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kaz-identified · 8 months

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houseofmcallister presents

Almost (Sweet Music)

Pairing: Crow x Young Wolf , slight/implied Uldren Sov x Young Wolf

Category: One-Shot

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: 13+

Warnings: No major warnings apply

Word Count: 926

Summary: I’m almost me again, he’s almost you…

name faolan and she/her pronouns used for young wolf, in accordance with old mcallister fics.

author's note: this fic hinges on my deeply held belief that the young wolf and uldren were friends. also hozier inspired so like yay pain.

I laugh like me again, she laughs like you.

Crow is quiet when she approaches. Her eyes are concerned. It's rare to see Faolan without her helmet. It's even rarer to see her look this... disheveled. Her eyes, normally so bright and full of light, eyes like a stormy sky, are downcast, dark. The only light in her eyes was the Void twinning around her pupil, granting her a second sight, Truesight, she calls it.

She falls down on the bench beside him. Her hair is a mess, dirt and gunsmoke smudge her face.The white X across her face, her beloved warpaint, has been rubbed off in places. She's really out of it. The Nightmares took a real toll on her, huh? Maybe now isn't the time to do this... maybe another ti-

"The nightmare- he's wrong, by the way. I don't blame you for what he did."

OK, so they're doing this now.

"I- didn't think he was right..." Crow says quietly. "Don't lie to me, birdbrain," she looks up at him. God, she looks so tired. There's a triumphant glint in her eyes but she looks exhausted. "You're bad at it. Uldren was too," she chuckles. He flinches the smallest bit, but stops himself from making any visible reaction. Uldren was her friend, she's speaking of him fondly right now... he doesn't want to interrupt that. Some other perspective of who he was, a perspective that isn't how he was a murderer.

"He was?" Crow questions, his tone the kind you use for a scared animal, trying not to scare off this chance for information. Faolan swipes at the bridge of her nose, wiping away some gunpowder. "Oh yeah. Big time. He could keep secrets so well but that pride of his made it so he couldn't lie well. You could always tell, he'd grit his teeth a little bit." She smiles at the memory. Crow smiles at her smiling. "What was I- he... like? Outside of... you know." Faolan sighs. "You don't wanna know about that, Crow. You have the memories. You know what he was like." Crow shakes his head. "I don't want to know how he perceived himself I... I wanna know what he was actually like." Faolan lets out another sigh, a deeper one, and looks up at him. "He was a bastard. There's no two ways around it. Uldren Sov was, pardon my language, he was a cunt. He was a smug motherfucker that thought he knew best and everyone else was a little stupid. He was kinda right about that... as far as it went with me."

"You? Stupid?" He asks, laughing a bit.

"I was a New Light! Greener then you. Real wet behind the ears. Uldren liked to make fun of me for that, but I learned a lot from him. When he wasn't being a piece of shit he was-" she cuts herself off, looking down.

"He was..?" Crow prompts. "He was my friend," Faolan says, quietly, almost... almost reverent. "I trusted him. I looked up to him a bit, I won't lie to you," she says with a half-laugh. Crow looks at her in shock. He had thought she would have hated him. "Hunting him was... the hardest thing I've ever had to do." She finally meets his gaze. She looks like she's on the brink of tears. "Losing Cayde was the worst day of my life. But having to kill my friend? I don't think I'll ever do anything worse than that..." she barely even whispers it.

Crow resists the urge to wipe her tears from her face, it hurts him to see her like this. She should never cry, it's like seeing the sun be blotted out, its horrifying. She should always be smiling and joyful, always be able to be grinning and cracking jokes. He hopes he never sees this again, hopes she never feels anything that makes her cry again, she deserves to be joyful forever.

"I don't... I don't blame him for what happened," she says, finally looking up, wiping away at her own tears. "He wasn't himself, Riven got her claws in him. My Uldren would've said something other than bullshit when I shot him," she says with a choked laughing sob. Crow feels his heart stop for a second. 'My Uldren'... he knows she means nothing by it, nothing besides to say the man she knew but... some part of him, some part of him that holds Uldren's memories feels something intense when she says that.

She looks down at her hands. "You remind me of him, how he was when we were in the field. When he wasn't being a jackass." She looks up at him and smiles so softly. "You aren't the same person, not at all but... you have his face and you have the heart he tried to pretend he didn't have. That means something." She rests her head against the wall, smiling at the ceiling. "It's nice to know that... you're not him but, the best parts of him are still here, in you. The parts I-" she cuts herself off, yawning. "The parts you...?" Crow asks. "The parts of him I respected." She answers. She smiles at him. "You're like... what he could've been." Crow smiles back. "You think so?" She rests her head against the wall again. "I know so. And I think you do too. Now can we be quiet for a bit? I am... so tired." "Of course, of course," he says, hushing himself. "Sleep well, Old Light." "Shut up, Birdbrain," she mumbles, but she's smiling.

i was listening to the torture dance song while formatting this there are now two songs associated with this fic and only one of them makes sense.

ao3: houseofmcallister main account: houseofmcallister buy me a coffee!

Don’t repost my work or I’ll eat your shoulder blades! I do not consent to my works being used for AI training purposes.

#destiny the game #destiny fanfic #crow x guardian #crow x young wolf #destiny 2 fanfic #hurt/comfort #dtg fic #fanfic #oneshot #crow x the young wolf #d2 fic #destiny fanfiction #angst #the crow #crow #the young wolf #uldren sov #uldren sov x guardian

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shalalalalaw · 1 year

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Metal and Dust [Chapter 1 of 19] - Mature

If there's one thing Tevis Larsen learned early on, it's that he's not the hero of his own story.

#destiny #d2 fic #nana writes #tevis larsen #metal and dust #holy fuck it's happening #im posting this monster #<3 #updates every friday

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fluxphage · 1 year

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rise and grind gamers wyn lore book posted

#d2 #d2 fanfic #d2 fic #cayde-6

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adh-d2 · 6 months

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I've been thinking a lot about the way Tech and Crosshair speak, how they sound very different but there's a similarity in how precise and measured their voices are.

And now I have the following headcanons:

- Crosshair and Tech are tube twins and they're the youngest of the batch.

- Crosshair was either nonverbal or selectively mute as a cadet. There was a time where the only person he'd murmer things to was Tech and Tech would 'translate' for him.

- In contrast, Tech's always been super verbal but he still struggled to communicate for a while. He used to stumble over words and run out of breath a lot. Maybe he had a stutter. His thoughts just moved so fast that he felt like his voice couldn't keep up.

- So anyway both of them had speech therapy and that's why their accents are different to the rest of the clones thank you for coming to my TechTalk

#Someone more talented than me please write this fic #I just love thinking of them as tiny twin cadets 😭#They are twins your honor #the bad batch #sw tbb #the bad batch headcanons #tbb headcanons #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #the clone wars #sw tcw #ADH-D2's Patented Bullshit

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tsunami-of-tears · 23 days

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Healing Hands

Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 - Day 2 (Comfort)

Cazriel x Healer Reader

Summary: When Azriel and Cassian require healing, they can always rely on their friend, Y/N, to help them out.

Pairing Masterlist

Wordcount: 1.6K

Warnings: injury/illness; slight angst; mostly fluff.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Reader

When you first saw Azriel, cloaked in shadows, you thought death had finally come for you.

Instead, he offered you a new chance at life.

You couldn't help but develop a little crush. Gods, he was so handsome. Attractive and kind - you were done for.

And then there was Cassian. He was so easy to get along with, the two of you were fast friends, especially with the amount of injuries the male received.

You wondered if he was doing it on purpose, as a way to spend more time with you. You shake your head, trying to rid the thought from your mind. ‘Don’t be silly, why would he do that when his job requires him to be in peak physical condition?’

You managed to stay professional, for the most part. Cassian made it very hard with all of his flirting. You quickly realised it helped to take his mind off the pain while you were healing him. So, taking a holistic approach, you joined in on his games to help him through it.

Azriel, on the other hand, was always on his best behaviour. You got to see a side of him that’s usually kept hidden behind his shadows. A soft side. The two of you would talk and talk while you patched him up. You’d chat about everything, new books, music, that new bakery by the Sidra that made the most divine cakes…

Getting on with Cassian and Azriel was easy. What wasn’t easy was battling your growing feelings for both of them.

————

You’re working on restocking your salves and tonics, humming a song from your village as you grind magical herbs together. You’re interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. “Come in,” you say cheerily, stepping away from the work to greet your visitor.

The door opens and Cassian enters your small clinic with a bright pink nose and red, puffy eyes. “Y/N, I think I’m dying,” he sniffles.

You move closer and press your hand against Cassian’s forehead, letting your powers diagnose him.

“I’ve seen you with far worse ailments than allergies, Cassian.”

“You try not being able to breathe and see how you like it,” he responds.

“Take a seat, I was just finishing up a tonic that will help.” You gesture towards the stool on the other side of your workstation and you go back to mixing the tonic. Cassian watches you working in unusual silence. The only sounds in the room are the grinding of your mortar and pestle and the occasional sneeze.

“Remind me to stock up on this if we ever visit Spring,” you smile, handing Cassian the glass vial. He downs the amber liquid in one big gulp. Within minutes his symptoms start to wane. Cassian stands and lifts you into a big hug, spinning you around.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver, Y/N.” Cassian beams, planting a loud kiss on the top of your head as he sets you on your feet.

You laugh in response to his affection. “It’s nothing,” you say.

You both turn at the sound of a male cough. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Azriel drawls.

“Just saving Cassian’s life. Again,” you wink.

“Thanks again Y//N.” Cassian kisses you on the cheek on his way out of the clinic, leaving you alone with the shadow singer.

You scan Azriel’s face. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and a haunted look on his face.

“What can I help you with, Az?” you ask.

“Just some scrapes, I’ve become such a baby since you’ve been around,” he smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

“It’s always my pleasure to help.” You turn to look through your jars of salves, grabbing one with numbing properties.

You turn towards Azriel, motioning for him to take a seat. You grab his hand, your powers doing a quick scan - you can sense he has some minor scraps on his knuckles, but he’s also got something wrong in his chest - your powers can't quite determine what it is.

You do your best to keep the concern from your face as you start to work the salve into his knuckles. Azriel shuts his eyes as you massage his hands.

“Az,” you say softly, approaching the topic hesitantly, “is there anything else I should know about?”

He opens his eyes, looking into yours, “like what? I’m fine,” he says.

“You haven't had any pain elsewhere?” You push.

“No, why would I?”

“Well, I don't want to alarm you but my magic has never been wrong before. It’s detected something other than these scrapes…” You point towards his chest, right over his heart, “There’s something wrong here.”

Azriel exhales through his nose, “Oh, that. It’s nothing I can’t handle.’”

You frown at the male, sighing. Illyrians were a stubborn breed, you decided. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Azriel nods and leaves your clinic, leaving you wondering what worries plague him and what you can do to help.

————

Azriel continues to mope around for a few days, the dark circles never leaving his face. Not even Mor can get him to smile.

With your worries only increasing, you turn to Rhys and Feyre for some answers.

You explain what you felt to Rhys, that you knew something was wrong but you couldn’t tell what.

Rhys props his chin on his hand pensively, “Azriel has always had his demons, thank you for bringing this to my attention. Just keep monitoring him and try to get him to talk. I know he feels fondly for you, it may just take him time to open up.”

You nod, taking in the High Lord’s words.

Feyre gives you a reassuring shoulder squeeze, “He’ll be alright. He’s got you.”

You give her a meek smile and exit the office, on your way to try and cheer up your friend.

————

“Az!” you call out in the House of Wind, “Where are you?”

He appears down the hall, a flurry of shadows swirling around him and towards you. “Yes, Y/N?”

“Can you please give me a lift to the city? I’ve got a few things to pick up, and I’m craving something from that bakery.”

Azriel nods, “Sure, are you ready to go now?”

“Sure am, lead the way.”

He scoops you up into his arms like he did the day he rescued you and launches into the sky. The wind rushes past your face and you scream out in joy, loving the exhilarating feeling of soaring through the air. You wrap your arms tighters around Azriel’s neck as he starts to descend.

You land and he places you down gently. ‘Thank you, kind sir,” you say, curtsying. Azriel rolls his eyes but can’t fight the smile creeping onto his face.

You grab his hand and break into a skip down the street, triumphant over your small win - getting a grin out of the spymaster.

Azriel follows after you, listening intently as you chatter away animatedly.

As you exit a shop selling different apothecary ingredients you spy a busker on the street playing the fiddle.

“Oh Az, will you dance with me?”

Azriel pauses, observing the crowd before taking your extended hand in his. The two of you dance clumsily in the street, letting the music flow through your body.

As the musician hits the crescendo, Azriel lifts you into the air and spins with you while you laugh loudly and unabashed. When he places you on your feet you notice a small crowd has gathered, they break into applause for both you and the fiddler as the song ends.

You take Azriel’s hand and make him bow with you. He smiles and shakes his head but humours you. You tip the busker generously and give him a small wave as you continue down the street, still holding onto Azriel’s hand.

As you approach your favourite bakery - Azriel’s mood has lightened. You can still feel the pain but it has lessened significantly.

————

With your treats in hand, you make your way to the Sidra and lean against the wrought iron banister edging the river.

Azriel said he’d get whatever you did - so you opted for two huge brownies with a generous dusting of icing sugar on top.

“These look so good,” you gush, grinning madly at Azriel.

The slice of cake is so thick that your nose brushes it as you take a bite. You cover your mouth as you chew and swallow.

“That is amazing,” you moan, turning to Azriel. “How is yours?”

Azriel takes one look at you - with sugar on your nose and chocolate in your teeth and bursts into a deep laugh.

“It’s brilliant, but how have you already made such a mess?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, “Is there something on my face?”

“Here let me.” He reaches up and brushes your nose softly, wiping away the sugar. “It’s still all in your teeth though.”

“I’m saving that for later,” you say with a wink and the two of you burst out laughing again.

Standing so close to Azriel, you can’t help but admire his gorgeous face. And his eyes - there are less shadows in them.

“Thank you for today,” Azriel says quietly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. “You’re good at that.”

“Good at what?”

“Knowing what I need.” He smiles, “Come on,” he beckons with his head, “Let's get back home before you make more of a mess of yourself.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Tags ♡ @littlestw01f @impossibelle @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @the-wall-willow @xasael @lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe

#poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d2 #poly!acotar #cazriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar oneshot #acomaf

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danikamariewrites · 22 days

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Watch Your Step

Feysand x reader

A/n: happy day 2 and another Feysand fic! Comfort fics are some of my favorites especially for Rhys. Some of my favorite moments with him and Feyre are in ACOWAR and he’s just doting on her. @polyacotarweek

Warnings: descriptions on injuries and comfort

“Nyx, slow down!” You yelled over the little boy's screeches and giggles as he ran through the upstairs hall. You held your dress above your calves, feet carrying you quickly.

You jumped toys littered across the carpet. Sighing mentally you make a note to have the boy clean up his toys. “Bet ya can’t catch me mom!” He giggled, disappearing around the corner. “No running on the stairs young man!” He giggled again as you heard the sound of winnowing. You came to a halt. The three of you knew Nyx’s powers were developing. He could finally hide his wings on command like Rhys. But winnowing was very new.

The first time he winnowed he had taken Rhys with him. Ending up outside the Winter Court palace wanting to see his friend, the Princess of Winter. To know he could winnow so far at such a young age was impressive but terrifying.

Your thoughts raced you began sprinting for the stairs. Praying to the Cauldron your little boy was only downstairs and not somewhere unknown.

Not keeping your eyes on the ground you completely missed the pair of toy swords in a small wagon on the first step. Your bare foot landed right on the center of the wooden toys, splintering them in half. Not even getting a chance to right yourself your other foot stays suspended in midair as the wagon moves across the stair.

Your ankle turns and you feel something pop. Falling down the stairs backwards you let out a scream. You try to grab hold of the banister to slow down, your fingers screaming in protest. You hit the curved landing hard. Rolling to a stop thanks to the wall.

Thanks to the pain numbing your body and ringing ears you didn’t hear Nyx scream for you. Or the multiple pairs of feet thundering to get to you as quickly as possible.

Groaning, you roll over onto your back, trying to keep your breathing steady. You keep your eyes screwed shut at the pain still coursing through your bones.

Nyx was now sitting next to you. A little hand on your face to comfort you. “Like mommy and daddy do for you,” he said once.

“I’m ok buddy, I’m ok.” You manage through gritted teeth. Opening your eyes you smile up at him. Panic on his little features. “See, mom’s ok. Just a little fall.”

Nesta and Azriel are first to arrive, Rhys and Feyre looking destressed right behind them. Nesta quickly gathers Nyx in her arms much to the boys dismay. He starts fidgeting wildly in his aunts arms fighting to get back to you.

Before he can be told to Az winnows away to get Madja. Rhys scoops you into his arms making his way to the bedroom quickly. Feyre prepares you a spot, fluffing your pillow as Rhys set you down gently.

“Questions later. I don’t want stress her out and add to her pain.” Rhys says into Feyre’s mind. He looks back at his mate to see silver lining her eyes. Her hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. “It’s ok angel, we’re here.” Feyre whispered softly. You squeezed her hand in response. The both of them could feel your pain through the bond and it was breaking their hearts.

Madja came bustling in as quickly as possible leaving Azriel to linger in the doorway. The old healer shoos your mates away, “I can’t work with you two breathing down my neck. Go with the Shadowsinger. I’ll come get you once she’s patched up.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. They’re hesitant to leave you but know it’s for the best.

An hour later Madja had left you with your ankle wrapped and strict bed rest orders which Feyre and Rhys took very seriously. For the next week your mates kept a close eye on you, not letting you move an inch.

“I still think you should keep your ankle elevated, my love.” Feyre sweetly chastises you a few days later. You roll your eyes as she puts the lunch tray down to fluff the throw pillow you abandoned a half hour ago.

“I’m fine, Fey. Besides, it’s practically healed.” She hummed, raising a brow at you, gently placing your foot on the pillow. “You want to tell Rhys that?” You sigh, dropping your head against the headboard.

Rhys has been worse than normal. Maybe because it was the worst at home injury any of you had sustained. He wouldn’t even let you sleep in the middle of the bed like usual. Rhys insisted you take his side while he slept in the middle so it would be easier to carry you out of bed.

Feyre placed the tray on your lap as she settled next to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your delicately pointed ear. “How are you feeling?” She asks softly.

“Better. The pain in my side is gone and my head is fine, the only problem is the pain in my ankle.” Feyre hums looking back at your bandaged ankle. You start to pick at your food when you notice a card under the plate. Picking it up you smile. Nyx had drawn you many get well soon cards over the last few days. “Good.”

In the middle of your meal and chat with Feyre, Rhys made his way into the bedroom taking the other spot next to you in bed. He takes your chin gently in his fingers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As if he was afraid of causing you more pain. “Hi angel, how are you feeling?” You smile against his lips, “Good.” He lets out a content hum leaning away from you.

As the week went on your mates let up on their hovering. When the bandage came off Rhys would massage your ankle every night, rubbing a special salve Madja gave you. While their overbearing nature at times can be aggravating, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d never stop being thankful to have mates and a family that cares so much about you.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #feyre x you #feyre x reader #feyreandrhysand #feyre acotar #feyre archeron #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x you #poly!feysand x reader #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d2

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acourtofladydeath · 22 days

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Poly+ ACOTAR Week Day 2: Comfort

Nesta has always struggled with more intense cycles than most, and when she became fae it only got worse. Thankfully, her mates Azriel and Cassian are there to take care of her.

Based on my headcanon that Nesta has endometriosis, which became more intense after she went through the Cauldron.

Have some Nessriel hurt/comfort fluff for @polyacotarweek day 2. Start reading below the cut, and read the full fic on AO3 here!

When Nesta rolled out of bed that morning her body felt sluggish, tired even after a full night's sleep. But warriors, especially Valkyrie’s, didn’t let anything keep them from training. She held in her groan as she sat up, trying not to wake Azriel. The male could sleep until the second before training started, still make it on time, and be one of the most alert people there. Cassian had awoken and left the bed almost an hour ago, preferring to have extra time for his hair and breakfast routine. Nesta fell somewhere in the middle. She allowed herself only the exact amount of time it took her to pull on her leathers, braid her hair, grab a quick snack from the House, and make it to the training ring. Each step she took felt heavier than the last, and her arms ached from what was typically the easy task of taming her hair. If that wasn’t a sign that something about this day would be different, the House providing Nesta with a pan au chocolat instead of her regular oats with berries definitely was. Groaning at the realization of what the House was trying to tell her, Nesta decided that she would pretend like it wasn’t happening and accept the House’s gift as a token of friendship and not the warning it was. This was her first mistake. The second mistake was heading up to train with the Valkyries and her mates. Training was horrible. Azriel and Cassian kept an eye on Nesta as she faltered slightly. Not enough that any of the usual priestesses training with them would notice, but these males were finely in tune with their mate’s abilities and they noticed the subtle differences. Toward the end of practice Emerie and Nesta sparred. When Emerie actually managed to land a gut punch Nesta had been properly defending for years, both females immediately stopped. Nesta stood hunched over, fighting for her breath through the pain that radiated through her body. In an instant, Emerie was by her side. “Fuck Nes, are you okay? I didn’t think I hit that hard, I’m so sorry.” Emerie grabbed Nesta’s arm and helped her to sit on the ground. It took several moments before Nesta could gasp in a full breath. She felt the stares of her mates from across the training ring, and sensed their concern flow down their shared bonds. Cassian and Azriel respected her enough to know that she could handle her own training, even if she took a bad hit. They wouldn't approach unless she was too injured to respond or she asked for them. Instead of getting up as she usually did, Nesta curled further in on herself. The scent of blood filled the ring, and Cassian could no longer keep himself from helping his mate. Within moments he was kneeling beside Nesta and Emerie at the edge of the ring.

Finish reading on AO3 here!

Please let me know if you would like off or on my taglist! @pippsmcgee @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yanny-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing

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morilemochi · 9 months

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Ghost Headcanons (mostly about food)

> Your ghost can taste what you eat and will insist on you visiting the City and try out the food for once instead of caging yourself on the Tower eating ramen all the time.

> Your ghost has favorite foods and some of them your allergic to.

> They will remind you that getting an allergic reaction isn't the worst thing to experience.

"I'll just revive you when the allergic reaction gets too bad! I've revived you over smaller things! Remember when you accidentally shot a rocket launcher too close to a wall?"

> Your ghost softly pressing themselves against small portions of food, pretending their 'eating' with you.

> Your ghost seeing their KinderGaurdian Titan watch a Warlock eat their grenade and want to do the same

> Your ghost who will transmat your helmet back on mid meal because they think it's funny

> Your ghost who will silently transmat snacks to remind you to eat during missions

> Your ghost who will avoid talking about how people *have* drank vex juice, and technically you *can* consume vex juice but know that you *will* try to drink it if someone ever atleast hints that you can

> Your ghost who will beg you to change their gingerbread shell into something else when visiting Saint-14 and his Pigeons

> Your ghost who will remind you that bread with cheese isn't a "proper meal", it's a snack at best

> Your ghost who will transmat you near a food vendor or your kitchen when you've spent too long not eating

> Your ghost who probably transmats the small bits of vegetables you put the side of your plate on your spoon mid bite

> Your ghost who tells you about the latest food trends and recommends you a few restaurants to eat at

> Your ghost who orders take out of your favourite food on a bad day and transmats it on your work table, knowing it will make your day

> Your ghost that tells you about the different types of milk, not realizing some of the plants or animals dont exist anymore for a long long time.

'Okay okay, that's alot of milks, but what's a Goat and can I turn it into a gun?'

"Oh-"

> Your ghost that will suddenly tell you the nutritional contents of food or items you didn't even know were edible

And you stare at each other while you wonder how they know this and what type of gaurdian did they have before you to even gain such information

> Your ghost that probably likes hanging out in empty food or cereal boxes saying "Hey look I have a new shell!" as a joke

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny ghost #d2 #destiny hunter #destiny titan #destiny warlock #destiny 2 fic #destiny2headcanons

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catboyazem · 2 years

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"Oh yeah? I heard you and I were gonna float Saturn in a bathtub." "I'm serious, Jol." "And you'll be dead serious if you go to Mars, har-dee-har-har. Target range 2,900 meters. Wind and rotation?" "Wind 21 kph from your three o'clock. You are two degrees off spin-north. I'm going, though, I really am. You've got to come! You'll never live it down if you miss this one." "I'll never live anything down if I'm dead! Shot ready." "Send it. You've been with me on all the big ones, Jol. I can't do it without you. Besides—if we don't do it, some Guardians will, and the next thing you know, Mara will be inviting them in to do Crow work." "You're a lot like your sister, except that when she plays dirty, she doesn't smile so big." "I got all the charm in the family. Nobody's ever been inside the Garden. Imagine what we'll find."

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kitsunabi · 9 months

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Being on the renheng/renfeng train for me is so weird and even now I’m still not sure how I sit in regards to the lore as it is rn (especially coming from a game like D2 where resurrection without memories of the past life, responsibility for crimes, burying your loved ones since you outlive them, etc is absolutely a thing that’s explored).

Like culturally I don’t believe vidyadhara can sustain itself without the understanding that you are not who you were. They live forever! They’re a finite population! They do not reproduce, if one dies that’s it! But they also have things like hatching rebirth where they become a new person more or less with no memories of their previous identity (with some exceptions).

Their avg lifespan is 700 years but there’s a whole thing with an npc who molts every few months instead bc she suffers from rapid growth. She forgets who she is every time! What do you do with that?

There’s another npc who clocks the same xianzhou woman every lifetime for 4 lifetimes (up to 2800 years if we go by max). Because she never dies she is 100% aware of who he is and just chooses not to tell him until the MC gets involved this time around. Each time he has no idea he’s going after the same person and is intensely jealous of his previous persona. What do you do with that?

We have our disaster couple here where the conflict right now is bc of previous aggressions. Like what do I do with this? I haven’t been this invested in anything in a long while

#i will fight you if you judge crow by his uldren actions Idgaf #honkai star rail #renfeng #renheng #look I’m just praying my fic doesn’t desync from canon when 1.3 comes out pls mhy just this once I worked so hard on it #on the subject of d2 it was so heartbreaking to learn that he was beaten/killed/tortured for who he was pre-resurrection because the ppl #around him could not see him as Not-Uldren and reading about how even Glint would hide so ppl would leave so he could ressurect him again #and the entire Zavala plot line where he outlived his wife and son!!! to age and war!!! like how do you get over that #the worst part is that he didn’t just outlive them he’s outlived generations of his wife’s family and it was wild to realize #iirc the scene where it’s just graves upon graves to get that point across was so tragic #there are 2 wolves inside us: one wants clean slate resurrections the other needs the red string of fate and I hate this #kittybee games

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chunkypossum · 23 days

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Embers in the Wind

Ch 2: Eyes Closed, Head Down

Nesta X Cassian x Eris for @polyacotarweek

DAY 2: Comfort

Ch 2/4

4k words

READ ON AO3

Snippet under the cut.

Eris muttered something as he took a sip and Cassian felt Nesta stiffen next to him. “What did you say?” He growled. “I said,” Eris raised his voice, sitting up and leveling Cassian with a stare that would make lesser men wilt. A true lord of fire. “The mother has a sick sense of humor.” He slumped back in his chair and smirked, downing his second glass completely. Cassian tracked the movement as he swallowed, watching as a drop of whiskey that hadn’t made it into his mouth slipped from the corner of his lips and slid down the column of his throat. Realizing what he was doing, Cassian’s nostrils flared and he too threw back his entire drink in one gulp. Nesta’s eyes narrowed on him and she sent a tug down their bond but he ignored her. “What if we made a bargain?” She offered, looking down at her hands. “Absolutely not.” Eris said. At the same time as Cassian ground out a resounding, “No.” “See,” Nesta teased, “Already working together. That’s progress.” She winked at Cassian who glowered back. Out of the corner of his eye Cassian swore he saw a smirk on Eris’ mouth, but by the time he had looked at the male the smile was nowhere to be seen.

I know I gave a shout out on Ao3 but needed to here too! @acourtofladydeath thank you so much for your help beta-ing this fic. Your suggestions were beautiful and made all the difference.

If anyone wants on or off the taglist please let me know!

@hieragalbatorixdottir @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @pathfinderofnight @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @icey--stars

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shalalalalaw · 1 year

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He can still feel the Light.

Like the dew dripping down his brow and onto Pahanin’s pale cheek, drained of Light and life both. It’s warm. The Garden is always warm (because it grows grows grows in every way he looks and he can feel it beneath his feet, calling him to grow with it).

He moves them. To the crest of a waterfall, high enough to see in any direction they would ever (never-ever-never-again-and-again) choose. It’s the least he can do. It’s all he can do, his mind slowly turning from conscious stream-of-thought-desire-emotion and to Directive, to Cause, to What He Is Meant To Do As Who He Chose To Become.

Kabr feels the Light.

Like the creak of his joints. Bone and brass rubbing painfully in his right elbow as he lifts Praedyth’s limp body in his arms. As he arranges the pieces of their Ghosts in each of their hands.

He wants to cry for them. He wants to cry for them all, but he suspects his tear ducts have already been scrapped out, it’s already so hard to move his eyelids. Instead he cradles his own Ghost in his hands. A vine slowly grows to curl around its shell from the cut in his palm.

Kabr remembers Praedyth telling him once, whispering under the night like a secret. That he’d Wished. Wished for them to never end.So Kabr will not let them end. He will not let them be lost.

Kabr does not feel the Light anymore.

Had some spirited screams with @gileonnen on twitter earlier about a 'what if the VoG trio took the place of the Kentarch crew as the Garden trio' scenario because Gil always has good ideas and this came of it

#pahanin #praedyth #kabr #vex shenanigans #destiny #d2 fic #nana writes #as per usual #im a sucker for the vog boys

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itsalwaysforyou · 3 months

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the black sky and all those lights

a silly little something i wrote for jalentines!!

When Mal opens the dormitory door, Jay is standing in the hallway in his workout gear, hair tied up in a bun. He’s already grinning in that way he does when he wins a fight. Mal rolls her eyes at him. Grabbing her bag, she says bye to Evie, and joins Jay in the corridor.

She scowls as they walk, her workout clothes tight on her skin. Jay had insisted they’d do things properly, and not in their usual leather.

The hallways are decorated for Valentine’s Day, making Auradon Prep even more gaudy and colourful as usual. Pink and red hearts plastered across the walls, boasting the abundance of love here in Auradon. Jay’s had a thousand notes in his locker. Mal’s had none. Every morning, she watches Jay approach his locker like he would a target on the Isle. Weight forward, shoulders squared; ready to fight if needs be. And the paper falls to the floor like blood, only sickly pastel. Scrawled glittery gel pen. Words confessing passionate love, or asking him on dates, or doodles of hearts. Jay smiles the whole time. Greets and winks at girls. Scrunches those notes up in a fist.

“Everywhere looks disgusting,” Mal says as they approach the sports hall. Heart-shaped bunting crests the doors.

Jay holds the door open for her. “It’s fun.”

“You would think that.”

The sports hall is mercifully free of décor. They drop their bags in the corner and begin to warm up, another stupid practice Jay insists on. His top rides up as he side-stretches. Isle rule: never show skin, especially to the enemy. Except, Jay loved to parade around in those stupid sleeveless vests. She’s yelled at him plenty of times about it—Are you insane? You’re a walking target. He would just grin and say, they’ll have to catch me first.

Jay laughs as he grabs the practice swords from their stands. “Here.”

He throws it, and Mal catches. The weight in her hand is familiar. Already, her pulse is thrumming faster, and maybe if she closes her eyes she’ll be back on the docks, with the wind ripping at her hair, and the salt stinging her nose, and half a dozen of Uma’s crew jeering over the clanging of swords.

Jay chucks her a mask too, before attaching one to his own face. The mesh turns her vision slightly hazy.

“Ready?” Jay asks.

Mal’s watched fencing practise a few times, mostly as an excuse not to do homework and instead watch her boys wipe the floor with all those prissy Auradon princes. Coach Jenkins appointed Jay captain of the team a few months ago, a role he takes more seriously than she’s ever seen him take anything.

“Rassembler! Salute! Lower the point. Masks down. En guarde!”

Mal lunges first, which Jay clearly anticipates, parrying her blow. He circles. Strikes. Mal blocks it. He’s quick. Reflexes honed to a sword’s point; learned by practise and theory. Mal lashes out again, just catching his free arm before he jerks away. She grins underneath her mask. Her breath comes quicker. Jay’s blade arcs down, hitting her chest. Mal swats his blade away. She hears him laugh. She growls. Strike. Parry. Strike. Block. Strike. Jay lands another hit. Their shoes squeak against the linoleum floor.

“Come on, Mal,” Jay teases.

Mal lunges like a cat on its prey. Jay’s blade grates against hers like steel against flint. Jay may be quick but Mal’s smaller, and she weaves her way through Jay’s blade until they both have the sword’s point angled at each other’s chests.

They’re both panting. Jay lowers his sword first. Takes off his mask.

“You came in clutch at the end,” he says.

Mal huffs, wiggling the mask off her face and wiping her forehead with a sleeve. “You actually get training.”

“And now I’m training you!”

His hair has loosened during the sparring, spilling out at the seams. He unties the bun; flips his hair down and shakes it out. In this late-afternoon light, his hair could be made of gold. Hair longer than Mal’s ever had.

He pulls his hair back into its bun, deft fingers making quick work. When he straightens back up again, his face is slightly flushed from the match.

And Mal looks at this boy she’s known most of her life; this face and these hands; a boy that has held her at the end of the world and the start of a new one. And she snatches back down her mask.

“Again,” she says, lifting up her sword.

She’s swinging before Jay’s even had the chance to pull his own mask back down. Her blade slices against his chest, and she hears the breath escape from his lungs.

“Fuck!’

Jay’s blocking her hits in no time. Mal grits her teeth. A boy who’s inhabited every place she’s ever been. The shadow along the street; a fixed point on the rooftops. Those long, quick fingers that know their way around bandage; around open flesh; around her own hands. Like a comet to Earth. Like an eclipse. Totally consuming.

And here, where the sun shines brighter than they could have ever dreamed, she is left blistering. Those girls that fawn over Jay, professing their love with the same ease that Mal can hold a dagger to a throat. Jay’s clicking tongue, and that low fry to his voice when he’s chatting someone up. Everything is always so easy to him. He can wrap anyone around his finger with a wink.

His blade slams into her stomach. Mal pants, the budding pain in her side clearing her head. Jay’s standing above her like some heavenly deity.

“Best of four?” he offers.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“C’mon. Let’s take a break.”

Jay drops his sword and grabs his water bottle from his bag. Mal joins him, still gripping her sword, gulping down her water like a man in a desert.

“We should do this again soon,” Jay says.

“Tomorrow?”

“It’s the Valentine’s Ball tomorrow.”

Mal snorts. “Yeah, and?”

“I was gonna go.”

His words are coming too slow; too considered. Like when he used to talk about his dad, or a particularly bad Barge Day. Rehearsed. A guard dog who’s smelled danger, prowling at the sidelines.

Mal presents her blade. “En guarde!” she shouts, and Jay ducks her swing before scrambling over to his own sword.

“Really, Mal? Another sneak attack?”

“I’m keeping you on your toes.”

They waltz around the sports hall, the blades clashing and slicing and singing.

“We all agreed we weren’t going to go to the Ball,” Mal says, jabbing at Jay.

“We never agreed anything.”

Jay lands a blow. They are at the dockyard, with its rotting wooden pier and dead fish stench. The screeching of metal; the shouting; Mal’s heart hammering like the tide. Blood, and life. The roar in her ears. A dragon’s call. Body moving without a thought, as quick as a lightning strike. Not having to look behind her because she knows Jay is there.

“Exactly!” she says. “Why would we want to go to some stuffy Auradon ball?” Jay tries to say something but she ignores him. “Why would we care about Valentine’s Day? It’s corny, and over-commercialised, and a stupid excuse to make everything about love.”

Jay has her backed up against a wall. With no time to mount his mask, his lips are slightly parted, and his hair is escaping from his bun again. He looks just like he did on the Isle; none of his perfect prince act that fools Auradon. His sword hovers above her throat.

“Do you yield?” His voice is low.

Mal stares at him. Those eyes that have seen every part of her. All the blood; every smile; her pale skin in the dark Isle nights. The boy that has beheld her every action; weighed it all against his own understanding of the world, and decided that they slot together as easily as a bullet in a pistol.

“Who are you going with to the Ball?” Mal asks. She’s still clutching her sword. She could claim the upper hand, if she really wanted.

A grin creeps across Jay’s face. All those notes and heart-shaped lollipops. The giggling girls at his locker. He could pick any one of them. All of them so beautiful, in their sunset-coloured dresses. He could have anything he wanted.

“Well,” Jay says. “I was going to ask you.”

The sword’s point makes sure they keep their distance. Never too close. All touches so light; so fleeting, as if you could’ve mistaken them for a dream. As if you could’ve imagined the whole thing. All those nights in the hideout where the barrier of the body seemed thin, and the world became so small: just two kids who wouldn’t even dare knock knees.

So Mal shakes it all away with a laugh. “I’m not going to the Valentine’s Ball.”

Jay lowers his blade. Neither of them move. “Not even with me?”

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of other girls who actually want to go with you.”

“I want to go with you.”

His words echo through the empty hall. His word is as steadfast as ever, the only opinion Mal will ever trust. Compass, anchor: Jay does it all.

Heralded here, Mal as real as the vast sky outside. Here, in his gaze, held aloft by trust where there shouldn’t be and compassion where there shouldn’t be and understanding where there shouldn’t be. A home for all her broken bones.

Mal’s lips unfurl into a smile. This ache in her chest. In her throat. Jay always being able to disarm her. Jay in every place she’s ever been. Jay as her shadow; her skin; her second self. A reflection in the mirror. The line of separation is nonexistent. Like the sun, like the moon: one cannot exist without the other.

#did this turn out way longer than i anticipated? absolutely #but i had a lot of fun writing it :) ive had to write a lot of things that Matter recently so it was nice to just. not have to try so hard #anyway anyway I LOVE THEM #i just think. mal being soooo annoyed that jay gets to play the carefree flirt #all these people that dont know him being 'in love' with him meanwhile mal can barely come to terms with her own feelings for him #and she communicates that through violence :)#and jay. jayyyyy. doesnt really want anything to do with these notes. like sure he likes the attention but he doesnt KNOW any of these girl #and they dont know him. and no one could know him like mal does :)#i also purposefully left the ending ambiguous teehee :) so i guess we'll never know what happened thumbs up emoji #descendants #jal #jay son of jafar #mal bertha #my fic #also i am not a fencer so everything i know is from the jay/lonnie right in d2 and google 👍 sorry to any fencers out there 👍#*fight

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