#◟༺✦༻◞ Echoes of a fallen star ┊Drabble.┊ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reginrokkr · 1 year

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At the edge of time when all dust has settled does the Twilight Sword of old return to where it all began: Irminsul. In its presence he reminisces the hard fights that have been won: against corrupt divine, imposters to the original first gods to exist in Teyvat; against the star-devouring ailment they brought with themselves that was silenced by his hand. When all threads of fate have been re-weaved by the hand of the just and balance betwixt all creatures, short-living and carriers of longevity alike irregardless of their power —for in Teyvat there is no such thing as imbalance in power, divine or human: both are equally as important in this star's health—, a wondering mind questions the All-Knowing that has been ever present in his mind and soul since the beginning of his own existence:

Where did forbidden knowledge come from?

Irminsul always answers to his voice, yet this time it is in the form of a new variable that Dáinsleif has never encountered before. As if he was plunged into the Abyss that Khaenri'ah wished so much to conquer and explore with their own flesh and blood only to resign to resort to a fallen star from afar, everything around him is naught but a dark sky filled with stars. His eyes close once, the next time they open he finds himself before what he believes to be Irminsul at first due to its reasonable similarity, only to reject this idea as soon as he listens to this new entity's voice upon smoothing the palm of his hand over its golden-white trunk: the Imaginary Tree.

Though no connection whatsoever would be expected to remain with the Axis Mundi that belongs to a world when he's at the core of the universe, recognition is made manifest in the Imaginary Tree of a man chosen by one of its infinite extensions and so a link is established nonetheless. Wordlessly does the tree show images of other stars that fought against an energy called Honkai, others struggling against one by a different name: Stellaron. Individuals who gave it they all to defend humankind as he successfully did in Teyvat and a clear image of the last man who touched the Imaginary Tree before him, a man with alarm-inducing similarities.

From unspoken imagery does Dáinsleif come to the conclusion that this energy that once desolated Teyvat and threatened to consume it whole is no different than a stellar cancer that affects other corners of the cosmos as well. Thus a question reverberates within the confines of his mind next, ethereal:

Now that your question has been answered, what will you do? Return to your homeworld to spend the river of time peacefully of your long-lasting life? Or—?

That is true. Even if the curse has been lifted from him at the end of the crisis, his status as a long-living creature never changed. For he was never human through and through since the very beginning, despite his humane traits. He whom looks at the tree, core of everything that was birthed in this universe, he wonders: Was Phanes, who gave life to humanity in Teyvat originated from this tree too? This tree where time flows in the trunk of the Imaginary Tree and branches out into an infinity of worlds. Whose every branch is a form of civilization, while every bud is their past and present etched onto the dimension of time. Where each twig is a world line and each leaf is a bubble universe.

There is no continuation to the second option given, but Dáinsleif knows what follows. Looking back to all his life experiences, there is no more left for him in a world where he has closed one chapter. When a door closes, a window opens— or so they say. Perhaps this is the moment to say goodbye to a chapter of his life that has found its closure that welcome a new phase of his long-lasting life.

❝It has been decided.❞

A knight knows no end to his battles, neither does the Twilight Sword of old. In this battle for humanity's sake where he has the means and the strength to tip the scales in the right directions, his love for humanity will become the first step towards an unknown that doesn't frighten him.

Do it.

Through telepathic communication as per the eternal link that connects him to Irminsul's brethren in the center of the universe his answer is communicated, and so the tree that glows golden-white inundates Dáinsleif's starry vision with its light and a parting gift: he who remained a wingless seraph in soul and mind only to be displayed in his realm of consciousness has been elevated back to his celestial origins, so would Dáinsleif come to realize upon setting foot to a new world and seeing himself atop water's reflection. With his state of completion that he hasn't felt in several centuries, he now treads unknown grounds with a clear destiny in mind from the start— unlike when he was lost after everything was taken from him once.

#◟༺✦༻◞ noctilucent crossroads: hsr ┊info.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ echoes of a fallen star ┊drabble.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ chasing luminous river of stars ┊noctilucent crossroads.┊#forgive my rusty writing #it's been a few weeks #since the last time I wrote properly dfhjg #but this will make the beginning of his HSR verse #which ironically can work for every other fandom too in a way #I'll change the banner soon #when I decide which one to use #and the next post will be about #more trivia-like things!

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momojedi · 4 months

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— BACTA SUPPORT pairing. hunter x gn! reader

type. drabble note. request from ao3 word count. 615

star wars masterlist

"Hunter? Are you here?" I hesitated when no response came back before carefully climbing up the ramp to the Havoc Marauder, the metal creaking softly under my feet. It had easily been around fifteen minutes since Hunter had excused himself from me and the rest of the Batch citing the need to tend to the blaster wound he'd sustained on our last mission so Echo sent me to check up on him, though not without giving me a mischievous grin.

It hadn't been a secret that Hunter had been the object of my affection for a while now. I mean, how could he not capture my attention? His rugged exterior concealed a tender soul, a man who prioritised the well-being and happiness of everyone around him. Seeing him with Omega always made my heart swell with so much admiration and I couldn't help but feel my cheeks flush a little whenever he gave me that warm smile, a side to him only few had the chance to meet. Needless to say, I had fallen hard for the sergeant of Clone Force 99 and for some reason, I couldn't help but hope he felt the same whenever I felt the little spark between us flicker to life.

Knocking softly on the metal of the ship as not to alarm him, I glanced around the Marauder's stomach. "I just wanted to see if you nee- oh." For a second, I had to remind myself to breathe when my eyes finally settled on him.

Hunter sat on his rack, shirtless, with a bacta patch in his hand when he looked up at me. His upper armour, along with the shirt of his body glove, were scattered on the ground. With his chest exposed, I had a perfect view on everything, each muscle and every little bit of naked skin, and suddenly, it was very hard to keep my eyes off him.

I gulped and suddenly my mouth was all dry as I kept looking for proper words, any words, to say. My face was indescribably hot and it didn't take a genius to figure out that my cheeks were likely a delicious shade of red. Hunter seemed to realise that too because suddenly, a sly grin danced on his lips. "Oh?" He repeated my words with a raised brow. I cleared my throat. "I wanted to, er, see if you needed any help, yo-you know, with your," I motioned towards the healing injury on his chest, "your wound."

Hunter chuckled, a comfortable chuckle that made me feel warmer than I'd probably like to admit. "You think I can't take care of it on my own?" My eyes widened and I gasped, immediately entangling myself in a net of excuses and corrections which just made him grin even wider. Finally, he rose his hands in a calming manner. "Relax, [name], it's all good," I let out a quiet exhale, "I would however appreciate some help with the bacta..."

My mind was racing when I settled between his knees to have better access to the wound. We'd been close before, hell, we'd even hugged or slept next to each other during missions - but this was another level of intimate. I jumped when I felt his rough hands settle on my hips. Although I fixed my gaze on the bandage in my hands, I could feel his eyes boring into me. I took a deep breath. My hands were shaking when I smeared the bacta on the injury but when I glanced up to look at Hunter, all I was met with was a loving expression. "Thank you." I smiled back at him, fully lost in his eyes.

"You're welcome."

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icywaddle · 18 days

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MMMMMM GUYS I FOUND AN OLD MILGRAM DRABBLE I MADE A WHILE AGO AND IT ACTUALLY HASN’T AGED TERRIBLY

Es Warden Amalgamation AU

Es entered the room, grabbing the stack of tapes from their bedside table before sitting down on their bed. They reached across the narrow room, sliding one into the small black box on their dresser and slipping on their VR headset. Jackalope had supplied the equipment, saying it was to help them decide on their verdicts. Es had never really understood why Jackalope kept referring to them as.. well, “them.” They felt that the pronoun fit them well, but it was still.. strange.

Shaking off thoughts of Jackalope and their own identity, Es slid into bed and clicked the headset on. Their vision collapsed away into a white void. Used to it after a few trips into the headset, they surrendered to the feeling of passing out. When they regained consciousness, they stood in an endless world of sky, water rippling gently under their feet and stretching out around them for miles.

Es raised their hand and swiped at the air to pull up a menu. They scrolled through the first trial music videos, hesitating for a moment before selecting prisoner 09. Mikoto Kayano. His explosive outburst during his last interrogation intrigued Es. They decided to review both of his past MVs, see if there was anything they missed the first time.

When they clicked the button, the world around them began to disintegrate, falling away into nothingness. As they began entering the world of the MV, Es’s vision whited out again. They felt the sensation of falling, then flying, as the simulation shifted around them.

Es’s body materialized in a dark alleyway, standing beside a dumpster. They snapped their fingers, and the MV began to play. Shots of the sky, a bridge, an alley… it took a moment before Mikoto himself even made an appearance.

Mikoto paced forward in the MV, running towards an unsuspecting person before-

CRACK

The bat made contact with the blurry silhouette’s neck, a sickening crunch echoing around the alleyway walls as they collapsed. The minute the bat had snapped the person’s neck, Es had fallen to the ground, unable to pause or exit the MV as their body exploded in excruciating pain. This had never happened during their other watches of Mikoto’s video, why now-

CRACK

Again, Es felt dizzy, trembling as they felt memories rushing back to them, flowing into their mind so fast it felt as if their skull was about to burst.

They were Ayano Kisaragi, a businessman on his way back to see his wife and kids at home-

CRACK

They were Himeko Kageomori, the owner of a local bakery, headed to distribute her extra stock to the homeless-

CRACK

They were Koi Ouma, a rebellious teenager loitering outside their high school, smoking a cigarette and staring at the stars-

CRACK

The amalgamation of perspectives fell to the floor, clutching its head. It writhed, wracked with pain as its various lifetimes were relived and ended over and over again. Eventually, its cries subsided, leaving only the sound of soft breathing and music blasting all around. The screaming mass of memories subsided, their violent thoughts cooling and solidifying once more.

There was only one, now.

Kneeling on the ground, head pressed to the cold stone.

Es.

T H E W A R D E N O F M I L G R A M

#milgram deco 27 #es milgram #milgram #milgram es #mentioned #kayano mikoto #mikoto kayano #milgram mikoto

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hcdragonwrites · 9 months

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Just one night (a @journey-to-the-au Drabble)

Ok this is the part two! This is the comfort/ fluff of what happens after Six Eared Macaques previous rampage from Nightmares. I am glad I split these into two so people can pick and choose.

Mild trigger warning: Brief mentions of attempted SA (again nothing goes into detail at all but still sometimes this can still be a trigger.)

It’s over.

The nightmare is over.

Then why does it feel like i'm breathing but I can’t catch my breath?

Willow felt her heart beating too fast, her mind repeating the nightmare.

The cave still smelled of blood.

The imposter was dead. He lay there, finally revealed, a monkey of gray blue fur with a face of shadows. Nothing to be distinguishable of who, or what, his personality had been before it assumed the skin of their leader. Of her friend.

Of Wukong.

Her Wukong had come through the water of Water Curtain Cave in a flash of gold, eyes blazing red. Almost like a Heaven send. A blessing.

In that moment Willow had stepped forward, to the embrace of this nightmare she had dutifully taken as her yoke, a blur or fiery orange had smashed its way through the curtain of water.

“IMPOSTER!” He had called in challenge, his staff coming free of his ear. With a flick of the Kings wrist, the weapon grew in tremendous size.

The imposter had turned, hackles rising, bloody mouth circling back into a snarl. Wukong had roared. The imposter had screamed. Then they were upon each other. It had been a battle, long and difficult. Fur had flown, stone had shaken. At times the combatants had traversed the skies, shooting like two wayward stars from a bow through the Heavens. More blood fell.

In the midst of it, the imposter had cleaned the remnants of its meal from his mouth, making it impossible to tell the twisting and twining fighters apart. Which was which?

Willow had waited as finally, after gods and other immortals had been unable to tell who was who, Mama Courage and Wisdom stepped forward. Willow couldn’t hear the words being spoken between the celestials and Wisdom. She could only hear a ringing in her ears, a drumming of her heart.

She couldn’t catch her breath.

Willow's palms were wet with sweat and white. Whiter than porcelain. Courage took one of those hands, holding it tight. Breaking her numbness, her shock. Willow grasped the hand, holding on. The fear still coiled in her gut, a snake tightening its hold on her. But Courages hand was the anchor she clung to as her body battles within itself.

Wisdom had found him out, had picked out the real Wukong. A mother knew her child. That’s when the imposter had lost. He had felt it, probably, sensing the shift in the wind. In that moment he tried to run. The mirage of his disguise had fallen off in the fright. Wild white eyes, teeth bared of flesh. And now.

He was nothing more than a stain on the floor.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” The words echo, still alive within Willows head.

Willow was trying to drown those words out.

She’s failing.

The storm inside her body is a rage of water, threatening to drag her down. Those blue eyes flash sharply in her head and Willow feels herself shake.

“Willow?”

She startles. She flinches, shaken from the very real echo of what had almost happened. “Reaffirm our union… Maybe more later.”

Willow looks up, kneeling on the stone floor of the cave. She doesn’t remember when she sat back down. Wukong stands before her. He blocks her view from the rest of the cave, from what the other troop members are beginning to clean up. He blocks her view from the bodies. But Willow still sees the imposter, has to see it. She has to kill the fear in her head that at any moment, any second, those ice eyes can come back and stare into her. To ask things of her that make her soul pull away and her body go cold.

“Willow?”

Wukong stands before her, eyes o so vulnerable. His voice is bleeding uncertainty, his hands fidgeting. He looks to her then looks away, confused on what to do.

Willow also doesn’t know what to do.

How do you tell your friend that someone wore their skin and killed and began to stalk her every step? Willow feels Mama Courage beside her, the hand squeezing. She looks up.

‘It’s him Willow. It’s our Stone Monkey.’ She signs and taps in her unique monkey way. It had taken a long time for Willow to learn this sign language, struggling but wanting to understand. Now, after decades of living together she had mastered this speech. ‘Go. You both need each other.’

‘What of you? He needs his mothers too.’ Willow signs back, not trusting her voice. That storm inside her throat is threatening to release, the track of her tears still wet. Mama Courage notices this and frowns in concern.

‘He needs a friend more. He needs you.’ She signs back. ‘And you need him most of all. To banish that demon, that nightmare. You are still shaking.’

It was true. Willows body still shook as if she had caught a deep bone chill. The blue eyes flash in her memory. Ice cold and drowning her from within Wukongs face. She had been chilled in a sense.

Before she could respond, Mama Courage had stepped away. She disappeared behind Wukong, going to help Wisdom with the mess and to spread the word of what had occurred. To reveal the truth.

Now it is just the two of them.

“It’s ok Willow.” Wukong spoke, gaze still averted. “I asked my Master if I could spend a night to … to fix the problems at home.” Willow watched as those hands wrung against each other. “But if - if what has happened- if my face brings you concern- makes you uncomfortable— I understand.”

Willow saw him step a bit off, unsure of what to do.

The eye of the hurricane was moving over Willow, that numb silence beginning to break.

Another half shuffle. He was moving closer to the carnage behind him, further from her reach. Further from her.

He’s just as afraid as I am that something has broken between us. The realization hits her like a slap.

The great wave within her, the one she had tampered down to keep her calm, to keep her cool as she had faced that monster covered in blood—

It broke through her.

Before Wukong could step further back, to disappear, to help, Willow had his face in her hands.

Willow braced her courage and stared into those eyes, determined to banish the fear that somehow, the monster had escaped. The Monkey King's eyes widened, gold within a sea of red. Willow pressed a kiss to his temple, a test.

If you are my sweet boy, my handsome monkey, she thought vehemently, this will prove it.

If you are that monster … I’ll see it in your eyes.

Willow waited.

Wukongs face was full of surprise. He blinked rapidly, uncomfortable about the intense eye contact. He looked away, looked to the side. Then he looked back up.

“Willow… what … what happened ?” For he could sense something beginning to churn within his friend. A tipping point of sorts and he, the cliff she balanced on.

The monster is dead.

Relief.

Willow breathed out. The air in her lungs shook.

Relief broke the iron in her spine. What little courage she had clung to swept away and she let it. In the dozens of decades she had been with Wukong, had cultivated and grown their trust and friendship, she had found and grown a safe place to be herself. Not Earth Reaching Willow of Polestar Palace, Eldest Daughter. To be her true self. To be one with the emotions she had suppressed. The feelings she had to repress as a princess unless she gave the wrong impression, put on the wrong face, among her fathers courtiers.

I want my friend. The longing was fierce and wild. It scorched her veins and pricked her eyes with fresh tears. A strangled sob passed between her teeth as she tried to stifle it with her fist.

“Willow?”

I need my friend - I need him.

She could be just Willow here, in his arms. She didn’t need to be a shield. She didn’t need to be a princess. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, holding.

“The last thing I want is for you to go.” She whispered. And that’s when it fell. The tears came fast and hard, her body shaking with it. The hurricane was passing over here, the eye of the storm now past. The wind within her was full of the past years spent with the imitation of her friend. His watching eyes, his burning brushes against her hands. Those days when he had hinted, suggested, and plainly stated he wanted more—

Wukongs hands held her arms, cooed in her ear. “It’s ok Willow. Let it out. Breathe.”

“Don’t go…” she whispered, making a mess of tears on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Nightmares. She felt them all coming across her mind then, each time she lifted her face to catch a breath. The nightmares flashed into her head. But they weren’t nightmares.

“He can’t hurt you Willow. He can’t hurt anyone ever again.” Wukongs voice was fierce in that promise as he turned to press a kiss to her temple. Sealing the promise as he rubbed her arms like a mother to a babe.

They were memories. Of all the times the imposter, the Six Eared Macaque, had pressed her for touches. Had asked for kisses. Had attempted many times to get her away from the eyes of others. Earth Reaching Willow had walked the halls feeling eyes always upon her.

He had cornered her one terrible night and had reached for her. Willow had felt like a rabbit caught in a snare as his hand had caressed her face, had trailed to her lips. He had been interrupted by Rin Rin coming in to ask for bouquet suggestions, wanting to know what blossoms to pair best with what greens in preparation for a feast. Her friend had saved her that night and she didn’t even know.

None of them had known.

Each time the memory popped up, Willow flinched away, trying to curl deeper into the orange fur. Trying to burrow into her friend because he was real. And she needed that reality from the wake that was her mind. It grounded her, allowed her to be scared. Willow breathed him in. The imposter had never smelled quite right, had never felt quite right, hadn’t talked quite right. At least to her.

Wukong, this Wukong- her Wukong, smelled of the world, of growing things and sunlight, of ozone and wind. Of rain upon dry stone. The Six Eared Macaque had been floral and fruity, sweet like a honeyed nectar trap, like a carnivorous flower. And she the unwitting fly.

All the things he had tried to do to lure her in had failed. Willow had survived.

Barely.

My Wukong is here. My friend, my confidant, my partner in this eternity. I do not have to be brave anymore. I don’t have to be strong. Here, I can cry.

Nothing could ever replicate the muscle memory, the familial way that Willow and Wukong both folded into each other's embrace. They had hundreds of years to build this body-deep familiarity with one another. This instinctual trust.

Not even a six eared all knowing demonic monkey could copy that.

Willows sobs were not slowing. They were gaining traction instead. All the fear of years of living with a masked monster in their midst, all the close calls that Willow was remembering now, battered her. Wukong shifted a bit and she felt more than saw Wukong grow in size. Her arms moved apart, having to move from holding his face to grab his middle.

“I’m going to move us Willow. Is that alright ?” His voice is soft, questioning.

My sweet friend, so tender in his asking.

She can’t trust her own voice but nods. Then they were up, an arm beneath her leg and another holding her back. As the sounds of the waterfall retreated, Willow felt the tightness in her chest start to loosen. Breaths she couldn’t take before, that seemed to catch in her throat, came easier.

Each step took them away from the roar of the water. With each crash of tears, Willow curled into her friend. Mama Courage had been right. She had needed him.

Wukong finally stopped moving, settling the both of them down onto the stone floor. They were in an alcove, a bit of a stone hollow off of the main passageway. Willow looked up at Wukong then as he crossed his legs. He nestled her into his lap. His tail wrapped her own lags, a warm blanket against the cold.

“Comfortable?”

“Mhm..” Willow sniffed. Her nose would be stuffed later but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. She wiped her eyes and tried to see through them.

Wukong looked terribly sad, his face on the brink of breaking itself.

“Oh darling…” she hiccuped. Willow touched his forehead. The golden circlet was cold across her fingers. “It’s not your fault.”

She could see it hurting, eating away at her friend. A worm within an apple core, destroying all the good fruit about it.

They only had one night. One night.

Willow wished for more than just a night.

“Wu-Wukong.” Her voice came out thick. Her monkey leaned into her touch, those golden eyes warm and full of love.

“You don’t need to relive those things.” He said. “Not tonight. Not ever again if you wish. You don’t even have to trust me again. My face … it has been used for terrible things…monstrous things. I see it in all of your eyes.”

Unspilled tears pooled in his face. “I can see it in your eyes. In my mothers. In my friends. In Ba and Ma and Liu and Rin Rins eyes.”

“You all have ghosts in your eyes and I can’t banish them. Because I caused them. ”

Those sad words were spoken with such sorrow, with such rejection that Willows was moving before she could think. Willow pulled his face down to hers.

“This isn’t your fault Wukong.” Willow said.

“It is completely my fault…”

“Oh my sweet Monkey…” She said into his fur. I wish you didn’t have to go- I wish you could stay here, stay with us with me, to help chase those memories into the dark. “How I missed you.”

Wukong swiped some of her tears off her cheek, rumbling not words but noises.

“But you have a pilgrimage to be a part of. You are needed there.” Willow says.

“I’m needed here.” The guilt is eating him, swallowing him up bit by bit. The words he couldn’t say were evident in his eyes. If I had been here none of this would have happened, they said.

“You will always be needed here.”

“Maybe not as welcome.” Wukong pulled back, looking away. “ A stranger took my face and committed atrocities. That face, my face, hurt you. My mothers. My friends. My home.” His voice is shaking. From anger, from sorrow, she did not know. Wukong was powerful. He had challenged Heaven, had defeated dragons, outwitted gods. He had shapeshifted into a thousand different things, had gained a weapon that matched his own abilities. He was a warrior, a King who cared for his people.

Wukong hadn’t been able to protect them. It ate at him. Swallowed him in an endless loop of pain.

“I wasn’t here to protect you.” He whispered. Wukong had burst through the cave, seeking his doppleganger with anger. When he had seen the bloody remains of Cloud, the smiling face of his imitation covered in blood and approaching his mothers and Willow—

He had lost it.

“Wukong look at me.”

He didn’t move his head, despondent. Willow dug her fingers in deeper to the fur, twisting the large monkey about just enough to see him clearly.

She carded those fingers through Wukongs fur, half comfort for her and half comfort for him. Those fingers plucked and pulled, tugged and tended in the ways the monkey king had shown her, all those years ago when she first came to Flower Fruit Mountain.

“It’s better than brushing,” He had said. “It’s a way we say we love one another and strengthen that love. A language spoken through our hands.”

Willow spoke that silent language now. She moved the fingers through and around his face, over his ears. Willow silently kissed the tears from his cheeks as she cried her own. His pain was hers. And hers was his.

In that silent and dark place the two took shelter against the world. Willow from her own memories. Wukong from his own perceived failings.

The story of what happened fell slowly from Willows lips. She held nothing back. Wukong would either stiffen or growl, huff or pull her closer at each new unearthed memory. Willow lived them again here and now, feeling the night slip between her fingers like grains of sand. She had only one night.

One night to banish that blue-eyed monster from its association with Wukong. I won’t let that demon take him from me.

It was a fierceness that surprised Willow. It gave back some of her strength, allowing her to speak nakedly about the truth of what had happened since Wukong began his pilgrimage.

I won’t let him be poisoned to me. I won’t let my experience of a few years erase more than a lifetime of memories.

Willow would not leave that between them. She loved Wukong too much to lose him to some faceless cannibal that had been a drop in the ocean of time they had spent together.

It would take more than a night Willow knew, to repair what things had been shaken. But she would get the worst of it done. She would find a way to see him again before his journey was done. She needed him. And he needed her.

If I have to blackmail all of Heaven I will. I’ll air my fathers own dirty laundry to steal a few moments with Wukong on the road. Then once he’s home I won’t let him go till he knows he’s wanted and loved by all of us. He’s family.

Willow cried and in turn counseled her friend. Wukong simply sat at times to listen, at others times he spoke of promises and things he would do, ways he would make it up to her. Willow would shake her head.

“Just be you. Just always and forever be my lovely Monkey.”

“I promise.”

And together, in the very heart of the mountain, the two wept. Once the sun rose, Wukong brought Willow back to his mothers. He said his goodbyes. The pain and indecision on his face was at war with itself. Willow, when her turn came to say goodbye, took Wukongs hand. She wrapped her pinky around his.

“When I see you again I’ll tell you of all the things we’ve done.” Willow whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “I will tell you of the seasons change and I will tell you of the coconut toddy and sweet plumb wine we drink for you on your birthday. Of Ba and Ma’s latest stunts, of how Liu and Rin Rin act cuter than ever as they continue to court. I will tell you of all the babies born and all of the younglings who try to prove themselves to their amors.”

Willow felt Wukong shake a bit. She tightened her hold on his other hand, squeezing. “I will tell you of the new trees we plant, of the new games we invent, of the new relationships we cultivate.”

“The most important thing I will tell you though is how much we love and miss you, Wukong. How we are all eagerly awaiting you back at home. How, even now, I can’t wait for your return.”

“You … mean that?” He stared, golden sunset eyes misting over with new tears.

“Oh love. You don’t have to ask. I always miss you.” She smiled. “You are my handsome monkey. My lovely monkey. My best friend. I want you to be happy. And if ever those fellows you travel with make you guess or judge yourself harshly— then I will remind them why I chose you. Of all the beings and people of the world and Heaven, I picked you. And you picked me.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“The sooner you go.” Willow said softly. “The sooner you will come back to Flower Fruit Mountain. And the sooner I can enjoy those peaceful days with my husband.”

Wukong gave one last desperate look back, and it took all of his family’s willpower not to call him, to beg him to stay. Instead, Willow waved smiling at him. Mama Courage and Mama Wisdom both held each other, smiling at their boy.

Marshal Liu stepped closer to the smaller group, along with Ma and Ba and Beng. A silent gesture of we will take care of them, in that action.

Wukong smiled, half heartedly, and leapt through the water. Gone as quickly as he had arrived.

Willow turned then, hands clasped within their robed sleeves. She had a task to do now.

“Marshal Liu?”

“You have an idea, don’t you Mrs Willow?”

“Are my thoughts that evident?” Willow smiled as Marshal Liu nodded. He kept pace with her. walking as Willow turned deeper into the cave.

“I need a few scrolls of parchment.” The idea had already taken shape in her mind. Wukong may be stuck within his duties to his pilgrims. But she was not. She would have to be wise, be careful. She didn’t want to turn this into a heavenly spectacle. She did have a few contacts, however, that could be trusted with the whole truth of her urgency. “I need to write a few letters to Heaven.”

“Heaven?”

“Yes. I know Liu. I don't write home often.” As the sounds of the waterfall faded again, Willow felt her heart thrum with determination. “One night is hardly enough time to heal what has been wrecked here. And I intend on calling on a few favors.” She would send her letters, seeking out sympathetic ears discreetly. She would help Sun Wukong heal just as much as he had helped her. They would do so together. Even if the distance may be great I will find a way.

#hcwrites #writing stuff #passes out #I AINT gonna lie I cried at parts in this one #because Earth Reaching Willow and Sun Wukongs relationship is so strong and tender #yes kisses can be platonic fight me I’ve seen enough of culture to know this #forehead kisses though? those are the best so of course I had to throw those in #please when she says ‘I need him’ made me instantly sob because we have all been there when we just need to fall into someone’s arms and cry #I’m sorry if this makes you cry too #I got tissues for you #for journey to the au #sun wukong #earth reaching willow #the betrothal au #jttw wukong #jttw monkey king #jttw tag #jttw au #dude writing Rin Rin Coming into that scene -#like asking about flowers and pausing because the tension in the air must be so thick. that sent chills up my spine just a bit #I love all these monkeys #no music this time either I had to feel this one out without musical help #I Hope i did. them justice #because I love this AU very much #hcfanfics

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

Text

❥ ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ prompt(s): sweet.

350 words, gn reader (no pronouns), nsfw, 18+ mdni, angst w. a hint of smut (not rly, sort of); feat. cute stuff like, ichiji being jealous and a lil nasty, a wild yonji and niji appear being... themselves -- brothers being brothers, yk the vibes. reader might not ever escape atp, who knows. a ficlet instead of a drabble bc my long-winded ass can't keep to 100 words sometimes (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡

previous ⤸ | next ⤹

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･titled — “immanity.”

raucous laughter echoes around the expansive living room, grating his nerves; his idiot younger brothers decimate his residual patience. the brunt of his frustration has been directed towards niji all night, because he can’t forgive his younger brother for interrupting him earlier.

the thought of you sucking on his fingers — mouth hot, tongue and lips soft — has him leaning back into the plush lounge chair. he ignores the way his cock sits heavy and stiff in his pants, his irritation spiking, prickling his skin.

the itch is bothersome, an intrusive sensation that has him out of sorts.

his younger brothers oscillate between drinking and arguing, while he sits back, hoping they settle down soon. but of fucking course, yonji drops his shot glass on the floor; ichiji’s frown deepens as the glass shatters into small, sharp pieces — tiny fallen stars glimmering against the dark tiled floor; unnamed and lonesome.

he runs a hand down his face as the pair argue again, agitation boiling over.

“i don’t care whose fault it is,” ichiji says sharply, dark eyes narrowing, “get it cleaned up. now.”

and, as if his night couldn’t get any worse: you enter the room.

you saunter leisurely and plop down on the couch, shorts riding up your thick thighs, showing off the curve of your ass. niji he leans over mischievously to whisper something to you — outlandish, very perverse.

words jumbled and incoherent as they tumble around your mouth, you’re unable to look at ichiji for longer than a second — too ashamed of how you willingly let him manhandle you.

you should be looking for a way out of there, but instead you keep wondering what would’ve happened if niji hadn’t—

“i knew it,” niji says loudly, laughing and nudging yonji, baiting ichiji again. “pay up, pay up,” he chants offkey.

ichiji leaves them be, focusing, instead, on grabbing you by the arm, brutally hauling you to your feet. an argument sits in the back of your throat as ichiji drags you out of the room, muttering curses under his breath, attempting to put distance between you and niji.

#fic request #idk where this series is going don't ask me anything #one piece imagine #one piece angst #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke ichiji x reader #ichiji x y/n #ichiji x reader #vinsmoke ichiji smut #one piece fic #y/n def sippin some clown girl juice rn #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke yonji

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 year

Note

I want to echo the real star of disabled!verse being Cola request, and ask for a drabble with the real star of assistant!verse, Ace, please 💕

Alfred looked up when you let yourself in through the kitchen door and smiled a little, "Knocking off early or here on an Errand?" he asked.

"Errand," you answer, forcing yourself to smile. You've got a vicious headache and you desperately need the auras to stop. The black spots blooming in front of your vision were distracting and the pain was making you nauseous.

"Well," he said, wiping his hands, brow furrowing as he looked you over, "How can I-" And before he can ask what you've come for, you're out.

Crumpling to the floor in a heap, in a dead faint after wavering for a moment. "Oh dear," he said, moving to put you on your side and whistling softly to Call Ace out of his basket where he was patiently waiting for you to fuss over him. "Down," Alfred said, pointing to the floor behind your back.

Ace whined but lay down, snuffling against your neck and Alfred stroked his head, "Keep her still, huh?"

He stood carefully and grabbed the phone off the counter, waiting. He wasn't sure what had happened but. I you didn't come round on your own, he'd be calling an ambulance. And then Bruce to yell at him for not noticing you weren't well.

But when you stirred, whimpering and confused, Alfred exhales slowly, putting a hand on your shoulder, "Easy," he said, smiling a little when Ace pawed at you insistently. Worrying your coat with his paws. "Gave us a bit of a scare, Girlie," he scolded, "What on Earth-"

"Why am I on the floor?" you ask confused.

"You fainted," he asked, moving a small trash can closer when he noticed you turning a little green as he helped you to sit up. "Did you not eat breakfast or-"

"It's just a migraine," you manage, taking a deep breath, and stroking the massive furry head that flopped into your lap. "It's been a long time since I've passed out."

"How long?" Alfred asked, noting that you seemed to be speaking well and oriented to where you were- so not in any imminent danger. And that was good.

"College, I think," you answer, scritching the spot behind Ace's ear that made his right back foot twitch.

The butler nodded and got to his feet, holding out his hands, "Well, I'm afraid I must insist you sit with me for a while before attending to whatever Errand-"

"Just some files from his study- he said that you would know-"

"Ah yes," Alfred said, "I noticed he'd forgotten them this morning." The butler sighed and helped you to your feet. putting you in a kitchen chair. "I'll fetch those once you've had something to drink. Do you have medicine?"

"In my center console-"

And Alfred nodded, picking up your keys where they'd fallen from your hand and turning to fetch it. "Ace," he ordered, "keep an eye on her for me."

Ace whined, butting his head more insistently against your abdomen, wanting more attention and Alfred chuckled to himself. He didn't doubt that Ace was going to do exactly that.

#Bruce Wayne #Bruce Wayne x reader #assistant!reader #ask answered #minors dni

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sungbeam · 2 years

Text

[𝟔:𝟒𝟓𝐏𝐌] — nonidol!choi beomgyu x gn!reader

0.2k words, fluff-ish, beomgyu is cheesy lmao but still cute

a/n: no but the fact that the specific pick-up line i used prob won't make sense in context unless you know this is for my birthday event TT

"Hey! Yn, wait up!"

Your footsteps slowed slightly to allow Choi Beomgyu to fall into step beside you. A light mist of rain had fallen just as your class was dismissed for the evening, leaving the streets damp and glistening against the reflection of amber streetlights. "Hey, what's up, Gyu?"

Beomgyu slung an arm around your shoulders, his rain jacket crinkling against yours. "It must be your birthday or something."

You furrowed your brows in confusion, titling your head over to look at him. "Are you okay? My birthday's not—"

"Ah, then it must be mine," he cut in. You noticed the mischievous gleam in his eyes and you waited for the punchline. He leaned down slightly, close enough that you could feel his warm breath fan over your nose. "'Cause you're a gift."

You groaned loud, head thrown back and everything. Beomgyu's giggles of pure delight echoed against the buildings and empty street. You made a face at him, then playfully shoved his chest. "You're so bad, oh my god!"

Beomgyu's face was alight with his laughter, and he grinned at you with such happiness in his eyes that you couldn't be mad at him. You just couldn't. "You're so cute, Yn," he said offhandedly as he drew you back toward him with his arm.

You ignored the pounding in your chest. "Glad to hear my irritation with you brings you joy."

"You bring me much more joy than you'll ever know." And when you glanced at him, he was already looking back at you with those beautiful stars in his eyes, and you couldn't doubt him, not for a second.

txt m.list ✶ oct. drabbles m.list

permanent taglist: @im-a-big-mess @honeyhuii @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @rnjfy @jaehunnyy @kpopjackie @spiderrenjunfics @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @super-btstrash-posts @hibernatinghamster @otchae @bigballsz @shakalakaboomboo @ashxxkook @kpop718 @ethereal-engene @kim-jvnkyu

#txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt drabbles #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt oneshot #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu drabbles #beomgyu timestamps #txt timestamps #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu oneshot

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elmundodeflor · 2 years

Text

Happy Birthday Hanji Zoe

✨️ Written in the Stars ✨️ - a Levihan drabble, for Hanji

•

The beach laid quiet that night. The low murmur of waves meeting the sand the only distinguishable sound echoing at the distance, almost like a hushed lullaby.

The kids had paid him a visit earlier that day, as they did every year when the last scraps of summer started to fade into the chill of orange trees and autumn breezes. It was nice to see them again, honestly. Levi was proud of the young men and women they had all become.

But he needed time to breathe alone, he figured. Time to be with himself in solace.

Gaby had taken him to the shores had everyone said their goodbyes, much like he'd asked of them. Then, she'd left back inside the house to finish up clearing the tables. He noticed, she had grown taller; taller than him, even, and that she wore her auburn hair in an unkept messy ponytail.

It reminded him of them.

Everything reminded him of them.

He looked over at the sea, there where the dark waters met the black night skies, and let out a heavy sigh that melted into the salty air.

It seemed forever ago when they had first reached beyond the walls. When they touched a world so new it felt they could grasp the horizon between their fingertips and nothing could ever hurt them anymore.

It was a simpler time, maybe. Even when war awaited, hidden in the shadows. The kids played amongst the crashing waves, laughing like the little children they had no chance of being, and hope painted the sky of bright clear blue. Even when fate uncertain clouded the roads ahead.

It was easier of a life, he mulled, surely, wincing at the memories flooding bittersweet. They were still warm and safe and alive next to him. And he much preferred uncertainty to the concrete and finite of death.

He exhaled. Hanji had held his hand and guided him along the shores that night, when they decided to set camp across the sand, curious and excited, like they had once explored mistery. The kids were already sound asleep in their tents, and everything else around them was drowned in silence.

"Have I ever told you about the stars, Levi?", they'd said.

He nodded, letting go of them if only for a brief second. They had stopped walking, far away from their lit bonfire, only to sit down together in the sand, facing the vastness of the universe side by side; two halves of a whole.

"You've told me way too many things, four eyes.", he admitted.

They laughed; a small sound that was ever so precious to his beating heart.

"Well, did you know they are nothing but boiling rock, pressed together by gravitational force?"

Levi shrugged. He usually had no idea what half of that scientific terminology meant, whatsoever, but still decided to listen either way. Time after time again.

"I guess it kinda makes sense.", he'd concluded, unsure. And Hanji smiled, with a fondness only reserved for moments like those they shared in the intimacy of eachother's company.

"A while back I read about them having some sort of life, much quite like us humans.", they'd explained, glaring up at the trail of specks that glimmered over the black infinity. "It's funny, you know? 'Cause when they die, it could be months or even years after they become invisible to us here on Earth."

Levi swallowed. There was a lump tightening his throat that he hadn't even noticed forming until he started struggling for air.

"Is it because of how far away they are from us?", was all he managed saying.

Hanji remained quiet for a while; a sigh of melancholy escaping them inevitable, slipping into the soft of the wind's melody.

"Sometimes, I like thinking that our fallen comrades turn into stars.", they'd confessed; dropping their weight free onto the sand immense, almost as broad as the skies above. "That we can still see them, even after they've been long gone. And that, in spite of their clear absense, their light still shines for us who're over here."

Levi had nodded, once more. He had never thought about it that way back then, but he certainly did now.

Was Hanji watching him, as he'd wished for that day? Were they still present, beating iridiscent in the shimmering of the brightest star?

He stared up; his only eye searching for signs written in the night.

It was hard to be without them, really. Desperating, even; to know a world without their shining light reaching for every corner, as fiery as the smoke that had once tarnished them whole. His heart hurt and twisted and turned, shattered to pieces with every beating day.

But specially that one.

Specially when life reminded him they should have been on Earth, by his side, and not wandering lost around the gates of heaven.

He grumbled, much to his desdain, and traced his fingers through the scars that had sewn him miraculous, back to life. Hanji's birthday week had always been difficult, but that one was specifically gut-wrenching.

September fifth, and they would have turned fourty, Levi remembered. Because, of course: how could he not?

Fourty, he thought to himself; a deep sigh, tinted of sorrow blue almost rushing through him.

He was sure, then, that they would have joked about becoming a fossil, if fate had ever given them the chance to, and that they would have smiled, evergreen as they blew out their candles; joy sealed concrete, imprinted permanent on the corners of their eyes. He was certain, also, that they would have booked a ticket anywhere right after the party was over with, and that they would have spent a lifetime following the clouds; because they were impulsive like that.

He chuckled; brief, yet audible.

It was ironic, honestly, how silver linings were starting to splatter his ever-dark hair, and Hanji would be no more, forever stuck in eternal youth.

No wrinkled smiles, no candles to blow.

They were ripped too early, for they would never be able to walk the world they once fought so vehemently to liberate.

No threads of grey crowning their head. No birthday cakes. No chances of attesting time change their skin. Nor growing old next to him.

The kids had brought them presents, though, as they did every year. Armin, a handful of titan books and a letter from sweet Mikasa, over in Paradis. Annie and Pieck a box of their favourite tea, along with a bottle of the local marleyan wine. Connie had fetched a bouquet of the lilac flowers Hanji used to love, and Jean had drawn them immortal into thick chalkboard traces: so realistic, Levi's heart had froze for over a good minute.

"You see?", he spoke, swiftly into the darkness. His chest stung with fiery anguish, much like the tears he held restrained inside his eyes. "How loved you are, shitty glasses..."

He never knew why he could never tell them such himself, back when they were still alive.

How could he be such a coward?

He had loved them, then. Loved them, still. Loved them always.

Were they ever aware that he loved them?

He exhaled, tiresome, and clutched his broken hand between steady fingers; a refugee he had built if only to savour the last of their breathing warmth, right before smoke had drowned them worlds away.

Hanji Zoe. The crazy titan scientist. A misunderstood soldier. A tornado that had spun his universe on its axis and ablazed his soul into burning flames.

He had loved them. Intense and achingly pure. He had loved them, although aware that surrendering himself to love was only condemning his emotions to the agony of eternal loss.

Maybe, that was why he had swallowed the words shut, he sought. Why he chose to explode in silence, instead of bombing wholes and make a mess of what little he had left. What would have been the diference, had he told them? Would there have been any?

Earlier that day, Reiner had given him a gift from both Flegel and Queen Historia herself: a fancy ring, of white gold and purple glimmering stones. He wondered, in his now solitude, if he would have put it around Hanji's finger had they breathed longer to keep him company. If he would have been brave enough to place the right questions, in spite of there never existing a fitting time.

He swallowed, impossible, and finally allowed himself free to cry in silence, for the suffering shaking his bones frail was just too much to bear alone.

When was the last time he'd cried like that? He figured, eventually, pain was something a soldier like him had to learn how to live with and in spite of. So he had kept it guarded to forsake his sanity, awfully convinced it would be for the best.

Even when he'd forgotten how much goodbye weighed heavy on his soul. How needed it was to set all hell loose, every once in a while.

He inhaled, sharply, and looked over at the seas through now blurry vision. The moon white reflected round over the rather calm waters; the only witness of his pouring emotion, flowing endless out of him.

Would Hanji know they were free now, thanks to them? That they had all tasted the peace they had once risked everything to discover?

Would they know he loved them, as deep as the ever-unreachable ocean?

The night was still yound and summer was slipping away and they would have been fourty. But they were gone and a piece of himself would always be missing, gone fourty times over with them.

"Four eyes...", he said; voice faltering, left fist closed tight across his chest, there where his heart remained fractured, but beating, still. "Happy birthday."

He assured, then, he was going to live through the pain, much to his terror of even trying. He was going to, if that was what would have made them joyful and content, wherever they were.

He promised, he was going to live for them.

Even when his only and biggest regret was ever agreeing to let them go that day.

"Hanji..." he glanced over at the sky, and extended his hand up open; as though he could touch them one last time, feel them laugh in the cool of the chanting breeze. "I will always love you. Did you know...?"

Stars danced and winked and sparkled blinding atop his head, attesting to the truth behind his words; purple like the stones in his ring. Precious like their favourite color.

He was going to live for them.

Maybe, because they were still watching, after all.

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toastthewolfie · 4 months

Text

Sole Survivor [ A Drabble about Whisper ]

We started this together.

I remember it like it was yesterday, how we laughed, how almost all of you had fallen asleep before the sun fell below the horizon.

How me and Zachary were the last ones up, staring at the stars. How we had an actual conversation for the first time in months.

I remember how quickly it was taken away from us.

How Azure bled out.

How Hazel was rushed when she was about to recover.

How Echo was forcefully ascended into godhood, only to fall in the battle of the heavens.

How Ezra sacrificed themself for a risky experiment that, if it succeeded, would give humanity the ability to fight back.

How Zachary was killed in an attempt to save Ezra from their twisted reality.

How none of it mattered in the end.

How in the end, all of your sacrifices meant nothing, that the end of the war was brought by a two person team unrelated to us.

We started this together but…

Why am I the only one left?

“Because it is you who never truly existed in the first place.”

Note: the last two sentences are what inspired this Drabble, feel free to use the idea if you want?

#oc writing #i should be asleep but I’m not #And I’m going to make it everyone’s problem #Uh this is probably really bad but be nice to me I don’t write often :’)#OC Drabble #shitty little drabble #waha I’m going insane #Thinking abt that one scene in the Mario movie rn for some reason

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darkmatter-nebula · 2 months

Note

Colli gets a water gun

Hello! Thank you for the request!

This takes place shortly before Echoes of the Past.

Drabble: The Water Gun

It was a quiet afternoon on the Boiling Isles as a certain small starboy with a heart as pure as freshly fallen snow and otherwordly fluffy lavender hair and found something interesting in the basement of the Owl House. A water gun, to be specific.

Apparently, it ended up in the Demon Realm some time ago. "Mom, what is that?" Colli asked, a curious expression on his adorable multi-colored face. "A toy from the Human Realm, Little Star. It's called water gun." Eda explained.

"What is it for?" Colli tilted his head innocently. "You fill it with water, and then you shoot it at people." The Owl Lady said. "Doesn't it hurt?" The kindhearted eternal little boy was a pacifist through and through. Eda couldn't help but smile.

"No, Colli. It's fun, actually." Eda decided to demonstrate it. Colli's smile was shining as brightly as a diamond as his mother used the water gun on him. The immortal celestial boy was relieved that the human toy wasn't used to hurt people.

The End

#lost but now found au #the collector #colli clawthorne-noceda-deamonne-whispers #eda clawthorne #fanfic

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voidartisan · 1 year

Text

Welcome to the blog.

Make yourself at home

(Fic masterlist below the cut)

🔹She/her, arospec ace

🔹I go by AJ, or Void, if that feels more natural to you

🔹Psychology student with a fine arts minor

🔹Member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints

🔹Usually screaming about Star Wars (mostly the prequels, or, let’s be honest, anything with Obi-Wan Kenobi in it for more than .05 seconds)

🔹Also a fan of lots of other media, including but not limited to: Tolkien's Legendarium, The Queen's Thief series, Howl's Moving Castle, Pride and Prejudice, Parks and Recreation, Pirates of the Caribbean, The Princess Bride, Wooden Overcoats, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Lunar Chronicles, and some of my beloved childhood fandoms

🔹Occasional artist (read: doodler), slightly more frequent writer

🔹I have one sideblog, @arafinweanappreciation, for Tolkien content

🔹I really REALLY like answering asks so don't be afraid to inbox me random questions if you ever want to

🔹I try to be diligent about organizational tagging for characters and fandoms so things will be easy to find, as well as spoilers for blocking purposes

🔹 #void doodles - my art tag

🔹#talking into the void - mostly me rambling about irl stuff. feel free to block it if you're here for fandom stuff tbh. doesn't hurt my feelings

🔹 #aj writes - my fanfic and related posting

Currently reading: Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien

Fic Masterlist

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka:

against the dying of the light: Sometimes your master's master has more influence on your training than you think. And sometimes they send you a physical reminder.

i saw waves lifting the sea: queer grandmaster-grandpadawan bonding. that's it. that's the fic.

softly in the gloom they heard the birds: you know that meme where the two characters are both trying take a bullet for the other??? yeah.

it's cold on the floor: very short one-shot that i wrote entirely for the joke at the end. potentially the only thing i've written that doesn't contain any angst

Obi-Wan and Anakin:

i owe it to my brothers: an anthology of obi-wan and anakin snippets, currently very short

Disaster Lineage:

fallen sentries: A post-Lawless Arc story focusing on Obi-Wan's particular method of grieving, and how Ahsoka and Anakin have to figure out how to deal with it.

resemblances: Ahsoka looks back on her masters and her training during her time in the Rebellion

come by it honestly: a snippet of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka dealing with Anakin's nonsense, even (especially) when he's not around.

you cried when you cut your hair: exploring lineage dynamics through padawan braids

The Bad Batch:

the final standing domino: Omega gets curious about some old holos Echo is looking at. Angst ensues.

the sincerest form of flattery: omega is growing up a little too fast for hunter's taste, and not fast enough for hers (fluffier than it sounds)

Post-S2 finale drabble: written in the wait between S2 and S3, critically acclaimed (critics being hunter stans in the notes)

Post-S3 finale double drabble: written in the throes of tbb update withdrawals and the wake of [SPOILERS REDACTED]

Cody and Obi-Wan:

ori'vode: Cody is (unintentionally) emotionally assaulted by a preteen [i had to make this summary humorous because i DID cry while writing it. multiple times]

scars: Obi-Wan and Cody snippet from the early Clone Wars, feat. Cody acting his (physical) age for approx. 2 min.

AWOL: an angsty one-shot written in honor of cody's first awol-iversary

Clan Kryze:

aay'han: Korkie snippets, mostly relating to Satine, her legacy, and their relationship

Satine Week 2024: What is says on the tin, a collection of Satine-centric one-shots inspired by the Satine Week prompts.

Modern AU:

and we don't notice any time pass: the main body of the modern au. constructed almost entirely of song lyrics, nostalgia, and and found family tropes. the clone wars but make it napoleon dynamite. sort of

Other/Multi:

ahsoka tano gets her man: the fluff filler episode of clone wars i always wanted but never got, feat. obitine, korkie and ahsoka friendship, and obi-wan and ahsoka bonding.

to catch a tooka: it is a truth universally acknowledged that all stray cats must be in want of a teenage girl to adopt them

sabacc face: trapped in an escape pod? nothing to do? consider card games and accidentally digging up old family drama/trauma

it's every breath that comes before: short qui-gon death fic. his pov for the theed generator fight in tpm. i made myself sad

Obi-Wan and Luke minific: look. Obi-Wan and the twins---

#pinned post #renovating and updating the blog #don't mind me #changing all the stuff i did when i first joined and thought my tolkien sideblog was going to be my most active #before the star wars brainrot #aj writes

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reginrokkr · 2 years

Text

Dark sea is an ocean of a kind, only mirrored in a faraway universe by its sister— also a cradle to the initial birth of the mother tree of this world that bred humankind’s civilization and many different ones to be discovered. This sea should not be treaded by anyone, for long ago it has been corrupted with corpses of dead gods and negative sentiments of others which continue to hang onto a life thread in hopes that their once glory will be restored upon them in a foolish wish that will never come true and it does naught but feed ill emotions that bleed into other living beings.

The few ones whom dare to make of the Abyss a place for living know better than let themselves be fooled by these feelings, for they have already been corrupted once upon a time and fate bequeathed to them taught them better— such was the learning experience that they have now become masterminds of manipulation to lure others with potential to dethrone the gods above to fulfil their own agenda.

Not without spreading chaos wherever they set foot, regardless. Such is the Abyss Order strategy.

This is but one of the many reasons why Dáinsleif refused to become one of them, even if perhaps it would have been the easiest path for him to take. A path of despair, loneliness and guilt to consume him alive until becoming one of them. Instead, he chose the path of rebellion by wishing with all his heart to protect mankind and this world when the light of truth and unparalleled knowledge showed him the way.

In one of his many Abyss Order pursuits did the once Twilight Sword find an entrance to the dark sea after it eluded him so many times in the past. By smell alone could he recognize all negative sentiments that corrupted the existing quanta in the Abyss, thus making out of it chaos and abyssal energy highly detrimental to one’s health should their body be rejected by it. Within the quiescence accompanied by evil whispers to lure any daring passengers, the howl of a beast catches Dáinsleif’s attention. Ready for combat as he may, he unsheathes the sword given to him by the last king of the prosperous Khaenri’ah centuries ago—a sword never to be used unless there is intent to murder, otherwise its will to consume will never allow its user to sheathe it back again.

A sword that thinking in retrospection now, it must have been crafted using dark arts of the Abyss.

Experience treading these obscure paths doesn’t not take Dáinsleif by surprise the prospect of fiends fighting one another, now completely mindless and with naught but a strong sense of instinct to be stronger than others. What he would not have imagined, nevertheless, was to find a boy —not far at all from being a child— fighting a harrowing abyssal creature. However this child might have entered the Abyss, this is no place for any to be in.

All determination to find the Abyss Order once more shifts in favor to keep this boy far away from this place. Thus as an immediate reaction, his right hand coils harder on the handle of the sword as his pulsating heart and visible Ley Lines grow in brightness seconds prior to be veiled in a sapphire aura. Dáinsleif breaks into a run, free hand waving to the front to summon flames of the same color to chain this monster into place before it had an opportunity to strike hard against the teenager and uncaring yet to check on the ginger haired boy, he thrusts his onyx sword against the armored beast into a flurry of slashes as he makes his way above it before ultimately finishing it off with a vertical slash that makes it fate into specks of chaos that melt into the ambiance.

Nevertheless, the defeat of said beast awoke others that out of cowardice to face Dáinsleif, take interest in the boy instead. Surmising that the best course of action to take is to pay attention to the teenager first, the sapphire aura illuminates the Bough Keeper once more so he may effortlessly rush towards the boy to take him by his midsection with one arm. Thus he traces back the way he treaded until this point of the Abyss in search of a portal that still connects to Teyvat—for a close amount of time. Teeth grit as Dáinsleif forces himself to go faster, beasts nigh their toes until his spacial calculations warned him that he stands at a good distance to throw the boy through the closing portal. And throw him he did, in time for him to pass through it to the terrestrial world and turn so he may become a barrier against these beasts’ willingness to cross and make out of the poor teenager their next meal. One single gaze was thrown behind a couple of seconds before the entrance closed completely and the fiends jumped at Dáinsleif in a never ending combat he subjected himself to for the good of this world at Irminsul’s behest to protect mankind.

May you find your way back home, wherever it is.

#◟༺✦༻◞ Echoes of a fallen star ┊Drabble.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ Sapphire flames in their wake ┊IC.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ Memories are all but forgotten in the river of time ┊Queue.┊

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momojedi · 1 month

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Why I am hated in the Star Wars fandom

type. drabble note. based on this ... I'll apologise. warnings. violence, gore, murder, mentions of death word count. 407

star wars masterlist || pinned post

Crimson streams traced a path down his battered face, each droplet a testament to the violence inflicted upon him. His body, a canvas of purple and black bruises, struggled for breath, clinging desperately to the fragile thread of existence. In the midst of it, his eyes remained on Omega, the sole motivation to ward off the approaching darkness.

Omega's senses dulled to the chaos around her, her focus laser-sharp on the fallen figure of Hunter, battered and on the brink of oblivion. Lingering effects of the stormtrooper's taser coursed through her veins, leaving her disoriented and numb.

"Hunter," her voice cracked, tears welling in her eyes, "please, get up." His response was but a faint flicker, his gaze, once warm, now broken and exhausted. Omega's heart shattered. This wasn't the Hunter she cherished, not the man, the father, she wanted to remember. "Hunter, fucking get up!"

But he remained unmoved. Omega's desperation swelled within her, a primal scream trapped in her throat, unable to break free.

Tech-no, not Tech. The figure clad in black armor was a stranger, a twisted echo of her brother. It wasn't Tech who inflicted this agony upon them, who pursued Crosshair and nearly drowned him in the process, who tore her from the safety of her brothers' embrace during the Empire's raid on Pabu. And it wasn't Tech now, aiming the blaster at Hunter's vulnerable form.

It was CX-2.

"Please stop," she pleaded, her voice finding strength amidst the turmoil. "Please, don't do this!" As CX-2 turned to meet her gaze, Omega's resolve wavered. The face she once trusted, who used to spend night after night explaining the Batch’s battle plans and strategies to her until she fell asleep against his shoulder, now twisted by a blind loyalty to a cruel cause, sent fissures through her resolve.

Omega knew her words alone were futile. With a final, desperate cry, she repeated, "Hunter, please, get up!"

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked, a glimmer of hope igniting within Omega's body. But when his lips curved into a familiar smile, she faltered and suddenly, tears blurred her vision. She recognized that smile.

"It will be okay," it whispered, echoing in her mind. "You'll manage, you always have. I love you. Goodbye."

A single shot shattered the silence, ripping Hunter from their midst. In his place stood Tech's hollow shell, smoke curling from the barrel of his blaster. Omega's anguished scream pierced the air.

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scribsbg3hell · 4 months

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Here, have a drabble.

***

The sound of her laugher echoed through the camp, joyous and clear as a bell that rung through the quiet night.

Lucian couldn't help the way his ears twitched at the sound, almost straining as it begins to fade to the dark. It's easy enough to find the source, the dainty tiefling wrapped in soft cloth grinning with an almost childlike delight as Wyll twirled her with the practiced ease of a noble, the two of them light enough on their toes that they almost float. Wyll, of course, was enraptured by her, grinning like some lovesick fool as they danced and spun, as if the world around them had fallen away. Blood and death and terror were just mere concepts, the parasites In their brains keeping them at the edge of oblivion reduced to simple nightmares easily forgotten. Instead, everything was as it should be, a small bubble of a dream where everything was good and safe and kind. A reverie.

The name suited her so well.

And yet, all dreams must end. As the dance between them ends, Reverie bows her head and pulls away from Wyll instead of falling into his arms like he so desperately wished she would. Their hands linger together for a moment, and then she is gone, reality shattering the daydream. It takes a great amount of effort for Lucian not to laugh at the way Wyll's face falls, heartbroken for just an instant before he collects himself, watching the tiefling retreat to her tent with the same look of longing affection that seemed to plague everyone in camp. It is foolish, really, to hope. Reverie was kindness, devotion, a ray of sunlight cutting through the dark, and yet she was fleeting. She would never stay, no matter how much she or anyone else might wish her to. It just wasn't in her nature.

As Reverie’s tent flap falls shut behind her, the sounds of the camp resume almost abruptly, the rest of their companions freed suddenly from the spell of her presence. Lucian feels his lips twitch at the way everyone furiously busies themselves, as if they hadn't been just as enthralled as poor Wyll. Gale returns to his cooking, Astarion to his books, and Shadowheart to her armor. Laezel glares out at the dark as if it had offended her, and Karlach seems content to turn her gaze to the stars.

Lucian returns to his blade, cleaning it of blood and grime, testing its edge for sharpness. It is familiar, though he has no particular attachment to this specific hunk of steel. It was a tool, a means to an end, yet his body craves a specific weight, a specter of a memory that he couldn't begin to remember anymore. He does his best to focus on his work, yet he cannot stop how his mind inevitably wanders. Wanders to blood shed and lives taken, and the deliciousness of the screams of those he cut down. He tries to shoves those thoughts away, but they linger at the edge of his mind anyway, much like the dread Urge that he is forced to contend with.

When he feels himself start to spiral, Lucian puts the blade down at his side, hand still on the hilt, leaning back on his palm with a huff. His head hurt and his body ached, burned with denial, refusal.

It is just a thought.

Reverie's voice is clear in his head, when she had taken it upon herself to burden him with her kindness, so empathetic and gentle when his nightmares had tore at him, as if she could understand the horrors that plagued his sleep. Lucian keeps his face neutral, through he can feel eyes on him from a short distance away, predatory, inquisitive. He chooses to ignore them, rising to his feet and sauntering off to his own tent, trying to mask how tightly he gripped the sword in his hand.

He wonders absently, as the ducks into his tent, what expression Reverie would wear if he crawled into her tent sunk a dagger in her chest. He already knows how it feels to press a blade into her skin, having come upon her in the woods alone one night, breathless and shaky as she tried to cut out an infection that refused to heal. Her flesh parted so easily for the knife as she clung to him, swallowing down her screams as he cut and cut and cut until the air reeked of blood and purification. She didn't make a sound, save for a few gasps, though her face twisted in agony. But then it was over, the wound cauterized then magicked over the next morning, and neither spoke of it.

If he killed her, pressed that dagger slow between her ribs, twisted, would she scream? Fight and claw and bare her teeth until she choked on her own blood, life fading from her with a tired whine? Or would she grab at his arm, hold him steady until the blade was buried to the hilt, grief and agony and understanding in her eyes so beautiful as they both weep? It could be beautiful, watching her light dim. It could be euphoric, divine even. It could be--

It is just a thought.

Bile rises up in Lucian's throat, bitter and acrid, and his head throbs again as he tries to shove the images from his mind. He lets the sword in his hand drop near his bedroll, all but throwing himself upon the pile of furs and cloth he had accumulated over the past few weeks. It is only when the motion causes some unexpected discomfort that he realizes that he's half hard from the bloodied fantasy, and a wave of disgust washes through him.

He ignores it, turning onto his side and resting his head on his arms, horns bumping a little on the hard ground beneath the fur. Reverie's laughter echos through his mind, another memory to fill his empty head, and he wonders how it must feel like to laugh so easily, so joyfully and at ease. He thinks, briefly, that he would like to as well. Perhaps when blood and death did not cling to him like a second skin, coming to him as easy as breathing. He might like to laugh, and dance, and savor those small moments of happiness. One day.

For now, though, Lucian resigns himself to his isolation, the dark, and waits for the nightmares to come.

***

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 tav #ramblings #sorry it sucks i havent written in years #was reading some tavstarion and somehow became inspired to write some durge/tav dynamics #opps

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