flow of blood.

Warriors let out a cough, a twitch running through him again, and Twilight helped him sit up when he tried to himself, the captain leaning heavily on his shoulder. He moved his head so it was resting more easy, and looked at the blood on the captain’s cheek, guilt still laying heavy in his chest.

It should have been me.

“...Rancher?”

Twilight looked over at Warriors again, wincing at a screech that rang out much too close by.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t regret it,” Warriors said firmly, shivering with another tremor. “Not... not at all. Don’t be... guilty.”

Twilight looked away. “Well what am I supposed to do then?”

Warriors gave him another bloody smirk.

“Y-you could say thank you.”

Twilight felt a smile twitch onto his face against his will, and he snorted out a laugh through his still-bleeding nose, lightly bonking his head against Warriors’.

“Fine. Thanks.”

Then he turned and looked Warriors directly in the eye, pushing aside the still heavy guilt in his chest.

“And once you get a red potion in you, I want to know how on earth you know Midna and Zant.”

Warriors smiled as a triumphant cry came from the battle around them.

“Sure thing.”

#this is all over the place but if I mess with it anymore I WILL go insane #so here: be free little fic #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu warriors #linked universe fanfic #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #day 6 #it should have been me #made to watch #writing from the floor #Zant is hard to write and I discovered this the hard way #he’s crazy and scary and childish and weird and I don’t think I found that balance #gahhhh whatever #not happy with this

[bakageta]

Next part of the untitled blue beetle fic! Nothing super body horror-y in this one, just build up. Khaji is getting ideas in its little scarab head, tho.

Jaime didn’t start having nightmares until he and his family moved back into their rebuilt home.

The first night, Jaime woke up gasping, tears in his eyes. Khaji burned under his skin. The scarab was frantically processing their surroundings, searching for any reason for its host’s distress. Jaime took huge, bellowing breaths, loud enough that he was worried that he might have woken up his family.

But the house had been rebuilt stronger and sturdier than any landlord would have bothered. No one woke. Jaime calmed on his own. He didn’t want to try going back to sleep.

Scarab still buzzing in his veins, Jaime headed to the kitchen. In law school he'd picked up a habit of making and drinking chamomile tea. The motions and steps were as soothing as the tea itself, and the neighbors had given them baked goods to go along with the dinners. He sat at his spot at the dinner table, nibbling at a cookie while he waited for his tea to cool.

"S'okay, Khaji. It was just a nightmare."

You were frightened.

"Yeah." He reached across his chest with his empty hand to touch the scarab’s leg where it was embedded around his shoulder. The new strap of tendon flexed under his hand. Jaime liked to think it was Khaji reacting to his attempt at reassurance, but he wasn’t entirely sure. It was the intent that mattered, he thought.

This did not happen at the hotel.

"Nothing bad happened at the hotel." Reflexively, Jaime rubbed at the front of his neck. He shuddered and sipped at his tea. It was still too hot

We should return to the hotel.

Jaime laughed softly. "We can't, s'too expensive. And besides, Jenny already got us our house."

Jenny can pay for the hotel, as well.

Khaji was fixated on the hotel. Jaime frowned lightly, running back over their conversation. "The hotel isn't my home, Khaji. What's wrong?"

I do not want you to be afraid, relocating is the least energy–

"It's not an option,"He spoke over Khaji’s last few words. Jaime swallowed, immediately regretting the sharp tone. "It's just, I'm gonna be scared. A lot of bad shit happened, right?"

Correct.

Jaime huffed a quick, quiet laugh. "Exactly, I just need time. It's like– like when you picked me, yeah? I was terrified at first, but then we talked, got to know each other, built trust. So I stopped being scared."

Additional information helps.

"Yeah." He smiled. It felt like they were finally getting somewhere, and–he sipped–his tea was cooled enough to–

"Ohmigod, Jaime!?"

They flinched, violently, at Milagro’s shout, nearly falling out of the chair. Jaime hadn’t heard her coming and Khaji had stopped tracking her as a potential threat after the bunker.

“Milla, what the hell!?” Jaime spun to face his sister after he steadied himself. He was just in time to watch her flick on the lights.

Milagro gave Jaime a moment to squint in the sudden brightness before she shoved her phone, in selfie mode, into his face. “Your eyes are fuckin’ glowing, Jaime!”

On the little screen, Jaime’s eyes glowed luminous orange just like they did in the armor. His eyelids were rimmed in gray-black. He grabbed his sister’s phone– “Hey!” –and held it up to his face. Concentric rings and radial lines traced around and out from back lit irises, they shifted and focused like a camera lens, and as he looked, Jaime saw that there was something like a snake's scale over his eyes.

He blinked a few times, over the scales or lenses or whatever, and they dissolved just like the armor did. Weird.

"Did you not notice?" Milagro asked incredulously.

"Nope." Jaime looked up and down, left and right. Everything seemed fine.

"Weird," she observed, just as sagely as Jaime had thought it. "Anyway, I'm glad you're just talking to Khaji instead of being, like, the world's loneliest burglar or something."

"Crap, did we wake you up?"

"Nah, I just had to pee," Milagro lied, breaking eye contact.

"Suuuure." Jaime ate the last piece of his cookie in one mouthful and did his best not to inhale any crumbs from the too big bite.

“Yeah, what about you? You got the munchies?”

Jaime’s face fell. “Couldn’t sleep. It’s hard being back, y’know?”

“Mm-hm,” Milagro agreed. “Roof?”

“Yeah.”

They spent the next hour and a half on the roof in comfortable quiet before retreating to their respective bedrooms. Khaji was silent the whole time, ticking and processing in the back of Jaime’s head.

#blue beetle #jaime reyes #khaji da #my writing #blue beetle 2023 #feel free to give me ideas! #operation pimp my ride

[dameferre]

Darling You Will Bury Me (Before I Bury You)

“Your most exalted highness, it is an honour to be able to represent my nation and family by serving a son of the Water Tribe chiefdom. I hope to prove myself equal to the task, and worthy of the trust this great, distinguished nation has placed in me.”

Zuko bows again, lower this time, clearly subservient. It’s like the weight of the moment is physically bearing down on his shoulders; Zuko, the son of a genocidal tyrant, bowing to a man from a race his father tried to annihilate. A prince of the Fire Nation willingly submitting, volunteering to devote his life to the protection of a future chief of the Water Tribes. This is the kind of moment that echoes throughout history.

“…dude.” Sokka’s eyebrow, if possible, jumps higher. “Anyone ever tell you you come on a little strong?”

After an attempt on the future chief’s life by those who oppose the unification of the Water Tribes, it is decided that he, as a non-bender, requires a bodyguard to ensure his safety. A young prince of the Fire Nation is granted the privilege and honour of the task.

Zuko, after about a day and a half spent with Sokka, privately thinks it’s a fucking miracle no one’s tried to murder him before.

#zukka week 2023 #zw23 #zukka #elle writes things #y’all i have no writing time or free time whatsoever but i keep my fucking promises so. #tosses some bodyguard au at your feet and sprints away #this one’s also for ash who was so nice abt this au and inspired me to get my shit together #which is the only reason i’d already written enough of this to easily post a chapter of it this week

[dailynakaharachuuya]

(Here's a list of ideas and aus I made to [somewhat] follow! You can follow it too if you wish but no pressure!)

#note #inktober 2023 #(I will.. try my best) #(sorry if some of them suck it is very hard to come up with 31 ideas) #(just thinking about what aus Id like to see haha) #(feel free to credit me or not I dont mind haha I like to see other peoples stuff art or writing) #(lmk if some of them need more explanation but tbh interpret it however you want) #(sorry for posting this so late)

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 26: Murphy, Raven, Octavia, Only One Bed

Hmmm, wrote a little thing. I may or may not continue later.

For the prompt 'snowed in + only one bed'

Murphy, Raven, Octavia (Murphy & Raven, Raven/Octavia, possible future poly situation?), 650 words, ~18 minutes

*

If his life were another genre, perhaps one defined by three Xs, this would be an excellent situation: snowed out of the airport and put up in some mid-range hotel, in a single room with only one bed, and two beautiful women as roommates.

But Murphy's life is just his life, and the girls are as grumpy, exhausted, and gross as he is. So when they all crowd through the doorway at once and drop their bags on the floor, and catch sight of the bed situation, it's pathetic groans all around.

Sadly, this is the farthest from horny that he has ever been.

Murphy kicks his duffel bag toward the TV. "I guess I'll be sleeping on the floor," he says, and damn that part of him that almost makes it sound like a question.

Octavia doesn't answer. She's parked her rolling suitcase next to the window and is heading straight toward the bathroom. The door slams shut behind her, and immediately after, he hears the whine of a faucet and then the rush of water filling a tub. Raven is setting her backpack down on the dully upholstered beige chair, and as she unzips it and starts rifling through it, she shoots back over her shoulder, "Don't be dumb."

Murphy's already forgotten what they were talking about. He sinks down onto the end of the mattress and stares at his reflection in the shiny black screen of the TV. He looks like someone has just beaten him up: not bruised or bloody but just hang-dog world-weary. Two hours stuck in traffic at the bridge, thought they'd missed their flight, found it three hours delayed, then delayed again, then abruptly canceled—then they spent another hour calling their respective family members and several different airline help desks, trying to secure alternate transport. Nothing. So they gathered up their bags and ended up here.

Outside, the view is nothing but a whitewash of snow, flurries over flurries against a colorless sky, and the threat of an early sunset bringing on a new shade of deepening gray.

"What am I being dumb about?" he asks.

"The bed," Raven answers.

The sound from behind the bathroom door is that of a shower, now. So at least he has some hope that Little Blake isn't planning on monopolizing the bathroom for the entire rest of the night.

"I mean it's a king," Raven's saying. "You sleep on one side, Octavia and I will take the other."

She unzips her jacket, slips out of it and drapes it across the chair instead. Snowflakes are melting on the shoulders of it, are melting in her hair, too, so that when she takes down her ponytail, the dark waves fall across her shoulders with a slight dampness about them, as if she'd just stepped out of a shower herself. Her cheeks are flushed, too. His own skin feels uncomfortably warm.

"You know I roll around a lot in my sleep," he warns.

Raven considers. She crosses her arms against her chest, and he catches sight of her playing with her hair tie, stretching it between her fingers idly. "Then I'll sleep in the middle," she says. "You roll, Octavia kicks—"

"And you snore, I bet."

Raven snorts. But she doesn't seem to take offense. "I was going to say I'll be the buffer."

Murphy takes another look around the room: the inoffensive painting of flowers, the dark beige carpet at his feet, the little table by the window, with the hotel stationary on it, and the stiff red curtains framing the winter storm outside. All planes grounded. Nothing in or out all night.

"I guess this isn't exactly the romantic night you were expecting," he says, and he sounds a little sorry about it, even to his own ears.

Raven shrugs. "Actually I was expecting to sleep on the plane. So I guess this is technically a step up."

#the 100 #raven reyes #john murphy #octavia blake #very minimally though #raven x octavia #murphy x raven #mine #my writing #the year 2023 #2023: free write #trying so hard to avoid talking about myself #which i guess is good motivation for writing practice! #i wrote a bit earlier today and finished ch4 of the time loop so progress *is* being made

[layla-carstairs]

I feel like one thing we can take away from this kickstarter is that Cassandra Clare will never be done with the Shadowhunters universe. like literally all these new short stories come from the fact she took a six month "break" from writing shadowhunters lmao

#I do think she might move away from larger series announced years ahead of time #because I think the expectations she created for tlh was something she struggled with #like it was announced nearly a decade before it was published that's insane!! midnight heir came out in 2013 and chain of thorns in 2023!! #but I don't think we'll ever be free from her just randomly writing new books and releasing them #the eldest curses. secrets of blackthorn hall. seasons of shadowhunters. #all three short story collections #like I'm sure in a couple years there will be something new she wrote for funnies #although I imagine she'll write non shadowhunter stuff too (like sword catcher) #bella talks #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #cassandra clare

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Day 9

Deity

*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.

The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.

In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.

And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.

It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.

A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’

You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”

The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’

You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”

To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.

Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.

You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.

“Join me? We can make a duet.”

You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’

“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”

‘It would be my honor to learn.’

You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.

You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.

When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.

(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)

#linked universe x reader #fierce deity x reader #is this after Majora? #Is Fierce Deity really there or just manifesting due to being fond of Reader and living in their head rent free? #Is Hylia jealous because she couldn't stake a claim first? #Did he create Satori in this? #That's for future Summer to know and y'all to find out lol. Though this does reference the theory he's the one who sealed Majora #The divinity of Hyrule changes people the closer they are to it #Fierce Deity is both a warrior/demon god and the hopes and dreams of the people of Termina and that duality is fascinating in this essay- #Really I believe that Fierce Deity doesn't mean to harm his users or people who aren't enemies #But the Eldritch Vibes ™ are so much even when he's toning it down it's a slippery slope #Good thing Reader is a divinity magnet just from proximity to the Chain and can put it aside #Plus Time putting on the mask as either Sprite/Mask change the FD as much as he changed him and same for First and Hylia #summer writes linktober 2023 #summer writes #maybe I'll add more tags or elaborate later idk I need a nap and to work on the other prompts

[quantumshade]

insane to me that there are people (real human adults) who think there’s a “ninerose fandom” and a “tenrose fandom” and a “tentoorose fandom”. um i just think the doctor and rose love each other in every universe and under every circumstance. rip to everyone else but i’m different

#dog they’re all the same #people be making posts like it’s morally wrong to write fanfiction where tentoo doesn’t exist or dies or something #girl why you doing shipwars… what decade is it #*shipwars over a relationship with different versions of the SAME GUY #the dr who fandom on twitter is insane lemme just say that #doctor who #doctorrose #rose tyler #ninerose #tenrose #tentoorose #if you’re not a whotual feel free to ignore this xx #posting cringe in 2022 for a good 2023 #delia.txt

[erinfern0]

as you wish; drabble.

john price x gn!reader

- gender neutral anatomy, gender neutral nicknames, only pronouns are you, etc.

warnings: free use, fingering, cowgirl, blowjob.

John is a very busy man, most of the time, not only when he's on deployment. When he's back, he also has lots of work, especially paperwork, to take care of. He knows how much you miss him as he misses you the same amount if not more. The problem is, that John takes his job very seriously and won't waste any time on procrastinating. Before he was in a relationship with you, this was not an issue. He would just come back, and spend as much of the time he needed to get his job done, but now he needs you. He needs your presence, even when he should be working.

You two quickly notice all he needs is you in the room, rambling about your day as he fills in all the reports and checks the stats he should take care of. as if he's addicted to you. Most of the time, though, you crave more than that. Being separated for such a long period of time, you crave his touch. His grunts, his groans, his hands, his love, and most importantly – his cock.

You were the one to suggest the arrangement. You've read about it online and felt ungodly, but excited to tell him about it. You were almost shocked when he listened to your reasoning and just complied. There was nothing he wanted more in his life than your pleasure, and if he could do it while fulfilling his work duties? That was heaven.

Taking his attention off of something as important as his job was a challenging thing to do. Especially since he could be pretty good at multitasking. Yeah, his mind and dominant hand will remain focused on the papers and his work, while the rest of his body is purely for you.

You need to be touched so bad, that doing it yourself doesn't help? His other hand will be focused on you entirely. You want to just straddle his hips and ride him, milk his cock with your velvety walls? He'll just nod his head, patting his thigh to invite you while his brows furrow in focus. It's automatic at this point. You can go for as long as you want, it's all about you and your pleasure. Over time, he learned to truly love the sweet sting of overstimulation when you cum all over him for the nth time in one sitting.

John's in bed, wearing just his pajama pants, reading his finished reports to make sure they're all correct? He won't even bother to look at you when you quickly slip them off of him, your hands and mouth already occupied with his hardening cock. You just need to taste him so bad. And he'll look at the files in his right hand while the left one lightly rests on the top of your head, just because he needs to touch you so bad. He doesn't even think about it, it just happens as soon as you pull his cock out to lick the mushroom tip with your flattened tongue, right over the slit. His thighs will tremble from the feeling, but he won't say a thing unless it's actually too much.

The only way you can take his mind off his work is when you don't make him cum. And you do it a lot. Teasingly licking stripes over his boxers, praising him for being so good for you just to go back to your previous task. He'll just gasp loudly and palm himself for a couple of seconds, reminding himself how good your touch felt.

He'll get frustrated, but never complain. However, he will use all that frustration, ruined orgasms, and desperation on you as soon as he's done filling out the documents. There's no escape then, he'll just drown you with his love, burly arms holding you close to him as he pounds you. Rough draws of his hips against yours as he reminds you that he belongs to you. As much as you belong to him.

masterlist | request info | kinktober 23

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober 23 #kinktober #john price #john price cod #call of duty modern warfare #fanfiction #cod mw2 #gender neutral reader #cod mwii #captain john price #john price x reader #smut #free use kink #riri writes

[duthea]

an AU that popped into my head

#long post #my art #pokemon legends arceus #my comics #daily drawings 2023 #unrelated to my main au #inspired by all the fics where dawn calls ingo uncle #what if she meant it literally #an au that can be either angsty or really funny #if anybody wants to write this it's free real estate! #idk why i decided i needed to draw this in a homestucky format but it seemed like the natural form of it #if emmet/johanna is an existing ship i'll tag it

[starrycassi]

Could you write Ambrosius and Nimona getting along while Ballister gets a well-rested nap?

Sure! I'm feeling a bit angsty, so, have this.

A golden wound.

Or the one where Nimona reluctantly decides to become something like friends with Ambrosius.

TW for slight, non-graphic mentions of self-destructive behavior and general relationship problems. Also, implied child neglect and abuse. And drinking but in a good way.

Putting a kingdom back together was hellish work.

Nimona had never, ever worked so much. She wasn't immune to exhaustion, but it had been a couple of years since she'd felt so tired. Her muscles ached, her breaths were uneven, her head was spinning. She had been at it all day — rubble and ruins had been her only companions for the day.

But, she was satisfied. The kingdom had done most of the work already, all while she slept and rested, so it was only fair to help the people now.

Ballister stumbled into the kitchen, and he looked as tired as Nimona felt. Ambrosius entered behind him, talking and gesturing at his boyfriend. Nimona got up to say hi, used to their stupid bickering, but she quickly noticed something different.

Ballister's arm, exactly in the part where flesh met metal, was dripping something, something that looked and smelled too much like blood to be considered anything else. Ambrosius's concerns seemed to be, for once, actually important.

"You need to get that checked, Bal!"

Nimona jumped over the couch, and her thighs ached, so she turned into a wolf, and now her back ached. She could only wonder how Ballister — mortal, soft Ballister— would be feeling. If she was worn out, he probably was in the verge of death.

"It's nothing, Ambrosius"

She turned into a cat, and jumped on the table. Ballister and Ambrosius didn't even glance her way, making her worry even more. They usually stopped their fights out of shame when she was near.

"You're bleeding. It is something, and it's something to be concerned about!"

Nimona recognized it before any of them did. She saw that spark, that surge of electricity. Fatigued lovers in a quarrel? A recipe for disaster. Ballister's eyes hardened, and he faced Ambrosius, snapping.

"I was bleeding when you mutilated me, wasn't I? Well, I survived that. I'll survive this. You didn't seem concerned back then, did you?"

Ouch.

Ambrosius's face contorted into a mix of every possible expression, and he looked ready to puke. Ballister went pale. Nimona froze.

Ballister never referred to it as "mutilation", even if it was. He never brought it up, neither did Ambrosius, and they seemed to be doing just fine that way, so, she stopped bringing it up. Clearly, that wasn't the case.

"That's not fair" Ambrosius muttered, but his eyes were too shiny, his voice too shaky.

Ballister seemed unable to come up with an answer, any answers, so he just turned around, and left. He picked that up from Nimona, probably. Run from your problems, until they catch up to you.

She ran behind him.

.

When they came back, it was dark. Ballister's arm had been healed by an actual medical professional; he was out of it, asleep on Nimona's hands, who didn't have a problem carrying their boss all the way back to his house.

She was even more tired, now. The place where Ballister had decided to live was on the outskirts of the city, one of the old Goldenloin houses, spacious and elegant.

They got in quietly, Ballister had given her a copy of the keys. He left his boss on the first room he came across, too drained to try and find Ballister's actual room. It was somewhere in the second floor, and she didn't feel like navigating the maze of halls.

She looked at the resting man, and smiled. Ballister needed to rest — even if it was on a drug-induced sleep, at least he was sleeping.

Life could be peaceful, sometimes.

Someone screamed in the kitchen. She suddenly remembered that Ambrosius did, in fact, exist. She turned into a cat, again, since it was the form that ached the less, and ran to the kitchen, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Sure, she wasn't fond of the blond, but his dead would definitely have a horrible impact on her boss's life.

He was pathetic. She'd seen people drink themselves to death countless times, but at least they looked like they were having a great time. Ambrosius was just sobbing uncontrollably, quietly, kneeling down, while he tried to pick up the pieces of a broken glass utensil. She chuckled to herself, relieved and amused. What would the kingdom think of their perfect little hero, now?

A hero that wasn't stopping. A hero that didn't manage to put the pieces together. A hero that didn't look at her when she called out to him. A hero that, at the sound of her voice, suddenly pressed the pieces together. A hero with bleeding hands.

Her brief relief left as soon as it came. Ambrosius wasn't reacting. She called out for him again, using his actual name this time. He started hyperventilating. She took a step forward, and his sobs turned into silent tears. The kitchen was full with the smell of burnt food.

"Goldenloin!" She demanded, changing back to her human form, confused. Ambrosius had never acted like this before. They didn't even like this idiot, but it felt wrong, to look at the weeping mess. Ambrosius should be a jackass, a self-absorbed moron; that's how they worked. He said something stupid and she laughed. They mocked each other. They fought over Ballister, they argued and ignored the other.

But she couldn't ignore this, could she? That was how they got into this mess. Ballister ignoring the situation. Ambrosius ignoring the past.

Ambrosius finally looked up, hie eyes bewildered and unfocused. He wasn't here. He was pale, sweaty. Nimona decided that, perhaps, this was too much to ignore. Jokes and harsh decisions wouldn't get them out of this one.

"Hey, man" she whispered, unsure of what to do or say, "It's me. Nimona. The boss is fine. Just... needs rest. That's it"

Ambrosius kept looking at her, his already slit eyes looking even smaller, puffy from all the crying. She moved forward, lifting a hand. He flinched, shrinking in on himself, closing his eyes.

Oh.

Something in their rib cage moved. She simply kneeled down too, slowly placing her hand on Ambrosius's shoulders. He kept on shaking.

"Dude. Your hands. Blood. Com'on. Let's get some bandages"

He didn't say anything. It was up to Nimona to get him to stand up, directing him around. She left him on the couch, running quickly for the first aid kit. He didn't move, just staring at her like she was some sort of puzzle.

She worked in silence, picking out what she needed, opening up the alcohol. It was a methodical thing she'd done a million times before, for Gloreth.

She chuckled, again. What would Gloreth think of her little descendant? Of how he trembled when someone raised a hand? Of his fear, and his love?

They stayed that way for enough time to get Ambrosius's wounds cleaned and patched up.

"Bal" he whispered, breaking the stillness of the room, "Ballister. He's fine?"

"Fine as can be" she answered back, shrugging, "Took him to the hospital"

They both looked at each other, uncomfortable.

"Thanks" Ambrosius mumbled, looking somewhere over Nimona's head, "For, well, everything"

He vaguely gestured at himself, and she smiled.

"That's my job, man. Take care of Ballister's business"

He inhaled at this, sharp and hurt. Tears gathered in his eyes, without falling.

"I don't plan on that staying way. I'm moving out. Bal and I... we should break up"

"Yeah, totally" Nimona blurted out, automatically.

Ambrosius sniggered at her answer, blinking too many times. Nimona blushed in embarrassment.

"No, I mean- I don't like you. But Ballister does. I think"

"After what he said today? I don't think so"

"I like to believe" said Nimona, remembering childish play and soft hugs, "that you can say mean things to people you love"

"You do it often?"

Ambrosius's tone was incriminating, condemning. She wanted to scream at him, tell him that not as often as he did, judging by the amount of mini fights Ballister and him had.

Then, she thought about his trembling frame, huddled over himself to search for comfort.

"No. It's done to me often, though" Her eyes burned, so, she tried to change the topic quickly, "what were you even doing in the kitchen? Never seen you there"

"Aside from having a heart attack?" He laughed bitterly, closing his eyes, "Trying to have some food ready for Ballister. Turns out, I have no idea on how to cook"

The awkward silence returned. Nimona started to drift away.

Ambrosius suddenly got up, and Nimona was too tired to go and search for him, again. He came back, balancing a bottle of wine and two glasses. The bandages got redder and redder by the second.

"You're immortal, right?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow. When Nimona nodded, he smirked, "That means you're above drinking age"

Nimona was, in fact, able to handle her alcohol. She'd been around for centuries, learning a couple of tricks over the years.

Ambrosius poured them both an acceptable amount, smiling even more. Then he took a swing, straight from the bottle, before setting down again.

"Even if he does love me" he explained, moving his hand in an arch, "I am, clearly, not the best suitor for your boss"

"I think he should get to decide that, truly"

Ambrosius lifted his eyebrows, amused. Nimona usually told him to leave Ballister alone five times per day.

"My mom had a lot of partners" he confessed, before swallowing the contents of his glass in a swift movement, "They all chose to be with her. She was shitty to most of them. Perhaps it's inherited"

Ah, yes. The Goldenloins and their very good communication skills.

"Your great-great-really-great-grandma was a shitty friend to have, too"

"That helps me feel so much better. Thank you very much"

"Hey, man. I'm not really interested in the whole 'helping' thing"

But her body still ached, Ballister was still asleep and Ambrosius was still here, downing glass after glass as if the wine would run away from him at any second.

"I guess Goldenloins are just fucked up people, uh? We ruin everything we touch"

Nimona shrugged, "I'm not gonna debate that. But, you know, maybe it's time for you to start fixing the stuff you break"

Ambrosius smiled, and this time he looked a little less like a dying man and more like a recovering one. He lifted up his almost empty glass, and they toasted to that.

The last thing Nimona heard before falling asleep was the start of a cooking tutorial on Ambrosius's phone.

#nimona fanfic #nimona movie #ballister nimona #goldenheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona #nimona (2023) #ambrosius nimona #I'm deeply sorry if this wasn't what u expected #I'm out of antidepressives because theyre PRICEY #so have this #feel free to request a fluffier version or continuation ig #Ballister and Ambrosius do make up because gay love is stronger than everything #It just takes a lot of effort and time #loved writing this #Nimona is inherently a helper FIGTH ME ON THIS #Her first act as a sidekick was to embelish the tower #She probably has acts of service as her love language

[sparkytheandroid]

ABOUT NEW 50% OFF CONTENT

Hey sorry to get your attention like that, kind of a scummy move but bare with me a few moments. I’m the other person who made 50% Off, Sparky the Android, I also voiced Haru and Rin and some other small things. People usually just call me PJ now cause I don’t really make content anymore. Speaking of content Alex, Octopimp, decided he was going to make some new 50% Off content this past week and I would just like to explain some things as to why this is a real legitimate slap in the face to me personally. I want to stress that I was not sexually abused, physically abused, or in any major danger in my long creative partnership with Alex, he was just a scumbag who acted like an asshole and treated me really poorly over the course of the show forcing me to eventually quit. I was willing to just walk away from this stuff. Close the door, yknow? Get some closure but Alex seems intent on opening it by posting new 50% off content without talking to me about it first in any capacity. I have not spoken to Alex in several years but I was and always have been an equal creative factor in 50% Off, so him releasing new content without me feels especially insulting.   Alex came to me ten years ago asking if I would be interested in making an abridged series at the time because I had a background writing comedy and went to school for film. This was under the pretense of an equal partnership. We’re both funny, I’m a good writer and a decent voice actor, Alex is a decent writer and a good voice actor. He bought me my first voice acting microphone and we set to work developing the show with me refining a lot of our ideas into actual scripts to read from. As the series progressed I started taking on the larger writing work and Alex the larger editing work. Episodes went from 4 minute goofs (the original concept) to more longform almost 20 minute episodes at a time where characters had their own throughlines and stories progressing. It was a large task for the two of us, especially the difficulty of editing for Alex specifically. I don’t want any of this to seem like I did all the work, or that I never fought with or insulted Alex because that’s far from my point. Both of us were supposed to be partners but Alex consistently treated the show as SOLELY his in increasing amounts. I had to ask him to stop saying things like “I sign your paychecks.” or to stop insulting me in videos when he would add in insults against me without talking to me about it first. I can take an insult! I wrote some content insults about Alex too! But I was always up front and he would slip his insults in, or little jokes that were not in my scripts, without ever talking to me about them I would see them in the video premiers. He consistently minimized my involvement, I had to argue with him to get my name on the end slate, I wrote the theme rap, I wrote 90% of the material, I wrote our dumb tshirt commercials, the show is unequivocally so much of MY VOICE and I was begging to get a little more limelight or recognition. Alex took guest appearances at cons without talking to me. We did a panel at anime expo where HE was the guest and when I asked him about a badge to get into the con he informed me that he was giving the other pass to his girlfriend at the time. And while he did end up purchasing me a new badge to try and make good, just the act of not thinking that that badge should have been mine was so insulting. When we went to funimation he consistently bore it down on me that i was LUCKY that he flew me out so we could go to Funimation even though he would not be going in the first place without my scripts and voice. He made content without talking to me. He kept me at arms length in an arrangement that was supposed to be equal and I never spoke about it publicly because even a small amount of internet fame warped my little idiot brain and I wanted to keep being famous and cool on the internet. 

I never saw our official earnings numbers or even had access to the channel and took it on blind faith that I was being fair. When I quit the show because it was seriously becoming a real detriment to my mental health I walked away from any earnings the show would make after. 

It sucked. It sucked because I wanted to make more of the show. I wanted to finish season one. I promised people I would. It sucked because for some of it I was having fun! I was going to voice actor parties and people were paying attention to me. Selfishly I thought I could right the ship and turn it into a real career but I know that was never really an option. And it sucked because Alex and I WERE friends. I did some of my best material with him. Times hanging out with him where he was a genuine person were great. And I tried so many things! I realized arguing with him wasn't working so I figured it must be my fault. I tried being more supportive of him, supporting his streams, cheering him on at game tournaments, etc. But he just kept using me and the people around him to further his career. I just couldn’t take it anymore and I took the only ownership I really could and I walked away. The show stopped and, I’m sorry to the people who loved it, I think it should have stayed stopped. Nagisa is a fuckin racist caricature, one I actively contributed too regardless of the actions I took to make Nagisa smarter, more artistic, less of a one note joke about drugs and crime. Hell his final speech about how he felt about fetishizing MLM content at the time was feelings I WAS HAVING as a person coming to real terms with their queer identity. Alex is not a queer person! I am! I gave that speech to Alex to perform. I gave him MY VOICE. But it's still a racist caricature rooted in the past that is my fault for perpetuating.  

And again I’m not an angel. I argued with Alex a lot and said a lot of mean things to his face. Some stuff I regret because I’ve spent the time after the show specifically not shoving myself down another pipeline of making online content. The attention makes me stupid and I act like a jerk! I made mistakes while doing 50% Off and I’m sure I’ve hurt people too. I’m sorry to anyone who crossed my path when I was hopped up on stupid internet fame. You met one of the worst versions of me and it was my own doing. I’m sorry to Alex even for some of the stuff I said. But Alex leveraged his position of power over me as an excuse to treat me like shit. I’m in a good place in my life and I just wanted to shut the door on all this but Alex is intent on opening it after all these years and STILL minimizing my contributions. Saying things like “I just don't have the time/resources to make full episodes anymore.” He can’t make full episodes anymore because he would have to replace my voice in them but more than that replace my entire writing style. I was willing to let him upload a short like w/e its 2023 like whatever right? Tell your joke dude I don’t care. Then he posted another acting like he was going to do even more new 50% Off stuff and a close friend spoke with him saying it wasn't a good idea and he agreed. Then he posted them on youtube! And is saying stuff like this to people in the comments.

Like implying that the only reason he can't continue to produce 50% Off in full is because he doesn’t have the energy or schedule. He can’t continue because it would be continuing without me and I know deep down he KNOWS he shouldn’t. I don’t want any fucking clout or want you to watch any of my content because I don’t MAKE any. I wasn't sexually assaulted or physically abused. Alex was just a huge dick to me and a lot of my friends and we all just let it slide for all of our own personal reasons. Hell I was content just walking away the way I did, making the split seem amicable so there wasn’t a bunch of drama, letting the show stay up, and still field questions for people curious about it. I took my gdrive with every script i ever wrote for the show and just closed the door. I’m just tired after all these years of this guy actively ignoring my involvement in the show that is partially responsible for his internet fame. Tired of him pulling this bullshit “uwu i would love to make more but i just can't!” attitude to lie about why he can't actually make more. Tired of him opening that fucking door. 

A few years ago Alex got in contact with me through a friend with an apology. At the time he sent it many streamers were facing backlash for how they treated people in the past, ones closer to Alex, so this seemed suspiciously timed. The apology I got sounded like every other apology Alex had given me over the years. A lot of avoiding his own culpability in his actions. I told him that if we were to resume being friends it would take a lot. I think anyone who makes the effort deserves the chance to be redeemed, but I had absolutely zero trust in him and thought it was unlikely that he really wanted to make an effort to be a real friend to me. After that we resumed not speaking and when people asked me about him I still tried to make our split seem at least somewhat amicable and I try to generally avoid projects he is involved in. 

Imagine my surprise when he walked out on that Jerma stream. 

I want to thank everybody who watched 50% Off honestly and truly. I think some of it still shines as some of my best work. I got to do a lot of cool things like have my voice in a real anime, and I met tons of people who cared about me and my role in the show specifically. Those people were like life preservers while I felt like I was sinking in Alex’s shadow. It’s undeniably cool to have people respond to your work so well and I know I wouldn't have seen that happen without Alex’s skills as an entertainer and producer. Alex has hurt me personally as a friend, as a business partner, and has hurt several of my other friends in various ways with his behavior. The way I felt on 50% Off became truly harmful to my mental state. I struggle personally with imposter syndrome and RSD and at the time of making the show I had gone through very little therapy to help me develop healthy coping mechanisms for those things. It was just like pouring gasoline into a fire. And I really wanted to put it all behind me for the sake of my own mental health and life because all things considered I’m happy where I am now. I’ve worked really hard on myself personally and have been so lucky to have emotionally intelligent friends help me and give me so many chances I should not have deserved. I’m fortunate to be able to support myself and my cat, and I get to make personal art I love without having to push myself into the internet game because if I’m being honest I had a bad addiction to social media. I apologize I don’t have a nice resolution for you, I’m not asking you to stop watching 50% Off, or watch anything I make, or hell even stop watching Alex’s personal content. I just felt like I had this intense pit in my stomach seeing him parade around in the other half of our two person horse costume and insist he’s wearing the whole thing. Yknow? After all these years I just wanted to say SOMETHING about the way I was really treated so I could finally get some closure for myself. Thank you for your time and again to all the people who DID support the show thank you sincerely. 

#also without my involvement alex is a white cishet man writing queer characters #one of which is a racist stereotype #in 2023 #like cmon #octopimp #50% off! #free! abridged