My Stuff - Tumblr Posts
Lost steam on this, but figured I'd post anyway
(Oh! I recently passed 1k follows on here! Thank you all for the support!! ❤)
Happy let papyrus say FUCK day
square child doing square things
(also last piece this year yay)
*puts flowers on mercs*
*puts flowers on mercs*
I had TON of fun making these edits, feel free to use if you want! Made with DADA app
I would totally read that and be obsessed with it.
Imagine Jordan taking a hit from another supe and it messes with their power...
Imagine Jordan taking a hit from another supe and it messes with their power so much that their male and female forms separate into two people, with glitchy memories and eventually a ridiculously competitive attitude when it comes to their not-so-secret anymore crush on you.
Blue Collar
Jason Todd x reader
Reader: Female
Warnings: Pet death (dog), angst, sad reader, my writing cause that’s a ALWAYS a warning
Why I wrote this: Because I had to put my dog down on Saturday 25 January 2020
Jason Peter Todd wasn’t known to be a light sleeper. In fact if he did wake up early it was only because he’d had a nightmare but you would always be there to calm him down and reassure him that everything’s alright. You’d never wake him up early anyway as he nearly always came home late from patrol. He’d come home at 2am tonight.
Jason wasn’t awake, not fully at least, but awake enough to know that something was wrong. It was like a sixth sense. His brain kicked in making the sleep Jason was clinging to evaporte like mist. He opened his eyes to see you huddled over, back rising and falling erraticly. The sleep was still in his ears and he couldn’t hear anything which made him panic more.
Pushing the covers away he frantically pulled his way over to you and sat next to you on the bed. He saw the tears before his hearing finally kickstarted like an engine. His face turned to a frown and his heart broke at the sight of his beautiful girl crying.
“Baby? Y/n what’s wrong?” He questioned. She opened her mouth but no words came out just a choked sob. She grasped whatever she had in her hands tighter. Jason’s eyebrows furrowed until he made out what it was. A dogs collar.
“He’s gone Jay. “ She finally managed to utter out before the tears came back. Jason placed his arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to his chest as she sobbed staring at the collar through blurry eyes. “His kidneys were going when my parents took him they said he wouldn’t of lasted much longer anyway.” She sobbed again and Jason tightened his hold on her. “They said we did the right thing we ended his suffering earlier but why does it feel so wrong?”
“It’s because you loved him and he loved you. You didn’t do the wrong thing and it’s natural that you should feel like this. He’s never gone anyway he’s always going to be in your heart. You wouldn’t want him to hurt would you?” She shook your head “I know it’s hard babe but he’s in a better place now.”
“Yeah.” She muttered tears slowly stopping and her grip on his collar slowly loosening. Jason smiled at her and she smiled back, it was full of sadness and pain but it was a smile.
“I’ll always be here for you y/n I’ll make sure you get through this.”
“Thanks Jay.” She said wiping the tears from her eyes. He pecked her lips noting how salty they tasted.
“How about we go back to sleep yeah? I’m sure all that cryings probably made you feel wiped out.” She chuckled and it sounded like music to Jason’s ears. They both got back under the covers and she laid her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he traced random patterns on her. Eventually they fell asleep. Y/n still held onto his blue collar, she’d bought when she first got him, knowing that although her dog may not be here physically he’d always be with her in spirit.
Ok wow that was a shitty ending sorry. But I couldn’t write much more on this cause I was crying so much. The pictures below are of my dog Dougal. Love you so much pal I hope you’re having loads of fun in doggy heaven
I Need My Girl
Jason Todd x fem!reader/ (Slight) Garfield Logan x reader
Inspiration: Song: I Need My Girl by The National
Summary: The reader (Jason’s crush) pushes him out of the way to save him. The reader goes to hospital and while Jason’s and the rest of the Titans are waiting for any news Jason’s guilt eats him alive.
Warnings: One swear word, angst, fluff, first kiss as a couple, reader almost dies, Jason crying cause he’s my baby and I don’t want him to cry but I make him cry anyway and I should really make a happy thing with Jason but I just don’t ???
“Jason look out!” She shouted pushing him away mere seconds before she took the blast. Everything froze and Jason couldn’t hear himself scream but he felt it. The burning of his throat like he’d swallowed a wildfire slowly turned to coal that weighed in his stomach as he made his way to her. He fell to his knees and pulled her softly so that her head rested on his thighs. He just stared at her with blurry eyes that seemed to her blurrier. That’s the last thing he remembered before he was waiting in the hospital.
Dick, Rachel and Kori sat on the scratchy and uncomfortable hospital chairs. While Jason and Garfield paced around the waiting room.
"Guys could you please sit down you're making me more nervous." Rachel said as her head was in her hands.
"No we can't. Look I'm sorry Rach but I'm not going to sit down. I can't. I can't-" Garfield put a shaky hand through his green hair as he let out an even shakier breath. Kori stood up and made him sit down.
"Why is no one saying anything?! Jesus Y/n could be dying or dead because of me and no one-" Jason shouted
"Jason don't talk like that." Rachel muttered, eyes brimming with fresh tears.
"But it's the truth." Jason countered
"Would you two shut it." Dick said. Everyone jumped that was the first thing that Dick said since they'd been in the waiting room.
“No Dick I’m not shutting up. Y/n is one of us. If she wasn’t so fucking selfless then I would be in the hospital bed that she’s in and to be honest I’d trade places with her in a heartbeat. I’m not bothered about people dying. People die everyday but I don’t want her to die today." Jason got up and walked off. The cold air bit him but he couldn’t care less. His mind was whirling. Why him? Why did you save him? Out of all the team why would you save him? He didn’t have powers like Kori or Raven or Gar. He was a shadow to Dick. He knew he’d never be what Bruce wanted him to be. Bruce wanted him to be like Dick but he wasn’t.
I can't get my head around it
I keep feeling smaller and smaller
I need my girl
After what felt like eternity one of the nurses came.
"Excuse me are you all here for Y/n Y/l/n?" A nurse said everyone looked at her.
"Yes we are. Is anything wrong?" Kori asked. The nurse smiled warmly
"No nothing's wrong, your friend is lucky to have survived that." Garfield nervously chuckled putting his hands behind his head and resting on the back of the seat
"Yeah she is a lucky charm."
"You're free to see her now." The nurse informed them, everyone got up quickly.
"I'll go get Jason." Kori said everyone nodded as she went out the door to find him.
***********
Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of a heart monitor was the sound that filled her ears as she woke up slowly. Y/n slowly blinked and groaned at the light. As her eyes adjusted she could make out three figures; Garfield, Dick and Rachel. Her voice was hoarse.
“Where’s Kori and Jason?”
"Kori went to find Jason. He couldn't handle it." Rachel said her chin length bon was slightly messy. Guilt filled Y/n. Y/n and Jason has always been close since she’d first joined the Titans. She’s seen sides of Jason none of them ever would. She didn't even want to think about what could've happened if she hadn't of made it. She shook her head.
“You have no idea how happy I am that you survived.” Dick spoke she chuckled slightly.
“You and I both Dicky.” They smiled at each other.
“Y/n/n." She heard a voice say barely above a whisper, the team made way for Jason as he hugged her.
"C'mon guys lets leave Jason and Y/n for awhile. Glad to see you’re better Y/n." Kori said. Everyone left but Garfield cast one last look at Y/n before Kori gave him a quick, swift kick in the shin. He let out a soft groan before leaving. Jason and Y/n laughed. They both nodded in thanks. She returned the gesture before walking out.
"I'm guessing the team have already said how glad they are to have you back." Jason said
"Yeah." There was a silence. "Rachel told me how you couldn't handle it." Her voice was sympathetic. Jason chuckled as a few tears streamed down his face. Y/n laid a hand on his cheek and he nuzzled into it.
"I am sorry you know. I thought I'd be stronger but when the doctors weren't telling us anything it hit me like a truck that I might be losing my best friend and when I thought I'd lost you. You have no idea how scared I was when I thought I would never be able to tell you how much I-" Jason cut himself off before he went any further. He stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and broke eye contact. Y/n raised a questionable eyebrow but said nothing.
“Now you know how I feel when you get hurt.” Jason chuckled “besides it’s gonna have to take a lot more than that to finish me off. I am a Titan after all.”
"To right you are. No wonder your nickname’s lucky, you've always been lucky you know ever since you came into my life I feel like it’s become a better place.”
“I know Jay.” The air was filled with a comfortable silence except for the beeping.
“Jason.” He hummed “what were you going to say before you cut yourself off?” Jason looked like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t of been doing.
“You know the usual sappy stuff when you nearly lose someone.” He said taking his hands out of his pockets and using one to rub the back of his neck.
“So say it.”
“Huh?”
“Say the sappy stuff that people say when they nearly lose someone.” There was a mischievous glint in her eye and Jason chuckled.
“Fine. Y/n Y/l/n I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Everyday you make my life a better place and I feel so much happier with you by my side.”
“No offence Jay but that sounded more like a marriage proposal and you can’t propose without dating a girl gees Jason.” She said laughing. He grabbed her face and pushed his lips to hers. They moved in sync as she grabbed his wrist. They broke apart and Jason opened his mouth "I feel the same bozo don't worry." He smiled.
"Which is why I've decided on something that will keep you out of harms way. You're never going on a mission again unless you're with me," Jason told Y/n in a half joking, half serious tone.
"Well you are the reason I’m in here anyway. But if I don't go how am I supposed to help you out. The whole team knows you never think of a plan." Jason laughed.
"So you never look behind you. Is there a reason for that or did you just do it?" Y/n shrugged.
"I guess if I look back then I'm scared I'm gonna get lost in the past and I won't be able to do anything 'cause I'll be stuck there. I’ve been stuck in the past for to long and I need to change it but no matter how much you want to change something in the past it's stuck there now forever and there's nothing you can do about it. " Jason was left speechless he never though there would be an actual reason as to why she never looked back. It scared Jason how she never had any emotion in her when she said that or in her face. "Besides I didn't want to see how far you were behind me." She added with a light laugh.
“More like how close I was.”
"Yeah right. I was faster than you and you knew it." They both laughedz
"Sir I'm sorry but visiting hours are almost over and Miss Y/l/n will need to get some rest." Jason nodded and pressed a long chaste kiss to the crown of Y/n’s head.
“Soon as your out of here I’m taking you on a date.” He whispered
“Can’t wait.” She whispered back and Jason broke out into a boyish grin. She chuckled. “Right go come on Jay I need my beauty sleep.”
“Trust me baby you really don’t.” She blushes and Jason chuckled. "See you tomorrow.”
“Bye handsome.” He excused himself past the nurse and towards the team.
"Do you know how long she's gonna be in here for?" Garfield asked Jason shook his head. Garfield’s demeanour slumped.
“I hope it’s not long though I’ve got to take her on a date.” Jason said everyone stared at him wide eyed. Garfield lightly punched his shoulder and Dick ruffled his hair.
"We'll visit her everyday though." Rachel said
"For sure." Jason said
"Let's get going." Kori suggested the team hummed in agreement before walking out of the hospital where Y/n wouldn’t be in for much longer.
Strands
Augusnippets Day 2: platonic bathing | hair care | makeup
Word count: 500
Trigger warnings: none
——————(0)——————
"Are you done yet?"
A nearly-inaudible, long sigh came from behind Brier, before Karmic said, “Say that again, and I’ll cut your throat instead of cutting your hair.”
“Young lady, do not make me turn this car around!” Brier said, dropping her voice low, then giggled. “That’s what you sound like right now.”
“Young lady, do not make me stab your carotid with these scissors,” Karmic immediately deadpanned back. Said scissors made a snick-snick noise, slicing through more of Brier’s hair.
“Ha, see—? Oh no, shh, shh, I’m sorry, Sor, sorry, sorry, rest your tired eyes,” Brier sang, fingers running over Sor’s fur. The touch of magic in her words made the cat settle down again, his eyes sliding closed. Brier hummed a few aimless notes, slowly stroking down the length of Sor’s spine, before she reached out from under her protective cape for the half-made straw sandal she’d abandoned to placate Sor.
“You—” A yawn interrupted Karmic’s sentence—it was silent, but Brier could hear his jaw creak, could picture the one eye Karmic always kept open when he yawned. “You’ve done that … three times now? You’re putting me to sleep, dirthead. You’ll end up lopsided and laughed at because you enforced naptime on your hairstylist.”
“I can’t help it!” Brier whispered, starting to weave a careful distance from where Sor was dozing across her lap. “Don’t move while a cat is on your lap or you’re the worst human in the world, that’s the rule. You know that, that’s why you put him there to begin with.”
“It’s for your own good,” Karmic said, unrepentant. “Every time I thought about your sheer amount of split ends, I fantasized about freezing you into a giant block of ice except for your head and giving you a haircut. You got off easy.”
“I guess I did,” Brier sighed. “Honestly, who can blame me? He’s trapped me, but he’s the cutest trap in the world.”
“Correct answer.” The tug of the clips in her hair released, and a comb glided over her scalp without meeting any resistance. “Okay, now I’m done.”
“Yaaay!” Brier quietly cheered, now having the freedom to turn her head. Karmic was leaning back a little to inspect his work—his face was as severe as ever, but there was a softness to the corners of his eyes, and a jaunty, almost triumphant trill had risen out of the quiet, mellow tune his emotions had become.
“Thank you!” she continued. She tilted her head, and said, “Is there something you want help with for your hair?”
A beat, as Karmic went still, both in body and emotions. Then he huffed, the meditative tune coming back, and as he turned in the direction of their broom closet, he said, “I think Sor’s got you occupied at the moment.”
As he walked away, Brier smiled, eyes catching on the tufts of hair on the floor. After all, she’d learned how to listen for the ‘later’ implied, how he’d never said no.
Voltaic Refeeding
Augusnippets day 3: thunderstorm | blizzard | heat wave
Word count: 499
Trigger warnings: mentions of eating, electric shock, burns, blood, fear of death
——————(0)——————
Camlanns were born attuned to the elements. Magic wove them into being just as much as DNA, and they needed magic just as much as they needed food or air. This was easy, for some—if you were attuned to earth, wind, plants, water, physics, all you needed was to touch it to feed on the ambient magic, and you were set.
For Ruika, attuned to electricity, that was harder. Tal had told him that there were people thinking about using electricity to power lights and heat in a house, but for now, fire magic was used to bring fire, light magic to produce light. Outside of combat and nastier warding styles, no one had really incorporated electricity into their life, and Ruika did not want to get in the practice of getting beaten up by wards or people just to try and keep himself healthy.
So, when summer rolled around, the air turning souplike and clouds becoming dark with the promise of rain, Tal whipped out all his governmental real-time storm maps, Piri rented a mobile, and the three of them went storm-chasing.
Lightning was an excellent source of electricity for Ruika. Electricity naturally bent towards him, knowing he was a home for it, which was great when he was fighting lightning mages and even better when he wanted to get struck multiple times in one storm. The rest of the time, Piri and Tal set up warded spheres to catch lightning, to feed him for the rest of the year when storms were rarer. It really was the best way to keep his magic stores from withering and him dying of starvation!
It also, Ruika reflected, hand raised to the roiling sky and shaking, just could be really very dangerous.
His ears had ceased to hear anything but a high-pitched, screaming whine. He was somewhere between feeling nothing but tingling numbness and like he was about to explode, the telltale sign that he’d eaten a little too well, and like a starving person gorging themself, that was going to have some immediate, horrible consequences. Distantly, he knew he was burned all over to the point of burst, bleeding blisters, even if he couldn’t feel the blood trickling over his skin.
Somehow his arrhythmic, rabbit-quick heart found it in itself to leap in fear when his smearing vision managed to catch a flicker of light in the billowing darkness above. The three strikes in quick succession before had destroyed his ability to withstand any more voltage. If he got struck again—
The world went white.
He registered his vision jarring—had his knees given out? He couldn’t care, around the agonizing numbness, around the sight of a copper, spiky rod above him, now sizzling with the heat of catching lightning before he could. He saw a blur of red—candy-red, Piri-red. Oh, she’d put the lightning rod there.
And then any coherent thought was lost to the blinding torture of a brick-red, Tal-red blur picking him up and sweeping him away.
Moth and Taxidermist
Augusnippets day 4: amputation | degloving | vivisection
Word count: 497
Trigger warnings: violence, injury (exposed bone, collapsed lung), blood, implied/referenced vivisection
——————(0)——————
Karmic fights, he swears. The moment he’s certain that the hostages have been freed, those viscera-stinking shadows slinking back to—to his father, he attacks. This man hasn’t seen him since he was small; he has no idea how quick Karmic is, how sharp his claws are. If he can strike first, fast, then—
At the same time his hand swipes a chunk out of the side of his father’s face and neck, there’s a familiar pain piercing his chest.
His father had demonstrated what his bloodmist could do to someone if they breathed it in, during the ‘negotiations’ that led to Karmic going with him. It felt like Brier had punched him in the solar plexus, any breath-based magic immediately beyond him as he wheezed for breath, except it went on and on until a negligent wave of his father’s hand let him breathe fully again. It had not been a fucking pleasure, to say the least.
It is still not a fucking pleasure.
He stumbles, and that’s his undoing. One moment, he’s looking at the pale mandible his claws exposed; the next, pure black floods his vision as shadows knock him flat on his back, punching whatever air he has left out of him. He tries jackknifing back up, but can’t—the shadows have stayed, keeping him pinned down.
The swears that pour out of his mouth come loud and vehement, courtesy of his father as he heals Karmic’s lungs.
There’s a sigh as his father walks into view. Shadows are vanishing from his cheek, leaving him unblemished. “It’s the brain you have to worry about, little one,” he says.
“Fuck the shit off,” Karmic spits.
“Our brains are our only fatal weakness,” his father continues, ignoring him. “Everything else is restorable, but if we lose the organ that knows how to restore things, that means our death. Make sure to adjust your defensive combat to account for this, yes?”
“Oh, so that means your ears are full of shit, too! Makes sense, since you’re not fucking listening!”
“We’re not worrying about brains today, though,” his father says, still going on. His hand goes up, pointer finger aimed at Karmic, eyes narrowing. “We’re worrying about that crutch in your chest.”
Karmic has enough time to register his father’s finger turning black before it blurs, and there’s a ripping sound. Too late he realizes that his clothes have been sliced open larynx to navel; too late the words ‘crutch in his chest’ click together with why his torso is free of shadows;
too late he knows what his father is about to do to him.
"No," he says.
“Yes,” his father counters, kneeling gracefully. “Your heart is what killed you last time. I was happy to supply my own, but you should’ve learned how to replace it ages ago. We’re fixing that now.”
He smiles. It’s a lovely, loving, terrifying smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
The first guiding cut slides over Karmic’s sternum.
Break Rocks; Breaktime
Augusnippets day 5: drunk caretaking | concussed caretaking | feverish caretaking
Word count: 495
Trigger warnings: implied/referenced vomiting, injury, minor blood, implied/referenced slavery
——————(0)——————
“Wakey wakey, eggs ‘n bakey!” Brier chirped quietly.
With a jolt, Karmic finally came to, eyes snapping open wide and pupils … probably slitted to nothingness, since she couldn’t see them. His thin sleep cocoon raced away in a rush of frost, but his instinctive attack stopped, the consequences of how he’d twitched catching up. He didn’t do anything so loud as groan or curse, but his face said everything about how heavily he regretted waking up.
“Brier,” he said after a strained moment. He was starting to categorize all the bumps and scrapes he had—she saw his fingers flex subtly, then a cascade up his limbs as he made sure all his joints were in working order. She also saw when he got to his twisted ankle, judging from his obvious wince.
“Hi, Karmic!” Brier murmured. “Checked you for internal, spinal injuries, you’re good. No breaks in your ankle, just sprained. No lumps on your head. Your pupils are the same size, too! You’re not gonna vomit or kill the sun, right?”
“No,” Karmic said, rolling his shoulders, then stared sulkily at his turtleneck, which was slightly torn, spattered with blood, and covered in rock dust. His gaze flickered over to Brier for a split second. “Fun fact about your head, though.”
“I think I slammed head-first into the ground,” Brier admitted. Nothing else would make ol’ reliable earth damage her so much. The concussion would go away in two days, sure, but it was impressive that she was concussed at all. “We got off lucky.”
(A sprawled, unmoving form; blood seeping into the river. Yes, they’d been lucky.)
“I’ll say,” Karmic muttered, now staring up the slope they’d tumbled down. “How did we get down here? And how am I …?”
“… Um. The metal mage could conjure magic-canceling shackles,” Brier said. One of her hands curled into a fist. “Another slammed you with a sleep spell instantly after.”
“Fuck,” Karmic spat. His hand aborted a movement towards his deep, obvious eyebags.
“We’ll fix it,” Brier said. Hopefully they could. A weakness to sleep spells because of lack of sleep aside, those eyebags really weren’t healthy. “The teleporter tried grabbing you when you dropped. And I ….”
(A burn, starbursting and charred on the side of a pale neck. Nightmares, hostility; a newfound hatred for small, locked places.)
“That’s a telling skill range,” she said. “So I threw a boulder. And accidentally caused a little rockslide.”
“A little rockslide, she says,” Karmic mocked, fingers ghosting up to make sure the collar of his turtleneck was intact. “Those fucking slavers”—his lips peeled back to reveal fangs—“better be alive.”
“Waiting for the guard to pick’em up!” Brier confirmed, pointing at three lumps of rock, then turned her sway at the motion into a turn, presenting her back. “Up! I’ll be your legs, you’ll be my brain.”
There was a mutinous pause. Then arms circled her neck—she hefted him up, wavered, then started walking.
Philosophical Incident
Augusnippets day 6: car accident | plane crash | shipwreck
Word count: 500
Trigger warnings: minor injury, minor blood
——————(0)——————
“Cass. Cass! Cassie!”
Cassander let his head loll to the side. “What,” he deigned to answer.
“Don’t ‘what’ me, ya goth fuck!” Mag snapped. “Stop contemplating the secrets of the universe and tell me if it’s because yer being you or because yer head got fucking cracked open!”
Ugh, he was so loud. “If now isn’t the time for philosophy,” Cassander posited, “when is?” The road was nice and level, warm from the sun. It was a good day for cloud-watching. In all honesty, laying here and staring up at the blue sounded like a much better deal than having to sit up and contend with any injuries he definitely had.
“When yer magic-forsaken road rash hasn’t maybe sheared off important bits of your fucking circle tattoos! Have I mentioned lately that those’re fucking suicidal? Have I mentioned that I don’t like being, oh, I dunno, stabbed or burned or exploded?”
“If my spell circles were going to explode,” Cassander said, “they would’ve done it already.” They did have a point, though. Hells. If any of his circles were affected, if his clothes hadn’t protected his skin enough … he was going to have to do so many touch-ups, he just knew it.
Alright. Time to get up, aaand there was the pain. Mostly duller pain, though—he was going to have a helluva set of bruises later.
“Any goose egg-type feelings?” Mag asked, squinting at him. “Can’t check your pupils—dizziness, amnesia, anything?”
“Oh, I hate having to reimburse people,” Cassander muttered, eyeing what had once been their car. Well, it was still recognizably a car, if you liked your cars crumpled like an accordion. At least the top was open, and they both knew how to fall when they got thrown forward and out.
“Cassander!”
“No concussion symptoms, just bruises and minor cuts.” What had made it through his clothing hadn’t seemed to touch his tattoos yet, thankfully. “You’re going to be the one paying back the rental. This is on you and your horrific driving. I didn’t think it was possible to hate cars even more than I did before.”
Mag sputtered, before leveling an accusing finger at him. “Take the wheel, then, if ya hate my driving so much!” he said.
“No,” Cassander said, flat and immediate. “I would rather die. I almost did die, actually.” It was either endure Mag’s idea of road safety, or willingly put on a siphoning cuff to provide magic for the engine. He’d like to sleep at night, thanks, instead of scrubbing his wrists raw from the nightmares.
All of Mag’s fight left him, his shoulders sagging. “Right,” they muttered, looking at a vaguely bloody rip in Cassander’s pants.
Cassander instantly made an affronted sound. “Stop looking like a kicked puppy; I know what I signed up for, or else I wouldn’t have gotten in a car with you again.”
“Right,” Mag said again, lips quirking a little; he held out a hand. “Well, let’s figure out how’ta get outta this mess.”
Try, Try Again
Augusnippets day 7: waterboarding | drowning | choking
Word count: 498
Trigger warnings: child abuse, depictions of drowning, symptoms like vomiting(?)
——————(0)——————
Aristaeus only realizes that the hand in his hair has yanked him up when he’s choking on air for long, agonizing seconds. Water in his lungs, water in his stomach—all of it comes spluttering out, dragging pain behind it like yanking hooks along his esophagus. He heaves, and he is wretched—
“I remain convinced that you are not taking this seriously, morseling.”
—and he has failed. Again.
The hand in his hair tightens, just a bit; in response, all his breathing cuts off for a terrifying moment, before in a great rush, water floods out his mouth and nose, splattering into the river. The force of it makes him grasp at the shingle around him in weak, desperate movements, but when he can finally inhale, it comes clean, free of any damp rattle in his lungs, though it rasps in his abused throat. Teacher is merciful, even after his many failures.
“I am,” Aristaeus croaks, “I swear, I am.” His next words are practiced, and resonate with the scorching, acidic mass rooted deep into his chest: “This is within nature, so it is within mine.”
He cuts it off there, as he’s learned. Anything more sounds like begging to Teacher—the divine, even pale, reaching imitations like him, do not beg, as Teacher says.
“And yet,” Teacher says, “the lesson remains unlearned.”
Her hand in his hair pulls him back, back, back, and his breath shudders as the arch of his spine lets him meet Her eyes, pebbles for irises surrounded by mossy sclera. Her face is set in statuesque, forbidding disapproval, as always.
No mouth is needed to speak the tongue of the gods, only a will to be heard, and so Her lips remain sealed as She proclaims, “You will stay under for as long as it takes for you to learn how to breathe.”
The sentence nearly makes his hands fly up (to grasp at her hand and plead? To rip it from his head?); he stills them, and they hover somewhere above his knees. He knows She doesn’t mean what they’ve been doing so far. The notion makes him start trembling.
“Teacher, I am mortal. Prolonged drowning will kill me,” he says. She needs the reminder, occasionally—their existences are so far apart. Maybe ….
“It will not be drowning if you are breathing,” Teacher says, implacable. “I can expel water from your body in the river as easily as out of it. You will learn, splinterling, or you will stay.”
Aristaeus knows it’s coming. It doesn’t make the push forward into the water any less jarring, or the shingle wrapping around him to keep him under any less frightening. Her hand is still in his hair—he is trapped utterly in Her power, and it’s a cold comfort to know he won’t die, no matter how painful.
As he breathes in, tries to convert the water to magic he can sustain himself on, fails again, and starts to seize, he hopes he’ll learn Her lesson quickly.
Another Good Day
Augusnippets day 8: reunion | found family | friends
Word count: 500
Trigger warnings: none
——————(0)——————
“Honey, we’re ho-ome!” Brier trills, and doesn’t dodge the cloth snapped at the back of her head.
“Who are you talking to, there’s no one inside,” Yolotli grumbles, probably rolling their eyes. They start trundling forward; Brier steps aside in a practiced motion so her toes don’t get crushed.
“Maybe I’m talking to the house, Li-li! It’s my baby, I built it with my own two hands!” Brier says, stepping in after Yolotli. Rui, Piri, and Tal trudge quietly in her wake, with Karmic bringing up the rear guard—always so protective, especially of the young lives living under their roof.
“And I designed, wired, and warded it with my own two hands,” Yolotli deadpans, reaching under their chair for the bag there and depositing it on the dinner table as they go past it. “I am this house’s genetic donor just as much as you are.”
“And I furbished and powered this house with my own two hands,” Karmic drawls, gently settling Sor into a cat hammock. “My goodness, Brier, stop hogging all the credit of this designer baby for yourself.”
“Is that how babies work?” Ruika says, apparently still with enough energy to have interest in their conversation, instead of immediately flopping into his bed. Tal, at least, is going that direction—beelining for the shower first, though; good, his body would thank him for it later.
“Nice try, firefly,” Sym says, somehow managing to talk clearly around the bag handles in her mouth. She spits them out once she’d dragged the bag next to Yolotli’s, and continues: “None of these three are going to feel comfortable explaining that to you until you’re at least thirteen, so you’re in for a wait.”
Ruika’s eyes glisten, bottom lip wobbling tragically.
Sym only snorts. “Not even if you make that face, Rui.”
Ruika’s attempt to make his face even sadder is interrupted by Karmic casually ruffling his hair as he passes by. “You can improve your ‘woe is me’ face while you’re doing cooldown stretches,” Karmic says. “Follow along with what Piri’s doing.”
Piri glances up from the pretzel-like contortion she’s pulled her body into, and grins. “It’ll be fun, Ruika!” she chirps. “I don’t bite. Well, I don’t bite friends.”
Ruika stares at her for a long moment, then slowly turns to Karmic and very seriously says, “I think I might die.”
Brier bursts into giggles at that. “You don’t have to follow her completely!” she says, taking out another stack of containers from the picnic basket and setting them in the sink. “Just go as best as you can! You already did cooldowns at the park—this is just to kill time until you get your turn in the shower.”
Ruika pulls a face, but heaves a great sigh and edges around Piri’s toothy smile at his approach, plopping down and eyeing how she’s twisted herself with some trepidation.
Brier turns away, hides her dopey expression as she starts running the water. As the house sings of warmth, she hums along.
Hare and Kit
Augusnippets day 9: hypothermia | overheating | dehydration
Word count: 496
Trigger warnings: implied/referenced death, description of corpses, implied/referenced child death
——————(0)——————
“You,” Archaios says, “are not just shivering from pain, are you.”
The child, predictably, shivers in response.
“Fuck,” Archaios says, and picks up speed. “Look, in my defense, you were getting shredded from the inside-out by curse energy, I had other things on my mind! Like keeping you un-shredded! I forgot that humans are—squishy! Don’t like being cold! Fuck!”
Because he’s reveled in blizzards before, only to come across blanched, stiff corpses, squirreled in little snow-dens that they thought would save them. He’s tried to save ones that were still breathing by feeding on their cold, hoping that drawing it away would help keep them warm. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t.
“I hate doing that on children, you know?” he murmurs into the child’s forehead. “It’s filthy, feeding from the young. And you shouldn’t have to be so close to death, anyways. You should—”
Be with your parents, laughing and loved, free of curse marks, not small and alone. Be warm.
Too many things this child should have instead of some inhuman hermit that came upon them by happenstance; it all crowds Archaios’ throat and clogs there.
His next step echoes, warps; his own wards welcome him as he slows his run into the cave to a purposeful stride. He has pelts stored away, despite his best efforts to foist everything he hunts on humans that actually need it. Humans always bundle themselves up in the cold, surely those will help.
He has two pelts … well, one is a cloak. He wraps that first around the child, then the second, until only the child’s pale face and baby wisps of their white hair show. Then—and this is the hard part—he sits back until only a comforting hand is touching the swaddled child.
“Fenn always told me my skin was icy,” he tells them. “I don’t think holding you will help, no matter how it’ll make me feel better. But ….”
He’s bundled up the child, stopped touching them with his cold hands. Is there anything else? How will he know this is helping? How soon? He’s always known his knowledge on humans is essentially a dark, unknown chasm, but never has it yawned deeper, faced with a child he must save.
“Maybe,” he starts, then looks at the black marks crawling up the child’s cheeks, and stops. Bringing this child to humans, to anyone that knows better, will only get them killed.
Then a realization clicks, followed by his heart dropping.
“Fire,” Archaios says. “You need fire. Except I … I don’t know how to light one.”
He’s never really needed it—he needs cold, not heat. And he’s never committed to saving a cold victim like this child, so he’s never thought of it before.
Wait, no. He has.
He sighs and heaves himself up. “I hope Tiana forgives me,” he mutters. “And you. For using a practice meant to invite ambient magic to light funeral pyres for you.”
He goes to find sticks.
At the Hook (Line, Sinker)
Augusnippets day 10: execution | fake execution | begging for mercy
Word count: 499
Trigger warnings: description of death, implied/referenced panic attack
——————(0)——————
Mag knows his face goes pale when he sees the man waiting for them, the thick, wicked hook in the ceiling. The assistant holding rope in a telling noose.
They absolutely don’t care if this man’s reputation is being used to frighten them into obedience. Either that’s the case, or talking will buy Cassander time to scrounge up a miracle to let them escape, or they’re both fucking dead.
“Please,” he whispers; louder: “Please, no, I don’t, I don’t—! Not like this, fuck, not like this!”
“Not like this?” the man—Marcus? Marius? Martin?—says, an easy smile spreading across his face. “That can be arranged. There are plenty of ways to—”
“What do you want?” Mag interrupts, because they really don’t want to know all the horrible ways maybe-Marcus has found to kill people. He already knows this man would see him hung slowly, death by strangulation instead of a broken neck. “What do you want?! I’ll do anything!”
They want to yank the words back as soon as they leave—it’s too much to give. But maybe-Marius wouldn’t accept anything less, anyways.
“Are you sure?” maybe-Martin says, nearly pouting. “I’ve been wanting to see what a destroying angel will do to someone. It eases up while it’s liquefying your liver—what does the anticipation do to you, feeling better but knowing you’ll die?”
“No! Fuck no! Please, I said I’ll do anything, please!”
“Oh, calm down. I can think of some ways to use a thief as famous as you, if you’re willing to do anything.”
Mag’s heart leaps in relief; his first guess was right. “Yes! Yes, I’ll do whatever—!”
“What about him, though?”
And back down their heart went into dread.
“He’s my partner,” Mag says, not looking at where Cassander was forced to kneel beside him. “He’ll do whatever you want, too.”
Play along, they think, please play along, don’t act out and ruin this, it might be our only chance.
“Of course, yes,” Marcus(?) says. His smile widens, goes sadistic and ugly. “But I want to hear him beg for it.”
Fuck, we’re dead.
Because the keyword with Cassander is proud. He’d fought every step of the way here, to the point that he was more heavily restrained than Mag now. He never apologized or said he was wrong. He’d spit defiance to someone holding a knife to his throat.
A tense pause. Then:
“Please,” Cassander grit out.
Marius(?) raises a brow. “Go on,” he prompts.
“Please,” Cassander says again. Then, picking up speed: “Please, please, please, please, áni, áni, áni—”
He cuts off. The only sound is his frantic breathing.
Mag tries his best to keep from gaping, because what the fuck, while picking over the last word. What was that, another language? Ahni? Ahani?
… No. He’s saying áni. Because that’s Áléen.
“Please what?” fucking Martin(?) is saying.
The answering jumble of syllables is foreign to Mag, but apparently it convinces the motherfucker.
“Well, then,” he says. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”