#we are every little fragment from every little moment that passes us by and we carry bits and pieces of all the people we have ever loved | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1104-am · 11 months

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giselle | just go

genre ; angst w/ a little fluff (if you squint) at the end 🫶🏻

pairing ; giselle x gn!reader

note ; this one is quite rushed! sorry :<

word count ; 1k+

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

the winter night was bustling with activity as people hurried through the frosty streets, their breath forming tiny clouds in the chilly air. the warm glow of streetlights cast a golden hue upon the pavement, and the distant sound of laughter and conversation added to the ambiance. you sat across from your girlfriend giselle in a cozy café, hoping for a moment of connection amidst the flurry of activity.

as you gaze upon giselle, you can't help but feel a surge of admiration for her beauty. but it's not just the physical appearance that enthralls you; it's the radiance she exudes from within. her presence lights up the room, captivating not only your eyes but also your heart and soul.

in this moment, as you sit across from her, you are reminded of the countless times her beauty has taken your breath away. it's a sight that fills you with a mixture of wonder, desire, and a profound appreciation for the privilege of being in her presence.

as you look at giselle, you couldn't help but notice her preoccupied demeanor. her attention was fixated on her phone, her fingers tapping away on the screen with an intensity that seemed to surpass her awareness of the world around her. the vibrant energy that once enveloped your relationship had faded, replaced by a growing sense of distance.

weeks had passed since you last felt the warmth of her presence, the comfort of her touch. what was once a regular routine of meeting almost every week had transformed into sporadic encounters, reduced to a couple or single text messages per week. the disconnection between you grew like an invisible wall, leaving you longing for the intimacy that once bound you together.

a sense of unease settled within you as you observed giselle's distant gaze. it was as if her attention was perpetually locked away in the digital realm, leaving little space for the shared moments that had once defined your relationship. each passing day, the distance between you seemed to stretch further, causing a heaviness to settle in your heart.

as the cafe hummed with activity, you caught a glimpse of giselle's phone screen. flashbacks flooded your mind, as fragments of memories pieced themselves together like a jigsaw puzzle. you remembered moments when you saw her texting someone else rather often, and occasions when you caught her deep in conversation on the phone. it was as if a secret world had been constructed, one that she tried to hide from you.

softly, you reached out, gently placing your hand on hers. "aeri, can we talk?” the sudden contact between her warm hand and your cold made her jump.

“hm? sure” she nodded slightly, locking her phone and placing it face down next to her drink. you sighed at this small thing she always does whenever she’s around you.

you sighed, “i've noticed a change between us lately, and i can't help but feel like something's been going on."

she tensed slightly, her eyes darting away as if trying to escape the confrontation. "oh, it's... it's nothing, really," she murmured, her voice laced with a mixture of guilt and hesitation.

you took a deep breath, your voice steady yet filled with vulnerability. "aeri, i care about you deeply. i want you to be honest with me. please, tell me what's been going on."

a flicker of apprehension passed through her eyes before she sighed, a sense of resignation in her voice. "y/n.. i’m ," she paused, looking at you for a mere second before darting her attention away. “i don’t think this is working anymore”

your heart sank, the weight of her words echoing within you. it was a painful admission, yet it brought a semblance of clarity to the tumultuous emotions you had been grappling with.

but then, as her guard crumbled, a question from you that caught her off guard surfaced. "it’s your ex isn’t it?" you continued, your voice barely above a whisper.

she wasn’t shock that you figured out, as she has been waiting for you to, and finally you did. "i haven't fully moved on from my past relationship. it's been holding me back, and i didn't know how to tell you."

your breath caught in your throat as her confession hit you like a sudden gust of wind. the realization that she still clung to a love that wasn't yours to share added a deeper layer of anguish to the already fragile state of your relationship. silence hit the both of you, as tears starts to well up in your eyes making it sting a little.

"aeri?" you broke the painful silence , your voice laced with vulnerability, "why?” you asks. giselle's eyes meet yours, her expression a mix of guilt, sadness, and regret. she opens her mouth to speak but finds herself unable to form the words.

instead, her eyes well up with tears that glisten in the dimly lit cafe. you feel your heartstrings snapping one by one at the sight of the girl you love looking at you with nothing but emptiness emitting from her gaze.

"it's okay," you say, your voice filled with a mix of resignation and sadness. "just go."

giselle's teary gaze meets yours, her heart heavy with the weight of your words. "i never wanted to hurt you," she whispers, her voice trembling. "it's just... things changed, and i made a mistake."

a bittersweet smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you reach a difficult realization. things didn’t change, it was like this since the beginning. knowing how she still has feelings for her past lover and yet still being in a relationship with you makes it feel like you squeezed yourself into a spot inside of her heart that is clear that there's someone else who fills it more fully.

giselle's tears flow freely now, her voice choked with emotion. "i'm so sorry," she murmurs, her words filled with regret.

you take a deep breath, the ache in your chest momentarily overwhelming. "just go, i’ll be fine" you say, your voice filled with a mix of longing and resignation.

the weight of your decision hangs heavy in the air, and as you watch giselle's tear-stained face.

giselle's fell, her voice trembling with emotion. "i never wanted to lose you," she whispered, her words barely audible. "but i understand if you can't stay."

you could only smile at her words. the weight of your decision settles within you, you find yourself unable to leave without one final moment of connection. with a tender gaze, you lock eyes with the girl in front of you, silently conveying a mixture of love, sorrow, and acceptance.

you rise from your seat, your heart heavy with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. with one last look at giselle, you utter your final words. "take care aeri," you say softly.

as you turn away and walk out of the cafe, the winter night embraces you with its cold embrace, mirroring the emptiness in your heart. though it hurts to let go, you carry a glimmer of hope that someday, in a different time and place, you will find a love that will stay, a love that will choose you without hesitation.

—

as the months slipped by, you slowly began to rebuild your life, piece by piece, in the aftermath of heartbreak. each day brought a glimmer of healing, but the memories of giselle still lingered, like whispers of a love that once was.

on an ordinary morning, as you hurried along the bustling streets, lost in your own thoughts, fate took a cruel twist. amongst the sea of faces, your eyes locked with giselle's, and time stood still. there she stood, hand in hand with her new (old) partner, a painful reminder of the love she had found in another's arms.

your heart clenched with a mixture of longing, sadness, and an ache that resurfaced from the depths of your being. it felt as though the ground beneath you had shifted, threatening to swallow you whole. in that moment, the weight of their happiness felt unbearable, an invisible weight pressing upon your chest.

giselle's eyes met yours, and for a fleeting instant, you saw a flicker of recognition, a glimpse of the shared history that had once bound you together. but as quickly as it appeared, it was masked by a veil of contentment, as if she had moved on completely, leaving you stranded in the wake of what could have been.

words escaped you as your mouth grew dry, your throat constricted by unspoken emotions. the air turned thin, as though suffocating under the weight of unfulfilled dreams and unanswered questions. you longed to reach out, to touch her, to remind her of the love you once shared, but the chasm between you felt impossibly wide.

you watched them walk away, their footsteps blending with the sounds of the bustling city. tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as you silently whispered the words you had kept hidden deep within your heart. "good for you" you murmured, your voice cracking with a mix of resignation and anguish.

the ache intensified as you realized that you had become an observer in the story of her life, a bystander to the love that had slipped through your fingers. it felt as though the world had conspired against you, presenting this heart-wrenching encounter as a cruel reminder of what you had lost.

slowly, you composed yourself, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. with a heavy heart, you continued on your path, the weight of their presence lingering in the air around you. the echoes of their laughter followed you, like haunting melodies that punctuated the silence of your own solitude.

as you were about to step into your workplace, lost in the aftermath of the heart-wrenching encounter with giselle and her new partner, fate intervened once again. a moment of serendipity disguised as a chance encounter. you collided with someone whose eyes held a glimmer of understanding.

“fuck! i’m so sorry” apologies spilled from your lips, a reflexive response to the unexpected collision. the girl in front of you stumbled a little, but luckily she caught her balance quite fast before turning to check on you.

her voice was gentle as she spoke, a voice that carried a comforting warmth. "are you okay?" she asked, concern evident in her eyes.

you managed a weak smile, touched by the genuine compassion in her words. "yeah,i’m fine! sorry.." you bowed your head slightly, voice laced with a mixture of vulnerability and resilience as you walk past the girl.

you gathered yourself together, about to proceed, when the girl’s voice called out to you. turning around, you saw the girl hurrying towards you, a hint of anticipation on her face. she reached you, slightly out of breath, and with a shy smile, she spoke up.

"before you go, can i know your name?" she asked, her cheeks tinged with a blush.

surprised by her sudden request, you couldn't help but be captivated by her genuine interest. you returned her smile, feeling a spark of connection between you.

"oh, sure" you replied, your voice filled with warmth. "it’s y/n" you flashed her a smile that made her blush.

“nice to meet you, i’m minjeong!”

#aespa #aespa imagine #aespa imagines #aespa oneshot #aespa x reader #kpop angst #kpop fluff #giselle x reader #aespa giselle

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tangledinink · 1 year

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Chapter Nine of I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? is up!!! With Donnie's help, Mikey makes some progress in his Hamato Ghost mission... read it on ao3 or below the cut!

[ prev ]

"Daddy! Daddy, look!"

Mikey was aware, dimly, that this was a memory. He could see that this excited child, racing to throw himself into his father's waiting arms, was just a younger version of himself. And though that was him, tiny and still new in the world, he watched the scene from above as a passive observer, floating above it all. For some reason, it didn't bother him. It didn't even seem strange.

"Watch! Watch what I learned how to do in class today!" His child self happily demanded, backing up out of his father's embrace, throwing his bag down and to the side. Once he was a suitable enough distance back, he wrinkled his nose with concentration as he moved into third position, the sides of his feet carefully pressed together and his arms held gently to the side. Mikey smiled a tiny bit from up above. How old had he been here? Maybe five?

After a moment of wavering, he moved, hopping across the floor in order to shift into a leap, his legs kicking out high, nearly parallel to each other, before gravity brought him back down and he landed neatly on the ground. And maybe this was kind of conceited, somehow, because he was watching himself, but even Mikey had been a little bit impressed. It wasn't polished by any means, but that was really good for a little kid. He had been told his whole life, ever since he started lessons, just how talented of a dancer he was. How wonderful he was at ballet, what a natural he was, blah blah blah. He was realizing now that hearing things like that was a very different experience than actually observing from an outside perspective.

He felt a dash of pride. But it was a shadow compared to his father. He could see from here that he was just beaming.

"Wow, Orange! Very impressive!" He praised, and the child practically squealed in response, grinning so wide that even Mikey’s cheeks hurt just from watching. Radiating sunshine. Warm.

"It's a Grand Jetty!" He announced proudly, and Mikey laughed. That was most certainly not the correct pronunciation. "It's just like the kicking we learned at the dojo, Daddy! Right!? That's why I'm so good at it," he declared, almost smugly, puffing out his chest a bit. "Because you taught me how to do it first!"

"Ah, yes," his father hummed, stroking his chin dramatically. "It must be my incredible teaching that makes you so talented! Yes, this makes perfect sense. I will accept full credit," he teased, and his son huffed loudly.

"Daddy! That's only part of why," he protested, grabbing onto his arms to kind of shake him a little, hanging onto his sleeve. His dad laughed.

"Okay, okay. I suppose I might be able to share credit. How about fifty-fifty?"

"Daddddddyyyy!"

"Sixty-forty?"

Mikey laughed. Both of them. Past and present; the memory and the dream. Because that's what this was, right? He wished he could get closer. He wished he could move and join them. He wanted to hang off of his dad's arm, too, to be close and laugh with him, instead of just watching from above. But he could never move.

He was only an observer. Because this was a dream. Wasn't it?

Mikey woke up.

He was starting to get used to the physically jarring re-entries into reality, as he could only assume that he had been floating up until a few moments ago... again. This had become a pattern now.

It had been eight days since they had last seen their father. But every night, he dreamt of him. At first, they were just dreams, just hodgepodge mixtures of memories and thoughts and feelings, all stitched together in an odd fragmented quilt, the way dreams usually were. The way his dreams always were. Strange and not meant to be navigated, just experienced. But the more time passed, and the harder they all pushed, clawing desperately and continually forward to try to find a way to reunite their family, the more the dreams shifted.

Every time now, they were memories. Flashes of his past-- some fuzzy and far off, echoing, but others in shocking clarity, so real and bright that he swore he was actually there. Most of these things he hadn't even thought about in years. He hadn't remembered showing his dad his Grand Jeté before now, the memory long buried and lost in his subconscious beneath mountains of time, like a crocus under snow. But he remembered it now. God, how many other things had he forgotten?

In every single dream, he was watching from up above, his father trapped down below him, reliving the past. He saw himself show off his ballet moves. He watched Dad refereeing their first ever ‘Lair Games.’ He recalled his father teaching him how to make rice. More than anything else, over and over and over again, he remembered Dad teaching them all martial arts, him and all three of his brothers together. And in every dream, Mikey always wanted to move closer, to reach out and grab him, but he never could. He could never get to him. So he always just watched, and he would see things that he had never noticed before. Now, he could see the way Dad's eyes glowed with pride whenever he complimented them, because he always meant it. He noticed how his brows always crinkled in the middle to form a crease whenever he was worried, the same way Raph's did. He saw how his body would dip with satisfied exhaustion in quiet moments.

Mikey laid silently in his bed, flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark star stickers he had put up there when he was four stared back at him. Or rather, that his father had put there on his behalf. His throat felt tight. He wondered when he was going to get used to waking up like this. He wondered if the grief was ever going to get easier. Because every night when he woke up it hit him like a goddamn train all over again.

He lingered for a minute or so, fighting off tears, and then laid there for a few more minutes, sobbing softly, his pillow shoved up against his face. And once he got through the worst of it, he rolled out of bed, dragging himself up to his feet and slowly plodding into the hall, wiping leftover tears from his face as he went.

This wasn't really a common occurrence, especially now that he was older, but in the event that he woke up in the middle of the night from a bad dream or a stomachache, he always took turns with which family member he would go find and climb into bed with. He could get something different from each of them. Dad would make him tea and lay with him until he fell asleep again. Leo would find some way to make him laugh and would play with the beads in his hair until he got drowsy. Donnie could always explain away anything that had scared him, always had tricks and solutions to offer. And from Raph, he could without fail find firm hugs and promises of protection that he knew he could count on.

He was heading in the direction of his oldest brother's room, his bare feet padding quietly against the hardwood, and was surprised to hear soft voices filtering from inside. He paused in his approach, leaning against the wall, focusing only on listening to the hushed conversation that just barely snuck through the cracked door.

"--trying." He only heard the tail end of whatever April was saying.

"I know they're tryin'. That's not the problem," Raph mumbled in reply, his voice sounding strained. "It's not like I blame them! I just. I just wish we had-- any kind of a lead. It feels like we're not gettin’ anywhere. All we're doing is finding more questions, and none of it’s helpin’ us find Dad! I mean, what am I supposed to do with this whole Hamato Destiny thing?"

"Hey, look. We'll figure it out, okay? It's not all up to you. Like, I know the whole... Hamato thing is, like... a lot, but... "

"It's not just that, April! I just. I don't know. I feel like it's… it’s dangerous. You heard some of the things that ghost guy was sayin'! I mean. Why else would Dad not tell us about any of it? It just... it just gives Raph a real bad feeling," Mikey could hear the hiss in his voice. He could almost see Raph's brow furrow into a crease. "I just. I dunno. I wish we never found the dumb thing," he laughed bitterly. "Isn't that crazy? I mean. Finding out you've got a magical destiny and powers or whatever the hell should be excitin', right? It should be cool."

"Maybe if you're in a book," April mumbled, and Mikey heard the bed creak, like her weight was shifting, like she was leaning into Raph, or wrapping her arms around him. "Look. Whatever happens, we're gonna figure it out, okay? But it's the middle of the night. You've gotta rest, dude! You're just as bad as Leo and Donnie. You guys have got to sleep."

"... I dunno..."

"We'll work on this more first thing tomorrow, okay? I'm sure we can figure something out. Right now, sleep. Big sister’s orders. Go the fuck to sleep."

There was more movement, more shifting, most likely April chasing Raph under the covers, but Mikey had kind of stopped listening. His chest felt kind of fluttery.

It probably wouldn't be very helpful if he walked in there now, huh? April was trying to get Raph to actually rest. He would just interrupt and worry Raph if he went barging in. And he was already, clearly, anxious enough on his own... And Leo and Donnie weren't sleeping very well either, were they? He already knew that. They all knew that. And they were all anxious.

So that probably wouldn't be a very good idea, either, would it? To go and wake them up and make them worry about him on top of everything else. To go and demand comfort from them when they probably needed it themselves.

And Dad wasn't home. So...

As quietly as he came, Mikey turned around, retreating back to his own room.

---

Leo used to be grateful every time he managed to fall asleep at night. But he was quickly becoming sick of it.

Move. Move. MOVE!--

And he must have, because he woke up with a start, his entire body jumping slightly. Same dream twice in a row? He wasn’t a huge fan, quite frankly, and he was really hoped this wasn’t the start of a pattern because it was pissing him the fuck off.

Leo groaned softly, his body feeling uncharacteristically sore as he rolled over onto his side. Please be in my own room. Please be in my own room. Please be in my own room--

“Leo?”

Nope.

Leo scrubbed at his face with his hands before slowly turning his head, glancing to the side. April and Raph were both staring at him as if he had just turned green. Leo thought quietly to himself that they could almost blend in with the eight-trillion stuffed animals Raph had piled up on his bed with how they were frozen, staring at him.

"Hey guys," he greeted as casually as possible, curling his lips back in a forced smile.

"Where the hell did you come from?!" Raph yelped, his eyes darting back and forth between his brother and the door, the door and his brother. "You just-- but we just-- I didn't see--"

"I don't know, okay!? I dunno!" Leo sighed loudly, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I was asleep about five seconds ago, I have no idea how I got here. I thought maybe I was sleepwalking."

"Sleep ninja-ing, more like!" Raph gawked. "How did you get in here without us seein’ or hearin’ you? I mean. I didn't-- I didn't even see the door open, you just--"

"Okay, uhm," April bit her lower lip, rolling to flop down on her stomach on Raph's bed, propped up on her elbow. "Look, you guys know I hate to be the one to suggest magic Hamato powers, buutttt..."

"I really don't wanna talk about it," Leo grumbled, slowly sitting up and rolling his shoulders.

"Ooh, wait!" April gasped. "This is totally how you ended up in Mikey's room last night, isn't it?!"

"Well--"

"Ooh, and then you got on his ass about floating? He is gonna be pissed--"

"Do not tell him!"

"You sure you're alright?" Raph questioned, and Leo could just hear the worry in his voice. Ugh, this was so not his goal, and so not what he needed right now...

"I'm fine," Leo insisted. "Seriously. It's not a big deal. I'm not hurt. I didn't even leave the house! Sooooo, sorry for barging in, my bad, now, uh, I'm just gonna..."

"Leo," April said, and Leo whined a bit, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling in quiet despair 'cause she was using her big-sister-voice. "Quit pretending like you're not just gonna end up sleeping here tonight and just c'mere already."

Ugh. Dammit. He didn't want to. I mean. He did. But also... He didn't... But...

"Fine," Leo grumbled, turning to slink over to Raph's bed, crawling in to join the other two. Luckily, Raph's bed was big enough that there was space for himself, his brother, his sister, all of Raph's Build-A-Bears, and then some. One of the perks of having a huge older brother, he supposed.

He hoped this wasn't gonna turn into a habit.

---

Trust was essential for any cohesive unit to work properly. Without trust, there would be no success, no forward momentum, no unit to begin with. Casey knew this perfectly well. She had known it for most of her life. And truly, she did trust her leaders. Over the many years, she had never once questioned their wisdom or the reasoning behind their decisions. She had always been happy to blindly follow, to obey, to leap at their command without thinking or seeing because they said to, and to trust that they would not send her anywhere without the wellbeing of the clan's future in mind. Even when they weren't thinking of hers.

But Baron Draxum? Casey did not trust Baron Draxum.

And she hated that she didn't! She wanted so desperately to have faith in the Foot Clan's glorious leaders and their newest plan to recover the Dark Armor. They had never led them wrong before, (mostly,) and she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but...

Something was off.

She couldn't quite pin this guy down. They brushed elbows rarely, and when they did, it wasn't as though she disliked him. She could appreciate a guy who knew what he wanted and pushed towards their goal without compromise, and she definitely found coffee runs to be much more enjoyable after he had tagged along that first time. Truly, she had been doing it all wrong. But there was just... something...

And she didn't know what. That was the worst part about it. It wasn't as simple as suspecting the newest recruit. She didn't feel, per se, that he would betray the Clan, or that he had ulterior motives, though she was sure that he did, but every time he was around, something in the back of her brain just twitched and wriggled, incessant and annoying and horridly persistent.

But she trusted her senseis. The plan, on paper, was quite good. Baron Draxum was a powerful criminal and wielder of devastating mystics. Each day they seemed to grow stronger. He had an enemy in the Hamato Clan, and of course, so did they. It made perfect sense that they would work together to gather the Dark Armor and bring the Foot Clan's Master back to power. He was an irreplaceable ally to the Foot and an essential part of their plan. He assisted in retrieving the scattered pieces of the armor. They assisted in providing lab equipment and spell components to restore his mystic powers. And they assisted each other in plotting the destruction of the Hamato bloodline, once and for all, and soon, they would strike.

So why did her gut twist like this when she was around him? She ground her teeth in frustration, squaring her shoulders and resisting the urge to glare at him from across their lair as he conversed with the clan's leaders. Was it jealousy? She had, admittedly, been training under the Foot Clan since she was ten, and there was a slight sting to watching him rapidly rise through the ranks above her, despite his short stint within their organization. But that wasn't it, either. Or at least, not all of it. Her eyes climbed upwards to the altar where the unfinished Dark Armor was displayed. Already, they were nearly halfway complete. Cassandra had never dreamed that they could make such rapid progress, but with Baron Draxum's aid, things were going, quite frankly, swimmingly.

She should be thrilled.

So what was it that they were missing?

---

He knew that he needed to get up.

He was fully aware. He was so deeply, desperately, nearly violently aware that he needed to get up. It was the morning. He had already been laying here for over an hour. His kids would be awake soon. They would be hungry. They would want food and attention. No, rather, need food and attention. He thought bleakly to himself that all they had were canned beans and jars of baby food right now, anyway. Lots and lots of canned beans and jarred baby food, at least, but not exactly the variety of nutrition a parent might hope for. He wondered if Raphael was old enough to work a can-opener. And then he thought to himself that Raphael was hardly even three, by his best calculations, so probably not.

You have to get up, he bade, scolding himself. You cannot keep laying here until they come to get you or cry. They are counting on you. Come on. Get up, you lazy, stupid rat! It is not even difficult. All you need to do is get out of bed. Remember when you used to wake up before the sun to go on runs? Remember when you used to begin training before the crack of dawn? What happened to that Yoshi?

God, he wished he knew. But that Yoshi wasn't here now. He grunted softly, turning just enough to bury his face in his pillow. He must have slept on and off for at least ten hours, but the exhaustion clung to his bones regardless. His stupid little rat bones. He wondered if that was ever going to go away. He wondered if this was a side-effect of the mutation, or if it was just a personal failing on his own part. Perhaps turning into a rat would shorten his lifespan. Perhaps, any day now, he would pass away from old age. He certainly felt old. The thought might have given him some comfort if it weren't for the four toddlers relying on him in their entirety for survival, sleeping soundly just across the room. If you could call the space they occupied 'rooms' at all.

The wails of a child, which he immediately pinned as Mikey, split the thick, musty silence of the sewers, and Yoshi grit his teeth with frustration. He continued to lay in bed for another full minute before he got up to go and fetch him, and he resented himself for each and every one of those sixty seconds. What kind of person listens to a hungry child cry like that?

"I'm here. I am here, Orange," he did his best to soothe as he shuffled his way around the corner, scooping the youngest from the cardboard box they slept in each night, filled with fluffy towels and shredded paper to make a ‘bed.’ Mikey still whined, but quieted a bit, clinging to his fur with chubby three-fingered hands, yanking himself up into his father’s arms.

Yoshi could admit that they were odd-looking children, with their scaled green skin and shelled backs, little claws tipping each finger. But it wasn't as if he didn't look quite odd as well. And though he had at first not been so sure about what exactly they were, or what to call them, as time had passed he had grown quite confident that they were, in fact, children, regardless of how they might look, or any turtleish qualities or habits they may have. Sometimes he even thought that they looked a bit like him, or perhaps acted a bit like him. But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

He had never imagined himself as a father before. Sure, there had been that one pregnancy scare with Crystal Yistal, but then it had just turned out to be a stomach bug and he had been more than happy to abandon any previous thoughts of raising a child.

He had definitely not imagined it like this.

With Mikey still on his hip, he got Purple and Blue up next, coaxing them out of their shared box, and then Red as well. He noted dimly that his biggest was rapidly outgrowing his current sleeping place, and he would have to get him something new soon. He kept meaning to find them something proper to sleep in besides literal boxes, but he had yet to manage to do so... Just another item on an endless list of to-do's that he never seemed to be able to get out from under. When they were still so tiny, small enough to fit in the palms of his hands, boxes had felt reasonable! But now that they were more akin to toddlers than turtles, it felt less appropriate.

They were children. Surely he could figure out something better than this… one of these days.

He slowly herded the group to the 'kitchen,' as he referred to it in his head, busying himself with preparing breakfast for the four. The area they occupied was not very big, only consisting of a few tunnels. There were more, sure, but Yoshi made it a point not to allow his children into any space that he wasn't confident was safe. He knew that they were too cramped, and it was not enough room for four growing children, and really, he was meaning to address it. He had every intention of taking the time to clear more space of any potential hazards so they could have a bit more room to run around, perhaps find some sort of proper furniture if he could, some more toys or decorations of some kind, he just...

Hadn't gotten to it yet.

Maybe the next time we go out to find more food, he thought wearily, doling out meals to his children who were old enough to eat on their own, and feeding those who weren't, balancing Mikey on his lap. He wasn't especially hungry if he was being honest, and skipping meals meant what food he could procure lasted longer, so he figured it was basically a win-win. He had gotten better and better at obtaining resources for them as the months had gone by, but it was still difficult on a bad day. Things would wax and wane now. There were times when he would suddenly feel as if his energy had returned, his motivation and drive renewed, and he would get as much done as he possibly could-- fixing things that needed to be fixed, finding supplies that he knew they needed, looking over anything of concern that needed to be addressed as quickly as he possibly could to take full advantage. But they never seemed to last as long as they needed to.

Most days were like this.

He was dimly aware of his children babbling things to him, occasionally making comments or asking questions to him, and he responded to them on autopilot. Yoshi still sometimes had a hard time understanding what Leo was saying. He would just nod along in these cases, and it usually worked well enough. Raph would translate if he wasn't getting it. He was only a bit better with his words, but he spoke much slower than Blue did.

“Daddy,”

“Yes, Blue.”

“Daddy!”

“I am listening.”

“... Purple?”

“Yes, Purple is here too. I see him. He’s sitting right next to you, see?”

Leo turned slightly to look at his brother, who was far more interested in breakfast than him, smiling contently and giving an enthusiastic nod now that he had re-confirmed his twin’s continued existence.

“Yeah!”

“Yes, and Red and Orange as well.”

“He little.”

“Yes, your brother is still very little, isn’t he?” He sighed.

“No,” Mikey mumbled. That was about the only word he knew so far besides “Dada,” but it was by far his favorite thing to say. Besides just screaming. Oh, Orange loved to hear himself. Yoshi was quite convinced that he often did it just for the joy of creating noise.

“Yeah! You are,” Leo insisted.

“No,” Mikey yelled this time, and Yoshi sighed.

“Ah, yes, but he will grow and get big, just like you and Purple and Red, won’t he?” He hummed. God, he knew they would. Hadn’t it just been yesterday that he could carry them all in one arm? They had been so tiny, and they had gotten big so fast. Especially Raph-- he was like a damn weed with how quickly he was shooting up. He almost wished they were still that small… It had certainly been much easier to keep track of them back then. It was a nightmare any time he had to venture out of the tunnels now, trying to keep four little turtle tots in tow and making sure no one went tottering off on their own or started touching things they weren’t meant to.

“I’m big,” Leo confirmed with a firm little nod, looking satisfied with this, turning his attention back to his breakfast. The rest of the meal was quieter, allowing Yoshi the time to focus on making sure everyone ate and got their fair share. Leo sometimes got distracted talking and didn’t eat, which he had to keep an eye on… But for at least a few blissful moments, things were calm and peaceful, with all his little boys gathered around him, munching on their breakfast. It wouldn’t last, however, naturally, and once Leo was done with his food, he quickly had a new focus.

"Daddy," Leo chirped excitedly, grabbing onto his dad's arm and shaking it. Breakfast was apparently over. "Play?!"

Oh god. His entire body ached with exhaustion at the simple thought.

"How about we watch a movie?" He said. Each time he suggested this alternative, his sons’ enthusiasm seemed to lessen, but they still agreed to it each time. Thank god. They didn't have a lot, (especially since their last 'home' was flooded out about five months back, at which time they had lost most of their possessions,) but the family had to their name a small, blocky television, a VHS tape player, and a dozen or so different titles to choose from. Splinter had figured out quite some time ago how to mess with the few breaker boxes down here until they could access electricity in a select few locations, but they still currently only had one single outlet that actually supplied any power. More often than not, this one functional plug powered their little television.

He selected a VHS at random to put on, settling down in the lawn chair they had in front of it, gathering all four of his children up in his lap. Oh lord, Raph was getting too big for this. Or he was getting too small. He had long suspected he was shrinking.

Admittedly, he knew that "The Mantis at Midnight" was not exactly age appropriate. But he didn't get to pick and choose which VHS tapes he could scrounge up, and he could only watch the one Scooby-Doo tape that they owned so many times. He recognized it as selfish on his part, but he was quite certain his brain would melt.

Next time, he told himself. Next time they ask to play, we will play. We will do something. I will not just put on another movie.

But even now, he didn't believe himself.

He was always doing that, wasn't he? Saying he would take care of things or change, and then never following through.

He had hoped that he would be able to find some alternative option, some way out of his deal before the deadline came. But of course, he hadn't. And now here he was.

The leg of his opponent passed no more than an inch before his eyes, Yoshi ducking down and out of the line of fire in just the nick of time. He grit his teeth, dancing quickly to the side and away from the next strike that he knew was coming, trying to allow himself the distance to anticipate the coming attacks and dodge those, too. For the second time in a rather short period of time, he wished desperately that he had not let his fitness routine fall to the wayside all these years. There were so many cramps. So, so many cramps.

He wasn't able to dodge the next blow, much to his frustration, only to block it, his own arm flying up to catch his opponent's foot and deflect. He took no real damage, but it still hurt. He was layered with so many bruises and bumps and scrapes from the past week that he was beginning to feel like an impasto painting, with nothing having the time to heal properly before new work was piled on top of it. He was sure Big Mama was thrilled with the reaction his debut had earned. The Nexus was packed each and every day. This demand, of course, meant that his performance schedule was quite full.

The spotted feline yokai flitting before him surged forward, leading with her chest as she sliced through his defenses and into the close-combat zone that she was best suited for, the best-suited position for her to finish things-- this would have been very bad news indeed if Yoshi had not already anticipated this. His knee thrust sharply upward to catch her jaw just as she moved in for the kill, a sharp crunch sounding between them, her head lurching back at an absolutely sickening angle. Yoshi inwardly winced. Not just because it hurt his knee, but because he knew that if it hurt his knee, it had to be much worse for her.

She crumpled to the ground. He quickly jumped backward, looking to put some distance between the two of them. It had been a solid blow, he knew, one that could and had ended many fights in the past, but he was not foolish enough to simply trust that she would go down and leave himself exposed. Not here. He knew much better than that.

There was a beat of silence. It hung heavy in the air for one, two, three seconds, with every single soul in the stadium waiting to see if she would get back up.

The referee above waved a red flag, and the entire Battle Nexus erupted into deafening cheers. Oh, thank god. He had been... a bit worried about this one.

He may be the undefeated champion, but he was not as young as he used to be. This challenger, in particular, had put up a wicked fight. He privately hoped that she would recover, but not well enough that he would have to face her again, and then felt awful for thinking such things. But if he were being perfectly honest with himself, he hadn't been so sure he would be able to win this fight.

His entire body wept in protest as he stood his ground, his shoulders squared and his back straight, trying to give an air of confidence. He resisted the urge to bend, to rest his hands on his knees and wince and inspect the damage before the next fight. He knew Big Mama didn't appreciate such behavior. Something about ratings and appearances.

And he didn’t like it. But if his sons' safety depended on his career as the reigning Battle Nexus champion, well, then...

He threw up his arms, and the crowd screamed in response, the roaring of cheers reaching a wild crescendo.

"Who's next?!"

---

"Look. I already said I don't wanna talk about the Hamato Destiny anymore," Mikey sighed deeply. "I already listened to you talk for, like... so long about this." Not that any of it made any real sense. What the heck was a Twilight Realm? Or a Kuroi Yōroi...? He really was trying to pay attention, but it was all just so... jumbled and weird and, uh. Honestly a lot. "I wanna talk about finding my Dad. That was the deal. I listen to you, and then you help me."

Ghost-Sensei, as they had taken to calling them, seemed a bit annoyed at being cut off, which only frustrated Mikey more.

"We have already explained that we are not aware of Hamato Yoshi's current location--"

"I know! I know that. You told us that. Many times," Mikey sighed, resisting the urge to snap. He usually had so much more patience than this, and he was trying really hard to get it together, this was just... really, really frustrating. And also the fifth time he had tried to talk to these guys. "And that's... fine. But. I mean. You guys have got to know something that can help us. Like... don't you know him? Is there anyone who would want to hurt him, or... do you know where they might take him? And can we use any of these... mystic power things to get in contact with him or something?"

Ghost shook their head. "The Hamato Clan has many enemies," they reported. "And many members of the Clan have been hunted over our history. But without proper training in the Hamato ways and the art of ninpo, you will not be able to contact him... especially given that his own training was never completed, and his ninpo remains locked. It would be incredibly difficult to accomplish. Assuming, of course, that he is still alive to begin with."

Mikey's head jerked slightly, his face flushing ruddy and dark.

"Don't say that!" He snapped. "Unless you know that he's dead and you know where we can find his body, then don't you dare say that!!! We're gonna find him!!! Whether or not you help!"

He grit his teeth, hunching his shoulders slightly.

"Why won't you help? If there's a way to mystically contact him, why won't you just teach me that?"

"This is a very advanced technique... That alone would take many months of training to learn, and to jump straight to such lessons while neglecting the basics that come before--"

"We can do the basics later! I promise we'll do the basics later! We don't have time right now!" Mikey pleaded. "I swear I can learn. Just teach me, and I'll figure it out! I know I'm not as smart as Leo or Donnie are, but you could teach them instead if you want! And then we'll learn whatever else you want, and do all the destiny stuff--"

"Michelangelo," the spirit leaned in closer. Mikey hated how empty their eyes always looked. "You have great potential. You have more connection to the mystic energies of the universe than any of your brothers do, and you have every opportunity to be a truly remarkable warrior indeed... but this does not change the reality of the situation. To be a Hamato is to sacrifice. And it is a terrible burden for us to bear," they sighed deeply. "But it is all a part of the great honor and destiny we share, which ties us all together. You are not like other people, Michaelangelo. You and your brothers were not put on this earth to live an easy life. None of us were. We do not exist for ourselves. We exist for the survival of the world."

Mikey felt like he was going to throw up. His body felt all shaky and numb, even though he was holding himself steady.

"I'm not asking for an easy life," he whispered. "I'm just asking for our Dad back. He's part of the world, too."

Ghost-Sensei pulled away, sighing deeply. "I know that this can be a difficult thing to accept," they said gently, in such a kind, soft tone that it made Mikey's chest twist with resentment. "Perhaps you need time to come to terms with this."

And just like that, Mikey was alone in the room.

The tears trickling down his freckled face became proper sobs soon enough, bending down to rest his head against his knees, his chest pressed across his thighs as he wept for a short while. He was getting pretty tired of crying about this, but it caught him by surprise every time. He was upset in a million different ways. He knew that these people knew more than they were letting on, he just knew it... and they wouldn't even let him try to learn these 'Hamato techniques.' Every time he talked to them, he just walked away with more questions than before, and with this trembling, hollow feeling occupying his skeleton.

Was this how Dad grew up? Taught that his life was something on loan to him-- not truly his, just something to trade away to a world that, seemingly, wasn't even aware of their sacrifice to begin with?

Because that sucked. Like... so much. And now they didn't even seem to care about him anymore.

I could learn, if you just gave me a chance, he thought bitterly. You said I have potential. But you won't even let me try...

He sighed deeply through his nose. Not only that... he had more connection to the 'mystic energies of the world' than the rest of his brothers. For some reason, this made Mikey frown. Once upon a time, if someone had told him something like this, he would have beamed, flipped his hair, and agreed that of course he did. His intuition was obviously off the charts, his creative finesse was something to be envied, and his therapist had been calling him an 'empath' since back before it was a cringe thing to say...

But now it just made his stomach flip-flop. He knew he wasn't the only one, but lately, he was questioning... everything. Every time they uncovered something new, it was like there was this little voice in his head that was wailing. It was, like... God. What else didn't he know? What else was he missing?

Frowning to himself, he quietly shut the chest again, shoving it back under their Dad's bed before getting to his feet and wandering out into the hall. He wasn't exactly sure where his feet were taking him at first, but he made his way up one flight of stairs, and then another, and eventually, he was knocking on Donnie's door, cautiously peeking his head inside.

When Donnie turned from his computer to face him, he seemed annoyed at first, but his expression softened quickly at the sight of his little brother.

"Hey Mikey," he hummed, kind of gesturing for him to come in, which he did. "Any luck with the ghosts?"

"Not really," Mikey admitted, frowning as he shut the door behind him, wrapping his arms around himself in a sad imitation of a hug as he trudged over to the other, plopping down on his bed to sit. "They don't want to tell me anything. They just wanna talk about old stories about evil creatures and the Twilight Zone and a bunch of other stuff I don't understand. But every time I try to talk to them about Dad, they shut me out."

Donnie sighed loudly, wrinkling his nose. "Yes. Well. I suppose we can't expect it to be easy..." they muttered. "Unfortunately, I'm not having the best luck myself. Everything I'm finding so far just seems... incomplete. Like I'm missing something, some sort of component..." He frowned, leaning over his desk, his cheek squished up against his palm. "I have all this data, but I have no idea how to make any of it work for us. I'm sure that there's some piece I'm missing that would make all this make sense, I just... I have no idea where it is. Or where to find it," he growled.

Mikey sighed a little, flopping down on his side, drawing his legs up to his chest. "Yeah," he muttered. "... I know that we have, like... mystic powers, or whatever. But I don't have any idea how any of it works, and Ghost-Sensei won't teach me. He keeps saying we have to learn 'the basics' first. But we don't have time for the basics," he whined softly. "If they gave me a chance, I know I could figure it out, I just..."

Donnie smiled a tiny bit, glancing over at the other. "You have always had an uncanny knack for those guessing games," he teased gently.

"I'm serious, Dee!" Mikey protested, bristling a bit. "I think I could. I mean. I know I could. I know that this kind of stuff isn't your thing, and I don't expect it to-- I mean--"

He paused, his sentence caught in his throat for just a moment before he turned suddenly to meet his brother’s eyes.

"Donnie, do you see colors?"

Donatello's brows pinched with confusion, his mouth wrinkling slightly. "Uh. Yeah. Of course I see colors. What does that have to do with anything?"

"No, not like that! I mean-- I mean, do you see colors on people? Like. Do you see people's colors? Like. What do you think my colors are?"

Donnie raised a suspicious brow, looking his brother up and down. "... Your colors? I mean... you have brown skin. And your hair is mostly black, except you bleached the tips... your shirt is black..."

"No," Mikey said sharply. "No, Dee, I'm orange."

"Well, I mean, yeah, your bandana is orange, and your pants are orange..."

"I'm not talking about clothes, Dee," Mikey insisted with a sigh. "I'm talking about me. About all of me. Like-- Like, I'm orange. And you're purple. Even if you weren't wearing any purple at all, you'd still be purple. Every time I look at you, I see that you're purple," he pressed. "The same way Dad is white, and April is green, and Carol is yellow. Everyone is totally different! Like-- like your purple and Mrs. Evanway’s purples are different, it’s all totally unique and, and--"

Mikey could feel Donnie's eyes boring into him. He frowned, curling up a bit tighter.

"Look, I know I always talk about, like, our life colors and stuff. And when I was little, I always just thought that that was just something that everyone saw! Especially 'cause Dad has the nicknames, so I just thought... And then eventually I realized that maybe it wasn't, and it might just be me. But any time I ever mentioned it people would act like I was joking or just ‘being Mikey’ or whatever, so I never really... pushed it. I just thought it was this weird thing I did and it didn't mean anything, so I never really talked about it that much, but now I, I dunno, with all this crazy mystic stuff and energies and all that these ghosts are talking about, it feels like, like maybe it might be real? Like, actually for-real real, and I know it sounds weird, and I know it's not your thing, and I know it's not gonna help us, but--"

He finally dared to look back up at his brother, only to be surprised to find Donnie busying himself with opening up a spreadsheet on one of his many computer monitors, hunching over their keyboard to type furiously for a moment.

"Uh... Donnie?"

"Okay," Donnie said, whipping back around to face him, his glasses nearly falling off his nose. "What color was the guy who took Dad?"

[ next ]

#sorrywhatnowau #sorrywhatnow fic #tmnt #tmnt human au #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fic #fanfic #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt human au

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improvised-finish · 2 months

Note

sign - for the single word drabble prompt!

(This kinda got away from me a bit! I'd had some thoughts in a lore dump document about how civilian Lehon'a realized she was trans, and I wanted to get into the details a bit more, and... 1000+ words later, here we are.)

There was no mistaking this feeling. This was where Lehon’a was supposed to be.

The group of performers he traveled with had made it as far as the Observatorium in central Coerthas before it became too much to ignore. He’d implored the director for a bit of time away.

I have to go. I don’t know I can explain why, but I need to go.

Next performance is in two days. Be at the Gates before then.

Okay. I will.

He’d taken off into the snow right after, determined to not waste a second of that time.

—

As the sun set on the second day, he feared even every second might not have been enough.

Checking the very crude map he’d hastily copied down two nights prior, it looked like he’d been just about everywhere, save for one far off corner: Providence Point.

He’d been avoiding it for a reason: the stories he’d heard of the cruelty perpetrated at Witchdrop just gave him the creeps, and even just passing by a place like that was not something he wanted to do, if he could help it.

Unfortunately for him, it looked like he no longer could help it.

—

He’d grabbed a bit of lantern fuel and a small ration bar from a merchant in Camp Dragonhead, hopefully just enough to get up to the Steel Vigil and back before it got too late. With a lantern raised, he ventured out once more into the wilds of Coerthas, determined to find where this feeling came from.

—

As he trudged past the gaping maw of the canyon he’d hoped to avoid, a chill came over him, cutting through the layers of furs keeping him insulated against the cold. On any other occasion, this alone would’ve turned him back to camp, but this burning desire overrode his baser fears. He quickly said an old miqo’te prayer for the dead under his breath, and continued up the slope.

—

The crumbled spires of the Steel Vigil slowly emerged from the night as he approached, serving as a fork in the path. To the east, a large cave stretched out behind what appeared to be the frozen remnants of a waterfall; the oversized icicles above its entrance gleamed in the moonlight. But to the west, something else had caught his eye: the light of Ishgard itself. He turned to hike the rest of the way up the ridge, the full height of the city coming into view as he reached the crest.

Lehon’a stopped to take it all in, a pang of sadness hitting him as he realized that the city was where he was likely to be tomorrow, without any of the answers he sought. As he readied himself to head back to camp, a glimmer of light from something else caught his eye. It was one of the cairns; the largest one that sat between two smaller ones. He approached, and as he drew closer, he realized it was the light of the moon reflecting off something carved into the middle stone.

It was the mark of Menphina.

Of course. Of course it would be Her.

Lehon’a slowly dropped to a knee out of respect, trying to recall any of the prayers his mother used to say. He could recall fragments, bits and pieces, but nothing complete. In lieu of anything better, he decided it was best to be honest.

“What am I- Why am I here? What is this feeling? I… I’m grateful for your protection, but I’m… confused,” Lehon’a said to the empty air, eyes closed and head bowed.

He sat in silence for a moment, feeling a bit foolish for expecting anything to happen. Just as those doubts began to creep in, he heard a voice.

“Oh, my love, you’re here at last.”

Lehon’a’s eyes flew open and he immediately whipped his head around, trying to locate the source of the voice in the dark. There was nothing there to greet his vision, however, save for the moonlight on the snow, which seemed to glow a little brighter.

“Daughters like you are hardest to reach, but you heeded my signs well, and for that I am grateful.”

Lehon’a felt that word cut straight to his core. Daughter. It cut through all of the walls he’d put up, all the excuses and rationalizations he’d built around himself, and hit something he didn’t know was there. It seemed only natural that he lashed out in response. “Daughters like me? Look, I think there’s been some kind of mix-up, ‘cause if you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a girl, much less a Daughter,” Lehon’a replied, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible. Even if I wish I were.

“Oh, is that really the truth? Be honest with yourself, Lehon’a.”

“It’s… the truth I’ve lived with all my life, so does it matter?” Lehon’a had intended for it to sound snide, but it ended up a genuine question, subconsciously pleading for any sort of affirmation that would break down his defenses.

“I can see into your heart, and to me, that is what matters most. Your heart says you’re a Daughter of the Moon, and so you shall be, my darling.

The final wall had come crumbling down. Lehon’a looked up to the moon in the sky, tears filling her eyes.

“Should you ever fear the dark of night, find solace in the moon’s light, and know I watch over you. Farewell, my love. You’ll be in my heart always.”

Lehon’a fell back into the snow, sobbing. It felt like a dam that had held for years within her had burst open, and all the emotion came rushing out at once. Of all the things for this to be, of all the things for Her to say, this truly was what she needed the most.

She spent a long time gazing into the night sky, just trying to organize her thoughts. What will my mother think? What do I do about this? Is there anyone I can even tell about this? All questions that would need answers, but not right here, not right now.

Some minutes later, Lehon’a pulled herself up from the snow and grabbed her pack from where it had fallen. She knelt in front of the mark of Menphina for a moment and offered her quiet gratitude. “Thank you. For everything.”

She had knelt as a son, and risen as a Daughter.

#ffxiv #lehon'a nhavareh #keeper of the cadence #ffxiv oc #my wol #menphina #sometimes we need help figuring out who we are #and don't worry her mom is very supportive! she'll show up in other stuff and be great #trans wol #prompt reponse

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pinkyeongs · 11 months

Text

the long lost adeptus

chapter one/ kind of a prologue?

-cross uploaded on wattpad @pe3eechy might also add to ao3

in the heart of liyue harbor, nestled within weathered stone walls and cloaked in an air of mystery, stood the library. its ancient oak doors creaked with anticipation as visitors stepped across the threshold, entering a realm where everyone seemed to hold their breath. y/n wondered if anyone else had noticed this. noticed that the staff here always had the right things to say, never said too much, never too little. sunlight, filtered through stained glass windows, painted kaleidoscopic patterns on the mosaic-tiled floor, casting an ethereal glow upon the hallowed space. the air hummed with the whispers of countless generations, as if the very knowledge held within those shelves yearned to be heard once more. she was on a quest for answers, seeking to unravel the enigma that had consumed her thoughts for months. she had turned this library inside out searching for what she knew it held, what she knew this country was hiding. it had been weeks of doing this. but with every page turned and every sentence dissected, she found herself slipping deeper into a realm of uncharted mystery.

it didn't used to be like this. it all started with a harmless assignment from her professor on the rich history of liyue. as she delved deeper into her research, she began to notice peculiar gaps within her country's recorded history, there were unexplained absences and inconsistencies that gnawed at her inquisitive mind. she wondered why no one else had questioned this prior to now, she took a moment to ponder and only found blame for her own ignorance. it had been 18 years of her living within liyue. her whole life spent within the mountains and the harbor, yet she had never asked herself where it all started. she had heard talk about gods from outsiders from mondstat when she was child, but not long after that lady ningguang issued a non emigration order amongst the people, y/n hadn't seen another outsider since. she heard talk between the elders of liyue, comparing this new law to a far away country called inazuma. y/n has always considered herself an educated young woman, enjoying the time she spent reading, and studying. she had never once considered herself to be ignorant, well that is until now.

y/n continued to dig deeper, unearthing fragments of truth that had long been buried. with each passing day and every fruitless search within the library's ancient tomes, her frustration grew. the answers she sought seemed to slip through her fingers. it became evident that the truth she sought could not be confined within the inked pages alone. she ventured beyond the hallowed halls of the library, determined to find alternative sources of information. her inquiries led her to the elders of liyue. she sought them out, their wrinkled faces a testament to the passage of time, hoping they held the key to the secrecy that has overcome liyue.

"come, my child, sit by the fire and listen closely. I shall share with you the tales of our land, of the gods who once protected us."

"thank you, elder. i am eager to understand the truth." y/n said, anticipating the truth. "long ago, when we were young and the land was vibrant, our ancestors revered a pantheon of an archon. their names were whispered with reverence, their deeds celebrated in songs and dances."

"who were these gods, elder? what were their names and what powers did they possess?" she questioned.

"ah, their names still echo in the winds of time. many are still among us today, it is due to lady ninggaung that the city of liyue relishes in such ignorance of it's history." y/n was not surprised by this, after all of the research she had conducted within the previous weeks, the relentless shadiness of the millelith and the ruler of liyue was apart for anyone to see. y/n opned her mouth to question, but the elder beat her to it. "i still do not know the exact reason our archon has abandoned us, and why lady ninggaung refuses to speak of it. we were only children at the time."

y/n's face twisted in confusion, "but they are gods are they not? who is lady ninggaung to completely banish a god from it's rule?"

he sighed, "time took its toll, my dear. as generations passed, belief in the gods waned. people became consumed by doubts and skepticism, forgetting the sacred bonds that had once united us. i suppose lady ninggaung look advantage of this." y/n felt an inkling of betrayal. she wondered what it would have been like growing up under the protection of a god, she felt as if lady ninggaung had taken that from her. "is there no way to bring them back? can we rekindle the faith and restore their protection?"

"i believe that the god that once cast it's protection amongst liyue has long fallen, but there is one last thing i have not yet told you." the elder almost chuckled at the look on y/n's face. "sit closer, my child, for there is more to the tale of the gods. they did not act alone; they had loyal helpers, allies in their divine mission." helpers? y/n asked herself.

"these helpers were known as the adepti. they were mortals chosen by the gods themselves, bestowed with gifts and powers to aid in their sacred tasks. it has been many years since one has spoken of such being, i was but a child when i saw them."

y/n squirmed in her seat, "you saw them, elder? what did they look like? what were their names?"

the elder leaned back in his chair, "my memory fails me now as i get older, but i do remember one thing."

"what is it elder?" she questioned leaning forward and grasping the elder's hands gently.

"there was one particular man who I saw quite regularly," the elder pauses for a moment and thinks, "what was his name again?"

as the girl pondered the knowledge of the adepti, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coiled within her heart. the anticipation of what lay ahead weighed upon her like an ever-growing burden. "ah, yes i remember!"

"what was his name elder?"

"adeptus xiao."

taglist: @esthelily @xiaos0n1yprincess

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #xiao #adeptus xiao #adeptus xiao x reader #genshin smut #genshin headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin adeptus xiao

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cherryrainn · 10 months

Note

hey! I was wondering if you could make a Onceler x fem reader angst? I really like your angst posts. If you want, you can add mitski's "me and my husband" as the song. have a nice day:)

YESYESYESYESYEYSESYYESYESYEYSYESY

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰

— me and my husband

onceler (greedler) x reader

song link; click here

the opulent mansion stood as a symbol of the indulgent life you and onceler led. every corner exuded wealth and luxury, but within the gilded walls, your heart yearned for something more.

you had fallen into the depths of an intense and all-consuming love for onceler, a man driven by greed, confidence, and selfish desires. your life revolved around him, and the obsession you felt grew with each passing day. you were willing to sacrifice everything for him, even your own happiness.

"i steal a few breaths from the world for a minute," you thought to yourself, seeking solace in those stolen moments of stolen love. but you knew deep down that it would never be enough. you craved more of his attention, his affection, and his selfish love.

you were willing to give up everything, your own dreams, and desires, just to remain by his side. the mansion, the wealth, the extravagant lifestyle—they meant nothing if you couldn't have him, if you couldn't revel in the twisted bond you shared.

in the shadows, you observed the world around you, fully aware of your place as the "idiot with the painted face." your existence felt insignificant, like a mere decoration in the corner, while onceler commanded the attention and adoration of everyone else. but when his eyes locked with yours, even for a fleeting moment, you felt an electrifying rush of validation. you were loved, even if it was only for an instant.

the outside world saw you as a mere accessory, a housewife confined within the walls of opulence. but within those walls, you knew that your purpose ran deeper. you were the keeper of onceler's secrets, the one who stood by him unconditionally, even when the world turned its back on him. your devotion knew no bounds, your love was unwavering, and you would do anything to protect him, even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness.

as you moved through the extravagant rooms of the mansion, the weight of your loneliness pressed upon you. the whispers of the staff, the hollow echo of your footsteps—they all served as constant reminders of your isolated existence. but you couldn't bear the thought of leaving onceler. the depth of your obsession was a prison of your own making—a choice you were unwilling to undo.

tears cascading down your cheeks. you had staked your entire being on this tumultuous love. the furrowed brow—the fleeting glimmer of vulnerability in his gaze—was your lifeline. you held onto that glimmer, that sliver of hope, despite the pain it brought.

in the depths of your despair, you yearned for a taste of his affection—a moment where his selfish love would be yours and yours alone. you were willing to endure the agony, the solitude, the relentless hunger for reciprocation. you clung to the fragments of tenderness, even as they slipped through your fingers like sand.

"me and my husband," you whispered, your voice laced with melancholic resignation. the world may never comprehend the twisted dance of power and devotion that defined your marriage, but you knew that as long as you remained by his side, you would be forever entwined.

lost in the shadows, you startled as onceler's commanding presence emerged from the darkness. his footsteps echoed, a painful reminder of his power and the hold he had over your heart. when his eyes met yours, you saw a flicker of concern, but it was quickly replaced by his usual indifference.

"what's the matter?" his voice dripped with apathy, as if your anguish was of little consequence.

you took a shaky breath, gathering the strength to express your deepest feelings. "onceler, i can't believe how much you've changed. we used to be so in love, remember? you were everything to me, and i thought i meant something to you too."

onceler expression hardened, a glimmer of annoyance in his eyes. "y/n, things have changed."

tears streamed down your face, a mix of heartbreak and determination flooding your voice. "but onceler, what about us? what about the love we used to share? can't you see that the path you're on is empty and shallow? i miss the person you used to be."

he let out a bitter chuckle, his voice filled with cynicism. "y/n, love won't pay the bills or secure our future. my family's pride matters more than anything else now."

your heart shattered at his words, the painful reality sinking in. the person you loved had become a stranger, driven solely by his own ambition and the desire to please his mother. but even in the face of this devastating truth, you couldn't bring yourself to leave him. your love for onceler had become an obsession, an unhealthy attachment that held you captive.

with tears streaming down your face, you whispered, "okay, okay that's fine. i'll still stay with you. forever.. don't even worry.."

onceler's gaze remained distant, his voice devoid of emotion. "y/n, i never asked you to stay..."

you nodded, your voice filled with resignation. "yeah, i got that part... but i'll stay."

and so, you remained trapped in a one-sided love, forever yearning for a connection that would never be reciprocated, sacrificing your own happiness for the sake of an unattainable obsession.

#greedler #onceler #y/n #reader insert #x reader #the lorax #onceler x reader #greedler x reader #angst #ask #request #mitski #me and my husband

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nout-nout-motherfucker · 2 years

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I’d plant the stars in the ground for you -> Moon Knight x Daughter!Reader

-‘If I could, I’d plant the stars in the ground for you, They’d grow as tall as your eyes so they’d shine for you only.’ ‘For then you’d see how the world is so big, but it was made for you. And you were made to be loved, loved by me.’ -

-by abbycates

PART TWO:

Part one/Part two/Part three

Relationships: Father!Jake Lockley x daughter!reader/ Fatherfigure!Steven Grant x daughter!reader/ Fatherfigure!Marc Spector x daughter!reader Motherly Nut/ Slight Layla x Marc

TW: Depression and anxiety disorders, absent father, slight angst, Steven is a good dad, Marc tries, Jake is scared and hides but will come around. Konshu is intimidated by Nut hehe.

Nut, Nwt, (Ⲛⲉ), is the goddess of the sky, stars, cosmos, mothers, astronomy, all heavenly bodies and the universe in the ancient Egyptian religion. She was seen as a star-covered nude woman arching over the Earth. Nut was seen as a friend and protector of the dead, who appealed to her as a child appeals to its mother. (She is sometimes associated with the cow and represented with the horns of one)

A/N: the story takes place right after Konshu frees Steven and Marc. She/Her reader pronouns but they aren’t used a lot, the term ‘daughter’ comes up tho.

If you want to write/create anything that is inspired by this little story, feel free ! I just want a bit of credit hehe.

(Every time a god speaks the text is inbetween 'thoses'. Nut's dialogues are in blue.)

(In the Moon Knight series, Steven's supposed to have worked at the British Museum, even if the scenes weren't shot there x)) __________________________________________

It didn’t take long for Nut to send you back home. Whatever she wanted, she must’ve felt it wasn't as important as the torment you experienced in that moment.

°°°°

He grabbed you firmly by the shoulders and stared into your eyes, searching for something in them.

« …(Y/N). »

You wanted to leave, this was a mistake. Listening and doing as voice in your head asked was a mistake. Coming to a place that was so unfamiliar to you was a mistake. Meeting those people was. A. Mistake.

Thunder cut through the thick silence of the desert. Where did those clouds come from?

The man in front of you dropped his gaze to your chest, fixated on the opal that shone in the light of the lightning that was now fragmenting the sky. His fingers held the necklace as you froze into place.

The woman that seemed so suspicious of you when she first saw you walked to your side and took one of his arms in her hand, gently but firmly. Inciting him to let you go.

« What is going on? It’s just a kid. » He mouthed something inaudible and brought his eyes back to yours. His grip loosened but his palms were still on your shoulders.

'If you wish to leave, I could bring you back. We will meet Khonshu again. What would you prefer, little one?' « Marc? Steven? » The woman inquired, using two names. You felt cold, you couldn't hear their voices anymore, the sound of thunder resonating inside your ribcage. You struggle out of their grip and took a couple of steps back. « I want to go home… »

The man stepped back as well looking at you with a now soft expression and sad eyes.

« Vuelve a tu casa. Go »

°°°° When you went back to London, the night was still here. You ended up directly into your bedroom. You felt sick, your vision was foggy. You took a couple of steps and felt completely off balance. You got on your bed and sat and your knees. You couldn't help but grab a pillow and bury your face in it, trying to block out everything. The sound, the noise, the air, the thoughts. Nut was still talking to you, with this sweet, smooth, and unnerving voice. « Just… leave me alone. Please. » And just like that, everything was quiet. A week passed where you could only think about what happened that day. You didn't want to come outside anymore, seeing eyes in the sky, watching your every move. Not being forced to attend class left you with a lot of free time on your hands. That's when you started your research, you spent days on your computer just browsing for hours. You never had that big of an interest in egyptology before, and your mother obviously noticed. Even if she wasn't around most of the day, she was surprised to see you less and less when she got back from work. When you ate together, you would mention things you learned while watching a documentary or reading an article.

One evening, she knocked at your bedroom door:

« Baby? »

You looked up from the screen.

« Yeah? Come in. » She entered your room and sat on your bed, making you bounce a little bit.

« So… Still on your little nerd expedition about Egypt? » She smirked. You felt embarrassed, you probably were rambling about it incessantly for the past days.

« I can shut up about it you know, just say the word. »

« No no, it’s great even! I’m glad you found something you’re really interested in. It’s been a while. » It might've been a while since something peeked your interest...

« You know what, since I have a day off tomorrow, we could go to the British Museum, they have a big ‘Ancient Egypt’ section there. There’s even a gelato store on the way. » You couldn't help but smile at that. Your mom was always trying her best, raising you all by herself was the greatest thing that happened to her, or so she says.

« Yeah, that’d be nice. »

« If you’re nice to your ma I’ll even buy you something to geek over- » She teased. « -like a book or something. » You leaned on her shoulder in a side hug.

« You’re just feeding the nerd ma. » ____ __ _ It was comically hot the next day. The sun was blinding and you were now more excited about the ice cream than the museum. When you got to the shop, your mother simply told you to go on ahead to the museum while she waited for your ice cream. It felt like such a long time since you walked outside, even if it was only down a busy avenue. The sun was burning your back but a light breeze flew over you. It wasn't unpleasant. What was uncomfortable was this feeling that Nut wasn't really gone. She couldn't have left, she's always there. That's why you couldn't help but just stare at the ground as you walked. And you inevitably ran into someone. Or they ran into you, you couldn't tell. The impact was so strong and the person so much bigger than you that you spun around, landing on your ass with your elbow following quickly after. « AH ! » You sat up, immediately rubbing your elbow to try and ease up the bruise.

« Oh bollocks! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going! Here let me help you up- » You both froze up as you saw each other. He lifted his finger and pointed at you.

« It’s you… » « It’s you. »

After the initial shock, his pointed finger turned into an extended hand. « Come on, I can’t imagine the ground being that comfortable. » You took his hand hesitantly, not really knowing how to react.

« So… You’re an avatar? You seem young to be one… I mean- not that it’s against you, just… Why were you there? In Cairo? » You shrugged.

« Nut wanted to see Khonshu… »

« Well, too bad I guess. I’m sorry if it’s rough for you. I know how-how that must feel...» You fiddled with the hem of your top.

« I was just going to the museum with my ma. She’ll be here soon… »

Suddenly he seemed to lit up, a small award smile appeared on his lips.

« The British Museum? For the Egyptian section I presume. » He had a nervous laugh « I used to work there. I-if you’d like I could give you tour ? And figure out- » He made a vague motion with his hand, trying to mimic something « this big old mess. I-I completely understand if it makes you uncomfortable, and I'd just go. » Well... You were going there anyways.

« Sure… But just so you know, my mom’ll be there in a few. So don’t try to… Kidnap me or anything. »

His eyes tripled in size.

« Oh god, no! Absolutely not! I mean, yes of course! But god no! »

you couldn’t help but chuckle. ---------------- ____ __ You were surprised by how much knowledge Steven, which you learned was his name, could spit out. He had answers for every question you gave. He showed you depictions of Nut on ancient murals. Told you stories about how she was banished from Earth because of her love for Geb, the god of Earth. And in the most natural of ways, the conversation got more personal. "Why did Khonshu leave?" "What does Nut ask you to do?" "Why did the sky shift that night?"

« How do you know my name? »

His enthusiastic smile froze and he tilled his head slightly to the side. « What? »

« Back in Egypt, when you saw me… You said my name. »

« I’m sorry I… Don’t know your name. I’m sorry, uh wh-what’s your name ? »

You rubbed the opal on your pendant between your thumb and index in a soothing tic.

« …but you said it. » He looked to the side and rubbed his lip with his thumb.

« …not even Marc… » « What the fuck are you doing here? »

You both jumped as the voice of your mother resonated through the halls of the exhibition. She was holding your ice cream in both her hands, and was staring daggers into the man next to you.

____________________________________

Nut depiction from Yliade.

A very cool drawing of Geb and Nut by an artist I couldn't find.

___________________________________ I'm opening my ask/submission box if you have headcanon or scenario ideas about the Nut avatar!Reader ;)

#moon knight #moon knight x reader #moonknight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley #jake lockely x reader #khonshu #layla el faouly

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dustedmagazine · 2 months

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Arve Henriksen and Harmen Fraanje — Touch of Time (ECM)

youtube

What exactly is a “Redream?” Yes, it’s the third piece on trumpeter Arve Henriksen and pianist Harmen Fraanje’s new collaborative album and one of Fraanje’s own compositions, but is it a dream reboot or a contemplative revisitation of somnolence, a “regard” a la Messiaen in contemplation of the baby Jesus? Like the music on Touch of Time, that elusive title occupies a between space, a glance toward opposites that never quite solidify as expected but float by, imbued with introspective calm.

As with so many ECM albums, music and production were made for each other. Henriksen’s sound has been documented enough to need little description. Its combination of reed, flute and voice expands and obfuscates in tandem, but the breath supporting that constantly morphing timbre may never have been caught with just this level of detail in motion. It moves in physical space with the same easy grace carrying each note toward the myriad conclusions Henriksen has perfected. His inaugural phrase of “Passing on the Past” skims those shadowy lines as lush vibrato and cloudy tone bolster notes wavering through and around each other, each luffing breath a new tempo against Fraanje’s ghostly shades of motive and chord. Henriksen’s use of electronics is tasteful, as when “The Dark Light”’s melody takes on the heft of cathedral harmonies and “Mirror Images” sits anchored in a clear but deep pool of drone. In a continuation of his work on Mats Eilertsen’s And Then Comes the Night, actually recorded in the same space, Fraanje’s pianism is captured in similarly staggering detail. Every nuance of “Redream”’s pianism is front and center, and it’s as if we can watch him pedal, digging deep into each gesture as his foot teases phrases forth with rhythmic variation akin to Henriksen’s breath control. His incorporation of melodic fragments outside whatever scale the duo’s inhabiting demonstrates a masterful adventurousness, a subtly inquisitive nature tempering harmonic stasis, whispering mischievous implications at the boundaries of conventional expression.

That’s what ECM has been doing for 55 years. The label has expanded, often via methods less overt, the spaces in which being “Avant Garde” are delineated. It is spaces just like those explored by Henriksen and Fraanje that Manfred Eicher has been opening at least since Afternoon of a Georgia Faun, Marion Brown’s awe-inspiring 1970 improvised soundscape, or did the meditative universe come into being with Benny Maupin’s 1974 masterpiece The Jewel in the Lotus? Like Allan Pettersson’s approach to shifting planes of harmonic consonance and dissonance in his symphonies, those two albums defined the emotionally adjacent innovations and conventionalities the label so often explores, but ECM production offers so much more to experience. Touch of Time demonstrates yet another aspect of adherence to the label’s lineage of atmospheric sonics. Whether live or under studio conditions, foregrounded detail and room ambiance combine in a way few, if any, other labels achieve. Each creak from Fraanje’s bench or instrument and the slightest breathy movement Henriksen executes comes aliveand becomes an integral component to the music’s evolution. Each sonic document from ECM provides a coexistent narrative, telling the story of its creation even as that creation manifests, but those narratives are thorough-going. Ensembles, even a duo, morph, shedding notions of size and surrounding space even as the music eschews the confines of harmony, melody and their predispositions. Touch of Time is one of the label’s most stirring recent examples of double-narrative. Dig deeper into the electronics Henriksen employs to find worlds of undulant harmony in glorious states of becoming, and each note Fraanje plays decays with his instrument’s glorious overtones in full view. Go deeper still into each key stroke and sonic moment to find that timbre succumbs to similar flights of fancy. Are those metallic cube sounds peppering an atmosphere? Is there a ghost harmony just below a melodic surface? Did those notes external to the scale really fit perfectly after all? Re-audition tells one story, then another, and finally reiterates the first in a new way, a (re)experience well worth having.

Marc Medwin

#arve henriksen #harmen fraanje #touch of time #ecm #marc medwin #albumreview #dusted magazine #piano #trumpet #electronics #jazz

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doomedandstoned · 23 days

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TEMPLE OF THE FUZZ WITCH Unleash Magnum Opus, ‘Apotheosis’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

We introduced you to TEMPLE OF THE FUZZ WITCH in our compilation Doomed & Stoned in Detroit and the band subsequently played Ohio Doomed & Stoned Festival in 2019.

Now past the pandemic years, the band's sound has matured and evolved to encompass frightening black metal textures, in addition to the stalwart doom sound they forged in the beginning. On their third LP 'Apotheosis' (2024), Temple of the Fuzz Witch execution is nothing short of tight, demonstrating an uncanny penchant for conjuring apocalyptic atmospheres. Every member of the team is on point and collaborate to create something dark and powerful.

While not pitched as a concept album, savvy listeners will pick up on the subtext of fallen angels, drawing from Biblical, Zoroastrian, mystical, and traditional lore to create a singular work of terror that could well be a sequel to Dante's Inferno.

Apotheosis is the process of becoming deity (an idea long held by Egyptian, Greek, Buddhist and Christian beliefs), so perhaps this album concerns the rise of those angels who fell like lightning to our planet after a failed coup against The Almighty in heaven. Now is their time to rise again and terrorize mankind, as foretold in St. John's Revelation, The Books of Enoch, Kabbalah, and Milton's Paradise Lost.

Joe Peet's blistering bass welcomes us to "A Call To Prey," with bravura drumming from Taylor Christian and Noah Bruner's grungy guitars following not far behind. We prey upon your fear sings frontman Noah with windswept ire. One could imagine hearing this voice echo in the dead of night over moonlit hills and forests.

"Wight" is a foreboding doomer with elements of black metal. Noah teeters between jaded vocals with menacing growls. Wight is a reference to a ghostly creature, and there's sinister, foggy element to the song, as evil spirits vow:

We’ll break you Damned You’ll never be free We’ll break you For all eternity

"Nephilim" made me recall how damningly heavy Temple of the Fuzz Witch was at Ohio Doomed and Stoned Fest. You can get a sense of it with a pair of good speakers, but seeing them live punches even harder. Vocals vary in character between forlorn cries, as depressed hushes declare, "You will see, I will feed." Fiery yells and guttural rumbling join ravaging drumwork and hailing tremeloes as the song progresses.

"Bow Down" lives in familiar stoner-doom territory, with southern sludge riffing suggesting a revelrous lot dedicated to the worship of their master. Here the singing here is clear, clean, and resonant, intersected by harsh vocals that shout defiantly: Bow down and worship the sky, we pass beyond the glowing light.

"Sanguine" has become one of my favorite words, lately, though I've struggled for an appropriate reason to include it in my writing. It basically means making the best of a bad situation, remaining confident despite the odds, optimistic even when faced with nihilistic uncertainty. Lyrics allude to "Yahweh's condemned," "diabolic souls" who were "cast into swine" by God's Son, and now look to overtake Earth when Satan is loosed from the Bottomless Pit. Bittersweet riffs and damning low end remind me of Purple Hill Witch, and there are some badass chord progressions here. This one has been lingering in my head for days.

"Cursed" gives us little clue as to who the Cursed are, other than they have "sought the watchers in the blacks" and that their "moment has now passed" and now "there's no return." The Watchers are most likely fallen angels from the Book of Enoch, the Nephilim referenced in the book of Genesis. Maybe the cursed ones were acolytes of the Nephilim, but we're given only scraps, hints, fragments to piece together the mystery.

"Raze" opens with muted drums and a swarm of distorted guitar noise that almost seems like a portent of the great horde, here to "end all humans." It takes the perspective of the Fallen, who are still loyal to Lucifer. I have carried his black mark, all the way from the very start.

Strumming arpeggios suggest the clock is ticking in "Apostate," one of my favorite tracks of the record for its sheer dread. Downtuned, dissonant guitar chords make the ire of Noah's roaring vocals all the more convincing, as four lines are repeated thrice:

Await the hallows Swallow the earth The apostates Filled with dread and woe

"Ashes" brings the album to a head with another highlight of the record, a slow headbanger if there ever was one. Vocals are terrifying, referencing "vows of the damned" and Ahriman the evil spirit of early Iranian religions -- the very embodiment of destruction.

It's good to see Ripple Music continue to expand its portfolio into doom territory. Look for Apotheosis by Temple of the Fuzz Witch, dropping this Friday, April 5th (get it here).. Stick it on a playlist with Electric Wizard, Saturnalia Temple, Cough, Coffins, and Moon Coven.

Give ear...

LISTEN: Temple of the Fuzz Witch - Apotheosis

SOME BUZZ

With riffs and lyrics as bleak and crushing as a Michigan winter, blackened doom outfit Temple of the Fuzz Witch brings a unique take on the doom genre, their unwaveringly nightmarish sonic processions being raised to another level with frontman Noah Bruner's jaw-dropping balance of crypt-worthy growls and astoundingly grunge-styled clean vocals. Never the darkness has felt so magnificent and compelling, and their aptly-titled third album "Apotheosis" has everything to put the mighty trio on every black and doom metal fan's radar for years to come.

Launched in 2017 with a 3-track EP, the Detroit three-piece has successively released two albums: "Temple of the Fuzz Witch" (2019) and "Red Tide" (2020). Temple of the Fuzz Witch is now set to unleash the beauty of its unique occult-driven nihilism with "Apotheosis". The album was recorded and mixed by Pete Grossman at Bricktop Recording, and mastered by Chris Fielding at Skyhammer Studio. Its artwork was created by Sarah Fazriah and Zoro (Mysteriousfour).

Apotheosis by Temple of the Fuzz Witch

About the album, the band says: “The lyrics and concept as an album are more overt and less cryptic than the previous Temple releases. Everything is bigger, heavier, and darker. Rather than making just another doom record, we wanted to do something that stepped outside of the box a little bit. Established fans will still find catchy riffs that are staples of doom but will be surprised with some new twists on the genre with the introduction of blackened vocals and some more up-tempo tracks.

Lyrically the album is deeply rooted in the esoteric and spiritual. We came at the album with a very introspective mindset, and each of us was able to add a little bit of our own soul to it. I think when people hear the lyrics and music together they'll find something fresh, but dark, to connect with.”

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#D&S Debuts #Temple of the Fuzz Witch #Detroit #Michigan #doom metal #black metal #blackened doom #Ripple Music #D&S Reviews #Doomed and Stoned

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on-campaign · 10 months

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High Return Investments

Every Corpus ship had a couple of medical officers for every hundred Techs. A handful for every thousand crewmen. There were so few that you might as well not know they were there at all. You learned this going in if you studied at the Investments Institutes on Neptune. If you came fresh out of the flash academies on Pluto, though, you’d be in for one hell of a time. Like me.

Flash academies did one thing well, and that’s rush-write raw medical knowledge onto the neocortex. It’s cheap, it’s fast, and it’d get you on a high-risk deep-space Obelisk in no time so you could start debt-chopping. Problem was it didn’t always take. If that happened, smoke would billow from your eyes and your brain would leak out your ears in the post-education clean-up chamber. Your only comfort would be your signed liability waiver being read over a tinny intercom as you faded into a vegetative state.

If you’re a little lucky, all you needed to worry about is complete and total information hyper-collapse. For most flash academies, this was explained as “not exactly a sure thing,” followed by a re-explanation of the course’s value props. My education was not so flattering.

See, I attended Magna Mens Magna Pecunia PL-4, Academy for Low Income Excellence. They presented a big graph after the flash, comparing time passed and chance of sudden onset IHC. There was a bold red line, angled at a clean 45 degrees, going up and up. This was the No-to-Low Risk chart. They didn’t show the High Risk chart. Instead, they read off a list of alumni success stories as reassurance. Altus Vir (12 years no IHC), Novis Libers (14 years no IHC), Non Casu (5 years no IHC)...

IHC symptoms included:

Severe nose bleeds

Delusions

False memories

Visual, auditory, and tactile hallucinations (but mostly tactile)

Partial or total memory fragmentation

Temporary or permanent insomnia

Hemiplegic migraines

Klazomania

Severe brain bleed

Aphasia

Dry mouth

Anyone that suffered IHC usually ended up in a bag. And if they didn’t, they could no longer form new memories or recall existing ones. They existed in a never ending moment, each instant annihilating the last. Lot of ‘em screamed, too. Often and loud.

So when I boarded an Obelisk charted for Ceres and saw just three other docs on the crew list, I thought, yeah, that makes sense. Not a lot of people crazy enough to go up against IHC.

“That’s not why there’s only four of us,” said Lenion Navos, my chief MO. “There’s four of us because that’s what a crew this size is worth. Officially, speaking.”

“You’re not serious,” I said.

We were taking inventory in a cramped operating theater, comparing stocked materials against the manifest.

“Think about it,” he said. “We’re en route to hostile territory. We might not come back. The threats we face… they’ll either scratch or scrap us, with no in-between.”

“You don’t think more MOs might make the difference?”

“It’s not a matter of what I think. To Command, it’s a matter of investment risk. Think about what we’re saving.”

“People,” I said. “We’re saving people.”

Lenion silently mouthed the number of pairs of disposable surgical gloves in the drawer in front of him. He mouthed “twenty” and nodded his head like the number made sense to him. “We’re saving high return investments. There’s a difference.”

I stopped in the middle of counting NumbOut Insta-Applicators (just 6 of them?). “What do you mean 'difference?'” Seemed insane to me that I’d ever need to ask.

Lenion tapped the device strapped around his forearm. I looked at my own. “If there’s wounded, you scan them,” he said. “Just do what the readout says.”

Four days later, I was mixing together homebrew pain relievers in the surgical lab when ramsleds perforated the hull. Firefights all throughout the starboard side. The same phrase repeated inside my earpiece: Medical to Bridge. Footsteps of crewmen barreling down the hall outside. This was my moment. I strapped up with pain-wiping applicators, adrenoblend injectors, auto-forming bone struts, and ran for the doors.

A blast rocked the lab.

The doors slammed shut, red lights beaming as they locked. A hissing sound followed by the thunder of steel clapping steel. The readout on the door interface read sealing decompression in hall 83-C. Please wait. I hopped on my heels, ready to go. Medical to Bridge. The doors finally went green.

In the hallway, only bodies.

Among them was Lenion, the left side of his torso and face glittering with red reinforced glass. His breathing was a short, rapid whisper. His eyes were the only thing that could move. They were fixed on me. Medical to Bridge.

I started with the adrenoblend injector. I loaded the injector gun with material, locked it, and pressed the gun to his chest. I pulled the trigger. Nothing but a beep. A readout on the side of the gun blinked Medi-scan Required.

I started the scan.

>Medi-scan Start >Subject: LENION NAVOS // CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER >Position Tenure: >4 YEARS >Resource Priority: HIGH

C’mon, c’mon…

>Condition: CRITICAL >Materials Cost to Revivify: INORDINATE >Retrieving financials… Please wait!

I squeezed the trigger of the adrenoblend injector again and again. Medi-scan Required. Medi-scan Required.

>Debt Record: SUBSTANTIAL >Repayment Record: OPTIMAL+ >Loan Appraisal: PROFIT POTENTIAL >APPROVED FOR TREATMENT

I squeezed the trigger and the gun hissed as material rushed into his chest. The spent cartridge popped out the back of the gun with a trail of compressed air. Lenion’s eyes looked through me. His breathing had already stopped.

Medical to Bridge. Medical to Bridge.

I stood up in a hallway packed with corpses. My mouth felt dry.

#warframe #Warframe fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic writing #Warframe Fanfiction #on_campaign writes fanfic

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konglindorm · 11 months

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The Snow Queen: Story the First: Which Describes a Looking-Glass and its Broken Fragments

(Over the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting both the text of the Snow Queen, and my thoughts on it. This is the text of the first section. All text comes from the public domain translation of Andersen’s works edited by J. H. Stickney and published in 1886. I have changed the spelling of Kai's name from Kay to Kai in this text, as it is the spelling I prefer. The illustrations, by Edna Hart, are from this edition as well.)

YOU must attend to the beginning of this story, for when we get to the end we shall know more than we now do about a very wicked hobgoblin; he was one of the most mischievous of all sprites, for he was a real demon.

One day when he was in a merry mood he made a looking-glass which had the power of making everything good or beautiful that was reflected in it shrink almost to nothing, while everything that was worthless and bad was magnified so as to look ten times worse than it really was.

The most lovely landscapes appeared like boiled spinach, and all the people became hideous and looked as if they stood on their heads and had no bodies. Their countenances were so distorted that no one could recognize them, and even one freckle on the face appeared to spread over the whole of the nose and mouth. The demon said this was very amusing. When a good or holy thought passed through the mind of any one a wrinkle was seen in the mirror, and then how the demon laughed at his cunning invention.

All who went to the demon's school—for he kept a school—talked everywhere of the wonders they had seen, and declared that people could now, for the first time, see what the world and its inhabitants were really like. They carried the glass about everywhere, till at last there was not a land nor a people who had not been looked at through this distorted mirror.

They wanted even to fly with it up to heaven to see the angels, but the higher they flew the more slippery the glass became, and they could scarcely hold it. At last it slipped from their hands, fell to the earth, and was broken into millions of pieces.

But now the looking-glass caused more unhappiness than ever, for some of the fragments were not so large as a grain of sand, and they flew about the world into every country. And when one of these tiny atoms flew into a person's eye it stuck there, unknown to himself, and from that moment he viewed everything the wrong way, and could see only the worst side of what he looked at, for even the smallest fragment retained the same power which had belonged to the whole mirror.

Some few persons even got a splinter of the looking-glass in their hearts, and this was terrible, for their hearts became cold and hard like a lump of ice. A few of the pieces were so large that they could be used as windowpanes; it would have been a sad thing indeed to look at our friends through them. Other pieces were made into spectacles, and this was dreadful, for those who wore them could see nothing either rightly or justly. At all this the wicked demon laughed till his sides shook, to see the mischief he had done. There are still a number of these little fragments of glass floating about in the air, and now you shall hear what happened with one of them.

#the snow queen #hans christian andersen #fairy tales #shards of glass

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uridestiny · 4 months

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The Warrior of the Moon Chapter 4: Run

Previous chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/uridestiny/736122068040581120/the-warrior-of-the-moon?source=share

That day, I was given a very dangerous task. Send a message to the soldiers on the wall on the other side of the post. But they would not do it through a communicator, but rather the Garleans would wait for me to take the message in my hands and run through the rocks, the undergrowth, the trees and among a variety of beasts just to deliver a message.

I saw how the two of them had malicious smiles, almost ready to burst out laughing for being pranky. Then one of them grabbed me by the head and pulled my arm, exposing it.

¨But we won't let you go so easily, we are not fools. We will be monitoring you on your way to the Baelsar’s wall, if you leave it, we will not hesitate to activate this to kill you.¨ The other soldier brought what seemed to be a metal bracelet and inserted it into my arm, sealing it with a sensor that only the he had through what looks like a card with a round button.

"I think even a savage like you can understand what death means, right?" The soldier let go of me and pushed me to the ground.

¨Oh and if the beasts eat you we will know, that thing has a heart sensor, therefore, if your heart stops beating, we will know that you are dead.¨ His partner hit his arm, pointing at me and letting out a small laugh.

¨I don't think the beasts will eat her, she is very thin and has more fur than meat.¨ They both burst into laughter and I felt helpless in this situation, I couldn't flee, but I couldn't disobey either, I was cornered, I was afraid and I was annoyed.

"Hey, what are you waiting for? Start running¨ One of the soldiers yelled at me and threw what seemed to be a package with a message tied to it, I picked it up and put it behind a leather backpack that they had put on my back before taking me outside with the instructions and my new work.

I began to walk slowly, moving away from the metal floor so that my boots touched the dry earth of the terrain. It was the first time that they had asked me to be outside of those metal walls since they changed my position to work, but if I looked up more beyond the trees, I could see that the metal walls revealed to me how trapped I still was and under the heavy hand of the people of Garlemald.

Thanks to the bracelet they tied on my arm, I saw that it also included a map, which showed a direct path to the post guarding the Baelsar’s wall.

Every step I took in this new terrain was hesitant, I didn't know anything about this area, and although the trees offered me a little comfort when I saw them, I really felt scared, I felt like the ground under my feet shook as if an animal was shaking, digging underneath, and the smell of burning metal and oil was present; As I passed past a huge rock, I saw what I could distinguish as destroyed magitek weaponry and engulfed in flames. As I advanced with each step, I found more fragments of military weaponry and machines distributed everywhere. This is a war zone and they sent me alone knowing that another attack could happen again.

That's when I understood that I had to hurry, I couldn't risk being killed in the middle of a new battle, but fear filled my heart more and I ran with all my strength, leaving the dirt area and reaching the little ground that still remained of Shroud's End , but in correct terms, this territory did not belong to them.

While I was running I used the trees to sneak away from the big bears and the largest insects, but a problem arose when I was close to reaching the wall.

Huge plants and trees with legs were around the area and I would probably be an easy target if they found me. I will say this honestly, I don't know what was going through my head that made me think it was a good idea to run as fast as I could among them to reach the entrance, but if I analyze that moment again, I realize that I didn't consider several things, including the fact that those beasts are very fast to move and there was no guarantee that the Garleans would recognize me as their messenger because it was the first time that I had made an order of this type, and consequently, there was the possibility of shooting me or not opening the door for me if the beasts chased me.

And what happened? They tried to shoot me.

When I was fleeing from the beasts, several Garlean soldiers opened the door and shot at the beasts, but I also noticed that they tried to shoot me, because several bullets grazed my skin, one of them grazed my leg and the other my cheek. Due to the unexpected pain, I stumbled and fell face first onto the ground. When the soldiers finally managed to drive the beasts away, they aggressively picked me up and kicked me in the stomach.

But they stopped when one of them recognized the bracelet on my arm and the backpack with the Garlemald flag symbol. After they examined me, I reluctantly handed over the package.

I didn't speak, I didn't look angry, I just kept my head down as the anger boiled inside me.

They took the package and even tended to my wounds, but after that, they pushed me out of the doors of the Baelsar’s wall and told me to go back to where I belonged.

This time I didn't hesitate, I started running as fast as I could and finally tears started to blur my vision, I hated all of this.

I hated my uncle for killing my parents and mistreating people for his own gain.

I hated the man who bought me and took all those children to be Garlemald's slaves .

I hated the smiles of the soldiers who took advantage of me and made me risk my life for their own amusement.

I hate it, I really hated all of them...

Even while running, my wounds burned badly and I stumbled a few times due to my blurred vision. My chest filled with pain and suffocating heat, finally, I screamed with all my might.

I didn't care if the beasts heard me, I didn't care if the Garleans heard me, I wanted the heavens to hear me and the hells to swallow all the bad people in the world. I really wanted this all to end.

After that incident, the soldiers who sent me on that new assignment were scolded because the members of the Baelsar´s wall had not been informed about the new messenger and jeopardized the exchange of messages. But it was not my safety that mattered to them, but rather that the information I would carry with me would fall into the hands of the Resistance.

Therefore, they decided to be more discreet and returned me to my previous task of writing and leaving messages among the soldiers in what they considered a "Safe zone" in order to keep me within the walls and less exposure to the outside.

#ff14 #ffxiv #ff14 writing #ff14 wol #ffxiv wol #final fantasy 14 #final fantasy xiv #my writing #my ocs #ff14 fanfic #ffxiv fanfiction

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anxiouswormonastring · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER THREE:

“I think we can handle this.”

You couldn’t seem to trust anyone or anything anymore. But food was scarce so here you were, stalking behind a group of what looked to be normal people trying to hike down the mountain.

You could practically smell the food on them in your creature form and it seemed that the weather was on your side as the wind began to pick up.

It wasn’t long before white was the only thing anyone could see. You could hear them shouting over the storm to find shelter, and that’s when you pounced.

Only taking what you needed, you fled as quickly as you appeared, only barely managing to hear them cry out something along the lines of “calling in the adventurer’s guild.” Paying it no mind, you only focused on making your way back to your cave.

Once you arrived, you shook the snow off of your body and dropped the bits of meat you had retrieved. Humming a tune, you stuck them on a skewer and placed them over a pile of wood that soon erupted into flames courtesy of your “vision.”

You stopped humming and slumped forward, staring at the ground for a moment before standing up and picking up a rock. You looked at the wall and began to scribble down what you could remember about how far you went.

Stepping back to examine the fragments of a map you had made, a bitter smile tugged at your lips. “So I really am trapped here, aren’t I?”

AETHER’S POV

Even though several days had passed, it was still hard to comprehend that the carefree bard he and his little floating companion, Paimon, met was actually the Anemo Archon…or well, used to be. He had taken up several commissions to try and distract himself but today felt different.

“Hi, Katheryne,” Paimon chirped, materializing once again beside the blond. The receptionist smiled at the pair as they approached.

“Paimon and Aether, always good to see you two,” she greeted with a nervous smile. Aether raised a brow at the woman. “Is there something wrong,” he asked, earning a sigh from Katheryne.

“Several other adventures are asking me to send someone to investigate a series of attacks in Dragonspine,” she began, pinching the bridge of her nose. “But no one wants to take up the commission. I’m afraid if these attacks continue, we will have to cease all travel to the area.”

Paimon whimpered and reached out for Aether, “w-what kind of attacks?” Her voice trembled noticeably, prompting Aether to give her a reassuring smile.

“There are several reports of it happening but most of the adventurers remain unharmed, but the same can’t be said for their supplies. The one common good that is stolen is meat,” Katheryne explained, earning a gasp from the little floating pixie.

“It’s stealing our food?!” Her shrill voice now full of confidence instead of fear. “We can’t let that thing get away with this! Let’s take the commission, Aether,” she begged, tugging at his clothes and floating around impatiently.

Aether sighed and let out a strained laugh knowing that there isn’t any way he can wiggle out of this request. “You really are easy to influence, Paimon,” he teased before looking back at Katheryne.

“So you’ll take it,” she asked, her eyes shining with hope.

The blond nodded, “I think we can handle this.”

~A/N~ annnd here he is, Aether has finally been introduced!! I also wanna take the time to say thank you for all the support I’ve been getting for this story! It really means a lot that people are at least willing to give me a chance at creating something like this!! I truly appreciate each and every one of you!!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader angst #genshin aether #genshin paimon #x reader

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unbidden-yidden · 2 years

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How We Talk About It

The way we tell stories about our experiences is fascinating in how different it is from the experiential reality of living it.

Life doesn't really have a narrative, does it? One moment passes to the next, one day rolls into another, until two years have gone by, and in hindsight you say, "oh, that was the [X] chapter of my life." It is only with the passage of time that you can look back and see how that piece of the puzzle fits into the others, and how that builds whatever story you've crafted about how you got here.

But you rarely know when you're living it that this is something that is changing you. The things that change you profoundly often feel exactly like every other moment.

But sometimes you do know. Sometimes, something crystallizes in a given moment, and you realize that nothing will ever be the same again for you. Sometimes you just understand that what is happening right now? That's the stuff you'll be explaining and narrating to yourself years down the line.

For me, in those moments, I try so hard to take in everything. The visuals, the way the air smells, the temperature, the exact words used. The feel of the earth beneath my feet and the touch of whatever is at hand - perhaps the texture of the fur of a beloved pet, or the metal of the swing, or the exact pain in my hip flexor.

But even when that happens, even when I know damn well this is important, there are still details I miss and things I forget all too quickly. The moments slip through my fingers like sand and I become distracted by minor discomforts or urgent tasks that need focus and draw my attention away from the moment.

Yet somehow later, that collection of fragmented moments pool to form a cohesive whole that I can explain to anyone else. I leave out the ten minutes I spent trying to find a bathroom, the sand in my shoes, the annoying people at the table next to me. Of course. No one needs to know about those things, and they don't drive the plot forward. Sure, they were just as much a part of the experience as the exact face your friend made when you told her you might be a little bit in love with her, but if it doesn't serve the narrative, it gets cut.

I understand why, of course. But sometimes, I just like to think about those details to remind myself that while I'm annoyed at that person for cutting me off or frustrated by how long this line is taking, that this is all adding up to something more that I will find words for later, when the whole is finally apparent.

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riftwalker-limbro · 11 months

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fractured - part 2

masterpost

----

Debriefing Kali wasn’t the smooth ride Kelth had expected it to be, though it had absolutely no problems letting the drives pass it by - Kelth hadn’t even mentioned it contained recordings by Ordis, it just hadn’t cared about them whatsoever, once it heard that-

“Warframe fragments? Floating in space?” it had asked, signing stilted with what Kelth had initially assumed to be surprise, but was quickly starting to suspect was more like shock, maybe with some horror mixed in, from how often it was repeating questions.

“Yes, and-”

“In- tiny pieces?”

Kelth was starting to get a little impatient. “Yes, could you help us gather them all up? The drives are equally important and time-sensitive, and I can’t split myself or Sufford in two.”

“Yes, of course- send Yura the data, please, I’ll go immediately. No time to waste.”

Kali had left as soon as it had received all the necessary information. Kelth was left staring after its Liset speeding off chasing the signal in grateful confusion. It didn’t look like they would have to worry about that task getting completed.

“Well, Sufford,” they said, turning back to look at their friend. “Ready to go find some more drives?”

He made a show of thinking about it, but signed a quick okay when they started laughing and swatting at him. Ordis was already crawling the Weave for any signs of either of the category of object they were interested in, so to the silence of his concentration did they board the Liset, setting off for their own task, last of the group.

—

Ordis, Kali and Kelth kept an open comms channel, and for the first several hours, everything went smoothly. Kali reported in frequently, Kelth found drives at a slightly slower rate, having switched over to the next planet after Earth stopped pinging on Sufford’s scanners, and Ordis was silent. When asked about this, he grumbled something about human component bottlenecks, and then continued to be quiet.

The total drive count was up to a dozen, the amount of warframe fragments Kali had managed to find looked like it might be the same volume as Sufford’s upper body, and Kelth was getting tired and ready to call it a night then - focusing for so long felt like it was about to give them a headache, and they could tell that Sufford’s energy levels were starting to run low, too. Kali was showing no signs of stopping - it sounded equally frazzled every time it reported in on a new milestone, and the concern and unease that that fostered under Kelth’s skin kept them from returning to Ordis’ Orbiter for a quick rest.

Then, Ordis reported in.

“Ordis found a few Tenno with fragments, a few with drives, but not all are willing to part with them for free,” he complained. “Kelth, may Ordis use your funds to see if these Tenno are to be persuaded financially?”

Kelth didn’t have to think about that one. “Yeah, sure-”

“Yura, give them access to our funds for the warframe fragments,” Kali butted in, grim. “Hustle them, Ordis, but don’t reject if they don’t budge.”

“Only for the fragments?” Kelth asked, surprised.

“You gave this task to me,” Kali said. “My responsibility.”

“Well, I mean, I asked you to help, but you don’t have to-”

“We will help reassemble this warframe,” Kali said, tone brooking no argument. “It is worth every credit.”

Kelth took a moment to process that, slightly baffled. “Well, sure, okay. Uh, same policy for my funds, for the drives, then, Ordis.”

“Thank you both,” Ordis said, already sounding distracted again. “Ordis may need one of you to go pick these up at various relays all over the system after negotiations conclude.”

“I can do that,” Kelth said. “While Sufford and I do that, you can reevaluate the frequencies of the new drives we found.”

Ordis acknowledged that with a short ping. Kali remained quiet, likely on the trail of yet another batch of warframe fragments. They seemed to be showing up in small clouds.

Well, maybe Kelth and Sufford could get in a quick nap while travelling across the system to pick up various fragments and drives. For now, they soldiered on.

—

Ordis was done first - with their combined funds, there had been no Tenno that he had found who hadn’t eventually ceded their drives and fragments to their group. He’d placed posts on forums in various places, hoping to draw the attention from those who hadn’t communicated about their strange finds online and who might be motivated by a financial reward, but that might as well be a dead end for now.

Next was Kali, which wasn’t surprising given its eerily intense motivation to find as many fragments as it could, combined with Kelth and Sufford’s break to go pick up Ordis’ purchases. Done was a strong word, though - they’d found enough fragments for Ordis to reconstruct a rough estimate of what this warframe had looked like before it was destroyed. Yura and Ordis’ scanners couldn’t pick up the frequency anywhere anymore, so this was all that they would reasonably be able to find - any pieces left floating around were likely too small to be detected.

The reconstructed projection was a hologram, floating in Ordis’ Orbiter’s lounge, around which they were all gathered. Kali was standing up, arms crossed, shoulders drawn up high, the picture of distress. Next to it, Sufford appeared calm but curious, and Kelth themself was incredibly intrigued but exhausted, sitting down on the couch.

The projection itself showed a warframe in black, white and blue, with armour like old-world formal dress, shaped like a tailcoat and a top hat. He had fins on his ankles and wrists, elegantly accenting the long lines of his narrow chassis. Ordis had highlighted the missing material in red - the damage spread out from his chest and spiderwebbed across his limbs and head. At the centre of his torso, he was almost solid red.

“The damage is too substantial,” Ordis said, pensive. “This isn’t enough to recreate a viable warframe. The missing material of his chest alone-”

Kali snapped its fingers and started signing, quick and jerky. “Can’t we reuse some parts, fill up the gaps? It’s not ideal, but warframe material is flexible, adaptable - the coattails, can’t we use them to patch the worst of it? We got most of those, right?”

Ordis simulated sucking in a breath. On the projection, the coattails disappeared, and some of the red of the warframe’s torso resolved to neutral grey, to set it apart from the original material in its original places.

“That doesn’t look too bad,” Kali signed, hopeful. “Right?”

“Hmm,” Ordis said. “It looks better, but he wouldn’t be completely stable… If we could also-”

The wrist-fins were also removed from the projection, filling in even more grey material on the chest.

“Like that, he has a good chance of being viable,” he said. “I’m not sure how combat-functional the parts we just removed were, but I don’t want to change too much more about the design, to avoid the risk of him not being able to use his abilities at all anymore.”

“Let’s do it like this,” Kelth said, decisive.

“I’ll inform your Helminth of the changed design,” Kali signed, jumping up immediately. “The material is in there already, right?”

“Kali- wait one fucking second, you’re not the boss of- let’s first discuss the, ah, resource costs of this reparation effort,” Ordis said, tone careful when he could keep it free of glitching. “This warframe has already cost us a great deal of effort and credits, and now it may cost us a small trove of resources, too. Scanning the collected material has revealed that it is missing a lot of basic warframe functionality - no transference bolt, no comms systems, and various other missing or poorly-arranged internals-”

Kali straightened up and started signing immediately again, not letting Ordis finish. “Yura and I will-”

“Ordis, it’s fine, whatever the Helminth needs we can provide,” Kelth said, at the same time.

Kali gave them a look, having halted when they started speaking, and just nodded. “If you need any resources you don’t have or aren’t willing to invest into him, please check with Yura and I first. This warframe should-” it halted for a second, as if unsure what to say. Finally, it settled on: “It’s not right.”

Kelth frowned at it a little in confusion, but after a moment recollected themself. “Alright,” they said. “Let’s do this, then. Kali, you said something about the Helminth?”

“Your Ordis can’t talk to it the way warframes can, and I’m a bit of an expert with it. Also, I want to ensure this warframe gets reconstructed as well as possible,” it said. “Thank you for asking me to help, and for trusting us with this task. We’ll get him put back together as well as possible.”

Then, it turned, and briskly walked out of the room. Kelth turned back to look at the projection in front of them, still slowly rotating. It was now robbed of the coattails and wrist-fins, but slightly less suffused with red than earlier. They sighed.

Kali’s behaviour about this warframe was not making much sense to them. They still hadn’t asked it about its Tenno body, and it wasn’t bringing it up, either. Was this an autonomous warframe? Was that maybe why it was so set on doing right by this broken one?

They’d had a long day, and this was too much to wrap their head around, especially right now. They looked to their side and found Sufford. “I think I’m done for the day, if I’m honest,” they said, giving a tired half-smile.

He nodded. “Go get some rest,” he signed, “I’m going to stay up until Kali’s back on its own ship again.”

Kelth smiled in thanks and got up off the couch, easily finding their balance with their cane, and slowly made their way back to their own room. They were asleep before their head hit the pillow.

#and THIS is the part where you should remember #that kelth and ordis and sufford #may not know everything.

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sqwormywormy · 2 years

Text

Under My Skin

Ao3

Parker finally snags a chance to sleep in a real bed after days of being on the run from every manner of horrific creature. Now if only Ben would let him relax for once.

[Parker Yang & Ben | Kayne Fragment (Original Character), Gen]

Peter Yang unlocks the door to the hotel room, exhausted from a long week of tracking leads and running for his life. He haphazardly drops his fraying satchel next to the bed, undoing his tie as he walks over to the lone table to collapse into the chair. He heaves a heavy sigh through his nose, eyes closed and head tilted back against the chairs backrest.

A minute passes, then- "I still think we should have taken a left at that fork in the road."

Parker internally groans at Ben bringing this up, again, and bites back, 'You're not the one carrying a stack of heavy books and tripping over your feet to outrun a huge bear-horse creature!'

His relaxed posture thrown out the window, Parker tosses his hands up at the end, gesturing as if Ben was across from him. It would have a lot more impact, Parker thinks, if he could actually yell that out loud.

Somehow his retort seems to actually cause Ben to pause in his complaining, and he can almost feel the contemplative frown Ben must be sporting.

"Fine."

Parker can tell that's the most he's going to get out of Ben for now. If he wants to pout the rest of the night then Parker sure as hell won't stop him. He's too wound up now to relax though, so Parker stands back up and busies himself with washing the dishes left over from last night. There aren’t many to do, seeing as he only has to cook for one. The chore is finished quickly, and he’s left standing in a rare silence.

(It's still surprising how quickly Parker has gotten used to Ben's near-constant chatter. Half of it isn't even relevant in the moment, and Parker just assumes Ben loves to hear the sound of his own voice. Or, well, Parker's voice. He can be entertaining though, a childish indulgence to listen to Ben hold a one sided conversation with the latest of a long line of monsters as Parker ensures their escape. It's a comfort, in a way.)

It's too quiet. Ben may be a major pain sometimes... most of the time... But he's the only other person Parker's got on this journey to track down the guy who may-or-may-not still want him dead. But that's a whole other can of worms to open, so Parker resigns himself to making amends with Ben.

Parker counts himself infinitely lucky that this hotel is high end enough to have a radio in their room.

He hangs up the drying towel he used with the dishes and walks over to the radio, dark brown with delicate carvings of branches and vines crawling up the sides. Ben faintly hums, and that's all Parker needs to know that he's been pulled out of the stormy mood he was in before.

Parker kneels in front of the radio and turns the dials until he nearly skips over the singing hum of violins and the blare of trumpets. The song sounds somewhat familiar, and Parker mulls over which song it might be while he prepares for a shower. He's been looking forward to taking a shower for the past few days. They'd had an opportunity to scrub off the worst of the accumulated blood and mud in various restrooms, but you can only do so much with a tiny chest-high sink.

Parker pushes open the door leading to the bathroom and stops by the sink. There's a mirror here, and he finds himself examining the various little nicks and bruises decorating his arms, shoulders, and face. His hand hovers over the largest cut near his collarbone, as if to shield it from view, before he drops his hand to join the other on the sinks edge. It's been long enough that most of them only ache now, red with inflammation but otherwise kept clean by Parker's meticulous first aid. His eyes wander up to his face again and Parker catches a glance of Ben's thoughtful frown before it's replaced by his own tongue being stuck out at him.

As if sensing where Parker's thoughts are leading, Ben remarks, "I think they're fitting for such a skilled private investigator. Adding to our rugged good looks with every new run-in."

Parker rolls his eyes and focuses back on starting the water, secretly thankful for the distraction from his thoughts.

'The 'rugged good looks' can only go so far, we may be approaching 'mauled by a particularly rowdy dog' pretty soon if we aren't careful.'

That earns Parker one of Ben's whip-crack laughs.

The water takes a few seconds to heat up, and Parker can hear Ben humming under his breath to the music playing in the other room. His humming gradually grows louder as Parker steps under the running water until-

"I've tried so, ...not to give in,

I've said to myself this affair never will go so well,

But why should I try to resist, darling I know so well,

I've got you, ...under my skin..."

Parker may be... slightly jealous that Ben is not nearly as tone deaf as he was before all of this.

He washes up as Ben continues to belt out lyrics, cringing against the sting of hot water on raw flesh. By the time he's finished, the radio’s moved onto a song Ben presumably doesn't know, as he's quieted down to humming along with the melody instead. Parker tousles his hair dry as he walks back into the main room, stopping by the radio to turn the volume dial down until the music is more of a murmur. He tosses the towel onto the hotel's tiny bed and starts changing as Ben speaks up.

Putting on his best show host voice, he asks, "Soooo, what is on the menu tonight, dear?"

Parker huffs through his nose and snags the strap of his satchel as he sits on the side of the bed, searching through the contents to find the cans of food they had... borrowed from the last hotel they'd had the chance to stay at. There's only three cans left.

'You've got a choice between creamed corn, refried beans, and... spinach.'

Ben groans, loud and dramatically, "Did you pick those on purpose? You've got to work on your shoplifting skills, this is ridiculous."

Parker rolls his eyes and chooses the creamed corn for Ben, since he's too busy complaining to say otherwise. 'It would be much easier to see what I grab if I don't have to worry about anyone hearing you next time.'

Parker cracks open the can, Ben making a vaguely disgusted noise in response.

"This is so cruel, we can't even heat it up? We're eating it straight from the can? You're a villain, Parker."

'I can live with that.'

Parker savors the quiet while Ben eats. He's not too broken up about not being able to taste what they're eating, this time. In all honesty, he didn't mean to grab the cans they ended up with, and he does feel a bit guilty about it. They'd found out early into their time together that Ben is a picky eater, anything too soft was apparently as appealing to him as mud.

Parker makes a mental note to stop by the general store before they leave town in a few days to make it up to Ben.

It's late by the time they're done eating, and Parker is busying himself with organizing their possessions and folding up his day clothes when Ben mentions the radio.

"Do you remember which station you left the radio on last time?"

Parker pauses in his folding, curious about Ben's interest. They had gotten into the habit of leaving the radio playing at a low murmur while Parker slept, Ben too easily bored to be left with no stimulation for hours. It was a good distraction, but Parker hadn't gotten the sense that Ben had found any specific interest in what he listened to. Seems he may have been wrong in that assumption.

'I don't, sorry. I can go through the stations and see if we can find it again, though. If you'd like to.'

"That’d be wonderful, sweet heart."

Parker huffs through his nose, amused, and lays his pants with the rest of the clothes before heading over to the radio. There's still music faintly playing from it, and Parker turns the volume up a bit more before he starts flipping through the stations, lingering for a few seconds each before moving on.

A few seconds of a piano accompanied by a violin, a reporter covering a string of missing persons cases, a horn solo, a line of beeping-

"This one! This is the station."

Parker realizes the beeping is Morse code shortly before a voice calls out, "This is Dick Tracy, stand by for action!"

Ah. That explains some things. Parker decides to leave Ben to it as he finishes getting ready to sleep. Best not to interrupt when it's just starting.

He adjusts the volume slightly, low enough for the horns not to wake him up, and switches off the lights before he slips under the bed covers. Parker buries his head into the half-filled hotel pillow and tiredly hums to Ben, 'Night.'

Ben murmurs back, "Sweet dreams, love."

Parker feels himself flush at the response before he's dragged under into the sweet embrace of sleep and warmth of company.

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