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auraee · 1 year

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- ℍ𝕠𝕞𝕖. -

𓇬𝕎𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕣'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖 ~ Well, this was a little something that I had also cooking up while I'm working on my slighlty larger story! Monster hunter has been a game that I grew to absolutely love (and I mean really love) throughout these past few months and I haven't been able to put it down since. As you can probably already guess, the dabble is going to be pretty self-indulgent, so if that's not up your alley I reccomend skipping this one out. Also in this dabble it does imply that the reader is a woman and if that makes you uncomfy, please bonk me so I can post a replica that's neutral. With that being said-

𓇬 𝖧𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀!

𓇬Tagging ~ @potofstewie @kyojurosfirelilyy @mitsuris-big-boobies @comatosebunny09 @lilyisfrozen @cherrykamado

𝔻𝕖𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕞𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ~

𝔸𝕫𝕦𝕣𝕖 ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕤 - Azure Rathalos is a Subspecies of Rathalos, and thus, it shares almost all of the same characteristics. However, its shell that is usually fiery red is now an azure colour, hence the Azure title. Its wing webbing is lime green, and its tail has one single red spike on the end. It has higher stamina, higher health and higher attack power, and is considerably more aggressive.

𝕎𝕪𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕟 - The wyvern is a type of biped dragon or dragon-like creature that possessed two legs and often a pointed tail which was said to be poisonous. At present, dragons that have two legs and two wings are often called "wyvern."

𝕎𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕟 𝕋𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤 - A large wooden beer and or ale mug.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ~ 𓇬 ~

I did it.

Finally, I could return home.

Singed to my skin— my armour clung to my weary body.

Since when had it become so heavy?

Muscles coiled and burned with aching cramps and deep-set hidden bruises. Frustrating. I barely had the strength to sustain myself, much less the golden battle bow on my back. It wasn’t far now, my home. Still a little further north of the ancient forest to one the sectors of the hunter’s guild. The higher ups one day called me in and requested I track an Azure Rathalos, hunting it among three other members of similar rank. Being eager to rise to Master rank, I took on the quest, doing my best to lead the party of hunters despite my reluctance to talk, and was ever thankful for their patience.

With the location being the Elder’s recess, tracking it down was an especially arduous job as it being my first time there. Traversing the jagged landscapes of pointed solid rock and glimmering earth crystals we eventually found it.

…Despite the awful timing.

Being of the sub-pieces category, this type of Rath is far more imposing than it’s scaly, red counter-parts. It bulks up on its aggressivity, becoming more mobile, intelligent and deadly both to protect itself against competitors and as a means to prove his strength to a potential mate. And given that it is mating season… It was especially agitated. We were informed that, for some time now, it had been causing trouble to the other, less ferocious species within its territory and was hence needed to be taken down.

Remnants of the wyvern’s poison still coursed through my veins. Arid, vindictive. It still sought to kill even after the dragon who made it had long perished. If it wasn’t for the antidote, I would've been in far worse condition. I consider myself lucky to only feel agonsing discomfort. After all, we were not the first hunting party asked to track that dragon specifically.

Something flickered into view. A small, floating light just beyond the ageing glade sky-piercing trees.

Then there was another, and another.

My measly pace quickened, having new found vigour that suppressed the poison that sought to immobilise me. My eyes stung, pooling molten streams down my cheeks at the sight of my home. My heart rattled my ribcage. I was almost there, it wasn’t long now. Before long I stood in silence in front of the guild’s imposing doors. The internal pitter-patter in my left breast created a solid rhythmic melody for my ears alone. My gloved hand gripped the silver handle and gave it a tug. For a moment there was silence. Rows and rows of hunters shifting their attentions to the one lone huntress and her hunting party standing under the wooden archway.

I gulped.

“H-hello, um–”

A dissonance of sounds assaulted my ears. Yelling, shouting, the reverberating sound of collective wooden tankards being smashed together in a clamorous toast, cheering— I mostly heard the cheering.

We were surrounded in moments. Pelted with questions about our hunt and the spoils from it. The lance user with my group took the spotlight, telling the tale of our hunt to the ever buzzing hunters. In the chaos of it all I sought it fit to make my escape, I had little energy to sit there recounting the events despite my worries about my comrades exaggerating the story. My mind was elsewhere. I wanted to see a good friend of mine. I’d missed him so much.

I slipped through the crowds, weaving through shouts of praise and slipped out of the guild hall. I walked a little further along the port admiring the wood-work, taking in the forest air that I had grown to love after we settled here not even a few months back. Footsteps disrupted my nostalgia. I allowed my gaze to wonder, only to have it fall on the man I’d been looking for.

Bright eyed, Kyojuro’s fervent hair rested just beyond his shoulders. His marigold eyes sparkled, embracing the colours of the resting sun as their own, an ever prominent feature of his face. Though not in combat, his sword was hilted on his back. Rare it was to see him without it.

His grin made me giggle, he never failed to look silly when he looked at me that way.

“_____! It’s wonderful to see you!” Kyojuro beamed, embracing me. “I’ve missed you so much!”

In turn, I wrapped my arms around him. Bunching up his linen shirt into small mounds in my fists.

“I’ve missed you too, Kyo.”

This warmth. Something that had become so familiar to me after so many years became the thing I craved most while I lay to rest after a tenacious day out on a hunt.

I had done enough. I could rest, even if it was just for a moment.

I breathed in his scent. Tender and sweet, with a hint of sweat.

“Were you training again?” I asked, pulling away.

Kyojuro nodded. “And taught the fledgling hunters.” He added. “I can never be too careful. Especially considering the discoveries of new species are now happening more frequently.”

“I see.” I contended. “I suppose you’re right”

“And yourself?” Kyojuro asked. “How did your hunt go?”

A smile tugged at my lips, letting my gaze drift back at the archway I had just come through. The celebration had risen tenfold since I was last there. “I think you can tell how it went based on the cheering.”

Kyojuro hummed, reaching to poke my cheek. “I can surmise… but I’d like to hear it from you.”

“Ew, sweaty fingers!”

“Hey, come on now...” Kyojuro said, looking at his finger and back at me. “They're not that bad, are they?”

I giggled, cupping my cheek. “Yes they are.”

Kyojuro’s brows furrowed, a rather formidable pout adorning his lips. “I cannot tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“I’m kidding, and the hunt went well.” I chuckled, lending my weight to a nearby wooden mast. “We suffered injuries, casualties, but thankfully no one died.”

“I’m glad it went well.” Kyojuro’s gaze softened, reaching back to fiddle with his pocket. “In fact, in doing so, I have got you a gift!”

I blinked at the boisterous man. “A gift? B-but why?”

“For returning safely!”

Without a moment’s haste, I was presented with a small box. Simple-looking and awkwardly wrapped with an adorable emerald bow as its centrepiece. Something moved inside. I stared at the box in my hands, a supple warmth stirring my emotions.

“...It’s cute.”

“Open it, silly.”

I tucked another laugh under my tongue. “I meant the wrapping, Kyo.”

Scratching the back of his head, Kyojuro’s cheeks blossomed into a cherry tint. “Oh, right! Thank you! Then I believe you’ll like what’s on the inside even more!”

Taking his word on that claim I undid the bow and lifted the lid of the small hazelnut box and found myself awestruck by what I found inside. A pendant. Hung from a black cord was a little, amber ladybug.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous!” I said, ogling the pendant. “Where was the smithy’s able to find the ore?”

Kyojuro crossed his arms, his eyes brimming with pride. “While you were tasked with hunting the wyvern, I decided to go on an expedition to the Elder’s Recess.”

“A-alone?”

“Mhm! I’m more than qualified to venture there alone.”

My eyes darted between the pendant and my dear friend. “But… for this? Kyojuro, you didn’t have to—”

“I did it because I wanted to. I wanted to find the perfect jewel,” Kyojuro smiled, “one that matched my view of you perfectly.”

A simmered pitter-patter arose at Kyojuro’s words.

A jewel that matched me perfectly…

“I love it… thank you. It’s a beautiful gift.” I giggled, taking the amber ladybug jewel between my fingers. “I’ll think of you whenever I look at it and it’ll bring me comfort.”

Kyojuro chuckled. “You’re more than welcome! Would you like help with putting it on?”

Nodding, I lifted the curled ends of my hair, ignoring the already rampant heat I felt flourish when Kyojuro’s fingers brushed the sides of my neck. The ladybug glistened in the warm pallet of the sunset, further stirring my heart knowing that it was given to me by someone I cared for so much.

“Just as I thought…” Kyojuro mumbled. “The gem, it matches you perfectly.”

𓇬 Like what you read? Consider reblogging and commenting! It supports me as a writer and gets my work further out there.

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- 𝔸𝕝𝕝 𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤 -

❀ 𝔸𝕟 𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 ⚘ ꕤ 𝕀𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 ⚘ ❁ 𝕊𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕟

If you’re just going to like this post— don’t. Likes don’t do anything for me. They don’t help in any way shape or form. So please don’t like this if you’re not willing to reblog the post as well.

#kyojuro rengoku x black!reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #kyojuro x you #kyojuro x black reader #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku kyojuro #black female reader #kyojuro fluff #rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyoujurou

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thought-42 · 1 year

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WIP amnesty is a thing right?

Good morning tumblr would you like to see an excerpt from a modern au that I’m never going to finish so that I can officially remove it from my WIP list?

Of course you would.

Do not let the bit above the cut fool you, this is primarily Caleb having a very bad dissociative time

"Woah, woah, what the fuck are you doing," Beau says. Essek's eyebrow arches.

"Poisoning your drink so I can live one day in peace," he says, mildly.

"The fuck you are," Beau says. "Why the fuck are you putting cinnamon in your perfectly good wine?"

"Firstly, don't lie to yourself, we haven't seen perfectly good wine in literal years. Secondly, it was Jester's idea."

"Why are you taking Jester's drink suggestions, she's not even old enough to drink."

Jester frowns over at Beau. "I could drink if I wanted to, I just like my dignity intact."

Fjord chokes on his hot chocolate.

Essek snaps the lid on the cinnamon shut. "To be fair, you really couldn't. You are an actual infant." He says it with affection, but Jester still looks annoyed.

"Don't listen to him," she tells Caleb, squeezing his forearm with both hands. "He's just defensive because I showed him the meaning of friendship and also the meaning of being blatantly manipulated by older men from a foreign government when you're a teenager."

"You were so nice when I met you," Fjord says sadly.

"I'm 117," Essek says primly.

"And you look great for your age, buddy," Beau says, and Bren yanks his arm away from Jester because he really should have predicted that the casual banter was going to go this direction, he really should have been preparing the defective mess of misfiring neurons and screaming in his skull to cancel the lurch of jarring dissociative horror that is a hilariously disproportionate reaction to an entirely unremarkable comment.

He watches a stranger's reflection in the window.

Essek says, "Time is one of my specialties."

Frumpkin rests heavy on his shoulders.

The reflection in the glass fades.

Bren stretches out his hands and-- oh, that is the floor. The chair disappeared from his immediate vicinity, and object permanence is shaky at best.

A cork pops, somewhere behind him, and he only lights a tiny flame. Bren had always said healing potions tasted better than wine. Astrid said his tastes hadn't matured yet.

"Caleb," says Essek, and means the stranger in the window.

Bren had tried to grow a beard one winter until Wulf had pinned him down while Astrid shaved it off of him, all of them laughing because to be held down for a blade had many different connotations in those years. All of them good. He has not looked at his arms yet. He presses and presses on the skin but he does not bleed. He pushes and pushes but the magic comes sirup slow and lethargic.

Scar tissue can take up to a year to form fully, according to the glossy smooth tablet at the public library. A year isn't that long but his arms don't hurt. He rubs a hand across his a forearm but he doesn't feel anything. Caleb's forearm, Bren's hand.

He has not looked at his arms yet.

"Caleb," someone else says, and means 'eleven years'.

"Time is one of my specialties."

He presses his hands against the floor and breathes in, holds it, breathes out, because Caleb is someone who has memorized a list of grounding techniques for moments of dissociation or anxiety. In for four, hold for seven, out for three. The pattern is helpful.

Bren watches Caleb in the window until he can feel the swirls in the linoleum under his fingers and he can track the conversations happening around him through logical progressions for more than ten seconds. He has lost time. An hour and seventeen minutes, which is a fucking spike in the graph that he does not want to think too closely about. An hour and seventeen minutes can get you killed. An hour and seventeen minutes is long enough that at least one person of the additional four in this fucking flat must have tried to engage with him, and no one is shaking him or calling an ambulance and yelling in his face, so his autopilot must be getting better.

That's helpful.

Bren wants to tear his brain out through his eyeballs.

Essek sits down on the floor beside him. Sits down is a generous descriptor-- It's more of a controlled fall, sudden and graceless and lacking the fluidity of drunkenness. Given Caleb just stared at the wall for an hour and seventeen minutes, he supposes he is in no place to judge others' blatant weaknesses.

"Do you want to learn a spell?" Essek says.

"Always," says Caleb, and then "You mentioned Chronogy," which is approximately seven thousand percent more transparent than he ever wants to be in his entire life.

Essek laughs brightly. "Perhaps something a little simpler for your first, hmm?"

Bren wants to shove him down and hurt him or kiss him until he stops laughing. Bren has never had to struggle to learn anything and a Crik traitor is not going to be the first to challenge that. Caleb chuckles, self-effacing, and says "I am maybe a little over-eager, I admit, but it is not often I get the chance to learn from someone as skilled as yourself."

"I suspect you have your own skills," says Essek. "You cast like you've had formal instruction and you look for exits in a room the way my brother does after a bad campaign."

"Please stop," says Caleb, because he does not want to know that Essek has a brother who is important enough to him for his emotional wellbeing to be of note. More immediately, he does not want to know what he's unwittingly given away to Essek.

"My apologies," says Essek. "I will not pry. But please know that I have seen shame in those who choose to remove themselves from a battlefield by any means necessary. Warfare is a barbaric practice, mostly unsuited to mages of skill such as ourselves."

Bren bows his head and glances up at Essek through his eyelashes before looking away. Let him think Caleb a deserter warmage. Let him think Caleb a beggar, a veteran drowning his traumas in alcohol. Let him think Caleb anything but what he really is, which is a disappointment, a murderer, a proven flight risk, a naive child not nearly as smart as he thought he was. Sometimes he thinks about how he would kill Trent if he gets the chance, but it's never satisfying. Trent knows Bren can kill. He'd probably be fucking proud, just for that last archetypal mindfuck. Bren does not need to prove he can kill Trent-- Bren needs to prove he is smarter than Trent. He's either going to do that by publicly exposing his widely varied and horrific crimes to the entire world, along with the rotting apple that is the Cerberus Assembly, or he's going to invent time travel. Both would, obviously, be the ideal outcome, but Bren knows how to be realistic (see: pragmatism, newly developed skillset).

#Caleb Widogast #Essek Thelyss #Shadowgast #cr2 for ts #tumblrfic tag

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soullessjack · 8 months

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fave saw trap?

OOHH oh my god okay I have so many.

Obligatory reverse bear trap mention bc who doesn’t love her, she’s mother. she is the beginning with John and Amanda and she is the end with Jill and Mark, she brings the narrative to a full circle despite her mechanical function being the opposite.

THE BATHROOM TRAP!!!!!! Obsessed with it. The shades of blue and white and the fluorescent lights, the grimy browns and greens and reds, all so absolutely beautiful together. Really pulls you into the dampness and coldness and the filth of it. Obligatory chainshipping mention also. Love those guys. Very normal about them.

the angel trap and its’ fatality is so so visually beautiful to me. she mothers extremely hard (god rest Kerry tho). truly one of the artsiest of the traps. I love the warmish shade of green in the room, and in the acid, and of course I love it contrasting with the red shade of the ribcage gore.

glass coffin for obvious reasons.. mark is soooo delicious in it with his hair all messy and his nose bleeding and his tits propped up I mean what hahah who said that . and I absolutely love the cold shade of blue it gives off, very lovely contrast with marks nosebleed also. and the whole coffinshipping thing. like it’s such a trust-based trap ironically. like, “you know what I’ve done you know who I am you know I am guilty and cannot be trusted whatsoever but will you throw away all of that and trust me anyways, is your will to survive strong enough to trust someone who ostensibly does not deserve it.” so delicious

I don’t like Jigsaw but I will admit the hot wax trap looked pretty cool, definitely one of the scariest of the movie. if you’ve ever seen 2005’s House of Wax it gives the same literally suffocating and uncomfortable feeling as Jared Padalecki’s character’s wax coating (and the horrendous peeling of it) bc you’re watching someone in such a helpless horrible position and relegated only to watching it.

the death mask is another super cool visual trap, love the green tint, love the spikes, even Michael’s eye injury looked cool! the snapping kill at the end was definitely cool too.

the nerve gas house 100% fav. I love saw 2 very dearly, both for Daniel and Amanda and for Mudvayne’s Forget To Remember song in the credits. I didn’t enjoy most of the traps in the house, mostly bc I felt like they could’ve been easily avoided or thought out better (but in the victims’ defense they were actively being poisoned) and also bc I wasn’t very attached to anyone outside of Danny and Mandy. Love the atmosphere of the house, the grime and dim fluorescence and yellow-greens (as a graphic designer warm tints like that are very good at giving off a sense of humidity and feverishness, really adds to the nerve gas poisoning and the claustrophobia of the house, too).

the horsepower trap. quick bonus for the green and yellows tints, but also I’m personally very drawn to settings with mechanical clutter. I’m not mechanically inclined in any way but visually I love looking at them and figuring out what they do. based mark for putting nazis in an inescapable trap also! the kills are deliciously brutal. the skin ripping scene, the windshield crash, the face smashing, and my absolute favorite has to be the arm/jaw yanking (specifically the jaw, idk I just think it’s neat. maybe not neat , per se, but one of those extremely gruesome things that you just can’t look away from. no pun intended it’s like a car crash).

the Mausoleum Trap. love the setting, a trap in a fucking mausoleum is metal as fuck. more traps should have spooky settings like that I think (a morgue trap would go so fucking hard also). love the colors, basically I love the entire concept but the execution could’ve bene way better (which can be said about a lot of 3D’s themes, especially the See/Hear/Speak/Do No Evil ones).

#holdthypeace.txt #sawposting #saw traps #saw 2 #saw 3D #saw 2004 #saw bathroom #glass coffin #reverse bear trap #death mask

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xerxeswitch · 9 days

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My Companion, K.H.

I have been itching as well as been hesitating on making this post, since I am very protective of my bond with him. I have high respect for him to the point where I get possessive of our bond to keeping it mainly a secret in most cases. Only two people knows his true identity. This post is mainly to show him my deepest appreciation. I was going to make a post about him -- his true identity and spreading his name in appreciation for he is an underappreciated known psychopomp in mythology, but he told me that our bond is sacred and it shouldn't be showcased with his name. Other than he said he rather have the focus on how our bond developed, not focusing on his name or legends since he said it holds no worth in our relationship but the relationship itself. So, his name here is K.H. ... I had dreams since I was a toddler. It'd be in a dark cavern with luminescent water emerald green. The caves were gray and had a texture that I do I recognize, but it has subtle carvings of the dead, as if they're embedded in the surfaces. In the water was filled with frightening aquatic creatures that could swallow a person whole, as I recall a huge black frog eating something decayed. There were decaying bodies in the water as well, or people asleep. Not quite dead but not alive. There was a boat in the emerald waters. On that boat was a large man with muscles as big as a normal-sized human head. He has intense, yet stoic dull blue-grey eyes. His gray skin looks to be in decay but it does NOT affect his strength. He wore a big black, aged trench coat. He was bald too. He looked like he could be a bouncer if he wanted to. In his arms was me as a baby. He would be cradling me in his arms as he stood in his boat with a giant, spiked oar. As I grew older around 5-7 years old, I would have dreams nearly back to back returning to him and that cavern and his boat. I would enjoy his rides around that boat, demanding with my childish, bratty demands to keep rowing me back and forth around the area. He doesn't seem to mind too much -- he told me he found it amusing. I tried to get in the emerald water before, but he scolded me saying, "The waters are poisonous, stay out of it, child." He would continue to row me around keeping him company. -- I never forgot those dreams. Ever. It was engrained in my memories as fresh as the day I had them. Suddenly, I had a dream again of seeing him after all these years when I turned 24 -- around the time I accepted my psychic senses and opened myself to the spirit world again. And...well...here we are. I just want to say: Thank you for being there. Somehow, your energy always kind of helped me when you did your work in the shadows. You wanted to make sure I was safe.

I don't know why you care about me so much to the point of acting like a father figure, but I thoroughly appreciate it. I really do. No matter what, you are Family. ---- (If anyone adds up to which mini "deity" figure I am talking about later on, then I'll edit it to make it more discreet. I'm just that protective) (And no, I do not worship "deities," nor believe in the concept that they are "deities" but that doesn't mean I don't like a handful of these beings)

#spirit work #spirit companion #witchblr #witch #spirit companionship #spirit companions #deity #psychopomp

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taeswolfie · 2 months

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𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏

☽︎𝑭𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒚☾︎

Ch.17 - Ch.19

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.7k

Allison took Lydia home while Derek chased Jackson in his kanima form on foot and Scott, Stiles and Y/n followed in the Jeep. Stiles braked in front of a fence with traffic spikes in front of it. "What do we do now?" Stiles asks just as Scott gets out and scales the fence, running to the action. After fighting with Derek and getting shot by Chris the kanima runs away with Scott following. He trails him to a club called Jungle and Scott peeks around the corner, trying to spot anything. When he turns he jumps at the sight of his friends right behind him. "Sorry, I'm sorry." Stiles quickly apologized for the scare.

"You'd think being a werewolf we wouldn't have snuck up on you." Y/n teased a bit and Scott sighs.

"Did you see where he went?"

"I lost him." Scott says.

"What? You couldn't catch his scent?"

"I don't think he has one."

"Y/n? What about you? Can you like track him somehow? Sense his presence or something?"

She shook her head. "It's weird. It's almost like he doesn't have a presence at all. Like he... Doesn't exist."

Stiles sighs a bit in thought. "All right, any clue where he's going?"

"To kill someone." Scott said.

"Ah. That explains the claws, and the fangs, and all that. Good. Makes perfect sense now." Scott gives him a look. "What? Scott, come on. I'm 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bone, okay? Sarcasm is my only defense."

"I'll protect you." Y/n winks at Stiles with a smile making him return it with a slightly flustered nod.

"Just help me find it." Scott snapped a bit.

"Not 'it'. Jackson."

"Yeah, I know. I- I know."

"All right, but does he know that?" Stiles wondered. "Did anybody else see him back at your house?"

"I mean, I don't think so, but he already passed Derek's test anyway."

"Yeah, but that's just the thing. How did he pass the test?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe it's like an either or thing. I mean, Derek said that a snake can't be poisoned by it's own venom, right?"

"When's the kanima not the kanima?" Y/n caught on to what he was saying.

"When it's Jackson." Scott realized.

Stiles looks around and then up, soon backing up a bit and waving his hands in front of him to catch the others attention. "Uh... Guys." They looked at him and then stood next to him to follow his gaze. "See that?" They see the kanima's tail as he slips into the building.

"He's inside."

"What's he gonna do in there?"

Scott got a whiff of something and looked at the line of people going to the club. "I know who he's after."

"What, how? How? Did you smell something?"

Scott nodded. "Armani." Y/n smelled the aftershave just as she looked at the line, spotting Danny just as he's let inside.

They go around to the back and Stiles tries the door only to find it's locked. "Aw, come on." He moves to the side as he looks for another way. "All right, maybe there's, like, a, uh- like, a window we could climb through," Scott looks at Y/n and she gives him a gesture saying 'go ahead' letting him rip off the handle, "or some kind of..." Scott absently hands the object to Stiles. "Handle that we could rip off with supernatural strength. How'd I not think of that one?" He lets the handle fall as he follows the two inside, closing the door as much as he can behind them.

The three walk into a lively club where a mass of bodies dance to loud music under strobe lights and colored lasers. Y/n looks around and raises her brows in surprise that, not only is there a whole bunch of men, some of them are doing impressive things like aerial silks. Scott looks around as he comes to a grand realization. "Dude, everyone in here's a dude. I think we're in a gay club." He turns his head to see Stiles practically surrounded by drag queens, a couple of them gently stroking his hair or arm.

"Man, nothing gets past those keen werewolf sense, huh, Scott?"

Y/n laughs at his predicament, taking his hand and pulling him away. "Sorry, ladies, but this one's taken." She blew a kiss to the group before she, Stiles, and Scott make their way to the bar.

"Three beers." Stiles orders as soon as they get there.

"Actually I'll be fine with a water, please." Y/n corrects.

The bartender nods at her and sets a water in front of her. "I.D.'s." He asks the boys. They pull out their wallets and hand the items over. The bartender looks at them and then the boys before chuckling. "How 'bout two Cokes?"

"Rum and Coke? Sure!" Stiles smiles and bobs his head to the music a bit, but relents when the bartender just looks at him. "Coke's fine, actually. I'm driving anyway."

Another bartender sets the two Cokes in front of them. "That one's paid for." He said to Scott with a look and a nod to across the bar where they see a guy raise his beer in greeting.

Scott looks at Stiles with a shit-eating grin. "Oh, shut up."

"I didn't say anything." He denies.

"Yeah, well, your face did." He angrily takes a sip of his drink.

"Aw, are you jealous?" Y/n teases. She then props her elbow on the bartop and gently rests her chin on her hand, giving Stiles a sultry look. He glances at her and does a double take, the straw falling from his lips. "Do you want me to buy you a drink, handsome?" She lightly trailed a hand up his arm. He nearly spilt his drink when his hand suddenly let go, but he quickly righted himself and played it off. She smirked when she heard the slight racing of his heart and gave him a wink before they all turned to survey the crowd.

"Hey, I found Danny." Stiles said after a minute.

"I found Jackson." Scott was looking up and found the kanima crawling through the rigging on the ceiling. Jackson was dangling right above Danny. "Get Danny."

"What're you gonna do?" Stiles asks. Scott extends his claws in answer. "Works for me." The three merge with the crowd. Y/n tried to stay near Stiles as they looked for Danny, but there were too many people moving and dancing and they got separated.

"Shit." She cursed under her breath. She'll find him but right now she needs to find Danny. She looked around as she moved past the dancing bodies. "Danny!" She called. "Danny!" She pushed by more people. "Dan-" A hand grabbing her arm silences her and she follows the arm to see a boy. Brown hair, familiar blue eyes. The fog machine turns on making the visibility even lower. "Who are you?" It comes out quieter than she meant it to be, yet he seems to hear her over the cacophony of the club as he smiles. He tugged her forward so that she was inches from his face and she looked at him with wide eyes. His form began to flicker, like two images switching back and forth. Between the boy and Peter Hale.

"It's almost time, little witch." He said.

She gasped and jerked away from him, ripping her arm from his grasp as she stumbled back. She yelped in surprise when she bumped into someone, whipping around to find Danny. "Y/n? What are you doing here?"

She pushed away the shock from her encounter a moment before, forcing herself to focus on the present danger. "Danny, we need to get out of here, now!"

"What? What are you talking about?" He asks, confused. The kanima is now walking through the crowd, using the fog to keep cover. He swipes at people as he goes forward, paralyzing people left and right. People scream and start running around, trying to get away. Y/n hears the whistle through the air behind her and she turns around, yet the kanima is already gone. She turns back and Danny is on the ground paralyzed.

"Jackson!" Scott calls. Derek appears, wolfed out and ready. The kanima screeches. "No, don't!" Derek ignores him as he digs his claws into the kanima's body, he screeches in pain. The crowd realizes that people are on the ground and back up as some check on them.

"Y/n!" Stiles calls and she turns to find him just behind her. "Your neck. It's just like when Derek was cut at the pool."

She furrows her brows and reaches up to the back of her neck, feeling the sleek cut there. "But I feel fine. I'm not paralyzed."

He shakes his head. "We'll figure it out later. We need to find Scott." She nods and follows him out of the club where he saw Scott leave. They run out and follow a trail of blood to Scott kneeling over a bloody Jackson who has shifted back to his normal form and is stark naked.

"What do we do with him now?" Scott asks. The answer to that is to carry him back to the Jeep and lay him in the back, throwing a blanket over his lower body. Scott went to check on Danny as he's wheeled out on a gurney by EMT's. When they start getting in the car Y/n tries getting in the back only for Stiles to stop her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?"

"Getting in the back?" She responded unsure.

"No. You're not getting in the back with Jackson who tried to paralyze you! And is naked, by the way."

Y/n rolled her eyes while Scott gave her a confused look. "You got cut?"

"I guess so." She turned so Scott could see the cut. "But as you can see, I'm fine. I guess being a witch means not only does an Alpha's bite not affect me, but I'm immune to kanima venom."

"Besides the point." Stiles cut in. "Y/n is not sitting back there with him."

"Oh, my God. Fine. Scott, get in the back." Scott sighed, but did as asked. Y/n climbed into the passenger seat after him.

"I couldn't get anything out of Danny." Scott then informs.

"Okay, can we just get the hell outta here now, before one of my dad's Deputies sees me?" They nod in agreement and Stiles turns on the Jeep ready to drive, but Noah pulls up in front of them in his cruiser a moment later. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God! Could this get any worse?" Jackson groans then. "That was rhetorical!" Stiles yells back at him.

"Get rid of him." Scott says.

"Get rid of him? We're at a crime scene, and he's the Sheriff."

"Do something."

Stiles groans and flails his arms in frustration before climbing out to meet his dad half way. "Hey." He greets.

Jackson stirs and groggily starts to sit up. "What's- what's going on?" He mumbles.

"Jackson, Jackson, be quiet." Scott coaxes him back down.

"What're you doing here?" Noah asks his son.

"What do you mean what am I doing here? What? It's a club. It's a club, we were clubbing, you know? At the club."

"Stop saying club." Y/n says to herself as she listens to Stiles ramble.

Noah looks back at the building. "Not exactly your type of club."

"Uh... Well, dad... There's a conversation that we-"

"You're not gay." Noah quickly shuts that down.

"Wha- I could be!" Stiles says mildly offended.

"Not dressed like that."

"Well, what's-" He glances down at his clothes.

"And not with the way you dote over Y/n."

His head shoots up then. "Wha- I don't. I don't dote on- on her." He denies, Y/n and Scott smirk at each other when they hear the uptick signaling Stiles' lie. Noah goes to move towards the Jeep but Stiles stops him. "Uh..."

Jackson moans sleepily as he picks up his head again. "Jackson, be quiet." Scott pleads. Jackson sighs and lays his head down.

"This is the second crime scene that you just happened to have shown up on. And at this point, I've been fed so many lies, I'm not sure I know the kid standing in front of me. Now, what the hell is going on?" Noah demands of his son.

"What's happening?" Jackson starts to sit up again.

Y/n huffs a frustrated breath before turning to face him. "Jackson." Her firm voice makes him look in her eyes which glow. "Sleep." Her eyes flash, the color reflecting in his eyes and he falls back again unconscious. She turns back front just as the Stilinski's look over. Her and Scott smile and wave at them.

"Dad, I- I-" Stiles starts to try to explain.

"The truth, Stiles." Noah looks at him firmly.

He sighs. "The truth, all right. Well, the truth is that we were here with Danny. Yeah, 'cause he just broke up with his boyfriend, so, you know, we were just trying to take him out and get his mind off things. That's- that's it."

Noah is silent for a moment and then nods as his expression visibly softens. "Well, that's really good of you guys." Stiles smiles a little. "You're good friends." Stiles smiles more and gives him a pat on the arm before going back to the Jeep and driving away from there.

They speed down the road trying to figure out where to keep Jackson. "Uh, what about your house?" Stiles says to Scott.

"Not with my mom there. We need to take him somewhere where we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him. Or long enough to convince him he's dangerous."

"I still say we just kill him."

"We're not killing him." Y/n and Scott chorus.

"God! Okay, okay. I got an idea."

"Is this idea illegal?" She asks.

"By now, don't you think that's a given?"

"Stiles." She groans.

"Well, we don't have anything better right now." She sits back with a huff knowing he's right.

It's daylight when Jackson stirs awake and lifts his head only to hit it on something metal, the suddeness of it enough to fully wake him. He quickly glances around and finds he's in a metal compartment and he's cuffed by the wrists and ankles to the floor. He huffs angrily. "STILES! MCCALL! Y/N!" The three look at the police prison transport vehicle that Stiles commandeered and they parked in the middle of the woods as Jackson yells from inside. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU!"

…

While Stiles stayed with Jackson, trying to convince him he's the dangerous kanima, Y/n and Scott go to school to keep up appearances. Scott, Y/n, and Allison had a class together and Allison tried to take the chance to tell him that her grandfather was asking a bunch of questions and about the new cameras being put up, but a new teacher coming in made her shut her mouth.

"I'm afraid your teacher was feeling ill today, and had to leave early." Victoria Argent said as she made her way to the desk. "So, unfortunately, you're stuck with me as a substitute." She glanced at her daughter before turning to the rest of the class. "Can anyone catch me up to speed on where we are?" She turned to Scott. "Mr. McCall, how 'bout you?" Scott cleared his throat as he pulled out the proper books. For the rest of the class Y/n stayed silent and reserved, something that's become second nature when dealing with strangers and dangers.

After school Allison went with Y/n to Stiles while Scott went to check on Danny and try to figure out why Janima tried to kill him. Stiles was leaning against the transport truck using Jackson's phone pretending to be him to eliminate suspicion. Rustling made him look up and to the right, trying to figure out what the sound was. When he looked left he jumped back with an "oh, my God" at seeing the two girls.

"They know." Allison blurted.

"What?" He asked.

"They know Jackson's missing."

"No, they can't. I've been texting his parents since last night. They don't have a clue."

"My grandfather told me his parents went to the police. They know."

Y/n looked pointedly at the phone and Stiles held it up by two fingers as if it suddenly became volatile. He handed the phone to Allison and ran to the door where he practically dove in to turn on the police radio.

"All available units proceed to Beacon Hills Preserve as instructed. Proceed with caution until Sheriff Stilinski's arrival." He looked at the girls with wide eyes. "Repeat: proceed with caution."

The three climbed into the front seat. "Where are we going?" Y/n asked.

"Somewhere very far from this." He dialed a number on the phone and tossed it out the window before speeding off. Not long after Scott came back with his findings.

"If Jackson doesn't remember being the kanima, he's definitely not gonna remember stealing Danny's tablet." He said as the four walked a distance from the truck.

"Why would he steal the thing if he doesn't even know what's on it?" Stiles asked.

"What if someone else took it?" Allison offered.

"Then somebody else knows what he is."

"Which could mean someone's protecting him." Scott said.

"Like the bestiary says, 'the kanima seeks a friend,' right?" Allison asks.

"Okay, hold on. So, somebody watches Jackson make a video of himself turning into the kanima, and then just erases part of it so he wouldn't know? I mean, who would do that?" Stiles wondered.

"Somebody who wanted to protect him?" Y/n guessed.

"There's something else. You said the only thing you found online about the kanima is that it goes after murderers. What if that's actually true?" Scott asked Stiles.

"Well, no, it can't be. Tried to kill all of us, remember? I don't know about you three, but I haven't murderered anybody lately."

"Well, I- I don't think that it was actually trying to kill us. Remember when we were at Isaac's the first time, it just went right by us, didn't it?" Scott asked Allison and she nodded.

"You're right, it just ran off."

"And it didn't kill you in the mechanic's garage." He turned to Stiles.

"Well, yeah, but it tried to kill me and Derek in the pool."

"Did it?"

"It would've. It was waiting for us to come out. Y/n had to do her magic thing to keep it back."

"What if it was trying to keep you in?"

"Why do I feel so violated all of a sudden?"

"Because there's something else going on. We don't know what it is. We don't know anything about what's going on with Jackson, or why someone's protecting him."

"'Know thy enemy'." The three looked at Allison. "Just something my grandfather said." She brushed off.

"All right, I got it. Kill Jackson. Problem solved." Stiles said.

"We're not killing him, all right?" Y/n said firmly.

"He risked his life for us. Against Peter, you remember that?" Scott reminded Stiles.

"Yes, but what did we just find out? He got the Bite from Derek. It's funny how he just got exactly what he wanted by supposedly risking his life for us, it's funny."

"It doesn't mean he isn't worth saving." Y/n sighed. "I'm not gonna be the first to sing any praises about the guy, but Lydia sees something in him, and if she thinks he's got at least a sliver of humanity in him, I'm gonna help."

"It's always something with him, though."

"He doesn't even know what he's doing."

"So what?"

"So, I didn't either." Scott defended. "You remember when I almost killed you and Jackson?" He directed to Allison. "I had someone to stop me. He has nobody."

"That's his own fault."

"Doesn't matter. If we can save him, we should try."

…

When night fell Allison got her car so she and Scott could sit together as they watched Jackson while Y/n and Stiles went back to her house to try and possibly find something she missed in her grimoire. Y/n groans and flops back on her bed, letting her grimoire fall onto the mattress. "There's literally nothing that makes sense or gives clear answers." She complained. "When I write my pages, I'm gonna make them comprehensible with no secret meanings whatsoever so that my decendants are not as confused as my ancestors have made me."

"Your pages?" Stiles asks curiously from beside her.

"Yes, my pages. The ones I'll write when I learn something new that isn't already in my grimoire."

"Is that what's in it? Pages written by your ancestors you said?"

She sat up with a nod. "Everything they knew they put in here." She held the grimoire up in show.

"I remember you said you made this?"

"So full of questions, aren't we?" She teased with a half smile before nodding again. "I did. It's a sort of coming of age ritual for my kind. When a witch turns 13 she makes her own grimoire and fills it with the knowledge of her mother's or an older witch's own grimoire, adding to it if they ever find something new. It's a very personal item. Each one is made exactly the way the witch wants, from the embellishments on the outside to how many pages in a signature are on the inside." As she explained this she had a soft smile on her face, lightly tracing the shapes on the cover of her grimoire. "We're so connected with our grimoire that when we die, after its contents have been passed on, it's burned with us as like a final goodbye, a final release from the physical plane."

She looked up at him to find him already looking at her with eyes filled with wonder and curiosity. "You keep saying 'she'. Are witches only women? Are there no male witches?"

She shook her head. "No, there are no male witches. It's all female. If a witch has a son and daughter, only the daughter will inherit the gifts. A witch's son has never inherited the gifts nor has the children of a witch's son. For example, if, say, me and you had a daughter, she'd be like me, a witch. And if we had a son, he'd be like you, human." Stiles seemed flustered at the idea while Y/n smiled warmly. She looked back down at her grimoire then, her smile fading as she sighed a bit. "How nice it must be to be human." Her tone was quiet and wistful.

"What do you mean?"

"If I was human I wouldn't have to worry about hiding my magic. I wouldn't have to keep a mental map of all the new cameras in school. I wouldn't have to look over my shoulder for a Hunter discovering me. I could just be a normal teenager with normal problems like how much I'll have to study for midterms or what should I wear to impress my boyfriend." She shook her head with a small huff of laughter.

"Y/n. I wouldn't change a thing about you. Even the magic part." She looked up at him in mild surprise. "What you can do is incredible. I'm literally blown away every time I see you do something. It's just another reason to love you. And... And I do. Love you, I mean."

"You love me?"

He nodded. "And you don't have to say it back, I know it's a big thing and-" Already sensing needless rambling she cut him off.

"Stiles."

"Yes?"

"Shut up." She leaned forward then and kissed him. He instantly reciprocated. Every kiss they shared was like the first, it was electrifying and sent sparks through her whole body. Something in the air shifted when he brought his hand up to the back of her head to pull her closer, letting the other trail to her waist. His fingers traced mindless patterns on the bit of skin that was exposed from where her shirt raised slightly. It left her breathless and nearly dizzy with desire. She pulled away for a moment and rested her forehead on his. "I love you." She breathed.

His smile was brighter than the sun before he went in to kiss her again. These kisses were more heated and almost desperate to show how much those three words meant to the other, and they did. Giving everything one could in intimate moments such as these. Moments where every kiss, every touch, every sigh and moan said 'I love you'. Moments where the lights have faded to silvery darkness, but there's no need to see with their eyes. Not when they know this person like the back of their hand, where they know every curve and angle. Not when they're committing every touch to memory. The new feelings and new places they're exploring of each other, with each other. Even when the fire of desire dwindled to embers of satisfaction, and they were snuggled together and dozing under the sheets, these moments also held whispers of those eight letters.

…

It was dark outside, late at night, when Y/n stirred in her sleep. She suddenly sat up with a gasp, her hand clutching the sheets to her chest. Stiles woke up at the sudden movement and when he saw her distressed state he sat up as well. "Y/n? Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "Something's wrong." She quickly started to get dressed, tossing his clothes to him as she went.

"What is it?" He also started to dress.

"I don't know, just something's happened." She couldn't explain it but she could feel it in her gut, and she's learned to listen to it. He didn't ask questions as he dressed as well, he trusted what she said. They got in the Jeep and she directed them to the Preserve where they found an empty police transport vehicle. Jackson had gotten out.

They went over to Allison's car where she and Scott were asleep in the back. Stiles knocked on the window startling them awake. "You guys might wanna come take a look at this." He said. After a moment the couple got out and the four went to the truck.

"I have to tell my father." Allison said. Scott walked a bit away, thinking. "Scott. He's going to kill someone."

"Okay, tell him." Scott agreed. "Tell him everything."

"Scott, I gotta tell mine too." Stiles said.

"This is all my fault."

"It's not." Allison shook her head. "But we have to tell them. We're just a bunch of teenagers. We can't handle this."

"You're right."

"How are you gonna make your dad believe all this?" She asked Stiles.

"I don't know."

Scott turned to look at them, his eyes glowing yellow. "He'll believe me."

Y/n sighed. She figured the parents would have to be clued in at some point, she just hoped it didn't have to involve her. Deep down she knew it would. "And me too."

"Are you sure?" Stiles looked at her in concern.

She nodded. "It's hard to dispute two supernaturals." Her own eyes flashed purple to prove her point. To protect those I care about, I'm willing to do anything.

Allison went home while Scott, Y/n and Stiles went to the Sheriff's station to talk to Noah. "Could you buzz us in? I gotta see my dad." Stiles asked the officer at the front desk. The man did as asked and Stiles opened the door. He hesitated going in.

Y/n took his hand and he looked at her. "It's gonna be okay." She reassured him. He gave her a nod before turning and walking towards the office. They all paused, however, when they saw Jackson on the couch in Noah's office, Mr. Whittemore standing near him. Jackson smiled at them when he saw them.

"Scott, Stiles, Y/n." Noah stepped into view. "Perfect timing. Have you met Jackson's father, Mr. David Whittemore? Esquire."

"That means lawyer." Jackson spoke up. The three glanced at each other.

Ch.19

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basiabd · 8 months

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Ayy leprechaun oc’s. They are similar to the felt (homestuck) but instead of being based around billiard balls they are based around the flowers of the months. They also each have their own ability/juju and their lives are connected to their corresponding flowers.

Long explanation below :D

Carvy- He is based around the carnation which is Januarys flower. His ability is referred to as “monster” which inclines that he has a monster form. This monster form only takes place during moments of strong angry or rage. For Carvy this is simple because he is quick to anger, however his ability may sound cool but it’s very painful for him. During the transformation into monster Carvy it breaks his bones and pushes them outwards to make a sort of spike shield. Once his anger has run out his bones fix and pop back into place, but it makes him sick afterwards.

Vio/Lito- Vio and Lito are twins and they’re both based around the Violet. Which is Februarys flower. They no longer have an ability but at one point is was labeled as “division” meaning they can spilt their molecules apart to make an identical version of themselves. However after an accident they can no longer use it. Now being referred to as the gunners. As now they only use weapons.

Daffon- He is based around the daffodil which is marchs flower. His ability is referred to as sticky which is pretty self explanatory. He’s palms as well as the soles of his feet have sticky pads that can hold onto any surface. He is also pretty quiet which make it easier to sneak up on people.

Dulce- He is based around the sweet pea which is April’s flower. His ability is referred to as “poison” which is also self explanatory. As it suggests dulce secretes poison from his skin. But that’s not all because most of the liquid in his body contains poison. His blood, tears and spit all contain poison. At the start he did feel discomfort from the poison in his body. But over time he grew use to it.

Garder- He is based around an hawthorn which is mays flower. He doesn’t have an ability because he doesn’t need one. He’s the gang’s gardener and doctor. He’s very skilled in many things such as sewing, brewing, cooking, and combat. He usually has a dead tone attitude and tone but he means well.

Rono- He’s based around an rose which Junes flower. His ability is referred to as thorn. Which makes thorns in his skin as a type of defense mechanism. He acts very flamboyant and is close friends with lilino.

Lilino- He’s based around an lily pad which is July’s flower. His ability is called wave. Which makes it to where he can move his body in ways a normal individual couldn’t do. It’s a flowing motion kinda like water.

Pip- He’s based around an poppy which is august flower. His ability is only referred to as pop which can kinda be deceiving. He cannot make big explosions but only tiny ones which doesn’t do a whole lot of damage. But he does make bombs on his own. (After learning from garder)

Amotise- She’s based around an aster which is Septembers flower. She doesn’t have an ability. She has 3 prosthetics, two legs and an arm. The arm can shot out stings that are extremely hard to break and can leave individuals trapped for a long while. Though the strings can be broken in a certain way that only she and the other members know.

Majorno- He’s based around an marigold which is October’s flower. His ability is called ghost which is pretty self explanatory on what it does. But, to put it in a simple way he has the ability to speak to the dead. He also has a wide respect to the dead which makes him more in touch with his ability.

Pilino- He’s based around an peony which is Novembers flower. His ability is called chameleon which once again is pretty self explanatory. But, it means he can blend in with his surroundings extremely well. As if he just turned invisible.

Hollver- He’s based around holly which is Decembers flower. He has both an ability and juju. His juju being used the most. His juju are bells that have the flowers of the other members on the. Once he rings one he swaps places with the corresponding member. His ability however is called frost. Which may be self explanatory but it means whenever they touch something with their bare hands it immediately freezes into ice.

That will conclude may little Oc rant. But be warned I may change things over time.

#homestuck #art #carapacian oc #leprechaun oc #artists on tumblr #drawing #the greenhouse crew

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klonoadreams · 1 year

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Sawyer omg. Is she gonna be ok? Is she just staying w juniper until she goes on her journey?

She's sticking with Juniper until she goes on her journey since she doesn't have anywhere else to go and while confused about it (because she doesn't know), her anxiety keeps spiking the longer she sticks around adult-adults, so while she sticks around, it's not for too long (given her Team Plasma upbringing, can you blame her despite the safety???)

(It was not a happy upbringing, there's a reason she ended up in the pinwheel forest and got poisoned, and it's because she walked off without any Pokemon)

(you better believe she's effectively on the run, so every Team Plasma encounter is a lot more dire to her, versus someone like Touya)

btw I know I said no twins, but despite it all, Sawyer still DOES have resemblance to Touko/Hilda, and to Touya/Hilbert, it makes him do a few double takes at a time, because Sawyer looks eerily like his mom - and maybe a bit like himself, save the tanner skin tone

so make what you will of that, and the fact that even though most people would disown someone like her, Sawyer still has to avoid Team Plasma...

Also fun fact: due to my decade's worth of worldbuilding, the one thing that remained of my weird writing quirks is that Professor Juniper is the BW/BW2 player's aunt (the moms are twins - because they look alike, and then gave birth to twins as well - that's what I mean by weird quirks that I will die on this hill for), and Alder is actually the BW Player's father - he's just absent often because of work and because he likes to travel (this played into some sort of sensitivity I gave Touya to being called a bastard, but whether or not this sticks in this is up to chance)

(N is legitimately the only one Sawyer can kinda trust, because he REALLY doesn't know her, since she was raised separated from him while in Team Plasma. So their interactions are very genuine, and he really does care for her wellbeing after seeing her get hurt so many times)

(this is actually pretty funny, given N Harmonia's tendency to get hurt in the Pokemon Anime)

(can only imagine what it'd be like for him when he realizes that it goes further into it when Ghetsis likely spills the beans on her. But like in retrospect, it helps N ease into the reality of his abusive childhood and the grooming he underwent by the one person he calls his father)

(by the by, due to the way I refuse to believe that these two AREN"T related by blood due to their physical similarities since Ghetsis is apparently an foster/adoptive father. I like to think Ghetsis genuinely abandoned his own child to either die in a forest, or for an actual experiment - maybe even both. Either way, he came back, and grabbed this wild child who could communicate with Pokemon and decided to use him for his own needs)

Anyways the adults that Sawyer can 100% trust without severe anxiety spikes in Touya's Mom and maaaybe Alder, because he actually coaxed her into a sense of security, which carried over to the Elite Four (since he gave them a heads up on one of their challengers)

N doesn't trigger this because he's barely sixteen to Sawyer's 14 (and by extension, Touya, Cheren, and Bianca), and even then, he's so stunted, that he comes off even younger than usual - none of which is his own fault, but rather a severe consequence to his upbringing, which made him so susceptible to Ghetsis and Team Plasma's grooming. Time will pass during this situation, given that I do like to show the effect that Team Plasma has had on Unova, and why Ghetsis was as dangerous as he was, given how LONG he planned all of this. But also, we need some quality healing times for N and Sawyer's abusive childhood bonding times. :V

We got like a minimum of two years for Sawyer's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Pokemon Journey. after all, it isn't just the Pokemon she has to worry about. :V

#ask #pokemon #pokemon black and white #n harmonia #with friends like these (fanfic)#sawyer (oc)#feel free to ask me about sawyer #she is currently cooking with other ocs

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ficticity · 8 months

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SHOOT

warning: this story may contain content not suitable for all readers. discretion is advised.

ENTRY #3: Katherine Jung

SNEAKING AROUND THE LOCKER ROOM CAN RESULT IN A TWENTY-DAY SUSPENSION.

Not just any locker room. The girl's locker room. Luckily for me, there are only two weeks of school left and suspension is nearly impossible. This is not to say I'm the first boy to pull this stunt, but I'm going to be the first to fail.

Katherine Jung–everyone calls her Kat–is an old classmate of mine. I met her on our first day of grade three when two young boys thought they could get a good laugh by teasing her about the shape of her eyes.

Making degrading comments that no third graders should have known to make.

Can you see me?

Why are you always squinting?

You're pretty stupid for an Asian girl.

Can't you talk like everyone else?

Unlike all the other children, I found her eyes beautiful. They were dark. Black. Edgy. A galaxy forming within a body. So I didn't walk away like the others. I remember offering her my hand when she cried behind the rock circle and doing what all children did to signify the start of a new friendship.

I gave her one of my mother's homemade chocolate chip cookies at recess.

Hence our story was born. Right up until it died along with her mother in sixth grade. Students stopped making comments. Teachers took pity. I didn't really do anything other than offer her an assortment of desserts.

Kat never spoke to me after the entire ordeal and I let her be. I found Ryder in high school after all.

We kept our contact to a minimum. Some unspoken mutual agreement that I now plan to break after nine long years.

I can feel the weight of the Swiss Army Knife in the back pocket of my jeans, almost as heavy as the burden on my chest. I wait patiently for Kat to round the corner and head for the door. I'll act and plunge the weapon into her throat.

Easy.

"I swear Mr. Goldstein only teaches girl's gym so he can creep on us. Did you see the way he was talking to Shayla today?"

I must have miscalculated, Kat isn't alone. Her comment rouses snickers and giggles from one other girl. An all too recognizable sound that I somehow can't place.

"You should have seen the look on his face when her boyfriend walked in at the end of class," she goes on, "all like Oh my God, I totally wasn't creeping on your girl."

I take a chance and crane my head out to the side, stealing a glance at the two females. I catch sight of Kat's waterfall of jet-black hair and that's about it. She has her back to me and keeps the other from view.

"Goldstein's not so bad. He's a nice guy."

"That's what he wants you to think, Darcy. I don't think teachers are supposed to point out that there's a button loose on your shirt. Like, why was he looking there?"

Darcy again. I now understand why her laughter resonated in a way nobody else's does. "You're overthinking things, Kat. Goldstein doesn't mean anything by it, I can guarantee you."

I can guarantee she has a smile on her face and a glimmer in her hazel eyes.

The thought of running the knife along her skin brings a gentle flush to my cheeks again and a spike in my heart rate.

A locker is pushed shut and their footsteps echo against the walls, which are much less grimy than the boys' locker room walls. I force myself to cease breathing as they walk by the set of lockers I press myself against. This is my chance. I can take them both now. Two kills in one day. More than I have ever accomplished.

But as quickly as Darcy brushes by, my courage dissipates and my plan unravels. I'm struck with a spell of paralysis. If there's a way to describe how tremendously overwhelmed I feel, I would spit out a few words. Though my mouth is sealed shut and won't act on my command.

"God, Monty! You scared me!"

Between the warmth in my face and the knotting of my intestines, my brain is unable to carry out its simple logical function.

"Oh, Monty." Kat spits my name out like poison. To think I once shared all my cookies with her and risked being diagnosed with cooties just to make her feel better about herself. "What the hell are you doing in the girls' locker room, Jack?"

It's easier to stare at Darcy as I explain myself. Her eyes aren't so cold. "Nothing in particular."

"You were sent here by the football team, weren't you?" Kat's question isn't a question. It's an outright accusation. "You think this shit is cool? Do you know how derogatory this act is?"

Darcy stands between us both and puts her hands out in front of Kat. "Guys, let's not get carried away." There's a tremor in her chuckle, which I don't quite understand.

I'm not scared, so why is she?

"You hang out with this pervert, Darcy?"

"He's not a pervert," her confidence is outmatched by Kat's hostility. "Monty isn't like the other boys."

"Trust me, I know him. He's just like them. They're all screwed up in the fucking brain," she pauses momentarily as her eyes sweep over my face. I remain as stoic as possible despite the growing urge to wrap my hands around her neck until I hear the satisfying snapping of bone.

I know exactly what she's on about and sometimes I think back to that day too. Junior year, Kat and the varsity football team at the spring formal, and watching them mess around with a bunch of freshman girls. And Kat. I watched it happen to her too. I never said anything about it because that was what boys just did...it was what I almost did when I was drunk that night. I knew it was wrong in my small, withering heart. Ryder talked me out of it though. It's another reason why friends like him are so rare to stumble across. Unfortunately, the risque photos of her still floated around the school until the principal threatened police action.

"Wait, Kat–"

"I'm out, Darcy. You can let him look up your skirt if you'd like, but I don't work like that."

She saunters away, and the only sound rippling through the crackling air is the slamming of the locker room door. My gaze shifts to the only girl in the room, wondering why I haven't killed her yet.

"So, are you gonna let me?" I ask.

Darcy's gaze flits over to me. "Let you do what?"

"Look up your skirt."

A blush of hot roses bursts out on her face. "I-I...uh, that's really..."

I snort and fold my arms across my chest. "I don't actually mean it. You seriously think I'd do something like that without your permission?"

"It's a weird thing to ask permission for," she offers me a shaky smile. "I've never gotten that one before. I don't think most girls do. You're so...odd."

"Only on my better days."

Darcy nods and scrutinizes me like there's a mystery to be solved. "Sorry about Kat," she says. "She didn't mean it. She's just, y'know, Kat."

My lips are still glued shut. Darcy runs her slim fingers through her hair and I'm forced to ask how they can glide so smoothly. It must feel as soft as summer rain. Even softer.

"I've been meaning to ask you a question, Monty," she smiles, perfect lips over perfect teeth. If my facial muscles can work as well as everyone else's, I might give this smiling bit a chance.

"Do you want to go out with me this Friday?"

Go out. Foreign words. I don't get it.

"I'm confused," I say, raising a brow. "Go out? As in outside with you? We do that every day."

Darcy bursts into a wave of shy giggles and I notice her light brown skin start to redden. "No, not like that. Like, going out to spend time together. Just the both of us."

"A date, Darcy?"

My parents still go on those sometimes. They come home happy and absolutely separate from reality, sometimes I think there's an inside joke to these dates that I'm not in on. Which frustrates me. Maybe I'll figure it out with Darcy. That doesn't sound so terrible.

"Yeah, sure. A date."

"The guy usually asks first." I point out, shoving my hands in the pocket of my jeans and resting one shoulder against the locker. "You didn't give me a chance."

"Oh, sorry." Darcy laughs. "Do you want to ask?"

It seems socially conventional for me to do so. "Darcy," I start, trying to keep my voice steady. "Do you want to go on a date with me this Friday?"

"I'd love to, Monty." There's the crinkling of her dimples again, and the softness of the two syllables of my name. Well, not my name name. But my name.

"Seven." I stand upright and lift my shoulder in a shrug. "I'll pick you up."

"Sounds perfect."

"And maybe you'll let me look up your skirt afterward."

"Not a chance, Jackson." Amusement flecks her hazel eyes. "But I'll see you Friday."

I pat her head twice and turn to leave. Surprisingly, she doesn't follow me this time, so I let the door slam shut.

◣━━━━━━━━━━━◢

Thank you for reading this chapter of Shoot!

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#female writers #my writing #writers on tumblr #writing blog #creative writing #fiction #romance #writers #writing #love story #high school #writing life #teen fiction #sad stories #writers community #writers and poets #writeblr #author

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nomorebirdsblog · 1 year

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Why bird spikes are a much better way to get rid of birds

Even though birds are usually nice, they can be very annoying at times, to the point where they become a real problem. There are some easy ways to deal with this problem now. Bird spikes are the most common of these. This simple but very effective device has spikes sticking out of the top of the object you want to keep birds away from. This keeps birds from landing on the object and makes it a place they don't want to be. Most of the time, the spikes are installed so that they don't change the look of the thing they're used on, or if they do, it's in a way that doesn't hurt your business.

Just keep in mind that all of this is true as long as you buy your bird spikes from a good company. Good companies that sell bird spikes understand these concerns and make their products with the safety of birds in mind. Before you buy anything from the company, talk to them and ask if their spikes are humane. A good company will be able to tell you in detail how their spikes won't hurt the birds that are always bothering you.

Last but not least, before putting up bird spikes, some people worry about how to keep them in good shape. You may be wondering the same thing. In general, how much work do these things need? Not much at all is the answer. You'll only need to clean them lightly every few weeks or so. Good bird spikes are made of tough, durable materials that don't wear out easily. This means that rain, wind, and other natural forces won't easily damage them, and it will be a long time before you see any wear and tear from long-term use. Even then, they're easy to replace, and most companies will do it for you at a discount. This means you can enjoy your bird-free operations for a long time without worrying about spikes. You are advised to get in touch with the professionals for Bird Control Solutions.

How to Get Rid of Birds That Bug You

Why try to get rid of birds?

Buildings are getting a lot of damage from pigeons and other birds. Bird droppings are a great place for moulds to grow and can even break down hard stones. When water freezes in these small holes, it can cause damage called "frost shattering." Pigeon droppings have ammonia in them, which can damage sandstone, stucco, anodized metal, and even asphalt. Diseases can also be spread by pigeons (food poisoning, diarrhea, pneumonia, encephalitis, etc.). Ticks, fleas, and bird mites are also spread by them. Cryptococcus neoformans is a dangerous fungus that grows well in bird poop. It is especially dangerous for people with weak immune systems.

Why do birds always come to my house?

Birds are interested in your house because:

Food: The birds find that food is most likely to be in a certain area.

Reproduction: The birds use the area to build their nests, especially if it is safe from bad weather and animals that want to eat them.

How dangerous are pigeon droppings?

Because of the bacteria, viruses, and parasites in pigeon droppings, they should not be eaten. Humans can get sick or get parasites from being exposed to the air, on their skin, or in other ways. Because of this, only a professional should clean up pigeon poop and disinfect the area.

Here are a few ways to get rid of birds.

Spikes that are either made of plastic or stainless steel.

Different versions are made for different birds and use.

Ultrasound machines that use sound pressure, which is always released, are called transducers.

Electrical systems where the bird gets a painful but harmless electric shock, which it spreads without getting used to it. The electric fence principle is how current pulse systems work. Electrical systems are one of the best ways to protect yourself.

How to Keep Birds Out of Pools

Pools are especially appealing to birds that live in warmer places because they can drink or bathe in them. Not only does the water in the pool get dirty, but so do the edges of the pool. Canopies, slat blinds and covers, floating films, and safety nets are some ways to solve this problem. These things also keep other animals from getting into your pool.

What can I do about birds that are protected?

If the birds are protected in some way, you can't fight them directly. So, to stop colonisation, steps must be taken to stop it from happening.

What should we do after the birds are gone?

After you get rid of the birds, you should clean the area with chemicals and heat to keep unwanted or even disease-causing microorganisms, bacteria, and parasites from taking up residence. Only licenced contractors should be able to do the disinfecting. You can get in touch with our team for Bird Control Solutions.

Disclaimer: This is generic Information & post; content about the services can be changed from time to time as per your requirements and contract. To get the latest and updated information, contact us today or visit our website.

#bird control

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alsmp-headcanons · 2 years

Text

My dragon boys brainrot! Readmore for spoilers :]

- Joel’s poison breath causes horrible blisters and warts to appear on the skin of whatever it touches, and if it hits water it tends to make it similar to acid

- Combining Joel’s poison and Jimmy’s fire can have two results, one being an extremely painful death from burns and poison getting in through said burns or it just immediately explodes upon contact with each other

- Joel’s dragon features are a lot more smooth, with wispy spines running along his back and only small spikes going down his tail, while Jimmy is more similar to that of a western dragon with sharper horns and spines

- This has resulted in a few hugs being a bit painful as Jimmy mistakenly pokes Joel, perhaps he has a few small scars from this

- They don’t let people touch their chest a lot, their backs are covered in strong plating that protects them from any attacks but their chest area is soft and vulnerable.

- Whenever they lay against each other or cuddle, their spines, wings and tails get caught up with each other and they get stuck. Meaning they have to sit there until someone stumbles across them and helps them untangle their appendages (It’s usually Lizzie)

- They dug out an entire mountain inside to fill with treasures that they find. There is a ridiculous amount of gold and other precious gems in there and they do gift it to people quite a bit

- You can kinda bribe them with gold to do stuff, it’s their favorite thing. They do not like this though

- Jimmy has quite a good internal flame and does a lot of breathing exercises to strengthen said flame

- Both have scales that cover different parts of them like their elbows, knees, shoulders and cheeks

- Jimmy’s are red and Joel’s are a dark green or black

- Their eyes are similar to cats, as in they dilate if they get excited

- Running is a good idea if you see their eyes narrow at you as it’s a pretty good sign you are Gonna get poisoned or burned

- Both care a hell of a lot about Lizzie. Jimmy isn’t exactly sure why he feels so protective over her.

- Lauren once walked out of her house and found both of them staring at her. She ran back inside.

- They both have a strong hatred for the League of Villains

#wyvern joel #alsmp joel #alsmp smallishbeans #smallishbeans #dragon jimmy #alsmp jimmy solidarity #alsmp jimmy #jimmy solidarity #alsmp solidarity #alsmp

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ahsokryze · 2 years

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Ahhh yay! You're doing prompts!! How about "I felt fine this morning" with Obi-Wan and Anakin — up to you who felt fine in the morning ;)

so sorry for the delay… // from these prompts

“I felt fine this morning.”

(this was also requested by @delless03)

~ ~ ~

"Easy now," Obi-Wan soothed, rubbing a gentle hand over his former Padawan's back, who was, at the moment, currently hunched over the toilet bowl and dry-heaving painfully after vomiting up the entirety of his lunch all over the floor of his quarters. "I don't think you've got anything left."

With one last heave of air, a strangled gasp, Anakin let out a groan and slumped, dropping his head to rest on the toilet seat.

"You're all right," Obi-Wan murmured, still circling his hand over the young man's back. "Just breathe."

"I'm sorry," Anakin choked out, releasing a ragged breath.

"It's alright, Anakin. These things happen."

"Didn't... didn't mean to..."

"Hush. It's alright."

As he continued to rub soothing circles, Obi-Wan leaned closer to lightly brush back a few loose strands of Anakin’s hair away from his face, noticing that his current position looked rather uncomfortable, as well as feeling Anakin’s embarrassment emanating through the force.

"Why don't we get you a little more comfortable," he whispered.

With another miserable groan, Anakin lifted his head and shuffled back to meet the wall of the refresher, where he pulled his knees to his chest and let his head drop back, closing his eyes. Not exactly what Obi-Wan meant by "comfortable", but he supposed it would do for the moment.

Scooting back, Obi-Wan settled himself against the wall beside his poorly former apprentice. Like this, he could see the flush of Anakin's skin, the small droplets of sweat gathered on his brow.

"What do you think it is?" he asked quietly. Anakin let out a breath, and Obi-Wan reached to gently rub his shoulder with his thumb.

"Mmm... not sure," Anakin whispered.

"Do you think it's something you ate?" he suggested. "Come to think of it, we did have a rather extravagant breakfast this morning. Maybe Kix's Iced maple donuts didn't agree with your stomach."

"Please don't talk about food right now, Obi-Wan..."

"Right, sorry," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head, "Sorry."

Releasing a dejected sigh, Anakin dropped his head to lean against Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"I felt fine this morning," he mumbled.

"Mm, well," Obi-Wan said, "If you ate something bad this morning, you likely wouldn't have felt ill until later. Which would explain your recent... mishap."

Craning his neck to look down at Anakin's face, Obi-Wan felt a spike of embarrassment from the younger man.

"I really didn't mean for that to happen, Master," Anakin said with a whine. "I was trying not to... but I couldn't—"

"Anakin—It's fine. I already told you."

"But I—"

"Anakin,” he said. “Right now, all I care about is wether you're okay. You're not in trouble."

Falling quiet, Anakin shifted his head, burrowed closer into his neck.

"Still," he murmured, "'m sorry about the mess."

"All is forgiven, Anakin."

Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around Anakin's back and gently rubbed his shoulder, not missing the way he could feel him lightly trembling under his touch. After a moment, Anakin let out a groan, curling his arms around his stomach.

“This does seem like it’s probably food poisoning,” Obi-Wan whispered. Anakin gave a miserable hum.

“This sucks,” he mumbled.

“I know, dear one,” Obi-Wan said. He let his head gently rest on top of Anakin’s. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a long moment, before Obi-Wan whispered, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Anakin’s only response was a light hum. Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder.

“We can stay here for a little longer, or I can help you over to your bed,” he said. “What would you like to do?”

“Mm… bed,” came Anakin’s quiet response.

“All right. I’ll help you.”

~ ~ ~

#natalie writes #my fic #prompts #ani and obi #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #star wars the clone wars

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samplingmoonsters · 3 years

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What if Techno is like a walking heater cause he's from the Nether and Dream who's naturally cold??

Snow crunches under their feet, warm clouds of fog escaping frozen lips, evaporating quickly in the icy air like ghosts. Endless whiteness surrounds the pair, an empty canvas yearning for a splash of color. But there are no colors for miles, nothing but an abyss of white, except for the red cloak fluttering in the wind like the wings of a newborn bird. Not for the first time, olive green eyes find themself staring at the only interesting color since they started their never-ending journey through the north.

He stares at the broad back of the warrior, well aware of the muscles hidden behind the thick fabric. A hog-like snort escapes his companion as the tall warrior lets out a hot gust of wind. Dream’s tired, freezing body jerks at the loud noise. They haven’t spoken to each other for hours, only Dream’s exhausted breath and the snow crunching under their feet filling the silence around them.

Olive-green eyes widen and he stumbles back, almost falling into the snow, as Techno rams the end of his ax into the snow next to him. They stop in their tracks, finally giving the ex-prisoner’s body a precious second to rest after hours and hours of non-stop walking. Dream’s chest rises and falls in a mix of exhaustion and fear as he stares at Techno’s back. Even after spending weeks in a tiny cell together, building a relationship that doesn’t fit into any category but runs far deeper than simple friendship, Dream’s still gets nervous when he’s confronted with the view of a sharp object. A spike of anxiety settles into his chest, his fear rising the longer he has to look at the damn netherite ax sticking out of the snow.

He trusts Techno more than anyone else on the SMP but it is still hard to let go of old fears even after months of recovering in the Piglin's small cottage. Swallowing, Dream forces his body to relax and instead moves his eyes towards Techno’s face. Anything to distract himself from the weapon still glinting in the corner of his vision like a poisonous snake ready to strike.

At one point, Technoblade has turned towards him, ember eyes staring at the lanky blond, “We should search for a place to rest for tonight.” Techno murmurs before picking his ax back up, swinging it over his shoulder before walking straight towards the line of woods surrounding the snow-covered trail.

“Ah- wait for me!” Dream calls after the other man, small feet stamping through the snow like a newborn fawn who is just learning how to walk from their mother.

Away from the trail, the snow is even higher, reaching Dream’s knees and causing the blond to get stuck on multiple occasions. He has a hard time keeping up with the pink-haired man who doesn’t seem to have any problems navigating through the snowy landscape, his thick leather boots keeping him from sinking into the snow unlike Dream’s pathetic excuse of footwear which can’t even keep his feet decently warm. He can already feel his toes starting to freeze off. If this goes on he won’t have any feet to complain about coming tomorrow morning.

If it weren't for Techno's strong hands pulling him out every now and then Dream would be forever stuck in the middle of the woods.

"Be careful where you are stepping." Techno grunts after pulling Dream out of the snow for what must be the tenth time.

Dream grumbles a curse under his breath, patting the snow from the pants before throwing a dark glare at his companion, "I do! It's not my fault the snow is, like-- ten feet high!" He stomps his feet into the snow, his childish tantrum only resulting in him soaking his pants even more.

Dream could practically hear the other roll his eyes, "Don't be dramatic...it's not that deep." As if to prove his point Techno stomps one foot into the snow. The appendage barely sinks into the snow. But all too soon Techno’s attention is stolen away once more by the distant howls of wolves. The warrior grips his ax tightly, red eyes jumping around the trees, searching for any potential danger while he waits for Dream to stop sulking around so they could start moving forward again.

Dream lets out a huff, seemingly indifferent about the continuing howls. He knows that Techno will keep him safe, so he doesn’t even bother taking out the dagger hidden inside his dark-green coat. It’s not like he would be any good in a fight. Ever since they escaped the prison, Dream quickly realized that his hands would never be able to truly hold weapons of any kind anymore, not with how much they trembled and shook. He’s happy that he could hold a cup of tea without spilling hot liquid everywhere, and hey, he can even hold a spoon without too much of a hitch.

Small progress as Techno would say.

And maybe, with a lot of training and patience, he would even be able to hold an ax again one day.

Though, that dream is rather blurry for now. Let’s rather focus on re-learning how to use a knife and fork for the moment....or Techno would have to help him cut his steak forever and that’s just fucking embarrassing. He already feels like a helpless child 75% of the time when it comes to holding anything.

Which also includes not being able to walk on snow like his companion.

Fucking piglin hybrids and their natural ability to walk over loose ground.

"...that doesn't prove anything. You-you're used to walking through snow." Crossing his arms, Dream glares at a random patch of snow near Techno's left foot. Now that they have stopped moving, Dream can feel the unbearable coldness sinking into his already half-frozen skin. Dream hates to admit it, but he does have a low tolerance when it comes to low temperatures. All his life, he has lived in hotter regions, places where the sun never stops shining all year round, and where hurricanes and heavy storms are a monthly concurrence. But now, he's forced to live in a snowy biome, far away from the sun, where it never stops snowing and the nights are long.

Dream couldn't remember when he last felt truly warm. Even in the safety of Techno's beloved cottage, there's still something cold lingering in his chest, freezing his body from the inside...

Maybe that's just his trauma showing his ugly head... Nevertheless, Dream really missed lying among the flowers, grass tickling his cheeks while he let the sun heat up his body.

And while the prison had been warm, unbearable so, the warmth wasn't the same as the feeling of sun rays on his freckled skin.

Ender, when was the last time he had worn a crop top? Felt like a billion years ago. He couldn't even wear cute outfits in this shitty weather. Fucking Antarctica...

Yearning for an outlet for his building frustration, Dream angrily kicks a small pile of snow, accidentally spraying Techno's face with the powdery substance.

For a second the woods go deathly silent as if the trees themselves could feel the tension rising between the rivals. The two men stare at each other, a silent battle taking place. Techno's narrowed red eyes promise unbearable pain, causing Dream to fidget nervously.

If there is one thing Dream hates more than raw potatoes it's complete silence. He remembers a time when silence didn't bother him. A time when he could linger in his base far underground unbothered by the pure quietness surrounding him, even enjoying it. He was used to being alone, doing his own thing, a lone wolf some would call him, but after the whole prison thing...Dream began to hate the sound of his own voice, the silence that would linger after he screamed his lungs out either from hours of torture or talking nonstop to his own reflection in the lava.

Yeah, he would much rather listen to Techno's monotone voice for hours, all day long, if it means he wouldn't have to listen to his own scrambled thoughts.

"Uh...Tech--"

Before Dream could finish his sentence his feet suddenly left the ground as his tall, lanky body was raised from the snow. The blond squeezed his eyes tightly, expecting to be body slammed into the cold abyss for revenge but instead, he felt a pleasant warmth surrounding him from all sides.

Fluttering his eyes open he's met with the sight of Techno's broad chest. Jerking his head up he stares at the piglin but the other is ignoring him, red eyes stubbornly looking forward as they continue their way through the foggy woods. Green eyes focus on the warm puffs of air escaping Techno's pink lips, the way his sharp tusks glint in the faint light like hidden daggers, and how his red eyes seem to sparkle brighter than the ice crystals littering the ground. This close, Techno's beauty is almost otherworldly.

Truly the God of Bones and Blood.

And now the God is carrying him. Carrying him bridal style while curling his precious red cape around them both.

Dream's cheeks quickly catch on fire at the unexpected turn of events.

Forcing himself to relax, he leans his cheek against Techno's armored chest, almost jerking back in surprise at how warm the other feel even through the thick layer of metal.

Oh Gods, Techno is burning, a steady warmth spilling from him in waves like a dying star. With the cape curled around them, keeping the cold air away and trapping Techno's body heat, Dream feels like he's sitting in a furnace.

A very soft, grumpy furnace.

He almost forgot how warm Techno is. When they were still in prison Dream didn’t really notice Techno’s abnormal body heat. Back then everything, the air, the water, the obsidian blocks, was hot to the touch. Soon Techno’s body heat just turned into another source of heat in the already stuffy cell.

Now, Dream welcomed the warmth.

For what feels like the first time in months, Dream feels the coldness leaves his body.

Letting out a sound that comes close to a purr, Dream leans back against Techno's chest. With his cheek pressed against the other’s armored chest, he can clearly hear Techno's strong heartbeat. The steady sound pulls him into a placid state where each one of his problems and haunting memories leaves his mind for a little while until all he can feel is the vibration of Techno's heart and the strong hands holding him up.

Protecting him.

"Just so you know, if the wolves decide to attack us, I'm throwing you into the snow." Technoblade's monotone voice drifts through the blurry edges of his mind, almost throwing him out of his serene bubble.

Not wanting to leave the peaceful corner of his mind just yet, Dream cuddles deeper into Techno's chest, successfully ignoring the Piglin's warning.

Above him Techno let out a long, tired sigh, yet, the hands around his waist are pressing him closer, a silent promise to shield him from any upcoming danger.

With a small smile on his lips, Dream lets himself sink into the peaceful abyss, the sound of Techno's heartbeat guiding him. He falls asleep to the familiar lullaby of Techno’s heartbeat.

And so, far up in the north where the sun rarely shines and the snow never stops falling, the blond warrior found his own sun to warm up his broken soul.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for weeks! Sorry that it took me so long, dear anon! I hope you like it!

#dreamnoblade #technodream #anon ask #sammy's book club #1900 words #fanfic

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

Between Old Friends and New Lovers

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Vampire Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: blood, biting, mind control, but it’s all very minor.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

A/N: This is my first time making a header of sorts for my fics! I quite liked how this one turned out.

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

The manor was always cold. Not that you minded much, but sometimes the ever-present chill in the air drove away your guests. Again, you didn’t mind all too much. Guests were never your forte. But he, well. He was always different.

“Your Grace?” Your lady in waiting, Camille, came into your study, bowing her head down. “You have a visitor.”

“Is it his visiting day already?” You asked, checking your date book.

Camille nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. It is.”

You smiled, putting down your pen and moving from out behind your desk. “Thank you kindly Camille. Send him to the sitting room and inform him I shall be down momentarily.”

Camille left, and you hummed to yourself, straightening out your papers and setting your pen back down next to its respective inkwell. As you worked, you reminisced on the day you had met your favorite human being.

Two years prior

You sighed, listening to the rain slam against the windows as you worked on a few neglected pieces of paperwork. It was mostly finances, but it all had to be done, and so you were doing it. Tonight was supposed to be horribly rainy, with scattered thunderstorms and no sign of stopping until the sun rose. You didn’t mind. It made hunting harder, but you didn’t need to hunt for a while.

A sharp bolt of lightning lit up your study, and you finally shut your accounting book, deciding your work could wait until after the storm passed. You stood, pushing your chair back in. Office work was annoying at best. You’d much rather see people in person, share a cup of tea, and continue to build your reputation as the mysterious gothic Duke/Duchess who lived almost entirely alone. But paperwork, it seemed, was easier to send, and it meant most people could avoid your often intimidating presence.

“Camille!” You called through the manor, shutting and locking the study. “Camille?” Usually your lady in waiting was somewhere nearby, working on her own work within earshot. But now, you had to tune your hearing up past what was normal to hear Camille’s pattering heartbeat and nervous breaths. Why was Camille nervous? She’d been serving the manor for three years, she’d stopped being nervous in the old building last year.

“Camille!” You shouted, moving towards the sitting room she was inhabiting, worried for her safety. She should’ve alerted you immediately to a guest, and you were starting to grow concerned. Her heart rate spiked, only for a moment, and you heard her rushing footsteps coming towards you.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Camille asked, rounding the corner and looking up at you through her eyelashes. “You called?”

You nodded, dialing back your hearing so Camille’s close voice didn’t overwhelm you. “Have we got a visitor?”

Camille bowed her head, nodding slightly. “I was just setting him up in the sitting room,” she said quickly. “I was about to come get you as soon as he was settled.”

Smiling at the reassurance, you began to walk to the sitting room, where Camille had just come from. “Walk with me,” you said, and Camille hurried after you. “Is the man lost?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Camille said, walking a pace behind you. “He said his car broke down and he saw the manor. He asked for shelter from the storm.”

“How is he?” You asked, already envisioning the man settled in your sitting room. “Healthy?”

Camille nodded, her face going pale. “Yes, Your Grace,” she responded. “He’s young and seemingly in good health.”

The sitting room doors came into sight, and you smiled, turning to Camille. “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Camille responded, glancing at the ornate silver-backed mirror in the hall. Only she showed up, standing beside the silhouette of your clothes. You straightened your collar, running your fingers over the two neat lines of shining buttons before adjusting your gloves and pushing the sitting room door open.

Immediately, you noticed the smell. Deep and foreign, you had to dial your senses back further than you normally would to stand it. Leather and cologne and a deep internal lust mixed with the smell of the city. He was from New York City, you could practically taste it on him. He looked odd, but no odder than you, decked in all black and leather, every bit of metal on him glimmering in the low lamplight as he moved. You took a breath, but no silver. You were safe.

Looking the man up and down, you tried to silently determine whether he was one of you. You knew that the younger generation preferred to stay in cities, and called themselves goth in order to maintain the aesthetic. But despite his unique, timeless features, the man smelled organic and human, and you could hear his heart beating, a steady constant in the back of your hearing.

Your guest stood, and you smiled politely. “Welcome,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I apologize for not welcoming you to the manor myself.”

The man smirked, looking you up and down. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “Nice place.”

“Thank you.” You sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, crossing your legs and gesturing for your guest to sit beside you. “Family estate. Would you like a fire?” You noticed the man was wet, and you assumed he’d been caught in the storm.

“I wouldn’t mind one,” the man agreed, and you gestured Camille over.

“Camille, would you mind starting a fire?” You asked. “And when you’re done, I would love some tea.”

Camille nodded, exiting the room and leaving you alone with your guest.

“May I have your name?” You asked politely, turning your full attention to the man.

He nodded. “You can call me Dio.”

“Dio.” The name turned over like a fine wine on your tongue. “A bit of a presumptuous nickname, don’t you think?”

Dio raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly, in a tone that told you he knew exactly what you meant.

You stood, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. “I mean, calling yourself a god. Albeit in a different language, but still. Even I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Even you?” Dio questioned, leaning back in his chair. “Explain.”

“Well.” You gestured around at the ornate sitting room, at the dark embroidered seat cushions and the deep wooden surfaces surrounding you. “It does seem rather on brand for someone of my status, does it not?”

Dio’s smirk returned. “Of course,” he said, digging through his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “Instead you call yourself Duke/Duchess.”

“It would be improper of me to not,” you pointed out. “It is, in fact, my title. You, however, have no title, Shane Morrissey.”

Dio’s face went pale and the cigarette dropped from between his fingers, hitting the carpet below his feet with almost no noise. “How-“

At that moment, Camille pushed the door open, rolling in a cart with firewood and a tea tray. While she busied herself with the fire, you sat back down, taking Dio’s cigarette from the floor, lighting it on Camille’s match and handing it back to the stunned man. “I usually don’t allow guests to smoke,” you said casually. “But I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once.” You pushed an ashtray across the table, smiling. “You were saying?”

Dio blinked, wide eyed. “How do you know-“

“Your name?” You finished for him, accepting an empty teacup from Camille and nodding to her when she set the tray on the table and left once more. “I could see your identification card in your pocket when you reached for your cigarettes. But if you would prefer to be referred to as Dio, I will do so.”

Dio seemingly relaxed. But he was still on edge as you poured yourself some tea.

“It’s a lovely black currant tea, if you’re interested,” you said, not even looking up as you poured the thick black tea into your cup. “I see Camille brought two cups.” As you spoke, you took the cream jug and poured a splash into your tea, setting the jug aside from the rest of the set. “I promise it isn’t poison,” you added sweetly, taking a sip of your tea.

Despite your humorous remark, Dio still seemed cautious, waiting until you had taken a sip to pour himself a cup of tea. He didn’t add sugar, simply sat back and cradled the cup in his hands. You wondered if he was still cold. But the fire was going and you could feel it warming your skin, even if the feeling of warm and cold were long since lost to you.

“So, Dio,” you said, watching Dio take a sip of his tea. “You live in the city, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Dio’s voice was guarded, hesitant. He was scared of you.

You hummed, nodding to yourself. “I haven’t seen the city,” you admitted. “Do you enjoy it?”

Dio shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You sighed. “Dio,” you said firmly, forcing his attention to snap to you. “Do I scare you?”

“What?” Dio asked, surprised. “I mean.” His eyes went glassy as you waved your hand, forcing him to tell the truth. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Dio’s hand shook, spilling tea over his skin. “I-“ he faltered, blinking a few times, face pulling tight. “I don’t know.”

You waved your hand again, releasing Dio from your hold. “Maybe I should explain,” you said, standing and setting your cup down. “I am (F/N) (L/N), sole heir to my name and the last remaining Duke/Duchess of this land. I have held my title and estate for over twelve decades, and I am a vampire.”

Dio was silent, so silent you had to wonder if you had broken him. But eventually, he nodded slowly, setting his cup down. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

“You’re not dreaming,” you added helpfully. “Nor is this a hallucination caused by the tea.”

“Yeah,” Dio agreed quietly. “What about Camille, is she?”

“Oh of course not!” You said, sitting back beside Dio and picking up your cup again. “No, we don’t keep preternatural staff anymore. Her family has been in service to my family since long before I was born, and she seemed happy enough to have the job once I reached out. I do pay quite well.”

“Anymore?” Dio wondered out loud. “Tell me more about vampires. I want to know.” He leaned forward in his seat, and you grinned. It was rare you revealed yourself to a guest and were met with anything less than terror. But Dio seemed downright enthused. So you poured yourself a new cup of tea, adding a generous amount of cream this time, letting Dio see that it was not cream, but blood.

“Well. Where to start?” You mused. “I come from a long line of vampires, one of the longest in fact. My family, my bloodline if you will, was once well respected, but during the witch hunts, most of my kind died out. My mother survived and lived in this manor, alone, for centuries until she found me. I was lost, a wandering child, and she took me in and cared for me, turning me when the time was right.”

“So where is she?”

“Long dead,” you said, peeling your gloves off and setting them aside. “I’ve been the master of this estate for, oh, I guess it must be almost ninety years now. Yes, I inherited it during the depression.”

Dio nodded, his cigarette long since forgotten in the ashtray. “So, how do you survive? How much blood do you need? Are you like Dracula? Do you have any powers? What-“

“Dio!” You cut him off with a raised hand and a chuckle. “I cannot possibly answer your every burning question right now.” You stood, looking out over the storm, which was fading. “Here. Let us make a deal. I will send you home safely, with no complications, and in turn, I will entertain you once a month, on the first Saturday, and I will answer one question. Only one, until you are satisfied.”

Dio nodded, glancing out the window. “How do I know you aren’t just messing with me about the vampire thing?” He asked softly.

You smiled. “Come with me.”

He followed you out into the hall, where you guided him to the mirror just outside the sitting room. “Look,” you said, gesturing to the mirror. “It’s an old heirloom. Silver-backed, so I don’t appear in its surface.”

Dio gently reached out, touching the mirror with feather-light fingers. “You’re not,” he breathed. “It’s real.”

“It is,” you agreed. “Now, get going Dio. I’ll see you in one month. Don’t be late.”

Two years later

You opened the sitting room doors, seeing Shane sitting in his usual spot, right by the fireplace. He was already cradling his teacup, your cup sitting on the table, perfectly set up to your liking.

“Shane!” You said happily, and Shane stood, allowing you to hug him tightly. “You’re on time.”

“When am I not?” Shane asked, pulling away and sitting back down. “Shall we?”

You laughed. “We shall.”

Your cup was full to the brim of blood, no tea this time. It was a feeding day, and as much as you hated it, Shane promised he didn’t mind.

“Actually,” you decided, setting your cup down without taking a sip. “Perhaps we should do this a different way.”

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, worried. “Did I make it wrong? Camille brought me the teapot. She said it was your favorite.”

You shook your head. “No Shane,” you said. “You’re perfectly good. In fact.” You stood, offering him your hand. “You’re more than good.”

Standing, Shane let you lead him to the window, looking out over your night-darkened estate. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t want some stranger’s blood,” You purred softly, pushing Shane’s shirt collar down. “I want you, Shane. I want to taste you on my tongue, to have your life filling my belly and making me warm.”

Shane gulped, his skin heating. “Really?”

“Would I lie?” You asked, almost pouting. “My love, I would never. Say the words, and I will make you feel amazing.”

Nodding, Shane put a hand to the window to brace himself. “I give you permission,” he said, voice wavering. “You may feed from me.”

You smiled, putting your mouth to his neck and kissing, trailing to the perfect spot. He shivered, moaning softly when you nipped at the tender flesh of his neck. Curving your lips up at the shameless sounds you were eliciting from Shane, you finally found the sweet spot and dug your fangs in.

If you thought Shane was vocal when you were just teasing, you were in for a surprise. As you lapped at the blood pooling on Shane’s skin, he writhed under you, moaning and breathlessly whining your name, both hands pressed fully to the window to keep stable. You licked a warm stripe up the curve of Shane’s neck, chuckling as he breathed heavily. “Do you like that, my love?”

“Yes,” Shane gasped out. “Yes, I do, Your Grace.”

You hummed, running a finger through the smeared blood and turning Shane around so he could see you suck his blood off your finger. “You taste exquisite,” you moaned around your finger. “So perfect.” You moved in again, licking up the last of the blood.

Shane breathed loud against you, his breath disturbing your hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “More,” he begged as you pulled away. “Please.”

“No more my love,” you said, wiping your mouth on a nearby towel. “I will not push you, especially on your first feeding.” You gently pressed the towel to Shane’s skin, occasionally pulling it away and checking on the wounds. Two perfect little puncture holes, still seeping the tiniest bit, marred Shane’s smooth skin. “I’ll call Camilla, have her clean you up properly.”

While you two waited for Camilla, you lay beside the fireplace, Shane laying in your lap as you held a book, reading aloud to him and stroking gently through his hair.

“I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal.” You smiled, flicking the page and watching Shane’s eyes slide closed. “Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat,” you read softly, urging Shane to sleep, to rest as you read.

Camille came in, carrying a tray of healing supplies. You gestured for her to leave them on the table, and she did, smiling at the sight of Shane in your lap before she ducked out of the room.

“My love?” You asked, laying the book down and grabbing the bandages. “My love, may I see your neck?”

Shane reflexively turned, showing you the side of his neck you’d fed from. You carefully dressed the wound, humming to yourself as you did so.

“I never got a question today,” Shane murmured, startling you.

“Oh.” You set down the roll of bandages, carding through Shane’s hair again. “What do you wish to ask today?”

Shane leaned into your hands, grinning slightly. “Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked softly. “In a strictly non-vampire way.”

You smiled, nodding. “Of course, my love,” you answered. “Of course.”

As Shane’s eyes fluttered shut once more, you picked up the book, determined to finish at least this chapter. With Shane in your embrace and the warmth of the fire surrounding you, you continued to read your newly christened boyfriend to sleep. “I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited—waited with a beating heart.”

#NYPD Blue #shane 'dio' morrissey #dio morrissey #dio morrissey x reader #dio morrissey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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