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sairitaikutsu · 4 months

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Writing practice cuz i havent written anything in a while

Not salt raiders but this is based on my own experiences. Sry <3

“Eat shit. Actually.”

This was her fifth loss against him today. It’s no secret that Marin was better at…most videogames in general than her twin brother Jaun, yet here he was, beating the absolute life out of her like it was nothing.

The two were playing a fighting game they bought for themselves during the holidays, and since then, they were nothing short of obsessed. Jaun was interested with the story and characters and while Marin shared his sentiment about the game, she was having fun being behind the controller for a lot of the times they played. She loved actually playing the game.

However, Marin still hadn’t decided which character she’ll main. It wasn’t like there was a plethora of fighters in the roster, only around twenty of them with a few others locked behind an expansion pack, but she didn’t have the patience to learn every single one of them.

She didn’t know the moves and combos for any of them, currently playing as a soldier with superpowers, but as much as the adrenaline was rushing, none of the moves seem to have a drastic impact on Jaun’s main, a nunchuck-wielding pyromancer.

With every button Marin pressed, her frustration grew worse as she could do nothing but watch her character take it all. It was as if her controls weren’t working (even though they were in good condition), and her pride was even more hurt seeing another victory from Jaun, the latter cackling as they watch the victory animation play out.

Clearly, this fighter wasn’t suited for Marin’s play style.

Marin groans and chooses the option to select a new fighter, waiting for Jaun to do the same for it to work.

“I will have my vengeance,” she says, half-jokingly. Jaun says nothing as he lets Marin choose another character.

Marin eyes the many close-up images of the fighters, seeing which one was promising. Her brain then supplied her with a memory from when she was playing through the game’s Story Mode. There was a character who created clones and utilized portals, and he was kinda annoying to fight in her opinion. Luckily, he was playable.

Another match between her and Jaun begins. She just wants to win already.

Marin starts with her go-to combo for fighting games, alternating between the front and back punching buttons, before doing the same with kicking. To her surprise, the character did have a combo for her go-to attack, and it felt impactful on both the opponent and her sanity. She continued trying out whatever was possible, even pausing the game momentarily at one point to read the character’s special moves.

Soon, she finally won. Even though it was one win over Jaun’s six more in total, Marin was content. She at least knew which character she was most comfortable playing, the one that suited her “random bullshit” play style the most. Her main, her in-game identity.

The more she played as her new main, the more powerful she felt. How else was she going to describe it? The longer she played him, the more comfortable she was with doing his special moves and combos. Sometimes she’d find herself lost in the idea of winning, letting her fingers do the job pushing buttons and her muscle memory do the work for her.

Contrasting Marin’s anxious, introverted personality was her aggressive attack-based play style. Sure, over time, she learned to be more careful, going on the defense when necessary, but she always tried to attack as soon and quick as possible. Honestly, who wouldn’t? The first hit sometimes decides whose victory was promising and who needs catching up.

And Marin knows she can’t afford to miss.

#writing #writeblr #might post this to ao3 lmao #it IS a fanfic site but cmon guys i’ve seen original works there #writing practice #fun fact: the note title for this is “Boop gamer” with a comma between those words

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secretagentspydetectiveninja · 1 month

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posting this with absolutely no context

#am i a cryptid now? i log on like once in a blue moon to post cringe and then leave again #ace attorney #apollo justice #tikki #random stuff #my stuff #ooookay okay okay okay. anyone reading the tags can have a LITTLE context‚ as a treat #so. sitting on my ao3 currently is an unfinished fic with exactly this premise #i want to finish it so bad. it haunts me every day. people leave such nice comments and everything #but i just have no motivation. trust me i've tried #i thought that perhaps drawing it might finally kick my brain back into gear #i'm so sorry readers i'm sorry i WILL finish it i promise it's not abandoned #it was so much fuuuuun #tikki are you seeing this. cringefail author who keeps playing video games instead of writing lmao #anyway goodbye friends i am gone again. logging off once more

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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of snow angels, ridiculousness, and the liberating breathlessness of falling in love with robin buckley

There's insistent knocking on the front door that draws Nancy's attention away from the book she's been sucked into for the last three hours.

"Coming!" she calls, moving the blanket from around her shoulders and rushing down the stairs. The knocking only gets more insistent and louder, and Nancy calls again, "I am coming, geez!"

If this is Mike who forgot his keys, again, she's going to ask Steve for the nail bat to whoop his ass like Erica has suggested a couple times already.

But when she opens the door, it's not Mike standing there. It's a very adorable, very excited-looking Robin, her hair and jacket covered in thick white snowflakes. When exactly it started snowing, Nancy doesn't know, but the streets are white.

And so is Robin.

Robin, who's grinning at her, swaying back and forth on her feet.

"It's snowing," is all she says, and Nancy wants to roll her eyes, because obviously, but all she can do is chuckle, feeling a bit breathless.

"Y-yeah, looks like it is, huh?"

"Snow, Nance!" Robin is laughing, her excited rocking almost turning into little jumps on the spot now, the same way Dustin does when he's overly enthused.

"It's winter, Robbie, that's bound to happen, you know?"

The nickname slips past her tongue before she can rein it in, and Nancy feels her cheeks heat up. She smiles, because that's what happens when Robin is there, and leans against the doorframe – partly to keep herself from reaching out and taking Robin's hand in hers like she's been longing to do.

It's crazy and Nancy doesn't really know what to do with it. This fluttering inside her chest, this inability to stop smiling, and – most importantly – this readiness to just follow Robin anywhere. Not just physically, but mentally. Robin's thoughts are all over the place most of the time, but still Nancy wants to follow them, wants to understand, wants to share with Robin the way she sees the world.

Nancy has always loved exploration and knowledge, has always valued facts and arguments and discourse and all those things that make stupid people roll their eyes in exasperation and impatience. But never Robin. She will engage with Nancy's hunger for knowledge, will support it, will spend hours in the library with her, smiling and bringing Nancy books upon books, even if they will stray from their original mission because Robin got excited over one thing or another, and then it's Nancy who indulges with a smile on her face.

They follow each other, and they do it with soft smiles, gentle massages if they've been stuck in one position too long, and patience. Curiosity. Trust.

It's new. It shouldn't work – and it didn't, in the beginning – but it does. Miraculously, wonderfully, it does. Miraculously, wonderfully, Robin's excitement sparks a giddiness in Nancy that she can only compensate by letting out a breathy laugh.

That only makes Robin grin all the brighter, and Nancy feels dizzy with it.

"Come and make snow angels with me. Dingus is busy, he has betrayed me and I'll make him pay by making the mightiest of all snow angels! And you're gonna join me."

Nancy's cheeks are starting to ache from smiling so much, but still she keeps at it. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and inclines her head.

"Oh, am I now?"

"You are in fact, Lady Wheeler," Robin says in that voice of hers. That stupidly endearing voice. "You're going to put on your coat and that floofy pink wooly hat that Steve crocheted for you the other week, and you're gonna join me on this adventure."

They look at each other for a moment or two, the snow keeps falling, covering Robin in white flakes that look so good on her, that make her look so young, so carefree. So beautiful.

See, beautiful is not usually a word that Nancy associates with the other woman. Smart, yes. Adorable, infuriating, endearing, really fucking amazing, sure. But lately, Nancy has started to put beautiful up there on the shelf of Robin Words inside her mind.

Before she knows it, captivated by the ethereal beauty of Robin covered in snow, waiting patiently, the entirety of her absolutely breathtaking attention solely on Nancy, she reaches up and brushes a strand of Robin's hair back behind her ear.

"Uhm."

The excitement and giddiness make way for something different and Nancy watches as Robin's face falls slightly. It does that sometimes when she looks at Nancy for a bit too long and Nancy looks back. When they share something personal that makes the air sizzle or heavy between them.

And every time Nancy forgets how to breathe.

"I'll be right back," she says, her voice no more than a whisper, before she whirls around and all but slams the door shut behind her. She leans against it for a second, catching her breath and clenching her eyes shut. "Get it together, Wheeler!" she hisses at herself.

But eventually she does grab her coat, puts on her new hat that Robin keeps commenting on, and grabs some matching woollen gloves. When she opens the door, Robin is still outside, but her grin has made way to a more tender smile. She's made no move to free her hair from the snow, and Nancy has to bite her tongue on the remark that she's gonna catch her death like that. Because snow looks too good on her, and Nancy apparently likes to watch now.

"Well, let's go then, Lady Buckley," she says and pulls the front door closed behind her.

Robin immediately offers her arm for Nancy to link with, which she promptly accepts.

"Oh, I'm no lady," she says, taking Nancy down her driveway and onto the street, leading her away from home. "I'm a knight who tricked the king in a game of wits. I'm gonna be head of the royal guard one day, actually."

Nancy smiles down at the white ground, her heart fluttering at Robin's antics. Of course she's a knight, not a lady, and of course she says it in such a matter-of-fact voice that there's not a hint of doubt to it.

"Let me guess, the king is Steve."

"Please," Robin scoffs. "The king is Erica, who's tricking the entire kingdom into believing Steve has any say here."

Nancy laughs at that and sobers only when Robin joins her. Sobers because it's quite breathtaking to see Robin joking and making up stories so easily, laughing in a manner so carefree it's liberating.

Robin is always liberating. Nancy has never met someone like her, has never felt like she does around Robin. Never dared. Never followed anyone as lightly as she does with her.

At night, when the hours on the clock aren't real anymore, stuck in the void between 2am and 5am, Nancy feels like she has uncovered one of life's great mysteries when she's with Robin. Or maybe Robin has discovered it simply by existing and being herself. By being Steve's soulmate.

But Nancy gets to witness it, gets to exist in Robin's orbit, gets to follow her wherever she leads, gets to explore and experience life through Robin's eyes and hands and words. There is always sense to her ramblings, and it's usually deeper than she lets on at first, but it always captures Nancy in a way that no one ever has before.

Like now, when Robin lets go of her arm and takes Nancy's gloved hand in hers, leading her down a trail and into the forest. She's sure that Robin isn't even entirely aware of how tight their grip is, but Nancy only laughs as she follows, hiding the way she squeezes Robin's hand by feigning a stumble here and there. Robin's grip is secure and unrelenting, and Nancy feels safe.

"We always used to go here when I was little, because my mother said that the angels are always in the woods more than around the houses, and so they'd find my snow angels better if they were here than in my backyard. Granted, that didn't stop me from essentially digging over our yard in my clumsy attempts at making snow angels first thing in the morning, but mother just left me to it and made hot choc– Oh shit!"

Robin stops abruptly and whirls around to Nancy, still not letting go of her hand.

"I should have made hot chocolate! Because we're gonna be freezing so hard when we're done. I'm so sorry, Nancy, next time I'm gonna bring hot chocolate!"

Next time. Nancy isn't even entirely sure what's gonna happen, but the thought of a next time makes her heart jump somehow. So she brings her hands up to Robin's shoulders and keeps her still.

"Next time," she says, smiling gently at the ball of nerves that is Sir Robin of Buckley, royal knight to the kingdom.

"Next time," Robin confirms and calms down. "Next time. Good, yes, perfect." She looks around at the untouched snow in the clearing they have reached and then looks back at Nancy with an almost manic grin. "Let's make some snow angels, Lady Wheeler."

"Sure," Nancy laughs, everything inside her tingling in the face of that look on Robin's face. "I'm guessing this is as good a time as any to tell you that I've honestly never made a snow angel before."

And Robin is gaping at her. Appalled, horrified, positively flabbergasted! Nancy wants to kiss it away, but all she does is turn away with what can only be called a giggle. Nancy Wheeler is not someone who giggles! She hasn't since sophomore year of high school! Leave it to Robin Buckley to resort her to all those confusing things again, but in a softer way than boys ever have.

Maybe that's what it's like to like a girl. Soft. Easy. Tentative and yet so sure. The air filled with a kiddy kind of patience and a patient kind of giddiness that makes you want to take her hand more than it makes you want to kiss her.

Maybe. She never asked. But it's definitely what it's like to like Robin Buckley. Maybe she's special like that, too.

"I'll show you how to make a snow angel, Nancy Elizabeth Wheeler the twenty-third, and if it's the last thing I do!" Robin declares, and Nancy sputters at the ridiculousness of the name. Robin only grins back, obviously proud of herself. God, Nancy wants to kiss her stupid and then do nothing but hug her in the snow.

And so Robin shows her. They lie down in the snow beside each other, their eyes meeting, their arms spread out. Robin reaches for her hand, linking their fingers slowly, oh so slowly that it sort of takes Nancy's breath away. She wants to learn. Not only how to make a snow angel, but also how to hold Robin's hand in a way that makes her feel safe, too. Warm. Wonderful. Giddy.

All those urgently soft things that Nancy is feeling right now.

Gently, slowly, Robin moves their linked hands up until they can't hold each other's eyes anymore, the sight obstructed by linked hands on glittering white powder. It's Nancy who moves their hands down, farther than where they started, all the way until they'd have to let go.

"Yeah," Robin rasps when they still again. "That's how you do it. You move your arms up and down to create the wings, and then your legs to make the dress."

Nancy smirks, moving their hands in the motion Robin suggested, her other arm joining in, but her legs still. "What if my angel is actually a royal knight who tricked the king and will be head of the royal guard one day?"

She's flirting. And even though Robin's cheeks are red from the cold, she could swear they flush even further.

"Knights can wear dresses, too."

"Mm-hm. This one feels better like this, though," Nancy argues, her smile softening. "They look better like that, too."

Robin hesitates for a second, her breath hitching, before she comes up to lean on one arm, hand still linked with Nancy's.

"Ridiculous angel, huh?"

Nancy feels dizzy with the way Robin looks at her, that heaviness back to her gaze, a certain importance that looks a lot like the urgent softness and soft urgency Nancy's been feeling since Robin came knocking on her door.

"Absolutely infuriating angel," she agrees, feeling rather breathless. "Ridiculous. Stubborn enough to turn entire worlds on their head, and endearing enough to get away with it."

Robin huffs, looking down for a moment as if in an attempt to hide her face. Nancy can't quite breathe or track her own mind, but that's fine because all she wants to focus on is Robin.

That's another wonderful feature about her. Nancy's mind is very loud very often, but not in the same way that Eddie's or Steve's or even Robin's are. It's loud with responsibility, with the need to control, to explore, to figure out, to solve.

Robin gets her to quiet down. Gets her to focus on something other than that.

Something less to do with Nancy Wheeler and the world, and everything to do with Robin Buckley and the universe. Life. In a different way than what can be captured and expressed with science and reason and words.

That was what's drawn Nancy in, and that's what's keeping her.

It's what makes her shift her hold on Robin's hand so they're holding onto each other more securely.

"What?" she's whispering when Robin doesn't move for a while, and it's quiet enough not to burst the bubble of heaviness they find themselves in.

"Nothing." Robin shakes her head and then lets herself fall forward into the snow, her head inches away from Nancy's. Their hands, still linked, are now resting on Robin's stomach. "The ridiculous angel is just a mess."

Nancy's heart is fluttering at Robin's proximity and her breathy voice so, so close. She turns lightly, lying on her side in the snow, her other hand landing between them. They're so close she can smell Robin's scent of laundry detergent, books, Steve and something much sweeter.

"How?" she asks, just as breathy as Robin.

There's a huff of breath and Nancy can see that Robin's eyes are closed. "Because the ridiculous angel is ridiculous enough that… that they can't stop thinking about… someone. And think that there might be something there. Something more. With that someone."

"Someone," Nancy says, smiling still, and Gods, she feels so inebriated with it. "Why's it ridiculous to like that someone?"

"It's not ridiculous to like that someone. It's a law of nature, actually, to like that someone. She's, like, the smartest, prettiest, most badass gir– someone out there. It's just ridiculous to think that they would like the angel back. It's ridiculous to think that they'd like how much the angel dreams about taking their hand and holding it as they kiss. How much the angel thinks about holding them. It's all the angel, the ridiculous, infuriating angel can think about. The angel is actually a crazy person, you see."

"I see," Nancy breathes, her smile so wide, so painful that she wonders briefly if it should at all be possible to smile so wide. But she does. Because Robin still has her eyes closed. Because Robin is a crazy person. And so is Nancy.

Crazy. Absolutely batshit. Gone for the angel.

"Robbie?"

"Yes?"

"Can you look at me?"

"Why?" She sounds like a toddler, her question more a refusal than a complaint, and it makes Nancy laugh. Crazy.

"Please?" And Nancy knows no one can resist her pouty voice. Robin herself has told her so.

It works. Robin opens those pretty eyes of hers and Nancy hopes that one day she'll get her breath back. They look at each other for a moment, two, three, and then Nancy moves her free hand up to Robin's cheek, gently stroking the hair back from her eyes.

And then she whispers, because she's still out of breath, because she doesn't want to spook Robin, and because she doesn't want to burst their bubble. She isn't ready yet for the world to hear. Only Robin. Only Robin. "None of that is ridiculous."

It takes a moment, but then understanding dawns in those eyes and Nancy is falling and falling and falling. That smile catches her, though.

"It's not?"

"It's not."

A beat.

"Shit," Robin breathes, and then they're laughing again, leaning into each other with it until their foreheads are touching, the snow making way for every confession, every touch, every possibility.

"Nance," she whispers once they've calmed down again. "Can I kiss you?"

"Yeah."

And so they kiss in the embrace of the snow angels they've made, half covered by snow, secluded and safe from the world so ready to judge. It's just them. And Nancy finds that kissing Robin Buckley feels just as right as saving the world with her, just as right as following her into the library, into the forest, into the depths of her mind.

She never wants to stop.

written for @thefreakandthehair's spicy six winter fic challenge. the prompt: “I’ve honestly never made a snow angel before.” 🤍 thank you for creating this event/challenge! 🤍

#ronance #robin x nancy #nancy x robin #ronance fic #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #stranger things #dio words #this is my first ronance idk if this is okay. Nancy is a bit strong on the introspection in this one but eh it happens #she has a lot of thoughts okay?#sapphic love is soft and so are they. I hoped to convey that #go check out the collection on ao3 and read people's works (or click the tag to read on tumblr #lexswinterficchallenge #might post this to ao3 when it's not 3.17am lmao

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writetobuildtheworld · 2 years

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did you know... that if you don’t kudos/comment on fics... authors don’t know you read and enjoyed them...

#in a fandom i was in i had someone dm me and say 'omg why'd you stop writing x? i loved it!'#the fic in question had like. 3 kudos? and their ao3 handle wasn't one of them #bestie!! how was i supposed to know anyone was reading it!!#i apologize for the salt on this fine tuesday morning but good lord #im not a mind reader #yes i write for myself but yes engagement helps me stay motivated too #my post #sidenote: this might have been an ffn fic actually. so not kudos but favorites or whatever #but my point stands!!#my memory may be bad but that does not negate my correctness lmao #an author Cannot Know anyone has read and enjoyed their fics unless they are TOLD #addendum that dms on tumblr/ffn/platform of choice are also a fine way to tell authors you like their fic #it was more that they'd never interacted with my stuff before and only engaged to ask why something was discontinued

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hellsbeenbettersincehesplit · 2 months

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@zestapple

(og post for context)

Ask and ye shall receive! (Aka I’ve been looking for a reason to yap abt them lol also this got away from me so most is under the read more)

Ok so. On Cherri’s end, this is a month after the final battle. Her enemy turned ally turned sort-of-crush kissed her and died, and he wasn’t reforming and she’s worried he never will. Her best friend, Angel Dust, is still clean and avoiding violence. She knows damn well that their old activities weren’t aligned well with redemption, nor were they what’s best for either of them. That doesn’t change the fact that it feels like she’s being left behind with everything else Angel is leaving in the past. He tries to make time for her, and it’s nice, but it’s just not the same as it used to be. Also, he’s trying to get redeemed and go to Heaven- where Cherri won’t be. In summary, she knows she’s losing him, or at least will eventually. She’s lonely and reconsidering all of her priorities, and thinking about if she should stay at the hotel.

On Blitzø’s end, he’s reconnected with Fizz but his sister still wants nothing to do with him. He’s caught feelings for a prince of Hell that he’s sure only wants him for sex. His daughter is distant at best. He still hates himself.

Both of them have self-destructive tendencies, violent occupations, and have been shown relying on sex and drugs as a coping mechanism.

So. Stolas has dissolved Angel’s contract after roughly 5 minutes because Valentino misspelled a couple crucial words. At this point, Stolas is talking to Charlie about helping more sinners. Cherri is elated for Angel, and he looks so happy and free. She hugs and congratulates him, and it’s great. And while they’re sitting at the bar to celebrate and Angel is flirting with Husk, she hears Husk ask the angsty imp bodyguard if he’s sure he can handle his liquor, and the imp responds with something about out-drinking Gluttony herself.

Interesting. Cherri could vibe with this.

So, she strikes up a bit of a conversation with him. Turns out he runs a company that assassinates people on Earth, and he seemed equally fascinated when she talked about defending her turf. She showed him one of her bombs, and he let her examine one of his guns. He gives her a business card. And she puts her number on his phone, because the imp- named Blitzø apparently- is kind of a vibe.

The next time she needs backup and Angel has to apologize and can’t show up because of Val- which she totally gets but which is also annoying as fuck- she calls IMP next, promises cash, and surprisingly, he shows up. She has to hand it to him, Blitzø is an incredible fighter. They go out for drinks later, and they can match each other shot for shot.

The next time she sees him, he texts her an address. She shows up and finds out that they want her to help out with their latest conflict. She asks about how she thought they worked in the human world and they all talk over each other so she still doesn’t know what they were doing in Pride. And when her part in their plan is over, she has to admit again- the three work together incredibly well. (She wonders if she and Sir Pentious could have been that, in another world. Shit. Now she’s sad again.) Blitz hands her a bottle of tequila straight from Gluttony to thank her, and she has to admit that it was shockingly considerate. (The next time she sees him, she gives him a set of her bombs to pay him back.)

And so it becomes their thing. Whenever Cherri’s in a pickle and Blitzø is available, he comes to help out with the turf war. Whenever he’s in Pride on a job, he calls her and she gets to blow shit up with him. And usually, they end the meeting by getting fucked up together in a club or at a party somewhere. She can honestly call him something of a friend. He would say the same if he wasn’t so scared of getting close to people.

It all changes when Charlie comments about some developments with Heaven, and how Angel might be redeemed really soon. Obviously, Cherri was happy for him, but of course something like this would be bittersweet, because now losing Angel is closer than ever. So after she congratulates him, she retreats to her room and calls the first number she saw that might be a sympathetic ear without being too attached to the situation. Through her tears, she talks about everything with losing Angel, losing Pentious, and everything else in her life. On the other end, Blitzø is quiet for a moment, and after an awkward attempt to comfort her, he tells her a little bit about his thing with Stolas. ‘I guess we’re both fuckups,’ he tells her, and she laughs wetly and agrees.

After then, they start talking more often without an external reason, and sometimes Blitzø will visit pride just to see her. It’s… really nice, honestly.

They’re a terrible influence on each other and they often egg on the other’s worst tendencies. But they also can let loose around the other. They know the other can’t judge them because frankly they both know the other’s personal life is just as messy. And there’s a freedom for both of them in that.

#cherri bomb #hazbin #hazbin hotel #blitzø #blitz #blitzo #Angel dust #cherridust #helluva #helluva boss #alternate universe #fanfic #<- for blog organization but this got away from me so I also might cross post it to ao3 lmao

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betweenxt-the-lines · 21 days

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everyone!!! Shuggy nation!! Seeking Currency updated this is not a drill!!!

#I think I plan to post my live reaction of the chapter LMAO but before that I need to write a comment on it on ao3 #the chapter took my soul and sold it to wolves if anyone is curious #ff: Seeking Currency #au: TheWorldIsEnding_AndImLateForWork #i am the least sane person about this fic. i kinda wanna do a fic analysis on this too but it's so long and idk I think i might combust in #emotions before i can get to that #shuggy #one piece

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aeriona · 1 year

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Okay so I wrote a thing (like I said I would) it’s really short but here you go:

In a nutshell it’s just some random, dumb banter about why Shadow looks like a weird creature-guy. Enjoy!

“What purpose do those serve?” Vio asked.

Shadow squinted over from his perch on an old, leather couch, an ear dipped in confusion. “Huh? What serves what?”

Vio gestured to Shadow’s hands and face. “Your teeth, they’re far sharper than any Hylian I've seen. Your fingernails too, they look like claws. Why is that?” He asked passively, genuinely curious.

Shadow’s face scrunched up further, as if he hadn’t even thought about it himself.

“Y’know, I don’t actually know. I have no idea.” He held out his hands and curled his upper lip, exposing his fangs. Vio still instinctually found the sight unsettling, despite having been around Shadow for several days now.

His teeth were sharp and predatory, and if Vio was honest, they looked like they belonged more in the mouth of a fox. He shuddered.

Shadow rolled his jaw and grinned mischievously, curling his fingers over the arm of the couch he was draped over. “Maybe I’m, like, half-monster?” He continued, his smile turning into a grimace. “These claws are real fuckin’ annoying though. They get stuck on everything. I can barely put a tunic on without ripping it apart.”

Vio hadn’t considered that. Though, now he thinks about it, it makes a lot of sense. “Sounds troubling. Have you ever done that before?” He prompted.

Shadow’s toothy grin was back again in full force. “Yep. I’ve nearly tore this one, too.”

He sat up and held out an arm, pointing to his sleeve. Vio could see a handful of loose strands in the white fabric, dangling from his wrist like cobwebs.

“See that? They get caught on the threads and yank them out. Drives me crazy”. Shadow growled, shaking his wrist to emphasize his point.

Vio thought for a moment, before making a tentative offering.

“I brought a bag with me to the Fire Temple, I should have several spare undertunics in there if I were to look. Perhaps you’d like to borrow one?”

Shadow grinned widely and nodded eagerly, it seemed genuine.

For once, Vio didn’t even need to force himself to smile back.

#Four swords #shadow link #vio link #four swords manga #Vidow #vio x shadow #I mean you can interpret this as platonic (if you’re a coward) but that ain’t what i wrote it as lmao #IM KIDDING you can do what you want #my writing #Consider this warmup/practise i have no idea what i am doing #I’m getting real ambitious here but if i end up making longer on es i might start posting em to AO3 perhaps #Might make art for this little scene at some point too cause i’m really bored rn

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boyfrillish · 10 months

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howdy! for a drabble prompt how about something like, victor/hop where one has to be fiercely protective of the other? (say, a wild pokemon encounter gets out of hand or...)

Victor’s walking toward Challenge Road when it happens. He knows there are plenty of wild Pokémon happy to attack passersby during any weather, yet he’s still caught off-guard when a Bisharp charges at him from behind.

The battle cry rings in his ears and when he turns around, he’s met with sharp blades ready to strike. He can barely shout a command to Sylveon or switch to a different Pokémon. The blow of the attack throws him right into the stairs and he yelps as the edges of the steps dig into his back.

He’s frozen in place as the blade points threateningly at his face.

But that’s when fear melts into a blend of admiration and worry alike.

“Get away from him!” an oh-so-familiar voice yells.

And Victor watches as Hop charges directly into the wild Bisharp, hitting it with his own body to knock it aside, and Dubwool eagerly helping with its Double-Edge.

Hop stands in front of Victor like a shield, Pokéball in hand to switch out. “Go, Cinderace! Hit it with your Pyro Ball!”

With the type advantage on his side, he fends off the wild Bisharp with ease. Though rather than celebrate the win, he rushes to kneel next to Victor.

Grim determination — an expression that’s burned into Victor’s mind ever since their battle at the Champion Cup — makes way for worried frown. “Victor! It didn’t cut you, did it? Let me check you for injuries!”

But the only response Victor can think of is to grab Hop by the collar of his jacket and shout, “You idiot! What were you thinking?!”

“I just saved your butt!” Hop shouts right back. “And you’re probably hurt, so let me tend to you already!”

Victor really wants to argue — because really! What was he thinking? — but his body has to betray him by wincing in pain. “Ugh, fine.”

He slips out of his dojo jacket and loosens the zipper of his binder for ease of breath, at the same time allowing Hop to lift his shirt to examine his back for any obvious signs of injury and patch up the scratches on his arms and legs.

Victor is mad. He really is. But the Butterfree that go wild in his belly again at Hop’s gentle, caring touch make it tough to stay mad. And, okay, maybe Hop going reckless protector mode for him made him fall in love even more than he already was.

Still, though… he’s miffed. Feelings don’t always make sense.

Finally, Hop is satisfied with his work and he fixes Victor’s t-shirt before putting away the first aid kit. Softly, he says, “I did the best I could, but I’m just a Professor’s apprentice, not a Doctor. So you should go back to the Dojo and have someone check you more thoroughly as soon as possible.”

Victor groans. “But I have training to do!”

“Nuh uh, training can wait. Health is more important,” Hop argues. “You’re the Champion of Galar, it’s no good if you end up out of commission because you thought you could tough it out.”

“If health is so important, then why did you charge in like that? You could’ve got hurt!”

“I didn’t think, okay?” Hop says. “I saw that Bisharp attacking you and heard your cry and all I knew was I had to make sure you’re safe. There was no time to think before acting.”

“You keep doing that, Hop. Charging ahead recklessly and rushing off before I have a chance to say something or help you. It can get a bit frustrating, you know?” Victor says. Softly, he adds, “I worry about you and I don't want you to get yourself hurt for my sake. I want you to be safe, too.”

“Sorry about that, Victor,” Hop says. “Sonia reproached me for that too, but I can’t help it sometimes. Especially when something or someone I really care about is in danger.”

“Just, promise you’ll be careful, okay? Or else I’ll charge in and protect you, because I really care about you too.”

A smile blooms on Hop’s face as he squeezes Victor’s hand in affirmation of the promise. “Heh heh, it makes me really happy we always have each other’s back.”

Victor feels like a firework lights up in his heart.

He smiles back. “Me too.”

#victor x hop #hop x victor #trainshipping #masahop #hopvic #boyfrillish writing tag #thank you for sending a prompt!! this was a perfect opportunity to practice some action-y bits + heck yes protectiveness #ended up editing longer than planned for just warm-ups lmao that's just how it goes i guess #(if I also post it to ao3 I might edit a bit more/try if I can add more idk yet I'll see)#I had fun writing this and also it helped me destress on Thursday so thank you again for sending the prompt!#but also I was extremely tired the last two days + hot weather so I took my time #anywa y hope you like it!#(also yes it's trans Victor again and he's pining a bunch lmao)#I really want to write a scene where Victor is the protective one too ... they're protector x sunshine squared ...

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saltpepperbeard · 11 months

Text

#LMAO SEND HELP #If only I had a neutral user that I could have dragged around throughout the years but ALAS lol #Here's the PREDICAMENT I'm in #I started on AO3 as my previous tumblr url #And when I began writing for a WHOLLY different fandom I threw that one beneath a pseud and made my sideblog url my main user on AO3 #But now here I am wanting to write for THIS fandom #And I'm sort of sitting here with my hands on my hips like...do I honestly want to keep throwing things beneath a pseud each and every time #<my interest shifts PFFFF #LIIIIIKE part of me really wants to just settle into a neutral name on AO3 and just post anything and everything from there #Which seems to be what a good handful of people do really #BUUUUUUT also #I do like having user/url consistency #But I'm not sure how much that even matters tbh???#It might just be a bigger deal in my head than it actually is HA #So I just wanted to see what folks thought #WHAT WOULD Y'ALL DO IDK

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boxwinebaddie · 3 months

Note

wait omg.. ur fr not updating ur fanfics ever again?!? HEARTBREAKING... BUTT... does that possibly mean u can spoil everything (slowly ofc)

EXTREMELY LONG BUT IMPORTANT UPDATE:

so...i'm not going to say ~never~, my friend. i promised myself during my uncle nina self care era, that i would *justin bieber vc* never say never, because setting strict, set-in-stone regulations and rules for myself is why i am not writing anymore...which, yes, as much as i enjoy my fanfics/updating them, for the sake of both my physical and mental health, i think it is in my best interest to not update my fanfictions right now. i'll explain as much as i can down below.

so...this is going to be a very, very long post. i know that i had an anon on here that told me that they look forward to when i post long, indepth things, however, i am going to say that this isn't like a fun hc post or anything, this is just a lot of information...about my blog and my fanfictions, how i have been feeling and what i'm thinking about doing moving forward from this point. a lot of it is stuff that i've written about a lot ( stress, writing, etc. ) but i think it's important to read, mayhaps? just to keep you in the loop/informed on stuff.

long story short tho: i am not updating my fanfics rn, that's not to say i will not be writing/doing ncu stuff and it does...thank god...mean that i can now slowly spoil things...In A Controlled Manner.

to jog your re(memory), lmao, i was very unwell writing peppermint.

we know this...we don't love this.

what i did love was writing peppermint when i was but doing all that formatting, writing more in one update than some people write in entire fanfictions, forcing myself to be consistent...it was...at times very frightening how unwell i was. especially mentally. i just...i was not well equipped for the stress that came with having a moderately successful fanfic. being perceived at that level, with how severe my social anxiety is...it was not good for me. like it was fun because it was cool to see people so invested/get so much high praise for the things that i was writing but...idk. i am very introverted. ravenstan is me because i try to be really cool but i am a fake and a fraud lmaooo.

but yeah, too much upkeep and while 99.9% of the negativity around pep and myself was self inflicted...i will say...especially after 10, i did get some very...Intense...reactions to my fanfiction. like, very, very intense in a way that i was very offput by it and also worried about how the things i was writing were affecting your real lives. which, on top of how i was doing ( not well ) was not something i wanted to have constantly on my shoulders. please friends, remember, you are not responsible for how other people perceive your work, so long as you tag it accordingly, are authentic to yourself, and respectful to others. or so i believe, at least. idk. this is so long, i'm sorry.

speaking of peppermint tho...i am going to be so honest. i...do not think i'm gonna update it or keep writing it. i know that kind of sucks but the Peppermint Period of my life, i hope, will be over soon, lol. which i LOVE pep, but there is a lot of dark, negative energy associated with it, i tried to write it a million times and can't -- which, fun fact, the last stretch of peppermint is the stan self healing/self care arc ( which i love, i love u so bad pep!stan, my baby, my angel ) and the reason i could not write it...is because i was never in a positive enough headspace to write it.

like...i was not healed enough to write the healing arc. thats...oof.

i also just...don't feel super good about writing stuff about the boys in hs as an adult lady, like? they are 18 and all, but idk, it does not make me feel good things, its just not that relevant to me and the only reason that they were in hs in pep is because all of the relevant tiktok lore surrounding style was senior year hs stuff. but i really just prefer writing the boys in rm/in college/doing adult boy stuff. thats a lot more in my wheelhouse and i feel way better doing that tbh.

a final pep thing that ties into the last part of this ask is YOU CAN ASK ME ANYTHING YOU WANT ABOUT PEPPERMINT. i will spoil everything, like i'd prefer to do it in parts so if you want chapter 12 first i can tell you all about that. i don't have a ton of stuff written out in action...but i have...a fuck ton of dialogue. like nearly all of the dialogue for peppermint is written. ( if you want i can even take the dialogue and write it in sort of stage direction type formats with the actions to make it flow a little better -- i just can't write Chapters )

so yeah, ask me anything at all that you like about peppermint, but i can't spoil the entire fic in one ask...slow pace, please, haha.

okay, rm i do actually care a lot about. i also don't know if i in good concious can write chapter updates for it, but i can give you very detailed asks about it and give you what information i do have about it...also in small pieces. like someone asked me what happened to the ex-cd guitarist...and i can give you that information very soon.

i know it is kind of a bummer to not be able to get updates, but like, when i tell you i was seriously unwell...like it was really bad my real life was getting fucked up because of my online life which is whack.

but yeah! you can also ask me rm stuff! i kind of want to do it as sequencially as i can just so it flows a lot better like, idk, maybe start w/ ravesey hate stuff and move chapter to chapter, answering hc things in between? that feels right to me? but yeah!!! you can ask me what goes in the next chapter? if you want? or the next two/whatever is left of the hate...i don't have a ton of dialogue but i do have p much the whole situation blocked out? ish? lmao rip.

also!!! if i give you any scenario and you would like me to write in more detail or if you'd really like to see it in writing, you can totally leave me a request and if i feel up to it at some point, i will write it up. i also may just feel funky fresh and want to write it one day and randomly post it. lmao just be ready for anything tbh.

BUT YEAH!!! no i will totally give you rm spoilers and stuff!!! but again, i'm gonna try and not give you too much at once...v slow. in that way, ik its not the same as getting my full-fledged chapter updates, but it could hopefully still be exciting because you'd be waiting to get my content and it would come out quicker? which is still neat i think? my way to keep updating you without disappearing or like straining the shit out of my heart and brain.

okay, also, on ao3, as far as Big Writing goes...i'm not sure if i'm gonna post anything actually updatey on there again. it was just too stressful for me yall. i dont even want to make a seperate chapter post of explaination because i really don't want my fic to sit at the top of the tag for days and garner attention or like...wake to people waiting for pep or rm who think they're getting a new chapter, just to get told that i don't really feel safe updating them anymore. way too much attention which is what...drove me to this point tbh.

again, i like tumblr. i like the intimacy. i like that you guys can anonymously send me stuff and for the most part, i like that i can be sort of anonymous on here too...whilist you know, still being able to share stuff on here with you about my life. which...that's also a thing i was gonna mention at the end is, because i'm in education and kids are super nosy, if something happens, i will have to self destruct this blog and i'm sorry.

i am being so serious like if a kid finds my fanfiction tumblr, not only will it be embarrassing/unprofessional, like i am very worried that i could lose my job, slash not do the thing that i love the most in the world next to writing. :( i really do not want the thing i do in my free time to effect my outside life, which, again, is largely why i am doing this to protect myself lmao. like i am seriously considering like deleting anything that has to do with myself at all because of that. i tag my posts as accurately as i can to keep myself and all of you safe. please, please be mindful. please make good choices.

in vein of staying anonymousish ( tbh this is so much information that i ALMOST was going to post this as a voice message but i was not sure putting my human girl voice associated w/ this blog tbh ) i lowkey might nuke the twitter...i don't like it on there, lol. the cancel culture is frightening ( which is not to say don't cancel me if i'm being weird like please do that lol ) the people on there are really intense, i don't like the in fighting...i am on my tumblr because i feel safe here and i like all of you and i like answering your questions.

tbh, rp if you're reading this, the only reason i actually have the twitter is bc riley and i chat on there which, tbh, i might just bully her to use the dms on here or like licherally give you my personal phone number, lol. like we are internet married and talk constantly and i want to delete my twitter so bad it's not funny ESPECIALLY THE VIEW COUNTER LIKE THAT SHIT IS SO FUCKED UP I HATE IT.

kind of why i don't like ao3 either bc the hit count thing...really fucks w/ my mental health. the stress of being boxwinebaddie on there is also a lot so...okay...last segway...i do lowkey want to Actually write tkak...WHICH I KNOW NO ONE BUT ME CARES ABOUT BUT LOL THIS IS MY BLOG I DO WHAT I WANT BROTHER!!! its just funny bc this always happens where i can't write a fanfic i'm writing and then get excited abt some weird concept i have and start writing it and then stop again. so if i am writing tkak, please know it might not finish and i might just talk about it in ask memes.

orrrr write it in my google docs and link you or post screenshots. tbh i am very glad to be away from the ao3 layout like its so fucking ugly. the google docs are so much easier to read in my opinion.

for writing/future fanfics tho...as weird as it is, i don't think i'm gonna attach my name/user to my future fanfics. like you guys can know about them on here as long as we are chill about it. i just get too much anxiety about my association with my account and it getting too hectic again. so if i post tkak, i will probably do it on a different ao3 account ( you guys will know ofc ) and if i post one shot type stuff...i might do it also on a burner account or anonymously.

i actually ALMOST posted remember anonymously because of how stressed i was about it being negatively perceived/it being weird or people being mad at me for not updating pep. like i am very stoked you guys liked it but i seriously almost did not attach it to my name.

so if you see stuff that looks like its me floating around the style tag or in the other south park tags...its probably me. idk drop me a weird code word thats not too obvious and i'll send you one back, haha. i'm sorry i know this is complicated i just...i need to distance myself from this like, when i tell you i needed therapy for this...a mess.

but yeah! i hope that all makes sense! by all means ask me about pep ( literally anything abt pep but try to start small and build up ) and rm within reason and i will get back to you! it is extremely freeing for me to be able to talk about stuff because it sucked so bad to sit on all this info and just not be able to talk about it? like AAAA??? like thats why i was forcing myself to post stuff bc i wanted to tell yall stuff. and i would rather post you well thought out ask memes and dialogue that i feel happy abt then rush out terrible updates and grow to resent my fanfics like...no thank you.

i honestly feel like i have really fun ideas and am ( pretty ) good at coming up with complex lore/interesting hcs and shit, but i'm just not good at waiting, not good at keeping secrets and not good at being consistent...this is what i feel happiest doing, ig. hopefully this is rockin and rollin with you. i'm sorry this was a lot.

closing note is...i love you all very much. thank you so much to all of your for supporting as my identity as a writer has adapted, supporting my multiple works/promoting my personal health, advocating for me, being kind...i could not ask for better readers. again, i realize this is not the most fun information, but i have to take care of myself and this is the only way i know how. while also doing the thing i love, which is talking about my fanfics/writing/sharing my stories with all of you.

you are welcome to click off if you want, but if you are willing to ride the ride my friends, i promise to keep it cute on here. <3

thank you for everything, my darlings, and from whatever hurts or harms you, past, present and future

i hope you heal :),

uncle nina

p.s. if possible, if we could not distribute this post or rb it or anything like that i'd appreciate it. you can message me or write to me in the comments but i would like to maintain the liberty of deleting this post or editing it as i need to in case something happens. tysm.

#ncu update #nina speaks #idk that the tag is i actually think i might make an elaborate tag system so u guys/other people can read my blog #and find specific info abt parts of my fics or chars and stuff #but yeeeeeah i don't want to write right now i do not feel good i do not fuck w the energy i felt after i wrote pep for a while #like i already get sometimes overwhelmed on this blog i dont want to go back on ao3 which is already slow and seriously stressful #you can ask for spoilers tho! please do it in small sections! i am just one person and my fics are very lore intensive #i spend a lot of time on my asks i cannot do too much at once unfortunately #if i post stuff on ao3 again i would rather it not be attached to me ik thats kind of lame but it was mega stressful yall #it also makes it so if people enjoy my work it has nothing to do w bwb and this blog and i can start fresh #if u drop me a code tho i will get back to u haha just if u think its me out there please do not start shouting my name looool #hope this makes sense and hope you heal #sorry this was so much i needed to get this off my chest #you can also ask me questions abt this post it was really ocnfusing i tried to say as much as i can #but i am very tired...which is also why i cant really update bc i am working often and very very tired lmao #just be paitent w me if you can and you always are so i'm not worried ily so much thank u thank u thank u #none of this is spelled right ill fix it later...v tired rip

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extrasfromthevoid · 2 months

Text

Draxum's Accidental Child Acquisition (part 1/?)

@tmntbestsibscompetiton

Summary: How Milo (though that's not yet her name) found her way into the Hidden City and into the care of the one and only Baron Draxum

OR Draxum's adventures in parenting.

----

In an innermost back alley of New York City, there is a very bored girl.

The plain red ball she’d been given—or found, she doesn’t remember—is nice, but she’s running out of games she can play on her own with it and there’s no one around to play with her.

She picks up the ball once again as it rolls back to her feet from where she kicked it against the brick wall.

The city around her thrums with activity, but the late hour means that there’s no one around.

How did this lone child end up in the depths of New York City alone? Well, even she doesn’t know that. It doesn’t matter to her anyway as the sole thought at the forefront of her mind is that she is incredibly bored.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a curious flicker of light in the corner of her eye. Looking up, a curious orb of light zips over her head.

Mesmerized, the rubber ball drops from her hands as she reaches up for the light. It weaves gracefully through her fingers before darting away, its pale blue light pulsing cheerfully. Without hesitation, she chases after it, heedless of the rubber ball bouncing away behind her, quickly abandoned.

The orb zips around the corner into a nearby alley and—strangely—through the wall behind a dumpster. She—being two and a half by generous estimates—didn’t even notice as she crossed a threshold from the surface city, to the hidden one. — She loses sight of the fun orb pretty quickly, but new wonders catch her attention pretty quickly as what once seemed to her to be a quiet city now explodes with light, life, and color. The toddler twirls around with wide eyes, trying to take in as much of her new environment as possible.

And boy is it a change from before. The surface city was quiet in its own way, save for the sounds of traffic and the occasional dog. She didn’t know, but it was late enough that it was now early, and while the City That Never Sleeps certainly lives up to its name, its comparatively sleepy early morning state can’t hold a candle to the sensory explosion of the underground city.

Giggling, she starts to run down the streets, weaving between the fascinating people walking around. She’s never seen such a fun place before! People walk around with extra sets of arms, horns, tails, wings, and all manner of skin colors and textures, and so much more!

The air smells of hot, spiced food, carts zoom through the air, pulled by creatures she can’t identify. Everything around her hums with life and energy.

It's exciting!

She pushes past two people to reach a balcony over looking a glittering city that follows the curves of the cavern and shining with all the colors of the rainbow.

She stands on the base of the railing though her chin only barely makes it over the top.

“Uh...who’s kid is that…?”

“Dunno. Do you see any panicked parent-looking types around?”

“Nah. Should we bother doing something?”

“Eh…it’ll work itself out. Long as they don’t bug me…”

Heedless, the toddler steps away from the balcony’s railing and continues to wander deeper into this fascinating new environment. — Baron Draxum is all around having a fairly rotten day. The Council of Heads has once again dismissed his concerns about the human threat and Big Mama has once again refused to release Lou Jitsu into his custody. Nothing seems to be going Draxum’s way today and it has left him in a foul mood.

So he’s going to indulge in a little of his favorite vendor food to help soothe his fraying nerves.

Just as he’s about to partake, something thumps into his legs harshly enough for him to stumble, nearly dropping his delectable indulgence and with it, the last shreds of his sanity.

He whips around, teeth bared in a menacing sneer at whoever was foolish enough to run into him. “Watch where you—“

Draxum's rage stutters as his eyes turn down towards the culprit. Sprawled on their back at his hooves is a toddler with two messy buns and a pair of overalls. A human toddler. Draxum wrinkles his nose in disgust as the wretched spawn blinks up at him with wide, dark eyes.

Draxum reaches down and picks the toddler up by the back of their clothes. They weigh very little. “How did you get in here, spawn?” He asks.

To his surprise—and annoyance—the spawn doesn’t answer. Instead, it lets out a shrieking laugh as it dangles from Draxum’s hand, feet kicking out wildly in the open air. It seems to enjoy being held like this, strangely enough.

Curious, Draxum glances around the mulling crowd. Various yokai go about their business, casting occasional curious glances in the direction of him and the human spawn, but none seem eager to claim it for themselves. From where he stands, Draxum spies no other humans in the crowd, and certainly no one that looks frantic enough to have misplaced this little creature.

Did it wander in her all on its own somehow? Draxum wonders.

An idea percolates in Draxum’s mind as he takes a bite of his food, looking over the tiny giggling human in his grasp. Perhaps, this could be an opportunity. After all, how often would Draxum be able to examine and study human behaviors from the outset of their infancy?

And more importantly, shape them. If some disgusting human couldn’t be bothered to keep a better eye on their own spawn, then perhaps it was better off with Draxum anyway.

Curiously, the spawn seems unperturbed by neither Draxum’s appearance nor the general sight of the Hidden City. It continues reaching for Draxum with pudgy hands, repeating the syllable “ba” over and over.

Draxum hums, mind made up. He takes a bite of his treat and then tucks the still giggling human-ling under his arm and walks off in the direction of his home and lab.

Perhaps if he’s lucky, this creature will become an excellent soldier. And wouldn’t it be ironic if the one to lead Draxum’s army to take back the surface world from those disgusting humans was human themself? He smiles a little at the thought. Yes, this may work out nicely.

——— As it turns out, raising a human spawn is harder than Draxum thought. Namely, the specimen—that Draxum has taken to simply calling Spawn—is the most disagreeable and stubborn creature humanity has ever produced. He has determined that Spawn is approximately two and a half years old and biologically of the female variety, but that is about all he was able to discern as Spawn refused to stay still for any further examination and forced Draxum to chase her through the lab, giggling the whole way as if they were playing a game. She may not be very fast on those unsteady legs of hers, but the clutter in Draxum’s lab makes catching her a chore whenever she darts through openings Draxum can’t pass through. Especially since the little creature seems to find Draxum’s frustration with her antics highly amusing.

On top of this, the Spawn refuses to stay in her containment cell during rest hours, either wailing until Draxum comes to quiet her or breaking out herself. Most often the latter.

Spawn spends most of the night crying. Draxum has stayed to observe Spawn as she sleeps to see what exactly causes her such violent distress. So far, he has observed no external stimulus that could be responsible for Spawn’s late night outbursts. His best hypothesis from his observations is that Spawn suffers from nightmares and seeks comfort from him in their aftermath.

Further complicating matters, Spawn is not at point in her development where she is capable of workable speech. The most she is capable of is repeatedly shouting “ba” at him and babbling incoherently as she tries to mimic what Draxum says himself.

Draxum sighs heavily, holding the squirming, giggly human ahead of him from under her arms. “It seems teaching you to speak will have to be our first priority,” he says.

“Prabababe,” she echoes, lightly slapping her hand against Draxum's wrist with her meager baby strength for emphasis.

“That’s right, little Spawn. Priority,” he says, repeating the proper pronunciation of the word the child is mimicking.

“Prabababe!” She cheers loudly.

He sets her down and pats her on her head as he turns to look for a notepad. He’ll have to make a trip to the library and start putting together a lesson plan. Perhaps he should pick up some books on child-rearing while he’s there. Raising a human spawn can’t be much different than raising a young yokai, right? Not that Draxum has experience with either, however.

And then suddenly, there's a cacophonous crash behind him, followed by the piercing sound of crying.

Draxum whips around so fast that his neck muscles cramp painfully. Spawn sits amid a pile of toppled weapons, a rather nasty cut on her right forearm, likely from a wayward blade. Tears leak from her face at an impressive rate as blood wells in the wound and dribbles down her arm, splattering across the floor and soaking into her clothes.

“Ah nuts!” He shouts, diving for the sobbing child.

She curls in on herself, pulling her injured arm close to her chest, further staining her outfit with the blood seeping from the wound, and burying her face into Draxum’s kimono as she wails. Draxum shudders involuntarily as he feels Spawn’s face fluids soak into his clothes.

“Spawn, cease this and let me inspect your injury,” he orders, prying her arm out so he can examine it.

The bad news is that it’s a fairly deep wound. The good news is that it’s also a clean one. While it speaks to the quality of the blade that caused it, it’s deep enough that this will doubtlessly require stitches.

Looks like I’ll need to put those somewhere she can’t reach, Draxum thinks as he digs through a drawer for his medical kit. A little difficult with a child in his arm, but not impossible.

He finds it tucked all the way in the back, of course. Regardless, Draxum retrieves the supplies and sets to work, all while cursing his past self for leaving him so ill-prepared.

Spawn continues to squirm and wail and cry, but Draxum doesn’t let her yank her injured arm away as he expertly stitches the long wound on her forearm closed and wraps it securely with sterile bandages. Fortunately, once Draxum completes the stitches, Spawn’s squirming lessens and her cries quiet down to blissful silence, though one punctuated by an occasional hiccuping sob. Still, it's a great deal better than the shrill wailing Spawn had committed herself to just moments ago.

His work completed and his subject thoroughly exhausted from her emotional display, Draxum sits back in his chair, staring indifferently at the mess of bandages and cleansing solution strewn over his lab table. As if sensing the opening in Draxum's defenses, Spawn wastes no time scooting herself off of the table and plopping gracelessly into Draxum’s lap.

“Hey!” He exclaims indignantly.

Predictably, the little creature pays no heed to Draxum’s protests as she curls up against his chest, gripping his robes with her tiny hands and tucking her wounded arm carefully against her own chest. And she soon falls asleep.

Draxum sighs lightly. “At least she’s finally quiet…” — Draxum swiftly returns a thoroughly exhausted Spawn to her containment cell. Detangling her is a bit of a challenge as her tiny hands are deceptively strong and grip his robes so tightly he’d momentarily feared they’d rip as he dislodged her. Tear tracks dry on her cheeks as she dozes against the pillows, the bandages covering her injury standing out starkly against the dark bedding. Even through the bandages, a faint light shines through, tracing the length of the injury.

The wound has a mystic quality to it that, Draxum concludes. He finds it odd, seeing as the chances of this random human toddler having mystic potential it laughably small. Most likely, that mystic quality came from whatever Spawn cut herself on.

“Still,” he muses quietly to himself. “It may be worth a look. Just in case.”

Packing away his medical supplies, Draxum turns his attention back to the pile of weapons he will need to find a new home for. Preferably out of a certain nosy—and fragile—human’s reach.

Over the course of his long life, Draxum has become steward of many interesting mystic weapons. Some owners return for their stowed weapons, but many never do for one reason or another. Usually it’s because they no longer need it or forget about it, but some are items of terrible power that are better off tucked away and hopefully forgotten by the inevitable march of time. Draxum can only hope that Spawn didn’t cut herself on one such weapon.

Finding the weapon doesn’t take long, as it’s the only one in the pile with bright red blood glistening along its edge.

“Hm. The odachi…,” Draxum muses, picking up the sword in one hand and reaching for the rag with another. “Not the worst possible outcome.”

He’ll have to keep an eye on Spawn for any adverse effects. The blade of this particular odachi is capable of cutting the fabric of space just as easily as it cuts flesh. Draxum can’t rightly say what might happen in this case, if anything at all. It’s doubtful--though not impossible under the right circumstances--that Spawn will gain powers like the odachi’s or lose parts of herself suddenly, but Draxum admittedly hasn’t cleaned the blade in some time, so it is a much greater possibility that Spawn could contract an infection rather than powers.

He’ll have to monitor the wound carefully as it heals. Both for infection and any...peculiarities.

Draxum wipes the blade clean and sets about gathering the weapons around his lab. He rather quickly finds himself eyeing the loose, breakable beakers of caustic chemicals littering the surfaces within reach for the heedless spawn now in his care.

Part of him now regrets his impulsive decision to take in such a small, fragile creature, but…hopefully the results will be worth the present headache.

(Next)

#void's writing #rottmnt oc: milo hamato #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtles #writing these had been really fun bc i am inflicting a literal toddler on draxum that fears neither man nor god #he strikes me as the kind of parent that would speak to an infant like he would an adult (which will be helpful as she learns how to speak)#draxum now has to figure out how to baby proof his lab lmao #I'm be posting one of these a day. right now we're in the 'prologue' territory #but i might skip around a bit when we hit the actual episodes as most aren't written yet :) (which is why im not posting these on ao3 yet)#yes. the odachi spawn cut herself on is THAT odachi that leo picks up fifteen years later #and yes. she gets a fun power from it :)#im interpreting the mystic weapons we see in the series as semi-sentient and in this instance; spawn accidentally formed a pact w the odach #what's the pact? uh...something to do w curiosity and exploration. spawn doesnt think in words so much as images and feelings

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