#// You didn't ask for a drabble but like---

[forgottenarthur]

50. Writer's preference - "And what if it is not you?"

The barb stung and Arthur turned away as quickly as if she had struck him.

These walks had become something of a tradition between the Prince and former Princess over the rolling weeks. With the out of doors near unpassable, Arthur's mornings had shifted to a shorter indoor practice before dawn, followed by a brief repast and then a stroll through the Orangery with the Lady Aria. Though they still argued as often as they didn't, there was something free and flowing in these conversations -- a strange sense that no subject was off limits...And that every single one was somehow taboo. It was perhaps true that they had each been raised as royalty, but it seemed their worlds could not have been more different.

Today, the subject had fallen to that all-encompassing theme of his life, the most pressing topic in the empire, and the one least likely ever to be openly addressed: Roderick's line of succession. It was an ache in his gut, this, a hill he had run up all his childhood only to find a sheer rockface confronting him. Now, scrambling for footholds in the brutal cliffside, it was a race to the top against those he loved most -- a climb now far too high to risk the drop. It was success or the death of all meaning. But what was he to do? Throw his siblings from the sides? They too held on by meager fingertips and he could not bear to think of them dashed against the teeth of the unforgiving stone so far below.

Arthur's jaw clenched. He kept her pace, but he no longer looked at her as she spoke; heard her only as if from a great distance. What was there to say? Yet, her last words burned, searing like vinegar in his cuts, and he turned sharply towards her, a rush sounding in his head.

"What? You favor someone else?" he demanded, all effort at bluster or calm stripped away. Surprise seemed to register in his face and, pressing his eyes shut, he shook his head, realizing she meant this only as rhetoric and, with a look of defeat, he sighed; shook his head. "How should I know? It would be the end for me."

He didn't look at her, now, gaze straying upwards towards the gently nodding trees, branches heavy and sagging with fruit. He thought of the tart-sweet of them, tawny and opening with a kind of crack. Fibrous chambers of juice attended the tiny seeds at the center and this, then, was life. Even trees limned their children with sweet cushions against the harsh reality of the world around them. When he laughed, it was a bitter sound.

Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "Aria, I--" but he stopped. He'd not said her name so baldly before and he gestured, helpless, voice trapped within his throat.

Her eyes were dark: not mere chocolate, but something else as if the sea had leaked into them and tossed against stormy shores within her mind. Her face was set, but he could not read it. He searched for something written there, something designed for him to read: he wanted it. He knew the message he wished to read. A very simple message. He wanted to read it again and again, see it roiling within the storm of her eyes. But there was nothing. She was no harbor. She was, perhaps, another deathly drop.

Aria lifted her chin. "Go on."

"I don't know what will happen if my father chooses someone else any more than you do. But I do know I will be a threat to whoever is chosen, simply for having been in the running, and..."

And if it were Edmund who were selected, whom Arthur regarded as the most likely alternative, he would not expect to long outlive his father -- or even his father's choice. Enemies of the House of Calainon had a way of disappearing. Arthur was not altogether certain they even lifted a finger: they were witches, after all. Likely, all they needed do was wish for a thing, and their dark magic did the rest. Edmund might not wish him gone, perhaps...but Amira would not hesitate. He could not help but think that would make for a horrible ending, all the demons of hell rising at her command. His would be a silent end, he had no doubt, yet he knew, too, that if it were by Amira's hand, he would die howling.

If Aria had said something else, Arthur had not heard it. At last, she said: "And what if the Emperor doesn't choose? What happens to us all, then?"

Arthur stopped short, and Aria beside him. "Then it'd be war."

He walked out without another word.

#this was really interesting to write -- he's actually much more clear eyed (when forced to confront it) than id thought he'd be honestly #drabble #challenge #aria stafford #edmund varmont #amira varmont #guinevere varmont #ask #honestly still ruminating abt this like...this response really shocked me?????? #i kinda thought he'd be like 'guess id turn to duke or knight errant or smth' or just bluster but he was like 'nah im dead by black magic' #me: you ok arthur????? #arthur: obviously not #roderick varmont #arthur's gonna go hit smth really really really hard btw if you're wondering where he's off to #realizing being a knight isn't ~just abt proving himself (tho its v much that too!!!) its also a coping mechanism #and he's lowkey terrified every single day of his life and now im really sad #i honestly didn't think he was so aware of all that laksjdflkjslf #about #also if you're wondering what he was searching for in her face -- he just wanted to see a lil faith in him #that's all he really wants from anyone #and its all he never gets from anyone #if anyone anyone showed a lil faith in him or a lil love for him -- god forbid -- he'd go to the ends of the earth for them purely for that

[hihopelessromantics]

making an nnt "god" a concrete thing with lore / biology. substance if you will. because committing to the bit is fun and nakaba missed out

inspired that the idea that not only should Meliodas and Elizabeth have a less human form but Tristan too! I love the different takes on their designs.

chapters cause this is long! and control f is our friend

canon adjacent lore

children of the gods

awakened god designs

the gods' chosen helpers

extra pet theory because I love y'all and I love elizabeth angst

@kalopsiakey @7-ratsinatrenchcoat thank you for helping out with the brainstorming for the tristan and melizabeth 'eldritch forms'! Hope you like the finished product!!

- - - - canon adjacent lore anyone ? - - - - -

In my aus, I usually go with the interpretation that the SD and DK are the latest two in a line of governing deities, with the others dying to various means. And the SD and DK blotted them out from public memory to establish the maximum amount of control for themselves.

In order to govern their realms, I propose it was a long-standing practice that gods would retain only a percentage of their power, and lend out the rest to trusted ones who help them ensure the safety and health of their realm. There might be other groups that the Archangels and Ten Commandments are in charge of!

Theoretically, this would also allow them to retain a form suitable to walk among their people. None of this taller than a castle shtick. Perhaps the DK and SD are physically magnified with their power. Part of their appearance is morphed by their will - the DK's armor, and the veil across the Supreme Diety's face seem to be symbols of their power. They can also be representative of how the DK was seen as an invincible opponent, and how now one knew the SD's true intentions but thought she's "too holy to look upon and find fault in."

To a god, sacrificing and dividing up your power (especially) in a time of peace is symbolic of trust and humility. In war, it could be neccessary to maintain one's prestige and honor as a monarch., Could mean that you value the ability to live as one of your people as one of them rather than as someone they worship.

- - - - children of the gods - - - -

What's the difference between something like the Supreme Diety and her daughter? Biologically, nothing, I'd assume. In nnt, "god" seems to be a state of being, asserted not simply by having power but by coming into your own and claiming it as you.

I propose that the gods are a conduit for that portion of their realm's magic that would otherwise roam freely, and that the other life in that realm has already absorbed, at birth, the limit each individual can handle. Biologically, that is.

For a goddess or demon to maintain that state in Britannia without cracking holes in the fabric of reality, there'd need to be some way to both reign in that power and dilute it down to a level that's manageable for that individual. And there probably are ways. Let's see what happened to Mel. His 'original powers,' when he accepted them, were raw and undivided; additionally, he had no clue how to manage a power influx of that extent and his mind was NOT in a good place to try and manage an extra extreme stressor. And uh. He has priors with letting his demon powers run amock in a destructive manner. If there's also a psychological component to how your godly powers act, that's the first uh-oh. Second uh - oh: he'd maintained complete certainty that unlocking them would have that kind of disastrous consequences for 3,000 years. self-fulfilling prophecies are a thing. especially if you believe that a demon's powers, specifically, their darkness, is deeply involved with their subconscious. Being 'a god' doesn't seem to logically coincide with being helpless. I think the real reason the DK and SD were trapped in their "bubbles" in their respective realms is their refusal to set aside that power, and walk as a simple demon or goddess even temporarily. A lack of will (in the gods' place) or a lack of control (Mel), rather than a lack of possibility. It makes it more interesting, I think!

In that case, the natural disasters we saw after Mel stepped into that power would be a result of the vast amount of demon realm magic accompanying him running completely amock in the wrong realm, interfering with the other magics present and the balance.

- - - - For "awakened god" designs! - - - -

I think Meliodas would want to keep his appearance mostly the same . . . just with more pizazz. Same with Zeldris, he seems to have it down pretty well already judging by his dramatic entrance in 4kota. If they're able to channel their powers well enough for this, I think they'd leave most 'monstrous' features toggled off while using this form except for their aura, and other associated demonic features such as wings, horns, and claws. They'd use the extra power boost to help their darkness roam with more versatility. Perhaps it'd form a tail behind them and coil about their horns and nearby loved ones like decorative, protective wreaths. It might lend a dragonlike flair to Meliodas, with several sets of horns about his face and dragonlike spines; and likewise, for Zeldris, some regal feathers and a simple, elegant floating crown - irremovable but loved - floating like a halo above his head.

I think Elizabeth would gain another pair of wings (if not more), and a dress of light in the same theme as Meliodas's assault mode outfit. She would have a magnificent crown of light, and she would hate it, she would complain that she didn't even wear a crown at her wedding, why does her magic think she'd want one? and she'd tear it off. every time. Maybe one day she'll accept it. Her brother-in-law tells her it's a symbol of how she'd given her heart, blood and breath to her realm, and to protecting the peace in Britannia, and that it's something she earned. But all she can see is this form is more grandiose than her mother's ever was, regardless of how much more like herself it looks than like some plain, no-faced worship-demanding statue. (That's how Meli describes her mother). Maybe one day! In the meantime, she released most of her original magic back to the Celestial Realm to assist in its revival. And covers up the crown with ribbons her husband sewed for her whenever she's prepping for a serious battle.

The special feature I came up with for what I'm calling Tristan's "awakened god form" is based on a biblical angel's wheels of eyes. That, except Twinkle stars, bright as a goddess's magic but as maneuverable as darkness, and they point in whichever direction he's focused on.

Wings would be feather-based, with darkness that weaves around them like the tounges of flames.

I think even the most high-level demons and goddesses would have less humanlike teeth in the back of their mouths accompanying their molars. Maybe just a little sharper, and much more durable. Maybe a second or third row of teeth that gets less prominent or even more retractable as it nears the lips. sharks come to mind. I'm jealous of their teeth. Why are ours so flimsy. Anyway. 7 rats proposed a demon / goddess child's noticably inhuman teeth might be like that of an anglerfish. Interesting idea.

Like. Uh- puts on a poetic narrator voice Like a wide smile, almost uncannily wide but almost like the way you walk with your feet pointed outward and not an emotion. And when he moves his mouth to speak or frown you can see little gleaming edges along his jaw like a set of jewels in a necklace. You're not sure what they are. Like spikes or horns but… from within. That ought to be decorative, you think, but you've thought the same about the demons’ sets of horns and their fangs and now that you think about it, the shapes surrounding the powered-up goddesses'… is they really magic or something supernatural beyond your mind’s comprehension. . . ?

As for the eyes - dark, demon-colored with swirling golden triskeles in the center. Since in normal form he already has the duality - and it makes sense considering how goddess and demon powers present themselves in their eyes - I think hiding the heterochromia in his eldritch form would make it more horrifying. Like, now we are stepping away from physics into what a “god” is in this universe. The darkness spills out of his eyes like the whisps of dry ice ofc!

- - - the gods' chosen helpers: examinating the the SD's blessings and the DK's curses - - - -

3/4 Archangels' Graces channel a certain element of nature: wind (Tornado), water (Ocean), light (Sunshine), with Ludociel's Flash being the odd one out. I propose this is because Ludociel has such a tainted mindset the only Grace that would take him is the one representing swift, determined action (because hehe). The Ten Commandments, unlike the Graces, have a further element of control - their double-edged nature - suggesting the DK isn't as thorough of a manipulatior (deadbeat hehe) as the SD and cannot rely on his command alone to gain 100% of the TC's focus. There's been clear tampering with the power it gives them, and less trust; they're artificial compared to the Graces, one of which was said to have chosen Escanor of its own free will. As for what they can do - they represent values that are considered virtues. Except for purity. what the hell does Derieri's purity do again? Not that she NEEDS that extra power, for the love of god the brute force trauma of this woman's second blow would probably cause permanent damage. Anyway, love forces those with hatred in their hearts to stand down from a fight (objectively not a bad thing), truth does the truth thing, etc.

These are not neccessarily combat-focused powers, though they are used and intended as such. It's not a stretch to say they could be utlized in a different manner in times of peace. The Demon Realm has probably countless small villages and intellegent species for the King to oversee and keep the peace between. It makes sense for him to have more vassals from that standpoint. Meanwile, the Celestial Realm from what we can tell has fallen into disrepair without the routine care of its people. I'm gonna go ahead and headcanon that the natural phenomenon here is at least as 'extreme' in human terms as the demon realm's, and that effectively managing a system of islands in the sky with probably dozens of intellegent migratory creatures like sky fish, etc. does take some supernatural effort. And that most of the goddess population here is centralized in one main area. Pretty much all nakaba has given us is an implied lack of diversity in the celestial realm (why everyone look like that except for Tarmiel) (it's fine we can make the creatures ourselves). Anyway. A not-double-edged-sword version of the Commandments and the current Graces could be repurposed to aid in civil relations (people), and enviornmental mangement (nature) respectively.

-- - - - - extra! pet theory as to why Elizabeth is an only child - - - -

I have a pet theory for my holy war au that Elizabeth wasn't made like a human child and is, rather, a genetic clone the SD shaped of herself (think shaping a living being out of clay) as well as just one in a succession of rebellious (and very dead) attempts at the perfect daughter. This is why there's only one of her, while Meliodas has a sibling, and why she's older than Meliodas. Until Elizabeth, there was no proof that what the SD and DK wanted could be managed without serious consequences. The SD learned that just having the one is important for the amount of control she wants over her daughter. She only has so much patience, and the sisters tended to back each other over her. Thank - well, herself - that they were so young. . . all those times. This is why the DK insisted on totally eliminating his children's emotions; he thinks so long as they don't care for one another, and don't even think to, he can manage as many as he wishes. Otherwise, he thinks the SD is a loon who failed like four times in succession, and refuses to acknowledge that he specifically waited for her to succeed, "learning" from her mistakes, before having his own children.

#tristan liones #tristan #i have so much mutual-brewed lore from the summer I come back here and get whiplash from the canon #and i can hear my tumblr drafts planning a revolt #oop - #eldritch horror #i feel like this isn't eldritch enough but would they choose to be? Idk. and I feel like they should get to choose. as a treat. #elizabeth just wants to keep her royal cottage core and homely knight vibes sometimes is that too much to ask #is that the torture you had in mind for ellie #demon king #supreme diety #four knights of the apocalypse #gods in fiction #mmmm themes #nnt #meliodas #hihopelessromantics writes a drabble #my tags are malfunctioning. why are there three of the thing I just typed once. help me. #i. i hope i didn't forget anything

[imthefemalemonster]

idk how much you go for the ship but aegon x rhaenyra? esp if it's one-sided/fantasies on aegon's part, even a drabble would be amazing! love your writing :)

Aaaah I love this pairing anon, I want to write Rhaenyra so bad because she's in my mind 24/7 - Tried something!

⸻

Rhaegon (Rhaenyra x Aegon) Drabble

❥ Basically smut smut smut (bit of fluff, as a treat) \ Aegon has dirty thoughts when he thinks about Rhaenyra so he has to do something about it.

⸻Not really canon compliant, Kisses, Hugs, Hand job, Incest (obviously), Mommy issues/kink (kinda?), Adult versions of characters

Words: 760~

Hope you enjoy it and don’t hesitate to ask for more. ♡ (and thank you so much, it’s so sweet! Doing my best)

Sometimes, Aegon couldn’t tell the difference between being drunk, exhausted, and aroused. Maybe it was the three of them at the same time, maybe only one, maybe two. Maybe he felt drunk on exhaustion or arousal. All that, all those feelings because of one woman. He would think about her daily, hourly, his eyes and mind wandering during dinner, during the day, and especially during the night. Rhaenyra was everywhere in his mind but nowhere around him, and it tortured him. To forget, he would either drink himself to sleep or jerk-off. Sometimes both. He had never really interacted with her, he had never really interacted with anyone from his family apart from hearing his mother’s sermon and his younger brother’s arms around his body to drag him off the streets.

So when night came, he would sit on his bed, head against the headboard, a glass of wine as his only company. He would close his eyes, breathing slowly losing its regularity as his mind wandered darker paths. There was something about her. Maybe it was the jealousy he was feeling toward her children, bastards getting more love and attention he will ever get. She was a mix between tenderness and intransigence which fascinated Aegon as much as it obsessed him. But stroking his cock until exhaustion thinking about her wasn’t enough. He needed to be touched, he craved the physical contact from that one woman who never left his mind.

As night passed, it became boring, frustrating, annoying. Even as hard as he was, he could not just stand here and wait. He needed a good imagination, and a lot of focus. At first he undressed himself, the soft texture of the sheet caressing his pearl white sensitive skin. Body burning hot, it began with hugs and touches. Rhaenyra would sit at his side, with this cold but comforting smirk on her face. She would run her fingers in his hair, hands slowly moving down to his reddened cheeks. Thumbs pressing against the man’s lips, dry, uncontrollable Aegon would moan, melding at the touch. Length hard, shaky hands going from the base to the top, Aegon bit his lips, enjoying the delightful thought. Leaning in, the woman’s delicate touch would send shivers down Aegon’s spine when reaching his neck, fingernails needily scratching the skin. Roaming down his chest, brushing his pink sensitive nipples, he would be panting in seconds, crying out for physical contact.

He thought that Rhaenyra would love teasing him until he felt at his knees begging, and if he could, he would without hesitation. Rubbing his member against her leg like a dog, seeking tenderness and attention from the mother. She wasn’t his, but she felt like one. Strong, loving, delicate, reassuring. He would adore seeing her in a position of power over him. Laid on the bed, she would welcome him close with open arms. His head resting on her breast, thighs still rubbing against her, moaning. She would cup his cheeks, leaning in, pressing a soft but confident kiss on his heated lips. Hard in his hand, erratic movements and noisy pleas, he would imagine her leading those kisses. Biting his lips, finger digging in his cheeks, his necks, leaving marks he hoped would never leave. Licking his lips, pushing against them, he would let her tongue in, swirling around his own, obscene noises of saliva and mouth clashing. Irregular breathing that would mix with the hot bodies and needy cries.

As she raked her nails across his hair, Aegon imagined his own hand being hers. Soft fingers, softer palm. Undoing his pants, freeing the pressure he had inside. Stroking gently but with strong confidence, thumb pressing against the top, playing with the King’s precum until he was just but a sobbing mess. Going from base, to top, harder, faster, he would grind his hips in her touch, fuck himself relentlessly, no shame but only motherly love and passion. Good boy. He dreamt she would whisper in his ear as he was coming inside her hand. Milking him till the last drop while he was breathless, drowning in pleasure. Brushing their lips, she would clean him, tuck him in his bed, leaving him with a soft kiss on the forehead.

Aegon let go of his cock, both satisfied and frustrated. A nice dream it was, now he was all but messy, semen all over his hand and belly, and no Rhaenyra in sight to come and take care of him and all his dirtiest desires.

#ask #anon #first time doing this it was cool! #hope you like it and i didn't misunderstand the request <3 #drabble #rhaegon #rhaenyra x aegon #aegon x rhaenyra #smut #**mine #when i typed “rhaenyra” in gifs and it was all daemon (??) bro

[tobias-hankel]

"Spencer, what did you do?"

TW Drug use, overdose but no MCD

"Spencer, what did you do?" Spencer heard from the doorway, barely conscious.

What did I do? Where even am I? A bathroom? How did I get here? I thought I was at work. Spencer thought to himself, struggling to keep his eyes open but it didn’t matter either way, his vision was too blurry to make sense of anything around him. He heard yelled though. A lot of yelling.

“Emily! Get Hotch! Someone call 911! Damn it! Kid stay with me, okay?”

Morgan? Is that Morgan? Why would someone need to call 911? Spencer felt someone roll him over on the cold tile floor. He hadn’t even realized he was on the floor until then.

“Spencer, talk to me kid. Come on, keep your eyes open,” Morgan said as he moved Spencer around.

Spencer felt Morgan touch his arm, an odd feeling – like someone removing an IV, and a release of pressure around his upper arm. Oh yeah… I came to the bathroom to get high… Spencer thought as he vaguely saw Morgan cap the needle he had used and set it to the side. I took less than normal… How… Am I overdosing? Spencer thought before his world faded out again.

“Morgan, what happened?” Hotch asked as he rushed into the bathroom, already moving to kneel by Spencer, checking his pulse.

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I saw Reid go to the bathroom like 10 minutes ago, so I came in here to check on him and he was on the floor with a needle sticking out of his arm. Is he going to be okay?” Morgan asked in a panic.

“Reid, Reid! Can you hear me?” Hotch asked, shaking Spencer some. “Prentiss is on the phone with 911. He isn’t answering but he still has a pulse.”

Spencer started to hear people talk around him and he started to come to again, “What…” he mumbled out as he tried to understand what was happening again.

Morgan let out a sigh of relief when Spencer said something, “Just keep your eyes open okay, Reid? Help is on the way.”

Hotch could see the dazed confusion on Spencer’s face, “Reid, you are in the bullpen’s restroom. You overdosed. Can you tell me what you took?”

Overdosed… Heroin… It must have been laced with something else… Spencer thought, taking a second to realize he never said anything. “Her… heroin.” Spencer forced out.

“It might have been laced with fentanyl,” Hotch said, having come to the same conclusion but Morgan’s mind was somewhere else. He had no idea Spencer was using, but it seemed like Hotch knew to some degree, so this had to have been happening for some time.

“ ‘m sorry…” Spencer slurred out and Morgan took a hold of his hand while Hotch moved a strand of hair out of his face.

“We will make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”

--

I'm a slow writer but feel free to drop me a 5 sentence ask or a prompt in my ask box 🖤 Btw, I don't always go in order.

#Thank you Maya! #maze's drabbles #drabble #criminal minds fanart #criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #could be seen as #hotchreid #moreid #or horreid #or none #up to you #drug addict spencer #more than 5 sentences #1mechanicalalligator ask #i didn't proofread this #I feel like I'm missing a tag

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

Giratina is often said to be Arceus' last child. By extension, this must make Palkia and Dialga the first and second.

Herein arises a problem, a longstanding debate, and its eventual resolution. Neither time nor space can be said to be greater or more important than the other; therefore, the two are held to be twins.

---

Volo's plan is quite simple. The meddling of Sinnoh's lesser servants cannot be tolerated. They must be dealt with somehow. And he knows of no limiter more effective—no chains more tightly binding, no prison more perfectly restrictive—than a human body.

The Pearl Clan's newest visitor—Ingo, if that is his name, though there's always that lingering uncertainty about it—he isn't sure how to answer any other questions about himself, either. His knowledge of Hisui is too strangely absolute for a newcomer. It suggests long familiarity with the territory—but if that's the case, why does nobody else in the region recognize him?

Irida presents the Lustrous to him, once, as is tradition.

It is agony.

Just standing in its presence is a pressure like the bottom of the deepest ocean, like a singular force bearing down on him without mercy. To touch it is—he suddenly feels as though his body cannot possibly contain him, like something is pulling him to pieces—the light of the pearl is blinding—

To provoke a reaction from Sinnoh's treasure is a sign of divine recognition. It usually isn't... like... that. But still, if you ignore that discrepancy—and the Pearl Clan is nothing if not good at ignoring discrepancies—it can only mean good things for a warden. Right?

---

Deities move on a glacial scale, or so it seems at times to humans. Nevertheless, imprisoning a god—binding it to a human form to prevent its intervention—cannot be without consequence. Nor will it go unnoticed by its fellows.

It takes Hisui a long time to notice, but reality has... gone strange. Eroded. The seas stretch on endlessly. Mount Coronet is a spear against a yawning void. The winter has become eternal; days are short and nights are long, and the more time passes—though perhaps that phrase is not so apt—the less rhyme or reason there is to the changing of the celestial bodies.

And far beyond, in a realm above both time and space, a once-dual, now-singular god rages...

#the nemesis speaks #swift writes #pokefic pitch #it is. SO late and i should not be awake. but do you ever just get slapped in the face with an idea #yes im sure someone else has pitched something like this DON'T CARE DIDN'T ASK #anyway #intentionally sort of vague bc i have a couple nebulous thoughts on how this could go #ingo is almost definitely palkia in this drabble and i like the thought of the pearl clan unknowingly #harboring their Deity. that's fun. #but there's also something very fun about him being *dialga* instead #and then there's the question of where the persona of ''ingo'' comes from. is that just the form palkia took for Reasons? #OR is ingo a Real Human Person who volo summoned via the rift—purely to use as a prison for the god #and now his consciousness is completely crushed and repressed by the deity. #options! #uuuughhh should i tag this with real tags or not ugghgh

[townofcadence]

FORGED, for Caelan please!

Glimpses of the Past (Headcanon meme) FORGED: a scene from my muse's past that they think made them stronger in the long run

Power was a word synonymous with his family.

He never knew a moment without it's presence looming over him. His parents lorded it over their vassals and the lower-born of his cousins. It was the unspoken advantage that garnered equal parts respect and fear of his father and mother, the king and queen. It was the whispered words of any who saw his father with a blade, his mother with her hammer and her silver tongue. A force to be reckoned with, it was an aspect of nobility in his court that was never questioned. If you reached a rank to hold council with his family, you had shed blood enough to paint your seat at the table crimson.

It was him, embodied. The black that bled from his eyes and left his hands and feet numb and spiking with pins and needles. The blood in his veins, tarnished and corrupted beyond salvage, and his sightless gaze, stolen by magic so potent it made him a font of destruction nothing compared to. Barely contained, exponential, unquenchable and excruciating power.

He bore his burden with pride, like a good soldier is meant to.

And that was all he was meant to be. A dagger and a spell and the arm of his monarchs, meant to sever those very limbs of any who opposed them. To cut them at the knees until they bowed. He was a weapon, nothing more.

A tool to be wielded, and discarded once the dust returned to the earth.

He remembered them saying he was lucky for the war. For blood to shed in their name with his unyielding, unfeeling strength. The gratitude they wanted him to proffer at their feet for the sentiment was cold and lifeless. Like him. There was nothing about him that wasn't what they had raised him to be, all sharp edges, and overlapping, impenetrable metals. Their sharpest spellblade, wrapped in silks to conceal what monstrous work it was capable of, hidden until it was time to raze their enemies to ash.

He was power to the point it beat through his veins, and he felt nothing.

Maybe the universe thought it the cruelest joke for all of their hubris, for him to tumble down into the darkest depths, with the greatest enemy at his side.

The first few moments made sense, even in a place like that. He was disoriented, blinded beyond what his usual limited sight already was, but he knew his duty. It was without hesitation that his Damascus blade plunged into the enemy prince, a violently precise wrench of steel to his throat that ended him with ferocious practicality.

He did not walk the caverns long, alone. Threads caught on him like gossamer and it was only when spiders' legs pinned his wings and spiders teeth found his own throat, that he realized the dangers they posed. Poison flooded his veins and burned like something real, and for a beat, he felt true fear. He died with it, the power locked in his body worth nothing but another resource for the thing that killed him to sup on.

And then he woke up.

It was still dark, but he knew the place by the way his shoulder ached like he'd fallen all over again. He recognized the identical groan, from the enemy prince. His knife came out again, ready for a repeat despite the confusion. He needed to do something familiar, something tied to his duty and his very existence. He didn't want to remember the paralyzing fear. The blood.

There was no wound, but the feelings of dying still sat like hot needles in his lungs.

The prince stopped him, begged him not to. He only hesitated when the Prince said he'd seen the spider. The fae that had pulled them down. The prince knew what it looked like, and he knew the two of them were nothing more than a meal to it. The prince remembered last time, what little he survived for, and knew that if they were both here, both remembering that, then he doubted either survived. They both could feel how this place brimmed with magic. And maybe, perhaps, it was more constructive, to collaborate.

He promised the enemy prince a knife in the back once this was over. The man grinned, and agreed. The whole exchange left him with another feeling to contend with; Bafflement.

And he continued to baffle. It seemed almost a game to him, the way he'd laugh at their hopeless situation. He was good only for his strength, and here it was nothing, moot. He almost felt more lost inside than he did in the labyrinth of stone tunnels, spun white from spiders' silk he could hardly see, that dampened any echo. What was his worth if he could not survive? He had tried, more than his fair share of times, to fell the spider. And when inevitably he failed from the advantage it had in its home, it learned; it discovered his strengths, and used them against him, or accounted for them, each time it cast whatever it did to reset him and the enemy prince.

If the thing that hunted them slaughtered them for food on repeat, and all his power wasn't enough to escape this place, then he was...lost. What was he, without his strength? All his life was devoted to this one purpose. What was he worth, now that his only purpose seemed to be to serve as a meal?

And here the enemy prince-- Kiran, still found reasons to smile. He was weak, a flirtatious little romeo bound to die with his impulsive antics. He was foolish, carefree, whimsical, and none of his charms or his playful nature saved him when the spider found him. Even if he could admit Kiran did have some skill with a sword, he was still dead.

A useless man, so hoplessly hopeful.

And yet, when compared to an equally useless man with nothing left to define him, wasn't that something?

The night Kiran touched his face, so many deaths later that no sense of time stuck with him, was something... .new. It was a gentle touch, a soft one. He felt that palm crease against his cheek and wipe at streaks of black. The compliments meant nothing, but the hand was warm against his porcelain skin. How could such a small thing shake him so?

He was offered the same action to Kiran, and refused. For a fortnite, he maintained that resistance, before yielding...asking, to do the same. Kiran had smiled, he felt it on his lips when he brushed them. His fingers tingled with it, along the curve of his jaw.

Very symmetrical, was the highest compliment he offered. Kiran seemed to enjoy it. Something about that felt like he was betraying all he knew. And yet it was warm.

The first time Kiran died without him after their truce was....difficult. Anywhere he managed to hide away from the spider was empty, forlorn and so so silent. Kiran, that annoying little man, could do nothing but talk and talk and talk. All he could think in his absence was how silent it was. The light Kiran glittered with gave him some semblance of sight, no matter how minuscule. Being without him was being plunged into nothingness. It was being home, in a way that made his heart shake and shrivel.

He didn't want home. He--- what did he want?

He knew. He knew. He knew and for all his power he didn't have the words to say it.

He fed himself to the spider to see his light again, because Kiran's presence was better than being alone. When Kiran discovered his choice, hearing the spider jeer of his 'giving up', he asked him why, and he still lacked any true answer. Kiran.... gave him something. Something strange and warm and different from anything his life had ever given him. Something that made the sacrifice worth the sorrow.

Kiran behaved as if he had sung sweet nothings in his name, and he's shoved him away at that, but the laughter stuck with him, as did the song of apology Kiran offered. What was it, he was feeling, more and more around this enemy prince that...was not such an enemy? He hated it and yearned for it and hated that he did. But still he couldn't help himself. Maybe it was Kiran's light.

Kiran figured it out, a thousand deaths later, before he did. Hope, he'd called it. A death worth dying for a chance for a better tomorrow. That maybe, the antics gave him something to hold on to, when a maze like this was liable to drain any life that set foot inside.

He didn't agree, said nothing. Kiran's ego hardly needed nursing. Kiran hung on his shoulders as he said it, and whispered it between them. It was warm, a body laying against his back, and he sat still as stone, frown carved to his features unbending. He did not nod, he did nothing, until Kiran slipped off to find food. But he sat there still, even after the light was dim and faded, unmoving.

The pieces were in place. He couldn't look away.

Kiran was....special. Kiran was light. And Kiran was his hope. He knew the word, but didn't know it---felt like this. A space he belonged to, that was not in his family's hand. He was--- powerless, to it. To the warmth. But he yearned for it when it left him. Yearned for that foolish man's joy. It sapped his strength, but it was worth more than he lost. And he.... didn't want to lose it.

How strange. To want something. But Kiran was soft, and he was warm, and it was almost a kinder world down here with him than any other he'd walked through.

He would say he cared for him, perhaps, if he was capable of that. But he was pragmatic. Kiran had value, beyond words, beyond skill.

He was still a weapon, still forged and sharp. But the hand that once cut Kiran down, would--- he would protect him. They would leave together, somehow, or he would deliver Kiran from this place with his final breath.

Caelan had sworn himself to that.

#Keyink Icon #caelan hedeon #kiran #ask meme answers #drabble meme #drabble #my original writing #my original stuff #didn't really go into a scene exactly but i like how it came out and i hope you do too <3 #caelan #long post #ryouscared

[savage-rhi]

🫂😪

#hey I've been on a bit of a hiatus with writing and other projects #answering this cause ive had some anons asking for updates on drabble requests #leaving a toxic job that I endured for a year #getting a new job and new enviornment #finding out I had a whole ass other family I didn't know existed #and trying to keep up with the cost of living has taken a huge toll #on my mental health and wellbeing #to the point where I had to take time off my new job and go on a peer respite #i got back the other day and I'm doing better #but my mental health isn't 100% #and my chronic pain has been fluctuating a lot cause of stress #i know i don't owe anyone details about what i go through #but i like being transparent #and this makes it easier than answering 6-10 anons asking me for an update #i am not sure when im gonna fulfill drabble requests but they'll come when they come #and you can keep sending in stuff i dont mind it at all #just know i gotta take care of me right now #and I'll be slower answering stuff #take care of your mental health and bodies the best you can #im always rooting for ya #and to end on a good note #i got accepted into a masters program for clinical counseling and therapy #only 25 people could get in and somehow i got it #idk how im gonna get financial aid for it but im gonna try #im excited and nervous #i might have more vo stuff coming too idk yet but im trying not to do too much at once #if yall could do me a solid and drop something cool in the comments and let me know how your life is going id love that #especially if you got good news to share #i could use more of that right now #love you guys and here's a hug and a biscuit from me

[extra-somethin-somethin]

nooooo don't think about kuwabara picking up smoking when yusuke leaves for makai as something to remember him by you're so sexy hahah

#''i don't smoke except for when i'm missing you'' headass #god. it's just one of those days #he comes home from school. he hasn't seen kurama in a while but he'll probably swing around some time #he can't explain it. it's not like the day had been terrible. it was productive even. killed it during his presentation #but of course there's always something missing. he just doesn't usually feel it as much as today. #shizuru is smoking on the steps. and he asks her for a cigarette. she stares at him. ''you don't smoke.'' #even so she hands it over. maybe she sees something that tells her it's pointless to question or even refuse #her brother used to nag her for her smoking constantly. now he's joining her. she puts her own out suddenly not in the mood. she watches. #kazuma coughs but not too much. he's practically a natural. shizuru is gonna kill that urameshi. #she doesn't of course. kazuma is too happy to see him. lucky brat. she sees the guy pat his pockets before kazu passes him a cig #yusuke looks at him strangely. ''since when do you smoke?'' ''i don't.'' it's not like kazuma to lie. though she supposes #it's not like him to smoke either. besides...something tells her that as long as yusuke's here it's not a lie at all #didn't mean to drabble in the tags but i had to share my vision

[geometricalien]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ❤

awww thank you for including me. this has just been sitting in my box for the past couple of days but HERE I AM- in no particular order:

This doesn't really have a name... It's just called Merman AU

and it's not a 'fanfic' it's half a collection of headcannons for this AU and half snippets from this idea that I posted on tumblr at @haikyuu-aus-cuz-i-cant-write (oops look who has actually written now jfdksalf) basically this is a cross between the little mermaid and the monkey's paw. I really liked this but it was wayyy too big of an idea for me to write and you can see that I stopped after writing Suga's wish which is reallly funny considering this whole idea spawned from wanting a mermaid/human bokuaka AU and i was not near to getting to the meat of the story at all

Things That Hold Us Together: Steel Bolts and Tender Hearts

yes i just recently posted this, yes i've had this in my folders for like 3 years. this one... this was spawned from an old friend - who i don't speak with anymore - offhand comment that a fanart looked like akashi was an android. four hours after they said that i had half of this fic, and they said it was the best writing i ever shared with them. they encouraged me to expand it but i kept hitting a wall and then we had a falling out and through out the years ive been coming back to this trying to add and edit and i decided to reclaim it as my own and publish it. the idea is that it's an introduction to a lighthearted sitcom/romcom between decommissioned war android akashi and engineer who fixed him up furihata

Language Barriers

i cyclically get star trek brainrot and this time it had a dash of akafuri, i really like how i described things in this one since furihata doesn't think in words but emotions and images instead, idk it was a good writing exercise

Horror wip

ive been hemming and hawing at it for literal months now because i have one central driving image behind my eyelids that i want to get to. its just been... harder than usual to get to it. i've rewritten like 3 times trying to get it write. i've currently landed on 2nd person narration with some thrown in spices of 1st person to signify that we are in the being- akashi's- point of view haunting furihata (the you) and its giving me an opportunity to make the reader feel akashi's destroying love from the front seat. my other goal with this is to write some surrealistic imagery soooo yeP

I Will Follow You Down Through The Gates of Hell

i cant not include this. this damn fic/series/idea has been brewing in the back of my mind for so damn long if it was a human child it could hold a fucking conversation. the imagery. the themes. the depth of emotion- AND WE ARE BARELY GETTING INTO THE WAR!? ITS BEEN 50K+ WORDS AND ITS JUST GETTING STARTED (or ending, if you wanna look at it that way) idk its... its been so long since i wrote part 1 that that fic doesn't feel like "mine" anymore? idk but it always makes me smile seeing an email saying that someone else liked the fics too.

#ask box #alienjack #jack #thank youuuu #i watched talk to me and it got me in a writing inspired mood hence why i dusted off a fic and posted it and finally got around to doing #this too #idk... i know they say to write for yourself- and i do!! (mostly) i don't read ocean eyes thats for damn sure- #and i know that all of my akafuri fics are for myself but some of them... #idk. i feel divorced from? does that make sense? a limb chopped off and given away? #like its not mine anymore? #maybe its just because they have themes i don't resonate with at the moment... maybe bc i didn't do them complete justice? #im not sure #do u feel that way at all? or because you are a literary person you feel more connected to your words #than i do... #some people need to write. they need to express thoughts and feelings or they will combust. they need to pluck words from the air #and sing them in song for the heart. #im im not liek that. #at least. that feeling that driving inspiring consuming feeling doesn't rest on me often. #there is one writing. one little drabble that i wrote while in my emotions that... that is mine. #maybe thats the difference. #as much as i have written. its a mimicry. a mockery of plot and feelings. things i have seen and read elsewhere. #i couldn't place my hand and breathe life into an emotion i haven't felt. not true emotion. #maybe i should just go to bed instead. #sORRY #lil rant

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

80. and make it SImbar with a pinch of Pelfi and Jazmin

80. Someone attempts to do some work

After a lot of drama and unnecessary struggles, Ámbar was back as a boss at Jam and Roller. She was currently doing some paperwork. She sighed.

As if this was his cue, Simón slid down next to her. "Are you struggling? Need some help?"

"I'm just trying to finish this paperwork... but it's not going well."

Simón put his arm around her shoulders. "How hard can it be?"

Pedro meanwhile made some milkshakes, as Delfi ran into the room.

"Woah!" he exclaimed, "What's the rush?"

"Jazmin is chasing me with her tablet. She wants an interview and I have said no-"

"Delfiiiiii!" someone called from a distance.

"Cover me!" Delfi said and jumped behind the counter to hide. She then briefly looked up at Simón and Ámbar. "You two cover for me, too!" With that, she ducked right back down.

A few seconds later, Jazmin came skipping into the room. "Hi, guys! Have you seen Delfi?"

"Nope," Pedro said.

"Haven't seen her," Ámbar added.

"I don't think I even know of her existence," Simón added.

"Oh well... then maybe I can interview one of you instead!" Jazmin exclaimed.

"Not me, I have work to do," Ámbar said.

"Can't you do the work later?"

"The longer I wait, the more stressed I'll get. So I need to do it now."

"Simón?"

"I'm helping Ámbar."

"Pedro?"

"No." Pedro looked down on the floor, making sure Delfi was covered. However, Jazmin found this behavior to be strange.

"Why are you looking down on the floor?"

"I didn't," Pedro said, "I was just... moving my head around."

"Why?"

"Because... people do that?"

"Can you keep it down, I'm trying to work!" Ámbar exclaimed.

"Why aren't you telling Simón that?" Jazmin asked.

"Because Simón is quiet and doesn't bother me."

"Aww! So he makes you calm! Oh, can I ask you how you're enjoying your relationship?"

"Maybe later," Simón said as Ámbar tried to create some sort of focus bubble, ignoring all the chaos around.

"Pedro, can I interview you and Delfi about your relationship?"

"If you can find Delfi..." Pedro said.

"Right! Where is she? She ran from me!"

"I don't know..."

Jazmin raised an eyebrow. "Something is fishy here..."

She stared right into Pedro's eyes, as if she tried to solve the mystery by just staring at him. Then she slowly walked around the counter until she was on the side where you walk in. She stared at the floor, noticing Delfi awkwardly sitting here.

"There you are! Why are you playing hide and seek?"

Delfi stood up, clinging onto Pedro. "Please, I don't want an interview, Jazmin!"

Jazmin walked closer to her. "Pleeeeaaaase?"

"Alright!" Ámbar stood up, gathering her papers. "I can't be here."

"Where are you going?" Jazmin asked.

"I'm gonna do the paperwork at my house!"

"I'll come with you," Simón said.

"Ooooh, you're going home together!" Jazmin said in a flirty tone. This caused Pedro and Delfi to let out some chuckled.

"I'm just gonna help her with paperwork," Simón said.

"Alright! Good luck with 'doing paperwork'!" Jazmin held up air quotes at the last word.

Ámbar rolled her eyes. She took Simón's hand. "Let's go."

#fun fact I sat and wrote a bit of this while on a seminar in uni #we discussed some book and whenever I didn't have anything to add in the discussion I was like 'let's write some fics' #so you could say I too attempted to do some work >:D #drabbles #thanks for the ask! #soy luna

[ulirblood]

The most intangible things take the longest to prepare.

Even as the date approaches, even with all of his practice under Lady Deirdre's tutelage, as diligent as his practice with the bow had been all his life, Andrei remains unsure of his decision. It would be easier, he knows, to simply acquire a trinket with his limited funds, as he had the previous year. There would be no chance of failure, and Edain would accept it, would appreciate it, would find it meaningful.

(After all, she expects so little of you that anything you have to offer would be a pleasant surprise.)

But it wouldn't have been as meaningful, not to him. He'd known what he'd wanted to do, had known ever since his ill-fated return to Jugdral had been a failure. If he cannot be allowed to rectify his mistakes... he would at least attempt something truly right and good, for once. Even at the risk of Edain not quite understanding the significance of such a gesture, coming from him, it is something he needs to do.

And so it is with this conviction that he seeks her out. "There's... something I'd been practicing, that I wanted to show you," he says, the only explanation he gives before reaching out with palm up, a silent gesture for her to take his hand. Should she comply, Edain would find her brother's fingers, slightly cold to the touch as usual, closing over hers. A beat of silence, then—

Warmth, and a soft, white glow, blooming over her hand.

It's easier to cast a Heal spell without the presence of a physical wound. It's what beginners are set to practice, over and over, until they are deemed ready to work their magic on living beings needing treatment. For all intents and purposes, this is not a difficult task for Andrei, who had worked tirelessly to master the spell in the lessons given to him. Still, his expression holds the same utter concentration as when he'd shot his first arrow, under Brigid's watchful eyes.

(This is important, so he cannot fail. A sentiment unchanged across time and circumstance, for better or for worse.)

The light finally dissipates. Andrei squeezes Edain's hand, his own still warm from the lingering magic. A small, inadequate repayment for the kindness she'd given him since their reunion, but an earnest attempt all the same.

"It's not really much of a present, but..." he trails off. It's not a present, but at the same time, it's what he'd wanted to show her. That she'd left a mark on him, one as potent as that of Lady Sister Brigid, though he'd been blind to it nearly all his life. That he sees her, that he'd always seen her, as important, even if he'd tried his hardest to convince her — and himself — otherwise. That her faith in him isn't completely in vain, despite how much he might stumble.

That he would choose to take her hand, as long as she is still willing to extend it to him.

"...Happy birthday, sister."

once upon a time her brother had berated her at the thought of her becoming a priestess. there wasn’t anything to be had in nunhood, he would have scoffed a long time ago. how would they find lady sister if not as a bow knight of the beige ritter?

and she had subscribed to that idea too, for a long while— for longer than she should have, perhaps. she’d grown up dreaming of becoming an esteemed knight of the beige ritter— with no mark of ullr, there should be nothing else for her. yet she learned the role of the priestess, ones who did not hurt but healed. women and men serving bragi and the crusaders and using that faith to help the people around them. she was never the religious sort beyond her appreciation for her ancestor and crusader ullr. yet still, edain knew she wanted to be part of that. andrei at that time would still have insisted that the bow is the only path for them.

but maybe, just perhaps, what if ullr was telling her to follow her heart?

it was those few gran that she spent in agony, constantly wondering if the bow was how she wanted to help people. if the bow was the only way that she would ever see her twin sister, or if there was some other way that they would be reunited. 

that’s why she remembers far too vividly andrei’s confession of hatred after she had said she would go into nunhood and become a priestess. he’d accused her of giving up— as if such a thing was ever possible for lady edain of yngvi.  the announcement had ended up in tears and their separation, with andrei telling her that he hated her.

she remembered that moment for a long long time, could never quite get rid of that memory forever. with time she had managed to justify the memory— they were both kids with a lost sibling people were giving up on finding, how could they ever have been expected to communicate properly? the maturity was not there. their decisions were informed by the trauma of losing their dearest sister. all sorts of little statements to herself as if to keep herself sane.

but still, it stuck in her mind despite her best efforts to not let it affect her emotional health. it wasn’t until she met up with him in fodlan after belhalla that she had finally gotten closure on that relationship. he had never said it out loud, but she knew that her brother had really loved her the entire time. first it had been the way he had said he didn’t hate her— and then it had been his recurring presence now for her birthday. little things that had her believing he loves her that added up over the last few gran.

it is safe to say that their relationship is doing far better now than it was doing only ten gran ago. still, she does not expect him to ever take interest in her faith and her profession— and that she would never blame him for. she recognized how different it was from their ancestor’s way of handling things, after all. how different it was for a yngvi to go into healing, of all things. even her sisters of nunhood had scoffed at the idea of a noble princess like herself becoming a priestess until she proved herself to them.

so when he takes her hands and tells her there is something he wants to show her, she does not know what to expect. she looks down, larger more calloused hand embracing her own soft and dainty one. the warmth of a heal spell does not quite hit her right away.

but when it does, her eyes widen in surprise. she looks up to see the concentrated expression on andrei’s face. the very same one she used to see at the training grounds in the duchy of yngvi when he would pull the string of his bow back. “andrei…” she whispers his name in disbelief in the brief silence between the two of them. it’s not really much of a present, he says.

he could not be more wrong. “you…” she swallows and looks down at the ground, shaking her head as she feels tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “you idiot. this means the world to me.”  did he know what this really represented for her?

it was once again more evidence that he loves her, but this piece larger than anything she’s seen from him before. a reminder that she was seen for what she believes in and a reminder that she was not the only one putting effort into their relationship. 

“thank you.” she sniffles briefly, pulling her hand away and moving in closer to hug him tight and bury her head into his  shoulder. she did not even stop to think where he’d learned this from, only the meaning behind it all. “this is the best present you could have given me, brother.”

#{ birthday 2023. } #{ ic. } #{ i swear to god i didn't plan on this reply becoming this long oh my god } #{ UHHH YAY YNGVIS SAD PARTY EMOJI } #{ read more because im literally fucking insane and this reads more like a drabble if anything } #{ also if youre seeing this you can absolutely still send edain birthday asks. i WILL answer them even if theyre “late” }

[peachsayshi]

if sukuna is immortal in the way you claim me then how will he deal with the idea of the reader being mortal? 🥹 is rai also a mortal? idk why i thought about this and got upset. sukuna is in for a big heartbreak 😭

ahh, my heart </3 I'm going to have to keep this one simple to answer your question anon: it's the one thing sukuna is scared of the most 🥺 he already knows that humans are much weaker than he is, and the reader's mortality is not something he's completely ready for. However, I do think they are both waiting to see if Rai may potentially show any qualities from his father to know exactly what he is.

🍑💌 mail

#I'm sorry I didn't go into a lot of detail anon but I am just a little sensitive to the topic of loss at the moment #I do appreciate this ask because it is something I think about off and on when writing these too! #two not too* #but I'm just not in the best headspace to write heavy angst like this yet <3 #the way you claim me #dad sukuna drabbles #peach and secret friends.🍑🧡 #readers.🧡 #tw death mention

[kanerallels]

Heck. I reached my word count for the day, but I'm actually kinda vibing with the idea of continuing with this project for a while. Someone tell me whether I should keep going with this one or start working on another

#i have some fan fic i'd like to work on #especially my christmas drabbles #(and this kastle fic) #(ssssh you didn't hear that) #but also i'm getting some good and fun work done #hazel rambles about her original writing #also no one ask me what my daily word count is it's super embarrassingly low #(i don't really care if you ask)

[dangerous-advantage]

writing warm-up

prompt: mikey, raph, and leo complain about the heat. time taken: 43:04 (oops) word count: 452

"Urgh," Leo groaned. "It's so hot."

The turtles were splayed out across the concrete top of a building, laying on their stomachs and sides. The sky above was an unyielding blue, filtered through the thin layer of smog that offered nothing but a distinct, smoky aftertaste to each breath.

Billboards buzzed and blinded, advertising restaurant chains and insurance. 'Have a coke and a smile!' 'Fly the friendly skies of United.' 'Great Wolf Lodge -- Bringing joy to families. All together.'

The sound of midday traffic faded into the backdrop of the city, voices shouting back and forth mixing with sirens in the distance. Up here, the sun beat down on their shells with little care for it's burn. The wind they had hoped to find high up on the rooftops was stubbornly absent, nothing more than a few half-baked attempts at a breeze.

"It's been three hours, he has to be done by now," Leo whined.

"I dunno, Leo," Raph replied, fanning himself with a large, red sensu fan. A dragon in shining black ink weaved across it's folds as if scaling a mountain, jaw outstretched in a yawn. "You know how Dee gets when he's doin' tech installation. A single misstep and we get a repeat of The Incident of '14."

A collective shudder passed through the group.

"I see your point," Leo admitted, rolling onto his stomach. "But also-- you couldn't even let me take my comic book? I'm right in the middle of "Jupiter Jim: Return to Shiroshi!"

"The sooner we got out, the better," Raph stated. He dipped his chin in a solemn nod.

"He'd better be installing a new air conditioner," Leo grumbled, but offered nothing more, languishing in dramatic silence.

"Hey!" Mikey piped up, sitting up. He'd been watching the street from above, arms crossed beneath his chin. "I know what we could do!"

Raph and Leo glanced over.

Mikey pointed over the edge. "Let's go to the aquarium!"

"Urgh, no thanks," Leo groaned. "Right now, the only thing I want to see swimming is myself."

"And plus, we don't have our disguises," Raph added. "Sorry, buddy."

Mikey deflated a little, drawing Leo's eye.

"Hey, wait a minute," Leo said, sitting up. "That's not a bad idea! Why don't we go swimming?"

"That sounds great, Leo, but uh, where exactly?" Raph asked. "Unless you're looking to take a dip in the Hudson, we're not exactly spare any secluded beaches."

"Actually," Leo mused, "I was thinking something a little more..."

"Biocompatible?" Mikey quipped.

"Flashy?" Raph deadpanned.

Leo's mouth took on a slight curve, fingers across the hilt of one of his katanas. Glancing across the street, he set his eyes on one of the billboards.

"How about... splashy?"

(@thecoralkids i have no fucking clue why, but it ate your ask before i could finish answering it, so i'm just making a whole 'nother post lmao. thanks for the ask!! <3)

#ba dum tsss #rottmnt #rottmnt drabbles #dangerous drabbles #bro it took me 5 million years to get to this but then again that is why i asked for prompts #so i could hoard them like a dragon hoarding gold #anyway #if you sent me an ask prompt rest assured i will get to it someday! #they are very helpful for getting the creative juices flowing #didn't read back through this so i apologize for any glaring errors lmao #my writing #can you tell my understanding of new york comes entirely from percy jackson? /j /lh

[gazelessmenagerie]

|| Previous || 

His head weighed heavily upon the tormented surface of the pillow, dry eyes creaking open just slightly for irritation to nag for the open air hitting upon the sclera. Dry groans snorted in ire, stiffly pushing himself off the soft surface and examine his side..

No surprise was to be had to see the gnarled branch still firmly speared into his side, the flesh surrounding, however, festered from being unattended for however long he’s spent laying in a tormented slumber. Inflammation and swelling stared angrily back at him, nerves relaying throbbing pain with the attempt to sit upwards before an abrupt spike drilled straight to his brain with the compression of torn flesh and muscle. Several sharp hisses hotly snarled between clenched teeth, filtering the air in shallow breaths as a fumbling mind took time to awaken while pondering what to do from here.

Dragging a hand down his face, multiple iterations of swears left his tongue upon the notion there would be no other way to handle this easily. This backwater world had medicines but nothing that he was familiar with than distinct smelling applications and what bits and pieces he gleaned during his small excursions into the cities and towns to amuse himself.

What he wouldn’t give just to drag himself into a healing tank and be done with it..

Shaking his head, another glance to the redness of the furious wound earned nothing short of a scornful glare before the Brute staggered his way to the edge of his bed and slowly levitated off in a hover over the floor. Better to not aggravate anything if he could help it and limping around with his injured leg was pathetic. Sluggishly, he made his way towards one of the rooms carved by his own hand, being mindful to avoid overexertion while he rummaged through and popped off various containers to have a small whiff and decide if it was what he was looking for or not. Muttering to himself, there wasn’t much else to dwell on as he gathered materials after he found the distinct scents and took them with him to other parts of his lair. The last stop had been to a private stash of bright red apples, earning a snurl of his lip before he took a decent portion of them and retreated back to his bed chamber and braced himself for what needed to be done..

.. It’s been so long..

   ..Far too long since he had to tend to himself like this during his childhood..

Granted, it never got to this level of grievous damage but even then he had his father around. A quiet growl exhaled softly from nostrils, finding a comfortable spot and position as he leaned his head back and reflected on faint memories. The time he had an arrow in his leg faded into focus, painful but how it was handled became his guiding notion as he looked down on the impaled wood.

Another grit of his teeth, powerful hands took care to break off as much of the excess material as possible after an attempt to pull it out the way it came caused splinters to threaten more damage as they hooked and pierced into flesh. It was as though he were pulling an Orhnyra the wrong way and its spines flared outwards to make it nearly impossible for its predators to swallow it without choking to death. The damage it caused after being pulled back out by one of its predators grappling appendages.. frankly it was an unsavory way to die with a shredded throat while prey escaped back to its natural watery habitat.

Wincing orbs looked towards the sheen of a silvery edge, silently detesting every little thing about it. Taken from its place in what he considered to be a kitchen, it was loathingly needed to make enough of an incision as the glaring edge bit cleanly into heated, irritated flesh and spilled a new line of red. Furious, stunted yelps and abrasive growls rattled within the Brute’s maw, sharp howls tearing free with each incremental inch that was willingly cut into until he could pry the wood free and hurled it away into the darkness in a hollow clatter. Hot blood spilled down his side, fresh and bright to flush out the old blood that had been irritating prior. Perhaps some gratitude might be had that the wood hadn’t stuck itself closer to the meatier portion of his body, otherwise he might’ve had to push it through. At any rate, it took a while for the pain to subside in the face of natural painkillers swarming around at the site as large hands took well to use the materials brought in cleaning the wound and applying disinfectant.

Time became nothing more than a crucible mottled with sneering roars and plenty of new dents and clawed marks gouged into the wall of his dwelling with each agonized minute of searing, sharp, or throbbing pain. As soon as he could steady his hands, another round was taken to pull out any of the smaller bits of wood and stone still lodged into his hide, doing well to clean them before he dressed the glaring wound with clean bandages and got to work on his thigh. Much of the same had to be endured, methodically removing the offending material and flecks of stone and fragments before the wound was cleaned out thoroughly with than infernal sting of disinfectant and at last dressed cleanly enough.

Heavy breaths rapidly filtered past flared nostrils and an open mouth, wrestling with the lingering effects of searing throbs in the aftermath of the vicious ordeal. However, it had been done and now all he had to do was rest once more. 

Rest and recover.. 

                                         Hissing to himself, a hand snatched at one of the bright red demonic apples and ferociously bit into the flesh, eating it down the core even as the potent effects intoxicated him into a numb stupor upon the first bite. Pupils dilated within their onyx hued rings, the perception of his surroundings fell to haphazard images and fragments of strange and bizarre scenes playing out until he fell back to slumber.

#|| Drabble: { Broly } #//ask to tag #( no idea what to tag but I do like having some follow through on like certain events or stuff. afnlsdg ) #( again. i dont get enough times to write injury and all that. afldsjg plus it's just nice to pick out some what-ifs ) #( or vague ideas on things that could plausibly happen but im not sure where or when. ) #( I feel like he had to have been at least resourceful to an extent but once he grew into his power. he had little need bc he was one of the #( strongest things around. still is but lmfaofnldsgj blame getting his shit rocked mentally and reaped the price for what he sowed. ) #( and yes he has a stash of fucking Weed Apples. taken from the Demonic Realm and he just uses them rarely. ) #( its a surprise he didn't get addicted to them but he has used them to cause a city to go haywire and gave them to ) #( certain people bc he thought it was the funniest shit ever and it was. to him. ) #( rip mirin / goten / trunks. you were the unfortunate victims in his stupid pranks among many other people. )

[fleurladari]

      Breath so ragged. Hand curled so tightly around wriggling pest so troublesome, so cause for interruption. Just as children scream for trouble for false for savior such so loud so horrid. For hell, for heaven, for world upon it’s deathly air. So assisting may one try, so terrible such sounds did do to the soul, to the ears that listened in hope to assist, in hope to save. How picking did so little to bring about the truest and purest of desires. 

      Lo, the crumbling stones. Lo, the rushing waters. Lo, the poisoned air. Lo, the people. Lo, the chosen. Lo, the martyr in red.

      So tight did nails like talons dig into green and blue, into sea sunk bed, into endless world in everlasting failure. How one might trip, how one might fall, scrape knees, blood wounds, broken bones. At a lack of movement so briefly lost. Following the lights of all above, following straight through fog amidst a valley of death, amidst an ocean of white. Skin bleached, deafened to the surroundings, to the dripping gold from high on end. How gilded eyes never tamed such enraged abhorrence. For world so disobedient as to willingly surrender, to allow a final cleansing, a last adieu.

      Adieu, adieu. 

      Words so toxic so stuck just outside of dry throat. The world had given an ungrateful reply, Singing notes of dissonance, of a deafened child, of neglectful gazes, of severed searing sails never quite set to sound. 

      Tighter yet, squealing screaming. Powerless, trapped, concealed, inescapable. To describe both, to find the eye in both that stare. In hatred, in love, in regret, in favour. What all had meaning so soon prior. But then but then. What was there now but ashes and ashes. A wild air, a fearless nail, digging digging digging. No escape no, no colours now. No help, no assistance, no willingness. No more.

      Refuse now had nature’s mother yet take blue iris. Nature’s mother yet give, yet provide such meal that would be so aptly incorrect as to refuse. Squeezing, strangling, so enraged by what may be so incomprehensible. A slouched back, a jaw so agape, confused perhaps by distance as the cave’s sired opening. Yet what more had fallen trees been confused for? Yet what more had hanging stone be confused for? Yet what more had starving fool be confused for?

      Teeth so ravaged, so riveting, so powerless. Retaining such instinct as to require a faint of will as one tore into godly retribution. A retribution so deserving to a god as abandoned as to fail to see the truth in thee. So half ripped apart, so completed never to be. Unbenounced to worldly passing. So power so light so crackling desire. Did obsession turn to meaning, to right, to destiny. Lurched back, dripping and dripping. 

      Droplets so dragged down flesh and bone. Deterred yet never running. Steps of hooves approach, curious to see. To see, what colours lie before blank black eye. One corpse, one king. One thing.

      So violent had strike come and gone. Cold as ice, a burning and shock. All at once yet never at all. A meal that not a soul was meant to have. Till now, till now. Had nature not provided? Had gift not been so perfectly wrapped? In gold not gild, nigh false in dress entire. 

      Words fell soft, a finale of unwrapping, a final present to cap upon one’s untapped empire. 

#ic ;; porteur de beauté #drabble ;; de plus en plus et de plus en plus #verse ;; post ;; autorisé à s'envenimer #in case you saw the tags on that other post. #this is why lysandre was gonna snap my neck. if i didn't let him write this. #fuckin stubborn child. #i really should tag this if anyone can actually decipher what's going on in this. #so. #tw: animal death #tw: animal injury #;; ask to tag ;; #tw: gore #tw: body horror #i haven't written like this in a while. i need to get back into it. #it's such a fun way to get out of writers block lol