#tw:pain

[rexelectus]

● – || Sometimes it does live in my head rent free that Noctis was in excruciating pain frequently but that he did his best to hide it from those around him until he would just pass out . 

[janshu]

CEO!AU Endeavor for @cherrytenko's collab...

Summary: Drabble, 1k-ish words for the CEO collab!

Warnings: Oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, slaps, slight threats, g!n w/ the mention of wife, vague mentions of being a pain bunny & sugar daddy/baby relationship.

"And don't come back until you've filed all the expense reports!"

The day started off poorly. The extensive and frankly redundant meetings did little to quell the rage the Boss was famous for. The little lemmings scurried out of the meeting room as if a fire had been lit underneath their asses. Ants, all of them. That was a compliment. At least ants knew what to do without being ordered.

The head of the infamous Endeavor Conglomerate was a man to be respected and feared. It was easier said than done to avoid his ire. Few employees lasted their internship at the company despite the overwhelming benefits that came with further employment after the allotted training period. They were all either fired due to their incompetence or they quit of their own volition, the stress of the expectations making them crack under the pressure. The businessman who fled from the meeting room weren't met with the usual tantrum that followed after their rough dismissal. They all had noticed how their boss was distracted. As if something more important had caught his attention but there was nothing more important to him than work. Everyone knew that. There had been rumors of a rival company making their way into their territory, making the large amounts of paperwork that covered his desk turn into mountains. The break room was quickly filled with gossiping men and women as they all discussed what could be wrong.

Enji groaned, hand smoothing back the gel that kept his scarlet hair in place. Everything felt hot, his breath was hot, the air was hot, even the leather chair underneath him felt hot. The planet's must've aligned to allow Mr. Todoroki to be thankful, thanking luck that he had been in such a hurry and had forgotten to put his jacket back on. The room felt like an oven so he could only imagine the sweltering heat if he was wearing the navy blue cover.

Rolling up his shirt sleeve he folded the cuffs up towards his elbow, hoping his forearms would catch any light breeze and cool his overheating body. Enji wasn't a man who could go to the gym on a daily, or even weekly, basis yet he still retained his muscles. Finding shirts that weren't tailor made was difficult to his unconscious habit of ripping the seams whenever he flexed, buttons bopping, fabric stretching until all that was left were threads and slabs of fabric. His arms were like the trunks of a great oak tree. Long, wide and covered with scars from his youth. His second defining feature besides his pectorals that connected to his personal favorite feature: his hands.

Oh, he knew very well that he had a hand kink. Twice the size of anyone else's his palm alone could smother a face with thick and wide fingers made it easy to thread into hair and grip a scalp with one hand. They could spread legs apart with ease and when they plunged inside a cunt it was all the prep they needed for his cock. Seeing his hand wrapped around a pretty throat riled him up like nothing else and leading someone's head up and down as he used their mouths as a cocksleeve the best stress reliever. Which was the very thing he was getting to.

One of the massive hands darted underneath the table to spread apart the flaps of his slacks, the zipper as far down as it could go but it still wasn't enough. His scorching cock hanging out in the shadow of the table as drool and pre cascaded down his calf towards his leather loafer. The evidence of lipstick smeared across his prominent V-Line made a messy trail towards the base of his manhood. Your lipstick. The gaudy color you promised to wear if he brought you to work. How could he not take up your offer to pleasure him during his work hours? You knew how hard he worked and how little time you got to spend with him. This was the best solution wasn't it?

"You dirty slut." The same hand gripped the chunk of hair at the crown of your head to pull you up from underneath the table. Your knees lifting off the uncomfortable carpet beneath you by the sheer strength Enji displayed without even realizing. The light hurt your bleary eyes, making you tear up even more than you already were from the burn in your jaw. A light shining on your filthy deeds underneath the table. "You nearly gave it away, whore. What do you think would happen to my reputation if they found out my slutty wife was sucking me off in front of them?"

There was no chance to answer as the other hand came down hard against your cheek, leaving a handprint shaped welt on that side of your face. You may as well have been fucked dumb by the cloudy film over your loving eyes and the lopsided grin that grew from the pain. How lucky was he to find an escort like you years ago who could keep up with his sadistic desires. What turned from a business arrangement to release his pent up frustration out on you turned into you becoming his pretty spouse. His cock twitching against your chest as he caught sight of that big, fat diamond ring on your left hand.

"That's right, you're too dumb to fucking care aren't you? Just my dumb, personal cocksleeve. Get back to work and do better this time, if I hear so much as a slurp during the next meeting then you're going to regret it." The jerk of his wrist pulled at your hair, the sharp pain sending pleasure right to your dripping sex as his hand guided your mouth back onto his cock. Tip prodding your stained lips open to be shoved back down into your throat with an obscene gag, the saltiness and burn coming right back as he assaulted your mouth to his pleasure.

"You have five minutes until the next meeting, you better make me cum or else I'm revoking your allowance." The tip of his shoe pressed into your sex, heel digging into the flesh of your thigh as the rubber gave you the delicious friction to cum for the umpteenth time since he pushed you under there. "Make it snappy."

[thisisthehardestthing]

Waxed - Sero x fem!reader | NSFW

Happy birthday Sero Hanta!

Request: imagine sero tying you up with his tape and teasing you? 👀 Word count: 1,150 Warnings: waxing, pain play, fingering, cold play, restraints, kind of quirk usage, dick at the end; as a treat. Authors note: LMAO I did not expect it to turn out like this. I’ve never written Sero before so I hope I did him proud. Tagging: @whats-her-quirk , @joyousandverywarlike , @elektraeriseros . @mindninjax AGED UP AS ALWAYS.

********

This is not what you meant when you said you needed a wax.

Sero wraps the tape tightly around your legs, bound together from your ankles to just under your knees. You couldn’t wiggle or move them at all, the perspiration from the heat of your skin doing nothing to loosen the glue. Your wrists are wrapped behind your back, back arching to showcase your breasts for Sero Hanta’s easy access. He stands in front of you, chest bare, boxers low with his hands on his hips as he admires his handiwork. 

There were two pieces of white tape on each nipple, a third over your pussy mound and a fourth over your mouth, effectively keeping your moans and whimpers to a mumble. You’re suspended, safely held by ropes around your waist, across your ribcage and up past your head to the ceiling.

He moves slowly, teasingly, his smile wide yet lazy. He drags his fingers up the side of your thigh, caressing the soft skin, and your breath comes out hot against your upper lip from your nose. Your safe word is three quick screams, from behind your gagged lips, or three stomps of your feet.

Sero kneels in front of you, large hands sliding down the front of your body, resting by your ankles and the edge of his tape. He begins to pull. The tape peels from your skin, some hairs plucking with it, inch by inch, and you writhe from the pain. It’s so minuscule, so slow, that it’s over before it even begins. It trickles up your legs and body in a spiral as he unravels his quirk, removing it from your body. You’re moaning, tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and where it stings, there’s an ice cube instantly cooling your flesh, then lips kiss you, making its way up until the sensitive skin of the back of your knees. When all the tape is off, and your legs are free, Sero massages up, dotting kisses and licks, mumbling about how brave you are, how sweet, how beautiful and strong. He stops when he’s risen up, his face directly in line with your sex, and you stare down at him as he looks up at you with cheeky half-lidded eyes, placing a light, barely touching kiss to the strip of tape as he stands.

Before you register what’s next, a tape rips itself from your right nipple, the burn scorching and you cry out, a warm palm with cool fingers applying pressure to the waxed area, massaging as lips kiss down the length of your neck, whispering soothing words into your ear.

“You okay, princess?” the words caress your heated flesh, pain on the surface but pleasure buried so deep inside it leaks through your pores. You nod, knowing he expects an answer, and those iced finger tips feel between your legs at your sopping core, making you moan and the tape vibrates against your lips. “Good girl, you’re drenched.”

A finger presses inside, making your eyes flutter at the intrusion, and as it pumps, the tape on your left nipple tears away, and you cry out, squeezing your walls around Sero’s finger, dragging him deeper inside. He chuckles, pulling out until just the tip of his index finger touches you, before inserting a second finger. The stretch his delicious, much thicker than your own fingers, and moving at an angle you never reach with your own wrist. It’s bliss, and you’re so overstimulated on the surface that your insides hum with electricity. You need more.

A needy whine escapes from your chest and your head falls back; it’s an invitation that Sero gladly accepts as his lips leave bruising marks against the supple skin of your neck. Right when you think you’re breathing levels and his lips feel like home, he pinches the side of your waist, making you jolt and squeak in surprise. It illicits a rumble from deep inside him, his smile widening beneath glinting eyes. You hum out his name, the syllables oddly sounding like both “Hanta” and “Daddy” at the same time.

“Mmm, tape on your nipples is fine, but a little tweak is not? Okay, babygirl, noted,” he says, the hand dancing down your side and wrapping around to grab a palmful of your ass. The heat on your cheeks is ferocious as you blush, shaking your head in response, neither meaning yes or no, just movements from the growing ache in your core.

Your walls are pulsing around his fingers, willing him to move faster, deeper, but he smirks as he curls them up. The hand on your ass moves forward to thumb your clit, rolling the nerves together and you fall limp, hips gyrating to find any kind of friction. You don’t even notice the edges of the tape curl up, and when the pressure from your clit disappears, the palm of his hand keeps your skin taught while the tape is pulled up and away.

The room is filled with your shriek, and you’re sure the window cracked. Your tears roll freely down your cheeks. Oh GOD, that hurt! The fingers in you slip out and in an instant an ice cube from the bowl on the floor is against your mound, cooling down the skin. You glare at your boyfriend, trying to sniffle up fluids from your nose, your leg bouncing impatiently against the thrum of pain between your legs. Still, you don’t use the safety movement, and Sero is quick to soothe you, applying pressure against your inflamed skin while he holds up the tape in front of your face.

“Look at that hair, princess, cleanly ripped with the root,” and it is, the pubic hair bulbs dark against the stark white of his tape, extremely satisfying to see as the strip moves in a wave. “But look at what a mess your face is.” He tuts as the tape is folded between his hands. His thumbs swipe at your tears and the snot is wiped away with the clean portion of the strip. You mumble against your closed lips, feeling incredibly aroused as the pain subsides to pleasure, the build up of your almost orgasm lingering in the pit of your belly. You’re finding it incredibly hard to stay still, aching to feel his touch again.

Sero notices you’re trying to speak, and the tape around your mouth is tugged off, saliva dripping down your chin as it mixes with remaining tears.

“I swear to God, Hanta, you need to fuck me right now,” you threaten slightly, voice desperate but stern, the way you know he responds to. He loves it when you can’t wait to feel him inside you.

“As you wish, princess,” he grins, sliding out of his black boxers and fisting his cock with a few pumps before it nestles between your sopping folds, the tip just barely pressing inside and you groan at how warm he is, how hard he feels. Fuck, who knew waxing was such a turn on.

[pluto-art]

- PINKY AND THE BRAIN - EXPERIMENTS -

Below the cut is a personal project on the much more morbid side. Animal lab experimentation is always something I’ve found equal parts horrible and fascinating. Once in a blue moon, I’ll do research on the subject out of curiosity and/or for storytelling purposes. Even as a kid, I found this of interest, and when watching Pinky and the Brain I was always a bit disappointed that we never saw more of what the characters actually went through in the lab during the day. Granted, there’s a reason as to why this was never shown, as a child audience had to be kept in mind, yet still I pondered about it....

Over the last few days, I’ve been churning out compositions based on internet findings -- old and new experiments that rats and mice are put through, many of them humane, some of them very much not. It was an eye-opening journey for me artistically and otherwise, discovering what I’m comfortable drawing and what I never want to sketch again, as well as learning more about this realm of the scientific world.

WARNING: SOME GRAPHIC CONTENT BELOW THE CUT. If needles, patients dealing with the effects of cancer, and general portrayals of pain bother you, I wouldn’t bother venturing onward. I not only drew out experiments that the characters might have gone through, but also describe all of my findings in detail and provide video footage to go along with it. While I didn’t go full-on vivisection or anything, some of this might still be disturbing, so I’m taking extra precaution.

All of the images below are “color-coded” and graded. The experiments start out fairly tame, then get worse... and worse... and worse. The backgrounds reflect this, going from fairly light to quite dark.

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Experiment #1 - Tail Flick Test

A fairly harmless experiment. The subject is mostly restrained, leaving only their tail exposed. An intense light beam is projected onto the exposed appendage, with the animal flicking their tail when the pain/heat becomes too much. This test is utilized in basic pain research and to measure analgesic effectiveness.

I wanted Brain to wear an expression of deep apathy -- he’s done this a million times and will probably do it a million times more. At this point, he doesn’t even care anymore.

For the background, I simply copied an environment in one of the videos I found.

Video example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzrA1tDTfkQ

Experiment #2 - Rotarod Performance Test

Another experiment that’s generally harmless. One or multiple subjects are placed on elevated rotating rods so as to measure such things as endurance, balance, grip strength, and more.

I imagine Pinky would enjoy this test, as he’s familiar with running on a wheel and actually enjoys more strenuous activities. Brain, on the other hand, would only participate via sheer force. He’d also be more prone to fall after a shorter period of time, getting tired faster than his cage mate.

Video example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v56MtrmWAs0

Experiment #3 - Shot (General)

Nothing special. Just Brain about to get shot.

This is all highly exaggerated, of course. A mouse would simply be held firmly, not strapped down, for a simple injection. Also, I can’t imagine why they’d be shot in the face, although Meg told me that scientists tend to draw blood samples from a mouse’s cheek. Need to look that up. I wasn’t at all going for accuracy here, but rather how it might feel -- how scary it would be.

Experiment #4 - Sciatic Nerve Constriction

An experiment in chronic neuropathic pain, due to the central or peripheral nervous system sustaining damage. Under anesthesia, the animal’s sciatic nerve is exposed via skin incision. The connective tissue between the biceps femoris muscles and the gluteus superficialis is cut. The nerve is then loosely tied with four chrome gut ligatures so to occlude, but not arrest, blood flow. The wound is sutured, the animal is given 24 hours to recover, and then both hindpaws are tested for pain sensitivity. Sounds terrible, but it’s certainly not the worst of the experiments I researched.

I have no idea what’s going on with the coloring in this. Again, going for feel more than accuracy, but the hues are way too calm.

Information link: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/22433911

Experiment #5 - Writhing Test

Particularly cruel test in which acetic acid is introduced into the system, inducing severe internal pain. The typical response includes writhing, abdominal retraction, and stretching of the hind limbs. Despite the test being withdrawn in 2004 for unethical reasons, it is still employed by some.

This was my favorite one to draw. Although the lighting and shading are not the greatest, it made for an interesting experiment. I did not intend for the lines to be so bold, but it kind of turned into an almost comic-style illustration. I ended up playing around with it a bit and like the result enough to post it.

I would not watch the video below if you are squeamish. It is difficult to swallow. On another note, you may find the “Empathetic Behavior: Emotional Contagion in Mice” section in the second link of interest. For cage mates in particular, if one or both mice were injected with the same acid, and allowed to observe one another, an injected mouse would writhe more if its partner was also in pain. I can’t help but imagine Brain and Pinky in this type of situation....

Information link #1: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3543562/

Information link #2: https://www.sciencedirect.com/topics/biochemistry-genetics-and-molecular-biology/writhing-test

Video example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ib63O4F856w

Experiment #6 - Transgenic K5ras Mouse / Nude Mouse (Combination)

Experiment in which cancer is induced in the system. Nude mice are bred for a number of tests, and are used for this one, as well.

My least favorite to draw, but my favorite to color. One particular experiment I found showed a tumor in every follicle on a mouse’s muzzle. Was trying to go for this look, albeit exacerbated.

Information link #1: https://www.cell.com/current-biology/fulltext/S0960-9822(98)70203-9?_returnURL=https%3A%2F%2Flinkinghub.elsevier.com%2Fretrieve%2Fpii%2FS0960982298702039%3Fshowall%3Dtrue

Information link #2: https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2012/08/weirdest-lab-mice/

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Bonus:

This is based on a test that I found absolutely hilarious. There’s a certain chemical, called W-18, that’s been on the drug market for... some years. The potency of it is supposedly insanely high, although this has never been proven. It’s basically a research chemical (created at a university in the 80s) with analgesic properties that were shown to be “painkillers or blockers of the painkilling effect of morphine in mice”. Mice, not humans. To quote a specific article:

“... when they first injected some of these chemicals into the animals at a dose similar to aspirin, the mice stood up for about a minute and fell over unconscious. They remained unconscious – for five days. But they weren’t dead. They were still breathing. And when they woke, they seemed fine, other than being really hungry and thirsty.”

They literally keeled over from the supposed potency of it. From what I recall, they don’t even know exactly what it was doing to their system, other than the fact that it knocked them out. I just find it funny that they were completely fine after awakening days later.

Although the pure smell of it wouldn’t cause such a reaction, I liked the idea of it in picture form and so depicted Brain simply taking a whiff before passing out.

Information link: https://www.forbes.com/sites/davidkroll/2016/04/30/w-18-the-high-potency-research-chemical-making-news-what-it-is-and-what-it-isnt/#2c45a5dd4757

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Experiments researched, but not implemented:

- Tail dipped in ice cold water (mentioned here: cold water) - Morris water maze - Porton Down nerve agent test(s) (the worst; not even sure how I’d depict this)

The Porton Down tests sounded so indescribably cruel that I simply couldn’t bear to put Brain or Pinky through either of those, much less draw them out. It was the most horrific of the experiments I found, second only to a story about a French physiologist in the 1700s/1800s who performed, I believe, vivisection on live, six-week-old puppies. There’s a limit and that’s my limit. Even the cancer-based composition above was difficult to create. I legit felt dirty drawing it.

Researching these subjects was incredibly interesting, and I came across a few articles that touched on animal experimentation and the question of whether or not it’s ethical. Should such practices continue? It’s more complicated than a simple “yes” or no” answer. Some tests are fairly harmless, whilst others border on the inhumane, and some are downright cruel. Some people say that, without testing, there would be a lot less medicine on the shelves to assist in relieving and curing our ailments, whilst others argue that 90+% of the time the testing done is unnecessary, the results yielded by the subjects dissimilar to those that would be shown by humans and, henceforth, stating that the inaccuracies are numerous. This particular article offered up what I thought was a pretty genuine and interesting debate on the matter:

Pain in Lab Animals: How Much is Too Much?

In an interview with Dr. Jeffrey Mogil, a neuroscientist, he mentions that:

“You have complete control over everything in mice. Within limits, you can do whatever you want as long as you minimize pain and suffering of the subjects.“

Full interview: https://www.integrativepainscienceinstitute.com/latest_podcast/sex-differences-in-pain-and-pain-inhibition-with-dr-jeffrey-mogil/

While many establishments do follow the Animal Welfare Act, other laboratories still implement unethical practices. Also, the rules for what constitutes as acceptable in regards to tests that can only be performed without painkillers or anesthesia administered is... nebulous.

Thankfully, there is a number of lab testing equipment on the market specifically designed to be more humane and less stress-inducing to its subjects. These restrainers, for example, allow the animal to “walk in” without having to be physically forced backwards into a container:

Restrainers

Here is another example of testing that is relatively pain-free:

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4401362/

It’s simple and inexpensive while still allowing scientists to perform tests.

Below is a video showing how a type of rotarod works, one that doesn’t place the rods too high and provides a cushion underneath in case the subjects fall:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T38fDS2i13k

This tail flick analgesia meter comes installed with a cut off timer to avoid damage to the animal:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgaStZt143o

So there are options. How often are such options utilized in the field? I have no idea, although there are laws that should be followed and, from the sound of it, generally are adhered to. Not everyone in this business is cruel. Though you do have your occasional psychopath who performs very morally questionable operations behind closed doors, I believe that this is a great exception to the rule, and that there are a lot of laboratory workers who genuinely want to inflict as little pain as possible upon the animal. Just an opinion. I don’t have tons of evidence, but it seems like most people are sane. Lol.

Most of the experiments I inflicted upon Brain because, I think, Pinky is so pure that I have a hard time imagining him sustaining any kind of extreme pain that would genuinely hurt him. Also, he borders on being freakin’ masochistic, finding pleasure in a lot of painful situations, whereas Brain does not. Brain has been through a lot, mentally and physically. It seemed more... “appropriate” to put him in these situations, as terrible as that sounds.

All of that having been said, I never want to do this kind of exercise again. While a lot of it was interesting, and some of it even fun, parts of it were legitimately painful. The cancer one.... I felt horrible....

[paellaplease]

Firebird | Chap.1

pairing: Revali/Original Female Character genre/warnings: adventure, romance, slow-burn. graphic descriptions of pain. later depictions of self-injury. scarring. burning. swearing. canon-typical violence chapter word-count: 2,847

author note: Props to revali’s VA for bringing such an interesting and compelling character to life, especially with the limited screen-time etc. I knew I wanted to write about him the moment he rocked up and started talking.

Hope y’all enjoy the ride. 

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 1: Dagger and Arrow

If there was anything she was completely positive about, it was that death wasn’t painless and enchanting hurt even worse. 

*

She had felt death before.

It was a white, hot pain. Racing through her veins and making her muscles stiffen and squeeze as if she’d been struck by lightning instead of stabbed by a sword. Sometimes in her dreams it starts in the tips of her fingers, others it begins as a heavy weight on her chest. 

All times it hurts and it lingers. Swirling in her abdomen, making her feel sick as she briefly registers that her head was spinning, and the world felt very, very far away. Slowly, the edges of her vision would creep in. The commotion and screaming around her fading away till it was nothing but dull chatter.

Eventually, there would be silence and darkness. The pain ended just about then.

Yes, she’d felt death before. Or at least the worst parts of it. However now, standing in the middle of the Akkala Forge and staring at the lone dagger that sat on its pedestal in the centre of the black marble table…

She realised that on days like these, enchanting sometimes felt worse than dying.

The task was simple enough. The same she was given each month after weeks spent in study and preparation, training both her mind and body before her mentor deemed her ready to perform the procedure. 

Enchant the blade, make it work.

Gently, she exhaled a long, tired breath, glancing at the rune in disdain. There it was, marring the surface of her hand like it always did. An ancient pattern carved deep into her skin like a raised scar. The shape that looked almost like an eye at its middle seemed to stare back at her. What are you waiting for? It seemed to say. 

The rune had been there for as long as she could remember. It was the one thing she had left of her past, and also the main thing that reminded her of what her purpose was right now. 

Every attempt she’d made on enchanting a weapon had ended in failure, some more spectacularly terrible than the last. However today, on the eve of her twenty-fourth birthday, she was determined. She’d studied even harder this year, dedicating much of her free time to observing the smiths, and the rest to visualising the procedure. Today was the day she was to complete what was set out for her.

Gritting her teeth, she focused on the target and fanned her palm open.

The weather in the forge immediately shifted, transitioning from a stagnant cold, to a thick blanket of humidity. It was stifling, heavy in the same way the air would feel in the moments before a storm. 

The energy lying dormant in her veins ignited like a spark, low pitched and buzzing, singing loud and clear in her ears.

Bracing herself, a familiar burning sensation raced from her outstretched palm to the rest of her body, making her bite her lip as she focused on not calling out from how much it hurt.

The feeling worsened with every minute, the magical energy in her left hand pulsing to the beat of her racing heart. Carefully, she bent her ring finger inward, watching the rune illuminate in a blazing flash of blue light.

In an instant, jets of fire crawled up from the edges of the rune and into her five fingers, casting an eerie, orange glow on her pained face and making the air smell of charcoal. She pushed the fire further, the pain in turn worsening and making her head spin. 

Lines of fire raced out from her fingertips, wrapping themselves around the hilt of the dagger first and embedding themselves into the detail. The silver metal, now hot and red, began to melt and warp as the fire travelled up, searing a blazing trail into the metal of the knife.

Then came the worst part. Grimacing in anticipation, she grabbed the blade. 

The first time she had attempted the sealing stage, she had passed out in the workshop. It was the middle of winter then, five years ago. 

(She woke up the next day to the sterile chill of the village infirmary, sore as hell and smelling like a campfire.)

With time, she eventually learned to look past the spots that formed in her vision, fighting through the dull ache in her body and willing herself to stay awake. However, even with years of practice, her body wasn’t fully immune to the procedure’s effects.

She eventually discovered that at her level, her enchanting had a time limit:

Five minutes.

One. She closed her eyes and focused deeply on the blade, imagining the fire as she coaxed it to slither its way into the molecular structure of the dagger, willing it to wrap itself around the rapidly vibrating atoms like a snake in a birds nest. 

Two. With a shaking hand, she lifted the mallet she held in her other palm high into the sky, aligning it with the red star she had painted on the ceiling as a guide. Exhaling a gust of air, warm as oven smoke, she brought the mallet down, letting go of the blade in the same instant. 

Three. The black stone table she worked on shook lightly from the force. In contrast, the dagger she had just struck went immediately still. Steam began to lift from it, small flames licking its edges and casting the room in shadows. 

Four. She felt her focus waver, clutching her hand and falling to her knees-

Not yet! Not done yet! 

A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead, seeming to evaporate before it hit the ground below. 

Five. She dropped the mallet, shakily rising to her feet and swiping the thick cream coloured cloth at the edge of the table, quickly wrapping the burning blade in the material and extinguishing the rising flames.

Release! She ordered it, and the fire and burning in her veins were no more.

For a while, she stood there panting, clutching her shoulder as residual phantom pains echoed in her left hand. 

Swallowing her nausea, her right hand lifted the dagger to the dusty light filtering from the forge’s window. She marvelled at how heavy it suddenly felt, the metal, whilst still hot, laying cold in her hands as if never kissed by flame in the first place. 

She had done it. Her first successful attempt amongst so many. 

“Congratulations, Maiya.”

Maiya jumped, quickly whipping around to face the person standing behind her, still clutching the dagger. 

It was a tall woman, almost seven feet in height. She was wrapped in a dark cloak with light blue intricate designs laced into its sleeves and hood. Her bright, silver locks stood out amongst the darkness, cropped short and slicked back, her wrinkled face clear of distractions just as she likes it.

Seeing who it was, Maiya’s face broke out in a large grin. “Teacher! How long were you standing there for? I did it! I finally did it!”

If she wasn’t paying attention, she wouldn’t have caught the brief, small smile that flashed across her mentor’s face before it was replaced by her ever customary frown.

“I was here for long enough. You did well, my dear.“ 

Her mentor took a step forward, reaching out for the dagger with a black gloved hand. She peeled back the cloth slowly, revealing the enchanted blade underneath.

It was red. Bright red. With orange light glowing and racing its way from the hilt to the sharpened tip, embedding itself into the dagger’s swirling detail and setting the dimly lit room alight. 

"It’s time you find a master for this dagger.”

Maiya opened her mouth, questions bubbling to the surface as her mentor continued. 

“Rito Village, in the upper north western corner of Hyrule, is where you will go.”

“But why-”

“The land is filled to the brim with monsters made of ice and snow. The people there will benefit greatly from a warrior skilled in handling an enchanted blade of fire, no?”

At that, Maiya’s mouth ran dry of complaints, her words evaporating in the heat of the workshop’s air. It was no use arguing with her mentor at this point. But a lingering thought still hovered in her mind like a dark cloud.

“The land is quite far, teacher,” she whispered, looking everywhere but the woman in front of her. She braced for a sharp reprimand for her obvious sign of childish weakness, and was surprised when none came.

“I understand, child. However, I believe it’s time that you venture beyond the borders of this town and see for yourself the riches and diversity of the world around you." 

Her piercing grey eyes seemed to cut into Maiya’s darker ones, distant and glassy. Seeing something she couldn’t.

"An evil is building, my dear. And we must be ready. You learn nothing if you allow fear to dictate your freedom.”

Maiya dropped her gaze to her hands. The rune, ugly and deep, cut through the tan skin on the surface of her left. It stood out, angry and red, contrasting greatly with the smooth, unmarked skin of her right. 

“What of my other element, Teacher? The one that I will carve into my right hand when I am ready?”

“It is ice, is it not?”

Maiya nodded.

“We will begin preparations once you return.” Her wrinkled face twitched into a smirk. “Perhaps the environment will give you some ideas.”

With that, her mentor put both hands on her student’s shoulders, steering her away from the stone bench and leading her to the exit.

“You will be fine, Maiya. Now prepare, I will arrange a space for you in the next merchant trip to the region. Pack warm, you leave in three days.”

———————

Thud. The arrow embedded itself into the center of the target. Thud, thud, thud! Three more, dead centre again, each piercing through the previous arrows with deadly accuracy. 

Thud! Another, still in the centre of the target but slightly askew by a millimeter.

Revali frowned, wiping his brow and nocking another arrow onto his bow. Not good enough.

The forest outskirts a few hours from Rito Village was not his usual training spot. The wind was still fair, and the targets numerous (with hundreds of trees to choose from), but it still didn’t pack the same challenge, the same dramatic drop, the same chilling and powerful air of his beloved Flight Range in the Hebra Mountains. 

However, today marked the culmination of months of training for several of their new aerial recruits, and said Flight Range was therefore currently swamped by excitable Rito’s raring to get a few targets in before the sun set on the horizon. 

And as much as he would love to provide them with a generous demonstration on the highest level one can reach as a skilled archer such as himself, he didn’t believe he had the patience to deal with any novices today.

So…the forests will have to do.

Thud! The arrow went, embedding itself again in the middle of the target and cutting through the three previous others with a bit more force than usual.

The blue-feathered Rito reached into his quiver, picking out and nocking three arrows in one fluid motion. The world around him sharpened, then blurred. Three painted trees for three arrows, his vision hyper fixating on the first, second, then the third.

One breath, another. Now. 

The first arrow sang through the forest, embedding itself into a target hanging from a tree to his left. The second, whizzed past a bit further, passing through the leaves and piercing the hidden bullseye that he had placed underneath the foliage.

The third arrow travelled the furthest. Revali aimed to hit one of the more difficult targets he had planted several meters away. The tree was an ancient oak with leaves mostly orange, swaying lightly in the chill autumn breeze. 

Revali’s gaze sharpened. The arrow dipped and flew, dancing with the movement of the wind, quickly approaching the woman with dark hair that had just stepped in the way.

Wait.

What?

“Watch out!”

It all unfolded instantly. The Rito, in shock, slinging his bow over his shoulder and sprinting towards her, stopping to shield his eyes from the flash of a bright blue light. The woman, in a bizarre twist of luck and fate, hearing his voice and turning at the last minute, the arrow missing her head by an inch and cutting a diagonal line through her long, braided hair.

Silence reigned through the forest for a second. Then:

“WHAT THE FU-”

“YOU NEARLY KILL-”

The Rito stepped forward, pointing an accusing wing at the stranger. “Don’t you dare voice a stupid accusation such as that, I had no intentions of harming you.” He narrowed his eyes, suddenly feeling suspicious. It was rare to see Hylians frequenting this side of the woods, especially with the recent increase of monster activity and abundance of natural predators hiding in the thickets. 

Furthermore, although he doubted her involvement with the troublesome Yiga Clan, whose members have often been known to terrorize the odd lone traveler, he didn’t want to take any chances. “What are you doing wandering the middle of the Tabantha wild? The next Hylian-managed town is more than an hour away.”

He was surprised at the fury in her tone as she tilted her head up to snarl at him. “First of all, birdie, this forest is open to the public. No one owns these trees.” He opened his mouth to bite out a seething retort, but she stepped forward, pushing a finger underneath his beak to snap it shut. He spluttered. 

“Second of all, I’m taking a shortcut. I’ve been travelling west for three bloody weeks and it has been absolute hell. I’m sleep deprived, hungry, and tired. And I’m in a hurry! So unless you know anything about a place called ree-too Village, I’ll be on my way." 

Revali glared. At least that clears a few things up. Were all Hylians this demanding and foolish, or was it just the ones Valoo above was adamant in acquainting him with?

He pushed away the offending finger and rolled his eyes.

"Firstly it’s pronounced ree-toe. Secondly,” he said, mocking her manner of speech, “No. I don’t know anything about the village of which I was hatched and spent most of my life and waking hours. Whatever led you to such a ridiculous notion?”

He raised an eyebrow, watching- bemused, as a dust of pink crept its way onto the haggard woman’s cheeks. It was adorable, really. If only he wasn’t so pissed.

He took her silence as his cue to continue. 

“I wasn’t hatched yesterday. You’re obviously lost. However, to avoid you waltzing into another unsuspecting warrior’s weapon range, I suggest that you continue eastwards that way." 

His bow gleamed in the afternoon sunlight as he used it to point towards a structure which towered and peaked over the top of the trees. "See that stone pillar over there? That’s Valoo’s Spire, follow it and you will eventually reach the shore of Lake Totori. You will meet the Great Hylian Highway once again, and if you manage to follow it this time, the bridge to the village will be made apparent to you.”

He smirked, crossing his wings and tilting his head. Amusingly, she was about a head shorter than him, and she had to lift her dark eyes to the sky to glare at him. “Got all that? Because if not, good luck as I am not the type to repeat myself to idiots who ignore my knowledgeable advice.”

“Alright thanks, whatever,” she sighed, grabbing an elastic from her pocket and pulling her now asymmetrical hair into a haphazard ponytail. She turned “Try not to kill anyone with that bow, Fly Boy,” she called over her shoulder. 

A few strands of uneven, dark hair came free as she walked away. He couldn’t help it. “A very creative haircut, Strange Hylian!”

“Oh shut up!” A shrill yell replied, echoing from the other end of the forest and scaring several birds from their perches. 

He squawked out a sharp laugh at that.

A few seconds passed and she was finally out of his line of vision. Revali of the Rito was happily alone once again. 

“What an unusual and infuriating woman,” he muttered. He had been distracted and decided that now was a good time as any to take a few minutes to collect his discarded arrows and reset his targets.

Revali trudged towards the oak tree where the troublesome arrow was embedded, feeling slightly amused at the trail of shorn dark hair a few steps away.

He reached out towards the arrow, eyes widening in surprise as he stepped closer.

The once brown wood of the arrow shaft was an ashy, crumbling black. The bird feathers of its fletching emitted an unpleasant sulphurous odour, and the metal of its arrowhead was warped and melted like silver molten clay.

It was completely burnt. 

A strong wind blew through the trees, rustling through his feathers as he took a careful step back.

How odd.

[nikokova]

Changes: Prologue

In honor of hitting 100 followers, I decided to stop procrastinating on posting this so here it is. My first fanfiction!

Summary: Logan Summers: One friend, a 4.0, and a huge secret. He wouldn't have it any other way. Virgil Mathews: barely surviving high school, let alone possibly being moved away from his one and only friend just so he gets to experience what its like to “Have a family”. Patton Pennington: can’t remember having a friend in real life, hopes that his parents taking in a foster kid can change things for him. Roman Royal: Arguably the most popular boy in school, but when he hears that the high schools are merging next year, will he be able to mend his checkered past?

Pairings: slow-burn analogical, slow-burn royality (because I don't know how to write anything else)

Warnings: Angst, bullying (verbal and physical), mentions of pain, injuries, foster care, crappy writing, please tell me if I’m missing something!

Word count: 2,670

Tags: none yet, but please put in an ask if you want to be on it!

***

Running through the playground towards the woods is not how Patton envisioned the end of his day at his summer program. But now that he thought about it, he really shouldn't have expected anything else. He knew that Roman was going to be there. He also knew that Roman Royal had an agenda against him since the 4th grade, and he also knew that Roman would never let him get away.

“Just stop trying to run, you can’t get away from me!” Romans' voice was louder than before. Patton pushed himself to run faster as he passed between the swingset and into the trees. Sticks and wrappers lied all over the ground along with leaves that hadn't quite faded away from last fall. Patton ducked left and right swerving around the biggest trees to see if he could throw Roman off, occasionally lifting a hand to get his curly red hair out of his eyes. He didn't dare look behind him, nor did he have time to before he got a close up look at the flowers spread on the ground. The body sitting on his back stood up and flipped him over as tears ran down the cheeks that were already stinging from scrapes. The look of anger on the tanned boys face made Patton start to squirm. Roman looked angrier than he ever had before.

“What did I tell you?! You’re so stupid, no wonder your parents hate you. That's why your mom got another boyfriend isn't it?”

“Please stop!” Patton cried, but his bully continued, setting his knees onto Patton's wrists.

“Cause you weren't enough for her, you and her husband were so stupid she needed someone smart huh?” Roman hissed, his raven black hair falling over his eyes in small waves. He leaned in close to Patton's face, his breath hot and humid.

“Th-that's not why! People can like more than one person, and like any gender--” Patton protest was cut off by a fist colliding with his jaw.

“Shut up! No one wants to hear you talk anyway.” Roman growled, the heat and anger in Patton grew.

“Why are you so mean to me? I’ve never done anything wrong to you!” Patton screeched, praying that his papa might get out of work early. And that maybe the sound of him pulling into the parking lot would make Roman leave him alone. Roman’s nose scrunched, causing his freckles to fold together in the wrinkles. Finally, all of Patton's fidgeting paid off and he was able to wrestle his wrists free from Roman. Before the taller boy could pin him again, Patton placed his hands next to his sides and used all of his might to push his body up and throw Roman off of him.

Before the other had time to react he was running again. His eyes scanned the area if he could just make it to the parking lot… Someone had to be there, and Roman would have to leave him alone. Then he can just tell his parents that he fell while playing tag. That should work, it's worked before.

He had almost made it to the edge of the woods when there was a sudden weight on him again, dragging him down face to face with a candy wrapper. At first, his only thought was, ‘huh, a Hershey's bar’, before his mind actually caught up to what that meant.

Of course Roman would've caught up to him. Roman was bigger and stronger than him even though Patton was older.

“Stop running away you coward!” Roman growled flipping Patton over again. Patton barely had time to lift his bruised arms over his face before he was suddenly being pummeled. He could hear Roman yelling something at him, but what he said seemed to be blurred out behind Patton's own thoughts. He never really imagined this ever happening to him. Sometimes it made him wonder if his dad had just read him too many fairy tales growing up.

He kept his eyes shut, too afraid to move. Too afraid to make Roman angrier. Too afraid to make his mom worry. He choked back tears and kept biting his lip. He wondered if the iron he was tasting meant that he broke through the skin on his lip or that there an abrasion from somewhere else on his face. How would he explain this to his parents? He didn't want it to get worse, and telling parents always makes it worse. After a second he realized he no longer felt the pain of Roman’s beating. He wondered if mental pain worked like that too. That maybe after a while of feeling it, you just become numb. A loud honk threw his mind to a halt, along with the boy sitting on his torso. The weight on his stomach was lifted as Roman got up, it was probably his dad's car.

“I hate you.” Patton could hear roman grumble. “Pennington is a stupid last name I hope you know. It's stupid like you.” He spat. Patton left his arms over his face as he heard the sticks crunch under Romans feet. He continued to lay there for a while, even after he heard the tires pull out of the parking lot. He didn't even put his arms down until his heart stopped beating all over his body. It took awhile for him to sit up and look around. The area had settled into a quiet swish of tree branches, with the occasional car horn from the road that wasn’t too far away. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands before taking a deep breath. He had to get cleaned up and think of an excused before Papa came for him. He also had to find out where Roman hid his backpack anyways.

Patton pulled himself up and made his way to the playground on jello-feeling legs. Walking across the wood chips to the concrete stairs that lead up to the side doors of the school he let his hand glide across the rusted railing. The doors were luckily still unlocked, meaning there must've been other summer programs in session. He could hear his sneakers squeak as he traveled down the hall, turning right, dragging his hands against the could green lockers. Sometimes he wondered why they even had lockers since they didn't let anyone use them. Well, there was this one that was always unlocked on the second floor. But that was Patton's secret hiding place. He took a left into a small hallway where the boy's bathroom was.  Before he could open the wooden door, he noticed a backpack sitting in the trash. Of course, that's where Roman left it... Patton sighed and took it out before flinging it over his shoulder, letting out a small gasp as it rubbed against his arm. He blinked away the tears that stung at his eyes and pushed the door open, hoping he’d never have to see the face of Roman Royal ever again.

***

To say that Logan didn't enjoy the presence of other people would be an understatement.

Even at age 11 he found others to be irritating and assumed he would prefer to be the only human left in existence if it weren't for the fact that others were a necessity for the creation of books. If he was going to be honest, books were the only reason he tolerated people other than his father. His dad was the one to introduce him to books, knowledge, and facts after all. Being the famous lawyer, Robert Summers, one of the first things he taught Logan was that the truth is more important than anything else. While his father did teach him his favorite life lessons, he was often gone on business for weeks at a time working different cases. And while he was proud of his dad, his absence left Logan alone with his mother. She was the reason Logan ever had to go against his core beliefs about the truth because she always helped him to realize he didn't deserve the truth no matter how hard he tried. When Robert did come back home he would always bring Logan a new book to read. This book Logan would carry around, even after he finished it, until his father returned with a new one.

Logan retracted his hand from the brick wall of the foster center to flip to the next page of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It didn't really matter that he had read this chapter 4 times already, just that he had something to read while he walked to the library. He didn't look up from printed words as he placed his hand back on the wall, feeling the ridges numb his fingers as he dragged them across. He’d memorized his way to the library when he was 7 and walked the path at least 4 times a week. Logan looked up and swerved away from the wall to avoid the white stairs that protruded from the building. After he quickly looked back down and ignored the fact that in doing so he joined a group of children exiting the foster facility. Kids shoved him from all sides causing him to huff and push his glasses up in frustration. Clamping his book shut with one hand Logan looked up to see if he could navigate out of the crowd. He slowly pushed in with the other kids to make it to the outside of the group, and he almost did. Except that he noticed something that caused him to hesitate. A smaller boy who was completely covered in dark clothing, including a black hoodie with the hood drawn up. Logan immediately decided it was more important to let the younger child know of the safety hazards of wearing so many clothes in the hot summer afternoon. Walking a couple blocks in a large group would make it even worse, it was possible the kid could suffer from a heat stroke at this rate. After a second of contemplation, he pushed his way through to the other kid, now noticing the boy wasn't much smaller than himself up close.

“Um, excuse me. You are aware that it is 82 degrees Fahrenheit, are you not?” Logan asks looking down at the top of the boys hood. He looks up and sees a giant marbled white building up ahead, that he instantly recognized as the library. He looked to his right to see the bricked barber shop between the bodies. Then to his left, over the heads of the shorter kids to see the apartment building Logan's favorite librarian lived at. Often he would accompany her on her walk home from the library after staying later than he intended, though he seemed to intend to do it more often now as he enjoyed the conversations they could have about the language use of the author he was currently studying. It took him a couple moments to reel back and realize he still hadn't gotten a response.

“Hello, my name is Logan. Perhaps you didn't hear me, its 82 degrees out right now. With the way you're dressed it is quite likely you will suffer from heat stroke if not properly ventilated.” Logan tried again. This time, he made sure to observe the hooded child. Logan noticed the way he shook inside of the jacket, His breathing also appeared to be shallow. Logan brushed off the fact that he was ignored, again, and chose to lean forward to see the boys face. It was pale, blue eyes wide while his dark russet hair fell over them. It didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place in Logan's brain. The dark clad child was experiencing a panic attack.

Before he could formulate a plan of action to best help the boy he was suddenly pushed by the taller girl to his left. He looked over and noticed the group was moving around to climb up the tall steps to the library. His eyes returned to the shrinking boy he had previously been pushed into, the boy seemed to be trying to force himself further into his hoodie. Logan huffed at this and went back to planning how he could best help the boy. Bringing him to a quiet and unpopulated part of the library was probably his best bet. Along with running through the breathing exercises, Logan had memorized a month ago.

Logan noticed the boys sneakers as they walked up the stairs. They were black, not an uncommon color when someone wanted shoes to last and appear clean with minimal upkeep. But they had few scrapes and did not appear to have any dirt stuck to the sides. At first, Logan assumed they were relatively new. Until he noticed that the leather was dulled. Meaning that this boy didn’t participate in outdoor activities such as sports or other outdoor games Logan never understood the appeal of, causing his sneakers to remain looking new.

Logan was again snapped out of his thoughts by a hand grabbing his sleeve and yanking him back. He looked up immediately to see the white marble of one of the pillars guarding the doors. he turned to his right to thank whoever had stopped him from walking face first into the column to see the hooded boy still holding onto his sleeve. His hood was down now, most likely from leaning forward quickly to stop Logan. Logan opened his mouth to utter an apology but was stopped by the way the other boys blue eyes seemed to reflect the light from the sun.

“Are you ok? You didn’t actually walk into it, did you? I thought I had grabbed you in time but I guess not, sorry.” The boy muttered, again shrinking into his hoodie.

“Nonsense, you stopped me right on time. Thank you for that, and I apologize for making you have to grab me, and for getting distracted by your eyes.” he stated, not seeming to notice the boy begin to blush. “I don’t know if you were able to hear me properly earlier, but my name is Logan. Logan Summers.”

“O-oh, I’m Virgil.” The boy stuttered in reply, it seemed that his adrenalin from having to save Logan was wearing off and turning back into extensive worry. It especially didn't help when he noticed he was still holding Logan's sleeve. Logan didn’t say anything as Virgil let go of his sleeve and dug it back into his own pocket. The taller boy now looked up to observe the area. It appeared that the rest of the group had gone inside, leaving the street quiet and empty. The only other person on the sidewalk was the old Mr. Crocker who owned the grocery across the street, sweeping the sidewalk like store owners often do in movies set in the early 1900’s. He turned back and looked at Virgil, who now had his hood pulled back over his head.

“We should probably head inside. I know a quiet spot in the back of the library I think you will enjoy. Is that alright?” Logan asked, Virgil just looked up and nodded slightly.

“How old are you anyway? You talk like a doctor in the movies.” Virgil giggled, his mouth opened into a small smile and Logan was able to see a chipped front tooth.

“I am 11 years, 4 months, 7 days-” He gets cut off by a laugh.

“Alright, alright. I get it calculator watch.” Virgil laughed, shaking his head. Logan opened his mouth to lecture him on why it was rude to interrupt someone, but noticed that the boy seemed calm now. He definitely didn't feel like scaring this boy back into a panic, especially since something about him made Logan enjoy talking to him. “So, is this area of the library really a quiet place?”

***

A/N: Sorry this is crappy, hopefully, the next chapters will be better. They will be less angsty, I can say that!

Next

[leadpaintrose]

Slowly Infecting Everything

From this suggestion.

Anti was spreading. Sometimes it felt like you were the only person who ever realised what he was, what he was doing. The others all seemed too enthralled by him, giving off the fear and uncertainty and pain that he craved. Staying up late a night, editing him, inviting him into their systems through his image. Inviting him into their minds through their obsession. Inviting the pain and fear that he revelled in.

How could they not see it? Jack had specifically said that he was going to give Anti stuff a break, but had constantly played games with glitches and creepy moments, with characters that sought to use the player as their tool to control those around them. He had all the other egos under his thumb - that’s why they seemed to be missing. Apparently they weren’t enough to sate him.

You were watching Jack’s latest videos, looking for any sign of Anti. He had been in so many, but it was like everyone just didn’t want to see him. Or couldn’t. You had been able to avoid him for a while now. But you were sure he’d noticed your efforts. The video froze, an error message popping up in the centre of the screen.

                                                 You wanted me?

Trying to keep your breathing under control, you closed the message. Another took its place.

                                                   Well, here I am.

Ok was your only option. You clicked it and your whole screen went black, flecks of white skipping along the edge. Giggling sounded from the background and he glitched across the monitor, the sharp sheen of his knife just visible with his eyes. Practically throwing yourself under the table, you ripped out the power cord. Everything shut down, but Anti lingered on your screen for a few seconds too long. You swore, backing away from your set up, hoping you had stopped him before he got in.

Your lights flickered, the broken TV from the next room sounding static and laughter. The speakers, still plugged in, emitted screams and the hard sound of a knife slicing along metal.

He was everywhere. You were surrounded by technology - computer, phone, tablet, speakers, consoles, everything! There was tension in the air. Like he was looking for something new. Some new technology to corrupt, new electricity to control.

You.

Your eyes, screens through which you viewed your world, filled with static, green and sickly. You could feel your thoughts turning, the synapses in your brain firing and connecting, forcing his voice and pain into your mind, allowing him access. Dropping to your knees heavily, you shut your eyes against his face, trying to push out the blackness you felt growing there.

“You thought you could be free of me? I don’t even need strings for you!

“I am everywhere! I am eternal! I’m not stuck in some…WEAK BODY! Not like you, and HIM!”

“You’ll be such a fun puppet to control. Go on, keep spreading me. I know you can’t stay away from me for long.”

Clutching at your face you tried to hold your body back, electrical pulses shooting through your muscles as they walked you back to the computer and sat you down. Your veins fuzzed, static and sharpness followed by numbness as stiff fingers typed unwillingly. A new theory - new info. Suggesting that talking about Anti encouraged him, helped him grow. You told people not to respond to him, to ignore him, to avoid him at all costs. It was important!

It posted, and the slow beginning exploded suddenly into frantic notifications. You scrolled through the first few to find where the popularity had come from, and you breathed in sharply, your lungs burning as you held them motionless. The familiar green logo. Jack had liked it. More comments, people noticing Jack’s mark.

“Well, isn’t that grand? Your favourite boy. Guess they still don’t get it. Say hello to your new friends.”

Your eyes flooded to black, and the static and pain in your blood started to feel right. Fingers flew rapidly, responding, posting, spreading. For the first time this morning you spoke, the voice yours but shattered and broken.

“I’m a good little puppet.”

[mushroommonarchypeach]

continued from https://lylxt.tumblr.com/post/171887761643

Peach was already out in the courtyard, having tea with Toadsworth, when she saw the ship appear in the sky, and violently crash into the plains outside her castle. Peach of course recognized the ship immediately, knowing it was either Fox, or one of his teammates. However, something in her gut told her it was Fox, and that made her worry all the more.

Though Toadsworth recommended the Princess stay behind, she led a group of her finest Toad Guard out to meet the ship. The Toads were armed with spear and shield, though some also sported renovated models of the Super Scope from Smash Bros. As they approached, a portal, like the same one Fox had come through, opened up. From the other side came dark looking ships, firing at the Arwing on sight. Peach knew the Arwing wouldn’t take much more, it was already broken and in flames. She ordered her guards to fire on the ships, not really caring who was in them, not right now. Not when her friend was in danger. 

Peach noticed a particular Toad having trouble hitting the targets, who were now strafing and attempting to evade the Toad’s fire. Stubbornly, she wrested the gun from the little Toad’s hands, and charged up a blast to full power, having perfectly aimed it. to cause one of the ships to spiral down into the path of another, taking two out in one blast. With this, Peach saw her opening.

Ignoring Toadsworth’s requests that she stop and return to the group, Peach ran, kicking off her high heels as she went. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, making her way around to the front side of the Arwing. She could see Fox in the cockpot, broken and bleeding. Hurting, and in need of help. 

She beat on the glass, before picking up a large rock and slamming it through. The glass breaking got her arm, tearing her glove and drawing a small amount of blood. She ignored the stinging pain and tried to step over the glass, reaching to pick Fox up, taking him out of the cockpit, and running out of the ship for dear life. As she ran away from the Arwing, several Toads were converging on it to put out the flames. She prayed that Fox wouldn’t lose anything of value in the ship’s damages. 

Peach carried Fox all the way to the castle, her adrenaline keeping her going despite the pain in her feet and arm. Several medic Toads were there to take Fox, bringing him to the castle’s medical center. Toadsworth finally caught up with the princess, and saw that she got her minor wounds tended to. But all Peach cared about was Fox.