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whumping-to-conclusions · 3 years

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So I lost the ask where I received this prompt, but it was from @ironwhumper359. She had given multiple options, but I decided on 14 +28!

14. cottage, 28. poisoned blade

This is another installment in my whump fics centering around Pyotr, a Kvani man from the world of a Victorian-equivalent supernatural detective novel I'm working on. I'll be making a masterlist soon, but you can find my first Pyotr fic here.

Enjoy!

CW: Burn scar, fever, past whumper (assassin) reappearing, poison, restrained with ropes, gunshot, character death (from gunshot)

Pyotr stepped into the cottage, shaking off his rain-soaked coat and hanging it on a hook by the door. This should be a safe enough place to spend the night. Shining his oil lantern around the place, he saw that it was small, but blessedly dry. Large windows gave a view of the woods surrounding the house, darkened by the rainstorm, and a small cuckoo clock made a gentle tick-tock, tick-tock in the background. A wooden rocking chair sat in front of the hearth. It was draped in colorful quilts and, upon closer inspection, exquisitely carved with flowers and vines.

Stepping into the adjacent room, the golden ring of light from his lantern shone on a bed--a real bed!--piled with more quilts. Oil paintings hung on the walls, and white stone vases on the windowsills held dried flowers. This place would be the first real comfort he’d seen in weeks.

Glancing around the cottage, the place looked abandoned--the bedsheets were rumpled, but the fireplace in the main room was ashy and cold. Probably sometime in the past week, since not much dust had collected anywhere yet. The poor soul who owned this cottage must have gone off and died in the woods. Bear attack, maybe. Pyotr had heard there were bears in this part of the country.

One night here couldn’t hurt. He hadn’t seen Briar in weeks, since he’d given her that terrible burn back in the hotel. There wasn’t any way she would find him now, especially now that he was tucked away in the woods like this, right?

Pyotr strode over to the hearth and struck the flint and steel he kept in his pack, setting the ashy logs ablaze. As the flames crackled to life, he crouched and warmed his hands in front of the fire, feeling the molten heat glow on his rain-drenched skin. Gods above, that felt good. He straightened up, stripped down to his wool drawers, and curled up in the rocking chair, wrapping the quilt around his soaked, freezing body. He watched the flames for a while. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The cuckoo clock made a rhythmic, soporific beat in Pyotr’s ears. How warm it was here… how lovely it would be to rest….

A shadow passed in his periphery. Pyotr’s eyes snapped open and he slowly rose from the chair, letting the quilt fall onto the ground.

“Thought I couldn’t find you here, didn’t you?”

The rough burr of Briar’s voice still sent a chill of dread down Pyotr’s spine. He’d heard it in his dreams, every night since their first encounter.

“I told you I wouldn’t rest until you were dead. I’m not the kind to give up. I’m not the kind to flee, unlike a certain man that I know. Deserter.” She spat out the last word like a curse.

Pyotr didn’t dare move, even as he heard Briar step closer. “Kill me,” he rasped. “What are you waiting for? Put your knife in my heart. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“That would be far too quick for you, deserter. You left the Styx, and I want you to suffer for what you did to me.” Briar stepped in front of him. In the dying firelight, the twisted burn on her cheek was a livid scarlet. “I killed the little old woman who lived here, you know,” Briar crooned, her lips curling into a smirk. “She’s buried in the garden, being eaten by the insects and birds she loved so dearly. Funny, isn’t it? How we’re all eaten eventually?”

Pyotr couldn’t stop his breath from hitching. What was Briar going to do to him? Burn him? Torture him?

Pyotr raised his fist to punch Briar in the ribs, but Briar was prepared. She slugged Pyotr in the gut and twisted his arm behind his back. Pyotr howled in pain as he felt something in his arm pop.

A few minutes later, Pyotr was tied up in the rocking chair, hands bound tightly together. Briar crouched beside him and raised a knife. Its cruel, curved edge glistened a strange green in the firelight, like it had been dipped in….

“That’s right,” Briar whispered. “Poison. I’ve been saving it for this moment. You’ll be in pain for hours until you finally drop dead.”

Fear burned with cold fuel in the pit of Pyotr’s stomach. Though he clamped his mouth shut tight and closed his eyes, he could not stop his limbs from shaking as he waited for the slash to come. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The sound of the cuckoo clock was the slow, hard beats of Pyotr’s heart, pulsing in his heaving chest.

There it was―a sharp, efficient slit in the crook of his arm, a viper’s bite. Pyotr grunted as he felt a drop of warm blood roll down his arm.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. How long until the poison took effect? How long until he started to shiver and scream as it made its course through his body?

A few moments passed before the pain began. A dull, aching throb in his arm that spread as the minutes went by. Soon, his whole body hurt. Pyotr tried to move into a more comfortable position, but he was bound so tightly to the chair that he could barely move a muscle. All he could do was sit, enduring the ache in his bones, breathing deeply and trying not to groan, trying not to let Briar know how much pain he was in. At some point, the shivering started. Then the sweating. Even as he had resolved to stay strong, the ache worsened until he couldn’t help but cry out. Sweat trickled down his temple and dripped onto his clavicle.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it, deserter?” Briar said. “Imagine how I felt after you stuck that poker in my cheek. That took weeks to heal.”

Pyotr could only whimper in response.

As the hours went by, the cottage echoed with his screams, but Pyotr found no relief. His body was an enemy, a trap that he could not escape. Briar watched on, occasionally whispering gloating comments in Pyotr’s ear.

“No one is coming for you, Pyotr,” Briar crooned at some point. “Your friends are long-gone. They think you’re dead, left in a snowy grove with your chest split open.”

“Someone will come for me,” Pyotr panted. His mouth was dry, his skin pulsing with heat. “If not them, then someone else.” The words were achingly naïve, he knew, and he wasn’t even sure what “friends” Briar was talking about, but saying them brought him comfort, however small, something to cling to.

Briar gave a long, slow smile, saying nothing.

Pyotr lost track of the time he spent in that dark cottage. Briar had closed the curtains over the windows, so no daylight found its way into that foul place, letting Pyotr know that morning had come.

At some point in this feverish haze, Pyotr heard the door crash open. He lifted his head as Briar rose from his side and stepped towards the door. No sooner had he heard the shink of a dagger being drawn before a gunshot cracked the air, making Pyotr jump.

Briar’s body thudded to the floor not three feet away from him, a trickle of blood trailing from her mouth, eyes open and glassy, her knife clattering to the ground.

A pause, before a low, feminine voice broke the silence. “...is she dead?”

A tall man knelt beside her and pressed two fingers to Briar’s throat. “Yes. She’s gone.”

The floorboards creaked as someone knelt down in front of him. A woman―sable-skinned, with a tumble of dark braids and a tattoo of a rattlesnake coiling around her shoulder. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. The room was spinning.

“Pyotr,” she said. Another wave of pain racked Pyotr’s body and he cried out.

“Pyotr, are you okay?” She reached out and felt his burning forehead with a cool, slender hand. “Pyotr, answer me!”

More voices rang out in the cottage. “Pyotr! Pyotr!” So someone had come for him after all.

Their voices chased him into the dark.

#whump #whumpblr #whump fic #whump blog #poison #poisoned blade #dagger #knife whump #oc #writing #victorian whump #unconscious #pass out #poisoned #restrained #rescue #gunshot #character death #shot

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quazartranslates · 3 years

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Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH97

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 97: Castle Cry (XXIV)

"When we reach the rooftop, since it’s still raining outside, that will have an impact on vision and hearing, but you have an advantage; you can sense the demon’s energy, so trust in your perception more. Don't immediately rush at her after the crazy lady appears. Take her attention and observe, remember to save, and be careful."

When the door of the rooftop opened, Qi Leren stepped into the rain.

It was raining cats and dogs, and the Qi Leren was drenched in a few seconds. His mind hovered over the tipis Su He had told him before, and he clenched his dagger in his hand.

The garden in front of him did not have the appearance of being taken care of. Shrubs and weeds filled the rooftop garden after decades of overgrowth. Some trees that had floated here from nowhere grew wantonly in this place, forming a small dense jungle. If it was left to grow again, sooner or later, it would exceed the load-bearing limit of the roof and completely crush the roof of the castle.

She was coming.

Qi Leren felt the strange demon power, which emanated from the dense jungle.

There was a clap of thunder overhead, and the harsh lightning kicked off this decisive battle. Under the pale light, the woman coming from the forest was like a phantom, and neared in an instant. The rainstorm washed away her makeup and made her unrecognizable. She murmured in sadness, joy, and sorrow: "Ah, you’ve come."

Dr. Lu shuddered behind the Qi Leren, and shrank behind Su He.

"Let me have a look at your hearts. Have you betrayed your love?" The crazy lady suddenly appeared beside Dr. Lu, and looked him in the eye. Dr. Lu did not move, as if he had been stunned, and looked at her with a glassy stare.

It was too fast! He didn't react at all! Qi Leren looked at the crazy lady who had appeared in front of Dr. Lu in awe, and then looked at Su He, who shook his head and said, "The story."

Qi Leren felt a little comfortable. It seemed that this was an inescapable fixed story element, but even if it was a story, the speed of the crazy lady's display was really amazing.

The crazy lady sighed and took a step back. She looked at them gloomily in the rainstorm. "You don't love your lover, but you are loyal. I forgive you."

She disappeared in a ghostly way, and suddenly appeared in front of Su He and looked him in the eye.

Su He smiled at her, not surprised, not afraid.

"I cannot see your heart," the crazy lady whispered in confusion.

Su He politely held her hand and left a soft kiss on the back of her fingers: "I hid it in a secret place; even a beautiful and noble lady like you would not find it easily. I would like to dedicate it to my beloved."

The crazy lady's empty eyes softened, and she showed a smile, but it looked distorted and weird by this point. She said, "You are a loyal and elegant gentleman, a person worthy of being loved. May God bless you."

Su He let go and smiled at her: "Bless you too, madam."

The crazy lady turned around and looked faintly at Qi Leren. He could not see any emotion in Nan Lu's eyes. Her black eyes were already filled with another woman's resentment and madness. She opened her mouth and whispered, "Let me see... Look at your heart..."

At the moment when the two people’s eyes met, Qi Leren's mind couldn't control the images of the Witchcraft Sacrifice task! Every frame was his perspective, every frame was... Ning Zhou.

Countless times from the past overlapped in this short moment, whether it was the wet forest, the horrible cave, or the gloomy underground palace, the time spent with Ning Zhou was short and miserable, but it was also deep and sweet. When this strange and warm emotion burned in the soul, the lonely life was suddenly illuminated… Once tasted, it could never be forgotten.

The picture stilled on the Barrier of the Holy Spirit, the sky filled with light and song, and then suddenly jumped to the scene where he and Dr. Lu chatted with the four NPCs under the tree when the Castle task started.

The crazy lady opened her mouth, her inaudible voice clear and horrible in the rainstorm, and the excitement over her prey was unbearable: "Ah, you betrayed… Such strong and hot love, even my decaying body felt the warmth. But you betrayed your love."

Words as cold as the rain seeped into his clothes, the coolness penetrating into his bone marrow. Qi Leren’s mind shuddered, and all words of defence were instantly frozen in this rainy night.

"Run!" With Su He's order, Qi Leren, who had been stunned, started to run out. The cold rain hit his face, making it hard to keep his eyes open. The light of the flashlight seemed to stretch out into the night. Qi Leren tried to maintain balance and stop himself from tripping over the ubiquitous vegetation, but the crazy lady seemed to have some magical psychic power. The originally flat ground suddenly bulged where he ran, and the strong branches suddenly broke and fell in front of him.

The crazy lady’s ghost seemed to be everywhere. Sometimes she suddenly appeared in front of him, and disappeared with a strange smile after he was scared enough to have a heart attack. Sometimes she fell far behind him, like a wolf driving lambs. She played with her prey gracefully and calmly.

A few times, she approached Qi Leren, but when Qi Leren wielded the dagger and stabbed her, the blade of the dagger could not pierce her body! Her skin was as hard as stone, and she was not afraid of his attack.

The stairs of the rooftop garden lit up with fire, and what Su He said before the fight came to Qi Leren’s mind: "The Devil's sacrifices will be destroyed by Dr. Lu, and the oil I asked you to bring from the kitchen has also been given to him. After you lead the crazy lady to start running, he is responsible for igniting and burning the sacrifices — I'm not sure whether burning the sacrifices before entering the rooftop would cause some uncontrollable accidents, so it's better to burn them on the spot for the sake of safety. And you, when you run from the crazy lady, look for Xiao Hong's body along the way, and we will burn him as well after determining the position."

Dr. Lu opened and shook out the iron boxes one by one, throwing them into the fire. The ignited oil burned in the rain. As the sacrifices fell into the fire, the crazy lady who had been chasing Qi Leren suddenly gave a fierce howl: "No- Stop! You... Stop!!!”

An opportunity!

Qi Leren slammed on the brakes, and the Primary Fighting Skills in the card slot allowed him to twist and throw a miniature bomb at the crazy lady!

At the moment when the bomb flew out, the crazy lady who was holding her head as she screamed suddenly opened her eyes - under the gaze of scarlet eyes, the miniature bomb flying towards her was controlled by the force of her mind and bounced back to Qi Leren’s feet!

There was a loud roar, and the miniature bomb exploded instantly. The huge impact blew this corner of the rooftop garden apart, and the roof that had been weakened over the years was almost overwhelmed. The smoke of the explosion dispersed in the rainstorm, and Dr. Lu, who was watching the situation from a distance, was so scared that his face changed, fearing that Qi Leren would die without a corpse.

On the messy ground, Qi Leren, who was in the center of the explosion, succeeded in avoiding this fatal explosion by virtue of saving at the moment before the crisis.

Not far away, the crazy lady's shrill cry stopped. She slowly lowered the arms holding her head and looked at him with a crooked expression: "Unforgivable ungrateful people… I will kill you horribly! Tear out your heart and soul!"

As if it were a banshee's howl, her supernatural voice made the surrounding air shake, and the thunder exploded over her head. In the dazzling white light, she screamed bitterly, and the surrounding plants shook like crazy, and the sound of the leaves almost overshadowed the sound of heavy rain.

This is bad! We must get rid of her as soon as possible!

Qi Leren forgot to find Xiao Hong's dead half-body according to Su He's plan. He dug out the ashes from his inventory, and before the second loading time of S/L skill passed, he bravely rushed to the crazy lady and sprinkled the ashes onto her head. The ashes lit, and flames quickly jumped up from the crazy lady. Even heavy rain could not douse the flames on her!

She laughed like crazy. In the strong wind, the rainstorm was ignited, and the burning fire and rain spewed out in all directions under the guidance of incredible power. The shocked Qi Leren rolled on the spot and escaped the wave of fire and rain. The S/L skill’s 30 seconds were running out. Either commit suicide now or…

One tree after another was ignited by the flames, and was pulled up by the crazy lady’s strange power. Countless dirt and stones mingled with rain poured towards Qi Leren, and a flamingo tree was about to hit him. At this critical juncture, Qi Leren put the knife to his neck, and with the stabbing pain in his throat, the pain of being hit by the flying tree was also transmitted to his brain.

File loaded successfully.

After loading the file twice in a row, Qi Leren returned to the crazy lady, not thinking about whether this knife could pierce her body, and rushed up with all his eggs in one basket -

Wind, rainstorm, lightning, thunder... What happened in this castle on this rainy night merged into a horrible distorted afterimage before his eyes, with plants burning, the rainstorm burning, and the crazy lady standing still burning! Fire seemed to engulf everything, dragging everything into a burning purgatory.

The crazy laughter came to an abrupt end as the dagger inlaid with holy runes was stabbed into the crazy lady’s chest. She stared at Qi Leren in front of her, and the appalled expression was unreservedly revealed, making her more like Nan Lu than the crazy lady bewitched by the Devil.

Qi Leren's heart trembled. Nan Lu, possessed by the crazy lady - was there any of her consciousness there anymore?

The dagger was pulled out of the crazy lady’s chest and a flame flew out after it, which seemed to be burning blood. Qi Leren stepped back two steps, staring at the crazy lady for a moment.

The overwhelming raging flames began to droop, and the horrible fiery rain went out. Just like the end of a movement, everything that was burning warmly gradually died out in the rain. There were only a few scattered flames, burning quietly at the crazy lady’s feet.

The rain weakened, and the thunder sounded farther and farther away. The storm clouds that had been circling here all night finally began to recede, leaving behind a messy world and a group of people who indulged in stories.

The crazy lady's chest was bubbling with "blood", and the burning blood was as dazzling as molten metal, burning like a flame and gradually engulfing her.

"I had a long, long dream..." the crazy lady's hoarse voice sounded in the rainy night, tired and wavering. "You shouldn't wake up the dreaming..."

The crazy lady slowly closed her eyes, and the flames from the chest wound suddenly became blazing and dazzling, engulfing her entirely. Black polluted smoke rose from the flames and dissipated in the air, and the demon power disappeared, leaving a golden box in its place.

The rain had stopped.

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[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

#Welcome to the Nightmare Game #欢迎来到噩梦游戏 #danmei

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cicinicole-14 · 3 years

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Hi for the ship thing and headcanons, please do jolex 🥰

Who is a night owl:

dont get me wrong, they both most definitely will stay up late together or both pass out before 9pm on a Friday night, but some days when the depression hits, its jsut different and Jo is definitely more of the night owl. Alex is more of a morning person and Jo would rather sleep like the dead.

Who is a morning person:

as we’ve discovered, more so Alex esp when they have kiddos. Alex is the one to get up with them early and let Jo sleep, he makes breakfast with the kids’ help and keeps their room quiet for jo to get some extra sleep but will unleash their evil spawns when he deems she’s slept in long enough.

Are they cuddlers:

some days, yes, mostly. jo definitely loves the affection from someone who genuinely loves and wants her back. but there are days where she literally is like “do not come near me with your (temperature) hot body Alexander Michael Karev, you are a heater and I am already too warm”

Who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon:

Alex is def the big spoon. Jo likes cuddling into him because sh feels safe, he feels like home. but she def has big spooned him too it’s a 50/50 relationship we have equal roles people

What is their favourite sleeping position:

no lie, both spread out like starfish in their bed.

Who steals all the blankets:

Jo. Alex is a space heater and doesnt need blankets she freezes and likes being snuggled up and warm

What they wear to bed:

I mean some nights, nothing, but like jo def loves Alex’s old Iowa state shirts or his wrestling shirts from HS that smell like him. an old worn in t-shirt, anything with a pair of booty shorts or his boxers even. and Alex will just wear a t-shirt and boxers or flannels in the winter.

Who likes seeing the other wearing their t-shirt:

Alex wholeheartedly loves when jo wears his shirts unless its his favorite flannel and she steals it “come on, jo. you know that’s my favorite one. I wear it all the time.” its exactly why she takes it.

Who falls asleep mid-conversation:

jo, unintentionally. sometimes the insomnia hits and she won’t have slept for a couple days so when life catches back up to her she will fall asleep randomly. even more so while pregnant and right after their daughter is born. she just “night night Josephine”

Who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares:

they both have their fair share of horrid nightmares. Alex’s deal a lot with his trauma of growing up. his mom pulling various knives on his siblings and dad attacking them. even nightmares of jo leaving him like Izzie did and he wakes up without her.

jo’s are terrifying as well. she dreams that Paul’s death was just an illusion and that hes still out there and he’ll still come and get her. she wakes up drenched in a cold sweat and Alex holds her and they pull up his death certificate on the gsm database to prove it. she also has nightmares about being abandoned again. dreams of herself as a baby, dreams of her mother leaving her at that firestation. horrid nightmares. and Alex just holds her. she also has many nightmares about Alex abandoning her too just like her mother abandoned her but he’s never done that he’s always there when she wakes up and everything is okay again

Who accidentally punched the other in their sleep:

jo is an absolute horrible bed partner. she does NOT sleep still. she will move around so much during sleep its dangerous. yes, Alex did wake up with a bruise across his cheek one night from an elbow to the face...

Who can’t keep their hands to themself:

both of them. theyre notorious horndogs no autocorrect they are not corndogs please stop correcting me when you’re wrong

and just because, im throwing in the parenting meme one too bc my heart melts

packs the lunches

Alex. he gets up with the kids in the mornings and also we do not trust jo to make their children food. she’d feed them boxed Mac n cheese and take out the entirety of their lives. and while they love that and Alex wouldn’t care if it was jsut them, their kids need real food. he packs them lunchables and uncrustables but at least its a little more of a variety.

blows raspberries while cuddling

jo, more so. they both do, but jo LOVES a good chunky baby belly she can blow raspberries onto. and yes she leaves maroon lipstick marks on chubby cheeks and bellies.

is the tickle monster

Alex. and she runs to mommy to save her from daddy! “oh, now you want mommy, huh? as soon as daddy is the tickle monster all you want is mommy? not when I wanted cuddles, or we picked you up from daycare or I dont know, I gave birth to you and wanted snuggles you cry and want daddy but now hes the tickle monster you want me?” and jo scoops her up and tries saving her but ultimately they lose and get attacked in their very large bed by the tickle monster.

gives life lesson speeches

they both do just depending on the situations.

when the girls start dating, jo sits them all down separately, and explains to them a bit of her past. letting them know that no man should ever lay hands on them. she teaches them how to defend themselves and Alex ofc shows them in example how women should be treated. Alex makes it clear that if a guy or girl ever should treat his daughters or his son in any other way than he treats jo, that he needs to know and gOD forbiD one of them lay a finger on one of his children there WILL be hell to pay. jo obviously consoles him in front of her children but tells him “u already have a record. if anyone lays hands on our children I will be putting them in the ground not you”

kisses the boo-boos

Alex he is a pushover and 100% makes sure all boo-boos are kissed and even when the kids are way too old for having their boo-boos kissed, he makes sure the bandaids that are no longer avengers or dinosaur or unicorn or princess themed, have been properly kissed. even through protests of “dad, im not five anymore I dont need my bandaids kissed” “how do you expect them to heal, then, CJ? you’re my most clumsy kid, and I have had to kiss all your boo-boos and never once have I not. thats why you’re still in once piece”

breaks the bad news

jo makes Alex do it most times. she claims she’s the fun parent and tries to stay the fun parent by making Alex break bad news like “we cannot get another dog” she blames it on Alex but then brings home a puppy the following week.

joins the PTA

listen. LISTEN. when Greyson started big kid school, in kindergarten, they placed her in private school to give her everything they didnt have growing up. jo was determined to make sure she gave her daughter everything made sure she felt loved and was spoiled it was terrible. so jo, of course, sent her to Seattle Elementary academy and was not paying attention when she signed some forms signing up to be in the PTA. she loathed it so much and “Alex im sorry I cant do this. I know we wanted to give Gracie everything we didnt have growing up but I cant take it I cant take the private school. the volunteer hours the strict dress code violations? she is FIVE. I also have to volunteer FORTY HOURS this year alone. no! I am a surgeon, a mother of two and im pregnant! I do not have time for this! all these PTA moms are stay at home moms who have nothing better to do than gossip about their neighbors and drink wine. and I swear to god if I have to hear about Jessica’s fucking essential oils pyramid scheme one more time I will shove those oils so far up her a––” “Jo! Look, Ali, mommy’s here!” Alex interrupts her just in time. he doesnt blame her. those private school moms are quiet the handful. every time, one of them has the nerve to hit on him. “and I swear, if one more of those moms hits on you in front of me, im going to backhand her with my engagement ring on. no hate to most of them, but theyre too much” they end up ending Gracie, and Ali and the rest of the kids to public school just like they had grown up in and did just fine.

crashes sleepovers with embarrassing stories

oh one hundred and ten percent Alexander Michael Karev. he will find any moment to break out embarrassing stories and photos. hell, even when Zola, Bailey, ellis, Sofia, Harriet, scout, any of the bunch come over he’ll embarrass them too!

gives the crazy nicknames

not really either of them (that ive figured out in the moment) (the kkc kids do not have crazy nicknames yet) (we jsut have Gracie for Greyson, Ali for Alice, and CJ for Cristina Jo. Alexis goes by Sissy because of Alexis and Alexa and Eli usually goes by bubba seeing as how that’s what the twins have called each other growing up with Izzie and that stuck)

thank you so much for these! I loved loved loved doing them! even threw in some KKC universe things so if yall have questions about that feel free to ask I will share! tho there is yet to have a fic out about them yet… its been a bit difficult with writers block /:

#jolex #kkc universe #this turned into partially kkc stuff whoops #cici writes #ask coco

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dareactions · 4 years

Note

How would the love interests react to learning that the inquisitor has frequent nightmares that just got worse with the events of Haven? You’re doing a great job, by the way!

Cassandra: She isn’t surprised, everyone had to deal with the nightmares and echoed screams in their heads. Cassandra herself had woken up multiple times herself, the horrifying sound of the attack refusing to leave her be- so she knows how it feels. The Seeker finds her own ways of showing support, before a proper relationship they are hidden. The soft comforting touch on the Inquisitor’s shoulder, the suggestions dropped to others just within the Inquisitor’s earshot. Then it developed into hugs during those long and horrifying nights, grounding each other when needed and reminding both themselves and their lover that the battle is momentarily over and for the night they are safe. It breaks her heart, watching the person she loves struggle with sleep and guilt because of something they had no control over- all she can do is offer her support and love, hoping that it’ll help ease the Inquisitor long enough for a few hours.

Solas: The elf isn’t surprised, no- Solas knows better than most just how fickle the mind can actually be. There is guilt hidden behind that perfectly upheld lie though, guilt that he technically caused despair to someone so important to him. The man doesn’t hide his intentions to help like Cassandra, he is open with his suggestions of sleeping potions and potentially using the fade to help. He knows that the mind can do incredibly powerful things to people, especially when they’ve seen horrifying battlefields. He has no qualms about staying up later than usual, speaking to the Inquisitor in hopes of well- boring them to sleep with information. It’s worked on others in the past.Dorian: To say that Dorian isn’t haunted by nightmares as well would be a lie, so he knows how the sleepless hours can affect you. Though, he is almost certain the Inquisitor doesn’t dream about the scornful eyes of a father- but rather Corypheus mocking voice, the sounds of screams and the pain that came with the attack. Sometimes he finds himself absolutely horrified with it all, so he goes to him. He goes to the Inquisitor during late hours of the night and they talk, he can’t stop the dreams but he sure as hell can help the man fall asleep one way or another-most often through odd tales and late-night laughter paired with wine. Sera: A loud ‘yikes’ escapes her when she finds out, because holy shit. Sera would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about what the past dreams were about, the ones replaced with the horrors of haven- but she doesn’t poke or prod. She knows her limits just as well as anyone else, besides that’s the last thing the Inquisitor needs. Instead, she does what she does best, pokes fun at other people- does jokes and pranks; makes the Inquisitor laugh in their exhaustion. She is just happy she can make her smile despite the bad, reminding the Inquisitor during long nights that it’s okay- cause they’re not alone anymore.

Blackwall: Oh he knows that feeling too well, it’s like staring into a mirror. Blackwall is just as used to the horrifying screams in his head at night as the Inquisitor is so he has his own tricks to share. Of course, there is a certain heartbreak to it- knowing that someone he cares for so much is plagued by the horrors of war- a war they probably shouldn’t have had to get involved with if it weren’t for bad luck and being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He shows support, shows coping mechanisms and the two spend hours up when the whispers of the dead catch up with them. Sometimes it is good, to have someone that understands the terror or going to bed at night with the people you failed to save standing at the foot of your bed- sometimes it’s bittersweet because Tom realizes that they are just two very broken people who most likely are cursed to forever has only shards of a fully normal life. Blackwall won’t let that stop him from showing love and support though.Iron Bull: If there is one thing Iron Bull knows, it’s people. He knows what makes them tick, their little habits and how to show support when they clearly need it- and that is what he does. Bull shows his little tricks for a good night’s rest, offers whispers of comfort and love in the dark and other ways to cope. He has had his fair share of dreams in the past and with time learned to deal with them, something he will gladly assist the Inquisitor in doing as well. He has to admit he worries though, when the hours turn into days of no sleep at times- that’s when he intervenes and takes control. He reminds the Inquisitor that you cannot lead without a proper head on your shoulder, normally that makes them take at least a one hour nap next to him- guarded from any dangers and for once sleeping properly.Josephine: Haven was a tragedy, Josephine was the one who had to help write the letters for families of the deceased- she was the one who organized funerals and spoke with nobles about what to do. She saw the Inquisitor start to break apart from the dreams before anyone else, because she stumbled in on them asleep by their desk- tears in their eyes and sweat rolling down their forehead. She starts buying scented oils she knows helps, always leaving a lingering hand on their arm when they fall asleep nearby. Josephine knows she cannot change the terrors they have seen, but she hopes to ease the pain with her love and support. Some nights all that is needed is to hold the Inquisitor as they fall back to sleep, sometimes Josephine knows that sleep won’t come for the night and the two amuse themselves with conversations. The Inquisitor probably will always sleep with a knife under their pillow and the dead whispering in their ear, but Josephine hopes that her touch and voice can help them focus on something else- even if just for a moment.

Cullen: He knows this well, the dreams that is. The feeling of being stared at, waking up drenched in your own sweat with the need to vomit and scream all at once. Sometimes he wakes up wishing he could erase his own memories, and now he realizes that the Inquisitor does as well. He offers his methods of coping- and his company. Lonely nights aren’t lonely anymore and suddenly the Inquisitor can sleep for more time, even if it’s just 30 minutes. Cullen wishes he could remove the guilt and the bad memories but for now all he can do is offer bad jokes and soft equally as exhausted smiles as they meet in the kitchen to grab something to drink during the cold nights in Skyhold.

#Anonymous #cullen rutherford #josephine montilyet #lady Montilyet #iron bull #romance #romance reactions #romance reacts #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #inquisitor #dragon age reactions #companions reaction #blackwall #thom rainier #sera #dorian pavus #Cassandra Pentaghast #solas

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i-know-like-four-things · 4 years

Text

Panic and Confessions

This is a fic I wrote for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover ‘s and @specialagentrin ‘s @representation-week

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 2338

Summary:

Sam has a nightmare and a resulting panic attack, meaning that he was up in the early hours of the morning. Someone else is up. Confessions and honest conversations ensue.

The faces our boys wear when no one but each other is looking

Warnings: Canon typical violence, minor self harm. My thought process when writing it is that it wasn't really intentional, it was more of just a tic that the character has. It was written to be like a maladaptive coping mechanism, but It could be triggering for some folks. Stay safe lovelies!

Read on AO3

Sam woke feeling like his head was underwater. He looked down and saw unfamiliar sheets, and he simply assumed he must have been in another nameless motel in middle America. He rested his eyes for a moment longer, not wanting to become a part of the real world just yet. Surely, Dean was still asleep so he could afford a few extra minutes of denial and peace.

He finally decided to open his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling above him. And there was Jess, trapped to the ceiling, surrounded by flames. She was screaming for help. Sam tried to get up and help her, to yell back at the very least, but he was parrylized. He could do little more than watch.

Suddenly, the heat intensified and Jess was gone. In her place was his mom, Mary. Mary’s skin was blistering, and her hair was almost all gone. More and more of her flesh disappeared in front of Sam’s eyes, and her screams intensified. All of her skin burned off, and then her muscles and bones started melting, dripping like hot oil onto Sam’s exposed flesh. Again, he tried to scream, but nothing came out.

When Mary had completely melted, the fire went out and the room was suddenly freezing. Sam could feel the cold seeping into his bones and drying Mary’s remains on his skin.

“Hey, Sammy. Long time no see,” said a voice, slickly sweet, from across the room. In the corner, by the door of the room, stood a man. The man was slightly shorter than Sam, with sandy blond hair and stubble.

Sam still could not speak, but he felt like screaming as soon as he realized who it was. Lucifer. Lucifer smiled sickeningly before throwing his hand out to the side. A flash of light came out of his hand and struck a sleeping Dean right in the chest. At the contact, Dean screamed an ear-shattering scream. He screamed for what felt like an eternity, sounding like he was rupturing his own vocal chords, until he collapsed, limp into his bed, smoke rising from his chest.

“Thank Chuck we finally got him out of the way,” Lucifer laughed and walked confidently over to Sam. Sam felt his eyes heat and moisten, and his chest clenched as the fallen angel drew closer, but he could still do nothing except lay there and wait.

Lucifer loomed over Sam, looking down at him. He snapped his fingers and suddenly Sam was naked, his arms chained above his head, with Mary’s remains still stuck to him. He could feel the sharp metal of the cuffs cutting into the skin of his wrists, and the damp floor freezing his soul through his feet. Sam heard dripping water somewhere, and he took a moment to think how chiche that was. Dripping water in a dungeon? How original.

Lucifer walked up to Sam, carrying a knife. Sam pulled on the metal collar around his neck, again feeling it biting into his flesh, but to no avail. “Well, Sam,” Lucifer sneered, “this is going to be fun.”

Sam woke, for real this time, in his bed in the bunker. He was drenched from head to toe in sweat even though he was freezing. He sat up in his bed, tapping at his sternum. He had picked up that habit the first time that he had a panic attack and was trying to tell Dean even though he couldn’t speak. Now, any time his heart started to race and his breathing became unnatural, he would tap at his sternum until it became painful.

Sam hunched over and clutched at his hair, focusing on his breathing. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight. In for seven, hold for four, out for eight. Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the type of panic attack that he could stop, and that he would just have to wait it out. He hunched over, letting the tears flow freely from his eyes. He let himself hyperventilate, digging his fingers into his skin. Sometimes he wasn’t breathing. He would breathe in, hold it, unable to force himself to exhale, until he was dizzy. Then all the air would come rushing out at one. Then a labored, slow, and painful inhale.

It went on for ten minutes, where Sam was grasping for breath, his vision blacking out and him digging at his skin. Claw marks on his thighs. Crescent moons on his palms. Blood under his nails and on the rough patches on his face. Salt in his mouth.

When it finally subsided, Sam was exhausted, but even so he did not want to go back to sleep. It was more of a physical exhaustion, the one he felt in his bones, but his brain was running like a hyperactive labrador. So Sam decided to go wash his face off with cold water and then make some coffee. He’d have a lazy day if he had to, but he was not risking more of those dreams.

Sam slowly made his way to the bunker’s main bathrooms. They were set up like a college dorm. Some of the rooms had individual bathrooms, but sometimes Sam liked to go to the main ones; they reminded him of Stanford. So Sam slowly made his way to the stalls, running his hands over the walls of the bunker, letting the rough texture ground him.

He rounded the corner to the bathroom, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. He walked into the bathroom and was confronted with a very interesting sight. Cas was standing over the sink, in front of the mirrors. In front of him, he had various multi-colored things in front of him. And Sam had seen this scene before; he had lived with enough women to know what doing makeup looked like.

Cas was applying eyeshadow with the most delicate touches. He was going back and forth now, making sure that his eyes were symmetrical. When Cas decided that the eye shadow was good enough, he picked up his eyeliner to start applying that. Sam realized he was staring.

“Cas?” Sam asked, startling the angel. Cas dropped his eyeliner and it clattered loudly in the sink. He stared at Sam, a deer in headlights, but said nothing. Both men stared at each other in silence, neither one knowing what to say.

“I think we need to have a conversation,” Cas finally said.

“I’m all ears,” Sam held his hands open expectantly.

Cas sighed. “Would it be okay if we wait for Dean to get up? I’ve been meaning to talk to both of you, and I’m not really sure I want to have this conversation twice.” Cas looked down at his feet.

Sam felt for the guy, he really did. “Sure, Cas. Whatever you want,” Cas let out a breath of relief and turned to the sink to wash his makeup off. Sam felt his chest clench a little at the sight, but he brushed it off.

So Sam went to the kitchen and started making coffee. He looked at the clock and saw that it read 4:30. He went about his morning routine, getting ready to make eggs and bacon when he thought Fuck it. Dean doesn’t need to sleep any longer. Let's have a chat with Cas. Sam scampered off to Dean’s room, having decided to put all of his energy into being the most annoying little brother he could be.

Sam slammed open the door to Dean’s room letting it knock into the wall. Dean jumped up and swung his gun at Sam, but Sam didn’t flinch. He just flicked on the light and went over to Dean’s bed and ripped the covers off.

“What the fuck, man?” Dean demanded, putting the gun away and rubbing his eyes, “It's way too goddamn early for you to have this much energy.”

Sam leveled him with a bitch face, “I can’t sleep, Cas doesn’t sleep, and he wants to have a conversation with us. I didn’t want to wait for your lazy ass.”

Dean grumbled and rolled out of bed, “It’s not my fault that I live with a bunch of insomniacs.”

The brothers walked to the kitchen. At this point, the coffee was done brewing, and Sam made a b-line for it, before Dean shoved him out of the way. Dean grabbed the biggest coffee mug they had and filled it to the brim before he let Sam at it. Dean sat at the counter and wallowed in how terrible it was to be awake at such an early hour, and Sam went to find Cas.

Dean only dozed off twice while Sam was gone, and he thought that was pretty good. When Sam and Cas walked in the kitchen, Dean sent the angel a dopey smile as he took the seat across from Dean. Sam sat next to his brother.

Cas fidgeted and looked very uncomfortable with the prospect of telling the boys what had been weighing on him. He clenched and unclenched his hands, looked up at Dean, then down at the table, then up at Sam, then down at the table. Finally, he took a deep breath and sighed.

“When I became human, and when I was not in the bunker, there was a lot that I learned by observing and speaking with the people. The longer I was with them, the more I learned about myself. I began to feel that I did not belong, and not simply because I had been an angel. Part of this feeling of not belonging, I discovered, had to do with my not feeling as though I were a man. As I have explained in the past, angels do not have gender. At least, we do not experience gender in the same way that most humans do. From my understanding, angels experience similar genders to those of humans, but with a lesser intensity.

“One day I met a very interesting person who helped me realize who I was. This person said that they did not feel as though they fit into the ‘default’ categories of gender. They felt that their gender was something else, and was both masculine and feminine. They said the name for this gender was ‘nonbinary.’ I explained how I was feeling to this person in regards to my own gender, and they said that I might be described as nonbinary.

“Soon after that, I met up with the two of you, I met April, and you know how the rest goes. When I was working at the gas n’ sip, I did some of my own research about my gender. I came to the conclusion that I was, in fact, nonbinary. After this realization, it took me some time to come to terms with it myself. The more I read about non cisgender people, the more I realized how hard human life was for them -- for us. I was unsure how the two of you felt about gender, and how you would react to mine.” Cas pressed his lips together and lifted his eyebrows, indicating that he didn’t know quite where to go from there.

Cas ran his fingers over each other, waiting for one of the brothers to respond. To him, Sam looked very taken aback and confused; Cas couldn’t really nail down his reaction. Dean, on the other hand, just looked tired. Not tired like he does when he’s hopeless and beat down, but tired like he had just woken up, which he had, so Cas assumed that he was unfazed by this development. The coil in Cas’ stomach wound itself tighter around his internal organs as he waited for the boys to react.

Sam looked all over the kitchen, sometimes beginning to ask a question and then shutting his mouth. Sam had that deep furrow in his brow that he got when he was trying to solve a particularly hard puzzle. Dean just took another sip of his coffee.

Dean broke the silence first. “So,” Cas finally made eye contact, “what’re your pronouns?”

Cas blinked stupidly for a few moments before he responded. “Uh, they/them.”

“And is Cas still good or do you want to change that?” Cas’ lips turned up in the corners a little at that.

“No, Dean. ‘Cas’ is still good.”

Dean nodded and went back to his coffee acting completely unbothered by everything. Cas’ nerves settled a little, but Sam still looked confused. His eyes flicked between Cas and Dean for a few moments.

“Uh, thanks for sharing, Cas. I appreciate your honesty.” Cas nodded his head, and Sam just looked at Dean, even more confused. “I’m honestly more taken aback by how you’re reacting to this, Dean.”

Dean choked down his sip of coffee before answering angrily, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean, Sammy?”

“Well,” Sam looked away, “you have always been around hunters and hunters are not known to be overly accepting.”

“Well screw you. I’m accepting. I know all about the gay community. So this gender thing isn’t new to me. I’m cool with it.”

“How the hell do you ‘know all about the gay community’?”

“I may or may not have done some research a while back and I learned a lot.”

“And?” Cas finally spoke up, raising their left eyebrow and smiling a bit. The corners of Dean’s mouth turned up a little as he looked at Cas.

Dean held Cas’ gaze as he said, “Turns out I’m bi.” They were both full-on grinning now.

“Well, I’m pan.”

“So, cool!” Sam said, a little loudly and very uncomfortably. “I’m just a straight man and this was a much more open conversation than I was expecting. Thank you both for your honesty.” Sam slapped his legs and got up to get coffee, deciding that he had been up for too long and that this was too much to process without some help. Cas moved their hand to the center of the table, and Dean placed his over it gently, continuing to sip his coffee in peace

#representation week #nonbinary castiel #pansexual castiel #bisexual Dean #ptsd #panic attack #Cameron Black's Reads #fanfic #spn fic

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writingformeandyou · 7 years

Text

My OC

I FINALLY DID MY OC SUCKAS!

I decided to use mew-poo’s 100 OC asks, so thank you mew-poo!

I swear, I’m not stealing them!

Name: Veil Hagen Halvorsen (To cover, pasture, and guardian)

Home: Einn-Berg (Alone mountain)

1. What do they smell like?

A lot of lotion from Bath & Body Works (anything marshmallow or pumpkin), some sweat, and very faintly her past meal.

2. What is their voice like? It’s a mix between Yellow Diamond (Steven Universe) and Amethyst (Steven Universe)

3. What is their biggest motivator? Her village elder. He always made her feel safe and aided

4. What is their most embarrassing memory? Veil one time decided to be a show off to the other children in the marketplace by doing a flip in full armor. She did the flip correctly, but she ended up plummeting into the fountain filled with dirty well water.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain? She gets angry but will also cry, promptly getting angry again and try not to cry as she tends to her wounds.

6. What do they like to wear? Veil likes to wear longer clothes if she’s not in her armor. She lives in the cold, so it makes a lot of sense. Trenchcoats coming down to her ankles, turtlenecks, joggers, etc.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively? It was all of her relationships in general. All of her boyfriends and girlfriends all had the ‘I don’t give a shit’ attitude and it rubbed off on her. She grew stronger from these and she never cared much about negativity pointed towards her.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten? She ate an entire Naga head one time, eyes, brain and all. Her father brought it home after a large hunt and she was the only one brave enough to eat it amoungst her large family.

9. Describe the way that they sleep. She sprawls out across her mattress, drools a lot, kicks, punches, mutters, the whole shabang.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food? She enjoys a lot of meat and a lot of sweet things. Mostly sweet things. She can make a bakery hide in shame.

11. What do they feel most insecure about? She tends to feel a little bad about her weight. Like I mentioned, she loved sweet things, so she would feel a little bad about herself if her armor had to be reforged. Also her anger issues. She’s brash and aggressive and sassy, so he doesn’t like it if people jump to conclusions and think she’s just an asshole all the time (like some anons out there, I wonder who they are :o )

12. How do they like to dress? Long clothes, even in the heat. Fuck Lestallum’s officers asking and begging her to change into shorts or something. Long clothes are life. She also has some clothes that are hide and fur. She has a nice cloak made of white coeurl fur and bleached behemoth hide she likes to wear.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt? She stays quiet and lulls over what made her feel guilty. She stays in the darkest and coldest armor she can put on, especially her helm.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal? She gets pissed. She will smash apart anything she can get her hands on and smash anything apart. She screams, roars, and growls while breaking down into a pit of tears.

15. What is their greatest achievement? She became the general of her village’s army, always leading her people on hunts and forages.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep? Grumpy and will sleep anywhere. Even on the backside of a Magi-tek engine. The stereotypical black circles show up on her eyes and the grumpiness literally is written on her face in tired wrinkles.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk? She spills the whole entire factory of beans. You wanna know everything but magically didn’t say a word? Veil will become that old viking who tells you the whole tales of woe. She also slurs and finds fake trees sad.

18. What kind of music do they enjoy? Viking music and metal music.

19. Are they right or left handed? Ambidextrous.

20. Fears? Bugs, uncontrolled fire, dolls, some supernatural creatures i.e. werewolves.

21. Favorite kind of weather? Snow.

22. Favorite color? Icy colors.

23. Do they collect anything? Armor and weapons. She also somehow accumulated a whole stash of teeth from kills.

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more? Cold. She despises the heat.

25. What is their eye color? They change between gray and hazel.

26. What is their race/ethnicity? Northern European.

27. Hair color? Dyed a light lilac.

28. Are they happy where they are currently? Yes.

29. Are they a morning person? No, Veil likes afternoon where everything is alive.

30. Sunrise or sunset? Sunset, because she anticipates the next day.

31. Are they more messy or more organized? Messy, but that is how she stays organized. Whatever she needs, it magically surfaces.

32. Pet peeves? People who get on her about her accent (she gained an accent from talking to an amature jeweler), perfectionists, those who click their gauntlets against metal, people who don’t wash off blood from kills.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance? Her battleaxe she recieved from the elder before he died.

34. Least favorite food? Anything with fish (for the exception of shrimp and prawns).

35. Least favorite color? Pink and yellow.

36. Least favorite smell? Animal feces.

37. When was the last time they cried? During the funeral of the village elder. She had to burn him herself because she was asked.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried? The whole village of course.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured? She decided to do a local hunt that was closest to the village. Her village never communicates with the outside world, so she basically is the most modern. She decided to take on a quest that had the most amount of gil which turned out to be three behemoths. As she killed the smallest ones, the largest one manages to scratch open her cheek when her helm feel off. She almost went blind in her left eyes.

40. Do they have any scars? Obviously, the scratch marks from the behemoth. It goes from tthe right side of her nose to the lower half of her neck with another claw mark going under her chin and merging in. Otherwise she has brn marks from when her skin came into contact with heated objects or simply dropping a torch on herself or small scratches from hunts or fights.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues? Anxiety and psychosis depression.

42. Do they have any bad habits? She bites on her knuckles a lot.

43. Why might someone dislike them? She’s brash and can come off as rude.

44. Why might someone love them? She’s really cuddly and sweet to those that don’t piss her off.

45. Do they believe in ghosts? Yes.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives? The elder, but he’s dead.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone? No, but she wants to be.

48. Are they dating/married to anyone? No, but she wouldn’t mind.

49. Do they like surprises? Depends on the surprise. A festival? Yeah. Her mother dying from a werewolf attack? Not really.

50. When is their birthday? June 21, the summer solstice.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday? A festival is always thrown on someone’s birthday. For hers, since it is in summer, it celebrated by the whole village setting oil drenched metal suns on fire, a lot of firey objects, and a lot of meat.

52. Do they have any family? A deceased mother, a paranoid father who was thrown in jail for being thought of as a werewolf, nine brothers (in order of age: Valdus - 22, Farkas - 19, Mass - 18, Bjor & Reger - 17, Halvard & Halvdan - 16, Kilmar - 15, Alois - 10) and six sisters (in order of age: Veil - 23, Adelaide - 19, Leandra - 18, Selda - 17, Hildred & Gladys - 15 and Blondine - 10). Don’t get me started on the amount of aunts and uncles and cousins she has. She is the oldest sibling.

53. Are they close to their family? Yes. Mainly with her younger sister Adelaide.

54. What is their MBTI type? INFP - Idealistic, loyal to their values and to people who are important to them.

55. What is their zodiac sign? Gemini - The Twins.

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in? Gryffindor.

57. What D&D alignment are they? Chaotic Good

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about? Yes. It is about an attack on the village when she is not there or finding out that something slaughtered her family.

59. What are their views on death? She sees it as a place to either stay in the clouds and drink mead all day or to start over.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at? Aimals doing something adorable.

61. When bored, how do they pass time? She plays with the fingers of her gauntlets or runs her fingers along the horns of her helm. Sometimes she hums songs under her breath.

62. Do they enjoy being outside? Yes.

63. Do they have an accent? She has a mix between a New England accent and a Norse accent. It sounds good actually.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction? If it’s someone else’s, she’ll leave it alone. But if it a sibling’s or a cousin’s, fair game.

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say? She’ll take it on head first.

66. How do they feel about sex? She doesn’t care much about it, mainly because she doesn’t think about it. If it happens, it happens.

67. What is their sexuality? Pansexual - The sexual attraction to a person of any sex or gender.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood? No.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross? Flatuence and vomit.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them? Jerk With A Heart Of Gold One Woman Army Deadpan Snarker Big Sister Badass Girl

71. Do they enjoy helping people? Very much.

72. Are they allergic to anything? Cinnamon (rip), pollen, dandelions, dogs.

73. Do they have a pet? A pigmy goat named Lítill Fótr (Little Foot)

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper? Very.

75. How patient are they? It depends on the subject

76. Are they good at cooking? Very.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often? ‘You’re the biggest person here, bitch!’ “I thought I was, until you walked in with that nose of yours.” Or “You remind me of one of those Russian dolls: You’re full of yourself.”

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy? She’s kinder and always has a small smile on her face.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears? If it is her family, she will go through everything to use it against them. If it is someone else, she will do everything in her power to protect them from their fear.

80. Are they trustworthy? Very.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it? It depends. If she’s pissed, curious or depressed it shows. Everything else it barely shows.

82. Do they exercise regularly? The only exercise she gets is when she goes on hunts. Otherwise, she’s lazy.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look? Mostly, until you get to her height (5 feet) and her stomach & waist region.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people? Height (tallness). Strong jawlines. Big hands.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive? Brash yet kind.

86. Do they like sweet foods? VERY MUCH!

87. What is their age? 23 years olds.

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between? Short.

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts? None.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive? She finds herself at least 75% attractive.

91. What is their sense of humor like? She uses truth in her humor unless it comes to insults.

92. What mood are they most often in? Mellow.

93. What kinds of things anger them? Some outsiders, those who try to steal from her, picking on her and her family, bringing up her parents, etc.

94. Outlook on life? You focus on yourself first, then worry about others. It can be a cruel place if you do’t figure things out first.

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed? War, death to those who didn’t deserve it, plaugues.

96. What is their greatest weakness? Paranoia.

97. What is their greatest strength? Loyalty.

98. Something that they regret? Not being at home when her mother was slaughtered.

99. Biggest accomplishment? Becoming the general of the village’s army.

100. Create your own! - What does she look like? 5 feet tall, chubby, long and messy lilac dyed hair that goes past her waist, sharp gray/hazel eyes, a small nose, plush pale pink lips, thick eyebrows, broad shoulders, big breasts, pale olive skin, small ears, thick legs, small feet (about a size 6), a tattoo of Shiva on her back, a nice-sized booty.

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vivysummer · 7 years

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Love Me Not

Your fingers tingled softly, sliding down her soft skin and feeling her body shift ever so slightly as she slept. The sun peeked through the curtains, the sheer white color only adding to the beauty of the girl within your arms, her lips softly parted and slightly wet. Your muscles ached with the need to smooth back her chocolate colored locks, hands itching to rub across the supple curve of her cheek and lean closer to close the distance between your lips. You had to restrain yourself, afraid of waking her and losing this warmth pressed against the side of your body.

Your eyes wandered around the room, mouth twitching with a slight smile while your mind reminded you of memories that were somewhere between happy and worrying. This room, with its whites and creams should have made you nervous, but in the end it was emptied and turned into her apartment, not Rika’s. All those important documents were now under your lock and key, with assistance from Jumin, even though it left you with such high anxiety. It had been a few months, and the new system was working just fine, no problems to been seen yet. The apartment was now decorated with cute mascots and colorful shades, meant to fill the almost blank void,

Her body shifted, hands stretching out while she yawned softly and the sound alone made your heart skip a beat. She smiled at you, and your found yourself leaning in closer, a smile hurting your cheeks before your lips touched hers for what felt like the first time even though you’ve both shared so many. Her hands clenched at your jacket and you wanted to fling it off your body just so her hands could clutch at something closer to your body. You reluctantly pulled away, sitting up while laying her down gently still. “Aiiiigo, you can’t go being that cute, or I won’t be able to control myself! Sometimes I swear you do it on purpose.” You fumbled round the dresser for your glasses, sliding them on in time to watch her sit up with a grin.

“Yeah, maybe it’s on purpose. Or maybe everything I do makes your inner beast excited?~” She slid her legs to the edge of the bed, standing and stretching her body long, breasts high to the air. You shifted your gaze down, but you caught her stomach, pale and smooth and so, so ready for your hands. You reached for her slowly, hands ready to caress that forbidden skin, and the doorbell sounded, startling you. You turned for the door, hands falling to your side once more as you listened to her shuffle off to the bathroom. You checked the CCTV screen and the small door peephole, watching Jaehee adjust herself in what she saw as ‘going out clothes’. She wore a cream colored blouse, with brown slacks and coffee colored pumps, looking way more put together than your gray tank top and black jeans with what may have been a oil stain on them.

‘Oh well,’ you tell yourself, ‘if my princess likes it, who am I to judge myself?’ You open the door for Jaehee, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jaehee! Did Jumin send you for me? Did he finally agree to make me his cat food model?”

Her face scrunched up, and she pushed her glasses up, taking a deep breath.

“Saeyoung, good morning. No, Mr. Han has decided to go with someone else for the commercial. I came to help with getting groceries, since I hear you are busy.”

Before you could let some witty joke slip from your lips, the bathroom door opened and you turned, her lovely form causing a hitch in your breath, making your heart skip another beat, sending your whole soul up to space and then pulling you right back down so she can grace you once more.

You took in every inch of her, the long legs that led to the cutest shorts which were almost covered by one of your sweaters, the one with the headphones whose cord trailed into a heart toward the bottom. Of course, the best part was seeing her eyes shine with such happiness, and for a moment you could almost feel her love fly to you, carried by a plane-- no -- a UFO. She walked to you and gently tapped your face, bringing you back to reality.

“Ah, yes. Jaehee is here for you, princess. Please, be safe and return to me soon, or I won’t be able to concentrate on my work.~” You gave her hand a gentle kiss, letting her put her shoes on before seeing her out the door. You would just have to trust that Jaehee would bring her back safe. After all, there was no danger anymore, and Saeran would be in soon enough help you work.

The only comfort you could find was a picture that you had taken with the other RFA members. Surprisingly, it was the only photo she seemed to have framed, but you supposed it wasn’t to strange. After all, that’s what phones are for, and you each had plenty of photos together. Your fingers traced her face lightly, a smile spreading across your face. You set the frame down and turned to the desktop, finally able to work.

It was evening by the time you looked up from your desktop. There were crumbs of Honey Buddha chips strewn around and you had gone through cans of PhD Pepper but only one bottle of water. Your phone screen was a beam of blinding light, coming from the top of the bed, and you groggily rose to get it, shuffling over. Zen’s photo stared back at you, along with a text notification from Jumin.

“Yo! Zen-” He cut you off, his words a jumble, but you could make out the two important ones.

“She’s hurt.”

You stopped him, hand rising to push your hair back, your entire body feeling hot and clammy.

“One more time… Slowly. What.. what happened to her?”

By the time you’d gotten there, you were drenched in sweat. Your car was parked haphazardly outside somewhere, and you’d just run in, looking for Zen in the waiting area.

“Where? How is she? Can we see her?” You grabbed his shoulders and practically pushed him towards the front service desk.

“Saeyoung! You need to calm down. She is fine. Jaehee woke up and has been by her side feeling guilty this whole time. For her sake, please calm down.” He redirected you to the elevator, hitting the 5th floor button. You made a note of it, just in case. Only in case she didn’t walk out of here today.

“They’re still looking for who did it. The only thing Jaehee can recall is that the attacker was dressed in blue, and then they were gone. She keeps saying that she should have watched her, she shouldn’t have let her go outside alone…” Zen leaned his forehead against the elevator wall, and you could only stand in silence waiting for the doors to open. Jaehee wasn’t doing well either, you understood that. She felt awful about it all, and you knew that, so why were your insides still tight and waiting, like you were going to burst?

Jaehee was already up and walking, which seemed wrong but also so much like her. Jumin’s face showed only calm, but his body betrayed that, every limb looking so stiff, almost uncomfortable. Yoosung was seated next to her bed, his hand holding hers. It was as though the room was a screen, loading in bits and pieces. You saw Yoosung and then their hands, her chest rising and falling, and your eyes began to see the bruises. Faint purples and dark blues that painted her neck and continued up to her swollen cheeks, bandages covering so much of her, with spots of blood seeping through here and there. You didn’t really see who sat you down, your eyes were still taking in the sight of her beaten body.

“I should have done more. She said she would be right back, that she would be gone for a few seconds. I got distracted, and didn’t realize until I heard the commotion outside… Saeyoung please… Say something.”

The floor was blurry, so you blinked to clear it up, and then your cheeks felt strange. Crying was something you didn’t want to do, because then you would have to explain. How could you explain this feeling? Such anger and sadness, combining to make a feeling so intense it’s as though you’ll be sick? What kind of emotion is that?

“It’s… not your fault, Jaehee.” A weak smile crossed your lips as the tears welled up again. “I… the defender of justice, should have given her something for this.” You gave a weak laugh, the end of it becoming a sob. That’s all you would allow. You would not fall apart, because this was something unforeseeable.

From his place next to the hospital bed, Yoosung made a small noise, his head turning to look at the frail figure in the bed. She stirred, her eyelids fluttering softly before adjusting to the bright fluorescents.

“The lights.” You manage to croak it out, your throat dry and your hand already reaching for the switch to turn them off.

When she can see again, she smiles at you sweetly and suddenly your ball of emotion melts away and you can feel her warmth once more.

“Thank you, Seven. That’s so much better.”

It crushes you, your whole body giving a small jerk in response. The whole room is tense, and all eyes are on you.

“Seven… You called me Seven. Do you… remember who I am?” She giggled, the sound a blessing to your ears but the meaning a curse to your soul.

“Of course I remember you, I remember all my friends at the RFA. You… are the defender of justice! 707! Our prankster, my friend.” She meant to smile but her cheek caused her pain and the bandages irritated her. You felt someone tugging your arm and you pulled away, ready to be hysterical, ready to cry like a child and not care anymore because your world was suddenly torn from your hands. She didn’t remember you, not who you really were. Just your fake self, a lie that you thought you had abandoned long ago. Two arms lifted your body, half dragging you into the hallway as she watched you with confusion in her eyes. Jaehee stood in the corner with Yoosung at her back, her body hunched and shaking. Crying… she was crying.

“Saeyoung… The doctor mentioned that this would be a possibility. Her amnesia should not be permanent, it’s going to be fine. We can stay here near her… but we need you right now.” Zen’s face screamed with concern, but his eyes stayed serious, almost heavy as they rested on you. “You need to double check our security on the important information. Jumin will go as well-”

Your lips were chapped, and your voice cracked while you stood what ground you had left. “No.”

Jumin pushed off the wall, moving to stand next to Zen.

“You don’t have a choice. This is clearly means we or her are being targeted again, and we have to do something. We need your skills again, and then we can start worrying more about her lost memory. I’m sure it’ll come back.” His usual calm was replaced with what looked like determination, except you could see the shake in his hands. He was just as shaken as you, just better at hiding it. This… would be fine. The doctor said it should be temporary and that gave you enough time to deal with the security and find out who hurt her so terribly-- your princess laying there so broken and fragile-- It was enough to kick your senses.

“Yes. We have to figure this out. For her, I’ll do everything to figure this out.” Heart racing, mind racing, you sorted through all your steps, and in the midst of it somewhere you remembered Saeran, probably looking for you and feeling abandoned once more. Your heart sunk again, and you reached for your phone, fumbling to press his contact image and call him. His voice was panicked as he answered.

“Saeyoung! Where is the room? I don’t know her last name, I can’t ask the front desk!” You tapped Zen’s shoulder and showed him Saeran’s photo, hoping it’d be enough of a hint for him to go and retrieve him from the main floor. He took it as it was, hurrying down the hall to the elevators.

“Saeran… Zen will bring you here. I’ll need your help with some things after all of this.”

“Is it true? Does she… really not remember about you? Anything about who you really are?”

“She… remembers me as Seven. I don’t know if she’ll remember you, Saeran. She can recall all of the RFA but… We just aren’t sure.”

His face grew worried, brow furrowing as he knocked softly on her open door.

“May I come in? Sorry for intruding.” You followed behind him, eyes darting over to Jaehee, her eyes red but no longer watery from crying. She was on the other side of the hospital bed, holding tightly to a small hand. It felt like this morning was a dream, a haze that you might have fabricated from having too many sodas.

“Oh Saeran…” Jaehee dabbed at her nose once more. “I’m glad you could make it.” She let go of the small hand, and you found your eyes travelling up the arm, looking at your love’s face once more. Her eyes were all for Saeran, and you could feel the bile of panic rising once more, waiting for her to break into hysterics. Instead, her rosy lips, even surrounded by the blackish blue of the bruises, broke into a smile, hands reaching for Saeran.

“My love… You’re here at last. I was waiting for you.”

@shapeshifter-ari

#long post #mystic messenger #mysme #707 #luciel choi #spoilers #mysme spoilers #MC #707xMC

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demonwriterx · 7 years

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Tremors Zootopia CH 2 "Goodbye Perfection"

After their meeting with Judy Hoops, Nick and Finnick pulled into the small town of Perfection and parked right outside the convenience store that was “Grey’s Market”. It was the only store in Perfection. The owner, Gideon Grey, another fox, was fair with his prices and everyone didn’t complain but when it came to bargaining, he was a force. Nick couldn’t remember how many times he traded something with Gideon, that seemed like junk to him, only to turn around and see Gideon turn it into a profit. He could recall one memory when he had turned eighteen and found a large refrigerator that could hold refreshments. Nick managed to fix it up, cover the rust with paint, and had it in perfect working condition. When Gideon noticed he offered Nick, one hundred and fifty dollars. Two weeks of working odd jobs and he would have never gotten close to that amount, without a second thought he sold it. The next day, he found out to his dismay that Gideon had been using it to store the alcohol and soda pops. Before, the animals were used to drinking their liquids warm, but once Gideon plugged in the machine he had made double of what he paid for it in one day. If Nick would have kept it, he would have gotten a business going and would have left Perfection within a year of savings. The market was made out of wood and painted red, but over the years, the intense heat and constant dirt storms peeled and dulled the paint down. Even the logo that spelled “Grey’s Market” in yellow, looked sick and nauseating. It was as if they were walking back in time to the Wild West. Nick slammed the truck door close, not even bothering to lock it as he made his way to the market’s porch and to escape into its cool shade. His eyes fell onto Weselton, a weasel who wore jerseys and shorts everyday, practicing with a basketball that needed to be pumped with air. He lived in an old trailer home, right in town, with fake grass and knickknacks thrown across the yard. He lived with his parents, which Nick thought was humiliating and sad since they constantly abandoned him to go to Vegas and gamble. Sometimes for weeks. To pass the time, Weselton dribbles with his basket and annoys the town with his stupid pranks.

Finnick cast a glare at Weselton, who was busy throwing the basketball onto Grey’s truck to notice, until he was called out. “Hey you slimy weasel! If you touch this truck, you’re dead!”

Weselton snorted, bringing the basketball to his chest. “Ooo, I’m shakin’!” He said in his nasally voice. Every time Nick heard it, he couldn’t help but cringe. Once, Finnick saw him throw his basket ball right at their truck and broke their side mirror. He was so angry, Nick had to pull him away from Weselton in fear that he might break his bones. Instead, they agreed he’ll work off the damage by helping in a few odd jobs to pay for it. Ever since then, if Weselton ever stood within ten feet of it, Finnick would run out and chase him off.

The loud squeaks of the door signaled everyone inside of their arrival. Gideon Grey, the pudgy owner was behind the counter, organizing and taking inventory, half-listening to one of his regulars. On the other side of the counter was the even pudgier Benjamin Clawhauser, the hefty cheetah and his wife, Honey Badger, a badger…which was obvious. She was dressed head-to-toe in camo gear and always had a gun on her. Honey and Clawhauser were two survivalists, they came to Perfection to await the upcoming apocalypse. They were a friendly couple but a little paranoid, who loved two things, their guns and their MREs (Meal, Ready to Eat). Clawhauser was counting bullets on the counter while his wife, Honey, was busy complaining about the cartridges that came in for them.

“No, Giddy, this isn’t what I ordered. I ask for hollow points, these ain’t hollow points.” She said, pushing them away towards him. Once Gideon noticed Nick and Finnick, he immediately turned around and got them two cold drinks, placing them on the counter in front of two empty seats. Nick was glad to rest his tail and relax after a long morning. Clawhauser gave him a friendly smile as he puts the bullets away.

“Hey guys, what have you been up to?” He asked.

Nick took a sip of his soda before answering boredly. “Meet some college student, Julie.” His head jerked forward when Finnick slapped the back of his head.

“It’s Judy. Judy Hopps. She is getting some strange readings on her little machines out there.”

Honey Badger lifted her head up, eyes wide, which meant to everyone she was going to begin on a new conspiracy theory. “Shoot, well those kids might find oil or uranium out there! Next thing we’ll know the feds will be knocking on your door saying “Sorry pack your bags!” and so begins…Primal War 3”

Clawhauser gently patted Honey’s shoulder. “Down, Honey. Down.”

Nick smirked, giving them a sleepy gaze. “Yeah, Honey, from the way you worry you might give yourself a heart attack before you get to survive Primal War 3.”

Everyone laughed, while Honey gave him a patient smile. They had known eachother for years, close as most friends. Just then, the compressor of Grey’s fridge let out a chugging and high pitch squeal. The fridge rocked from its own noise as if it was ready to explode or die on the spot.

“Hmm, must be the Bearing right Nick?”

“Must be.” He replied, heading towards it. He had worked on that machine for months and considered it his greatest achievement but Finnick cut him off.

“But we can’t fix it now, we got to get going to Lionheart’s place.”

Nick’s shoulder sagged and turned back to the group. “Right. We got to get plan ahead. Finnick explained it to me.” As they headed out the door, Nick noticed a beautiful, decorative piece of art made out of iron. It was in a shape of an ox head and attached to it was a price tag of thirty dollars. Nick pointed it out.

“Gideon, what is this?” He asked in disbelief.

Honey popped in. “Isn’t it nice? We bought two and placed them in the rec room.”

Nick’s eyes lowered and went up to Gideon. In a low and quiet voice he whispered. “We sold them to you for three bucks a piece!”

Gideon responded with a deadpan look. “And I appreciate it, friend.”

Nick, was once again, hustled out a large amount of cash because he thought he was hustling Gideon by selling it to him by twice the price he thought they were worth. They were ugly and worn, but Gideon managed to buff it out and make it into something desirable. His envious thoughts were interrupted by the blaring alarm of their truck. Finnick and Nick ran outside to see a sulking weasel sneaking off with his basketball.

“Hey Weselton! What I told you about the truck!” Finnick shouted angrily, waving his fist towards him. Wesealton ears went back in fear and shook his head.

“I didn’t do nothin’! Your truck is malfunctioning…or something.”

Finnick snorted and waved him away, not wanting to deal with him. Nick chuckled when they went inside the truck.

“Why don’t his parents ever take him to Vegas?” He asked, Finnick gave him a glance.

“Do you really have to ask that question?”

Nick put the truck in reverse. “Would save us some headache.”

The loud rumple of the bulldozer shook in mighty vigor with Finnick on the wheel. Even if he was too short to reach the pedals, he compensated by maneuvering it with a broken broom stick. Nick was picking up the smaller garbage thrown about in Lionheart’s backyard which served as a junkyard of sorts. The metal stays but paper and other unmentionables had to go. Nick had his nose and muzzle covered by a hoofkercheif, to block some of the dry manure-like smell. He picked up an old black garbage bag only to fall to pieces right on his feet. He let out a grunt and tossed the plastic down in frustration. It was time for a break. Nick collapse on a broken down chair in the yard, marinating in the sun from the flood of sweat drenching his fur. He eyed Finnick lazily as he turned off the machine to join in. Nick reached inside a broken toilet taking out two cans of (very) warm sodas, tossing one to Finnick as he sat down on a abandoned couch next to him. The click and sizzle of the cans filled the air, making Nick speak up.

“Well, I tell you something Finny…no animal pick up garbage better than we do.” He said, glancing at Finnick, who took a sip from his can.

“Yup.” He answered non chalantly.

Nick sighed. “Come on, this is low. We are better than this, garbage collecting? We have got to set out sights on something better.”

Finnick rubbed his temple. “Anything is better than this, I admit, what you got in mind?”

Nick attached the septic tube into the open channel right outside Wesealton’s family trailer home. The large rusted septic take rumple as it began sucking in large amount of feces that collected over the months. Finnick cranked the nuts and bolts into the tank, not wanting any cracks to show, to avoid any leaks.

“When you said we should do something else, I didn’t expect this!” Finnick shouted over the heavy noise. “Hey Wesealton, why don’t you help us out? This is your crap anyway!”

Wesealton was sitting on a plastic chair, watching the two foxes work. He ignored Finnick and turned to Nick. “Hey Wilde! Why don’t you run to the store and get me a pack of beer, I’ll pay ya when you get back.”

Nick snorted as he walked back to Finnick. “Not on your life, Weselton!”

He lurched foreword almost losing his balance on his chair. “Wesealton! Duke Weseal-ton!”

Finnick had his arms crossed as he glared at Nick, normally they avoided this job for “obvious” reason. “This is “the” worst idea, you had ever had!”

Nick leaned back and crossed his own arms. “I don’t see you coming up with any ideas! All you do is drag your little feet!” He said defensively.

Finnick growled and moved his paws to his waist, holding a dominant stance. Something that foxes do when trying to win an argument. Nick swiftly mimicked him, not wanting to stand down.

“Are you going to say that to my face, Wilde? That the reason we are still in Perfection is because of me? Do you know how close I am to leaving this place!”

“Alright I’ll take that bluff, how close?”

Before Finnick had the chance to shout it out, the septic tank erupted, leaking right out of the hose and covering the two foxes in a shower of…unmentionable. The two foxes backed away from the onslaught of the spray but it was too late. Nick and Finnick shouted out curses and profanities while Wesealton pointed and laugh at their misfortune. Nick growled, that was his breaking point. He can be hustled out of a profit, he can be paid less than minimum wage, he can chop firewood but being covered by Wesealton’s own dung? That was enough for him to finally leave. Once cleaned up, scrubbed and sanitized, Nick packed their belongings into the back of the truck while Finnick strapped them in with cables. Leaving behind their small trailer home and other furniture they couldn’t fit in the truck.

“Why are you bringing the vacuum cleaner?” Finnick asked as he jumped down from the truck.

Nick shoved the machine inside. “I like this vacuum cleaner.” He retorted, opening the passenger side door.

“I never seen you use it!”

“It’s good for parts!”

Finnick took the wheel and the foxes speed away down the dirt road. They agreed not to tell anyone of their leaving because it would cause them to try to keep the two in Perfection and even Nick didn’t want to admit, that even though they appeared to be loners and shifty characters, but they were actually two softies. One ask and they’ll accept, it was their greatest weakness and also if they get free food and drinks along with it. They drove down the town and they didn’t want to stop until they saw a little shrew, waving them down frantically.

“Oh boy, there’s Fru Fru, I’ll notice that huge wig anywhere.” Nick said, Finnick sighed and slowed the truck down.

“I bet she wants us to chop firewood again.”

“You mean chop toothpicks?”

Finnick stopped the truck in front of their massive mobile home, they could never understand how a small shrew could live in a home 100 times her size. Nick got out of the truck to meet with Fru Fru, helping her climb on his paw to talk in eye level.

“Sorry Fru Fru, we aren’t chopping firewood today, we’re leaving town.” He said with a smirk. His ears perked when he heard a small noise. Boing. Boing. Boing. He smiled when he saw Fru Fru’s daughter, Mindy, bouncing on her pogo stick. Finnick leaned his head out when he heard the familiar noise. Her daughter, about ten years old, always had a number in mind to break her personal record.

“Hey Mindy!” Called out Finnick. “What’s the count?”

“Six hundred and thirty-four!” She squeaked out, not losing any momentum. Fru Fru tossed her hair back, placing her small paws on her hips.

“Oh sure!” She said in a high pitch voice, not believing them. They had said the same thing for years and they still stuck around. That was until she saw their belongings in the back. “Oh my stars! You are!”

Nick nodded still holding his grin, but Fru Fru glasp her little paws together.

“Oh but I need your help fellas! I have a big order to fill and I need to build a new pottery kiln! It will only be a month’s work!”

“Sorry Fru Fru, we really can’t!” Finnick replied, trying to stick to the plan.

“Well you heard him Fru Fru.” Nick put her down, making her jump down to the ground. She dusted her working dress slightly.

“What if I throw in lunches?”

Nick gulped and turned to Finnick, he usually has the final say. Fru Fru noticed their hesitation and added. “And cold sodas.” She said in a sing songy voice. Nick cringed at Finnick. The truck raced down the dirt road with Finnick cheering behind the wheel with Nick laughing beside him.

“We did it! We beat temptation!” Finnick said holding the biggest grin Nick had ever seen. Nick leaned back, putting his paws behind his head.

“Never thought I see the day. We are finally free from this dump.”

“You know it, it might be hard getting an apartment in the city but we’ll figure something out.”

“Oh right.” Nick’s ears lowered but he had a little bit of optimism. “I’m sure we won’t live under a bridge.”

Finnick sniffed and look ahead towards their new life. They were already 15 miles passed the line of Perfection and were already seeing signs of civilization, the tall power lines and towers stretched across the road. Finnick looked up at them as glimmering hope of a new life and saw a lone animal working on one of them.

“Now that’s one job I will never do, anything around eletrictity.” He said, pointing up to the figure as they drove right next to the tower.

Nick squinted his eyes through the glaring sun. “Hey, is that Bellweather?” Bellweather was the bum of the town, she slept under the stars wearing the same wool coat everyday. She acted sweet most of the time but when she gets drunk, she goes on a massive rant against predators. “Predators must die! Prey will rule the races!” Nick thought that was a little strange but the townfolks just ignored her threats as a drunk’s antics.

“Nah, couldn’t be…” Finnick replied but he looked back up again. “How can you be sure?”

“No it’s her! I know that coat anywhere! Hey stop the truck.” Finnick rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Can’t believe this crap.” He drove to the trunk of the tower and parked the truck. The two foxes got up and sure enough, they recognized the female sheep. Nick cupped his paws around his mouth and shouted.

“Hey Bellweather! What are you doing up there!”

Finnick scratched his head and yelled out. “Get down before you hurt yourself!”

Bellweather sat at the half point of the tower but it was at least a few floors high. Nick and Finnick glanced nervously at each other when they got no response from her. Finnick chewed the inside of his mouth as Nick rubbed the back of his head.

“Well…shoot, guess we have to leave her up there, let’s go Finny.” He said, heading back to the truck.

“Are you serious?”

Nick turned around. “I was just kidding! But…we can’t leave her up there.”

“Yeah…you’re right, it wouldn’t be right if we leave her. She’s probably stuck.”

“Probably.”

They both stood side by side in silence until they meet eachother’s eyes, each putting up a fist. With a few shakes, Nick threw scissors and Finnick threw rock. Nick tilted his head up at Bellweather.

“Thanks Dawn, thanks a lot.” And he started climbing. He was muttering under his breath the whole time he climbed up. “Stupid racist sheep, have to drag my tail to drag yours down?…what bad luck. Right when I was leaving this dump.”

He reached up on the bar right below Bellweather. “Alright, just take my paw and-!” He retracted his paw, almost losing his balance from the sudden shock. Bellweather was slumped against the metal bars, her mouth slightly open and her eyes dull. She sat motionless on the tower, dead.

——————————————- I hoped you enjoy!

#zootopia #Nick wilde #Judy hoops #Wilde hopps #finnick #assistant mayor bellweather

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