#...anyway expect humanized blade soon.

[squidy-tee-png]

Me: Alright! Time to buckle down and draw proper reference sheets for the voices! This is gonna be so much fun!

My brain: Okay, wait. Hear me out. Pristine blade.

Me: ...What

My brain: Make a humanized design for the blade, It'll be funny-

My brain: It'll be really fucking funny so that's all your gonna think about until it's drawn.

#slay the princess #im not kidding ive just been doodling this lil bastard for the past 3 days- #i wanna make ref sheet for broken hero and contra #but nooooooo my brain had to say “what if the blade looked like a hollow knight vessel” #and now I cant draw them. #...anyway expect humanized blade soon.

[mediumgayitalian]

At around half past one, Nico gets a Feeling.

He gets feelings a lot. Nothing he can quantify, just something telling him that something is up, somethings wrong. Or something’s about to be. At this point, he’s learned to trust his intuition, based purely on the number of times it has saved his life; a number he’s long since given up counting. (He’s only ignored his gut feelings three times in his life: when Bianca went on her quest, when his father promised not to hurt Percy before the Titan War, and when he went looking for the Doors. He has learned his lesson.)

So when something at the bottom of his stomach tells him to get up, to check things out — he does.

He knows it could be nothing. (The last time he had a Feeling, it turned out that he had placed a book precariously on the edge of his desk, and it had been about to fall. Not exactly world-saving stuff.) But regardless, he steps out of bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and creeps out of his cabin.

Camp is kind of beautiful at night.

There’s an eerie calmness to it without so many human disasters running about, and the quiet reflects that. All Nico can really hear is the hooting of owls in the distance, the chittering of nocturnal animals and monsters alike, the distant screeches of curfew harpies, and the pleasant crashing of the waves. The air is clean, when he inhales, and he takes the time to hold it in his lungs for a bit, imagining the sweet breath is healing his burned lungs, turning the scar tissue back to something flexible and normal. Whether or not it actually works, he doesn’t know, but it feels nice.

Under the light of the brightly shining new moon and billions of stars, he starts his patrol. Around his own cabin first — there’s nothing, as he expected, the warning doesn’t seem overwhelming like threats tend to be — and then he makes his way around the circuit, checking behind gardens and shrines and inside braziers. He hums quietly as he walks, something preppy and bright the Apollo kids have been hollering for days, and waves to Lady Hestia, sword heavy at his waist.

“Come sit,” she calls, patting the seat next to her.

Nico does.

“Haven’t seen you out at night in a while.”

He hums, toneless this time, leaning back on his hands and mirroring her gaze at the sky.

“Been sleeping, for once.”

“I’m glad.”

He smiles, knowing that she means it. He watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks up his sword, sliding it from his belt loop, and uses it to stoke the flames. She doesn’t seem afraid of it, or wary. To her it’s just a stick of metal. It’s nice.

“You have you been, my Lady?”

She pokes at the embers a few more times, scooping a few to balance at the tip of the blade for a while. It glows with the heat, and he knows he’ll have to sharpen it tomorrow, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe he can do it while Will is in the archery range. It’ll give him an excuse to be at the armoury at the same time, anyway.

“I’ve been well.” She breathes deeply, small smile pulling at her face. “It’s calmer, and more people wave to me. I like it.”

“Good.”

She dismisses him a few minutes later, sending him off with a promise to chat again soon. She doesn’t need to worry about him promising — he makes a point to sit with her at least once a week — but it’s nice to know someone wants his company, so he appreciates it. He leaves with a wave, walking towards the eastern half of the cabins.

Nothing’s amiss. He can hear campers snoring, and see the odd reading light. Malcolm catches his eye as he walks past the Athena cabin and winks, sending a cheeky salute when he sees the sword held loosely in his hands. So far, everything seems fine. He’s beginning to think the Feeling might have simply been about Lady Hestia, so he decides to do one last check around the Big House and then head back.

Of course, that’s where the issue is.

The infirmary lights are always on. They’re dimmer in the night, more of a glow than anything, but there’s an extra brightness streaming out from the windows, and when Nico peeks inside, he sees Will, standing with his back turned at the nurse’s station.

He takes a moment to check his strength, making sure he has the energy for it — dinner last night was pho and he had three bowls, he most definitely does — and sinks into the shadows by the door. He materializes back in the little alcove by the bandage & wraps cabinet, lurking silently while he blinks the dizziness away.

The first thing he registers is soft singing.

He’s facing Will, now, and can see the glow coming from his hands, enveloping a bowl of some kind. He has both hands coated in some dusky pink substance, massaging and gently pounding it against the sides of the bowl, working it through with great care. As his voice gets higher, the glow gets brighter, fading as he dips lower. He sings something about hills and meadows and the breeze, about wing-song, about the sound of flower stems bending in the wind. For a while Nico stands, listening to the melodious ancient Greek, swaying with every pitch and hold. It’s captivating.

Will is almost haunting when he heals.

There’s a divinity in him — in all of them — but he glows when he sings. Not just his hands, and sometimes his head if he puts enough power in his words, but there’s an almost shimmer to the air around him, a shining warp. His skin gets clearer, and his hair goes more metallic, almost, like spun gold rather than blonde. His freckles make his skin into an inverse replica of the night sky, dark specks surrounded by bright empty between them. His long fingers pluck through bright strands of light like a harpist strums their chords; lightly, carefully, skillfully; like a braider weaves their hair. There’s an undeniable age to his magic, a practice that’s visibly replicated millions of times over thousands of years, as if every healer who has come before him links their arms with his, breathes their strength in his lungs. Sometimes, when he does something truly unbelievable, amazingly beyond reason, he flickers — his orange camp shirt fades into a white chiton, or long robes, or a white coat, or a blue tunic. Watching him heal is like watching the sunrise — breathtaking and unique, every time, but powerful in its cyclic archaism.

It takes Nico a long time to realise Will is swaying.

Snapped out of his trance, he begins to notice Will’s long, slow blinks, the unsteady way he stands, the weight he has leaned on the counter. Even his face looks plainly exhausted under the glow, face pillow-creased and eyes bruised, hair mussed, limbs leaden. Footsteps as silent as he can manage, Nico creeps over to the schedule posted by the door, scanning through the scrawled pen ink.

He curses quietly. Will is not supposed to be awake.

There are really only three people who can work the infirmary to its fully capacity, barring Chiron. Kayla, Austin, and Will are the only ones who can magically heal, as much as the volunteers are imperative, so when the camp is in full swing one of them must be stationed at all times. That’s how Will sets it up. A bit of a waste of time, he acknowledges, but Nico knows he has memorized every time a camper who should have been saved. He carries far too much guilt to ever let it happen again, as inconvenient as his rules may be.

Night shift, though, is a need-be basis. If the infirmary is as empty as it is right now, then there truly is no need to keep one of the three of them awake outside their circadian rhythm, staring at nothing. Instead, they take shifts in the on-call room — asleep, but prepared should anything go wrong, should a monster chase a new camper at an odd hour. It’s Will’s turn for on-call. It’s two in the morning. He should be asleep.

And, yet.

Nico recognizes the look in his eyes. There’s a — frailty, to them, a deep-seated, animalistic fear, one he recognises from the hours after his own night terrors. A single-minded panic that cannot be unseated in any logical way, cannot be comforted with any gentle hands.

Nico handles his fear with slashing swords and bruised knuckles. Will, he knows, handles his fear with obsessive, endless preparation.

Knowing full well nothing is going to drag him away from his focus bar actual cardiac arrest, Nico walks right by him. Will doesn’t move. He settles behind him in the old, creaky leather office chair, curling his legs under him and resting his head on the soft arm. He watches Will, watches the almost machine-like movement to his kneading arms, and falls back asleep to his humming.

———

“…Nico?”

He wakes up warm and a little cramped, in the same position he fell asleep. Sun is streaming on from the many issues, blocked from burning his eyes by Will’s hunched frame, facing towards him now, hands and shoulders shaking with equal violence.

“What time is it?”

His voice is croaky and wrecked from hours of singing. Nico is willing to bet his throat is burned as badly as his hands, cooked from non-stop, sun-borne glowing. The divinity that had emanated from him before has abandoned him and he looks young, lost.

“Early,” Nico says softly. He unfolds himself from the chair, stretching slightly — gods, he is going to ache today — and wraps a slow, careful hand around Will’s wrists. “Probably around six, if I have to guess.”

“I don’t remember waking up.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s okay.”

His breathing is heavy, laboured.

“I don’t —”

Nico squeezes gently. “It’s okay, Will.”

Will swallows and says nothing.

“Come on.”

Carefully, letting Will’s stiff joints set the pace, Nico guides him out of the infirmary. The sun shines brighter as soon as he steps outside, but he doesn’t seem to notice bar a tiny, almost imperceptible flinch at the change in lighting. Nico switches from holding his wrists to laying a hand on the small of his back, half-worried he’s going to fall over.

Luckily, he makes it to the Apollo Cabin upright, although the stairs take them a while. The hinges of the old screen door creak as Nico pushes it open, and he sees both Kayla and Austin, up and dressed, jump.

“…Will?” Kayla asks softly, eyebrows creased in concern. She walks over to him when he doesn’t answer, frozen still, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Will leans — almost hesitantly — into the touch. The same blankness from before clouds his eyes, although this time there’s less of the fear.

“Hey.” Nico walks over to stand in front of him, waiting patiently for him to meet his eyes. In the minutes it takes, he hears Austin pad over, standing opposite to Kayla, hands clenching and unclenching like he can’t decide what to do with them. “You think you can sleep?”

Will doesn’t answer verbally, but drifts after a moment to his bed. Nico follows, helping him out of his shoes and shirt. After a beat of hesitation, Austin hurries over, turning down Will’s sheets and helping him crawl in. Soft guitar music begins to play, and when Nico looks over Kayla is fiddling with the CD player, turning the dials carefully. Without much fanfare, Will’s eyes flutter closed, and his breathing slows to something deep and even. His twitching fingers still.

“I don’t think today’s an activity day,” Nico murmurs. “I checked up on him a while after midnight; he’d been at it for hours. He didn’t stop ‘til sunrise.”

Kayla rubs harshly at her eyes. “Fuck.”

“He’ll be okay,” Austin whispers. He runs a gentle knuckle over Will’s forehead, then turns his careful, imploring gaze to Nico. “You kept an eye on him?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Nico inclines his head. “Had a feeling.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Kayla admits. “He was —” She trails off, staring at something in the left half of the cabin — the empty half. “He was like this after the Titan War, too. I think he spoke maybe two words for the entirety of September.”

Nico almost can’t imagine it. The very thought of it makes something twinge in his chest, clench in his stomach.

“We’ll figure it out.” He nods, to convince himself as much as Kayla and Austin, who look to him with way more trust than he deserves. “We won’t let it — it won’t get that bad. We’ll help, and if we can’t figure it out we’ll get help. It won’t be as hard as last time.”

It won’t be as hard as last time because there won’t be twelve shrouds, Nico doesn’t say, but he doesn’t need to. Both Kayla and Austin nod, looking at their sleeping brother with firm resolution.

“This time, we’ll be there.”

#yeah let’s talk about mental health. huh #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #solangelo #nico/will #will/nico #kayla knowles #austin lake #will solace & kayla knowles & austin lake #nico di angelo & kayla knowles & austin lake #angst #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #depression #depressive episode #catalonia #anxiety #my writing #fic #longpost #mental health issues

[okaylorrainee]

words never said

characters. lo’ak & female omatikaya reader.

genre. romance. angst

synopsis. arranged as a mated pair, lo’ak never focused on becoming a good husband for you and often pushed away your feelings for him. only when you’re dying in his arms did he realize what he was losing, but it was all too late.

contains. aged up characters (adults). ooc most likely. character death. unhappy marriage. the sullys never went to awa’atlu. the clan still lives in hometree.

note. counting this as my 180+ followers special ! hehe. i hope you guys learn something from this :p let me know your thoughts! (but don’t be mean i am weak)

also on ao3!

a shawl made of leaves wrapped around your form as you stood silently in the middle of your kelku, watching your mate frantically search for his battle gear. jake sully had called the warriors again for another raid against the sky people who were planning to take over yet another area in your clan. the raids have been happening quite frequently now, and being the son of the olo’eyktan himself, lo’ak, your mate, was expected to participate in all of them. 

you grew worried every moment he wasn’t here. you prayed to the great mother he’d come back to you in one piece, safe and sound, but you knew it wouldn’t always be possible. every time the war party came back, someone would be gravely injured. most of the time, a couple of them wouldn’t even return - their corpses lying cold on the battlefield.

thankfully, your husband was a great warrior. although he was reckless and often didn’t follow jake’s orders, he was witty enough to survive all the hits and attacks of the humans, and also, your brother-in-law, neteyam, would always be there to keep him in check. not once did lo’ak return with a fatal injury, but still, you couldn’t help but worry.

in front of you, lo’ak grunted, securing his battle band around his waist. he grabbed his hunting knife from the ground and wiped away litters of dust the blade caught from lying on the floor. his brows formed wrinkles on his face as he frowned, and you didn’t really know why he was upset again right now.

“please be careful, ma’yawntutsyip.” you uttered softly, but he didn't reply nor look at you. even if it was usual for him to do this, it still hurt you. you tried not to mull over it too much.

still ignoring you, lo’ak turned his back on you as he moved to exit. he was leaving again to battle without saying anything, while you were here, dying with concern over his safety. it pained you so much how it seemed like he didn’t care about you every second of every day since you were mated. but you still loved him anyway. he was your mate, your husband, your second half.

before he could completely leave you, you took the chance to say, “i love you, lo’ak.” something you never failed to tell him every day, just to remind him that you were here, that he had you to come back home to. “please, will you say it back just this once?” it took every bit of your strength to plead to him, you just wanted to hear him say it.

your words made him stop in his tracks. he turned his head to the side to spare you a glance, and you tried to fight his cold eyes. you saw how he clenched his jaw as if he was going to say something, but he sighed and turned away before he could. saying nothing else, he marched out of your kelku.

you felt your whole body relax as soon as he left, you didn’t even notice how tense you were while he was here. still standing in the same spot, you looked around your kelku. some stuff were disordered from how much lo’ak moved them around while he was searching. when the air entered from the opening of your kelku and touched your skin, the heaviness of your heart became difficult to ignore, and you simply inhaled deeply to try to calm yourself down.

tears started welling in your eyes and your lips quivered. you were upset. so so upset at how cold and lonely you felt in your own home right now, so upset that you have to clean up all of these cluttered things as if you were once again fixing up the mess that was your union with lo’ak. 

you tried to keep your sobs quiet as you knelt to pick up the things your husband didn’t bother to put back properly. it was always like this with him. while he never yelled at you nor physically hurt you, lo’ak also was never affectionate to you. it was like he wasn’t even your mate. it was like he was just living with you in the same home, sleeping in the same mat and hammock. it was like he never acknowledged you as a lover with how cold he was towards your advances.

you envied the other couples who would profess their love, kiss and hug, and reassure each other every time the other went to battle. why couldn’t lo’ak just love you, try to, or even pretend to?

from what you knew, to him, you were just someone his parents tied to him for life in order to keep him ‘in place’, to show the people that he is a desirable son and son-in-law like his older brother, to make the people know lo’ak is capable of finding a mate and providing for her and for a future family. 

and you understood how he felt and why he was like this to you. you convinced yourself really hard to. every night when you lay beside him whilst he slept soundly next to you, you were crying to yourself, trying to understand that he was still just busy proving himself to his father, proving himself to the people that he could catch up to his older brother, proving to everyone that he wasn’t just some rash failure. you understood why he couldn’t focus on you, even if you were his wife.

as a husband, lo’ak never fulfilled his marriage duties. he only mated with you once and never again, and that was during the ceremony in front of eywa. many of your heat cycles have passed but he never touched you no matter what you did. you often wondered if it was because he had his eyes on someone else. but you’ve confirmed long ago that lo’ak never flirted with the other women in the clan. he was simply too busy with the war and with proving himself, but you loved him all the same because you supported your husband, you only hoped he’d love you back one day. 

hours have passed since he left. while he was gone, you decided to stock up on some fruit by yourself. you could’ve joined the other women who were also waiting for their mates, but you wanted to be alone so you could think and calm down. you were solemn the entire time, even as you returned back home with your basket full of his favorite fruit.

at the moment, you were sitting quietly in the middle of your kelku, weaving a new mat for lo’ak so he could rest in a clean one once he got home. but the silence didn’t last long when it was interrupted by the stomping feet and crying of a child running to your home. all at once, you dropped everything and hurried to the child’s side, gently taking her into your arms.

you cupped her face and looked at her with eyes full of worry, “what is the matter, ‘evi? why are you crying?”

the little girl continued to sob in your arms. “my brother, please. the tawtute.” her sentence was incomplete, and she was crying uncontrollably but the words ‘brother’ and ‘tawtute’ were all you needed to hear to understand what was going on - the sky people were near, and her brother was in danger.

your breath hitched but you tried not to panic. what were you going to do now? you were not a warrior. you were just a common clan member whose role is to weave clothing and collect fruit for the people. but you knew how to shoot an arrow as it was required to come-of-age, and you knew it was enough to at least help and stand up for this little child and her brother. she came to you because your kelku was the nearest, and there was no time to look for someone else. as an adult of your clan, it is your duty to protect them.

with a deep breath, you pulled away from her and quickly took the old bow and arrow sitting next to your shared mat with lo’ak. gripping its handle tightly, you said, “take me to him.” 

the little girl wasted no time in dragging you with her deeper into the forest. you weren’t sure where she was leading you. every step you took made you grow more anxious about what you were going to face. 

soon enough, you heard the sound of running water nearby, and you understood that a waterfall was just here somewhere. the little girl suddenly stopped running in front of you, and she tugged your arms, giving you a look to tell you that you were here. 

you heard the voices of male humans chattering in the vicinity, talking about ‘dna’ and ‘new avatar’ in their language. you couldn’t understand what they were saying and only those three words gave you the gist of what they were talking about. even if your husband was quite fluent in the language of those demons, you still didn’t understand. lo’ak never taught you after all. but all that matters right now is getting her brother back, you could worry about the rest later on.

you bent your knees slightly to meet the child’s eyes. placing your palm on her head, you whispered. “go hide. i will take care of everything.”

still with tears in her eyes, she nodded at you before running back to one of the trees behind you.

you took a deep breath before stealthily approaching the voices. your steps were gentle as you crouched, the crunch of the leaves you stepped on was non-existent as you made your way closer. as soon as the soldiers came into view, you took a while to observe the situation. the na’vi boy was tied up, back faced to you, and two humans were in front of him, armed with large guns scouting the area. 

you quietly moved and hid yourself behind the tree that was next to you. with your back pressed on its trunk, you took your arrow and started positioning your bow. you can do this, you can do this. you encouraged yourself in your head. there are only two of them. to you, the humans themselves weren’t scary, they were a lot smaller than you after all. just one harsh slap and you could make them fly away. it was their weapons that concerned you, you didn’t understand how they worked.

you held your breath as you stepped away from the tree, arms raised whilst you aimed at the human. you planned to shoot them consecutively before they could react with their weapons, you knew you could do it. and so, without further hesitation, you released the arrow and allowed it to fly through the air, stabbing the human right on his head.

the man hadn’t even dropped to the ground when you took another arrow and stretched your bow to aim at the other one. again, you shot the man on his head, and you watched as both of their bodies collapsed on the ground with a thud.

you sprinted to the boy’s side, who began crying from relief the moment he saw you. when you knelt in front of him, you immediately started to untie him from the ropes, reassuring him that he was safe now and to not worry. as soon as the boy was free, he tackled you into a grateful hug, sobbing into your arms.

“mawey, mawey.” you patted his back, carefully pulling him away from you. “we need to go. more of them will come. go!”

he was nodding as he stumbled standing up. you gestured for him to run, and he obeyed, darting to the direction of hometree.

you stood up to trail behind him. but before you could even walk another step, a loud mechanical thud was heard from behind you. you grew cold, already aware of what that was. you spun around reluctantly and were met with a soldier in an amp suit aiming his firearm right at you.

what happened next was a blur. you didn’t have the time to grab your bow nor react, because when his weapon erupted a loud bang, it was already over for you.

–

the ikrans shrieked as they landed on the branches of hometree. the war party was surrounded by a crowd of family members, all looking for their warriors in worry and anticipation of their return. lo’ak, who was in between his father and older brother, dismounted his ikran as his eyes searched for a particular na’vi among the people. 

he puffed out a disappointed breath when he couldn’t find who he was looking for. were you mad at him because he didn’t say ‘i love you’ back earlier? this wasn’t new to your relationship, so what was different now? you never missed his arrival. were you finally getting tired of him?

lo’ak’s lips pursed as he followed behind jake through the horde that was their clan members. neteyam who was walking beside lo’ak, felt his younger brother’s sour mood but he decided not to mention it anymore. the entire day and weeks before having been stressful enough. with the raids going on and lo’ak constantly going to him for advice about his marriage, neteyam knew if he dared to bring it up, it would only make his brother appear more upset in front of you once he got home. 

as the three of them made their way through hometree, they came across a young na’vi boy wailing in the corner, circled by a few other adults who were trying to calm him down. jake didn’t hesitate to go near them.

“what’s going on here?” jake asked, his two sons standing with him on both sides.

the boy wiped his tears away, trying to meet the eyes of his olo’eyktan. “s-soldiers ambushed me.” he wanted to explain more, but his voice was shaking, and it was all he could say.

“where?” neteyam leaned forward to join the conversation.

“near the waterfall.” the boy sobbed. “i was able to escape because my sister called for help.”

“help? who helped you?” lo’ak asked.

everyone fell oddly silent from his question that it made jake and neteyam look around in confusion. lo’ak raised an eyebrow, waiting for the boy to answer. “well?” he urged him to reply.

the boy only hid himself in the arms of the na’vi who was comforting him, sobbing louder than earlier. what could he say to the husband of the person who saved him? when it was already clear to him what happened when a bang echoed through the forest?

the people looked at lo’ak with sympathy, and he stared at them one by one, trying to process and understand what their expressions meant. he grew cold every second when none of them uttered anything. what were they doing? why were they looking at him like this? like they were apologizing? 

lo’ak’s expression darkened. your absence, their apologetic looks. it couldn’t be, right?

he released a deep exhale as he straightened his back. lo’ak’s world stopped as realization struck him. suddenly, everything was silent. he couldn’t hear the child’s sobbing, the people talking around him, and neteyam calling his name from literally right beside him. all he could hear was a long high-pitched ring on his ear, and there was a string in front of him ready to snap any second.

his lips were parted as he breathed heavily, trying to calm himself whilst he turned and walked away from them without a word. jake was calling him but he ignored and continued to his ikran. you? you helped that boy? you weren’t a warrior. how could you fight? lo’ak’s jaw clenched as he thought about it.

neteyam hurried to lo’ak’s side, grabbing his arm to catch his brother’s attention. “bro, calm down.” 

lo’ak snapped his head at neteyam, eyes burning in anger. “calm down? how can i? my wife, my mate. she is in danger!” his voice raised, catching the attention of almost everyone around them. lo’ak harshly pulled his arm back from neteyam, and all the man could do was stand there dumbfounded.

jake nodded to neteyam with a knowing look as lo’ak mounted his ikran in front of everyone. the animal shrieked louder than ever, mirroring the burning anger of its rider. and as lo’ak commanded his companion to fly away, jake and neteyam ran to their ikrans and followed suit to fly to you.

lo’ak couldn’t think straight as he flew, and his ikran could feel it. his blood was cold, and he was shaking in worry. he was hoping, praying to the great mother silently in his head that he understood their looks wrong and it wasn’t you who he was going to find there. that you were just asleep in your home, tired from weaving, and that’s why you weren’t there earlier when he arrived. lo’ak was sweating, even as the cold air ran through his skin as he flew - he didn’t know what he would do if it was really you.

for the past few weeks, lo’ak had been visiting his older brother, asking him for advice on how to make things better for your relationship. neteyam was always the better one, and even lo’ak couldn’t disagree with that. lo’ak knew that he struggled with expressing his emotions and with controlling the relationship especially because it started out rough when he initially didn’t want to be with you. he was hoping his brother could help him sort his thoughts out, or at least, help him form better words to explain and plan out the slow change he wanted in your marriage.

lo’ak learned to love you as months with you went by. at first, he thought you were pretending to love him and that you were settling for him because he was used to the others mocking him for not being as great as his older brother. but lo’ak saw how genuine, kind, loving, and caring you were towards him - how could he not fall? 

lo’ak treated you harshly because he felt bad that you were tied to a failure like him. he wanted you to find someone better so you could be happier, because he was still in the process of finding himself. but lo’ak knew that deep down, he couldn’t really let you go. just thinking about you being with someone else irked him so much, he would rather be skinned alive than to live through a day seeing you with another man. and so, lo’ak built up his courage, and tried so hard to prove himself to everyone, so that one day, he could love you, and nobody else would be worthy enough for you than him. after all, you were his mate, his wife, his second half.

lo’ak, neteyam, and jake arrived by the waterfall just in time when a soldier in an amp suit was picking you up with its hands, motioning to walk away from the scene.

lo’ak’s eyes glowered at the sight, blood boiling as he became angrier. your limbs were swaying as the metal suit held you, and lo’ak knew you were unconscious. his ikran glided through the air at immense speed as he yelled from his throat, taking his bow out and aiming the arrow straight at the soldier inside the suit.

the amp suit collapses in an instant when the arrow stabbed through the human’s head. the sudden motion made the suit’s arm throw your body into the air, and you fell harshly on the ground with a cruel sound. 

lo’ak kept his eyes only on you when his ikran eventually landed, jake and neteyam right behind him. lo’ak practically jumped off of his ikran as he rushed to your side. from his rear, jake was in the background ordering neteyam to scout the area and look if other soldiers were around, but lo’ak ignored them and only focused on you.

lo’ak knelt beside you, grabbing your arm as he assessed your body. jake towered behind lo’ak, and he could only watch sadly for his son - he knew that from how you looked right now, you were already dead even before they arrived, but he couldn’t bring himself to point that out to his grieving son.

“no, no, no. please, please.” lo’ak shook his head, refusing to believe the state you were in right now - blood running from your mouth and everywhere else that was shot in your body. this was the first time you could’ve heard the concern in his voice for you, but you couldn’t.

lo’ak began tearing up at the sight of you, and he forced his tears away so he could assess your face better for any sign of life. “you’re not dead, you’re not dead.” he repeated to himself as if he was convincing himself. 

when you didn’t answer a word nor any movement, his grip tightened on your cold hand, and he yelled a cry. it was the first time jake saw his son cry that much. “please come back to me, baby, please!” he pleaded, hands moving to cup your cheeks. but your lifeless eyes only stared back at him. 

i love you, lo’ak. please, will you say it back just this once?

“i see you, i love you! i always have, please!” he wailed the words he never said, the words you have longed to hear. but it was too late, your arms were limp, and you weren’t responding; you couldn’t hear him anymore. your body was turning cold every minute that was passing; you were dead and no matter how much lo’ak pleaded and cried beside you, you weren’t going to come back. he knew this, but he was refusing to accept it.

jake could only watch as lo’ak started to yell out his cries. 

the regret of being too late, the regret of losing his other half forever, the regret of never giving you the love you deserved, the regret of never saying the words you deserved to hear - would eat lo’ak up for the rest of his life, because you died never knowing how much he loved you too.

©️ okaylorrainee 2023. please do not re-upload, translate my content anywhere without permission.

tell the people you love that you love them before it's too late!

#loreraine #wordsneversaid #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x you #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #avatar 2 #atwow angst #atwow loak #angst #lo'ak x omatikaya! reader

[kusagrasskusa]

MK Villains meeting/hearing about their (and your) child - PART 2

Erron Black, Shang Tsung, Baraka, Kano, Quan Chi, Shao Kahn edition! (Part 1)

This time, we’ll be featuring…

Shinnok, Dark Raiden, Noob / Bi Han (he wasn’t very good), Scorpion, Reptile!

Enjoy ;) @kryptofancientdreams

Shinnok

Shinnok: My child, where had you gone?

Child: My brothers and I have a plan to defeat you.

Shinnok: Then, I suppose they will have to go through with it without you.

—

Raiden: You fall from the light, sister.

Child: We are the children of Shinnok- you are just as horrible as I.

Raiden: You’re speaking just like him.

—

You: You promised our child the Netherrealm, then go missing.

Shinnok: A couple of inconveniences got in the way.

You: That human actor? Are you the same husband as before?

—

Child: I’ll kill Quan Chi myself if you can’t.

Shinnok: He is much stronger than yourself. Just wait until I win it over for you.

Child: *Pout* why! I can defeat you, so why let do it?

—

You: You need to talk to your son.

Kronika: Why so?

You: He fails to give [child] the gift of the Netherrealm.

—

Shinnok: Have you met your [sister/brother]?

Raiden: She is no sister of mine.

Shinnok: You may ignore the truth, but you know your place.

—

Child: You can't hide from fate.

Shinnok: My fate is not to die at the end of a worthless human's blade.

Child: A demi-god. And Cage proves humans aren't so wortthless.

—

Child: Brother! He escaped!

Raiden: Do you think yourself powerful enough to defeat him?

Child: Perhaps... If you can prove it.

—

Johnny Cage: Your daddy ever tell you about me?

Child: I tell him about you, actually, Ninja Mime.

Johnny Cage: Then be ready to tell him about this, got it?

—

Raiden: How does a human betray her realm?

You: If my child can have a father, that's how.

Raiden: A kind sentiment, with horrible reasoning.

—

Fujin: I had no idea we had a sister.

Raiden: If the reader has a thing for Shang Tsung and would like to see our sister...

Fujin: The author has a story for that? Can I check it out here?

—

Fujin: I won't call you mother.

You: I don't expect you to. You're a grown ma- God.

Fujin: Just making sure you're fine with that.

—

You: Give [child] back!

Raiden: I will not let you or Shinnok destroy my [sister/brother].

You: You fool! This is why Shinnok hates you!

Dark Raiden

You: Are you even going to be there for [child]?

Raiden: [She/he] can live without me. But [she/he] cannot live without Earthrealm.

You: I won't let you leave so easily this time!

—

Fujin: Where is your father?

You: I won't let you find him.

Fujin: The darkness grows over you too. I'm sorry, niece.

—

Revenant Lui Kang: I can never kill Raiden, but I make him live his life in misery.

You: He is finished with your whines, champion.

Revenant Lui Kang: And soon, I'll be finished with you.

—

Raiden: Where is [she/he]

Revenant Lui Kang: You took away my life, Raiden. Now I took away yours.

Raiden: And I will finish with this life of yours!

—

Child: Not. Another. Step.

Raiden: You dare cross me?

Child: You killed them, father. You are not deserving of the name, "Protector."

—

You: Your father's angry at you.

Child: You two have lost yourself in darkness. I trust you mi longer.

You: You forget: I'm not as merciful as him.

—

Cassie: so, you're dad's a god? Must be nice.

You: 'Til he becomes a dark God. Then it kinda sucks.

Cassie: Eh, my dad sees you as a daughter anyways. That's a plus.

—

Raiden: I never could have imagined it end this way.

Child: Father, you misunderstand!

Raiden: You helped a Reventant. You betray your realm!

Noob Saibot / Bi Han (seperate)

Noob: I am not your father.

Child: You may be dead, but you are still my father!

Noob: Bi Han is dead. You are just another orphan.

—

Child: Saibot is not as fun to play with. He's just a shadow.

Noob: I cannot always be with you, child.

Child: Then why did you ever hsve me?

—

Kuai Liang: My [niece/nephew]. You have my mother's eyes.

Child: I am not your niece. I was born to Noob, not Bi Han.

Kuai Liang: He is my brother and life, and in death.

—

You: You left me to raise a child on my lonesome.

Noob: I did what I must to protect [her/him].

You: You'd protect [child] better dead then alive.

—

Hanzo: It was a mistake. I was blinded by my rage.

Child: I actually came to thank you. I want to learn what you did.

Hanzo: How I killed your father? It went something like this...

—

Bi Han: I love you.

You: You have yet to prove it. Spend time with [child] if so.

Bi Han: That will have to wait until later, unless you can bring me home yourself.

—

Frost: I thought your dad said women weren't allowed to be heirs.

Child: No, no. He said bitches aren't allowed to be heirs.

Frost: Your family blood are all assholes.

—

Kuai Liang: I told you, we cannot waste anymore time.

You: If I can beat you, then I can take down my father!

Kuai Liang: Yes, but you can never bring him back.

—

Kuai Liang: So you finally settled down.

Bi Han: Correct, brother.

Kuai Liang: Let us see how prepared you are to raise a child, then.

—

Bi Han: Our daughter does not enjoy watching us fight.

You: You seem to forget; You are the leader, but I am the First Lady.

Bi Han: ...She will have the might of her mother.

Scorpion

Child: I understand. I will never mean enough to you.

Scorpion: I love you the same as my son. Never doubt that.

Child: Then why do you care for them more than me?

—

Quan Chi: It would be a shame for it to happen again, yes?

Scorpion: [Child] and Y/N are under my permanently protection.

Quan Chi: Protection... only worked so much, didn't it?

—

Raiden: You look just like your father.

Son: I am more hellbent than him.

Raiden: Then you can never be saved.

—

You: Who will it be, your dead family or your new one?

Scorpion: My dear wife, I am sorry. But I cannot let go.

You: I see. Then I suppose you won't be needing us anymore.

—

Johnny: I saw this chick on my way here. Literally, smokin' hot.

Scorpion: *angrly grips chain* It was you who harassed my daughter?

Johnny: *clicks tongue* Yup. Not good on my part.

—

Child: I wish I could've killed Hemuri and my brother myself.

Scorpion: He is no brother of yours any longer!

Child: Good. Then if I could kill him, it would be far less meaningless.

—

Scorpion: You took my child away!

You: Why would you care! We're meaningless compared to your dead family!

Scorpion: Bring [him/her] back!

—

Quan Chi: I thought I killed you a long time ago.

Child: That was my brother. I had come to avenge my father's clan.

Quan Chi: Then suffer the same fate.

—

Kuai Liang: Scorpion found love once more.

You: *smiles* He did. Although, he cannot look past what you had done.

Kaui Liang: That was neither I or my brother. Send the message.

Reptile/Syzoth

Cassie: So, what's your favorite bug to eat?

Child: Ew, bugs are my father's thing. I prefer the flesh of chickens.

Cassie: Huh. Gotta say, not what I expected.

—

Erron Black: *Whistles* Ain't you one fine specimen.

Daughter: Half Saurian, half [human/edenian/whatever]. *wink*

Erron Black: That so? Wanna come "put venom in my veins" girlie?

—

Takeda: I think I've seen this somewhere.

Child: Avatar? I get that a lot.

Takeda: Maybe... or furry conventions.

— (Enter Alice Cooper)

Johnny: I wanna kiss you but your lips are-

You: -venomous poisonnnn.

Johnny: Yeah, how do you kiss that guy anyways and not melt?

—(Exit)

Syzoth: *"My child" in Saurian*

Child: *"Father" in Saurian*

Syzoth: *:)*

—

Shang Tsung: I thought Reptile to be the last of his species.

Child: That was before he had me to a [human/edenian/whatever].

Shang Tsung: I must expirement with such a cross breed.

—

Jaque: I know Tiana had to kiss the frog to turn him human, but to have a child with the frog?

You: There's more than meets the eye, my dearest.

Jaque: Don't talk that close to me. Don't know where that mouth has been.

—

#mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat raiden #mortal kombat scorpion #mortal kombat #mk reptile #mk 9 #mk11 #mkx #mkx mortal kombat x #mortal kombat xl #dark raiden #shinnok #mk shinnok #scorpion x reader #raiden x reader #noob saibot #mk noob #noob x reader #sub zero x reader #mk syzoth #syzoth x reader #mk raiden #shinnok x reader

[parsnippety]

Cecilia

I'm finally getting organized! No more procrastinating. I've edited this story and reposted it to @spaced-out-human, where I'll be continuing with *gasp* a larger plot.

- Original story below the cut -

Sounds are powerful. That goes without saying- the most severe (?) sounds you'll find your average sentient species making are soft clicks/rumbles. Most languages developed through touch, or something like sign language. The species that can make noise don't have much control over their pitch. They don't need to. Others "hear" with specialized pads, designed to pick up the slightest vibration... (Don't ever touch them, you hear?) Anyway-

You know how the human voice can literally break glass? Yeah, so do the higher-ups in any organization that knows what they're doing. In the Rhusngi's Immigration fleet, crews are chosen through a complex AI system. Applications take Jovian aeons to process- But this ain't Rhusngi Immigration.

There's no one name for what we are. A bunch of idiots, taking random jobs here and there- wait, what? No, we're not- We just do deliveries! *unintelligible alien muttering* Sure, it can be dangerous, but we're not stupid. Our crews communicate, for Dsheng's sake.

I understand your concern- Ship 7 does have a more, er, potent blend of species... they balance each other out- The two humans? Hhhhhhharmless. *xe hisses, frustrated.*

｡.:*☆*: .｡:*.:*☆☆*

"Aaaaaalright, Bumblebees! Another day, another dollar! Everybody, up, up, up!"

Kit's voice crackled with enthusiasm and static. It reverberated through the black-and-yellow ship, signaling the start of another shift. Most of us had been on board for "decades"- that's what Faizan says, at least. We've gotten used to each other by now, what with all of us being so... different.

It's been a few months since we picked up Kit and, erm... There have been some difficulties, sure, but yeah. It's made us closer, if anything. -Besides, now it's even. Seventh ship, seven crew members! Faizan chimes in, startling the mantis-like being. She promptly donks him upside the head with one blade-like arm.

He chuckles, then looks her in the eye- or tries to. "We just got some new cargo. Needs scanning." He holds a small device up to his mouth and speaks into it, making a series of clicks. He presses a button, adding- "Kit, you too- be at the loading deck in 5."

☆☆

Pretty soon, most of the crew joined Needih (insectoid), Faizan (human), and the new cargo. Kit (also human) was late- as per usual. But eh, she's on time when it really matters...

The cargo wasn't particularly large today, nor moving- thank God. "...And it's our turn to scan it in, got it?" Faizan lectured the younger human as he carried a box across the room. The two got to work, moving packages from the hatch as the rest of the crew chattered away.

Kit laughed when he stopped talking-

"You know you're breaking my heart..."

Faizan stopped in his tracks, a smirk on his face.

"You're shaking my confidence, daily." He replied.

--Here's a link for y'all--

He didn't know what he expected- The song was old. Really old. And Kit had never even set foot on Earth...

Kit started tapping the side of the box and stomped to a rhythm Faizan hadn't heard in forever-

"...'Celia... you're breaking my heart..."

Faizan's eyes lit up. Of course Kit sang the higher part, and of course he knew the lower one.

"You're shaking my confidence daily!"

Needih was in awe. She felt her shell shake with the vibration- it was impossible to describe. Sometimes, on her home planet, wilder sounds would align- but that was incredibly rare. Almost mythical. The crew all "heard" in different ways. We're lucky 'cause they're similar enough to communicate...

"... I'm beggin' you please to come home!"

Jaws dropped. Scrounge and Sdaer put down their drinks, eyes wide. Scrounge let out a deep rumble and tilted his ursine head. Faizan rolled his eyes and kept singing- the crew had never seen him like this...

The two humans sang like nobody else was in the room. They felt a sense of belonging, of harmony, like nothing else in the universe.

For the first time in years, Faizan dropped the package. He and Kit tapped out a beat on every available surface- the walls, the floor, even the boxes. And they laughed. It scared the hell out of the rest of the crew, who were too stunned to do anything but stare.

Goodness knows how Kit was able to sense Faizan's movements before they happened- and vice versa. Sure, they both missed a beat here and there but what did you expect? They're only human.

"Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!" He exclaimed, conveniently skipping to the good part. Kit grinned.

☆☆

"God, I haven't sang in years..." Faizan paused and looked around the room. The crew was just. In shock.

"To, skh..." Sdaer struggled with the English. "To quote you, what the fUCK was THAT?"

"That was harmony." Kit said with a smile. And the humans just? Got back to work? Kit hummed softly, and Faizan smiled (without baring his teeth, to be polite- as if he and the newbie didn't just break goodness-knows-how-many-galaxies' regulations).

"How do you know Simon & Garfunkel, anyway?" the captain asked.

Kit looked down at the box they were holding. "...Does it matter?"

"No. No, it doesn't."

#humans are space australians #to be continued

[liminsendhelp]

Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

Tags: slight description of reader (chubby, muscular, strong, denying gender as a concept), possibly slightly sociopathic/autistic reader, profanity, denial of authority, evil scientist on the way to becoming.

I don't speak English. I didn't proofread the text.

enjoy.

Part 1. Part 2.

You're quiet in bed. For real. Without the pretenses and masks of a woman subordinate to someone else's dominance, when you're not alive enough, not human enough. When the beast of animal desire inside makes you dig your nails into your palms. When you want to put out cigarettes on yourself to block out the unbridled power of the urge for sex.

It's always been a problem. People have crumpled their gut. They put on layer upon layer of approval and expectation.

Your essence was causing the thin material of socialization to fray at the seams.

To top it all off, you're easily obsessed.

Your blood boils at the sight of beauty.

He's ugly. Like everyone else.

Ordinary.

Yet you can't name a single time you've looked at Price without wanting to rip his face off.

He says, in that quiet and understanding tone of his, in those chuckles and snickers of his.

You're not even a nurse. You're a researcher in a tiny development lab. You have no education whatsoever (except for art), taken in by acquaintances to help you out, before asking you to finish some psychiatry courses just to make sure. Science dragged you down so that you were up to your ears in philosophy, psychology, old treatises and other crap.

So there you are, cleaning animal cages, helping out with easy experiments, coaching timid grad students on how to interact with small rodents. And then, at one point, you're set up as a lab technician. And you're not dumb, you have ideas, you have a desire to understand the workings of the brain. straighten it out, twist it back up and straighten it out again.

Of all the specialists, you're a little more interested in behaviorism, a little more obsessed with crime.

Brain cutting brain.

You're quiet, calm, frighteningly cold. Your gaze is dark, like a constantly dissecting blade. So what? You're better than those idiots, even without a proper education. You're smarter, more thoughtful, thorough, workaholic. Those above you - senior researchers, PhDs and postdocs - know you're good. Good enough to keep you around.

The institute is a restricted facility. It's not weird that they moved the labs to an outhouse inside the fucking military base, is it? No. After the incident, half the staff went on paid leave. Understaffed, overworked, stressed out. Neuropsych, cognitive-behavioral, experimental, psychiatric, chemical-pharmacology and blah, blah, blah labs downsized in limited space.

Each department used to have animals to do research on. Now your work is all theory and documentation. This problem was soon promised to be solved, but no one really hoped for a super secret lab with experimental subjects for every taste. From mouse to human.

They have unwanted prisoners, don't they?

Anyway.

You were transported to the base after a small-- Terrorist attack at your institute. Again, pathos on an all-cosmic scale, nothing of the sort happened, but "national brains and serious research" must be saved, come on.

No one was hurt.

Not even injured.

And now it's not like you're severely stung for budget and space, despite the relatively small footprint of the allotted space.

The most significant downside here at the base is that even while trying to stay out of the allotted space as much as possible, you see extra people. Military.

They're all killers. They're killers, and you have a taste problem. They want to clean up the developments for the good of the military, and you imagine the horror they're going to be in when, under interrogation, people break their teeth on each other while overdosing.

They walk under your windows, stand against the opposite wall when you go out for a late night smoke, show up in the lab to stick their noses where they'll get their balls bitten off and shoved up their asses.

The military are no more welcome than they should be, after all, the scientists here have only themselves to thank on the heads of the fucked up officials who decided it would be a good idea to sign you all up for this cohabitation.

And doors slam, eyes scrutinizing your white coats and circles under your eyes, hands reaching for developments, noses poking into all your dirty laundry.

But they shouldn't be anywhere near it.

You're in your second month of work, trying to function as you're used to - mechanically. But today your senior's not here, Dr. Moon's away at a useless security conference. Usually she'd be kind enough to bring you a bunch of food from the cafeteria.

You're not a little girl. You can't live on a stash of sweets and coffee without worsening your already obvious gastritis. And you need a normal amount of food to keep your body functioning. You've always been meaty, no match for thin, slim, graceful girls, some of whom had the superpower to survive on a lettuce leaf (not taking into account goddess nymphs with healthy appetites and excellent metabolisms, such creatures were a myth in the flesh).

But, you don't want to go out to this mess of heads and dirty mouths.

You clench your hands into fists, pressing your nails into your skin. You're going to have to do this anyway. You're perfectly capable of not eating for a week, thanks to your unhealthy relationship with food, but you're not going to torture yourself. After all, you've been on the wrong side of self-loathing for a long time now.

Now what went inward is actively being broadcast to those around you.

So you put on your coldest mask, clench your teeth tightly, and pretend not to notice the scrutinizing stares from all sides. You're stared at by your coworkers because you never go out into the light. The soldiers stare at you because you look like a pathetic mound of snow among their dusty greenery.

You think you're perfectly capable of eating alone because your coworkers are permanent idiots in their surprised stares and whispers.

But when you sit down at the table, with seemingly as disinterested in each other as possible eaters, both soldiers and medics begin to stare even more intensely. Like little kids. Are those some marshal generals of all the earth at your table?

How's your diplomacy going over there?

"Can I sit here?" You ask evenly, almost forgetting to give your voice a questioning tone.

"Of course, miss." The voice is deep and soft.

You definitely sat down with the wrong people.

"Thank you, I won't take long."

You don't look at them. No need to. Dr. Moon is coming tomorrow and you won't have to crawl out of the sink anymore.

You eat fast, two minutes for the whole meal. The military must realize that's possible, right? They used to mock you for that ability. Now, you unconsciously take it personally when they laugh at you from afar. That's why you hate the school system. Cafeteria, really? Just give us each a bag of dog food.

You rise from your seat to escape into your reports, hypotheses, and research.

"What's your name?"

No. You didn't hear that question.

It's probably rude, since they're high-ranking.

You'll be out of here faster than they can take offense.

"Miss?"

Will you fucking calm down, you idiot?

"Run me through the database." You almost growl, speaking in lower case.

Stupid. Startled, you look up.

The blue-eyed freak, so appealing, puffing with calm control, seems amused rather than pissed off.

Thank the Goddess, thank any Force that covered your ass and you were taken as entertainment.

Blue eyes make the dry semblance of shame in your chest scrape sandpaper across your ribs.

"I can already tell by you that you're a bitch." It sounds from behind you. Expectedly. You can clearly see from the face of the man in front of you that he's unimpressed by this outburst. The burning blue melts you from the inside out with two heartbeats, and you dare to interrupt the deafening silence of judgment around you.

You drop the apology and carry your body back to your lair. You only exhale as you lock the door from the inside with the key. As if that will save you. People won't forget.

Dr. Moon reprimands you from the doorstep the next day. You fell asleep at your desk again. She shoves you onto the small couch in her office. While she shreds the mail, you sleep peacefully for a couple hours.

"Honey? Come here."

Oh, that tone. Are you in trouble because of last night?

They couldn't be more touchy, which one of those mutts snitched on you--

"Your initiative has been approved."

You find yourself on your feet, your hair tousled, your clothes askew, but all your attention is on the screen.

Confirmation letter… authorization to conduct data analysis… for detection… with command support… attachment to teams… supervised access to files….

You blink, then reread it again.

"What's that?"

"You didn't think they'd let you play spy, did you?"

There was hope. But no, it's the other thing that's weird.

"I only asked for an archive. Ideally to observe from afar and interview recruits."

"You and I both know, darling, you're just waiting for a chance to sit your ass down and duck your head into papers. You wanted the internship, go get it." Dr. Moon sits back as contented as can be. She was the force that kept pushing you, wanting to create a diamond.

You wished you were more like hydrogen. To be present everywhere so that you couldn't be seen anywhere.

"And what am I supposed to do?"

"One team is available. Someone from the local legends. But they've agreed to work with you."

No! You let out a low scream. Then you squeeze out a loud sob.

"Can I say no?"

"I'll put laxatives in your next meal."

You sigh.

"Acting like a child, Doc." The good-natured, acerbic face in front of you contorted for a second. She hated being called that.

"That's not for you to tell me, sweetheart. Get your work plan in here, we'll review it. You go to work tomorrow."

#limin #john price #price x reader #price #tf 141 #gnc women

[neuvisex]

Hiyaaa, i have a request but it may be triggering so if you dont feel comfy writing it, please let me know and i'll completely understand <3

If possible, may i requests scaramouche x reader who's um..like..struggling? with uhm..suicidal..like..this is hard to say but like. struggling with self harm..??? uhm. like cvtt1ng on their arms and thighs and they have alot of scars from it too and he finds out? fluffy ending..?? sorry..

im going through alot so uhm. yeah. but once again-! totally okay if you dont feel comfy writing it-!! i dont want you to feel like im guilt tripping you or anything too!! its all your decision <3

But anyways, Lots of love!! 🐈‍⬛💜 have an amazing day/night!!

♣︎ Immortality ♣︎

You find yourself facing a dead end, and the one to help you out is none less than the last person you expected.

TWs: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mild gore, unhealthy behaviors

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, gn!reader

Summary: Scaramouche finds out reader is struggling with their own self.

A/N: I too struggle with SH, so this was kind of self-indulgent... I don't know if it's fluffy enough by the ending but, well, at least it's not tragic either...

Blood. Your house is filled with a hideous, stale odor that spreads through the walls and shakes the core of the structure. As soon as Scaramouche senses it, his heart begins to race in anguish. No, no, please, not blood. He runs across the room with his legs wobbly, your name leaving his mouth in stuttering words.

— Y/N? Y/N, where the fuck are you?!

When he gets to the bathroom door, his body freezes. Scaramouche falls to his knees in front of your haggard body leaning on the bathtub, his hands trembling in a loss of what to do. For the first time in a long while, he feels genuine fear. Your arms are dyed a terrifyingly familiar dark red, a discarded blade in the puddle that spreads, smearing the floor. The two of you stare at each other for what seems like ages, his desperate eyes meeting your downcast ones.

— Please stay with me. Come on, stay with me.

You open your dry lips to say that everything is fine. That this is just a habit, something you do to ease the pain inside.

— What…?

Scaramouche is useless. How had he not noticed before? Your clothes always long, covering your arms and legs. Your distant, sometimes even evasive, behavior. Your fake smiles, while your eyes were filled with suffering. He should have guessed earlier. Before you had done it again.

— Y/N, I… calm down, I’ll help you… I’ll help you…

The boy's voice cracks as tears roll down his cheeks. He rips off a piece of his own robes and uses it to stop the liquid seeping through your skin, pressing firmly against it. When you ask why he's doing this for you, Scaramouche falls silent. Indeed, why? Why is he, who had renounced human emotions a long time ago, lying at your feet, begging you not to leave him?

— …please don't do that anymore. Please. — he repeats like a prayer.

**

Night falls quickly. You lie on your bed with your arms bandaged as the blue-haired puppet watches you intently, his features puffy and reddened.

— Are you angry? — You ask shyly.

Scaramouche looks like he can't believe what he's hearing. Now that both of you are more stable, he lets out an emotionless laugh.

— I'm not…I'm just wondering…why? Why mistreat your own body? Why didn't you ever tell me? Why did you…

Your hands find his in an act of consolation. He seems reluctant at first, but eventually relents and relaxes under your touch.

— Listen, I… I'm not exactly the best person to talk about self-love, but you, I mean… yeah, life sucks most of the time, I won't deny it, but you're a valuable person. And if you don't see it yet, one day you might. While you are in this process… count on me. Take it out on me, lean on me, cry with me. Just don't do that to yourself anymore, okay?

#genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact #genshin oc #genshin wanderer #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic

[skatermusic]

@mikiusol was tempting me to write some Heatwave and Cody bonding, and like Amazon, I deliver.

Heatwave trained in the bot lounge, punching his training dummy to blow off steam. Not only had Blades almost blown their cover by sneezing, (Chief had covered it up by explaining to the mayor that the bots have an automatic vent clearing system) Kade, being the dumbass that he is, let human sparklings climb on him with their sticky digits, and to put the whipped cream on Heatwave’s shit sundae of a morning, that damn cat had crawled up a tree again.

Needless to say, Heatwave wasn't pleased, and he let it show. After an hour of beating the crap out of his training dummy, he noticed his energon levels were low. He jumped off the platform and made his way to the special fridge where their energon was stored.

But, he had to pass by Cody to get there, and that was when he heard the child sobbing.

Heatwave's temper evaporated like a puddle in July. He knelt to Cody's level and gave the boy one hand to hug, while using the index finger on the other to gently rub his back. "Hey, hey, hey. Shh-shh-shh, don't cry. What's the matter, Cody?"

Not even Heatwave's universal translator could decipher Cody's response. Heatwave decided to wait until the boy's speech was more coherent before he repeated the question. For now, though, he could guess.

"Was it Kade?" As if Heatwave needed any more excuses to kick his partner's ass.

Cody shook his head.

"Are you sure Kade didn't make you cry? Cause, no offense, kid, the bots and I have met 5 idiots since we crash landed on Earth, and that older brother of yours is 4 of them."

Though Heatwave's comment wasn't very nice, there was some truth to it, and that made Cody giggle a little.

Heatwave sighed in relief, interpreting Cody's laughter to mean that no offense was taken. The last thing Heatwave ever wanted was to hurt Cody's feelings, especially since he was already crying.

"Is anyone giving you a hard time at school?" Sure, beating a human sparkling to a pulp wouldn't be the best way to blow his cover, but Heatwave had always hated bullies, no matter the species.

Cody, again, shook his head.

Heatwave paused his guessing game for the time being. He held Cody for about 10 minutes before the tears stopped. Who knew such tiny optics could leak so much?

Cody sniffed. "You're gonna think it's silly."

"No, I'm not." Heatwave shook his head.

"It's just......" Cody sighed. "It feels like all I do is sit on the sidelines while you guys get all the fun. Mr. Prescott and the rest of the town even forget I exist sometimes!" Tears welled in the little boy's eyes all over again.

Heatwave's energon boiled. Oh, HELL no. This would not stand. He needed a word with the Chief as soon as he and the others returned.

He calmed himself when he noticed Cody was about to cry again. "Awwww, shhh. Don't cry. Your dad and I will fix this."

"Thanks, Heatwave." Cody wasn't convinced, but trusted the alien anyway.

Once Heatwave could guarantee that Cody wouldn't burst into tears all over again, he suggested watching some TV. Cody agreed, and turned the TV on.

It turned out that My Pretty Pony was on. It would snow in hell before Heatwave admitted this to anyone, but he loved that show. Cody just watched it because he wasn't in the mood to channel surf.

Once the episode ended, Heatwave spoke.

"Cody."

"Yeah, Heatwave?"

Heatwave scooped the little boy up in one hand and propped up Cody's chin with a finger. "Look at me. There's no such thing as a stupid reason to cry." This was something Heatwave had to remind himself whenever Blades cried over his show being cancelled or his fanfictions getting mean comments. He gently set Cody back onto the couch.

"Heatwave?" Cody asked.

"Huh?"

"Who's the 5th idiot?"

Heatwave didn't have to give his answer a moment of thought. "Mayor Luskey."

Yeah, Cody was kind of expecting that answer. Well, it was more of a 50/50 between him and Mr. Prescott. Mayor Luskey's horrible decisions as mayor could fill a book, and Mr. Prescott's show "I Dare Me" has lead to more than one rescue.

#transformers rescue bots #rescue bots #maccadam #rescue bots heatwave #cody burns #my fanfiction

[spnexploration]

Collared part 37

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: You deal with killing Azaneth.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word count: 2.5k

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 36 <- -> Part 38

Dean watched you zone out a few times as Azaneth taunted you, probably getting caught up in the memories. The taunting of him and Sam was annoying, but he could just brush past it. It cut much deeper for you.

He rubbed your back, hoping to bring you back to the present.

Your eyes focused again. He watched you look at your blade, then up to Azaneth. He expected you to say something more to Azaneth, or perhaps to look to him and Sam.

So he was surprised when you stepped away from him and plunged the blade straight into Azaneth’s belly. He was mildly impressed, it was a good stroke for an amateur.

You didn't really react afterwards. Both Sam and Dean hastened forward, hands splayed out in case you fainted and they had to catch you. But you just stood there, looking at the body, still tied to the chair.

“I forgot there was a human inside,” you said in a small voice. “Did- did I just kill a human?”

Dean exchanged a quick look with Sam, over your head. He didn’t want to be honest with you, but he knew it would backfire if he wasn’t.

Sam, however, beat him to it. “It’s not as simple as that,” he started, voice sincere and quiet. “There are ways to get a demon out of a human, like an exorcism, but often demons will react when you start doing one and kill the host. And if he’d treated the vessel badly already, they might have been going to die anyway.”

You nodded slightly, still staring.

“Remember in the car,” Dean continued, “Azaneth was whacking the hell out of that man’s body, including his head. I don’t think he would have survived, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, his last vessel died as soon as he smoked out,” Sam added.

Dean watched your body closely, trying to find any clues about how you were feeling and what you needed from him and Sam. You were still just standing there, staring. He didn't know whether to give you more time or step in and try and get you to move on. He looked helplessly at Sam.

Sam edged closer, face full of concern for you, but not interrupting you. Dean got the feeling he was letting Dean make the moves here.

Dean looked back at you. He remembered how much Azaneth and the witch had taken away your free will, made decisions for you. He wouldn't be like that.

“Sweetheart, you can take as long as you want,” he said quietly. “Do you want Sam and I to stay with you?”

“What happens to the body now?” you said, not really answering him.

“Sam and I will salt and burn it to prevent the man becoming a vengeful spirit.”

“Can- can I be there?”

“Of course, if you want to.”

“What about all the blood?” you said, gesturing to where it was pooling on the ground and on the angel blade still in your hand.

“We’ll clean it up. We're pretty used to dealing with blood, gore and gross stuff in this job.”

“Ok.” You returned to silence, still staring. Dean waited. He figured you’d have told him if you wanted them to leave.

You slowly turned away from Azaneth’s dead vessel. Sam held out his hand and you gingerly relinquished the angel blade to him. It looked like you’d been clutching it tightly, and your fingers were hard to open.

You now faced Dean. He wasn’t sure what you would want from him, so he waited to follow your lead.

“Dean?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, Bambi?”

“Can we go outside?”

“Course we can.” He gestured to the door and followed you out, nodding to Sam on the way.

---

You sat on the picnic rug that Dean had grabbed on his way out. The man himself had gone to stand up out of your way but you'd patted the rug next to you, so instead he sat. You noticed him glancing at you frequently, but he wasn't interrupting you or trying to talk. He just sat and let you be.

You were happy he wasn't demanding anything of you. You just wanted to sit and watch, but it was better with company.

Plus you were pretty sure he still had his gun and angel blade hidden on him: your own personal bodyguard.

You looked into the forest. Sometimes you thought about your life with the witch, about everything you had lost just because you were the first unlucky human to walk past her on the wrong day. About everything that could have been.

But sometimes you just sat in the moment. Not thinking anything. Just enjoying being outside, feeling free.

It was a strange mix of emotions. But it felt better being outside.

It felt better sitting with Dean, too.

“You ever regret what led you to become a monster hunter?” you asked Dean.

“A demon killed our mum,” he said quietly. “I was 4, I carried 6-month-old Sammy out of our burning house.”

“Shit. I suppose I should be grateful no one ruined my life until I was an adult “

“We still had our Dad. We travelled around the country, changing schools and being left in motel rooms while he hunted.” He took a breath, then continued. “I wouldn't say it ruined our lives, but for a lot of my childhood I was jealous of others who had things I didn't have – a mum, a house, reliable food.”

“Thank you for telling me, Dean.”

He looked over his shoulder and smiled at you. “Some bits of the job are good though. It's not all doom and gloom.”

“What, like being left with a slave?” you joked.

“That was... different,” he said with a smile. “Hopefully we didn't fuck it up too much.”

That gave you pause. “Crap, I never thought about what it was like for you two.”

“That wasn't what I meant-” Dean hastened to say.

“No, no, it's ok. I know you weren't trying to make it about you. But I just realised. I just- I never thought.”

“You had no need to think about us,” he said, somewhat gruffly. You had a feeling the gruffness was masking his discomfort. “Still don’t. We didn't have the hard part.”

“It's not a competition, Dean.” You took a breath and contemplated before continuing, “When I think about it now, it would be hard having someone who blindly does what you tell them, and doesn’t understand the context of anything.”

The corners of his mouth threatened to spread into a grin. “Well, yes. Sammy used to bitch that I was ordering him around when we first started hunting without Dad, so it was probably karma that I had to say absolutely everything in a way that you didn't take as an order.”

You laughed, “I used to think you were so stupid, not even knowing how to give an order properly.”

“Couldn't believe I didn’t think of the 'Everything I say isn't an order’ order until like 3 hours before we got the bloody thing off you.”

“And then I was kinda a bitch to you afterwards.”

“No, you were hurt, and trying to work out your place in the world, and grieving, and I dunno, lots of other shit. And I never wanted to be your master, but I was, and it was fair enough to push back on that.” His smirk came back and his tone turned playful again, “That's not to say I'm not happy that the yo-yo has dialled down.”

“Yo-yo?”

He suddenly seemed to get embarrassed, perhaps regretting saying it. “When you, ah, would go from happy to screaming at the drop off a hat...” He scratched the back of his neck.

“You had a name for me?” you said with mock indignation.

“I- uh- I'm sorry- I shouldn’t have-”

“It's ok, Dean,” you said with a smile, “You really need to get better at recognising when I’m messing with you. A yo-yo is a pretty good analogy.”

He looked relieved, “Sammy always said you’d be funny when the collar came off.”

“You didn’t think so?” you said in mock indignation again, but this time he recognised it and smiled.

“Well, all I ever got was ‘yes, sir’, but he used to tell me you were sassy to him.” You laughed.

“You know,” you said after a moment, back in a reflective tone, “as much as I appreciate everything you've done for me, from when I had the collar and afterwards, you can relax now. I'm not fragile.”

“I know you're not, Y/N,” he said sincerely. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”

You looked into his eyes. He looked back.

The look, somehow, intensified.

You suddenly felt embarrassed: this D&M session had suddenly become far too deep, far too meaningful.

“Umm, how about some breakfast?” you said hastily. “I'm starving.”

“Good idea,” Dean said, moving to stand up. He looked like he was relieved that the uncomfortable moment had passed too. He held out his hand to help you up, then gathered the picnic rug. You tried to help, but he was too efficient. He held his hands out, indicating you to lead the way inside.

You were starting to feel a bit better.

---

“I want to go shopping,” you told the brothers as you all sat on the kitchen floor eating breakfast. It was sweet that the brothers would still join you down here, if a little embarrassing.

“Ok,” Dean slurred with his mouth full. Sam looked mildly exasperated at his brother.

“What do you want to buy? Clothes?” Sam asked, looking back at you.

“Yeah. I’m still keen for some pants I pick myself.”

“Fair enough. When do you want to go?”

“Umm, today? Or is that too soon, do you guys have to do a lot of work dealing with, umm, you know...”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Dean said, mouth now empty. You caught Sam flicking Dean an amused look, but weren’t entirely sure why. “You say the word and we'll go.”

You nodded and returned to your breakfast. You could do this. After all, you'd killed Azaneth!

---

Dean pulled into the same carpark as last time. “You sure you're ok, Bambi?”

“I'm fine, Dean. Not fragile, remember?”

“Didn't say you were,” he said a little gruffly, opening his door and getting out. You were feeling surprisingly ok about this. A little anxious, yes, but not as badly as you thought you'd be.

You started to walk to the shop door. You can do this. Fake it till you make it. You are a strong, confident woman. This is not going to define you.

Also, the Winchesters are right behind you.

That was reassuring – your personal bodyguards, plus they'd saved you last time when you'd freaked out – and a motivation to show you were fine. You wanted to stop being the damsel in distress to them.

Ok. Deep breath.

Doors open.

You headed for the women's clothing racks, the same ones you remembered from last time. You looked through the pants, feeling choosier than last time when you'd just grabbed the first pair you'd found. You'd looked up the size on your current clothes 3 times before coming, so you grabbed that size and headed to the change room.

In a tiny moment of insecurity, you looked for the brothers before going in. Sam gave you an encouraging smile from where he was, a couple of metres away, pretending to look through a rack. For a moment you couldn't find Dean, but then you saw him, making himself at home in the 'husband chair’ they always put near the women's change rooms. He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes, amused by him.

You headed into the change room. You tried on the first pair. Not a great fit, but ok. Didn't love the colour against your skin tone though.

You tried on the next pair. Oooh, this was better. You moved back and forward, looking at yourself in the mirror from all angles. Yes, these were perfect!

Feeling more confident, you tried on the remaining pairs you'd brought in. Eventually, you decided on 2 of the pairs. You got dressed in your own clothes again, hanging the ones you didn't want back on the rack for staff to return to the floor, and carrying with you the pairs you'd liked.

You left the change rooms with a big grin on your face.

Dean stood up and smirked at you. “That looks better than last time,” he whispered when you were close enough. You smiled back at him.

You started to head for the door, feeling overjoyed at your success.

Dean appeared at your side and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, then started to lead you to the side, away from the doors. You looked at him with a frown, wondering what he was doing. “C’mon klepto,” he whispered, “We still have to pay for them.”

You gasped quietly and raised your hand to your mouth. You had been about to shoplift, so caught up in choosing pants that you'd utterly forgotten about this step.

“Hey, hey,” Dean said quietly, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth. “Don't spiral on me now. You haven't bought anything in a shop in how long? I ain't blaming you for forgetting.”

You nodded.

“Alright, you wanna pay or you want me or Sammy to?”

“Me,” you said, fighting to regain your confidence. He pulled out his wallet and handed you some cash, taking his arm off your shoulders.

“We’ll be right behind you if you need us, ok?”

“I'm fine, Dean,” you said, frustration starting to edge into your voice.

“Yeah, you are,” he said with a wink. You rolled your eyes and walked to the registers.

Paying went smoothly and then you were headed to the exit. Success!

Sam gathered you in a bear hug outside, his long arms enveloping you. “Thanks, Sam,” you whispered.

“I'm just happy I won't have to keep pretending I know what I'm doing, buying women’s clothes,” he joked. You playfully punched him in the arm and headed for the Impala.

---

“You remember that time you accused me of buying her a pony if she batted her eyelids at me?” Sam teased Dean. You were long gone, in bed asleep.

“Yeah, you were letting her sleep on you in the living room.”

“Remind me why we’re mopping blood at 2am?”

“Because the stupid demon bled everywhere.”

“Or is it because someone couldn't agree fast enough to delaying cleaning up when a certain someone else wanted to go shopping?”

Dean stopped what he was doing to look at Sam, “You wanted me to say no to her healing?”

Sam grinned at him, “Of course not, but I still found it funny how quick you were to answer.” He put on a fake-posh voice, “Will Madame require one stable or two?”

“Shut it, bitch.”

“Just so long as you know how adorable you are, jerk.”

.

.

.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester angst #dean winchester hurt/comfort #dean winchester saves you #protective!dean winchester #protective!dean #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfiction #collar #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dark fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural x reader #slavery #sam winchester x platonic!reader #supernatural #supernatural angst #protective dean winchester

[mxnkeydo]

i loved you ‘til my dying day ✧ percy jackson oneshot

✧ summary the war against gaea has finally come. percy and his friends are thrown into the battle, but when something draws him closer to his girlfriend, annabeth, he doesn’t expect it to end like it does.

✧ genre angst, sad

✧ word count 1.4K

✧ warnings foul language, mention of blood

✧ link to main masterlist

✧ a/n ok. so. i actually have no clue what i wrote because the inspo for this came late last night while i was scrolling tumblr and came across this prompt. hope this is okay (even though it is most likely trash heh) also tagging @urfriendlywriter thank you for the lovely prompt! (side note: reblogs would mean the world to me!!)

✧ ✧ ✧

Demigods are merely the gods’ pawns, Percy thinks, swinging Riptide in an arch around him. They were used, they were manipulated, and they were laughed at. Being the son of Poseidon is not as great as they all think it is.

And what’s the point when the Fates have it all planned out, anyway? What is so great in defeating all those monsters when you were just destined to die in the end?

He glances at his girlfriend, Annabeth, through all the commotion. Her blonde curls bounce as she moves like a human tornado, and a vicious scowl is seared onto her face. The demons around her visibly back off, unsure of how to approach in a non-suicidal way. In a daze, Percy proudly mutters, “That’s my girl.”

But a single moment of inactivity could cost him his life; a new batch of giants are gaining on him already, smiling like the devil had descended to take his soul. He slashes through them all with his blade, finishing them in a matter of seconds, soon staring at the empty space where they once stood. Their remains – that black, sparkling dust – float to the ground and settle in the grass. It should give him a good feeling, eliminating all of those monsters, but instead all he feels is a certain uneasiness that makes his stomach churn.

Yet, there is nothing he can do about it other than fight. Chiron said earlier that they are helping the gods, but really, they are only helping themselves. After one Great Prophecy, Percy knows that it’s all a lie, that the immortals needed them to stay alive. They managed just fine when it was only them atop Olympus. They were all just lazy and prideful and indolent and Percy has had enough.

As he’s fighting his way to the middle of the crowd he catches sight of Annabeth once more and Percy feels it again; that anxious feeling that has shivers running down his spine, like there’s a ghost breathing down his back. He turns, but there’s nothing there other than more monsters, more demons, more creatures to kill. Almost instinctively, he slices a charging hellhound in half, wincing a half-second later when he realizes it could have been Mrs. O’Leary.

His own power scares him. Percy has never admitted this truth to anyone, not even Annabeth. Sometimes, fighting in a battle was like being twelve years old again, standing back and watching his seventeen year old self slay the bad guys without batting an eye. He used to think it was some great feat, but not anymore. Death, regardless of who died, is still death.

Suddenly, a wind comes rolling their way and Percy can’t help but ease his muscles as he briefly allows it to wash over him. It’s a short, stolen moment that reminds him that the world isn’t all bloody and violent and full of vengeance. It could be beautiful too, if they let it. If they stop destroying, destroying, destroying, and start creating instead. For the first time, Percy wholly understands his girlfriend’s passion for architecture; it’s all about making something new, building something exquisite for the coming generations to admire.

For the third time, he looks at her. He feels a strange pull, like an invisible force yanking him in her direction. Percy knows his instincts are always right, but…

But nothing. His instincts are always spot on. If they tell him to go to Anmabeth’s side, then that’s exactly what he’ll do.

Percy pushes past demigods, both Greek and Roman, as they fight hard—and more importantly, fight as one. In his peripheral vision, he spots Reyna’s long braid whipping out, smacking a monster in the face. Next to her is Piper, looking like a living, breathing death wish. Put a dagger in that girl’s hand, and she turns from sugar and spice to straight up murderous. Percy thinks he sees Grover too, somewhere. His chest does a painful pang at the thought of his best friend, and that they might not see one another again.

Percy’s closer to Annabeth now, only a few feet away. He opens his mouth to call out to her, to let her know that he’s okay, to tell her that they won’t be separated ever again.

And there it is, fiercer than ever. That ominous feeling that something bad’s about to happen. Before he even knows it, Percy flings himself in front of Annabeth with a savage battlecry that manages to pierce his own ears.

Time stops. The world ceases to turn. All he can see is…

Blood.

Deep crimson blood, coming from… his sternum? Percy presses his fingers to the wound deliriously, and feels a sharp point sticking out of his torso.

Percy Jackson, age seventeen. Cause of death: a spear to the abdomen. It sounds ridiculous; he, the demigod that underwent the curse of Achilles, dying from a spear wound? Percy manages a smile as his knees wobble and bend underneath him. Riptide clatters to the ground.

“Seaweed Brain?” Her voice is distant, like he’s underwater. “Seaweed Brain–Percy, stay with me.”

Vaguely, he hears her shout for medics, for someone from the Apollo cabin, for anyone, anyone, who will help him.

“You’re going to be fine,” she assures him, frantically, but it sounds more like she’s only reassuring herself. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. As long as we’re together, remember?”

Percy tries to utter a word, but instead coughs up more blood, staining the dirt around him a sickening red. “Wise Girl, I’m fine,” he croaks with difficulty. His hand still trembling and weak rises to cup her face. “I’m– hey, look at me.”

And she does. Her eyes are red and bloodshot and grief-struck. Her once-tan skin now seems blackened and gray. “You’re bleeding,” she whispers, grabbing his outstretched hand. Her chest rises and falls with deep, desperate breaths as she laces their fingers together and places them on her heart. “I swear to all the gods, Percy, if you love me one bit you will stay conscious, you hear me?” Annabeth’s voice trembles as she tries hard to push the tears back.

“Don’t scold me,” Percy protests feebly. “Am I not in pain?”

“Percy! Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, ma’am.” He grins slightly, then winces once his eyes land on the blood pooling from his stomach. Annabeth must have noticed because she lifts his chin and kisses him hard, a year’s worth of passion and desire poured into it. When she pulls away a split second later, she’s full-on sobbing. She presses kisses to his face, to the top of his head, buries her face in his hair.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispers, and then she’s seven years old again. “Please, don’t leave me again.” She hiccups. Then: “Fuck, Percy, why would you do that? Why would you get yourself injured like this?”

“Because I love you, Wise Girl.”

“Percy—“

“No, wait. I love you. I love how your brain’s always whirring with some new plan, I love the sound of your laugh, I love the way you smile at me. I love everything about you. I want you to know.”

“Percy…stop,” Annabeth says softly. “We’re going to help you, please...”

“Remember when I fell into the canoe lake at camp? That was funny.”

“We’re in the middle of a war and you’re making jokes?” Her eyes suddenly spark furiously behind a wall of tears.

“Oh, and remember the time you nearly killed me during sparring?”

Annabeth snorted at that, her lips turning up into a trembling smile. “I destroyed you, admit it.”

“Annabeth,” Percy breathes. “I—I love you. So much.”

“No, you are not dying on me!”

“Annabeth.”

It takes her a moment to respond. “I love you too,” she says with difficulty, like the words are being ripped out of her mouth.

“Tell my mom I love her too, okay? And—and Paul. And Grover. And Frank and Hazel. Chiron, too. Everyone.”

“Percy, no, stay with me—“

He soaks in the sight of his girlfriend one last time—her stormy gray irises, her princess curls—before closing his eyes.

Annabeth shouts for the medic again—a guttural, anguished call, and it’s the last thing Percy hears before he breathes his last next to the pine tree on the border of Camp Half-Blood.

#pjo #percy jackson #oneshot #prompt #writing #annabeth chase #percabeth fic #fic

[lets-try-some-writing]

It's that year of time, so Imagene Optimus rolling into base light up like a freaking chirstmas tree after falling asleep at a truck stop or something.

How he suppose to transform with all theses lights going all over his frame???

I didn't know that people randomly decorated each other's trucks, but I can still see this happening. Prime is such a workaholic, he likely would just straight up pass out at a truck stop after a particularly draining patrol. Hopefully some Christmas cheer can lighten him up a bit!

🎵Oh Christmas Prime, Oh Christmas Prime🎵

The Autobots have known about the holiday called Christmas for quite some time. However they have never had an reason to celebrate it... that is until the children came into their lives and Optimus ended up rolling into base far more "cheery" than expected.

He had accidentally fallen into recharge while undercover at a truck stop looking for Decepticon activity. It had been somewhat late at night when he woke again and felt many very drunk looking human males climbing all over him putting... some sort of wiring on him?

Not wanting to scare the humans or blow his cover, Optimus remained still, watching and waiting to see just what in the pits they were doing. Eventually the human males hopped off and promptly passed out on the sidewalk, completely intoxicated. Optimus could feel the wiring they put on him, but as there was little he could do about it in the middle of the open, he opted to return to base. However as soon as he hit the road, Optimus realized just what the wiring was.

Lights. He was positively covered in multicolored lights, all of which were glowing, powered by a battery on Optimus's trailer.

When he arrived at base the very first thing he was greeted with was uproarious laughter from Miko, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack. The rest of the team were more confused than anything else as the lights were something they had learned were usually only found on houses or trees during the Christmas season. Ratchet tried to untangle the mess of lights, but the humans were rather good about wrapping it around ever cog and crevasse in Optimus's frame. Bumblebee and Smokescreen tried cutting off some of the lights with their blades, but there were simply too many lights to effectively remove them. Not knowing what else to do, Optimus decided to attempt to transform and maybe tear the lights off.

It was a bad idea.

The children fell to the floor clutching their stomachs in laughter as Optimus managed to transform and promptly tangle himself up in all the tights even more than before. Stuck looking like a contortionist on the ground with lights woven in-between his limbs, plating, and even his tires, Optimus could do nothing unless he wanted to risk harming his sensitive inner wiring.

The team tried, they really did try to get all the lights off him. But for all their efforts they were simply too large to get all the tiny little lights out of Optimus's frame. And so until a better solution was devised, Optimus was stuck looking like a glowstick of red, green, and gold. The children of course, capitalized on Optimus's predicament and decided that making him into a proper Christmas tree was the only correct choice of action.

They requisitioned Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus and had them move Optimus up against the wall so that he wouldn't be as uncomfortable in his pretzel like position. They then started methodically putting little Christmas ornaments all over his frame. Miko made a makeshift wreath and put it around him neck, Jack covered him in ribbons, and Rafael put a golden star on Optimus's helm.

It didn't end there. Optimus soon had his plating painted to look more festive, snowflakes, glitter, and other Christmas related things covering every visible part of his armor. Miko also put a little Santa hat on his final, much to Optimus's agitation.

Optimus was not fond of being made into a living lightshow, but he relented and allowed the children to do as they wished since there was nothing better for him to do anyway. The kids had a blast dressing him up and the team were a bit distracted watching Optimus's Christmas transformation to work on a way to get the lights off.

After a while they got Fowler to get a team of experts in to get all the lights off, but not before the children got a picture or two with the visibly unhappy Prime.

Extra

Optimus: I am not doing this again

The kids: Please! Just this once!

Optimus: ...Fine, just this once

The kids: Smile~

Optimus:

#transformers shenanigans #maccadam #transformers prime #transformers #tfp optimus #tfp kids #christmas prime #hehe christmas prime #I can see the kids changing the whole song just because #optimus prime

[yanderes-galore]

For my second request, may I request Walter Sullivan from Silent hill 4, the room? I’d imagine that he could be a cool Yandere to do. It can either be headcanons or if reader was supposed to be a sacrifice at first before he started his obsession with them. Anyways, thank you again for considering doing this request (it’s my final one this open ask box round since everyone deserves a chance to get their ask in 💙) Thanks again!

-MsPlacedHero

I'm not very familiar with Silent Hill 4 yet I did my research! Hope you enjoy :) Just a warning, I made this darker than my usual stories due to the character. So expect triggering themes mentioned in the TW section. You have been warned!

Yandere! Walter Sullivan Concept

(Silent Hill 4: The Room)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Delusional behavior, Obsession, Death, Murder, Mentions of religious sacrifice, Clingy behavior, Trauma, Forced affection, Manipulation, Blood, Stalking, Kidnapping, Breaking and entering, Suicide mention, Cults, Rituals, Mutilation, Haunting/Paranormal, Yandere watches and holds you when you sleep, I get creepy with this one because he is a creepy man, I like to write unhinged characters at times, I don't condone any of this like usual, This is to depict horror, Forced relationship.

When it comes to Walter you can view his obsession as having two different parts.

When he was alive... and when he becomes a ghost.

You most likely first meet Walter when he was alive.

Sometime during his life, before he resorted to the killings, Walter was vulnerable yo kindness.

His view on humanity/society is that they're all cruel in his delusional mind.

So I imagine he'd get attached to you if you tried to help him when he was struggling.

For example, helping him when he was homeless.

Walter hasn't experience much kindness in his life so he easily clings to it, similar to when Eileen gave him her doll as a little girl.

You don't understand why he sobs so much when you try to help him.

Turns out... helping this one homeless man becomes your greatest mistake.

Like you said, Walter may see you as a needed sacrifice to obtain Paradise and see his mother at first.

Once he begins the sacrifices for the ritual he probably begins to stalk you.

Walter would eventually decide not to sacrifice you when his obsession settles in.

He loves your kindness and wants you to direct it towards him.

You may be the one good thing humanity has to offer in his eyes.

So I imagine you'd be spared from his blade... for now.

No, instead your fate may be worse.

You're the obsession of a religious fanatic serial killers who has killed countless victims of all ages for some sort of ritual.

Just because he isn't going to kill you doesn't mean your safe.

Walter most likely has worship yandere characteristics paired with delusional yandere behavior.

He sees you as important to him and feels he should pursue you.

You should witness paradise... you seem like you deserve it.

Walter most likely has no idea how to process romantic attraction.

He hasn't been close enough to anyone to really explore it.

So why does he feel this obsessive need to be closer to you...

Very close....

I imagine there's a pause in his killings where he just... finds you.

He stalks your home, be it a full house or an apartment.

For now he just watches your life.

Soon he gets bolder and tries to get into your home.

Maybe he succeeds before you notice.

Walter does seem like the type to cling to his darling.

He'll watch you as you sleep, maybe even lightly reach out to touch your skin, afraid you may break or something.

He may even be the type to try and hold you in your sleep to add to the horror of this situation.

He's not a good or sane man.

Walter just seems like a yandere with no boundaries, he feels his darling is perfection and that he's blessed to be in your presence.

Even if you're unaware.

As he's already committed murders by this point, this most likely alerts the cops as you call them out of fear.

In fact, your second "formal" encounter with Walter may be right before he's arrested.

Walter maybe decided to get bolder and tried to enter your home when you were awake.

He coos to you through the door and window about how you're meant to be.

You are a key to paradise and he'll reward you for being so nice in a world of corruption!

Meanwhile all you see is the homeless man you helped years ago trying to break into your home.

Safe to say before Walter can get his hands on you he is arrested.

Which leads into the second part of his obsession.

We all know in the original story he dies in jail by his own hands as the 11th victim of 21 sacrifices.

Which due to the cult he is a part of, he continues on as a ghost to finish the ritual.

I imagine as a ghost he'd immediately haunt his darling while searching for his final victims.

You'll notice it through hallucinations and portals to his "dimension".

The entire time Walter's playing with you, telling you in his own way he's still in your life.

Ghostly touches drift over you and you see visions of him.

Safe to say you feel like you're going insane.

Walter still keeps an eye on you while trying to finish the ritual.

He tells you in "dreams" that he'll show you paradise.

When he eventually meets his supposed "mother" he wants you to meet her.

For some reason he feels a strong connection to you and believes this is "love".

However, Walter most likely has never seen people display this type of love.

So he feels forcing himself into your life to gain your attention must be the right way.

Walter is delusional and thinks you must love him too, even as a ghost.

In his eyes... the fear in your eyes is just excitement.

I unfortunately think your fate is the same even if Walter loves you.

Eventually he feels the only way for you to be together is if you join him.

Which means, sadly, your death.

Walter promises he'll be gentle while he does it because he cares.

He says that as a ghost you can be with him in paradise after the ritual is complete.

So please don't struggle much as he carves the numbers into your flesh...

The pain will finish once he has your heart.

Hearts are needed for the ritual.

Yet for a little while Walter finds himself holding yours in his hands with an expression of adoration.

By the time you wake as a ghost, Walter is there to greet you.

He gives you a smile, claiming it was fate to meet you.

He's happy that he can finally show his love for you.

Here is where you belong... right with him.

Normally acts of kindness towards strangers is rewarded...

However you can barely call this a reward, despite what Walter keeps telling you.

Walter, regardless on if he's alive or not, would be obsessive over your touch.

He wants to hold you and just stay there.

Humanity is corrupt to him... yet you're different.

So he must preserve you.

To him, your murder was not only important for the ritual, but to keep you from becoming like the rest.

In his eyes this is mercy, this is a reward for helping him out.

Now... he's helped you too.

Here, when paradise eventually arrives, he'll take you with him.

He can't wait for you to meet Mother.

#yandere silent hill #yandere silent hill 4 #yandere walter sullivan

[mikathemonster]

“getting handsy”

author’s note: hey everyone! this is my first piece, so I'm pretty stoked about it :))) just to clarify, this is a slightly different AU in which you possess the elven blades Gandalf and the gang find in the troll's cave (everything else storyline-wise is relatively the same, though). this took me two nights to write, mostly because i kept getting so excited to write it that i couldn’t sleep! it was originally supposed to be an assassin Y/N with the tagline being “getting handsy?” but that derailed as i wrote this so who knows! maybe i’ll write another with the original idea! anyways, let me know what you think! also, this was originally going to be two parts, with second being a little more smutty. let me know if y’all still want that!

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 4,039

summary: despite unwillingly joining Thorin’s company at the suggestion of Gandalf, it seems the cheeky brown-haired dwarf prince who disarmed you is slowly growing on you

content warnings: fluff, bruises, suggestive language and a little flirting, angry dwarves, mentions of a village being burnt down, honestly it’s from the lotr franchise so i’m just gonna go ahead and label it PG-13, y’all know what you’re expecting

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

It had been a long three days of traveling east, the heat and wind reminding you of simpler times when bathing was a luxury; for you see, you had been carrying precious artifacts with you in order to sell it to a buyer just past the Carrock, towards Mirkwood. While the artifacts had no real use to you, you wondered curiously of what your buyer could want with three Elven blades, and why they needed it so urgently that you haven’t even the time to wash the wind from your hair. I mean, come on: after orcs, goblins, and foul-breathed men, you were supposed to guard these swords with your life?

Truth be told, that was the way of life you had come to know for the past three years; a life of smuggling, a life of delivery, and ultimately, a lonely life. But there was no room for relationships of any kind when you were known well for your messenger capabilities. Various parties, all of devious backgrounds, would seek you out to deliver messages, goods, and once, even a prisoner. It was by their tongues that you were known well as The Untouchable, a moniker you had gained after seemingly cheating death 5 times to deliver a set of precious jewels to an Elven king. And as such, people believed you to be untouchable by even Death himself, though you wouldn’t necessarily agree. As a matter of fact, a part of you wondered if you were growing less fond of your uncommon occupation; the past three years had already worn you dull at times. But then again, you hadn’t a clue of what you’d do if it weren’t for these recent gigs.

And so you continued your passage to the east, towards the mountains and ultimately Mirkwood. The sun had set just moments ago, and you knew you had to seek shelter soon; traveling at night had become increasingly more dangerous these past few months, for reasons unknown to you. And while you weren’t excited to make camp in the Trollshaws, it seemed safer than continuing along the East-West Road into the murky night.

It didn’t take long for you to set up camp, keeping yourself inside the hollow of an old tree to avoid thieves in the night from finding you and trying to covet what isn’t even yours. These swords had been more trouble than they were worth during your journey. You couldn’t tell what was so special about them, besides the fact that they were oddly light to hold, and incredibly stronger than you first had thought, using one of them to chop up firewood a few nights ago. Night set in, and your thoughts began to slow as sleep overcame your tired body.

You were suddenly stirred from your sleep as you heard a group of shouts coming from the edge of the woods. Your head snapped up, your body jolted awake despite the fatigue of your trek, and your hand carefully hovered over one of the Elven blades as you listened closely, discerning whether or not it was a threat to you. What time was it? The moon still slept in the sky and yet it seemed a lighter blue than when you had first fallen asleep in your oaken hideout. Was it soon to be morning? You crept carefully closer in the direction of the voices, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge as you tried to clear your mind and even your breaths, uneven from your rather rude awakening.

Creeping ever closer, you could finally see between thick-leaved trees that some mountain trolls had made camp, the screaming coming from their assumed dinner as your gaze shifted to the fourteen men tied up in short brown sacks, the sacks comically tied around their necks, giving them only their voices. Dwarves, you could tell, mostly from the impeccably-groomed beards but also from their sheer temperament. It seemed an even-smaller man (Perhaps a hobbit? But what would he be doing so far from the Shire?) was standing in his sack, desperately trying to convince the trolls not to eat them. You sighed to yourself, glad that the screaming hadn't proven to be a threat to you, but rather to their own misfortune.

A part of you wondered if you should intervene, though you weren't entirely sure what you could do; you were more adept at preventing your own death, not so much at saving others from it. But still unsure, you chose to at least see if anything would happen; after all, daylight would soon be upon you all. Perhaps if you could cut a tree down as a distraction? But there was no telling how long that would take...

Unbeknownst to you, amidst all of the yelling, a certain white-bearded dwarf had caught his eyes to you, squinting to see if you were friend or foe (Not that it mattered, considering they were about to die).

Soon, just as you had figured there was nothing you could do, especially against three mountain trolls, a giant cracking could be heard, and the troll's camp was flooded with the sun's early morning light. The trolls quickly turned to stone, and cheers were heard as the dwarves began helping each other out of their bindings. Chatter was heard amongst themselves, and a small breath of relief slipped past your lips. Making out the silhouette, you quickly recognized who stood atop the cracked stone, and knew you'd have to slip away soon lest you be caught.

"Masters, I believe we're still not alone," the white-haired dwarf spoke, and you muttered a swear under your breath. It was time to go.

"I believe you're right, Master Balin. Who are you, hiding in the trees?" The grey wizard called out, stepping closer and bringing the dwarves' attention with him. Fuck. You'd been found, and the risk of being chased if you ran worried you more than revealing yourself. And so, with careful steps and outstretched arms, you approached from behind the tree.

"Gandalf," you smiled. "It's been some time, old friend. Miss me much?"

The smallest man, who you now knew to be a hobbit from his feet, gave the wizard a perplexed look. "I'm sorry, you know this person?"

The wizard let out a wise chuckle. "Why yes, Master Baggins, this is the Untouchable Y/N. And what are you doing spying on our company?" He lit his pipe, smiling.

"Yes, I'd like to ask the same," another dwarf spoke, this time coming from the stoic one with gorgeous black hair. "I hear tales of your smuggling and thievery, so what brings you right to us?"

You cast a skeptical look to the black-haired dwarf, not liking his distrustful glare. "I'm no thief, just a messenger. My business is not with you. I merely worried for your safety."

"Worried? Only to watch us be eaten?" The white-haired dwarf, who you now knew was Balin, seemed to also be skeptical of you, but his gaze was less hateful than that of his companion.

"Now, now, let's settle down. Y/N is no threat to you all, that I can assure you." Gandalf puffed his pipe, pointing it at you. "They're the reason we have Master Baggins here with us, after all."

"I'm sorry, uh, what now?" The hobbit cast his gaze to you, still perplexed. "They did what?"

"I had asked them to accompany us as our burglar first, but they turned me down." The wizard drew another breath from his pipe.

You sighed, rolling your eyes at the old sorcerer. "I'm a messenger, not a thief. As stated before," you cast a glare at the black-hair dwarf. "I have business elsewhere."

The black-haired dwarf turned his glare to Gandalf now. "You told this human of our quest?"

A musing 'hm' left the grey man's lips. "Master Thorin, I can promise you that your secret is safe with Y/N. They're not the kind to tell their friends."

You scoffed. "If I had friends to speak of, no thanks to you, old man." You crossed your arms, looking to Thorin. "And since I have to keep repeating myself, I'm already busy. I've no time for meddling with dwarves and dragons, not to mention everything in between."

"And what do you have time for, Y/N?" Gandalf mused.

Meanwhile, Thorin had trudged off, gathering his men and their belongings once more since being sacked.

You sighed, showing your back. "I've to deliver these blades to a buyer near Mirkwood. No idea who it is, though; only a letter telling me where to find the blades and where to bring them." What you didn't mention was that you had found them in a troll-hoard, next to a pile of skeletons. You decided that was all the information you would give the clever wizard, not wanting to disclose all of your secrets to people who already didn't seem too keen to be near you.

"Hm, may I see them?" He asked gingerly, raising a brow at you. It seemed like always, Gandalf was curious of what you were up to. And not wanting to raise any unnecessary suspicion, you obliged.

You handed him the two swords off of your back, not disclosing that the third blade, a dagger, lay hidden underneath your clothes in your chest. Better safe than sorry when you're with… troublesome company.

Unsheathing each blade, Gandalf drew in a breath. "My dear Y/N, do you have any idea what these are?" He showed the blade's detail to you, just as Thorin began to approach you two. "These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age."

Upon hearing this, Thorin scoffed, to which the wizard was quick to cut him off. "You could not wish for a finer blade!" His scowl softened back as he turned to you again. "Here, keep them safe."

You nodded, taking back the blades as you threw them back on your back; a part of you cursed yourself for not knowing their true power. Nothing was stopping you from keeping one to yourself…

Thorin looked to Gandalf, beckoning him away. "Come, we must make use of the daylight; we haven't much time to waste." The wizard looked at you, and all you could see were the gears turning in his head.

"Y/N, join us on our journey," he offered, much to Thorin's disgust.

"Gandalf, I already told you I'm-"

"Busy, yes. But we're both heading the same direction, are we not?" He looked at you and Thorin, who looked you up and down before sighing.

"Don't slow us down." He spoke before you could even get a word in. "Kíli, take their weapons," he beckoned a dark-brown-haired dwarf over, one that bore a little resemblance to him, much to your dismay.

“Excuse me? What for?” You spoke up, offended by the notion. Thorin simply looked you up and down, speaking with disgust.

“If you travel with us, you do it without that Elven filth on you.”

“Master Thorin, need I remind you-“ Gandalf tried to intercept, but was cut off.

“They may be fine blades, that I trust. What I don’t trust is a stranger joining us with such fine weapons. You’ll get them back once we part.” Thorin clarified, motioning to the brown-haired dwarf once again. “Kíli, their weapons.”

You sighed after seeing Gandalf’s defeated gaze. Fine, there was nothing to be done. Of course, you could always travel alone; you were good at taking care of yourself already on such travels, but the chance of safer lodging with Gandalf persuaded you to stay. Kíli approached you, offering a nod of acknowledgment before removing the swords on your back. You held your arms out as he patted your sleeves, moving up until he reached the third blade. Well, the secret was out. Great.

He struggled to remove the blade without undoing part of your tunic, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes, but you maintained a slight smile. “Getting handsy, are we?” You looked down at the dwarf, who grew red at your comment, clearing his throat.

“I’m usually more polite,” he chirped back, much to your surprise.

“By all means, take your time. I’m sure Thorin will appreciate it,” you retorted sarcastically. After a few more pats, Kíli cleared his throat once more, handing the two swords to Balin to carry, and pocketing the dagger at his side. Greedy man.

But finally, you were off, stuck to tag along for sake of convenience versus pleasure.

Screw safety! Joining them had proven more stress than it was worth as you had been chased down by wargs and orcs and narrowly missed death yet again after thinking you’d be trapped in a cave! And all the while, you had still been denied your weapons, with Kíli and Balin instructed to keep them from you; at this point, it felt out of spite. You assumed your only luck came from Gandalf knowing the way to Rivendell, much to Thorin’s chagrin. But even among your own frustrations, you could not deny the beauty of such a city. It was practically glowing and beaming with light, as was the nature of Elves, and Lord Elrond’s hospitality brought relief to your aching bones. A meal! A warm bed! And most importantly, a bath!

However, your comrades (if you could even call the strangers that) seemed less than impressed with the feast offered to you all. Dwalin and Oín seemed the most disgusted by the array of leafy greens and hearty vegetables, but your hunger quickly guided your tongue in chiding them.

“Oh, hush! Don’t tell me you’d rather starve?” You rolled your eyes, earning a look from the two in question. Oín rolled his own eyes back at you, refusing to address your retort.

“Have they got any chips?” He asked, looking between Bofur and Dwalin again. You had learned some of their names from Thorin’s commanding shouts as you all had outran the orcs, and it was making your trip a little less confusing at the very least.

After a bit of eating, you noticed Kíli winking at one of the Elves around you. He seemed cheekier than he had been when he had disarmed you, and you were curious if this was the real him. A thief and a flirt.

“I can’t say I fancy elf maids myself,” he said to his companions. “Too thin. They’re all high cheekbones and creamy skin. Not enough facial hair for me. Although, that one there’s not bad.”

You almost had the urge to call him out, but were beaten to the punch by Dwalin, who made it known that the Elf in question was no woman, but a man. You choked back a chortle as the table erupted into laughter, meanwhile Kíli sat in his awkward shame, admitting the humor of the situation. You cleared your throat, adding in a chuckle.

“Well don’t be ashamed! Go on then, don’t be shy. Tell us about his ‘creamy skin’, eh?” You laughed, and Kíli shot you a small smirk, waving a hand to dismiss your comment.

You had long finished your meal, the group beginning to divide into smaller ones as the men decided whether to go to their rooms or wander about. Thorin and Gandalf were still busy with Lord Elrond, and by the looks of it, you figured you had enough time to bathe. You left the dining hall (though the space was so open, you were unsure if ‘hall’ was even the right word to use) to hunt down your room, hoping to find a towel of some sort.

Now, while you knew you were sharing a room, you had forgotten your bunkmates, it seems. Yes, you remembered that Bilbo and the blonder dwarf brother were sharing your quarters, but you were caught off guard to open the door and see Kíli on his side in bed, facing away from you. He hadn’t stirred when you opened the door, and so you wondered if he was asleep.

Now’s the chance, you thought as you crept closer to his sleeping form. You had been wondering how you’d get your blades back, and now seemed as good as any opportunity to try. And so you stepped closer as quietly as you could until you were leaning over his sleeping form; his eyes were closed, so you were assured that he was sleeping. With ginger hands, you delicately reached for the hilt of the blade, which was tucked into the belt of his tunic. Carefully, you held your breath as you raised his belt to try and free your blade and spring it free…

“And I’m the handsy one?” His eyes shot open and you jumped back, eyes wide with shock as you realized he had been awake the entire time. He sat up, chuckling with a cheeky smirk as he looked at your figure in the dimly-lit room. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I swear.”

You bit your tongue, slightly angry. “Don’t accuse me of trying to bed you, I merely want what’s mine.” You spoke curtly, trying to hide the venom and embarrassment of being caught.

“Oh? But I thought this was someone else’s blade? Didn’t you say you were just doing a delivery? Just a messenger?” He taunted, scratching the stubble on his chin. A part of you didn’t want to admit it, but now that you were much closer and actually paying attention, he was quite handsome. A bit scruff, but otherwise beautiful. You hated that you thought of him like that, especially right now as he was teasing you.

“Which means that my job is to hold on to such deliveries, not you. Just give it back and spare me your mockery.” You crossed your arms, frustrated.

“I mean not to mock you,” He shook his head, now standing up. “But my uncle would have my backside if I returned your effects, I’m afraid.”

You groaned, wanting to escape the presence of this rather handsome-but-annoying dwarf. “Fine. I’m leaving.” You stepped away, rummaging through the storage closet in the room as you grabbed a towel before leaving, heading for the baths.

You stormed out of your shared room and into the bathhouse, thanking some unknown entity that they were empty and steaming. You sighed as you set your things down nearby, careful of your bruises as you undressed yourself and heaving a sigh of frustration as you did so. Gods, the nerve of that dwarf! Pretending to be asleep, keeping what was yours (even though it wasn’t) and having the gall to smirk about the whole thing?! It was easier (and much more therapeutic) to feel angry about it all instead of actually admitting your embarrassment.

And so, with flushed ears and a warmer temper, you stepped into the warm and misty waters of the bathhouse, a groan slipping past your lips as your body throbbed before being soothed by the healing waters. You drew in a deep breath through your nose, a pleasant smile gracing your lips as the scent of rosemary and mint met your nostrils. Finally, you could wash off the journey and hopefully your frustration as well. You sighed, happy to finally have one decent night of rest and relief; you made a mental note to thank Gandalf later, despite the rough journey that got you here.

Time passed and you weren’t entirely sure how long you had been here, though the urge to sink further into the pool crossed your mind more than once. How long had it been, an hour? Maybe more? You figured you were fine to soak more if your group was still staying the night, but your mind replayed the question more, making you worried. What if everyone left later? In any case, you deemed it best to hurry up, grateful for the time you had already spent in the steamy bathhouse. Letting your hair down, you sunk lower into the water, as you had decided you would wash your hair last. You soaked your head, running your fingers through your scalp as you massaged the wind and rain and dirt from your locks, humming in satisfaction of the feeling it gave you.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps approaching; ducking your body into the water until nothing but your head remained above, you squinted your eyes towards the doorway, trying to peer through the steam to discern your approaching company. And to your surprise, the same cheeky dwarf from earlier emerged through the steam, looking around until his eyes caught yours; quickly realizing you were bathing, his eyes widened and he quickly turned around, offering you some privacy.

“Sorry!” He said, clearing his throat. “I was asked to come find you, it seems that Elf Lord will help us read our map.”

You held in a smirk of your own at his embarrassed tone, feeling a small sort of revenge from it. “And am I needed to attend?”

He nodded, “Uncle told me that Gandalf had asked you to be there. That’s all I know.”

“Uncle?” You questioned. “Thorin, I presume?”

He nodded again; you had guessed that earlier based on his reaction to trying to take back your blade.

You sighed. “Well, alright. I suppose if he asked for me…” You stood up, your back facing him as you worried he would try to peek.

“Have you been friends long? You and Gandalf, I mean.” His question came after he could hear you dressing yourself, catching you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to be curious, perhaps you had judged him wrongly earlier. You chuckled as memories came back to you.

“Yes, for a few years now. He met me before I was a messenger, and is the reason I went down this path. Though I wouldn’t say his presence is always welcoming; if there’s one thing that old wizard summons, it’s trouble. He’s reckless.” Though your tone was firm, you couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips.

Gandalf had met you before you started any of your adventures, finding you in your hometown and setting you on the path of a delivery-man after your village had been burned to the ground.

“I see,” he spoke, nodding with a slight hum as you finished dressing yourself. “You sound like my mother.”

“I’m sorry?” You raised a brow.

“My mother says the same thing about me; that I’m reckless, and stir up too much trouble.” He chuckled to himself, caught wistfully in his own memory.

You finished getting dressed, your hand touching his shoulder to acknowledge him as you stood behind him. He flinched only slightly, not expecting the touch as he turned and faced you, looking to your eyes. “Oh? Well, I can’t say I wouldn’t disagree, but are you?” You asked.

“Nah,” He shook his head with a small smile, his eyes softening as he looked up at you. For a moment, your cheeks flushed as his stare continued for a moment of silence. “Listen, about earlier, I-“

“It’s fine, I’m the one who should apologize,” You cut him off. “Besides, I’d rather save the trouble of fighting a dwarf over a sword that isn’t mine.”

He smiled, “I must say, while I have no inclination to fight you either, I enjoyed your adventurous efforts earlier.”

You flushed again, thankful the steam hid the true details of both of you. Clearing your throat, you shook your head. “I suppose you’re to lead me to Gandalf?”

He chuckled, nodding his head. “Yes, alright. They’re waiting on us anyways… not that I exactly mind keeping them waiting.” He had muttered the last part under his breath but your keen ears caught it. Smiling to yourself, you tucked some loose hair away as you walked through the Elven halls. All of your frustration from earlier had subsided for a moment, though truthfully it shouldn’t have been directed at Kíli if at all; his uncle was definitely higher on your blacklist.

“Perhaps I don’t mind either,” you whispered under your breath. For however short or long your journey with this man would be, a part of you was interested to see how much you’d enjoy it.

proofread by @v1olentdelights &lt;3

#kili x reader #kili fanfic #kili durin #lotr x reader #lotr #the hobbit #kili #the hobbit fanfic #aidan turner #the hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfiction #kili/reader

[ametistacollinsworld]

☾ N x Nezuko like! Reader x Uzi 2 ☽

My 36 request! Hope you like!

•─────✧─────•

You were in the present time sitting on the floor, just silently watching as N and Uzi had a sentimental moment, gently playing with the edge of your [Formal Wear] that N had found especially for you.

" Anyway- Where is that thing?- The human?- " Uzi asks looking at N with a serious expression, which he smiles excitedly.

" They're over there! Look at them! Come here (Y/n)! " N exclaimed looking at you, soon giving a small wave for you to come closer. Uzi blinked, giving the two of you a questioning expression.

" How do you know their names if they don't even speak? Or did you just name them? " Uzi asked crossing her arms with a questioning expression, which made N laugh nervously.

" No, no! I.. just asked them to write in the snow Uzi! " N explained giving a smile, which Uzi snorted.

" That was smart, I guess… now let's go! We need to stop V's plans!" Uzi spoke slowly, soon changing to a determined tone. You and N nodded, now starting to follow the female drone through the walls of the colony.

Thus, the three of you soon arrived at the prom together, with Uzi unleashing her catchphrase making everyone look at you in fear or simply not giving a damn.

That way, Doll wasted no time impaling V and literally exploding anyone in her path, which made Uzi and N look confused and surprised.

" Holy crap, what is she doing? " Uzi asked with surprise and fear looking at N pointing to Doll.

" This wasn't exactly what I expected.. I think we should- " N spoke in a confused tone, only to be interrupted by Uzi snorting.

So you guys run to the stage, staying in front of V to protect her, which N also made a point of leaving you behind them, just wanting to make you safer from Doll.

Then, after a few minutes of monologue Doll seems to finally snap, sending two fan blades towards you three, which N quickly pushes you and Uzi away, leaving only him and V to be decapitated.

You and Uzi fell and rolled across the floor, which Uzi coughed up oil as you approached her with concern, helping her to get up, which she nodded in a short thanks.

Doll wasted no time throwing a knife towards Uzi, which she parried using her hand, then walking towards the other female drone as she drew the knife with an insane little laugh. Doll even tried to throw another knife towards Uzi, but that proved useless, as he still blocked it by throwing the knife to the side with the first knife.

Doll threw another knife at Uzi, which she gave a spinning dodging the attack, then kicking a microphone stand in the direction of the russian drone that blocked the attack with her powers.

When Uzi thought she had everything under control, Doll managed to pin her to the ground, starting to multiply knives to throw at the poor emo drone, which finally you took the lead going towards the two.

As N protected and helped Uzi to get up, you entered your demonic form, letting your vine marks take over your body in addition to your single horn spike all over your forehead, making you look more menacing and demon like.

You ran towards Doll, making the female worker drone stumble for a second in surprise, then shaking off that feeling, using her powers to throw you across the room doing a big damage to the wall.

" (Y/n)! " N and Uzi shout together looking in your direction surprised and worried, wich Uzi growled jumping between the tables, trying to get to Doll.

The time seemed to go in slow motion, with Uzi countering Doll with her own knives, and you, who managed to sneak up behind the russian drone, giving a big kick to her back sending her in the direction of Uzi, who gave her also a big kick, but this time in her face making the drone roll across the floor.

You've taken your place at Uzi's side, preparing to protect her in case Doll tries anything else, which was not the case, as V shot her in the head, presumably killing her.

" V! We needed her for answers! " Uzi shouted with an unimpressed and irritated expression.

" What? She's fine- " V started to speak, but decided against it, seeing the state the drone was in.

" Good job there (Y/n)! That was very brave of you " N congratulated you with a soft tone, soon patting your head, which made you return to normal with a smile.

" Yeah.. lucky for you we're not done yet " Uzi said giving V a sour look, then picking up a key that was on the floor.

Seeing that you were tired, he let you climb on his back, which he hold you carefully not wanting to hit you with his tail. You sleep for a while after that.

You guys would still have many challenges ahead of you together, but what would they be? Who knows...

#md n #md uzi #murder drones #murder drones x reader #murder drones uzi x reader #murder drones n x reader #md n x reader #md uzi x reader

[crimsonlyinglilly]

AMOW 2. Impalement

Day two of AMonthOfWhump's March Trope-a-Thon.

oh no! Elijah's been impaled. anyway-

more Elijah Whump, This time from Grandfather Elijah AU, so centuries after 'Hale the boy grew.' and Nadia discovers her traveling companion is more that he appeared.

also while writing this I discovered I didn't post the second part of Hale the boy grew. will get on to that.

---

It had been years since he had used any of his true strengths and abilities, Nadia was more than happy to take the lead in their search so Elijah had let her believe her first impression, that  he was just a young vampire Katarin-Katherine now, had turned and left behind, it was easier to be Elijah Hale rather than Mikaelson, the one who had failed her family and led to their deaths.

Oh, he knew who Nadia was, he had convinced Katarina’s parents to keep him informed of the baby’s growth after they had sent their daughter into his care, the letters were likely still at the bottom of the trunk he had left on the ship. He had assumed she was another, tiny body left in the aftermath of his brother's rage, so when she had introduced herself when they both met during their own searches for Katherine he had been stunned.

Quickly agreeing to join her, following her instructions with little complaint, it was easy to see how she gained the idea he was younger, but the sight of her, alive, learning that she had children, even if he had little to no chance of finding them or their descendants at this point, was a weight lifted from his heart, that he still had something left from his grandchildren, that Hale’s line had survived his brother the way Tatia hadn’t survived him.

Besides he had gained plenty of practice following someone else’s lead while watching their back and Nadia was far more careful than any of his siblings besides Finn.

So it made sense for him to stop holding back the moment the makeshift stake made its way towards her heart, he’d survive it, she wouldn’t. She was family even if she wasn’t entirely aware of how much.

He couldn’t, wouldn’t lose her.

The hearts of the two that had been fighting him, quickly found their way out of their chests and on the floor before he moved.

He gets to see her look of shock and horror as she realised he managed to take her place before the stake punctured his chest, ribs cracking, flesh tearing on the wood.

Metal was always clearer,  

Elijah wished he could say he was a stranger to this feeling as the sharp pain erupted stealing his breath; no matter how much he was expecting or that he didn’t need to breathe, he wasn’t, sadly it was a familiar feeling. He choked on a wet gasp despite himself as the wooden former chair leg shifted as he stumbled back and the man let go of it, he was however more annoyed at the ruin of his shirt than anything else.

Darkness swallowed him and he had faith that Nadia would hold her own against their four opponents long enough until his body remembered this wouldn’t kill him and he woke up to pull out the stake himself.

---

First time it had been his father’s blade on the night he lost his humanity, then in the years after Hale’s death and the realisation Hale’s younger son, his grandson looked old enough to be his father he had tried himself following rumours of wooden stake killing his kind.

Then years after that soon after his reunion with his siblings it was the brotherhood of Five and their accursed daggers. 

Recently, as the last centuries had come to be to him, those things had come to be a comfort, the sharp slide of the ash coated dagger into his heart spare him to ache of losing his last ties to Hale, of failing Katarina.

The black nothing of the daggered death meant he wasn’t living with the knowledge of the village he had visited decade after decade, to watch grow since a small collection of his grandchildren followed him back to the old world, had been massacred by his little brother.

It was a reminder of how he had cost Tatia’s her life because of his lack of control and cost those that had looked up to him with his own blindness towards his brother.

Being daggered in the coffin meant he didn’t have to face his unending love for his brother, while still remember bring there for Lana’s first steps, she had been 60 when Klaus descended in anger, or wondering if Kaila and Juste had had their first child before they were killed, or if Mayflower had gotten permission to marry her boy, or how Heath had had progressed with his blade work or the fact he would never get to see Eli, the child named for him, show him how good he had gotten with the bow Elijah had given him on his last visit.

Every time his brother had undaggered him expecting, demanding forgiveness Elijah remembered another face, another person, another life Klaus had cut down without care. He had stopped fighting back after the fifth time he had been released, simply refusing to look at Klaus harmed him far more than any thoughtless lashing out, he was daggered just as quickly after that when Klaus couldn’t stand being ignored more than any anger.

In the end the only reason Elijah had swallowed his rage and grief at his lost grandchildren, was his other siblings pleading and the reminder that Katarina was still alive and free, running from them as she was.

Katarina who was sent to him, by her family to protect, to guide, to give a better life and he had unknowingly left her to be used as a sacrifice by his brother.

Katarina who believed he had known, believed he had sold her out to be killed, who was running from him as much as Klaus. 

So he had accepted Klaus’s apology and let them return to an almost normal state, using his freedom from the coffin and time awake to look for Katarina, learned who she had gained her blood from, where she had run, and warned Klaus not to bring anymore harm to her.

It was however from Kol that he learnt she had changed her name, going most commonly by Katherine, Klaus took his relive of news of her as a example and started bringing the small pieces of information to him like a cat brought dead birds, if could almost be seen as small hints of apology if Klaus had accepted killing Elijah’s grandchildren was wrong at all.

That was one problem he found that spending so much time mostly daggered, the connections he had collected had scattered, faded or died. A reminder of the cruellest lesson this life had taught him, one could never win against time.

Still he had waited watching out for any sign of her from afar as he rebuilt his network and tried to manage and help his family, he would have stayed doing that if Father hadn’t found them, hadn’t pushed them to flee again.

He couldn’t return to the new world, not when all signs pointed to Katherine was still in Europe, not when the last time he had been on the continent where his siblings were born, it had been to a village he had watched grow, one wiped out  from illness and fighting in the century following his absence.

But he couldn’t tell Klaus that or he’d end up spending the passage in a coffin, proof of the came when Kol refused to leave. 

So he had helped dagger Kol to get Klaus to lower his guard and ensured he himself was off the ship before it left. Klaus would undagger Kol soon enough without him, if he didn’t Rebekah would and Elijah would collect various magical tomes and objects to make up for his cold usage of his youngest brother, but Kol was the only one that had understood and hadn’t judged why he had spent a century away from them in the first place, they had come to a understanding of sort.

Finn had been Finn, Klaus was betrayed and Rebekah was jealous no matter how she had tried to hide it.

Kol would have taken anything, done anything, to hold on to a spark of his magic, he hadn't blamed Elijah for trying to cling to his humanity with Hale.

He had left Rebekah and Kol a letter each, that was forty years ago he likely would have given up his lone search for Katherine if he hadn’t come across Nadia a few years ago.

---

It happened suddenly, they were passing through a town that the latest rumours of her mother had pointed to, she had learned where Katherine had been staying and followed the lead in hopes to find out where she had gone after the town. 

Instead they had fallen into a trap, she had led Elijah into a trap where they were outnumbered.

She was confident in her own abilities and the fact she had never seen Elijah struggle with anything; in a fight, hunger, bloodlust had been on the small list she had collected screaming that he was more than he let her think but at first she had only planned on using him to find her mother later it had grown into a true fondness.

But two against six, stronger, likely older than them wasn’t a great chance, which was proven when she stumbled back and found herself stuck unable to escape and too slow to block as her death came at her. 

Then everything changed.

One moment the wooden stake was heading for her heart with no way she could move out of the way the next she was falling over the table that had blocked her coming up up to turn and watch with horror as the stake impaled her travelling companion of three years in the heart

Elijah Hale, the man she had first thought was just some poor pretty nobleman her mother had ensnared and turned on a whim, as she had learned from her travels, was somewhat of a habit she had.

He was charming and kind, she could see why her mother had gotten attached enough to turn him, even if kindness was something she wasn’t used to from their kind, she could ignore the way he sometimes stared at her with awe and assumed it was from relief at no longer looking for Katherine alone.

While habit of dress and his ability to talk rings around nobles and gain what he wanted with barely the use of compulsion agreed with her idea of him being a noble, his ease travelling with nothing and a few stories she had gotten out of him spoke of rougher roots 

He spoke of Katerine as Katarina, sometimes a name she hadn’t used since she was alive and Nadia adapted her idea of him as someone who was turned around at the same time, that perhaps he was someone her mother hadn’t just used but had loved. 

She had allowed herself to get far more attached herself at that thought, that they could find her mother and actually stay together as a sort of family, even if she wasn’t sure what Elijah was exactly, as she had started to notice through the stories of her mother she had managed to gain from him, that they weren’t lovers that Elijah spoke of her as a younger relative more than anything else. 

She hadn’t realised how much the idea of that mattered to her until it died, as Elijah stumbled back and slumped against the wall looking down at the wood impaling his heart with more annoyance than anything else as his skin turned grey and ashened in death.

She swallowed back any grief and threw herself back into the fight realising that before Elijah had somehow moved quicker than she thought possible and taken her place he had killed two of those fighting him, leaving her against four.

She lost track of time as the fight passed in a blur she managed to stake one of the remaining men and she was caught before she could do anything more, she was struggling against the hold when a voice called out.

“I wouldn’t if i was you.” A familiar impossible voice froze them all and she turned slowly to see Elijah standing the wooden stake that should have killed him in one hand. Watching them with a mild smile but she doubted the surviving three were looking at his face, she herself could barely pull her eyes from the healing hole in his chest.

The fatal wound closed as if nothing had happened.

---

I'll end it there as the impalement is over.

Part two may follow.

#amow tropeathon2024 #day2 #impalement #tw impalement #elijah mikealson #nadia petrova #AU- Grandfather Elijah #fan fiction #the vampire dairies au #the originals au #tvd fanfiction

[auncyen]

Néné feels sick from the smell of blood. Ochette had always felt sorry for her about that--both that her stomach wasn't stronger and that she'd had to spill blood anyway, because humans wouldn't stop at collaring beasts but collar each other too--but she couldn't say she knew what that felt like.

But Ochette smelled blood closer to the campsite than seemed safe, so she followed the scent's trail and found its source, and now she does feel sick, her heart hammering, her ironclad stomach roiling with disgust. Because the blood is Hikarin's, freely running down his arm from two neat, shallow cuts. And the dagger drawing that blood, the tip still pressed into the flesh, is also Hikarin's.

Hikarin is staring back at her, now that he's spotted her at the edge of the clearing. He looks sick to his stomach too--he has to be sick, Ochette knows humans do a lot of things that don't make sense to her but they don't hurt themselves--but she's seen beasts hurt themselves when they're very sick and confused--Hikarin's sick, he's always had that bad smell around him and now he's sick--but she knows who can help him.

"Ochette," Hikarin says in a small voice when she steps back. "I can explain--"

"MA," she bellows, and startles back when Hikarin shoots to his feet.

"Ochette, wait--"

"MA!" She's not expecting him to hurt her, not with one arm injured and the other hand now trying to cover the cuts, but his eyes are wide and panicky and he's doing things that don't make sense and Ma needs to come look at him right now.

Her shouting summons both Ma and Néné. Néné appears first, nearly at Hikarin's side before either of them see her and Hikarin pulls away from her, still holding his arm. Even though the smell of blood repulses Néné, she looks calmer than Ochette feels. Definitely calmer than Hikarin looks, but he's squaring his shoulders, pulling himself up straight as Ma breaks into the clearing.

"Hikarin hurt himself," Ochette says as soon as Ma gives her a questioning look, and immediately all of Ma's attention is on Hikarin. Good. She'll figure out what's wrong with him and make him better.

Hikarin rolls his sleeve back up for Ma when she approaches him, but he says, "It's nothing significant. It was an accident." Even if Ochette hadn't seen him pressing the blade to his arm she'd still know something wasn't right by the waver in his voice.

"An accident that happened twice?" Néné says, which is a good point. It's a bad, stupid lie. Hikarin doesn't usually lie. Ochette doesn't get why he's doing it now, when he knows Ma is here to help him.

"We can talk about how it happened later," Ma says, taking some bandages from her satchel. "For now, let me treat you."

The upset in Ochette's stomach settles a little, now that she knows Ma is on the job. She's good at figuring out how to fix humans and beastlings and even beasts up. She'll get to the bottom of whatever's wrong with Hikarin.

And hopefully soon. There's a heavy, sad look in Hikarin's face now that the panic is fading. And that bad smell is hanging around him like rotten meat.

-

just a lingering thought about if hikari might hurt himself for different reasons (punishing himself for the shadow's thoughts, or since the shadow seems drawn by blood having a desperate thought of 'if I give you some will you stop because I can give you mine') and uh. yeah

#tw self harm #hikari ku #ochette #octopath traveler 2