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plutopitou · 7 months

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◇ Limitless

gojo satoru x reader

It felt so real.. Gojo Satoru was dead. Or so you thought until you woke up in a cold sweat staring in the eyes ot your one and only.

wc 1.9k

warnings: basically sfw besides death (everyones alive lmao. He’s just a sweetheart in this one.

hope u all enjoyed as i havent had the time to write with passion until a couple days ago!

They said he was the strongest.

The six eyes.

The untouchable.

The one who stood tall over everyone else with unforgiving grace and supremacy.

Your lover..

Was dead at your feet.

His eyes that glittered effortlessly- shinier than an afternoon sun on blue ocean water blew out quicker than a fire with no wood, leaving it lifeless with the rest of his body in the center of his own blood like a seance.

Dead eyes stared up towards heaven, arms sprayed out ready to be taken where the god’s felt he shall rest for good.

You couldn’t hear your own scream of despair over your rapid heartbeat and ringing in your ear that seemed to get higher and higher.

Pitchier and pitchier.

You couldn’t even feel yourself being pulled back by his students as you tried to launch yourself to his still body; to hold his hand one last time even if it wasn’t warm anymore from the fire of his passion.

Why are you just laying there?

Get up, Satoru!

“Satoru!” You called out for him again, a glimmer of hope wishing the anguish in your voice was enough to jumpstart his heart back alive.

Satoru.

“Satoru!” You cry out, feeling wetness drain down your cheeks and swept away as they fell.

The ringing in your ears was still present as you jolt up, taking in your surroundings in a frantic state as cold shivers run up your spine from anxiety and shock.

He’s dead..

The space in front of you was a blur leaving your body in a fight or flight response, hitting whatever was in your sight- a dark silhouette of warmth grasps your shaky wrists together condemning you a danger to yourself.

He’s dead.

Another hand holds the plush of your cheek, wiping away the tears from your hot, damp skin.

The ringing slowly subsides as your name being called repeatedly echos around the room to your ears and your vision becomes clearer.

“(Y/n)..? Hey, look at me..” He calls out for you.

That velvety voice is more coarse than usual as the morning hour slowly rises to shine at you both through the thin black curtains.

Your breath starts to slow, turning into feint, uncoordinated hiccups of air; the cool breeze of the open window wisps by the curtains, lifting to let the moonlight illuminate the figure by your side.

Satoru.

The light of the moon casts over his pale skin and white hair in a sapphire blue sheen, eyes glittering down at you in confusion and worry; lost of its usual unserious nature.

The air hits your sweaty face as you begin to let yourself feel.

His warm hands you thought you’d never feel heat from again.

And the blood running through his veins, continuing to let his heart beat.

His hair messily frames his sharp face as he digests what is happening.

There was no way to describe the fear dragging in his stomach like an achor from waking to the screams of his name wailed out by you at his side.

You don’t answer his questions, instead pulled into his lean chest, basked into the healing sensation of love radiating from his lively body to yours. The thump of his heartbeat to remind you it’s still there,

that he’s still here.

His sweet words muttered quietly to the shell of your ear that it is alright,

“Everything’s okay. I’m here, baby, I’m here.” He whispers running slender fingers through your hair, lulling your worries away. “What’s wrong?” He asks full of soft fret.

Your eyes are clenched in this neck, the mental picture of his morbid body etched inside. “I’m scared to go back to sleep.” You choke out.

It hurt to even say it outloud.

But he didn’t need to hear it to know what you dreamt about.

You now lay down, head to his chest while running your fingers down his now grown out hair that tickles the base of his neck.

Gojo lays you on him, purposefully letting your head rest of the gentle thump of his steady heartbeat, large palm petting down your hair. Your breathing becomes stable, softly huffing breaths as you slowly fall asleep in his comfort.

It pinched his heart knowing dreaming of such things was an internal fear you’ve always had coming to fruition through your consciousness. He lays there wide awake listening to your light snores of sleep. Gojo couldn’t exactly blame you for having nightmares like this. He practically was playing a risky game of chess with the grim reaper every other night.

It wasn’t death that scared Gojo Satoru, the afterlife was the last thing he was scared of.

As a man whose mere existence puts the rest of the world in check, there were many things he could control. But he hated to admit there were some he just couldn’t.

However leaving you alone in a world where he watches cruelty rule over compassion, that is what scared him the most.

Your sweet, angelic self that only deserved to live a life of happiness and self-fulfillment. He was too selfish to leave you by yourself, refusing to ever let it happen.

Even if he was on his last leg, fighting the red devil to crawl through limbo to come back to you, he’d win and succeed to your embrace.

Before he met you, he’d always wondered if death was more kind.

His thoughts are cut off hearing you stir in your sleep, shifting to another position clutched on his body, heart skipping just from how peaceful and enchanting you are.

A world with you without him just simply did not exist in his eyes , and he’d keep it that way.

He’d always win, for you.

So happy to have finished this I kind love it and tried to have a more serious theme in the literature; so I hope I expressed that a bit better 🫶🏻

Really needed some copium if y’all know what I mean :(

Please follow, like and reblog ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ༄

#gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk leaks #jjk oneshot #gojo x reader #geto suguru fic #nanami x reader #pitou.writes #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #pitou.fics

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ponyosmom35 · 9 months

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nightmares

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Synopsis: reader and Simon are in a relationship, and he has a nightmare. He accidentally hurts her. Read part one if you haven't yet for more context!

warnings: choking, angst, self hatred

part one: fight

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733404809671098368/fight?source=share

there will be a third part soon!

"stop!"

Her dreamless sleep is interrupted by the sound of Simons voice. She open her eyes, squinting as they adjust to the darkness. His back was facing her and his body was rigid as sweat clung to his skin. Instantly she recogizes one of his horrible nightmares that plagued him occasionally. It was tough to snap him out of it.

“No no no stop” he mumers

She reaches out, placing a hand on his back, rubbing it gently. Despite the anger and sadness she still felt from their horrible fight, she knew she needed to be there for him. Trying to slowly wake him up from whatever horrors he was experiencing. He continues to mumble in his sleep and she allows tiredly reaches her arm across his body, clinging onto him.

Simon snaps his eyes open, his body in a fight or flight state. He feels an arm around him and instantly grips it and twists it to the side. He flips over pinning the person, his forearm shoved into their neck as his thighs trap theirs to protect himself.

She screams in pain and shock as in a flash she’s laying on her back, staring up at Simon’s blank cold gaze. He was looking right through her. His grip on her neck tightens and she cries out “si”

“Its me baby” she nearly whispers

His eyes glaze over as he realizes what he’d done. He launches himself off of her, falling onto the floor in shock. His eyes were wide as his body shook. She sits up, holding her throbbing wrist against her chest as tears stream down her cheeks.

“Fuck” he breathes out in horror

“I’m okay Si” she reassures, wiping her tears as she stares at him.

“Fuck I- I” his breath falls short again as his gaze finds the marks on her neck beginning to form. “I’m gonna be sick” he says running ot the bathroom.

She quickly gets up and follows him, but he’s too fast and shuts the door behind himself, locking her out. She hears the sound of him throwing up and cringes. She waits for several minutes, and fixes herself up. She ignores the pain in her wrist. She fixes her hair and puts a new shirt on as her thin tank top had been ripped in the struggle. She was attempting to calm herself as she waited. She needed him to know that it wasn’t his fault, that she was okay. She knew that he was beating himself up right now, and wished to show him that he hadn't hurt her.

After several minutes Simon unlocks the door, facing her instantly. Tears instantly fill her eyes as she sees the sweat and tears tracks on his face. His eyes were red and puffy. She moves closer to him, wanting nothing more than to be wrapped into his arms. He moves back, dodging her body. She stares at him, hurt that he would avoid her touch.

“Si it wasn’t your fault” she says gently. She earns no response from him. “You didn’t hurt me. Just come back to bed please” she says reaching to grab his hand.

“No” he says roughly

“Si-”

“I can’t be here right now, I need to go” he responds

“No you can’t leave right now!” she says, her voice shaking. She follows him as he puts on a coat and shoes. “Simon please don’t leave me right now” she begs. Silence.

He walks to the door and she grips his hand, pulling him back, he stares down at her. The pain was so evident on his face. “Do not walk out that door, I need you here with me” she says softly

Simon clenches his jaw and pulls away from her, before rushing out of the door. She collapses to the ground as sobs wrack through her body uncontrollably. She wished nothing more than to go back to bed and act as though nothing happened. But she knew he could never do that.

Simon struggled with his mental health, the horror and truama he experinced haunted him. He fought everyday for himself and their relationship. Emotions were incredibly tough for him, but he wanted to work through it for her, so he could be what she needed. Yet no matter how much progress he’d made, he always fucked it up.

He walks through the empty streets, making his way to the beach. He sits on the shore and stares down at his hands. He could’ve killed her. One move and her neck would be broken. He was supposed to protect her, he promise he always would, but today the only threat in her life was him. He loved her so much, she was his home. She was the reason he was still breathing to this day. She saved simon from himself, just as he’d saved her back in Germany. Knowing that he’d hurt her made him sick. He was disgusted with himself and his actions. He wondered how she would ever forgive him, how could she trust him?

She had been crying all night, she stayed up waiting for him to come back. Promising herself that if he hadn’t shown up by 8 am she would go out and look for him. If he wasn’t back by noon she would call the police.

At ten till she puts on a pair of leggings and a hoodie, brushing her teeth as she prepped to leave. She goes to put on her shoes when the door opens quietly. She whips around staring at him as he enters their home. He instantly spots her and his body deflates.

“Where were you?” she asks angrily

“The beach”

“Do you have any idea how fucking scared I was?” she yells arms crossed as she stares at him. He moves past her sitting on the edge of the couch running his hand through his tousled blonde hair. She sighs, seeing how much he was struggling. He refuses to meet her gaze as she moves closer to him, She places a hand on his thigh, stepping between his legs.

“You can’t blame yourself, this was an accident. You were asleep, I shouldn’t have woken you up” she says softly

“I could’ve killed you” he responds staring her dead in the eyes. “Do you have any idea how easy it would’ve been for me to break your neck? How can I trust myself around you? How can you trust me after I hurt you?”

“There is no one in this world that I trust more than you” she responds “this doesn't change anything. I love you more than you could ever even imagine, you are such a dream to me Simon. Something happened, and now we work through it together, I won’t let you shut me out Si. There is nothing in this world that could change the way I love you, so please don’t give up on me, on us”

Simon drops his head as tears fall down his cheeks once more. He grips onto her smaller body and pulls her into him. Holding her tightly against his built chest. Her arms go around his neck, finding comfort in his scent. “I love you so much, I can never express to you how sorry I am”

“Don’t be sorry Si, just hold me”

ghost master list:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

a/n:

hey y'all, this is my first Simon Riley fic! It's a small chapter from a book I'm working on. Let me know if you want more!!

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ventismacchiato · 1 year

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40 just playing the part — after party !

epilogue

scaramouche x g!n reader

notes: still in the future, tw: fluff, suggestive content, this is just a little smth to wrap the au up neatly

You exchange smiles and polite nods as you make your way past the staff and fellow actors backstage, clutching your award in your hands against your chest. There was residue sweat stuck on your face from the fluorescent lights of the arena and your mouth was dry from all the speeches you did. But you had your mind on one thing, better yet one person. Your fiancé whom you hadn’t seen in a week due to opposing schedules was finally under the same roof as you and the night was nearing its end before he was swept away on yet another flight.

After what feels like a stressful eternity you finally spot a tuft of indigo hair in the distance making its way to sneak into a dressing room to get away from socializing. Typical.

You maneuver your way through, catching the door with your heel and slipping into the dressing room. You look around, it was barren. You narrow your eyes, had you gone insane from not seeing your lover for so long you were hallucinating him?

Just as you were about to turn around to leave disappointedly you felt a pair of arms snake their way around your waist and a firm chest press against your back.

“Hey,” Scara greets, his chin on your shoulder as he plants a kiss on your neck, “Congrats.”

You turn around, quickly wrapping your arms around him and going straight for his lips.

“You too,” you grin, eyeing the trophy identical to yours with his name imprinted on it sitting by the mirror, “I had a running bet you’d cry on stage, you lost me a hundred.”

“I can cry for you in bed later,” he murmurs, his hands caressing your hips as his lips trail your jaw, “I don’t have to leave until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Good,” you say, sliding your hands underneath his dress shirt impatiently.

“My mom was in the crowd today,” he says against your lips, taking the trophy from your hand to set it on the table so he can gently press you against the dressing room door.

“Took her long enough,” you smile before you feel the door behind you push against you in an attempt to open.

You and Scara quickly separate from one another and try to fix yourselves as your manager, Jean, walks in. She eyes Scaramouche’s undone collar and your disheveled hair with a heavy sigh.

“No comment from me,” Jean says, shutting the door behind her, “I’ve received the news.”

“About…the project?” you ask, sharing a look with Scara.

“Yes,” she smiles, waving her phone.

You and Scara had been trying to book a role in your ideal marriage location so you guys could finally tie the knot whilst working. But everytime something comes up to prevent it. Whether it be a last minute location change, you both having to film in different spots, or your friends not being able to fly in. It was torture.

“You guys finally got it,” Jean announces, “The project starts next year. I’ll leave you both to…celebrate in your own ways,” she knowingly says, shaking her head as she slips out of the dressing room.

“It’s finally happening,” you grin the moment she’s gone, squeezing his elbow and yanking him closer.

“Fucking finally,” Scara sighs, letting himself begrudgingly be wrapped in a hug.

“You’re stuck with me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Those better not be your vows!” you chastise.

“What do you want me to say?” he hums, pressing himself against your back to lower his lips to your ear, “You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires.”

“Now you’re just quoting one of your movie lines.”

“I meant it though.”

You bite your lip to fight the smile threatening to show itself on your face, a childlike bundle of glee in your stomach at his words.

“You want me so bad.”

“Shut up.”

“You mispronounced I love you.”

“It goes unsaid, you already know I do.”

୨⎯ THE END ⎯୧

just playing the part !

masterlist — prev

synopsis: you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?

author’s notes: hi! tysm to you all for reading and keeping up w this work, it means a lot to me that sm ppl enjoy smth i wrote on a whim :) and if ur rereading this or are a reader in the future ty to you too! i appreciate all the silent readers and everyone sending me asks/comments (even tho i cudnt reply to them all i loved reading them) i hope to see you all in my notifs in the future but if not i’m glad you gave my writing a chance <3 ily! have a great day/night mwah

taglist: @monochromaticelliot @kaedear @stxrgxzxr @shirmxie @elakari @lacy-lady @linn-a-a @one-offmind @kithewanderingme @quepasoash @leathernourishingshoepolish @mangobee @lxry-chxn @dameofthorns @kunihaver @kythe1a @elysiasbae @hikaru-exe @tokkishouse @raiihoshii @cherrybeomgyu @kunikuzushiit @thenightsflower @lilneps @goodthingimsam @lovelyiez @euhla @beriiov @abvolat @kittycasie @b0bafl0wer @bubblyclouds @atlatcaheart @artssleepy @baelloraa @tartagli-yuh @satowaluverr @hangesextra @scaranaris-lil-niko @caffinatedcoma @wheneverthesunrise @hajimeseyo @itsyourgirlria @hyunrei @redactedhimbo @caliginous-skies @vinskyspuff @miissfortune @criminalinthemaking @scaramouches-girlfriend @scrmgf [1/3]

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brawlstars-dragon-au · 5 months

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Sketch dump time! A whole bunch of requests from the crazy ex-bird app

In Order: Maisie, Pam, Colette, Buster, Chester, Chuster ❤️🧡 (and a teeny Gus), Leon and Sandy (Leondy 💚💜), Bull, El Primo, and Mandy!

Extra notes about each sketch:

Maisie:

Her breath attack is a condensed foam material, similar to that of a fire extinguisher. Using a gas similar to a pressurized CO² (based on gas-based fire extinguishers!), she shoots it out at high speeds. These hits can potentially cause frostbite and even severe damage to the body if left unattended. She's quite powerful in this AU due to this ability 👀👀 being able to put out the fires and overpower another dragon's breath? Now THAT'S some queen moves right there! She can also simply spray out the foam substance at short range without that pressurized gas. This helps with more close range fire fighting work.

Her right wing and front leg were undeveloped, a disability she'd had since she hatched. However! With the help of mechanics, she uses these prosthetics to help her fly. Still gotta test out how to draw it to make sense, as well as sort out how it stays in place. I've been using inspiration from Toothless (HTTYD) and his tail that Hiccup made.

Pam:

Pam is a bulkier dragon, very much on the larger side of all of them. I'm at odds with myself to figure out whether ot not she'll have wings 🤔 so I had two copies there! Perhaps her wings may be a bit smaller if I do give her them.

Pam spits out molten magma that's stored up inside her as an attack. However, it can also be chunks of scrap metal that she stores up. Otherwise, it's just magma.

Though I didn't draw this, I want Pam to be very resilient to fire in general, as her species/family of dragon use their ability to spew this magma (technically Lava after ut leaves her body? I'll do more research on this...) in order to craft and shape metal. While other dragons need to spend some time to build up a fire hot enough, the Junker family line is able to do this much more easily. (Amber is a close second, though)

Her skin has the ability to crack and seep up lava out of it, potentially coating her body in this to give herself a temporary lava shield, something extremely hard to break through. (In the future, little Jessie may also be able to do this... however, Pam doesn't think she's ready at the moment and avoids the topic or any ideas of teaching her how.)

Colette:

Colette flies in a sort of funny way, twirling around and flapping her wings to maintain somewhat of a chaotic flight pattern. Think of a snake slithering through the sky, but with large wings and the grace of... a teenage dragon (not much, but it does work).

When she gets better at flying...pray and hope she isn't able to catch up to her favourite brawlers cause she isn't ever gonna let go of them 💀 It makes for a great attack, actually! Charging at enemies and coiling around them like a snake to prevent movement, like a big hug ❤️ she just loves everyone SO much 😍

Buster:

Finally kinda set on a design for this funky guy! He's a larger dragon (smaller than El Primo or Frank, but still definitely up there in size)

His wings never quite grew fully, so he wouldn't be able to fly 😔 however, that'll never stop him and his dreams of being a cool movie star 🧡🧡

Buster, at the heart of it, is an unstoppable force when he sets his mind to something. He'll charge in with the same ferocity as his favouite protagonists, rivalling the audacity and hard-headed nature of even Bull! All while doing so for his friends 💪 we love Buster in this AU frfr

Chester:

Chester always has theatrics when he flies. Flips, spins, and fun aerodynamic movements up in the sky! He's gotta compensate for his lack of speed compared to other wyverns after all, but he thinks he's pretty great 😎

Loved drawing this kinda unique pose tbh! That's what I loved with these drawings, I got to experiment without really thinking too much for em with how polished and clean that look. It was very fun! 🔥

Chuster ft. Gus❤️🧡:

We love some goofy gays here 🥹❤️🧡 I just wanted to let em have a little nuzzle + smooch! Dragons don't necessarily kiss, but little side boops like this are the equivalent of a cheek kiss.

Also, a little Gus on the side 🥹🥹 I love this sort of found family dynamic that have! Buster being the cool dad vibe/big bro to Gus, and then Buster being in a relationship with Chester so that he's also a cool dad too 😎 Gus loved these two guys from the very start, they're funny 🤭 never a boring day for these silly lads.

Leondy 💚💜:

My beloveds 🤲 I really do cherish the ship, as well as strong friendship Sandy and Leon have. (Btw in my HCs, Leon and Sandy are 13 & 14 respectively, just to clear that up!)

Sandy, I've mentioned a few times, is very inspired by Capybaras, so Leon finding one is just perfect 🤭 silly little deadpan face lads.

Bull:

BULLDOZERRRR- What a lad! Bull is inspired by- uh, Bulls! Great creatures, large bodies and thick necks to support those headstrong charges 🐂 I love making his posture all confident, strong steps to say, "Yeah. You TRY and stand up to me. I DARE you." Don't wanna mess with him on most days 🏃‍♀️💨💨

El Primo:

Still figuring out a full-body for El Primo, bit he's roughly the same size as Bull! (Maybe a bit bigger)

El Primo has got really small wings, similar to his El Dragón skin. Even his scales and horns are inspired by that mostly! Love when characters have preexisting dragon themed skins 🤭 makes it a lot easier to make ideas!

His "mask" is actually just body paint. He has similar paint on his body, really showing off the vibrant colours and persona he puts on for the crowds.

He WILL beat up his enemies into a pulp in matches. Thank goodness there's the gem powered regeneration and the respawn system in place 😭 I plan to give him a very strong body and tail, enough to support him when he needs to go on his hind legs and overpower his opponents. Buster is designed in a similar way as well!

Mandy:

Last but not least, the Queen of Candy herself. Not even the Dragon AU let's her escape fast food work 😔😔

Her super attack is purely a magical sugar-based rainbow blast, as shown in the sketch. Also, I'm now realizing that I forgot her red spots oml- No wonder she looks so empty 💀 uhh sorry about that, lads 😭 I'll redraw her one day to show off that glowing effect of her spots 🥹🥹

And that's all! Thank you for reading if you made it this far! Hopefully I can make more of these sketch dumps 🤭✨️ maybe take reqs from here too! We shall see. Take care y'all!

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cipher-the-sidhe · 9 months

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Based on @pure-plum’s prompt: First gifts between Sun, Moon, and the diver.

(I also want to do that other prompt, but haven’t gotten to it 👀)

What the Tide Keeps AU, Moon-centric

word count: 1,984

You have a shelf in your apartment dedicated to the growing collection of gifts Sun has given you. A few tiny, beautiful shells he’d managed to save when they washed into his enclosure with the tide. The long, pristine flight feathers of a seagull that had gotten a little too close to the surface of the water. Then, once he’d been able to get out into open water they’d evolved. Bits of sun-bleached coral, sparking sea glass, and even a single, gleaming pearl that he’d presented to you with a look of deepest adoration.

They all sit neatly arranged, along with an over-exposed polaroid selfie you’d taken with the golden mer. It makes you smile every time you see it.

Another shelf sits blank on the other side of your bed, save for a blurry photo of your other charge taken from above, swimming through a patch of fading sunlight. Moon hasn’t seemed interested in gift-giving the way Sun is, but you feel like it’d be favoritism not to have a place for him here, the way you do his counterpart.

That’s not to say there hasn’t been progress. Moon has come a long way from the snarling, snapping creature that you’d first met. He seems to trust you now, at least. Well, for the most part. He still has a tendancy to shy away from your touch, outside of medical care, which he holds himself ridigly still for in a way that makes your heart clench in mourning for the abuse he and Sun have had ot endure.

He doens’t seem to have a probem touching you, on the other hand. Quite the opposite. Which is why you’re currently pinned under the heavy length of a rough, shark-like tail drapped over your lap, with a blue-black and silver arm wrapped around your middle, trapping your arms down at your sides. Moon has your back pressed snug against his chest and his chin resting against the top of your head, a low, constant sound somewhere between a purr and a growl vibrating his chest. You strain your neck trying to catch a glimpse at his expression. His ruby eyes are narrowed into thin, sleepy slits but you can see that his pupils are angled away from you. Well, until he senses you staring at him. Then, he glares at you with a grumble and his maw opens in a wide yawn, showing off his dual rows of razor-sharp shark teeth. He presses his chin into your hair, forcing you to look down and away from his face. You give in with a good humored huff. Best not to push your luck with him.

It’s an hour past sunrise, long past his usual bedtime. Sun has made himself comfortable on his usual flat rock near the shore of the cove, warming himself in the first golden rays of morning. You fight the urge to stroke Moon’s tail where it rests over your lap (making your legs fall asleep more every minute, but you allow it), knowing that, unlike Sun’s smoothe scales, Moon’s rough skin would cut up your hands like sandpaper. Instead, you lean your head back against him and hum softly.

“ You’re up pretty late, Moonshine. Something on your mind?”

He gives no indication that he heard you. That’s okay. You know to be patient with him.

It’s another several minutes before he responds at all, and even then it’s not with words. He shifts with arm holding you up to your shoulder, flopping backwards and taking you down with him, rolling onto his side in the sand and curling around you with a deep sigh that he muffles in your hair. His other hand in pressed in a fist against the sand, stretched out in front of the two of you.

You chuckle and pat the arm holding you in a steel trap against the midnight mer.

“Moon, honey, as cozy as this is you really shouldn’t fall asleep out of the water like this. We don’t want you getting any more sunburns.”

You keep your voice playful, but there’s an underlying concern you don’t fully manage to mask. It’s hard not to think about the weeks of painful treatment he and Sun had had to endure for the blistering sunburns they’d suffered. Moon’s had been worse by far, being a creature not meant for hours of prolonged sun exposure like his counterpart. There are still scars healing on his shoulders and back, months later.

Moon grumbles and coils closer over you, his tail fin slapping the water where it rests in an agitation you don’t understand the cause for.

“Hush,” he rasps into your hair, claws plucking thoughtlessly at the collar of your shirt in a familiar, resltess fidget.

Your brow furrows. Something is clearly bothering him, but what? You’d thought the night had gone really well, actually. From the time you’d shown up at midnight to now Moon had seemed to be in a remarkably good mood, relaxed and playful (meaning you’d gotten yanked into the water more than a couple of times, but hearing his hissing laughter had been well worth it). It wasn’t until shortly before sunrise, when he’d usually be curling up in a shaded part of the cove over a bed of soft sea grass, that he’d started acting agitated. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes, even though he became especially clingy. And while his verbal responses were usually pretty short and clipped, certianly less verbose than Sun, even that had been reduced to only one or two word replies, when he deigned to reply with words at all. He didn’t seem to be mad at you, but his sudden withdrawl is making you nervous none the less. Had you done something wrong?

You debate with yourself which is better: to relent and indulge whatever mood this is for a while longer, or to gently encourage him to talk. You don’t want to push him too much, but if you don’t nudge him now and then you don’t know if he’ll progress.

You decide to push, just a little.

You stretch your hand out towards the fist he has extended from you two and press your fingertips featherlight against the underside of his wrist in gentle encouragement.

“Moon?”

In a blink, his hand captures yours, one finger and his thumb pressing the back of your hand into the sand while the other two fingers stay curled closed. You feel the sharp edge of soemthing in his hand pressing into your palm, just barely, but you can’t focus on it for long because Moon cranes his head down and nips at your ear, sharp teeth barely scraping your skin but the clipped snap of his teeth right by your ear making you yelp anyways.

“M-Moon!”

His gravelly chuckle cast moist, salt-scented breath over your ear and blood rushes to your cheeks in a furious burn. You grumble, indignant and embarassed but secretly relieved to hear his laughter.

“That was entirely unncessary.”

“Pushy. Nosy.” His voice is a teasing purr nuzzled against the side of your head, despite his words, and he unfurls the rest of his fingers to lace his with yours, his much larger webbed hand dwarfing yours and completely obscuring the small object he presses into your palm as he drags your joined hands through the sand closer to you both.

You bite your tongue to keep from sputtering at the onslaught of unexpected affection, but you can feel your face heating more. You squeeze his hand, feeling the edges of the thing in your palm. It’s sharp, and feels triangular.

“Only a little. I was woried about you, you giant fishstick,” you huff, but the smile is audible in your voice.

Moon’s answering laugh is a raspy wheeze and you yelp, flailing a bit, as he rolls over so he’s on his back again and you’re laying right on top of him, held fast by his unrelenting grip over your waist. He grins up at you with a bear-trap maw and mischief in his sleepy crimson eyes.

You rest your chin on his chest and squint at him in suspicion.

“Whatcha got here,” you ask, giving the hand he still has entwined with his own a little shake.

His smile strains a bit at the edges, but he presses the mystery object into your palm and slide his hand away from your’s, looping it around your waist to join his other arm. His eyes soften looking at you, pupils fading until they’re almost indistinguishable from the brighter red of the rest of his eye.

“For you,” he says, blinking slowly and a little out of synch. You feel the corner of your mouth twitch into a smile at how cute his sleepy expression is before you register what he actually said.

You wrap your fingers around the little object and pull it close to inspect it. “For me?”

In your palm is a sharp, pearly shark tooth, curved and perfect and familiar. You glance back up at Moon and he flashes you a grin full of two rows of the very same kind of teeth. You mouth pops open in a little ‘o’ of surprise, lookign back and forth between the tooth in your hand and his face.

“A gift,” he expalins, and the claws on your back fidget, betraying his quiet anxiety.

You run your thumb over the smoothe, shiny surface of the tooth, admiring it. “This is one of your’s?”

Claws gently tap against your spine, and he nods, watching your reaction. You don’t need to play it up at all. You beam up at him in pure, honest delight, clasping the tooth close to your chest.

“It’s beautiful! Thank you, Moonshine.”

He only grumbles, looking away from you, but you see the way the white frills that frame his face perk up and shiver in delight, and you can hear the water stirr at the twitch of his tail fin.

Without warning, Moon shifts his grip on you and slide you off of him and into the sand, flipping so that he’s looming over you, the nightcap-like appendage on the back of his head draping over his shoulder and swaying next to your cheek with a faint glow. He grins down at you and chuckles at your surprised expression before reaching a clawed finger up and bopping you on the tip of the nose with it.

“It’s time to sleep,” he hums, tilting his head to-and-fro so that the bulb on his appendage taps you on the cheek with each movement. You playfully bat it away and he grins.

“Nighty night, Moon.” You smile up at him, clutching his gift close to your chest.

His expression upturns and he taps his forehead against your’s (a first, and it makes your mind blue screen for a solid minute) before leaning away and pulling himself back into the water. He lashes his tail fin as he turns to go, spraying you with a splash of salt water. You sptter and toss a handful of sand after him, but you can’t stiffle your laughter. The tooth feels warm in your hand.

That night when you’re crawling into bed you glance over at the shelves you have set aside for your mers. Sun’s little treasure trove of carefully, lovingly selected gifts almost crowd out his shelf, and you heart swells with warmth and appreciation as you realize you may need to put up another shelf for his gifts. On the other side is Moon’s shelf, and sitting right in the center, right in front of the photo of him, is one of his own teeth. He’s never been much for gift-giving, for finding just the right trinkets to show his affection. But this was something of his, only his, and he gave it to you.

You fall asleep with the stupidest smile on your face.

#what the tide keeps au #what the tide keeps #mer!moon #mermaid!moon #mer!sun #mermaid!sun #moon x reader #just shameless fluff while I work on the main fic #fnaf dca #dca fandom

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underforeversgrace · 1 year

Text

same memory (different perspective)

title: same memory (different perspective)

Words: 3843

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence/Dissection

Summary: It’s just chores, just him cleaning the lab. It’s just a normal day and he’s definitely fine. His fight or flight instinct definitely isn’t screaming at every single atom in himself to run.

Prompts: At end of story

AO3

Danny was fine. He was absolutely fine, thank you very much. His jeans definitely weren’t getting coated with sweat, both from his constantly wiping his damp hands against them or the uncomfortable heat in his legs, despite the chill he felt everywhere else. His chest definitely didn’t feel tight, like his lungs and heart were shoved into a mouse trap. He was absolutely fine.

He bit at his lip, focusing on the breathing techniques Jazz had taught him. It was supposed to help, she’d repeatedly assured him. But he didn’t understand how breathing was supposed to help, when his chest was too small for lungs to expand, when his heart kept forgetting how to beat, when his skin felt like a costume he was trapped in. He didn’t need to breathe, didn’t need his heart to pump. But that didn’t make the pain any easier.

But he was fine! He. Was. Fine.

Several more breaths passed - in through the nose, out through the mouth - before he was able to push open the door separating the kitchen from the lab’s stairs. Danny forced his feet to carry him forward, though his body felt far heavier than it usually did.

He was acutely aware, for the first time, of the floor’s transition between the two areas. The bright, warm linoleum of the kitchen suddenly giving way to cold, hard silver tile. Hm, the floor was like him. His human half bright and warm, his ghost half cold and hard. Polar opposites yet existing beside each other, an immediate change from one to the other. Oh, yeah, he was definitely fine. These were definitely normal thoughts to have, definitely not just him trying to find any and every excuse to delay his descent.

Allowing himself another moment and more deep breathing, Danny finally continued his trudge down the stairs, a protective hand on his cramping stomach. He didn’t understand how that could even hurt now. The cold bit at his nose. It had been so long since he felt the cold, since… before. He’d forgotten how irritating it could be. He longed for warmth to come back.

Danny’s feet echoed in the space as he stepped off the bottom step, the stench of spilt ectoplasm assaulting him.

Chores. He just needed to do his chores. He had been putting this off for a month and his parents were getting upset. He desperately didn’t want them to be upset with him. He told himself that it was just because he didn’t want them to keep a closer eye on him or take away his bedroom door or whatever, something mild that could risk his secret. He wasn’t afraid of them. He wasn’t.

His eyes immediately pulled to the far side of the room, opposite the portal. Trash needed to be picked up. Things needed to be cleaned and put away. Weapons need to be reloaded. His mind swapped to autopilot. He forgot how to feel anything - feel the cold stabbing his skin, feel the coils in stomach, feel the odd stutters in his chest. His mind fell into a willful fog. Trash found its way into a biohazard bin - it was all covered in ectoplasm anyway. How old is some of this ectoplasm?

The thought managed to penetrate his carefully crafted oblivion and he flinched. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. Look at the pizza boxes, those are safe. Ha, there’s even ectoplasm on them! It’s a miracle Jack hadn’t been contaminated, hadn’t ever questioned how Jack managed to avoid contamination entirely yet Danny was so ecto-contaminated he set off all the Fenton weapons. Yeah. As far as they knew, Danny just had some small ecto contamination. What else could it be? It wasn’t like their son was a ghost!

…Maybe this train of thought wasn’t helping, either. Get trash. Place in bin. Get trash. Place in bin. Nothing else. No other thoughts. Nothing else existed. Just perfectly normal trash going in the perfectly normal biohazard bin.

Time passed oddly in this state. Was time even real? Had Clockwork destroyed time?

Why hadn’t Clockwork stopped time?

Again, an intrusive thought, one he had no answer to. Not helpful. Not helpful!

He glanced around the half of the room he was in, realizing all trash had been removed.

Wordlessly, soundlessly, Danny went to the weapons on Jack’s workbench. For spending so long as a ghost, Danny had never felt as wraith-like as he did at this moment, so much like a shadow of himself.

Still on automatic, Danny began picking up guns. He wiped them off of the ectoplasm splatters around the ends of the barrels. Emptied the spent cartridges into his palm. Pulled new ones from the storage beside him, loading the new energy sources of swirling green back in, cocking the gun so it was ready to fire. Maybe he shouldn’t do that. Maybe he shouldn’t make it easier for them to finish killing him. But he couldn’t leave them helpless. It may be another ghost they ran into. Their weapons had to be ready.

With each gun - ranging in size from a miniature pistol to the comically large bazooka - Danny made sure he didn’t think. Clean. Unload. Load. Prep. There was no worries about safeties on any of these. Ectoguns didn’t hurt humans and all ghosts were evil. Only one of the weapons did he ignore. A new one. It was coated in an ecto repellant. He couldn’t touch it even if he wanted. He didn’t even want to look at it, much less touch it. He’d already touched it once. Or, well, it had touched him? Regardless of semantics, he still had the fork shaped scars over his core to show for it.

Danny hung the weapons on their designated hooks on the wall. Maddie had at least been trying to get the place more organized. She was, after all, certain that Phantom had stolen something when he escaped. She had to figure out what was stolen.

The young ghost child wondered when, or even if, she would realize nothing was stolen. Phantom had taken nothing.

He’d left far more behind.

Once the weapons and trash were cleared, there wasn’t much left to do on this side of the lab. A quick wipe down of the desk, some splotches of ectoplasm to mop up off the floors and scrub off the walls.

All too soon, he was done with this half of the room. But it had been an ordeal more taxing than Pariah Dark had been. And this was the easy half of the room. He’d barely managed to keep his mind buried far enough in his body to finish. How was he going to do the other side?

But he had to. He was strong. He could do this.

Still, he delayed. He studied his hands, suddenly the most fascinating things he’d ever seen in his life. Completely, utterly human.

Well. If he ignored the thin pink lines that scarred his wrists, wrapping around both.

Breathe. Take a breath. Danny turned his body, studying the part of the lab immediately to the portal’s right.

The acidic bite of ectoplasm only got worse as he moved closer to the portal, though he kept the left side out of his line of sight.

There wasn’t much to do on this side and Danny wasn’t too sure how he felt about that. On one hand, elation that the less work he had to do, the sooner he’d been done. On the other, though, the fear and dread of knowing he was also sooner going to have to face what was behind him. And that terrified him. But for now, there was Maddie’s desk to tend to - much cleaner than Jack’s - and a storage closet beside it. Very little ectoplasm splattered around on this side, or so he thought until he moved a box that he realized was open, scalpels stained green falling to the floor. Grabbing those took more willpower than he thought he’d had, but he managed to at least drop them in the nearby lab sink before doing his best to purge the memory of that sight from his mind, turning back to the easy tasks.

Danny threw trash away and wiped up the occasional spill before focusing on the storage closet. Those were his least favorite things to clean, even on a good day. The amount of sandwiches Jack had forgotten in there long enough to mold was frankly concerning. But at least closets were normally safe. They tended to just have papers and the aforementioned forgotten food. Danny thought nothing of it as he pulled open the double doors, his half-present mind just thinking about all the paper he was about to see.

As soon as the doors came open, though, his useless breath left his useless body as he clutched at his upper chest, wide eyed and desperately trying not to vomit food he didn’t have.

Jars had replaced the paper he’d suspected, no sign of rotting food anywhere. Just the ethereal glow of glass jars filled to the brim with ectoplasm, slightly darker green things floating within.

Danny whipped around, desperate to get away from the sight, scrambling forward. In his desperation, he slipped, but caught himself on the edge of something cold and smooth, though it was as slick as the floor beneath him.

His entire body trembled as he fought to get into an autopilot deep enough that he wouldn’t see, wouldn’t feel, wouldn’t think, but terror pierced through. Fight or flight response triggered, no time to be mindless, yet his body wouldn’t move to allow flight (literally or figuratively) and there was nothing to fight here. He was a deer caught in headlights, unable to avoid the car barreling at him despite having time to do so.

He didn’t know why he was surprised. He’d know what they’d done a month ago. Maybe he’d simply expected them to clean up the ectoplasm within the past month, rather than letting it congeal into the slippery, sticky slop that surrounded and coated the table and ground. Maybe he’d expected his parents to not ask their fifteen year old son to clean up a supposedly biohazardous material or to warn him there were ghost organs, bottled like pickles in the storage closet.

That was foolish of him, though. He knew his parents. For the past month, they’d been so obsessed with finding Phantom, so sure that ghost was plotting his revenge. They hadn’t even noticed their son missing for two weeks. Whether they had assumed he was spending time with friends since it was summer vacation or they genuinely had not noticed Danny was gone, he didn’t know. But he knew them. He heard them talk about all their plans to get Phantom back on that table whenever he dared show his face again.

The metal table that was currently the only thing keeping Danny from collapsing. Of course, it was the metal table that kept him standing when a month ago it had held him down mercilessly. Everything, it always came back to this metal table. Haunted him, tortured him with nightmares of the table even as he tried desperately to simply sleep. This table refused to leave his mind, whether asleep or awake, human or ghost.

A feeling of nausea settled deep into him as he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to smooth and calm his ragged, terrified breathing. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. Surely, his parents would understand. He wasn’t used to working with ectoplasm. Ectoplasm was a mysterious, dangerous subject to him. Of course he wouldn’t be equipped to clean it, as far as his parents knew. All he had to do was get out of this lab.

“Danny?” A feminine voice behind him called, soft footsteps coming down the steps.

Phantom pain ripped down his entire body at her voice. He couldn’t call her mother anymore. Couldn’t see her as anything more than a blue predator with eyes like a bug. Her footsteps continued to draw closer. “Oh, drat. I meant to tell you to leave this part of the lab alone! Your father is supposed to be cleaning it this evening. Are you alright?”

Breathe. Breathe. BREATHE.

Danny shakily pulled his hands off the table, turning and facing Maddie. He did not like her behind him. She was a carnivorous creature that he couldn’t let his vulnerable spots. “Fine. Smells.” Talking was difficult and the words sounded like gravel.

Maddie nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is more ectoplasm than you’re used to, hm? Can be quite pungent. You can go ahead and head upstairs, Jack’ll finish this tonight.”

Moving slowly enough to not slip on the congealed green goop under his feet, he moved towards the exit, those stairs a beautiful light at the end of a dark tunnel.

He was almost free, again, when Maddie pulled something up on her computer. Normally, he’d have ignored it, except for the word flashing across the top of the screen.

Large, bold, and red flashed the word: HUMAN.

“What’re you working on?” Danny asked cautiously.

“Oh, it’s the most fascinating thing!” Maddie said, excitement lighting up her eyes. Danny was idly relieved that she’d kept the googles on a month ago. He had no doubt she’d had the same sparkle in her eyes then as she did now, a thought that did nothing to settle the anxiety shooting within him. “Remember how we caught Phantom?”

A rough nod, a deep seated uncomfort strangling him.

“Turns out, he’s half human!”

“What?”

“It’s true! The samples we took confirm it! Somehow, Phantom’s part human.”

Hope. A little, tiny seed of hope. “Does that mean you’ll stop hunting him? Being human and all?”

The seed was very quickly drowned, set on fire, buried deep into the earth, and thrown into a volcano as Maddie shook her head. “No reason to. He’s still mostly ghost, still not sentient. And he may be an even bigger boon to science, beyond the scope of ectology! What if small snippets of ectoplasm could be merged with human cells? It could cure illnesses, extend life itself! Look at this!”

Danny’s feet didn’t work. He couldn’t move as she minimized the file, double clicking on another one on her desktop and again the feeling of all of his insides clenching violently consumed him.

He was on the screen. Phantom, tied down, jumpsuit ripped off his form. Based on the angle in the video, Danny suspected there was a camera implanted in the ceiling above the table.

Maddie appeared to have been watching it earlier, the video was clearly around the middle of the…event. Green leaked from every part of him, on screen. He remembered. Every cut. Every gagged scream. This was, however, the most unpleasant thing he’d ever seen. There was something incredibly wrong about seeing straight into your own rib cage, body split apart and ripped open, flaps of skin pinned to yourself to make sure nothing obstructed their access. Other wounds littered him, that would’ve been incredibly concerning if not for the gaping void in his central, black bones shining eerily, small drops of green blood glowing against the bones’ dark backdrop. Chunks of skin were gouged out of him from all over. A deep cut along his right leg, all the way to the bone, from hip to knee, held open with a surgical instrument Danny didn’t know the name of.

Yet, still, Danny knew they weren’t at the worst part. They were nearly, though.

Maddie pressed play and Danny’s screams assaulted his ears, the audio making him stumble back a few steps.

“Oops!” Maddie said, quickly pressing the mute button, though the video continued playing. She swiveled toward him in her chair, a reassuring smile on her face as she saw the horror stricken one on his. “Don’t worry, dear. He can’t actually feel pain.”

Danny nodded. He wasn’t really hearing her anymore. He didn’t need the audio to play. His memory sufficiently provided the sounds as he struggled to rip his eyes from the screen. But they’d gotten to the part. The worst part.

The bone saw glinted in Jack’s hands as they applied their anti-ecto coating onto it.

When the blade started moving, Danny’s mind provided the sound, despite his desperate urge to suppress it. Jack leaned over, pressing the saw into intact ribs. Green ectoplasm and black bone dust began to fly. And his brain supplied the smell, too. The smell of burning bone and cooking flesh. He hadn’t known bone could even burn before that.

Once the saw had done the brunt of the work, Jack reached in and pulled, splintering bones already made more brittle from the gun they’d shot him with before they caught him, a burn deep within himself that he knew to be the burn of the ecto coating.

The entire time, the ghost on screen tried to scream, tried to fight, wrists straining against iron clad, phase proof shackles. All he managed to do was cry.

Danny pleaded with his body to move, to get out, away from what played innocently on screen.

But this was a train wreck he couldn’t stop watching.

Once the bones had been cut and pulled, Maddie stepped back into view, scalpel in her hand. Jack set the saw to the table beside them, just barely still in frame, Danny’s blood dripping languidly from the serrated blades.

This was when she’d started excising organs. Danny’s heart and lungs had came out first. Again, portions surgically sliced off for smaller samples before being placed in off-screen jars.

The still open storage closet loomed at the edge of Danny’s vision.

Maddie pressed fast forward, either forgetting Danny was there or thinking he was so fascinated by their work.

He watched as every organ he had was cut out, carved up, and placed out of the camera’s view in triple speed. They were getting to the end. Or, at least, the end of what he knew. He watched as Jack again picked up the bone saw. Danny rubbed his right wrist absentmindedly.

Danny was numb at this point. That wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He was here and alive. The glowing figure with hair stained green and a blue tint to its skin couldn’t be him, either of him.

Especially as the saw was placed against the glowing figure’s right wrist and pushed down, harshly severing tendon, muscle, bone. The hand, which had been continuing to try to pull away, slapping and punching uselessly into the air, went limp, plopping onto the table beneath him. The other hand got the same treatment. If it hadn’t been for the cuffs at his elbows, there would’ve been nothing left to hold his arms, oozing green stumps that they were.

And now for the grand finale, the last of his memory. The pain hadn’t been any worse, his entire body had been agony by then. But, as Jack had pressed the moving saw against his neck, as his vocal cords and esophagus and spinal column were hacked through, that had been the most terrifying. Because he could see Jack’s face.

Jack had been having fun.

Danny must’ve made a noise, as Maddie paused the video, glancing over to him as he pressed one hand against his throat, the vague ridge of the small line under his fingertips. “Isn’t it fascinating? All those human adjacencies! Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” she said, noticing how he held his neck, “remember, ghosts can’t feel pain! They also can’t die that way, since Phantom managed to escape.”

Danny’s eyes drifted to the bar at the bottom of the video - since it was paused, it showed how much longer was left of the video.

It was only halfway.

Maddie continued. “Which has me so upset, still! Your father convinced me to turn the recording off when we left, to save memory, so we don’t know how he got out!”

A nod of acknowledgement was all he could manage. He knew the rest of what happened, even if he didn’t remember it. His last memories were as he was being beheaded. But he knew more limbs had been removed. He’d been stitched back together, reminded of how Frankenstein’s monster was supposed to look, just less lopsided and with better stitches. He’d apparently slept for a week when he first got to the Far Frozen. They’d had to sew him up at most major joints and some random spots - neck, wrists, elbows, knees, ankles. Left forearm, right calf. What was even the point of slicing him up like that, cutting organs out? What had they been hoping to learn or accomplish?

Jazz hadn’t talked about finding him. She refused to and he could not blame her. She’d told the yetis of the Far Frozen, once, and that was enough. They’d told him.

Sometimes he wished they hadn’t.

Jazz had just been looking for her parents to give them her final report card, since school had only let out three days prior. The lab had just been an obvious place to check.

The report card never made it to Jack or Maddie. Jazz had dropped it as soon as she saw the gore splattered around. Seen her little brother in pieces. She had gathered up all his body parts, though she hadn’t thought or noticed the organs missing too, and loaded them into the Speeder. She’d been running on pure instinct and theory.

Danny still glowed. He still had solid form. Surely that meant he could recover, right?

She’d been right, of course. A doctor named Hailstorm had sewn Danny’s body back together, closed the incision in his chest. The damage from being cut into a jigsaw puzzle had healed quickly - his body able to merge back to itself easily, since all those parts were still there. Inside him was another matter. His body was regrowing entire organs. His stomach was gone, he hadn’t felt hungry in so long. His heart had half reformed, the lack of blood flow making him so cold. Lungs semi there, almost ready to truly draw breath again instead of merely resting in his empty chest cavity.

He nor Jazz spent time around Jack or Maddie anymore, ever, typically even spending their nights away, but the elder Fentons didn’t notice. They never noticed. But maybe now that was a good thing. How would he ever explain his intense need to get away from them if they were even five percent as attentive as the Mansons or Foleys?

“Are you alright, honey?” Maddie asked, Danny tearing his eyes away from the frozen screen, paused right when his head had rolled to the side. He watched her for a moment, thinking. Remembering how she had flat out said they knew Phantom was half human and were still willing to slice up a child.

A fake smile was quickly plastered onto his face as he moved towards the stairs, slick ectoplasm still wet on his hands, the eyes of his would-be executioner following him.

“I’m fine.”

Prompts:

Lexosaurus -A metal table. Of course, it was always a metal table. Berry -Danny learns he can’t die from dismemberment. Mossy-covered-bones -“Oops”

#Danny phantom #phic phight #mind the tags #grace writes

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wearenorth · 9 months

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Earlier I made a post about how Dany was disrespected in season 8. And it got me thinking that there's far more examples ot that.

So we have that scene before Dany arrives at Winterfell, most likely Winter Town, since it was never specified. I'm sure the word from Winterfell had spread before Dany arrived, that Jon bend the knee, that Dany is their Queen and that she coming North, but again, not a single sign of respect for a royalty from a smallfolk. Not a single person bowed their head or knelt to the person who put aside her fight for the IT and came North to fight for them, no, they just stared at her with clear dissatisfaction, disgust- something what makes them xenophobics. What's interesting - do we ever have the same northerners reaction towards the wildlings or to the Knights of the Vale? No? Then, of course, some of you can argue that the Knights came from of the Vale of Arryn - they are Westerosi, and the wildlings are from Westeros as well: they originates from another side of the Wall, but still the same continent. But that's not how works. The knights and wildlings are considered just as outsiders as anyone else that are not from the North, but somehow this xenophobic bullshit is only showed towards Dany and her armies. What's also interesting, no one from the smallfolk showed any respect towards Jon either - what raises question - did Winterfell, who was in Sansa's control at that moment, started to let people disrespect their guests and rulers? Oh, and that scene afterwards, when the dragons flew over Winterfell with Sansa standing on castle's battlements - am I the only one who saw her face in that moment and can hear: "You're spoiling it. You're spoiling everything". You know, one of Sansa's lines from the Trident incident in season 1.

Moving forward, the scene in Great Hall: "What do dragons eat anyway?". What is this supposed to mean: a threat, a mockery, an insult, a lack of knowledge, a shot at trying to undermine Dany? Well, at least in that scene Dany answered all disrespect from Sansa with a nice veiled threat - also a statement for others not to fuck with her, but does disrespect for her stops here?

Another scene, outside Winterfell at the trenches, before Dany and Jon's flight. I think this moment is very important, cause it was one of the few scenes where Daenerys very clearly stated that she doesn't need people to kiss her feet, she doesn't need people's love or for them to become her friends, she doesn't even need them to like her - the only thing she asks is respect. That's the very same thing she asks from Sansa - the person, who D&D wanted to push as the embodiment of what "true" northerner is, but they kind of forgot that the guest right is still held sacred in the North, meaning that you not only don't harm your guests, but show them respect as well.

All these examples are from GoT season 8 episode 1 + that example in my earlier post (link in replies).

Dunno whether it's funny/insulting/ironic that majority of dissrespect for Daenerys comes from Sansa - the person who supposed to be the walking embodiment of courtesies (at least in the books).

#daenerys targaryen #anti d&d #anti got #anti sansa #anti sansa stans

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zukosasukelovebot · 5 months

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You share one z*ta*a post (wasn't even ship related ) and your dash is suddenly full ot it. Not opposed to it but it makes my flight or fight mode activated

#anti zutara #katara #zuko

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the-moonlightwitch-official · 2 years

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reveal pt.1

SUMMARY: You have been kidnapped and will remain captive until you fall in love with your kidnapper. You wake up with zero memories of who you are and how you got there. Overtime you gain memories that will unlock the emotions and experiences that you’ve had with your very eventful life, and the role that your captor has played in each of those past memories.

NOTE: This story is loosely based off of a movie called HIPPOPOTAMUS. take note that the story is somewhat like the movie, except the captor is Aizawa. and the story will have some of its own twists, and the memories will be a little different than the ones in the movie. You can watch the movie HIPPOPOTAMUS for free on TUBI

SERIES WARNING: KIDNAPPING, MENTIONS OF DROWNING, MEDICATIONS, MENTIONS OF CUTTING A LIMB, BLOOD, EVENTUAL SMUT, TRAMUA, MENTIONS OF RAPE, PHYSICAL FIGHTING, MENTIONS OF DEATH AND LOSS, MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY.

You can't breathe. You feel heavy, like chains are pulling you down. The more you move, the heavier they feel, the faster you're dragged down. It gets harder and harder to reach the surface. Flailing your arms and kicking your legs do you no good when you're drowning. The cold water causes goose bumps against your skin.

Air bubbles escaping your mouth as you scream as hard and loud as you can. Nothing, Nothing, is coming to the rescue. The mucky, dark gray water consuming you and your memories. You gather all the strength you could possibly have left and push yourself to reach the surface. It’s working. You're so close. You kick your legs and feel the heavy weight on your ankles release. Furthermore, you feel lighter. You finally feel an escape. Your fight or flight kicks in hard. You're closer to the surface, you can just feel it. You can just smell the cool, fresh air already. Likewise, you reach your left arm up to touch the surface. Right before your fingers could touch the surface, everything fades to black.

Blinking open your eyes, you see the color white surrounding you. Eyes fully opening and looking around. You notice that you're in a room, an old looking white room. Ice-cold, white floor tiles, white brick walls, old white door with deep cracks and chipping paint. To your right was a tiny window all the way up the wall. Way out of your reach and barred. To your left was a white toilet and sink. Above the toilet was a large drawing of a pink brain and next to it, above the sink, was the drawing of a side view of a blue chair tipping backwards. In front of you was the old white door, and on the left of the door was an old brown chair. On top of it sat a purse, a tan one.

You were sitting up with both of your legs straight out in front of you. You were wearing a white tank top and gray shorts. Your hair was pulled up into a neat ponytail. Your head felt a bit tight. You reached up and noticed a white bandage wrapped around the middle of your head. A Blood stain on it. You gasped and moved to get up, but was quickly stopped by the sharp pain that ran through your calves and hamstrings. You let out an audible groan of absolute pain, and that's when you noticed white bandages wrapped around your knees, and a blood stain on the bandages where your leg ligament is located.

Suddenly you can hear footsteps creaking on the floorboards above, and then they could be heard going down some stairs. The thumps of footsteps are heard coming closer, and it snapped you back to reality. You looked up from your legs when the old white door opened with a loud creak, and in shuffled a tired looking man with long black, unkempt hair. He was wearing a dark navy blue long sleeve shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Black sweatpants, and gray slippers. He was nursing a cup of coffee. Not only that, but he was obviously toned and muscular. The long sleeve navy blue shirt hugging his biceps tightly. His forearms were muscular as well. He looked you over and shuffled over to the toilet and closed the lid and sat on top of it. One leg rested on the other as he sat back and sighed loudly. And looked back at you while taking a long sip of coffee.

“Who are you, where am I?” He took another sip of coffee before answering your questions. “My name is Shota, and I have kidnapped you, and you're going to be held captive until you fall in love with me.” You looked at him confused, and he just looked amused as he took another sip. “Why?” was all you could ask. “Because I said so.” he answered. “Why can't I remember anything, why can't I remember who I am?” you asked. “Because you’ve been in an accident and lost all your memories.” you looked towards the ground in confusion and defeat. “Your name is Y/n, you're 28 years old, you are an only child, you're still afraid of the dark, Your favorite color is f/c (f/c stands for your FAVORITE COLOR.) You will be served 3 meals a day with water to stay hydrated. I will give you a wash every other day. You are being given pain meds, and meds to stop your menstrual cycle. You're taking pain meds because your legs are in great pain, because I cut your leg ligaments.” you looked at him in absolute horror before he continued talking.

He stalked over to you and crouched to your level. “Running away would be useless, as would standing or trying to walk. Trying to do any of that would result in agonizing pain, and it would take longer for your legs to heal. You might even possibly fuck up your legs permanently. If you need to go to the toilet, I will assist you. Do not try to do this yourself.” You looked at him, trying to process things. Because honestly, what the fuck. You watched as he stood back up and spoke again. “Lights on at 7:00 a.m. and lights out at 11:00 p.m. and do not try to escape. We’re 10 miles from the nearest household, and your legs won't work.”

“Over there on that chair is your purse. I have not gone through it, for it is none of my business and your personal belongings.” You stared at the purse, before he started speaking again.

“ If I were you y/n, I would listen to me and follow directions.” He said before turning around to walk out. Once he reached the door and opened it, you stopped him. “Wait!” he turned towards you. You played with the hem of your shorts nervously. “D-did you rape me?” he looked at you and honestly answered. “No.” before walking out. The door closed with a loud groan.

You leaned your head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling in defeat. The occasional sound of footsteps going up a staircase and a loud door creaking open and closed a floor above the ceiling. You looked down at the silver bracelet on your right wrist, thinking deeply. It read your name on it.

~TIME SKIP~

A red tray sat next to you. On it was a white plate with brown crumbs on it. A fork and knife laying on the plate. Next to the plate was a clear glass face down, and beside the glass was a tiny paper cup filled with a couple of meds. You ate the food and drank the water, but didn’t take the meds.

You looked up nervously as the door crept open and in came shota. He stalked over to the tray next to you, taking a peek at it and looked up at the ceiling letting out a large sigh. He turned towards you and bent down to your level again, reaching to the tray and grabbing the small cup of meds and sliding it close to you. You stared straight ahead, refusing to look at him, before he spoke. “The pain will only get worse, y/n, if you don't take your medication.” Your kidnapper was met with silence for a few moments before he spoke again. “Please y/n.” You looked away from his direction and served him with more silence. He sighed again and turned towards the tray, grabbed it and stood up straight before heading towards the door. “Why are you doing this?” you asked. He ignored you and walked out, closing the door behind him. You let out a scream, and then a louder one. “HEY” “HEY” you screamed.

~TIME SKIP~

The lights in the room turned red, which filled the room with a ruby red color. You were asleep, your body sitting upright with your legs out in front of you. Another tray sat beside you. On it is a white plate with a fork and knife on it, besides it was an empty clear glass. Next to the other side of the plate was a tipped over, empty medicine cup. Indicating that you took your meds this time. In front of you was your kidnapper, shota. Still wearing the same outfit he was wearing earlier that day. He stood closely in front of your unconscious body, his feet planted on either side of your legs as he stared down at you. He slowly picked up his right foot and moved it closer to you, and then his left. The slippers he was wearing on his feet, only made soft sounds as he was trying to be quiet.

He bent down the upper part of his body and gently grabbed both of your arms, and laid you down sideways on the ground, he took a small step back before moving your legs as well. Trying to put you in a more comfortable position.

~TIME SKIP~

The sun came through on the upper window on the wall and bathed your body in soft light. You're still fast asleep and laying in the same position Shota had moved your body into. The door creaked open and in came Shota carrying a tray with your breakfast on it. His gray slippers made soft sounds against the floor as he quietly shuffled in and sat the tray down next to you. Shota turned towards you and crouched to your level. He looked at you in admiration. Before, he pulled a tissue out of his pocket to blow his nose. Afterwards, he stuffed it back into his pocket and grabbed your arms to pull you back up into a seated position, and extending your legs outward. He Then knocked on the wall a couple of times above your head. You startled awake. He took a step back and watched as you looked around.

“Breakfast is served y/n.” The door shut, indicating that he left after saying that. You looked up immediately, as if you had a plan.

Calming down your heaving breathing was easy. Everything you just did made you feel like a kid that got caught with their hand in a cookie jar. The door opened and in came shota with another tray of food. He crouched down and sat it in front of the tray he gave you earlier. Right as he was about to grab the tray from earlier and leave, he looked at you and grabbed your chin, moving your head left to right and inspecting you. Your face was a flush red and your breathing was heavy. He sighed, standing up and facing away from you. “You're in pain, y/n, you should have told me.” He reached into the right pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a dark brown pill bottle. He twisted open the bottle cap, tilting the bottle, and began to gently shake the pills out into the palm of his hand. “Now I have to up the dosage.”

You struggled to scoot across the room and tried to keep the groans of pain quiet. Likewise, you finally made it somewhat close to the chair near the door, before giving up scooting because of the pain and just reaching as far as you can for the purse. You successfully grabbed it after a few attempts and flipped the top of it open and immediately began rummaging through it, trying to find something that could get you out of here. You dropped items from the bag onto the floor as you looked, such as a tampon bag, a pen, chapstick, gum, and a yellow tennis ball. You lost hope. Your hand hit something in the bag before you grabbed it and took it out. It was a small makeup mirror.

Something else collapsed out of the purse as you took the mirror out. You looked down. It was your ID. You held up the mirror and ID. You looked at your picture on the card and then at yourself in the mirror. Looking at the information on the card, you could tell that he was telling you the truth about your name and age. You closed the mirror and put it back in the purse along with your card. You grabbed the tennis ball and held it close to you as you pondered things, but your train of thought was quickly broken by a loud footstep upstairs. The footsteps making the light flicker.

From your short time here, you quickly learned that a loud footstep that makes the light flicker is an early sign that he’s on his way to your room. You shuffled everything back into the bag and threw it back onto the chair, before scooting as fast as you could back to your original space. Never noticing that the tennis ball rolled out of the purse. Once your back hit the wall, you looked to your right and noticed the ball before reaching over to grab it and putting it in the back pocket of your shorts.

He put the cap back onto the bottle and put it back into his pocket. Crouching down to your level, he grabbed the unfinished water from your breakfast tray, and held his hand up that was full of the pills. His hand was in a soft fist to protect the pills in case you lashed out. “Open your mouth now.” You hesitated before opening your mouth. He smiled, very pleased that you didn't fight him. He gently put all the pills into your mouth. Once the pills were in your mouth, He raised the water to your lips. “Swallow.” He tilted your chin up as you gulped down the water. “Good.”

You looked up at him. His long, raven colored hair covered most of his face. He wiped some hair out of his face, and you noticed the scar under his right eye. He looked back down at you. “Show me.” He gently grabbed your chin as you opened your mouth again to show that you swallowed all the pills. Furthermore, he patted your head and took the breakfast tray and left the room.

You watched as he shuffled away, He opened the door and turned towards you with a soft smile before closing the door. You rested your head against the wall.

“Holy shit, that was close.”

#yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead #aizawa #shota aizawa #yandere mha

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