#dayfour

[petebarton]

Robert Week 2026:  

↳ Day Five: I hate you seeing me like this (aired 18 August 2025).

[thegoodenchantress22]

Day Four - Cave / Warning Sign / Stray

If it weren't for the fact I aimed to do all three of these prompts, I would've chosen some different ideas. However the option of helping to retrieve a stray kitten from a cave was the one to go for (adding the warning sign was also incredibly obvious).

The sign is based off a real one I saw online when I was looking up "cave warning sign"s. A grim reaper with such strong deterring words of warning was certainly what I wasn't expecting, but it was perfect. I was only surprised there weren't many others... I tried to give the background a brush of darker blotches like the cartoon has and, well, I hope you can tell there's a cat in there, haha.

Why are they saving the cat for Harold? I dunno, Harold liked Thurston. I figured he found this stray cat in the cave and asked Arnold for help. With Helga as the voice of reason and Arnold as the good-natured heart, the two would brave the cave and get the cat back. Maybe it really was a stray this time and, with proper care and paperwork, it could finally be Harold's Cupcake. (Harold DID take care of Thurston surprisingly well...)

Thank you for all the love on the previous Days! It's been a heck of a ride seeing all the honestly astounding feedback! Hope you liked this one and I hope you're ready for Day Five!

[donttelljim]

Trust Ch 1

Dragon Age Inquisition Cullen x Lavellan Cullen struggles with the concept of this new spirit, ‘Cole’, at the best of times, never mind the fret of what that envy demon had tried to do to the Inquisitor… Fears that don’t play too well the next time pangs for lyrium affect his thinking. Cullen x Mage Lavellan, following Champions of the Just. The first chapter in a short series exploring the possible fallout of siding with the Templars under such …taxing circumstances. In a Surana Warden worldstate (This fic isn’t Cullen OR Cole bashing! Love them both. Cullen’s just going through something right now) ⁘ A tardy entry for @chaos-company​ Angstpril Day 4 - ‘Facing A Fear’ ⁘ Chapter 2 here (On AO3 here) ======== Half of Skyhold heard it. The roar had come from the Herald’s Rest. Losing no time, soldiers were soon ushering patrons outside, including the bard and highly disgruntled landlord, who was of a mind to seize those responsible and drag them out into the snow himself. Room for negotiation, however, was not offered. Still in its early days, the Inquisition’s forces were a patchwork of uniforms and creeds, but in this instance, all were following the orders of the Scouts. The rehomed templars, the freshest of the recruits, were taking to the expulsion with the most reluctance, themselves treated like civilians as they were ordered out into the yard. The accusation of ‘demon’ that had cried through the rafters urged them to storm in, and several argued with the self-appointed gatekeepers, blades drawn and orbs of mana gathered, but they knew enough to obey in the end. There was a certainty to the people in green; whilst private panic flitted between them in secret glances, they held true. What they were following was no order from their Commander, but in service to their Commander, it went unspoken. Give him space.

Runners were sent for Seeker Pentaghast, but she needed none - she had heard the voice as well as the rest. As had the Inquisitor. Turning from her conversation with The Iron Bull, she stared across the yard to the tavern, her blood cold. Crows flew from its rafters en masse, making the sky a picture of the dread she felt. There was no mistaking his voice. “Stay here,” she ordered Bull, already moving. “You’re the boss.” The Qunari watched her go, rumbling and grunting to himself as he assessed what the elf was running towards. “Boss!” His voice called out across the square. There were few people she would pause for right now, but he was one. She stopped. “That sounds like Asala-taar. Go carefully.” Aredhel nodded, turned, and ran. The stand-off was happening on the top floor. The Commander had armed himself with a broken bottle and was levelling it at the Inquisition’s latest, oddest addition: Cole. “Get out of my head, ‘Spirit’!” he growled, his face twisted in malice and defiance. The edges of his mind felt foggy, his reasoning being tugged from his hands as soon as he grasped it, a pressure building behind his eyes that signalled a desperate need for what his blood remembered relying on. Or, it could all be the further works of this demon. He had protested its presence when it had been brought here, but he had not done enough - he had allowed himself to be overruled, too afraid of falling into his ‘old ways’, but not all knowledge from his past was misguided. He still had some worth. This was a demon, found within a dream inflicted by another demon - it had no business being here, and even less business inviting itself into his thoughts. “But I’m not in your head,” the approximation of a boy protested, voice nasal and deceptively innocent, though the lie was failing. “I am here. But it sings. It is loud, and the song is sad; you do not know if you believe the words.” “Enough!” Cullen lunged forwards, near-frothing as he dove to drive something sharp into this abomination. They could watch whether it would pretend to bleed. He would not stay silent - would not be kept on another leash and coaxed into negligence. He would not have his mind invaded, his thoughts turned into toys, again dragged out into the world through an already gaping wound - The bottle’s journey was purposeful and direct, heading straight for the throat. A blade, he would have sent through the ribs, but a bottle to the neck would do just as well. The boy didn’t move. “COLE!” Cullen faltered; both men turned. The Inquisitor had taken the steps several at a time, elven feet flying up them, though in her fear and haste, each step had still felt clumsy and terrifyingly slow. Below, Cassandra waited at the tavern door: in militant yet fretful whispers, they had agreed to let Aredhel go up alone, but there was a solidarity in the concern that clutched at them as they gripped each other’s shoulders. In less rushed circumstances, it would have been a hug, and it was felt just the same. Cassandra was fast becoming a sister: Cullen appeared to be the hearth around which Aredhel was gathering a new family. Right now, though, that fire was a danger. Slower but with no less urgency, she crossed the final steps to approach the pair, eyeing the Commander as she might a wolf that was yet to decide if it was her clan’s friend or foe. Her staff was not with her, but as a mage, she was never unarmed. “Cole. Behind me.” Her voice was low, direct, quashing the desire to panic and turning it into authority, as her Keeper had taught her. “Commander. Lower your weapon.” Cole did not move. “He wants me to not exist, but I can’t do that. But what he really wants is for HER to be gone. But she isn’t there; not really.” “STOP!!” Cullen’s voice came out desperate, somewhere between an order and a ragged plea. “I can leave, but he’ll keep her there -” This time, Aredhel cut in: “Cole. Stop.” Pained, she looked to the man suffering in front of her: her greatest priority, tattered like a neglected Aravel sail. Had she let this happen? “Do you see what it is, now?”, he demanded. Again, his voice was not angry so much as desperate: a man living a nightmare and wondering why no one but he could see sense. In his world, it was true. “It is a demon. Walking around!” A sound close to a laugh of madness rattled within the strain of his words. She had never heard him like this. “Inviting itself into our heads!” Belatedly remembering her command, Cullen put down the bottle, his eyes boring into the ‘demon’ the whole time, then stepped towards his leader. He hoped that the gesture of obedience would prove his clarity; prayed that she, of all people, would see reason. “It will not end,” he pleaded, a hand taking her shoulder, his voice forcing itself under control. “It will not stop until it has affected everyone.” Even within his fear, there was something else surfacing in Cullen as spoke to her: protectiveness. She realised, with mixed insult and love, that he was seeing a mage open to being misled. “It will tear this whole place down.” “Cullen…” Sympathy ached like growing pains within her bones. There was no risk of her being convinced - she knew he was not thinking clearly on this, and understood why. Cole had been a struggle for him at the best of times, but it was more than that, right now. It was the withdrawal. Looking up at him, she picked her next words carefully, preparing an attempt at soothing him, at talking him down. He interrupted. “It is my job to protect Skyhold, Inquisitor. Please. Let me do it.” All of a sudden, the man flinched violently away from her. He had felt it - invisible fingers in his hair. The sensation landed on him like a spider and clawed unwelcome down his spine. No. Please, please, please…Not here. Twitching, the man rolled a shoulder to knock the echoed intruder away: he knew what it was, that it was not real, but that mattered little. ‘She’ was here, returning whilst his mind was distressed. She moved in his peripherals, proof of what a demon could do to the mind even long after one dragged it out - even if one had never let it in in the first place. Their claws left deep grooves. “I could make him forget…?” Cole offered, helpfully. “DO NOT -! ” “Cole, no!” Covering her face in her hand, Aredhel attempted to hold on to her patience. “Just leave. Please. You’re not helping.” “Alright.” Sullen, he obeyed, disappearing on the spot. Aredhel breathed a little easier, yet Cullen felt no relief. He watched the Inquisitor, half-hearing, half-deaf, as she began on the spirit’s defence. ‘I’m sorry about him’; ‘He helped me’; ‘Are you alright?’. He realised, to his grief, that she only saw lyrium-pangs here, not logic. What did he need to say to be heard? The sensation had not left his spine, his skin still attempting to shrivel away from his remembered, imagined captor. He never thought Aredhel would defend an obvious demon: he trusted her implicitly. ‘Do you know it’s her… ?’ The distorted mannequin of Surana seemed to stand at his side, a hand daring to rest on his shoulder, mouth near his ear as she whispered to him - a recycled memory of her artificial breath hitting his skin as the flashback sewed itself new life. ‘I wasn’t me…’ His stomach dropped from him, his skin ice. The envy demon - the one that this ‘spirit’ had ‘saved’ Aredhel from… - it had attempted to mimic her, hadn’t it? Just as it mimicked the Lord Seeker. Walking, physical. Convincing enough to go unfound for years. Just like Cole. Kinloch’s echoed phantom bit, nipped and tugged, ignored, at Cullen’s ear. But even an enemy could be correct. His gaze levelled on the Inquisitor like a blade, his tone curling with lofty suspicion as it once had often, falling into the familiar register like reclaiming one’s armour. “How do I know what you are…?” Aredhel faltered. “...What?” The imposter’s voice drifted over to Cullen from a great distance, known and convincing, but neither had ever been a guarantee before. Her eyes, so lovely and yet so pained, could not be trusted. That love was what he would want to see; that worry, the best tool to levy against him. “Cullen….It’s me. You know me.” He shook his head, feeling like a child reduced to wordless protests. The detestedly familiar mirage of a woman drifted around the pair, always on the edge of his vision, yet still he could sense the apprentice robe falling indecently from her. He forced himself to focus, instead, on this new creature taking on the form of the woman he now loved. Very likely, it was a demon in elven guise - he knew it to be possible on every level. At best, Aredhel was now a mage who had endured much at two demon’s hands…Grief closed up his throat, his mind clinging to the former suspicion. He had to believe it - he could not face the implications of the latter. Out of the corner of her own eye, Aredhel also saw movement - Cassandra, inching towards the stairs. The elf held out a hand, as minimally as she could, and shook her head. Bringing more people up here would only confuse the Commander further. He needed navigating out of this. Meanwhile, she searched for an answer, brows furrowed. She understood the connections being made here, through the panic misfiring in his mind. It was a valid fear. He may be unwell, but even when this fog cleared, he deserved an answer. “I….will ask Solas to check. He can make sure I’m no demon.” The Commander’s face remained guarded, and even as she spoke, Aredhel knew Solas’ word was not offering enough. Suddenly, resolve hardened in her. With perfect clarity that both came from within and yet felt as though it arrived, fully formed, from elsewhere, she saw what must be done. And not only for him. “...No. The templars.” “The templars?!” Even Cassandra, the Order’s greatest advocate, exclaimed from the room below. Thankfully, Cullen didn’t seem to notice her voice, but he heard Aredhel’s. The man’s face fell in shock, pulled back to himself by the shock but finding a new nightmare waiting in reality.  “What…?” “The templars,” Aredhel repeated, raising her chin and attempting, through declaration, to smother her fear. “We have the benefit of their service now. We might as well use them where they work best. I will submit to their assessment - ask them to check that I am no demon. They will know better than anyone how to test it.” Softening, as though the past threats had not occurred, she offered the man she knew an encouraging smile. “Alright…?” Inside, fear was attempting to pull her apart like fretted wool, but she kept her composure. She could not, as a mage, pledge to lead an army of templars in the name of Andraste and the late Divine without subjecting to the Chantry’s way of doing things. Not after what had happened to the Lord Seeker. Her people had to trust her. And she had to see she could trust them. Cullen crumpled. Boots crunching over broken glass, he closed the last of the distance between them: her hands found his breastplate as, lovingly, all malice gone, he took her arms, drawing her close in a waft of oakmoss and furs. She breathed it in and he breathed in her, her hand finding his face as it collapsed in concern. “Do not do this…” Once again, he pleaded, but this time, his voice was all gentleness. His eyes were lucid - the fog was gone. “They could kill you…” “If I am no demon, they will not.” His lack of faith in the templars was starting to shake her own, but she refused to let it show. It must happen. She knew the reasons: it could not be changed now. “I do not trust them.” His whisper broke her heart, even as his return to himself healed it. He held her as tenderly as he could whilst, all the while, gripping on for fear of losing her - for fear that his follies were about to destroy the last good thing he had left. “Right now, you don’t trust me either, remember?” she smiled, pained. “But you deserve to trust both of us…” The elf reached up and touched Cullen’s hair, looking at him with unchanged love. He would never ask this of her, but that was why she must offer it: for him, and every templar she had saved for him. “And you will.”

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Angstpril 2022. Day 4. Forgotten.

Used alternate prompt 8. no fandom, just my own oc.

.

There had once been a time when this place had been filled with people. The air had smelled of sweet incense lit with each prayer, and there had been many of those. People would come for any reason - warriors would ask for strength in battle, civilians would ask for warriors to return home safe and sound, the unsheltered would ask for warmth in the night, everyone would ask her to bless their loved ones as they passed on and grant them a blessed afterlife. The mosaic of her had towered over everyone in the room, reaching fifteen feet high, the golden tiles forming her sword, crown, and robes glowing in the sunlight streaming through the windows above. Offerings had been laid at the feet of her image - pomegranates (her favourite) and other assorted fruits, beautifully crafted blades (for decoration rather than battle), garlands of flowers of all kinds, as well as small, personal tokens from those bold enough to hope she would take more notice of them if they offered her something special. There had been laughter here, as well as hushed prayers, and singing and dancing on special holidays.

It was quiet now. It had been built in the center of the city, but the city was gone, rotted away or demolished ages ago. Only the temple remained, perhaps out of fear that if they destroyed it, she would retaliate with all the vengeance of the heavens. The forest had overtaken it. Moss grew along the walls and floors. A part of the roof had caved in, revealing patches of sky overhead. There was no light except for what came in through those holes, as the trees around had grown so tall that no sunlight could come through any of the windows it had streamed through before. Her mosaic no longer shone and it wouldn’t have anyway, with or without the sun. The colours had dulled and faded over the years, only a shadow of what it had once been. Pieces had fallen out, and broken bits laid on the floor at its feet - the only offerings this place had seen in years. It was quiet. Not even the birds could be heard here.

She stared up at the faded mosaic. She could still make out her form, looking out over her believers, shrouded in her own sunlight and basking in their love. Never thinking that one day her beloved followers would let this place fall to ruin and disrepair because there was no one left who loved her.

She sat down and leaned against the mosaic, setting her bag down at her side. She wrapped her cloak around herself and curled up into a ball, using her bag as a pillow. She could rest here for the night.

She stared out across the room as she drifted off, and she almost thought she could see figures dancing across the floor in moves that had long since been forgotten, singing songs in languages no one spoke anymore.

[hujanmimpi]

day 4: places i want to visit

where do i start?

kalau inget situasi sekarang kayaknya banyak banget tempat yang ingin dikunjungi. sekadar duduk bengong, hidup seperti warga lokal, atau memang untuk kepentingan kerjaan juga gapapa deh.

setelah akhirnya diizinkan untuk pergi sendirian. rasanya ini jadi momen terlama untuk diam di rumah. sebatas kantor pulang kantor pulang.

jemu? bosan? malas? lelah?

ya semuanya jadi satu. tapi mau gimana lagi? pandemi belum usai. mau jadi egois juga nggak masuk dalam hitungan di kepala dan hati. jadi mari bersabar saja agar segalanya lekas bisa menjadi tenang dan aman.

well, kalau tetap disuruh menyebutkan. mungkin...mungkin ya jawaban pertama saya tetap Jogja. entah untuk bersepeda di malioboro, duduk menunggu matahari pulang di ratu boko, motoran santai di sepanjang jalan gejayan, atau mungkin singgah ke beberapa rumah teman lama. atau ya tiduran aja di dalam kamar, lalu order gudeg, atau bahkan jajan di angkringan. ah kayaknya memang banyak banget hal yang bisa dilakukan di Jogja.

yang kedua mungkin ke Makassar. ngapain? ya sama saja seperti Jogja, apa pun rasanya bisa dilakukan di kota ini. atau mungkin mau sekadar jalan-jalan aja sama keluarga. biar senang, biar tetap merasa dekat, agar supaya tetap ingat bahwa saya ini punya tempat lain untuk disebut sebagai rumah.

lalu selanjutnya, ingin sekali ke Korea. alasannya? ya udah lah udah tahu juga kenapanya. intinya sih hanya ingin sekali-sekali mengizinkan diri untuk menikmati hidup dan berlibur, sepenuhnya, seutuhnya. tidak dengan diikuti pusing memikirkan ini itu, yang memang tidak akan pernah ada selesainya.

dan tempat-tempat lainnya biarkan saja jadi doa-doa yang saya aminkan. nanti kalau sudah terlaksana, baru bisa dibagikan lagi ceritanya di sini.

13 Agustus 2021 - hujanmimpi -

[nexbookz]

Angstprill day 4 prompt: facing fears

I didn't really have a good title for this. Just a Loki/Bruce angst friendship story. 500 ish words. Here ya go.

Bruce wonders how this happened. It's just a stakeout, some of the Avengers hiding amongst abandoned buildings and tall bushes. They're meant to be watching a suspected Hydra base and it's been slow so far. 

Bruce only came because he wanted to get out of the lab. The three others there were Natasha, Clint, and Loki. 

Natasha hides amongst the shadows, blending in like she's one of them. Clint is perched in a tree with a pair of binoculars, quietly chattering through the comms about something his children had done the last time he was home. Bruce is with Loki on top of a building, about four stories high and standing on a ledge that sticks out only about a foot and a half.

Well, Loki is standing. Bruce got tired quickly and was now sitting with his legs hanging over the edge. Neither had a fear of falling, since they would easily survive that height.

And then the fog rolled in, thick enough that they were unable to see the ground below. Bruce is fine with this, until he notices his companion's expression. Loki is pressed hard against the wall behind him, eyes shut tight and face paler than usual. That's saying something, because the only thing paler than him normally is paper.

"Is something wrong?"

Bruce watches him take a quick breath, "No-- No. It's fine."

Loki opens is eyes and stares down at the fog, looking a little sick.

"Are you sure."

"I'm fine."

Uh oh. He's using The Tone. Bruce knows it well enough.

"Loki, tell me. You know I don't judge. Is it the height? You seemed fine with it before..."

Loki meets Bruce's eyes, staring for a moment with a look of distrust and skepticism. It's a moment they've shared plenty of times before. Now it is no different.

"I--" Loki starts, swallowing hard as he looks back toward the fog, "I don't like it when I can't see the bottom."

"Why not?" Bruce asks.

"I just-- I need to know that there's something there. I need to know that if-- if I fall I can stop and that I won't keep falling on and on like-- like--"

Like the Void.

It always comes back to the Void, doesn't it.

Bruce gives him a sympathetic look and motions for him to sit. Loki does so, slowly sliding down while gripping on probably-nonexistent handholds. Bruce puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and the tension fades just a little.

Bruce doesn't say anything, because he's not exactly sure what he should say. That's usually the case. Instead, he's just there as a calming presence. He's there to say "Hey, I can't relate to what you're going through but I'll still be there by your side."

Because that's what friends do.

[klara019]

Angstpril day 4

Betrayal

(please check tags for tw)

The day of their fifth anniversary seemed odd. It was just like any other day, Tenzin would wait for her in their apartment, asking her “how was your day?” and then she would say “like always.” Lin ended her shift earlier. She opened the door with a surprise, that all the lights were turned out. 

“Maybe he’s sleeping,” she thought and put her bag on the chair in the kitchen. Silently, she sneaked to the bedroom and discovered that he wasn't there. Lin shrugged vaguely, took off her heavy armour and sat on the cosy, wooden couch. 

She stretched her arms and yawned, it wasn’t time to worry yet, so she was thinking that Tenzin probably had to stay at work for a little longer. 

She hadn’t noticed when she fell asleep. She rubbed her eyes with a fatigue and got up. After three hours Tenzin still hasn’t come home. Now truly stressed, Lin clothed her coat and started looking for him. 

The streets were empty and ominously quiet. The cold wind made her shiver, so she put her hands in large pockets. 

When she gained to the shore she took a deep breath. Katara was probably sleeping as there wasn’t any light.  Lin came and knocked. After a while, the old lady opened the door.

“Oh, Lin, it’s you. Is something wrong, sweetheart?” she asked politely. 

“I was looking for Tenzin, he hasn't come home yet and I’m beginning to worry.”

Katara looked down with disbelief. 

“I thought he was with you... “

“What do you mean? Is he alright?” 

She smiled sadly.

“He is with someone on the beach. I thought it was you.”

Lin suddenly felt a surge of anger. 

“Thank you, Katara. I’m sorry that I woke you up. Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

Lin went to the beach at a good pace. She was wondering what he was doing and she knew that she wouldn't like it. She clenched her fists as she saw them. 

They were too close to each other, both smiling, holding their hands…

She turned around angrily, debating with herself what she was going to say. After deciding what to do she headed to their apartment. It didn’t take long when he finally showed in. 

Lin was waiting for him on the couch, sitting motionlessly with a lifeless face expression. 

“Who is she?” Lin asked without looking at him. 

Tenzin didn’t answer. He looked confused.

“I said, who was she?”

“Lin, listen to me I-”

“No, Tenzin, you listen to me. I knew that recently we had a hard time but I thought we could get through this. I was doing everything I could but it seems it wasn’t enough.”

She looked at him with regret. 

“You love her, am I wrong? How long were you hiding it? You thought I wouldn’t find out? Well, I did.”

Lin’s voice got softer for a moment.

“I really, really don’t want to end it like this, but you left me no choice.”

She frowned aggressively.

“Now get out of here, unless I do it myself.”

He came closer, he was expecting her to shout, even to beat him. But she was standing still, looking at him mistrustly. Her lips were trembling, barely noticeably. 

“Don’t even try to take one more step. Don’t even think of touching me.”

Tenzin lowered his gaze. 

“Why have you done this to me?” she said voicelessly. “I thought that you…” she whispered the last word so quietly that nobody would hear. But they both knew what she said.

“I…” he started, but didn’t know what to say next. 

“Please, Tenzin, get out of my sight. I want to be alone.”

He nodded and went away, he left behind nothing but pain. 

As soon as he closed the door she started crying. She wasn’t angry anymore, all she felt was true, deep sorrow and emptiness. 

She was shivering on the couch, with face hidden behind her hands. The feeling of loneliness and grief took her over. 

Her sobbing was so quiet, so fragile… 

Like a chirping of the wounded bird.

[kenpiercemedia]

Scenes from #newyorkcomiccon #dayfour at the #javitscenter - here's another shot of the #godzilla vs #spacegodzilla #statue by #xmstudios #nycc #nycc2021 #geekingout w #piercingmetal #kenpiercemedia (at Javits Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVea_ear7JF/?utm_medium=tumblr