High-vis Red (667 words) by katajainen Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel & Legolas Greenleaf Characters: Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel, Gimli (mentioned) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Battle of the Hornburg | Battle of Helm's Deep, Angst, Infection management with limited means
Whumptober 2021, prompt no. 9: presumed dead.
So anyway, that bit in Helm's Deep when Gimli goes missing. But with zombies ;p
Boatem is often loud, whether from the customary explosions, or the ambient sounds of the factory sat next to the mountain range.
Pay no mind to how the landscape morphs and shifts with every week, you wouldn’t have expected there to be no impacts from hosting entities of their power and renown, right?
The well of silence by the pit in the centre of town is natural, do not worry. It is merely the signs of the Void spilling out through the break.
But all the same, I would not recommend looking down into it for long, after all, many would say the Void is a gateway to other worlds, and you never know what might be looking back.
The call of thunder echoes from the gargantuan mechanical structures before you, rusted copper and black stone rising upon the spindly limbs of their supports.
Do not mind the way that reality seems to hop and skip, at times, in this area.
There are things that are better left unknown to mortal minds, after all.
You have a bundle of rockets in your hand. You place it down, and pull another bundle from your pocket.
How did they get there? For that matter, how did they even fit there?!
Take a walk down to Horsehead Farms, one of the premiere marketplaces in this world.
Oh, you have no money, or you forgot your wallet? That’s fine, just sign here. And here. And here. You will pay, either way.
There is a castle, on the road by the Big Eyes.
The lights glitter welcomingly, from a distance. A perfect way-rest for the weary traveller.
Fragments of gold and cogs are scattered across the grounds, the stables empty, though you swear you could hear the sound of horses as you entered.
As you explore the depths of the castle, remnants of a great adventure can be found within.
The sound of a ticking clock echoes through its hallways, and down into the hidden sewers.
There are ghosts, lingering here, if you’d care to look. The impression of an explosion, fingerprints of ash, the way in which the courtyard well is crumbling from moss punched into its walls.
Perhaps this place is not as safe as one would hope.
There is a moon, hung in the Big Eyes’ shoreside district.
It glows, ever so softly, with a flickering rust-coloured hue
A clock sits above it, forever counting down to a time it cannot reach.
It whispers, a gentle thing that lulls and calms.
Won’t you sleep? The day grows late, and there are beds aplenty. Sleep.
The whispers sound ever so slightly like clockwork against rustling moss. Or maybe even vines.
Pumpkins and spooky decorations have all found their way onto hats and houses, as garlands hanging from cavern entrances, and glowing lights lining the paths.
They are not the only things that have been brought forth into this world of Hermits.
Did that hat decoration just move? No, it must have been the lighting.
There is a strange white and pale blue building jutting out from that mountain over there.
The villagers nearby whisper about strange noises and stranger folk, coming and going from that place.
They say that a magician, or a madman, lives secluded in those cold white halls.
But didn’t they just say that people come and go from it?
The owner greets you brightly, when you knock upon his door. Come in, he says, I’ve been expecting you!
Was he? Did you have- No, there couldn’t be a mistake. Your arrival here was planned, after all.
Your gaze skitters past the splotches of rainbow quivering against the back wall. You look closer. Are those sheep? You blink, but your attention is drawn instead to the alchemical ingredients flying through the room.
Come along, he says, all polite smiles and warm gazes, you’re just in time for your interview.
Your what? Is what you would ask, but then you blink, once again, and he is thanking you for your time.
It is the late afternoon, and there are carrots being flung up an outside pipe.
You decide not to question it, or anything. Some secrets are better left to those who keep them.
Some say the forests around the swamp and shrooms are magic.
The truth of the matter is, they are.
A combination of different magics, certainly, sprawling farmsteads and majestic towers coming together amongst the forest canopies and hillsides.
The wilderness of these regions sprawls onwards, slowly spreading in its influence.
A statue of a stag stands guard by a tower, majestic, yet silent.
It is not time yet, for it to shake off its wooden coat in favour of a crystalline pelt, for its carved horns to turn from lumber to sharpened ivory.
Pray that it never finds reason to do so.
A Whisper On My Shoulder | Chapter 1 of 41
When he wakes, he’s groggy. There’s rough cloth beneath his cheek and there’s a flare of pain in his shoulder and there’s a pounding headache as he cracks his eyes open.
Then the memories of Whitestone hit, and he bolts upright. The feast. Ripley. The slaughter. Ripley again. The cells, the torture. Cassandra, the grounds, the arrows. The ghost.
Percy's not the only member of his family to survive the Briarwoods' attack. He's just the only one to do so alive.
Read @ AO3
“today, she is not eula lawrence. today, she puts everything she knows behind her, forgets it, if for a moment. today, she dances like it’s the only thing she knows how to do, tuning everything out and losing herself to her movements. today, she is a lone figure by the seaside, a nobody — far away and sublime.”
No but is your fic gonna be turned into a short p*rn movie?!? Bet it isn’t 💅🏻💅🏻💅🏻
goodmorning, i do not feel well
Ectober (Week) Day 1 - Headstone / Boo
*Art for Hearts of the Cursed, where Sam is a Witch (i mostly just say this for context of sam’s whole.. thing goin on, frankly this looks more like a fight than danny pranking sam while they explored the Zone and them being startled, but thats what you get when you can’t draw faces ig)
It didn’t come out how i wanted to, and i’ll probably edit the post later and add a version with better shading and lines (i usually do them last and im so drawn out today haha) but until then, there’s a fic below the read more line!
Look, when you’re on your way back from your ghost godfather’s tower and you see your soulmate/partner/best friend flying through the ghost zone, you have two options.
Say hi, or prank them, and obviously Danny was going to prank them.
Danny grinned, his sharp fangs glinted in the green mood lighting of The Zone. Sam was about to fly past one of the smaller islands, in which possessed a slightly transparent quality (possibly the ghost was destroyed or something.. rip ig).
So, Danny quickly tapped into his invisibility (thankful Sam was still in the process of learning their invisibility detection spell), and flew to the edge of the island. He worked hard to create an ectoplasm-based ‘BOO’ in the air in front of him, and then popped into visibility the moment Sam flew past.
Sam definitely screamed, though we all know they’re going to deny it later, and fell back onto the little cloud their glowing witch shoes summoned. Their big, glowing purple eyes widened and three long, sharp, glowing purple arrows appeared before their hands.
Danny had burst into laughter, the ectoplasmic words melted and fell into the void below, “Damnit, Danny!” Sam squawked, the Arrows poofed into light and eventually faded away completely.
“You should’ve seen your face!” Danny cackled, failing to keep his balance on his toes and falling back onto the island floor.
“You’re gonna pay for that, Fenton!” Sam yelled, and Danny abruptly stopped laughing. A high pitched squeal abandoned his throat as he saw them flying towards him at full speed.
“Jesus fucking christ, Sam!” he laugh/screamed, he lept off the platform and broke into flight to escape their enraged partner.
*** (Sam ended up tackling Danny midair, and tickling him until he threatened to blast her the moment he got a chance to breathe, Tucker was incredibly regretful he didnt join either of them on their trips to the Zone.)
“well, it’s that time of year again,” mat says with an admittedly pretty obvious note of pride in his voice. “october 25th — in other words, alina’s birthday! so if you’re not following her on @lawrising — where she writes me, by the way — @deathwis, @angelgraved, and @faultd, i mean, now would be a pretty good time to start.”
mat takes a second to adjust his posture, moving from leaning primarily on the right foot to the left, all while keeping one hand firmly on his hip, as if he’s giving a lecture in front of a college board instead of singing a friend’s praises on their birthday. but to him, this has exactly the same level of importance. everyone deserves to feel happy on their birthday, whether they’re someone mat doesn’t know well or someone he can’t possibly live without. and alina’s someone that definitely falls into the latter camp, which is all the more reason to make this special.
“i gotta admit, i was pretty surprised to find out i had such a huge following.” the detective’s voice is a little softer, a little more cut open and raw than his previous bravado. “and, ah, no offence to anyone else who writes me, but — it takes a real kinda dedication and talent to write the way alina does. she’s probably watched my season eight times or something crazy like that — but she always comes away with something different, a new thing to talk about! seriously, i don’t think anyone’s ever paid that much attention to me in my life. and — and, well, alina knows this better than anyone, but...” for someone who feels so expendable, having a person look at you for that long makes you feel like you’re going to literally explode. mat tapers off, one hand dragging down his lips as his intense eyes search for a way to say what he means to without sounding, uh, too pathetic. “ — it means a lot, let’s just leave it at that. she does me justice, without glossing over all the things that maybe, maybe don’t make me feel too great, but are important anyway. she’s dedicated! not to mention a great writer, like — 'all these finer details, however, are the problem. personalization actually clings to the bed, despite the bareness of everything else.' and then here — 'the searing emotion licking his heart'. 'the detective connects it to something akin to mourning. yearning?' you can't make this up, this — this is incredible. she could be a poet. no, i’m serious! there’s — this is poetry!”
mat chokes on his own laughter, self-conscious from being so honest for so long. he licks his lips, takes a deliberate step backwards from where he’d started pacing. “i dunno what she sees in a character like me, but — i’m glad. i’m glad she’s here. and all the other characters she writes on her other blogs, they’re lucky too, to have such a great writer — a poet — and such a good friend behind their characterization. she’s got it on lock. she’s great. hope you have a great day, alina. we love ya.”
She did the sensible thing and brandished her pan at him. “Who the fuck are you?”
The boy on her couch stretched an arm behind his head. Blinked at her some more, as if she was the one inconveniencing him. “Mornin’,” he drawled.
JJ accidentally breaks into Kiara's apartment. She is very much not pleased.
[Jiara Week- Day one, meet ugly]
woke up this morning and it was raining so it’s time to be unhinged again
Being able to create elaborate stories and situations but not being able to write them down with the same eloquence they had in my head is my own personal curse. God is so in fear of the creative prowess I posses that he’s made it near impossible for me to ever use it, between this and my complete lack of motivation 😪
Whumptober2021 (Masterlist) (Chapter 4)
Chapter 5 (Day 25 - Flying)
(Gif not mine- Warnings for medical discussions)
“Jarvis, where are we?” Tony says desperately as he feels Natasha go limp in his arms.
“New Haven. I’m plotting a route to the tower.”
Tony sees the path laid out in front of him, and pushes the suit to go faster, taking care of how he’s holding Natasha’s broken body in his arms.
“Sir, you have a broken arm, multiple contusions and some ligament damage in your wrist.” He doesn’t care.
“Scan Natasha,” he commands
“Sir. It is a modified form of Extremis.” He knows the AI can’t be shocked or he’s just imagining it, but there’s a tone to the AI’s voice that he can’t place.
“I know, tell me how she is, monitor her vitals,” he says, frustrated.
“Her temperature is elevated, too high to stay at this temperature. It appears as though she has posperthetic neuralgia, did her skin seem sensitive?
“Her heart is working hard to regulate her breathing. She has broken fingers, a dislocated thumb, and she also has multiple contusions as well. Possibly a concussion. Sir, she needs medical attention.”
“Will the Extremis protocol work, like it did with Pepper?”
“I’m not sure Sir. Agent Romanoff has a different physiology to Miss Potts. Her DNA structure and immune response is… different,”
“Can you run it? Try all possible combinations, with drug combinations as well,”
“Sir, Agent Barton and Miss Potts wants an update, can I put them through?”
“First set up the hospital, find the doctor that did Pepper’s care, so they’re ready as soon as I land,”
“Already done, sir. Patching through Miss Potts and Mr Barton.”
“Tony!? Tony!? Where are you?”
Peppers voice is frantic and he can hear Barton in the background.
“Tony, are you with Natasha?”
He’s frantic, and Tony gets it.
“Barton, I have her,” he assures.
“Are you ok?” He’s not sure how to answer that.
“They caught us, they made me..” he stops, unable to day the words. He opts instead for the here and now, and what they need to know.
“Clint, Natasha will need surgery,” it needs to be now, he thinks but he can’t fly faster.
“What did she do?” It’s an odd question that he chooses to ignore.
“Is there anything I need to know? We’re landing in twenty minutes, ok? Can you meet us at the top of the tower? I have a feeling she’s going to respond better if you're there.”
Clint mutters something that sounds like ‘not likely’ but he agrees.
“Pepper, can you meet the doctors and get them set up?” She sounds on the verge of tears as she agrees.
“Tony, her body will react different, she metabolises things differently. Faster, usually. A bit like Steve. If it’s drugs, it should be out of her system soon, don’t worry,” Clint explains.
There’s so much in that that Tony can’t even begin to unpack it. He decides on the truth, because no matter how quickly Natasha metabolises something, it’s not actually helping with what’s going on in her body.
“It’s not drugs Barton, it’s Extremis,” he admits.
“What?” They both say simultaneously.
Tony can’t stop his head from pounding as he tries to explain.
“It’s trying to change her,” he tries. Just like it did to Pepper, but with Pepper it succeeded. He doesn’t know what it will do to her, what if it half succeeds or half fails. What if..
he’s broken out of his thought by Pepper.
“When did it happen?” She asks, likely thinking of her own experiences.
“Almost three hours ago,” he says as the time flashes on his HUD.
Clint is silent and Tony thinks he’s going through all the options.
“Ok, do you have an antidote?” It’s said harshly, like he expects Tony to have an answer. He does, but it’s not one anyone wants.
“I have the one we used for Pepper,” he answers.
Clint thinks for a minute.
“I think it should be ok, her body will try and fight whatever is invading, I think… whatever dose you have, just double it, ok? One won’t be enough.”
Tony does the calculations in his head, tells Jarvis to get everything ready. The doctor has arrived, and he thanks god for modern transport and quinjets.
“Is she ok?” Pepper asks, quietly.
“She’s…” he doesn’t know how to answer that. Her chest is rising and falling and there’s pain on her face that’s more emotive than he’s ever seen her; even when they were fighting aliens.
“I don’t know,” he decides on.
“Are you ok?” Pepper asks.
“I’m fine,” he says immediately. He’s glad he’s in the suit, he wouldn’t be able to hold onto Natasha if he didn’t have it.
“We can get the quinjet to come and get you?” Clint offers, and Tony knows he’s been caught in his lie.
“No, I’ll be there soon, I can make it, I can do this,” he assures. He did it to Natasha, he can follow through on his promise. He can fix this. He promised and he can.
“Tony, is she conscious?”
He looks down at her as she’s frowning, not conscious but he’s seen her open her eyes and watch him before she’s out of it again.
“She’s in and out,” he tells them.
He’s almost there.
Jarvis corrects the flight path and he lands somewhat awkwardly, trying to shield Natasha from the jolts of the suit.
Clint and Pepper run to him, and it’s like a scene from a medical show as the gurney is pushed towards him.
He tries to get her attention as he lays her down, tries to convey her vitals to the doctors as she opens her eyes to look at him.
“Natasha?” He asks, “Natasha, Clint’s here, we’re going to help you ok?”
He's met with her body pushing up against his hands, folding in on itself before she vomits on herself.
He would be disgusted if he wasn’t so worried.
Clint tries to get her attention but she’s hyperventilating and can’t seem to get a breath in.
“Tash, you gotta breathe,” Clint says frantically, the doctors pushing them both aside as her vitals spike.
Clint watches as they rub on her chest, and she tries to push them away, noticing her ripped up wrists and broken fingers.
“Stop,” he asks, as he hears her cry out when they touch her.
But they don’t.
He knows they’re only doing what they need to, but it’s hard to watch.
First they inject her arm, then they intubate her and finally her body goes still.