#i like to think that that's his petrified corpse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adrift-in-thyme · 28 days

Text

@uncleskyrule happy belated birthday!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I wrote this! I hope it's worth the wait!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Four knows what sleep deprivation looks like.

He’s seen it spelled out on his grandfather’s face when long days turn his usual joviality to melancholy exhaustion and draws the shadows of half moons beneath his eyes.

He’s seen it painted across Dot’s beautiful features after an arduous night when the memories resurface, memories of a leering crimson eye, of claims to possession hanging heavy over her, of cages and darkness and smothering magic.

He’s seen it shadowed across his own face too, when the battles within and without grow to be too much, darkening his features, drawing them thin, sucking the youthful fat from his cheeks, the light from his eyes.

And he’s seen it…on the faces of his brothers.

On Time’s when the moon is full. On Twilight’s when a quiet twilight falls and skeletal trees whisper in tongues known only to some. On Wild’s when the amnesia recedes, Warriors’ when phantom lips press across his cheek, Wind’s after he awakens screaming his sister’s name. On Hyrule’s when he gives too much, Legend’s when the adventures he never speaks of tell their tale in his petrified cries at night…

And now on, Sky’s.

Some may find it strange for a man who can drift off practically anywhere to suffer from fatigue. Add to that uncanny ability, Sky’s penchant for seeming one of the most mature of their little group, the most…put together.

But Four is well acquainted with the deceptions someone can tell through demeanor alone. He himself has been dubbed mature, put together, responsible. And while, yes, those labels are true (Four would certainly be cross if people decided to start dubbing him childish or, Hylia forbid, a disaster as they call some more unruly children in his Hyrule), the lie rests in the assumptions they bring about.

Beliefs of invincibility and impervious spirit. Beliefs that there is no need to be gentle or kind, no need to offer respite or lighten the load.

It is the same fate their leader suffers so often, the same Warriors and Twilight sometimes crumble beneath. Suffering silently, yet always strong. So strong.

And Sky…

Sky hides it better than anyone.

Four is uncertain whether or not he is the only one who notices his distress. Perhaps, he is.

It doesn’t matter though. In fact, if he is the only one who has taken note of it then it is all the more important that he do something before Sky’s inevitable collapse.

But life never makes things simple. And in the end, he’s too late.

It has happened too many times now — a portal that separates the heroes into mismatched groups. Four thinks that perhaps, after his near defeat at the combined hands of the champion and the rancher the Shadow is attempting to be more careful.

More conniving. More vicious.

Attack first and you won’t be defeated. Such is the attitude of wild animals and beasts. More than likely, the Shadow shares it too.

This would explain why in addition to splitting the heroes up, this portal also dumps them right onto a battlefield.

Or at least, it does for Sky, Legend, and himself. Four can’t be sure what the others are facing. But he can only pray it isn’t a sand-drenched dungeon packed with redeads and stalfos.

The unearthly screeches of the emaciated corpses fill his ears as he fights, teeth gritted, heart pounding. It’s all the three heroes can do to stay out of reach of their paralyzing cries.

Back up to escape one beast and you nearly collide with the mad swing of a stalfos’ claymore.

Four winces as the very tip of a blade slices across his left arm and leaves an angry gash in its wake.

That’s going to need a bit of potion to remedy.

Beside him, Legend growls what sounds like a curse as he plunges his hand into his pouch and retrieves a fire rod. He brings it in a sweeping horizontal arc. In a blaze of blistering heat, a group of the monsters fall.

“Well done,” Four says with a breathless smirk. He plunges his sword into the gaping chest cavity of one of the stalfos still struggling for survival on the darkened floorboards. With a raspy exhale, it dissolves into ash. “I think you just turned the battle in our favor.”

“I’d better have,” Legend huffs. “The sooner we get rid of these things, the sooner we can get out of here.” He screws up his face in a grimace. More monsters crumple beneath his skilled hands. “It smells like death.”

It does, indeed, Four thinks as, finally, the last of the monsters fall. The stench of it hangs heavy, permeating the thick darkness that surrounds them, wafting from the thin threads of light carrying from faltering torches.

But now that the battle is over they can focus on escape. Hopefully, to a place where it proves easier to breathe.

He sheathes his sword, glances around. The gash on his arm throbs and the various bruises and smaller cuts he earned join in its stomach-churning beat. Still, it could have gone far worse.

“We all okay?” Legend asks, bangs falling into his face as he replaces his fire rod.

“Yes,” Four says. “How about you…Sky?”

His voice pitches an octave higher as he catches sight of the Skyloftian, turning the question almost into an exclamation.

The knight lies crumpled where he had stood mere moments before. The Master Sword lies fallen beside him, his cape flows over him like a blanket of snow. His breath comes in shuddering gasps that grate upon Four’s ears as he races to his side.

“Sky!”

He shakes him, slightly, and hazy blue orbs flutter open. Sky groans.

“What happened?” Legend drops down beside him, panic in his voice and a half-empty potion bottle in his hand. “Did a monster get him?”

Four shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” A quick inspection provides no sign of blood or other injury. But Sky’s face is ashen and he shudders as though in the throes of fever. “Sky, are you hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” Sky curls his fingers into a fist, as though attempting to gather strength. “J-just…just…” He swallows, tries to drag himself up, and nearly collapses again. It’s only Four and Legend’s quick movement that keeps him upright. “‘M fine.”

“Like hell you are!” Legend’s eyes are blazing with emotion now. “Sky, what happened?”

Sky shudders again. He glances down at the trembling hands he has folded into one, white-knuckled fist. There is a certain helplessness in the look.

“I dunno,” he croaks. “Was fighting and the room start-started swirling.” He curls in on himself further, and Four wonders if the next shaky exhale brings tears with it. His voice is very small. “I just-just fell.”

“And you didn’t have the strength to get back up,” Four says, solemnly. An idea is already forming in his head, a confirmation of what he has witnessed these past few hellish weeks.

I should’ve acted sooner.

But there had been fights both in and out of the group, and injuries and secrets unveiled. There had been discussions long overdue, restorations to be made in the face of pain and sorrow. And he, he had been in the midst of it all.

Between explaining the Four Sword and its powers and making up with Wild, he just hadn’t found the time…

“You haven’t been sleeping, Sky…have you?”

Now, Sky raises his head, glazed eyes focusing unsteadily on Four. Slowly, he shakes his head.

Legend blows out a sigh. He sits down beside Four and brings a dusty hand over his sweaty brow.

“Sleep deprivation? Yeah, that’ll do it. How long haven’t you been sleeping?”

Sky swallows. A beat passes, then another. The oppressive feel of death begins to crowd in on Four again. He struggles to breathe beneath it.

Then, “Since Twilight,” Sky whispers, and Four’s heart plummets to the depths of his stomach.

Legend’s hand falls to his lap with more viciousness than defeat. His face screws up in an expression that toes the line between sorrowful and intensely irritated. “I knew something was up! I knew it! I should’ve — ”

“Couldn’t have done anything,” Sky croaks, leaning further into Four’s touch. A small smile quirks his lips. “Was me that should-should’ve d-done something in the…in the first place.”

Legend’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

Sky looks back down at his hands.

Another theory is beginning to form in Four’s mind now, joining with the previous one, enlarging it, and embellishing it until things start to make sense. A theory born out of something Sky has said before, a snippet he had overheard and tossed aside in favor of giving his full attention to fighting the Yiga that had taken Wild captive.

“I’m sorry, champion,” the Skyloftian had said as he had helped Warriors tend to the boy’s wounds. “I was late…again. I’m sorry.”

“You blame yourself.” Four measures the words carefully, speaking each one with intricate precision. Lest he step in the wrong place and cause them all to plummet. “You blame yourself for what happened to Twilight.”

Sky lifts his bloodshot eyes. A tear wells in one of them then spills over to slither gracefully down his cheek.

“Why would you blame yourself?” Legend asks, even as comprehension burns in his violet irises. “It’s not your fault the rancher got hit. You weren’t even near him when it happened!”

“I was near enough.” Sky’s voice is quieter than ever now, more like a whisper than anything else. “I know the skyward strike. I could’ve hit that…that thing if I’d been…b-been faster.” His breath hitches. But to Four it sounds defeated more than panicked. “I was late and he paid for it. I’m a-always…”

He curls in on himself, weighed down by exhaustion, shuddering with pain and sorrow. Legend looks at Four and Four looks at Legend. Then, slowly, together they reach out and draw Sky into their arms.

It’s strange. Four hadn’t taken Legend for someone willing to show physical affection freely. But he embraces the Skyloftian as though it is no price to pay. As though he has done so before.

Long nights. A shuddering sob. Soft feet dressed in boots with wings adorning their sides. Whispers in the dark that exhaustion muddles before Four can make them out. Amethyst eyes staring from over a hazy cloud of silken white. Sliding shut as a larger form huddles deeper into an embrace.

Sky shivers again and Legend holds him tighter.

“It’s not your fault,” Four murmurs, pouring every ounce of confidence he possesses into those words and praying that it is enough. “It’s not your fault, Sky. You did everything you could do for him. There’s nothing else you could have done.”

Sky doesn’t reply.

They hold him, whispering assurances, as his tears wet their tunics and his fatigued body quakes beneath the burden he forces it to carry. They hold him until, at last, in the murky darkness, surrounded by carcasses of monsters and piles of resting sand, he drifts off.

In the arms of his brothers.

#trin writes #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu legend #lu four #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #angst

166 notes · View notes

dellalyra · 10 months

Note

I looked at the prompt list, but i literally COULD NOT decide, but i was thinking, what if Megumi or Tsumiki had a really bad nightmare? How would Gojo and Reader help them? I was thinking baby Megumi, in his sleepy, not being as menacing and just being scared and asking reader for help (cause gojo would bully him)

Also Ily, thank you for your service to society.

A/N: cryin screamin throwin up i can’t this was so sweet to write I think I got a cavity. Having soft sleepy baby Megumi made me so happy to write bc I feel he definitely had his vulnerable tiny little boy moments with these two after he settled in - still a prickly little cactus man most days but occasionally he just needed a cuddle - bc who wouldn’t? Especially if it’s Gojo giving them. Also ily and thank you so much these kind of messages MAKE MY FUCKIN DAY. Keep em coming!!!!!

listen to: luv note - chloe moriondo

la lune - billie marten

A Little Extra Love

Waking up to the sound of obvious nightmares wasn’t unusual for you. You’d been sleeping beside Satoru for a couple of years now, and you’ve shared rooms with Geto and Shoko - the four of you have seen too much shit to sleep unscathed. At least once a month, you’d be sitting with Satoru, still shaking and crying from the lingering feelings of fear and pain stemming from the nightmare - of Riko, of Suguru, of Toji - of losing you. You were no stranger yourself, dreams of bloodied white hair in your lap and vacant blue eyes with a stab wound through his throat plagued you - the image of Suguru holding a young girl's corpse, of the last time you saw Haibara all poisoned your sleep now and again.

So waking at 2am to the sounds of soft whimpers made you immediately turn around to wake your boyfriend from what you expected to be his nightmare - only to find him fast asleep, hair wild across the pillow and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth as he lay starfished across the bed. There was no relief however in seeing a peaceful Satoru - because that meant it was one of the kids.

They’d been with you for about 9 months now, and it was almost Megumi’s 7th birthday.

You bolted up, trying to stay silent as you creeped out your door and ran down the hallway to the kids rooms - the sound was coming from Megumi’s room so you softly opened the door and came face to face with a sight that broke your heart. Megumi was clutching his frog plush so tight that his small knuckles were white and his face was contorted in fear - whimpers and soft cries coming from his trembling mouth.

Dashing across to his bed, you gently sat on the bed beside him. You knew that waking anyone - let alone a 6 year old - abruptly from a nightmare would only cause more fear, so you began to softly coo his name and stroke his soft black hair away from his face. After about 20 seconds, you placed a hand on his little chest and rubbed soothing circles - causing his eyes to flash open and the frog to be clutched even tighter to his chest as he let out a yelp at whatever woke him, eyes wide and petrified frantically scanning the room before he surprised you by flinging his tiny arms around your neck and clutching you right and crawling his way into your lap.

“You’re okay sweet boy, you’re safe. It was a nasty dream, that’s all.” You coo into his hair, with the softest voice you can muster. You hate seeing him like this, you wish he didn’t have the trauma he did so he could worry about things normal little boys did instead.

He sniffled into your chest, head pressed into your fluffy pyjama top face first. You continue the slow cycles on his back and wrap your arm around his legs to keep his close to you.

“Do you wanna talk about it, baby?” You ask.

He shudders, but nods.

“He c-came to get us, my dad, he came in here and took me and ‘Miki and said w-we had to leave with him to the big Zen’in family and never come home again and h-he said you didn’t w-want us and-” and the sobs took over as you got the gist of the dream and if the ghost of Toji Fushiguro was in front of you right now you’d kill him and send him back to hell again.

“Oh, my sweet boy - that’s never gonna happen. We’re never leaving you or Tsumiki, we always will want you guys - we love you both so much. I promise, no matter how much me and Satoru annoy you guys you can’t get rid of us, ‘Kay? We’re a family now. Your dad isn’t taking you from us, pinky promise.”

‘Because your unofficially adopted father killed him and him and I threatened the Zen’in family so much that they’re too scared to come within a mile of you two!’ Is the bit you leave out.

You also leave out that you and Satoru are looking at legally adopting them - that’s for another, happier time.

He sticks his little pinkie finger out and locks it with yours, sniffling a tiny bit more and rubbing his face (snot and all) onto your koala print top, but you couldn’t care less when you can feel the shaking start to settle.

“We can stay with you guys forever, ‘Miki too? Even though she has no magic stuff like me and you guys because the Zen’in said that she wasn’t worth keeping and -” He asks.

“Megumi - we don’t want you two because of what you can or can’t do - we love you guys as Megumi and Tsumiki, nothing else. Even if neither of you could do any of that stuff, you’re stuck with us, okay? Satoru and I have enough magic to keep us all safe - the whole family, okay?” You hate the Zen’in family for even planting that fear in his little brain.

“I love you too.” He says as his tears dry and you wipe his little face. This is only the second time he’s said it to you both, once was a few weeks ago when you and Satoru put him to sleep and both whispered “love you!” into his softly lit room and he whispered “love you guys too.”

You both sobbed that night - you’re both only 21 - can’t be doing that bad of a job with them if he says it back, can you?

“You’re such a brave boy. If you get more yucky dreams again, you come get me or Satoru, okay?” You plonk a kiss on his spiky hair.

“Just you. Not Satoru.” He looks down, fiddling with your necklace.

“Why not, sweetie?”

“I - don’t want him to know.”

“About the nightmares?”

He nods.

“He - he’s the strongest. I don’t want him to think I’m not brave or strong.” He says, words that shouldn’t even compute that way in his head.

“Absolutely not - baby, who told you that being scared makes you not brave or strong?” You tilt his little head up.

“My dad.”

“Well your dad’s dumb then. You can only be really brave if you’re scared. Being scared and fighting anyway is the bravest thing a person can do, I promise. Think about it this way - who’s the bravest and strongest person you know?” You ask as he giggles at you saying Toji’s dumb (you’ve plenty of other names too for that man.)

“You and Satoru.” He says with such resolve your heart melts, you expected him to say Satoru, so being included felt good.

“Satoru and I both get nightmares too, I had one last week, Satoru a few nights ago. It doesn’t mean you’re not brave or strong - it just means you need a little extra love, that’s all.” You nod at him, and you seem the surprise in his eyes at the revelation that the strongest and bravest people he knows get nightmares too, shattering the words Toji had planted into smithereens. How could nightmares mean you’re not those things if you guys had them? You had to know, because you and Aunty Koko were the smartest people in the world. Maybe Ijichi too.

He’s quiet for a minute.

“So if I have a bad dream - I can come get you or Satoru?” He asks.

“You can get more or him for anything at all, honey, not just bad dreams. We’re always here for you, and nothing will change our minds about how much we love you, or how brave and strong and smart and kind you are - ‘Kay?” He nods into your chest at this.

He settles down, small fingers still fiddling with your pendant.

“C’mon, do you wanna come stay with us in our room tonight?” You say.

He thinks for a second.

Then nods, and yawns.

So you lift him onto your hip, ensuring he has his frog and his water bottle and carry him down the hall into your room. Satoru’s still splayed across the bed like he’s determined to use every single centimetre of his long ass body to claim territory.

You point at the drool on his face and Megumi giggles, hearing Satoru order dessert in his sleep.

You lay him down between you both, and crawl in under the covers as he settles in - the movement stirring Satoru, who’s eyes open and he looks in confusion.

“Princess whatcha doin’ up? S’late. Wait - what you doin’ here kid?” He slurs, lifting himself onto his side to face you both.

Megumi looks at you and you smile, tucking him into the bed with you both.

“‘Gumi had a bad dream, ‘toru - so he’s going to stay with us tonight, a little extra love - yeah?” You say, petting both your boys hair. ‘A little extra love’ was what you had said to Satoru when you found him awake after a nightmare back in first year of high school. He smiled at that, eyes dropping back closed as he ruffled Megumi’s hair.

“Bad dream are the worst, aren’t they kiddo? I hate ‘em. If any bad guys come near you I’ll blast them into space, ‘kay? You just shout for me in your dream and let me deal with ‘em.” Satoru mumbles, sleep quickly taking him again, as he shuffles in closer to the middle and you both wrap an arm around the little boy who is snuggling in to return to sleep.

“Promise?” Megumi asks, poking Satoru’s nose.

“Pinky promise.” Satoru replies, lips quirked but eyes shut.

Megumi smiles softly to himself, and hugs his frog and shuts his eyes.

You let out a yawn, eyes closing heavy.

“Goodnight boys, I love you both.”

“Night Y/N. Luh’ you too.” Megumi mumbles, hair splayed almost identically to Satoru’s.

“Night night, Princess. Love ya’ always, you too kiddo.”

No more nightmares that night, just four sleeping soundly in a quiet cottage.

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #family formations extras #family formations au #family formations drabbles

650 notes · View notes

wayfayrr · 7 months

Text

I've been on a little bit of a first kick recently - so here's a first meeting of reader and him based on this piece of the dolls au by @ovegakart (this amazing comic piece in particular) and on the topic of tagging people I've got some new friends on discord who have a love of first so consider this a gift <3 @fanfic-fairy-fountain @dreaming-of-lu @angry-trashcan @neverchecking <333 enjoy!

[masterlist]

“Hello..? Time… Sky… Link? Is anyone there?”

As if being forced into Hyrule wasn’t bad enough when I was with the chain, now that cursed shadow decides to push it even further by separating me from them? Why not just kill me outright… Is it to try to give the heroes hope? Wouldn’t it be worse for them for it to kill me outright than string them along with false hope?

“IS ANYONE HERE? HELLO??”

Where even am I? It looks like… Oh. Alone in catacombs, yeah if there’s anywhere to be killed by a malicious shadowy entity it would be in catacombs. Are there going to be redeads here? If the rest of the monsters are anything to go off of it’s going to be much worse dealing with them now. They can’t handle sunlight though, can they?

Then that means the pile of rubble in the centre here should be the safest place for me to think through the best way to handle all of this. If the shadow really wants to get to me then of course that won’t stop it but I have to try something right? Is sitting on top of what looks like a grave a little disrespectful? Yes. Do I have many options at the minute? No.

“-Wait-!”

WHY IS THE GRAVE SLIDING OPEN - WHAT WAS THAT!? WHY DOES IT SOUND LIKE SOMEONE IS YELLING??

“What… happened? Where is this place?”

I think without a doubt the sound I’ve just made is the most blood-curdling scream I’ve ever let out and - WHY IS HE COVERING MY MOUTH!?

“I’m sorry I know you’re confus- ACK.”

Was biting him the right option? Probably not! But it’s the only thing I could think of to do seeing as well, I'm not exactly calm at this moment in time. Despite the fact that this man has known me for, what, the span of less than a minute, he seems to have at the very least noticed my panic. Backing off like you would with a scared animal - do I really look that petrified? It’s taking everything in me now to not give into my racing heart.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve overstepped your boundaries. But please can you not be so loud?”

“....”

“... yeah. Yeah I can be a bit quieter”

“So you uhhh-”

Where do I even start - this man just - He just crawled out of a grave. What do you even respond to that with???

“...You come round here often?”

[name]. [name] what the heck was that. That's how you flirt with someone at a bar not speak to a living corpse.

“No, I don’t really?”

“Yeah, I figured. I -”

“Are you alright?”

“Look I’m just a bit overwhelmed, I was separated from my group and dropped here then you- You crawled out of a grave and now I’m just?? I’m just stressed and this is only things that have happened today. Now I know that you’re probably more stressed for obvious reasons, but I’m just - I’m sorry for screaming.”

He took a step closer to me at that, not trying to be intimidating, but more cautious. Asking for permission to touch me with an invitingly open outstretched arm, one that seemed to promise some sort of salvation from all the stress I’ve been feeling. One that I was embarrassingly quick to accept. His touch - His hold, is so warm for someone who should really be so cold, there’s definite comfort in feeling his heart beating as well something that proves he’s alive. It didn’t last for long though, as he pulled himself away, reluctantly if I were being bold in how I was to describe it. His fingers lingered, resting on my arm in such a teasingly wanting way. He’s definitely a link thats for sure, that helps me to be more comfortable around him than I would have been with anyone else. He looks like he’s about to start crying.

I - oh god I’m the first person he’s seen since he came back to life.

“Are you alright link?”

Was that the wrong thing to say? He hasn’t introduced himself to me, I shouldn’t have said that. It seems like now it’s his turn to look confused - more so than he already was.

“you how do you know my name?”

“I just guessed, the group I was with before they - well they all looked similar and went by the same name ‘link’ so I just assumed it was the same with you. I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

“No it doesn’t.” Why is he reaching for my face? He’s got such a soft look on his face, do I remind him of someone? He’s been dead so it could be possible I guess, but it feels like there’s more to how he said it than just something that simple.

“Oh my dearest love...”

His hands are so soft… it’s hard not to just lean into his touch and stay there, but there are more important things to be dealing with right now. As much as I’d prefer to not have these questions answered.

“What do you mean by that link? I don’t - I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

He’s so warm, I hate the fact that he’s most likely going to stop holding me when he realises I’m not the person he’s really ever going to want in a relationship.

“You haven’t but, I can already tell that you’ll be my beloved soon enough.”

“I’m sorry? We’ve only just met how can you tell s- ACK”

This has to just be a link thing. What is it that makes them fall so quickly? But to hold someone so tightly when you've only just met them - when you’ve only just come back from death? That doesn’t seem like a healthy thing for him, not in the slightest.

Is my shoulder wet?

Why would it be wet - he was tearing up earlier and - no there it is he’s sniffling as if he’s trying his hardest not to cry. Even if he’s mildly delusional how cruel would you have to be to not help someone go through something as tough as this clearly is. It’s not hard to gently rub his back as he cries onto me, it’s not hard to hum to him as he clutches me like a lifeline, it’s not hard to be here for him when I have to do so little for him.

“Link? Would you like to talk about it? I don’t know you but - but I’ll be here to listen to you.”

“Thank you. It’s simply that I - I don’t know why or how I got here, It’s simply that I woke up in there after everything then I saw you -”

“[name]”

“[name] and well you know what has happened since. I have to thank you for being here though, there’s something about you, some kind of energy that just feels like a part of myself that I lost. You feel like home to me [name]”

With that last sentence, he burrows his head even further into my neck seeking what I can only guess is comfort. He’s probably just desperate for another person's touch right now, rather than him having fallen in love with me from the briefest interaction that didn’t even go that well. There’s no harm in waiting here with him for a moment though. What could go wrong in this amount of time?

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #link x reader #lu first x reader #lu first #lu x reader #moss✦writes

317 notes · View notes

moonrisecoeur · 1 month

Note

heheheheheh re6 vampirehunter!leon meeting vampire!user and he’s like so cocky and arrogant only to be absolutely ruined and submissive to vampire!user i’m giggling n twirling my hair

omg anon sorry this took so long to answer i had to wait until my brain was working again but like. wow. love this concept!! i feel like i might have seen this before i think it might have been a cai bot??? not sure but whatever the case u are so big brain

i lowkey kinda hate this but i hope u don't lol

his whole life he's been taught to kill a vampire on sight, no exceptions. they kill innocent people!! and steal their blood!! so obviously being the selfless hero that leon is, he takes up the role as a vampy hunter and tries to keep his village safe. he's killed dozens of vampires in his life, keeping his family and friends safe. he doesn't care that it's a risky profession. he has people to protect.

but when he hears rumors of a vampire living on the outskirts of town, in an abandoned building that no one dared to enter, he knew it was his job to take care of this vampire.

and yet he goes to find them and they are just absolutely not what he expected. most vampires try to be all sultry and seductive to distract him, or some become violent right away. but this one, you, just spoke to him like a regular person.

"stay where you are," he says, his silver dipped knife to your throat.

'come now, human boy. let's not good too ahead of ourselves' the last one had said to him. they taunted him, tried to seduce him.

"i don't understand why you are after me. i haven't killed a human in... hundreds of years," you say to him, letting him keep you in a vulnerable position. there's this air of arrogance to you that leon can't help but despise.

"you're a vampire."

"and yet, you humans only seem to come after me."

"i am not going to be swayed with words," he scowls, "you're a monster."

"then why haven't you killed me yet?" you tilt your head back to gaze at him, glaring to be more precise, but you weren't planning on him being so attractive. when did human men get so pretty?

he blinks, almost confused. he expected a bit more effort to get away, but it almost seemed like you knew he wouldn't.

and, for some reason he can't describe, he eventually releases you, and you immediately struggle for the knife, throwing it to the other side of the room, and within a millisecond he's underneath you, your glaring red eyes peering down at him. he's not showing it, but he's petrified.

"this is... much more comfortable," you chuckle.

"wait, shit, i'm sorry, please don't..." he stuttered. poor thing, he's actually scared.

your fangs are inches away from his neck and he seem to be begging with his eyes for you to please, oh god please have mercy on him. he looks so ripe for the taking, it would be so easy to pierce his skin with your fangs and just... just ruin him. leave his body a lifeless corpse... or potentially make him like you. that would be a perfect irony, wouldn't it? a vampire hunter being turned into a vampire? how tragic.

he can't help the sob that escapes him, "please, i- i don't want to die.." he cries.

and you know what? maybe he's doing it to get your guard down, feed your ego. i mean, he obviously knows yours is large. and yet... some part of you thinks it's not an act, that he's genuinely scared. but whatever the case, it does feed your ego.

"will you be good, human?"

he nods, desperately, afraid for his life. and when you get off of him, and offer him a hand to get back up, he doesn't know whether to be wary or grateful, or both.

your arrogance makes you... hard to get along with, but leon can tell you're much more powerful than any of the vampires he's killed in his entire life.

but he supposes you're not completely awful. you didn't kill him. you let him escape the first time, clutch his sliver knife to his chest as he ran out of your home. you eye him cautiously. something in you.... liked that human boy.

he returns again, this time to apologize. he felt the need to kill you because you were a vampire even though you weren't threatening anyone. you were oddly docile for such a scary, and insanely powerful vampire. you were truly nothing he'd seen before.

this time, though, he doesn't hold a knife to your neck, instead just nervously wandering around the place you have made your home. it's almost sad to him how lonely you must be.

in any case, even a human man trying to kill you counts as company, so you haven't been completely against his presence in your life.

plus, when you finally do end up seducing him, as he knew you would. he's incredibly pliable, somewhat nervous, and while obedience doesn't seem to come easy to him, you make it easy for him.

andddddd then u proceed to fuck his brains out until he can't do anything but lie there uselessly while you suck the blood out of his body but i digress.

you obvi try not to kill him when you take his blood but he's so yummy!! how could you not!! such a delicious little human.

#anon #resident evil #leon kennedy #sub leon kennedy #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy resident evil #sub leon kennedy smut

63 notes · View notes

pianocat939 · 1 year

Note

I need the rise!turtles who is like a slasher?? Like Tiffany Valentine and or Michael Myers!! You can also just ask me for more information or something

DISCLAIMER: I have only watched one Michael Myers movie so I will 100% get some things wrong.

Additionally, this is gonna be a little gift for my aros- this can be read both romantically and platonically.

Alright so I originally planned to do all 4 bros into a post, then 2 into two separate posts, to now all individual ones- my brain just can't handle it anymore- my attention span is just killing me.

Tw: murder, blood, details of the corpse, anxiety, degradation

Words: 1.3K

Phone Call of Stupidity

(Leo is Ghostface)

You stare out the window, observing the sky right after the sunset. It was dim, but still enough light for you to see well. You were achingly bored. Not knowing what to do to satiate your boredom.

You then hear your phone ring, the ringtone repeating like a merry-go-round. The caller's address is labelled your friend's name, so you quickly answer.

"Hello?" You inquire, wondering what they would want to chat about. You then hear some heavy breathing from the other line, almost sounding delighted. A deep chuckle comes from the caller, a voice seemingly masculine.

"Hey, Y/n~ Expected someone else to call, hm?" The person's voice is smooth yet venomous, like a poison one drinks, only to go dormant hours later. But that doesn't matter, the bewilderment and consternation of this enigmatic person spiked despair in your heart. How does he know your name? How come he acted like something bad happened to your friend?

You summon the courage to question, "What? What do you mean?" You stare outside, waiting for someone to jump in front of your window.

"What do I mean? Oh, well, maybe the fact I'm threatening you right this very moment." His tone suddenly grows harsh, a hint of irritation swimming through his words. You hear a small bang of metal, loud and clear in the background "Now if you disobey my commands or try to hang up, I will kill your friend."

You freeze, eyes widening. Surely this is a prank, right? He wouldn't possibly dare to kill your friend. But...What if he's serious? Maybe you shouldn't risk it. "W-What do you need me to do?" Your breaths turned shaky, terror clawing your body.

"Hm~ You're not so stupid after all. Now, I want you to delete all your contacts, and that includes deleting any social media." Your fingers quiver as you delete the applications and names of your phone. Just focus on completing tasks. Nothing else matters.

"Ok, I'm done." Your eyes dart around the room anxiously, the shadows seeming to grow closer every second. The room seems to be darker, and more petrifying as the moon rises; your feelings overwhelm your ability to think rationally. How much longer of this torture?

He coos before snarking a laugh, "Aww, is poor little you desperate to save their friend? How humiliating. Exposing your vulnerabilities right in front of a killer." He's a true psychopath, devoid of any empathy. You're a pitiful mouse trying to nibble on some food during the bitter winter, yet he, the cat, hunts you every moment of the day.

"What else?" You tried to mask what little dignity you have left, tone more assertive.

"I want you to grab either a blanket or a few large towels; lay them on the floor of your bedroom." You carefully step amongst the floor, fearful of producing even a single whisper. You pull a blanket down onto the floor, spreading it out evenly.

After hesitating for a small while, you timorously question, "Why do you need me to do this?"

There's a momentary pause before he seethes, "Don't ask stupid questions."

Then within mere seconds, you hear the front door being banged repeatedly, the pounding growing more aggressive with each hit. You freeze, standing still in terror. Did you enrage him? Will you cease to see out the window again? But as soon as it started, the slamming halts in a blink of an eye.

Disoriented, you agonizingly inch over to the door, poking your head out the sliver of space. You flip your head around in multiple directions, observing the area for intruders or threats. No one. You walk out of your room, daring to risk being killed.

You cautiously peer through rooms, feeling at ease when no one seems to have intruded on your abode. But of course, that doesn’t mean they can’t be outside. So you head back towards your bedroom, eager to hide in your safe space.

“Hey, I’ve finally arrived.” An arm is wrapped around your neck, a hand weighing down on your shoulder. A blade points to your mid-back, and the pressure of the sharpened metal feels through your clothing. No, no, why was he here? Why is this psychopath inside your home? What happened to your friend?

You’re unable to form any words, lips quivering in dread. He laughs, clearly awfully amused by your horror. “So scared, poor little you, trembling, wondering if you’ll survive my knife.” His comment flashes a hot boil within your body, irking you. As much as you're frozen with fear, he is in no place to be making fun of you. Despite knowing your situation, you can't help but want to take a chance and try to escape.

Since you can't move your upper body, you fling your leg backwards, kicking him in the shin with your heel. But to your dismay, it only causes him to bend his knee; his arms are still strong. "Wow, you're bold: trying to save yourself at the hands of a killer who inevitably has you doomed." He chuckles a little, before hissing in pain, signalling your attack did some damage.

"I can't let myself die so easily, that would be disgraceful."

It's true. You can't be killed now, not without knowing where your friend is and how they are. You can't be a weakling, even if you're about to collapse from anxiety. You have to fight back, you never know the small chance of a miracle.

"Disgraceful? Let me guess, you want to know what happened to your friend." His tone is playful, yet your intuition tells you that there's a dark double meaning under it. No matter, you need to dig out the information.

"Yeah. Are you willing to tell me?"

"Tell you? Why, I'll show you." He lifts the knife slightly; still a threat, but enough to give you some room. He drags you with him, stepping into the bedroom with his back turned to the doorway as he opens it. As you enter the space, you're hit with a strikingly strong scent: the odour of iron, metallic perhaps unpleasant to many. Blood. The smell of blood is near.

"When I turn us around, don't try to escape alright? I have the knife, along with the experience of the killing of tens, if not hundreds, before you." He rotates your bodies, revealing a sight you wish to never witness.

A body lays on the blanket you put out on the floor earlier: multiple stab wounds lace throughout the back, a ruby liquid soaking the person's clothing. There are tears all over where the knife pierced their skin. Their fingernails and hands are caked in a similar vermillion liquid, an effect of holding the wound when they died. The corpse lays in a position where you can't identify the face. But you know. You know exactly who the victim is. It's your beloved friend.

In shock, a single tear rolls down your cheek, uncomfortably running down your chin. "No...I- I- you said if I helped you, you wouldn't kill them!" You can't bring yourself to do anything but stand there and stare at the body, you can't face death in an aware fashion.

"No, I was threatening to kill your friend if you didn't follow my orders. I never said I wouldn't kill them; you just managed to stall time before I did." What wrong did you do to receive such terrible, terrible fortunes? No one should ever see their friend's murdered corpse right in front of them, especially if the killer is in the same room.

"Little mouse, little mouse, can't you see what wrong you've done to yourself? Spending time with that vermin when you should have been with me." He steps beside you, turning his masked face. The mask is similar to that of a famous painting of a young man screaming in terror. Do you know this man? Surely not, but you can't tell, not with that masked face of his.

"What do you mean?" Why is he speaking as if he knows you? That the reason he killed was out of envy?

He laughs manically, sounds resonating off the walls. "I mean that, if I were a human, you would spend time with me more. I would be your best friend, not them." He clutches his knife, expressing his fury and jealousy. At first, you assumed he killed for comical reasons, but now that you hear him speak, he's for sure doing it out of rage. Not human...It possibly couldn't be him, right?

"Leo...?"

"As of now I am Ghostface, but yes, I am Leo." He lifts his mask, and your eyes widen at the sight of red crescents.

What a stupid little mouse you were, deciding to scout for some food, only to be lured right into the cat's claws.

——————————————————

I can't even explain the struggle of trying to write this. I literally don't know shit about Slashers except for a select few-

Anyway, as I said, this went from being all 4 into a post to 2 for two separate posts, to now individual ones. I apologize for this inconvenience but I don't want to stagger a request any longer.

Next is Mikey btw-

- Celina

#yandere #yandere x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 #yandere tmnt #yandere rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #leo #rise leo #leo x reader #slashers #ghost face #scream movie

169 notes · View notes

topazy · 8 months

Text

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 5.02

The last twenty-four hours have been hard. Your group was low on ammo, food, and water, and everyone was exhausted. Everyone was on guard for any survivors from Terminus. Glenn told you how messed up the stuff they saw inside when they were taken was. A butchery full of human corpses and a room full of the belongings of the things they stole from the people they killed. It was extremely messed up.

While trekking through the woods, careful not to make too much noise, you hear a man scream for help in the distance. You all freeze until Carl urges his dad to follow him and help. Cautiously, you follow behind, wanting to be extra careful since you were holding Judith.

You find a man clinging to a rock surrounded by walkers. Carl shoots the one, grabbing the man’s foot in the head, while Carol, Daryl, and Rick bash the other walkers' heads in.

You look up at the man who’s shaking in fear; on closer inspection, you can see he’s a priest. You call up to him, “It’s safe to come down.”

Slowly, he brings himself to the edge of the rock and slides down. He still looks petrified as he takes in the appearance of your group. His eyes land on all the blood, and seconds later he’s vomiting, “Sorry, and thank you. I’m Gabriel.”

“Do you have any weapons on you?” Rick asks.

Gabriel chuckles nervously. “Do I look like I have any weapons?”

“We don’t give two short and curly what it looks like,” Abraham says sternly.

“I have no weapons of any kind. The word of God is the only protection I need. I called for help, and help came.”

You hold Judith closer to you as she starts to fuss. “Shh, it’s okay.”

After a brief conversation between Rick and Gabriel, which mainly consisted of Rick informing the priest, he revealed that he had a church, which meant you’d have shelter for the night.

He leads you to a white church built further into the woods. As you check the premonitory outside with Carl, you begin to wonder what the catch was. “I wonder what happened to his flock?”

“What do you mean?”

“My daddy used to take me to church, and priests and flocks are usually tight-nit. I find it hard to believe he’s had this church himself the whole time, and none of his people came to her for sanctuary.”

Carl stops walking and leans his fingers over to touch the wooden panel on the outside of the church. “You see this, claw marks?”

“Walkers?”

“I don’t think so; it’s too deep. It looks like someone clawed at it with their fingernails and knives.”

You spot something almost completely hidden by overgrown plants that makes you let out a small gasp, unintentionally grabbing Carl's arm. “Oh my god, are you seeing this?”

Someone had carved ‘You’ll burn for this’ on the outside of the church. Father Gabriel wasn’t as innocent as he seemed.

—

After Rick, along with others from your group, went to an overrun store and took out the walkers plaguing it, they were able to stock up on trolley loads of food, along with other supplies. With a small kitchen based in the church, you, Maggie, and Carol were able to make a pretty good feast from the selection of pasta and tin foods brought back.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Abraham says, gaining everyone’s attention. “I look around this room... and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title. To the survivors.”

“Survivors!”

“Cheers!”

“Is that all you want to be? Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse, and repeat? You can do that. I mean, you have the strength. You have the skill. The thing is, for you people, for what you can do, that’s just surrender. Now, we get Eugene to Washington, and he will make the dead die and the living will have the world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip.”

You had a feeling Abraham’s speech was aimed more at Rick than anybody else.

“Eugene, what’s in DC?”

Eugene gulps down, “Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this magnitude. That means food, fuel, and refuge. Restart.”

Abraham smiles at him and says, “However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you’ve been since the whole thing started. Come with us. Save the world for the little ones. Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there who have nothing left to do but survive.”

The room is silent as everyone contemplates the redhead's words until Judith makes a loud noise. “What was that?” Rick asks his daughter playfully, “I think she knows what I’m about to say. She’s in. If she’s in, I’m in. We’re in.”

The room fills with laughter and cheers, but you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Like you’re being watched. Maggie sits down beside you and says, “Hey, did you know Tara was at the prison?”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“How do you feel about it?”

You shrug. “She didn’t know who the governor was, plus Tara and Glenn saved me, so she’s with us now.” Maggie hugs you, but thinking about what happened to your father at the prison makes you emotional. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Not wanting to seem weak and shed tears in front of the rest of your group, you head into the kitchen and begin washing dishes. You enjoy the solitude and focus on nothing except cleaning.

“Hey, you okay?” Carl asks, placing his hand on your back.

“Yeah,” hearing your own voice, breaks your eyes well up. “I’m fine, just tired.”

Carl pulls you in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your back. He holds you tightly and says, “We’re going to be okay.”

#the walking dead #carl grimes x reader #Carl Grimes x you #teen spirit #carl grimes/reader #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fandom

80 notes · View notes

legendary-guest · 1 month

Text

My secret crack pairing is Motor Ed/DNAmy.

Amy already has great taste in men, there's nothing that needs to be altered on her end to get her to find him attractive. Well, what about Ed?

It's her chassis. It's huge. Her assets. You know. She's so forward, too, it really doesn't take a lot from him to get her to go along with things.

I imagine a first encounter would induce such extreme second-hand embarrassment to anyone who happens to be around them. Here is one version.

Who approaches whom - Ed. He's busy 'window shopping' in that café in Graduation, since he attended the ceremony. He needs a pick-me-up after seeing Green and cousin Drew practically hook-up on stage. Yeah, yeah, more fish in the sea but, ugh, where's he gonna find another babe like that? She fought him with that green magic and had long, beautiful black hair and her bo - Whoa.

He spots her.

Seriously. She's not a 10, but she's enough - actually, more than enough - a rejection is unlikely. He's played this game before.

One of two things could happen - she reciprocates his advances, or she turns him down. Turning him down would mean that Motor Ed would, potentially, have to compete for her attentions with the petrified corpse of a genetically altered British man obsessed with monkeys. This is insanely funny, and would be awesome. The girl he really wants is with his cousin with a receding hairline, and being rejected by a woman he is settling for could hurt his ego enough, incense him enough to really, truly pursue her. Besides, what does that - what - thing have that he doesn't? He's tall, he's tan, he's smart, he's handsome, he has an awesome mullet. What, she likes hairy guys? He's a hairy guy! Just take a look, seriously.

Option two is she reciprocates. Now, she may be committed to pursuing Monty, committed to him emotionally, but now that she's got him...what's one more? After all, after she completed her collection of Cuddle Buddies, she felt the need to make her own! She openly flirts with Mr. Barkin and even lead on Dr. Drakken. There's no way this woman doesn't go astray every now and again (frequently). He's cute, sure, but is he smart? O, he's a mechanical engineer - maybe she has heard of him - best in the country! She's a geneticist, she says, which leads into Ed using a rather awful pick-up line about not having taken biology in forever and needing a tutor.

O, doctor, it would be my pleasure. Ending the sentence with a girlish giggle and a punch to his arm. The punch doesn't hurt, but she's got some strength to her! He makes a comment about how he likes a girl that can scrap - then she really comes on to him, hand on his chest, eyes half-lidded. She tells him, in as many words, she can be real bad if that's what he really likes.

Ed likes where this is going. Really, really likes where this is going. Seriously.

It's clear that this conversation needs a change of scenery. Before they run off, she mentions that they can't leave behind Monty. Who? O, this thing. He decides to show off, picks up Monkey Fist's statue in one easy gesture it's built weird, he thinks, and sure, it's on the heavier side of things he can lift for extended periods of time, but he's got that adrenaline in him right now and she's looking up at him in awe, in surprise, and then...well, they gotta get going!

#motor ed #dnamy #amy hall #kp villains #kim possible #DNed #I had this under a read more then thought #No #This is my blog #You will be subjected to my posts if you follow #They are funny and cute to me

14 notes · View notes

whumpshaped · 5 months

Text

tw bad caretaker, caretaker disregarding whumpee’s trauma, unintentional gaslighting, lady whumper

“Caretaker. Caretaker, we have to go. Right now.”

Caretaker frowned a little, looking around the street to see what Whumpee was suddenly so afraid of. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary: there were a few people with grocery bags, a couple partygoers… “Huh?”

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” he went on, voice shaky and quiet. “You know the, the incident I don’t like to talk about? The big one? You know how the person who did it is still on the loose?”

Caretaker caught on, and they were immediately on high alert. They didn’t know the details, but they knew Whumpee had been kidnapped, possibly even tortured before he managed to escape on his own. “Who is it?” they whispered.

“The woman in the red shirt.” Caretaker followed their friend’s petrified gaze to see… someone with a white cane, trying her best to navigate the city at night. “I know, I know what you’re thinking, I know, okay? But we need to leave. Right now. Please.”

“Whumpee, that can’t possibly–”

The stranger took a turn and started walking in their direction, and Whumpee grabbed them by the wrist, trying to drag them away. “I’ll explain when we’re home!” he hissed. “Or not! I just need you to trust me, just this once, even if you never trust me again–”

“Hello?” came an uncertain voice, and Caretaker couldn’t help it when they dug their heel in and stopped Whumpee from whisking them away.

“I’m sorry,” they said quietly before turning back around, offering the stranger a smile out of habit. There was no way they were leaving her to struggle on her own. “Yeah? Can I help you?” Whumpee’s grip on their wrist tightened painfully, and they stifled a displeased little whimper.

“Yeah, I think I’m a little lost,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere…”

Within moments, Caretaker found out that they were all going in the same direction. Whumpee was rigid as a corpse next to them, refusing to say a single word. Caretaker felt sorry for him, truly, but the resemblance this person might’ve borne to his attacker was not reason enough to lie or walk away without helping.

“We can walk you there,” Caretaker offered, and the stranger smiled.

“Thanks, that’d be lovely. Walking around alone after dark always makes me a little uneasy.”

#asks #whump #whump drabble #disabled whumper #bad caretaker #gaslighting #lady whumper #past trauma

25 notes · View notes

moominofthevalley · 5 months

Text

Turpentine

While snowed in together, Trystan asks the Ginovesi crew a morbid question.

Characters: Trystan Thorne, Emily Rose, Ruby Webster, Luke Watanabe

WC: 2.1k

R: Teen | CW: Talks of death & Spoilers for 2.15

CFWC Prompt: Stuck in a snowstorm

Glistening fairy lights cornered all four walls of Luke and Ruby’s apartment, the yellow bulbs warming their hearth. A tree dusted with faux snow and wrapped with pink garlands sat by the TV, brimming with gifts underneath. Honeysuckle wine and a charcuterie board made by Emily were set on the table, crackers and prosciutto splattered across. The surly detective giggled, crossing her arms at Trystan’s creation.

“You are such a showoff.”

Trystan laughed at her remark as he set the main course on the dinner table. Husks of steam slipped out of the honey-glazed duck, leaving their mouths watering. Roasted pears and plump blood sausages sat beside it, the heavenly aroma wafting around the air.

“You know I live to boast, darling.”

“I think my dish is way better,” Luke beamed, setting his strawberry spongecake beside the duck. Ruby giggled, laying a batch of cookies on the table.

“It certainly looks amazing,” Ruby said, “I can’t wait to try it, honey.”

“Ah, yes, but did you spend two days making it?” Trystan teased, pouring himself a glass of wine — a floral zest with a crisp aftertaste, exquisitely sweet and spirited. Emily elbowed him, playfully furrowing her brows.

“Anyways,” Ruby cleared her throat, “I’m so glad we’re finally home.”

“Agreed,” Luke plopped a grape into his mouth, “I don’t think I can ever handle being in a room with every Thorne again.”

Emily and Trystan shared an uneasy glance, silently unveiling mutual sorrow. Months have passed since their ungodly case in Trystan’s homeland, though the time spent there forever stained them. Emily’s mouth ran dry as Sebastyan’s and Vasili’s corpses rushed through her mind. The dagger tight in Vasili’s chest, the petrified eyes of Sebastyan as he died at the hands of another Thorne. Two ghosts clinging on their shoulders.

“It’s hard to believe our little stint in Drakovia is over,” Emily shook her head, “I wonder what our next big case is gonna be.”

“No more cheating husband cases for you?” Ruby asked, her brow cocked amusingly. Emily grinned with a mischievous shrug.

“As tempting as that sounds, I might need bigger fish to go after.” Trystan chuckled, splaying his hand on top of Emily’s.

“Drakovia has spoiled her. Good luck getting her to take the common cases again.”

“Do you think you’d ever look into…your dad’s murder?” Luke asked, almost nonchalantly. Ruby sent him a warning glance, lightly bumping his feet underneath the table. Trystan’s hands curled into Emily’s, solace in his eyes.

Emily gulped. Each time she debated looking into Jimmy’s death, there were far too many holes, far too many questions, and not enough evidence for her liking. Distant memories of bickering with Uncle Tommy and Trystan struck her, and she cringed at how horrible she became. Desperately hungry to solve the only question she had left. She refused to let her and Trystan turn into a pair of tectonic plates – subtly rubbing against each other, then drifting away forever. To not catch the death of a relationship until it’s already rotting, staining every moment with resentment and twisted words. Even the slightest possibility of another heartbreak sent her spiraling downwards.

“I’ve…thought about it,” she frowned, “One day, though.”

“One day.”

The heavy moment passed, and the Ginovesi crew - bar Mafalda - began their feast. They all vehemently agreed, to Luke’s dismay, that Trystan’s duck was the clear winner. Luke’s shortcake was no match for the savory and crisp flavors of the traditional Drakovian dinner. Though his cake appeared light and fluffy, it was overly dense and oddly sour. Ruby’s cookies and Emily’s board tied for second place, both sweet and made with love. A blend of cookies framed like snowflakes, snowmen, Snoopy in Santa hats, and candy canes bunched together on a plate. The charcuterie board was a splendid still life, adorning moon drop grapes, saltine crackers, and sprigs of rosemary. Plates were stuffed and spirited laughs rang across the warmly-lit home.

“Good God!” Emily groaned, swallowing a bitter slice of Luke’s cake, “What the fuck did you put in this?”

Luke’s eyes widened, “Do you not like strawberries?”

“Try it yourself! I don’t even…” Emily spat out the remaining bits, nearly gagging.

Reluctantly, Luke cut himself a small serving. Trystan and Ruby cackled as his face turned red, spitting the remains onto a napkin.

“Jesus!” Luke shivered, “Okay–I think I know what happened.”

“What did you do?!”

“...I may have used salt instead of sugar.”

“Oh my God!” Trystan laughed, slapping his knee, “You are a horrible baker!”

“It-it’s not my fault!” Luke said sheepishly, throwing his hands in the air. Ruby snickered, patting his shoulder.

“Babe. You literally made the cake.”

Rounds of laughs echoed through the kitchen, contentment and joy present on the soft New York night. Blissful moments fell around them as heaps of snow tumbled down like raindrops, piling up minute by minute.

* * * *

Standing by the window sill, Emily’s eyes tracked the ebb and flow of snowfall. Faint Christmas tunes slipped through the window crack, presumably from the neighbor. She hummed delightedly, eyes shut at the still moment. Moonlight burst into the room, dimly lit and warm despite the glowing chill from the glass before her. The swell of nearby trumpets and saxophones and Earthly beauty brought her to ease.

“Don’t tell the others, Detective, but your charcuterie board was my favorite,” Trystan grinned, sitting beside her.

“Oh really?” Emily smirked, “Are you sure you’re not being biased?”

“Hm,” Trystan gave her a so-so gesture, “Definitely not.”

Cupping both sides of her face, Trystan’s pupils widened fondly. Emily turned slightly, kissing his palm.

“Your hands still smell like garlic!”

Trystan chuckled, sniffing his hand. Sure enough, the pungent odor attacked his nose. He shrugged it off, focused on the gruff detective.

“I love you, my little moon!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know! You’re a bit…glum. And very short.”

“I am 5’3, you tall shit!” Emily swatted his arm, “I would call you my ‘sun,’ but you’re more like a little dog.”

“What? How?”

“You follow me around all day. And listen to my orders – for the most part.”

“Not to ruin the moment,” Luke announced as he pointed to his phone, “There’s a snow squall warning. It’ll clear up tomorrow morning, but you guys will have to stay the night.”

“How fun!” Ruby squealed, “It’ll be like a sleepover! I’ll go get blankets so you two can sleep on the couch.”

She disappeared into the hallway closet, hunting for the thickest blankets and pillows possible. Luke cocked an eyebrow, unamused as Trystan and Emily sat on the couch across from him.

“So when you said you loved Ruby’s cookies you were lying?” He asked Trystan, crossing his arms in faux-anger. Trystan chuckled, unashamed.

“I did love Ruby’s cookies – they were phenomenal. Much better than your shortcake anyway,” He teased, “Emily’s just happened to be my favorite.”

“You two are such children,” Emily said, snorting. “I–”

Darkness surrounded them. The only light left was the waning candlelight on the kitchen table. Gusts of wind flickered from the cracked window, a biting chill creeping up on their skin. Concerned, Ruby poked her head out of the closet.

“Hot-diggity-daffodil!” Luke proclaimed, “I guess the power’s out, too.”

“We can see that, Luke.” Ruby returned with a bundle of blankets. The crew settled in the living room, the window now shut, bottles of wine and lively candles by the coffee table. An easy silence shrouded the room, with only the croaking rats in the walls and the crackling candles to distract them. They all sipped the remains of the honeysuckle wine, sweetness trickling down their throats like candle wax melting onto the table.

“I have an idea,” Trystan cleared his throat, “It is a bit morbid, though.”

“What is it?” Ruby asked, curious.

“In Drakovia, we go around in circles asking certain…questions. Usually around New Year’s, but we’re in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s not like we have much else to do.”

“What type of questions?”

Trystan sat still, contemplating. An eerieness in his eyes, a peculiar tenacity about him. He flinched at the briefest second, then shrugged.

“If you were dying, how would you like to pass away? What would you like to have with you?”

Quietness surrounded them once more, their breaths slightly more tense and strained. Emily sat closer to Trystan instinctively, craning her head against his shoulder. The candles continued to wail, as Ruby cleared her throat with somberness in her eyes.

“I think…if we ever got one,” She glanced at Luke, “I’d like to have a little cat in my lap. And Luke to hold my hand. And maybe a cup of tea, but only in that calico-printed mug you got me for our anniversary.”

Luke wiped feeble tears from Ruby’s cheek, a rare solemness on his face. He grinned weakly, pressing a kiss on the side of her face. Ruby’s heart swayed in the lull air, her hand tight in his.

“I need Ruby next to me, laying by me. And I want it all to be quiet,” Luke murmured, “I don’t want to be able to hear anything. But I want there to be a window. So I can look up at the sky one more time. I don’t care if it’s day or night…that’s all I want.”

Silence lay steadily upon them, the croaking rats having vanished. The candles remained lit, embers mute and growing frail. Warmth bloomed between them, huddling closer together. The moon climbed further into the night sky, its silvery rays illuminating the apartment. Trystan fiddled with his fingers, as Emily’s hands rubbed circles around his legs. It was like muscle memory. Rituals and silly minuscule traditions became more familiar to the two of them with each passing month. Chopping garlic cloves, peeling oranges, collecting ugly trinkets.

“I’d want someone to play old Drakovian music…the songs my father showed me as a kid. And,” Trystan grinned at Emily, a smile so unabashedly bold and bare it nearly brought her to tears, “I want you to kiss my forehead. And rub my feet.”

Emily pecked the top of his head, her eyes burning as Diana’s kind words echoed in her mind. Trystan wiped away her tears, tenderness with every touch.

She was familiar with death. A one-sided friendship, a shadow lurking behind her with every step she took. It offered no hope and no excuses. The only things bereavement brought were ghostly memories and pearls from the past rolling in her hand, daring to be dropped. Her fingers trembled, her mouth dry as she urged herself to go on.

“I don’t want it to hurt,” Emily said finally, slightly panting, “Every single one of them died in pain. And alone. Sonja. Bethany. Nadja. Sebastyan. I don’t want it to be like that. I want to be ready. And...Trystan next to me.”

They all leaned against each other. The candles shined well into the night, fickle and bright. Empty wine bottles scented the room, warm and heady. Emily shut her eyes, picturing herself as a sleeping child being carried to bed after a long drive home. Laughter through the walls, the ticking of a nearby clock, soft jazz slipping through the window, a kiss on her cheek. Perhaps it’d be good to her. Just a brief second and all that’d remain was a tombstone with her name.

Emily unveiled her vision, the rest of her friends in tears. Trystan stroked her hair gently, still smiling. It was simple. It was clear.

“All we want is everything we have,” He said, their faces inches apart, “And I’m the richest man in the world.”

* * * *

Ruby and Luke shut their bedroom door, Emily and Trystan now alone on the couch. With her legs in his lap, he rested a hand on her thigh, tracing lazy circles. The candles had long died out, leaving only moonbeams and constellations to light up the room.

“Em?” Trystan whispered as Emily moved over to lie on his chest. She gazed into his argent eyes, exasperation clear on his face.

“Mhm?”

“Do you remember when I refused to go on that plane? All those months ago.” Emily snorted quietly, Trystan gliding his hands along her back.

“Of course I do. I knew you weren’t going to.”

“Do you remember what you said to me after that?”

“Mhm. I told you there’s a reason partners and romance don’t mix well. That it’s trouble waiting to happen.”

“And then I told you that I just so happen to like trouble.”

They smirked, noses crinkled and eyes bagged. Trystan cupped Emily’s chin, palms still smeared with the scent of garlic.

“I’m glad we’re partners.”

“I am too.”

* * * * A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! Thank you for reading this – I came up with this idea FOREVER AGO but was never able to execute it until now. I’ve always loved the idea of thinking of death, not as something to fear (though I still struggle with that), but rather as something that is just a little moment. That’s painful, and maybe not necessarily beautiful, but something that just happens organically. Like that one poem that’s like “I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom as a child.” I actually wrote a poem about that, if anyone would be interested in me posting it. Anyway – thank you again for reading!

Click here for a list of all my works so far!

Tags: @choicesholidays @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @mooserii @stars-are-within-me @shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @calisomnia @kyra75 @icarusfallsforever @inlocusmads (let me know if anyone else would like to be added to my crimes tag!)

24 notes · View notes

katyspersonal · 7 months

Note

Hey I explored Yahar’gul the other day and I got reminded of smt and idk if we talk about it before.

But it’s about the kids.

Well lil reminder for people. We know some of the corpses in the chairs of Yahar’gul and the nightmare of Mensis are too small to be foreigners. So euh why do you think they were kids around Mensis & Micolash?

(like the kid here sorry I can't find better pic for now)

I got severals ideas. To put it simply, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mensis took under their wings the kids of Yhahar’gul or even some orphans of Yharnam (that nobody wanted or care) or more simply the children of members from Mensis and indoctrinated the poor lads into their cult as well. (Yes I can picture Mico giving math classes to little kids now, help).

Don't you worry, /I/ have a better picture >:3

+ The interesting detail about it is that little corpses, presumed children, do not have shackles unlike the adult ones:

Hypogean Gaol literally means 'underground jail' and well, there are jailcells, so maybe these people were literal prisoners! Not to mention the vehicles you find deeper in Yahar'gul being for transporting prisoners!

If you remember, my theory was that Choir used children (orphaned children, specifically!) because they have had a higher chance of being heard by the Great Ones, as well as perceiving them on their own because Great Ones wanted to adopt children, unable to have their own. (According to Miyazaki himself, the general idea is that the more developed species always have less children, so maybe the most developed species could not have any at all, as immortal and perfect beings!) School of Mensis might have had the similar motivation for involving children in it - they would have had a better "connection" with Great Ones, and perhaps attract Great Ones to descend better! Maybe those Amygdalas played with them and let them ride their backs all the time xDDD Lack of shackles on the children does make me think that they were willing, whether it is because Micolash can talk to children (whereas adults will recognize his "bad vibes" fsdhfsd), because they were roped from such a young age they don't know any better or both. Maybe he promised them all a new mom.

Micolash does have shackles himself, though, which is extra interesting because like,... did he need them? My only guess was that he had to restrict himself, expecting pain or instinctive urge to run away. Maybe he was much more scared than we think, which I doubt because the cage is suppressing such urges, so I bet on expected torment. So, again, likely that children had it easier as Great Ones favour them!

^^^ But also, not all children were involved, apparently? The crowds of petrified people in Yahar'gul do have some little boys! I have roughly three ideas:

1) These children were of other kidnapped people, so, not orphaned! Thus, not really fitting the right emotion of loneliness and yearning for a parent that resonates with the Great Ones.

2) It is possible that School of Mensis separated from the Choir, since Damian and Micolash are using Choir tools. They might have also taken many orphans from their Orphanage with them, so they were already subjected to be the "secret thinkers"! (Also imagine every other time some kid gets orphaned, Choir and Mensis having a goddamn competition to snatch them xD)

3) Micolash only really picked children that have shown the "potential". Not everyone will be perceptive of 'smart' ideas about higher plane, ascension etc; even among children some people just do not trust such things or not understand them!

Maybe it is a combination of all three, but I am leaning towards number 1! I do think that the factor of despair was important for people that School of Mensis used. So, prisoners already had their willpower broken, and orphaned children were desperate and lonely. Again - Yahar'gul definitely had a little too many people kidnapped, many are just stuck there petrified without being used in a ritual or having cages. Perhaps Yahar'gul's kidnapped basically everyone, and then Micolash was picking out those he seemed fit for "further use", or "worthy of ascension" rather than leaving them be just a cattle. But of course the other kidnapped people could not just go home, since they've seen too much now.

Not gonna lie, I feel a pit in my stomach after writing this one for some reason. Yeah, my conclusion is a combination of children (especially orphaned) having the best connection with the Great Ones and Micolash cherry-picking the 'intelligent', 'worthy' people. I suspect that not all prisoners were picked, either. I also headcanon Gehrman and Rom as having been orphans, so when it is not one thing (age) it is the other (deeply rooted loneliness since childhood). I just.. well, it is kinda disturbing, isn't it

#bloodborne #micolash host of the nightmare #bloodborne theory #bloodborne headcanons #bloodborne observation #ask replies

32 notes · View notes

admirableadmiranda · 2 years

Note

Possibly an unpopular opinion.. but wwx was not a father figure for A-Yuan during their time in the burial mounds. He was more like a cool, but crazy uncle imo 🤣

Everyone be like, wwx did a good job... It was lwj who raised him 🤔 I mean, don't get me wrong.. our boy Wei did saved him twice and is so happy to have him in his life again. But lwj deserve most of the credit ✌️

Anon, I'm afraid I will have to disagree here and say that I don't agree with this take. If you are ascribing parental figures to one of them, then they both should get the credit, it’s not Wei Wuxian’s fault he was killed after only a year. I’m sure if you ask any number of people who have lost a parent young but they remember their parent being a parent while they were alive, that’s still the feeling they have now.

Yeah, Wei Wuxian plays with him a lot and teases him. That's not necessarily behavior that's only relegated to uncles. Not only does that sound pretty similar to Lan-furen playing with little Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji, but it also sounds like my dad, who definitely was a parent, just one that did his guidance through much more play related activities. There is more than one way to be a caring, good parent.

Also that being said, there are plenty of interactions and character moments that feel very parental in nature. Here he is scolding A-Yuan for eating corpse dirt:

Wei WuXian bent down and picked up the child, letting him sit on his arm, “What do you mean get him away? Can’t you talk properly? A-Yuan, why do you hug the leg of everyone you meet? Off you go! Don’t bite your nails right after you play with mud. Do you know what the mud is made of? Move your hand! Don’t touch my face either. Where’s Granny?”Wei WuXian bent down and picked up the child, letting him sit on his arm, “What do you mean get him away? Can’t you talk properly? A-Yuan, why do you hug the leg of everyone you meet? Off you go! Don’t bite your nails right after you play with mud. Do you know what the mud is made of? Move your hand! Don’t touch my face either. Where’s Granny?”

Here they are with some soup, and I double checked, Wei Wuxian is teasing A-Yuan and saying he's being a good son here. Filial piety is specifically the respect from a child to a parent or ancestor.

Wen Yuan couldn’t stop after just a few mouthfuls, yet he still knew to give the bowl to Wei WuXian, speaking as though he was presenting him with a treasure, “… Brother Xian… Xian eat.”

Wei WuXian seemed to like it a lot, “Yes, very good. So you do know what filial piety means.”

As well as A-Yuan seems to think of Wei Wuxian as a father secretly. A-Yuan gets lost in the market and while looking for Wei Wuxian, discovers and gets scared by Lan Wangji.

In the beginning, Wen Yuan was still holding onto his leg. Wei WuXian walked back and forth, picking out potatoes and bargaining. Hanging on his leg, Wen Yuan felt tired just a while later. His short arms were sore, so he let go to rest for a bit. Yet, in just a few moments, the rush of the people on the streets made him reel left and right, losing his sense of direction. His line of sight was quite low. He walked here and there, but couldn’t find Wei WuXian’s long legs and black boots. Everything in front of his eyes were pants so grimey that they were the color of dirt. He grew more and more petrified. As he spun around dizzily, he bumped into someone’s leg.

Hiding in the crowd as he heard the words ‘his dad’, Wei WuXian almost exploded with laughter. Lan WangJi immediately looked up, denying it, “I am not.”

Wen Yuan didn’t know what the people were talking about. When children were scared, they always called out to those they were close to. And so, sobbing, he called, “Dad! Dad…”

A-Yuan has not even officially met Lan Wangji yet. The narrative tells us he's scared and calling for those that they were close to. The only person who could hear him is Wei Wuxian. He calls him "A-die".

Wei Wuxian’s parenting is definitely a lot more unorthodox than most parenting we see, but let’s keep in mind that he is twenty-one at the most at the time. He is a very young man who is putting himself in the position of caring for a child in a hellistic time on earth. His main goal is to make sure that A-Yuan grows up feeling happy and cared for without ever worrying about their situation. He can’t erase all of it, but he can sure as hell make sure that A-Yuan never feels like everyone’s miserable. A-Yuan also seems to be the only child in the camps, who else does he have to play with?

The relationship between the three of them is interesting because there is no singular term that Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji use for Sizhui, nor does Sizhui quite define them in one particular relationship. He calls Wei Wuxian “Xian-gege” most of the time, but also “A-Die” once when he’s scared. He describes Lan Wangji as being like a “father and brother” to him. The two men clearly both take pride and interest in his upbringing and even take him out on special trips alone with just the two of them.

If you conclude that Lan Wangji feels more like a parent to Lan Sizhui, keep in mind that they both give Sizhui the same sense of safety. He connects the two with the same emotion.

Wei WuXian turned to him, “SiZhui, you’re the most sensible one here. Guide them a bit, won’t you? Can you do that?”

Lan SiZhui nodded. Wei WuXian added, “Don’t be scared.”

Lan SiZhui, “I am not.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Lan SiZhui smiled, “Senior, you are so much like HanGuang-Jun.”

Wei WuXian was puzzled, “Us? How are we alike?” They were obviously like fire and ice. However, Lan SiZhui only grinned in reply, and led the rest of the group out.

He continued his thought silently, I do not know, either, but they just feel similar. It is as though if either one of the two seniors are present, I will not need to be scared or worry about anything.

And both of Wangxian conclude that they are both responsible for how he turned out, as well as the same soft look in their eyes.

At least, Lan SiZhui couldn’t hold it any longer. With a loud cry, he leaped up. One hand around Wei WuXian and the other around Lan WangJi, he pulled the two into a tight embrace. Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi bumped into each other from the hug. Both of them were surprised.

Lan SiZhui buried his head between their shoulders, “HanGuang-Jun, Senior Wei, I… I…”

Hearing his muffled voice, Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi exchanged a look, only inches apart. They both saw something soft within each other’s eyes.

Wei WuXian fixed his mood and put his hand on Lan SiZhui’s back, patting, “Enough, what are you crying for?”

Lan SiZhui, “Not crying… Just… I suddenly feel so frustrated, but so happy as well… I do not know how to describe it…”

After some silence, Lan WangJi laid his hand onto his back as well and patted. Lan WangJi, “There is no need to describe it then.”

Wei WuXian, “That’s right.”

Lan SiZhui didn’t say anything. He hugged them even tighter.

Soon, Wei WuXian exclaimed, “Hey, hey, hey, why are your arms so strong? Definitely deserving of HanGuang-Jun’s teachings…”

Lan WangJi glanced at him, “You taught him as well.”

Wei WuXian, “No wonder he grew up so nicely.”

There is no single defined relationship, but it is clearly close, affectionate and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji definitely have a mentor/parental interest in his life and take a close hand in guiding him on the road to adulthood. However the thing that is clear is that Wangxian both share the same feelings and give Sizhui the same emotions. If one is an uncle, both are. If one is a parent, both are.

Also again, I think it’s super unfair to blame Wei Wuxian for not being involved in A-Yuan’s upbringing while he was dead, especially since every time Wei Wuxian thinks of Sizhui, Sizhui keeps making him proud and thinking of how good a child he is. Lan Wangji also clearly is raising Sizhui to be aware of Wei Wuxian as he was and to when he is ready, know the other family that he lost.

If Wangxian were together and Wei Wuxian still died young, would you say that Lan Wangji still deserves all the credit? It’s not like Wei Wuxian walked out or chose not to be involved. He died. Of course Lan Wangji has put in the more time, but that’s not something either of them ever wanted.

So yeah, it probably is kind of an unpopular opinion. And not one I particularly agree with either. Sorry!

#mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #a-yuan #lan sizhui #asks #anon #anon asks #I don't know I personally feel like the only parents who should have credit stripped are the ones who choose to leave and not be involved #not the ones who died young and all that we see before then shows that they were happily involved in the process #wei wuxian likes to tease and poke fun at the people he loves #the smol child who follows him around and clings to his leg is no different #but I see him very much as taking on that role to A-Yuan in story #even if he's young and not the most experienced at it #who started as a perfect parent from the beginning?#lan wangji still buried A-Yuan in rabbits as well

297 notes · View notes

ivesterrarium · 7 months

Text

Halloween TMR Headcanons!

*You can find my Christmas ones here

Newt is completely unfazed by horror movies. Human Centipede 2 + 3? Fine with that. Midsommar? Not a worry in the world. Tusk? He'd laugh at some of that.

*I must say, I have only watched Human Centipede 2 and Tusk out of this list. I plan to watch Midsommar though!

Minho on the other hand puffs out his chest, flexes his muscles a little bit (for Thomas to drool, as expected) and says how nothing can possibly spook him in the slightest.

... And then he screams, recoils and jumps at everything slightly creepy.

Thomas doesn't particularly like horror movies, but will enjoy a good Halloween movie. I'm talking ones like Beetlejuice, Corpse Bride, Coraline, The Nightmare Before Christmas, etc. Quite a few animated ones.

(With these 3 headcanons, can you imagine a movie night of the 3, with Newt sipping on his drink and Thomas cradling a petrified Minho in his arms?).

Minho, in a modern au, throws the best Halloween parties (idk, I've only ever seen proper ones in movies lol). Newt gets dragged along there from his disturbing movie marathon and Thomas tags along.

That being said, Thomas would totally not get the memo and come in a fully decked out costume, only to find out it's not a costume party (semi-inspired by Mean Girls, that one lol).

*by @tommyandnoot

In the Glade, the Gladers would always have their own Halloween. They wouldn't grow pumpkins in the fields (because who actually likes to eat pumpkin) so instead they would carve apples and turnips (which would piss Frypan off because they're wasting the food).

They'd have competitions of their carvings and get so competitive.

(This is where our conversation went a little astray and we started thinking about ALL the holidays lol - I'll probably make another post about the Gladers' celebrations, I'll hyperlink it here when I'm done).

*by @tommyandnoot

Chuck LOVES Halloween with a burning passion. Every year (in a modern au) he'd dress up in the funkiest outfit (you name it, from Scooby Doo to crayons).

Teresa and Sonya loves those Halloween socks (I'm mentioning these as I have recently fallen to the hands of capitalism and also want Halloween socks, lol).

Teresa would have all of hers neat and organized, preparing to wear them in October and only in October, while it'd be the middle of May and you'd see Sonya out in her patterned ghost socks.

Thanks for reading! Happy-almost-Halloween to those who celebrate it and a happy-almost-October-31st to those who don't.

#tmr #the maze runner #newt tmr #thomas tmr #minho tmr #newtmas #minewt #thominho #thominewt #chuck tmr #teresa tmr #sonya tmr #headcanon

36 notes · View notes

yanderelmk · 1 year

Text

Beauty and the Brute

A/N: Me when. I get one person telling me they want to see more content of something and I proceed to pop off. Anyways here u go my dear sweet internet person ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ You couldn't track the time here in Camel Ridge, or rather the memory of Camel Ridge. Ever since Azure trapped you here, the days and nights blended together. Sometimes you would be kept asleep until Azure himself entered the scroll with some new ploy to gain your favor. You were pacing your room, hand running through your hair as you once more tried to think of a way to escape. You weren't successful, but you felt your mood worsening and worsening. By the time the knock came at the door, your head was pounding. "Y/N? I have dinner ready. Come and dine with me." You felt your anger flare. You'd had enough of this, of being trapped here and having to listen to his goddamned voice lull you into a false sense of security. Emboldened by your anger you snap, "I'm not hungry. Go away." Instantly, that smooth voice turned to one of concern. "Did something happen while I was gone? Please, tell me what makes you so upset." "I think you'd know, Azure." This time Azure's voice loses its comforting tones. "Don't speak to me that way. It's your own fault you're in here. You sought to attract my attentions by flirting with my own sworn brothers, thus you were imprisoned here. I am trying to be courteous by allowing you to communicate with me so that we might turn your destructive habits to something more healthy. Please, join me for dinner. You will feel better after a good meal." You feel your anger exploding within you, but youstruggled not to blow up. Azure could easily kill you, and you know that. "I said I'm not hungry." You jumped when a loud BANG came from the door. "I am being gracious to you, Y/N. Get out of that room before I drag you out." "I said no!" A louder bang, likely Azure's fist hitting the door, making you jump. You couldn't help but begin shaking at the sheer rage behind the strike to the wood. Azure was pissed. Very pissed. "Fine...then go ahead and STARVE." At the word "starve", his voice amplified, a roar to his words. The sound was so petrifying you felt paralyzed, staring at the door that stood between you and the enraged lion. You began hyperventilating as it sunk in just how dangerous the lion demon king truly was. "I extended hospitality to you, Y/N. Perhaps fasting will be a good lesson for you. Allow me to be crystal clear: If you don't eat with me, then you do not eat at all." You hear Azure's footsteps receding from your door. You sank down on the bed, shaking as your brain processed the threat. Tears gathered in your eyes as you put your hands over your mouth, sobs escaping your throat. You were trapped with no way out, and it struck you that Azure could murder you and no one would know where you went. For all intents and purposes, you disappeared off the face of the earth. Your corpse would never be found. It was either the lion or a violent, brutal death.

#lmk #lmk yandere #lmk yandere azure lion #lmk yandere azure lion x reader #yandere lmk

41 notes · View notes

mylordshesacactus · 1 year

Text

Context: The party is trying to think of a way to contact the ruler of the kingdom to tell him they know about the impending apocalypse and make a plan to help. But they’re being hunted by the city guard (so can’t just request an audience) and they don’t have Sending yet (though they’re working on it), so they’re debating trying to get his attention in other ways.

Wizard: I wonder if we can like, send him a sign in some other way? Something public? Fighter: I dunno. Like. A billboard??? Paladin: Could we somehow transport the [unaware but still-living petrified adventurers from 50 years ago] statues out of here? [beat] Wizard: You mean their BODIES? Paladin: I don’t know, just...I feel like placing them in public would definitely get his attention! Like he’d see his friends and be like, oh shit, you know? DM: Spoken like a true paladin of the god of healing and light. “Exhume the honored dead and display their corpses as a message.”

#d&d

81 notes · View notes

annaraebananawriter · 1 year

Note

For the angst drabbles (idk if you're still doing them) maybe Passive Nighty's ghost following Dream around? Sorry I don't really have any cool ideas...

Hey! Don't say that! I love this idea, and I know you have many other cool ideas. This idea is definitely one I've thought of before, and I even have a couple fanfic plot ideas lying down somewhere using it.

One involved Palette and him being the only one to see Passive Nightmare's spirit, and he decides to somehow give his uncle his body back and reunite him with his papa (Dream).

The other is similar, but involves the Bad Sanses and then finding Nightmare's crown, and Passive's ghost is attached to the crown, and so they have to catch this ghost up on things and keep it a secret from their boss and figure out how to take Passive to Dream without being killed along the way.

But that's enough about me (though if you want to hear more about these ideas, feel free to ask!). I did this prompt a little bit differently, but still the same type of deal. Also, Nightmare tells Dream a story in this one, which is The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde, just so you know ahead of time.

Happy reading!!

~oOo~

It was raining again. It came down in sheets, the sky rumbling angrily and streaks of white light glowed for a second before fading back to black. Wind made the few trees left bend, a few of the weaker ones snapping in half and flying away to a better place.

Nightmare shifted away from the drops, more of a habit than anything else. In his transparent state, everything around him treated him like he was dead and buried, slipping straight through him.

He wasn't sure how long it had been since the incident. No matter how many times it snowed or rained or the sun shone, nothing changed. Nothing new grew. The land Mother was on was dead, frozen in time. The village was no better. He preferred to look the other way, however; you could only look at corpses and rubble for so long before you felt sick. Physically, he couldn't move very far, so the most he could do was stare at Mother's remains and mourn what could've been.

He looked away. Dream's pained expression, gray stone weathered overtop, bore into him, accusingly. Well, probably not accusing him, his brother was too kind for that, but he knew when he was at fault for something and since no one else was around, it was up to him to hold himself accountable.

It wasn't your fault, Dream would insist if he wasn't a statue. Stop blaming yourself, Nighty.

Nightmare shook his head. "It is my fault, though, Dream," he said, responding like his brother could hear him. "If I hadn't eaten that apple, none of this would've happened. The villagers would still be alive. You wouldn't be petrified. That...monster in my body wouldn't be doing who knows what to people."

If you hadn't, how long would it have been until you broke completely? Imaginary Dream murmured. Things might've been worse.

Nightmare frowned, drawing his knees close to his chest. No, that was too harsh. Too fast. Dream would've made sure he knew it wasn't his fault before suggesting alternative ways things could've happened. Wouldn't he?

If he's honest with himself, he'll admit that he didn't really know what Dream was thinking anymore, not recently, and that's including before the incident. He stopped being able to read his brother the longer he kept his secret of abuse. It's hard to pinpoint when exactly, but he remembered when he realized it, a horrid moment of clarity as he watched Dream talk about his day before going to bed.

He had watched his brother's smile and couldn't tell anymore whether it was real or not, if his tone was genuine. Zoning out, a voice whispered at the back of his head, furthering his distress.

When had Dream gotten so good at lying?

Another round of thunder shook things. Nightmare flinched, glancing up, feeling guilty as he looked back to Dream, remembering the first night they witnessed the sky get angry. Scared at first, he had quickly gotten used to it, curiosity over something new taking over, being replaced soon by worry as he looked over and saw how his brother cowered in fright, eyes wide.

Helpless, he tried to comfort him, but Dream stayed that way, fear coating him more than their blanket did. He had started telling a story to fill the silence as he thought, just a silly story of something that happened to him a couple days ago--exploring the forest and encountering a frog, examing it and noting his observations, only to eventually startle as the frog jumped on his skull, making him tip backward and fall in the river. He had been pulled out of his thoughts by a giggle, abruptly realizing his story had helped Dream forget about the storm for a bit.

The thunder had sounded again and Dream jumped, quieting. Nightmare had smiled, tugging him close. "Don't worry," he had said. "I'm right here. Nothing will happen as long as I'm here. Want to hear some more stories? I have lots of embarrassing moments I never told you about."

Dream had nodded, but quickly spoke before Nightmare could start another story. "And you'll be here forever?"

Nightmare blinked. "Of course! What brother would I be if I wasn't?"

"Promise?"

"I swear it." Nightmare had held up a pinky finger and hooked it around his brother's. "Now, as for a story...well, another time I was exploring the forest and..."

Since then, whenever there was a storm, Nightmare would cuddle Dream and tell him story after story until they both fell asleep. In the morning, the rain would be gone, dew lingering in the air, and they would splash in the puddles together and laugh. It was fun.

This should be no different.

But Dream was a statue right now. Nightmare had no physical form. He wasn't even sure if his brother would be able to see him. There's no way a silly story could help things. Still, he couldn't help imaging his brother cowering again, this time unable to move an inch, eyes trained on the sky. He couldn't even cover his ears to block out the sound.

Nightmare had to do something about that. He couldn't let his brother, imaginary or not, be scared like that.

He shifted until he was leaning against his brother's legs. "It's okay," he said, patting Dream's statue, hovering uncertainly over the hairline cracks around his waist. "I'm right here. I told you I wouldn't ever leave you and I intend to keep that promise. Tonight's story is a bit different than usual. I only read it recently myself. I thought it fit, though."

He might just be talking to himself. Maybe this was the first sign that he was cracking from being alone for so long. Maybe this was a bad idea, a waste of time. His brother was a statue, after all, and statues can't hear or talk or react in any way.

And yet, didn't the statue in the story had a conscious? Wasn't he alive?

"Our story starts in a kingdom. In this kingdom, a beautiful statue of a prince stands on a pedestal, gazing over his subjects. He's made of gold plating, shining jewels for eyes, and his sword. Everyone admires him. One day, the birds are meant to be migrating, winter fast approaching. One sparrow, however, seeks shelter at the prince's feet. He notices the prince is crying. He asks why and the prince explains that he is sad because of the suffering his poor subjects face."

If the Prince in the story was alive even though he was a statue, then why couldn't Dream be alive? Or, well, conscious, anyway. He knew his brother was alive. He wouldn't be here if he was dead.

If that was true, though, then he could imagine his brother relaxing as the story unfolded, calming down. He could imagine him closing his eyes and trying to sleep, focusing on his voice and letting the images free in his mind for his dreams to shape as they please.

"The prince asks the sparrow for a favor. He asks the bird to take the ruby from his statue and give it to a poor mother and child. And although the bird needs to fly south, already late, he agrees to help. The next night, the prince asks another favor. One of his sapphire eyes needs delivering to a poor writer. The sparrow is upset, not wanting to blind his new friend, but he agrees after the prince insists. The next night, the prince asks for his other eye to be delivered as well, this time to a poor girl."

He made a promise, after all. Nightmare will keep it, invisible or not. And if he can only provide stories for his brother to sleep to during thunderstorms, then...that's what he will do.

"The prince asks for the sparrow to take his gold plating and give it to the poor as well. Feeling sorrow for his prince, the sparrow cancels his plans to fly away and stays with his friend, being his eyes for him, and delivering his gold as instructed. The prince is blind. Seeing his riches are gone, the people of the kingdom call the prince ugly. Only the sparrow knows otherwise, that the prince's heart is pure. Unfortunately, not being meant for the cold, the sparrow dies from the cold, and shortly after the prince dies as well from a broken heart."

Because what else are brothers for?

#my writing #ask #ask prompt #fanfic #drabble #my fanfiction #prompt #utmv #undertale #dreamtale #dream sans #nightmare sans #passive nightmare sans #tw mentions of death #tw self blame

39 notes · View notes