#we all share that one singular braincell
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Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons [PART 4]
Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia
Word Count: 6.7k
Summary: 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'
🌶️Obligatory Warning for Some Descriptions of Violence & Mild Suggestive Content
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]
As detestable as they were, at the very least your assailants were well organized.
You were plopped neatly at the center of the room, in a very conspicuous location that would have made it difficult for a hypothetical someone to, say, just flat-out torch everything in sight without also catching his very tiny, mortal, companion up in said firestorm.
The group of them split off to tend to their tasks with a frankly shocking level of competence and foresight. Was this how adventurers were actually supposed to work? They didn’t just—I don’t know—saunter into an abandoned castle on a whim and a prayer, with no real end goal in sight and nothing but the perpetual bounding of a singular, shared, braincell to keep them on their toes? There was a plan? What was this madness.
“How much time do you think we have?” one of them called, busy working to set up some sort of wire trap that, in your humble ‘I have faced this legendary dragon and survived’ opinion, looked like it would do exactly diddly squat.
“Enough,” the Elf Wizard shrugged, thin arms crossed tight across his equally gaunt chest. “These vermin don’t have the same concept of time as we do. It may return soon, but we may also be waiting hours.”
Hours? Hours? You fought the urge to groan. And then remembered it hardly mattered if you did or not, because you were still trapped in a bubble of perpetual Silence, and that just made you want to groan louder.
Assumed-Rogue nodded tersely in response and continued constructing his pseudo-trap. The long, red, stripes of his sleeves were odd things—very in-your-face bold for a dude whose job you assumed it was to slip through shadows unseen. But then you noticed that the threads he was spinning were pooling from those slashes of crimson, and alright, that was fairly cool. ‘Your failure of a stealthy design gets a pass this time, good sir.’
“You’re certain this is one of the Briar Beasts, Lord Flamm?” Armored Lady piped in, busy shifting through the various swords strapped at her hip.
“Of course,” he hummed, flicking through his spell tome. “Have I ever led you astray before?”
Armored Dude snorted from his place across the room. “You’re not the issue. I just have trouble believing one of those monsters would still be alive at all after all this time.”
‘Lord Flamm’ snorted. “And why not? They’re like cockroaches—thriving through the worst of the world and gorging themselves on its corruption. This one is no different.”
Your brows twitched irritably.
Thankfully, Silence was not an indefinite spell. And after about ten minutes of muzzled misery, you felt its sticky, gauzy, gunk wash itself out of your throat.
“I’m getting the impression that you’re really not a fan of dragons,” you said, testing your volume.
Lord Flamm stared down at you with a hawk-eyed sort of sneer. His pale, green, glare felt like a tangible thing crawling along your skin.
“They are unnatural,” he huffed after a moment. “No creature should walk the planes of this world for such a great span of time. Immortality is a perverse transgression against the sanctities of life and existence.”
“You are literally an Elf,” you replied, incredulous. His face scrunched up like you’d forced a whole lemon into his mouth, and then he dropped another dome of Silence over your head.
Another ten minutes crawled by, and words returned to your tongue.
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?” you hummed, casually testing the arcane restraints binding your limbs. Those seemed to hold themselves in place with a great deal more fortitude than his on-again-off-again Mute Button, which was as frustrating as it was respectable.
“It’s not nearly the same. I was born into my burden,” he sniffed.
You blinked, confused. “I mean, so was Tsunotarou.”
Elf Wizard made a punched-out sort of noise, like you’d decked him right in the spleen.
“You named the beast?” he gawked. “Like a pet?”
“Look, man,” you grouched, offended on your scaly friend’s behalf. “If anyone’s the pet here, it’s me!”
Lord Flamm’s face went white, to red, and then nearly puce.
“Wait,” you spluttered. “That came out wrong—”
And then you were gagged once more.
The next time your muzzle was lifted, Lord Flamm was already pacing along the little, invisible, edge of the spell’s cage. You cleared your throat and he came to a stop a few feet away from where you were bound.
“I can see what’s happened here,” he said, stern, and you arched a brow in disbelief. You didn’t even have any solid idea what the fuck was going on, and you’d been living it for the past few weeks. He cleared his throat and glowered down at you. “You’ve been taken in by the monster’s wiles.”
You spluttered. “Not to just keep repeating myself, but really, if anyone did the ‘accidental seducing’ thing here, it was—”
He waved you off with a puckered grimace. “That hardly matters. At the end of the day, you are still the creature’s prisoner, and it is my duty as a man of integrity to assist you however I can.”
You frowned. Because while this whole thing had technically started as a hostage situation, it hadn’t really felt like one lately. Sure, Tsunotarou still threw tantrums that shook the foundation when you’d tried to put up a makeshift bathroom door, but he also listened to all your stories with the rapt attention of someone genuinely invested in the garbage pouring out of your mouth. He tucked you into your big mattress nest at night with his scaly nose, and endured all your griping with nothing but good humor. He showed you his treasures and told you terrible, dry, jokes that you were sure you only found so funny because he certainly hadn’t meant to be.
You sighed and dipped your head, expression shuttered.
Lord Flamm stepped forward and you felt a thin, gloved, finger tuck itself beneath your chin to tilt you back up to face him.
“I will save you,” he promised, something genuinely sturdy and righteous coating the words. “If you ask it of me.”
You took a deep breath in through your nose.
“There once a man from Trebucket,” you chirped, letting the jaunty tavern melody roll off your tongue like any good Bard ought to.
Lord Flamm arched a thin brow, in equal parts amusement and exasperation.
“Who really only wanted to find the dragon so he could fuck it—”
His face twisted in rage, and to the surprise of literally no one, you were Silenced yet again. Though this one felt the most like a victory so far.
And thus, the cycle repeated itself. Every quarter hour or so, the spell would drop and you’d start babbling some sacrilegious, borderline pornographic, nonsense that had him cursing you all over again. You counted each round of mockery softly in your head. Half to keep time, half to—
Your gaze trailed past the intricate, stone, entryway and caught. Perched atop the overhang were two gargoyles. Which was quite odd, seeing as you’d spent half a month living out of this room now and had never noticed them before (and you certainly would have, what with your host’s propensity for pointing out the gothic carvings each and every time one popped up in the castle’s architecture). Not to mention, they looked an awful lot like the pair of grey monsters which had been guarding the entrance when you’d first slunk in—the very duo that you’d sworn had tracked you and your friends with beady, gemstone, eyes and dug their pointed talons through solid rock.
Ancient buildings always seemed to have a life about them—never quiet, never still. Always settling with strange noises and shifting shadows that danced oddly along surfaces that were forever decaying. And this castle was no different. So it took you really listening, really closing your eyes tight and straining your ears against the perpetual white noise, to make out the low grinding of the Gargoyles as they shifted atop their perch and curled their sharp claws.
You tilted your head at them, curious, and the one on the left seemed to bristle. As much as stone could bristle. The one on the right very softly dipped its chin, almost like a bow. Its purple, glass, eyes flashed in the lowlight.
‘Wait,’ that look said.
And so you did, sitting straighter and at proper attention.
The group of Dragon Slayers was still milling about making preparations. Eventually, one of the two yet-unclassified hench people slunk from the room, and when your gaze slipped back to the gargoyles, the one on the right was gone.
You made eye contact with the remaining carving, and it curled its lip at you like a grumbly hound.
There was a scream from beyond the threshold, and then a great clattering of noise not unlike an earthquake, or the resonating crunch of a building crumbling at its base.
Immediately weapons were drawn, shoulders hunched in panic. Defensive magic swirled through the air like ink in water.
“What’s going on?!—”
With a shrieking roar, the remaining gargoyle lurched forward and collided with one of the armored attackers. The impact was like a crack of thunder, and it rattled around your skull like a gong.
And with that—dragon or no—the battle against the Hunters had officially begun.
With a panicked squawk, you began worming your still very bound self out of the dead center of this tornado of chaos. You flopped across the floor like a particularly determined caterpillar, or someone trussed up a in a sleeping bag with no limbs. You made it almost a solid twenty feet before you were scooped up by the back of your collar and dropped onto your knees.
“Not so fast, you little cretin.”
And then there was a curved knife at your throat and a set of hands trapping your own. You gulped and the blade bobbed against your chin. Stupid rogues with their stupid stealth. You grit your teeth and clenched your fists, willing the meager scraps of magic that twirled in your veins to bob to the surface. You could feel the trace rumblings of a Thunderwave reverberating down your limbs, and it was certainly no Fireball, or Lightning Bolt, but maybe it would be enough to—
There was a spray of red, red, red and the Striped Rogue at your back collapsed in a puddle of gore.
Standing over the corpse of the felled assassin was a boy. Or, well, something that very much looked like a young boy. Or, not young. Just… It was strange. He was small, slight, with a cheerful youthfulness to him. But the mirthful expression lighting his crimson eyes chilled your bones like the seeping cold from a long-forgotten tomb. It was like looking at someone with dozens—hundreds—of faces. A kaleidoscope of lifetimes. It was disorientating.
“Hello, you,” the little demon cooed. He reached out to tap a clawed finger against your forehead and the arcane binds holding your limbs shattered on impact. “Let’s get you out of here, hmm?”
Something tugged at your brain as you gaped at that mess of choppy, black-and-pink, hair, and the glittering irises that matched the blood splattered across his cheeks almost too horribly well.
“Are you… Lilia?” you asked, dazed.
“Well done, little human,” he trilled, lips curling in delight as he hauled you back to your feet. “But there will be time for proper introductions later. Let’s get you somewhere safe first, before my silly ward really does tear this whole castle down.”
“Tsunotarou is here?” you frowned, anxious. “But these people are here to kill him.”
“We’ve done our best to keep him away for as long as possible,” Lilia hummed. “But I doubt he has much more patience for skulking about in the shadows. He never did,” He sighed, long and world weary. “And I loved this old haunt so much too. I hope it survives.”
“You—” you gawked. “You’re talking about the castle?!”
“Of course,” Lilia smiled, perfectly sweet. “Swatting these pests is going to cause more damage than they’re worth to begin with—”
You were yanked out of the path of an encroaching blade, and Lilia sidestepped the pair of you smoothly to safety.
“You’re not going anywhere!” the Paladin thundered, hand whipping out to leash a whirl of vibrating, bright, magic around Lilia’s wrists. “This fight is mine! And you will have no other!”
“Ah,” your savior sighed, looking down at the faint, yellow, glow circling his skin. “Now that is a doozy.”
The great sword came down with a crash, and Lilia ducked away from the destruction with ease. He gave you a light tap on the shoulder, pushing you forward, and you felt the flush of a Haste spell nibbling at your limbs.
“Go on ahead,” he said, with all the nonchalant politeness of someone lamenting that they were going to be late for afternoon tea. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
BOOM went the now glowing sword as it sliced through the air where your savior had been standing not a moment before.
“Do not take me so lightly, wretch,” the Paladin spat, and Lilia’s civil little smile twisted into something that sent shivers racing down your spine.
“If you insist,” he beamed, with a level of enthusiasm that was bordering on sociopathic.
You didn’t stay to see the fallout. Lilia’s orders to flee aside, you knew well enough what a cat looked like before it pounced—that smug, animalistic, satisfaction that came after deciding that it was going to play with its meal for as long as it liked. And the grinding, snapping, howling noises coming from their direction was enough to reinforce that looking back would be a very terrible idea indeed.
You’d only just made it past the threshold and out in the grand hall beyond when there came a whining groan that sounded familiarly enough like the protesting noises the banister would make whenever Tsunotarou dropped too much of his weight on top of it. You peered back into the room, and from the darkness at its rear emerged a long, thin, snout.
The Great, Ebony, Dragon slithered forth from the blackness like a snake through the grass. The sharp drag of his claws against the stone was earsplitting, and when he spread his wings behind him, he seemed to cast the entire cavern into shadow. Faster than you could blink, one, two, three of the Slayers were scooped up by those massive, pointed, teeth and tossed through the air—wherein the pair of gargoyles descended upon them like a set of well-trained attack dogs. Your dragon swiveled to spit black smoke across the rest of the echoing room and its occupants. Between the swirling smog seeping from his throat and the blackness of his wings, the brilliant, green, glow of his eyes were the only source of light in the gloom. It was all horribly eerie, but mesmerizing in a way that reminded you exactly why so many ballads and epics had been written about the terrible might of Dragons.
He reared his head back and roared. His bellowing seemed to shake the very foundation of the castle, and the sparks jumping from behind his canines bit through the smoke with harsh little pop-pop-pops. And man oh man, he reallymust have been taking it easy on you and your duo of idiots, because this would have had the three of you shitting your pants on the spot.
From there, the battle more or less became a one-sided massacre. The stone soldiers flew through the air, decimating the opponents as their master demanded. Occasionally there was a flash of pink, and then a cheerful laugh followed inevitably by a noise that was all kinds of unpleasant. And at the center of it all was your newfound friend—picking apart the opposition with all the careful rage of someone determined to sear the consequences of these Hunters’ folly into the memories of their lineages for ages to come.
And then—amidst all the quite frankly epic fighting that you would have to tell Ace and Deuce all about when they came back to visit—you noticed that not far from where you were hiding observing was a familiar, angry, gaunt face. Lord Flamm’s elaborate black and maroon robes swirled around his ankles as he paced, and he was leering at the chaos unfolding not a hundred feet away with an expression that calling murderous would have been kind.
You bristled immediately, limbs lancing through with a tight sort of indignation.
He was just—right there! Standing all the way out here! When the rest of his party was busy being chewed to itty-bitty pieces!
And sure, rationally you knew that Wizards were squishy, glass-canons not meant for close combat more intense than a round of rock-paper-scissors. Sure, when you and your idiots had been facing down a dragon, Ace and Deuce had ordered you and your equally ill-armored self to run for it. Someone had probably hurled the Elf from the room the moment combat began, or demanded he whirl away to safety.
But you wanted to be angry. Because this was the man who had strode, eyes wide open, into a hornet’s nest with the sole intention of crushing the poor bugs beneath his heel. He deserved to bear the brunt of the miserable, stinging, backlash.
It certainly didn’t help that he was glaring down Tsunotarou with near frenzied loathing. The tome in his hands was flipped open to a dense spell that you couldn’t even begin to make sense of, and he was casting. Something tedious, and extravagant, and with enough somatic nonsense to make your head spin. His gloved fingers glowed beneath a growing mote of magic that shone horrible and bright in the natural shadows of the castle. Whatever sort of magic it was, it was strong enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and push frantic adrenaline through your veins. Sigils swam through the air, and you swore you could feel it sapping at your own tiny pool of mana. If this was some kind of spell that would gobble up magic, then a dragon who was nothing but magic—then Tsunotarou—he would—This spell might actually—
You ran at that wretched little bitch with everything you had, and tackled him to the ground just as a bolt of crackling, pale, force magic boomed from between his fingers. The spell shot wide, and you thanked every divine being you could think of for the enduring shittiness of Wizard Muscles.
“I should have known you’d risk your life to save that unholy monster,” he seethed, rolling back to his feet and sending you tumbling off the side.
You stood firm and silent between this awful, garbage, Elf and the Dragon he so hated.
Lord Flamm raised a hand in your direction, incensed, and then you watched as something sharp and frightened slithered its way across his features. No sparks danced along his fingertips, no black miasma curled from his palms. You shoved your hands into your pockets and rocked back and forth on your heels like the most obnoxious piece of shit you could be.
“Wow,” you drawled, low in your throat. “That was impressive. I mean. How many times did you cast all those spells on me earlier? I’m shocked you have anything left.”
The already dark look coloring his face twitched into something truly foul.
“You were doing that on purpose,” he snarled. “You vile, loathsome, bumbling ignoramus of a bard!—"
“Ah, stop, stop!” You beamed, fanning yourself with a limp wrist. “You’re going to make me blush~”
You ducked out the way with a yelp as a mote of fire whizzed past your ear—singeing far too many hairs at it went. Because fuck fuck fuck. Cantrips were still a thing. And he was powerful enough that those simple, little, bits of magic would still probably be more than enough to fry the meat off your bones.
“It’ll be enough to kill you,” he seethed—like he could read your thoughts—teeth tugged into a hideous, gaping, sneer.
Your mind zipped through every possible escape route and settled frantically on the only option that had ever truly seemed to save your ass.
“What white teeth you have?” you tried.
He roared and another shot of brilliant, red, flames careened over your head.
You ducked out of the way with a squawk just in the nick of time, nearly faceplanting into a wall in your haste.
And thus ensued a terrifying but morbidly hilarious Benny Hill chase through pillars, and behind rocks, and into holes. You killed your singular, daily use of Misty Step just trying to get out of one of said holes. And your brief attempt at tossing up a Mirror Image to throw off his groove did little but get you whacked with a Counterspell that made your bones ache.
Just as you’d burned through the last of your meager magic and were genuinely preparing to just try and deck the guy again, black smoke began to curl through the hall—soon followed by the ominous roll of thunderous growls and the heavy grindingof a gigantic beast clawing its way into the room.
You threw yourself at the dragon with more enthusiasm than was probably proper for a situation like this, and he immediately ducked his head to catch you against his snout. He curled himself around you with a rumbling snarl and your vision was drowned in a shifting sea of ebony scales. You squished yourself into his bulk with a shuddering sigh, fingers clutching a bit uselessly at the slippery surface of his natural armor.
A burst of orange flames rolled harmlessly off Tsunotarou’s scaled side and his lips curled unpleasantly over his canines. You could see the licks of emerald fire rolling off his tongue—dancing along his white teeth and lighting the hall in an ominous, sickly, glow.
Before the pair of you, Lord Flamm looked half-mad. If not fully consumed. His party wiped, his hostage freed, and the creature he hated so fiercely baring down on him with no escape.
He let his head fall back with a discordant trill of laughter and grinned at the approaching dragon without a hint of repentance. Fear, perhaps. Panic, certainly. But no remorse. He raised his hands once more, and another dredge of his own fire sparked along his fingers.
“And he shall smite the wicked and plunge them into the fiery pit.”
The Great Briar Beast of Old opened his gigantic, black, maw and choked the hall in a torrent of emerald fire.
And Lord Flamm and his Dragon Slayers were no more.
You stared intently at the singed corridor, as if waiting for one of the piles of ash to jump to its feet and pull a sword. Which you might have excused as paranoid fretting if you hadn’t heard of necrotic magics capable of doing exactly that. But after a long moment of waiting with bated breath and tight fists, the monsters did not rise from their graves, and all seemed to be truly well and over.
You let out a gigantic gust of a breath and collapsed bonelessly against the dragon at your side. After a solid minute or two of just awkwardly trying to find a good way to hug a giant lizard more than a dozen times your size, Tsunotarou slipped out of his scales, and then he was warm and fleshy in your arms once more. Still too big, still earth-shatteringly strong, but human-shapedenough that you could merrily settle into his embrace without the risk of becoming a pancake.
“Tsunotarou!” you chirped past the lingering haze of smoke. “You’re okay!”
“Me?” he gawked at you. It was an awkward angle to make eye contact, seeing as he’d latched himself onto you like a particularly determined koala, but he managed nonetheless. “You were worried about me during all of that?” He blinked those wide, neon, eyes at you like you were some horribly long and tedious math equation that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of. “You were the one who was captured!”
“They were Dragon Slayers,” you entreated, brow furrowed. “They didn’t need me for much of anything. Of course I was worried more about you.”
When the constipated look on his face refused to fade, you prodded him gently in his side.
“Look, I promise if we ever run into Bard Poachers I will be exponentially more cautious.”
He didn’t look particularly convinced—whether because he was trying to suss out of if something like ‘Bard Poachers’ were an actual, factual, threat upon your person, or because you’d just openly hurtled yourself at a clearly overpowered, feral, wizard with no regards to your already shitty constitution to speak of, so a promise to ‘be more cautious’ was about as good as saying that maybe next time you wouldn’t outright flirt with death. Only subtly. A lil’ bit.
You reached up to smoosh your thumb along the sharp slant of his frown and smooth out the harsh edges that were practically digging into his jaw.
“Tsunotarou, if you keep making that face, it’s going to get stuck like that,” you warned.
“Malleus,” he interrupted, firm. You blinked up at him slowly and your hand fell back to rest in the nonexistent space between you.
“A what?”
“Malleus,” he repeated, and you felt the weight of the word dance through the air like sparks. Like an invocation, or a curse. “My true name.”
You waited a moment in shocked silence before slowly repeating your own name back at him. He startled and snorted a laugh into your neck, some of that lingering, terrible, tension finally seeming to seep out of him.
“I am well aware of what you are called, Child of Man.”
“…I know that,” you mumbled, fighting the urge to fidget. Malleus, Malleus, Malleus. The syllables sat heavy on your tongue, like your mouth couldn’t figure out how to push them past your lips. “I thought you said that dragons don’t give out their real names.”
He drew back just enough to cup your cheeks in his ashy palms, brushing a clawed finger back and forth against one of the small cuts littering your jaw.
“There is power in a name,” he said. “It is not a gift readily bestowed.”
Then why—
You swallowed, nervous, and one of his thumbs tracked the movement along the hollow of your throat.
“This way, if you call for me, I will always hear you,” he promised, eyes going flinty and venomous as he gazed at the cinder piles of smoking intruders. “And something like this will never happen again.”
“I—I mean,” you spluttered. “Me being—And this being—I mean—” You cleared your throat. “That hardly seems like a good enough reason to—to—” To put something so important into the hands of someone who literally broke into your house less than a month ago. To give something so precious to someone so human.
“Isn’t it?” he smiled, that sharp anger melting back into something painfully soft. Your poor heart kickstarted itself all over again. He ducked forward to press his nose into your temple, and you could feel the soft puff of his breath as his grin sharpened into a smirk. “Though I would have liked to bestow my titles on you in other ways as well, if this little hero would be amenable.”
You squawked, and the only thing that shook you out of the immediate spiral into ‘did he really just ask me to—am I really going to be stuck in every goddamn bard’s trope existence of—of—' was the merry laughter that bubbled up from somewhere behind you.
“Careful, my Prince,” Lilia hummed from his place perched atop a particularly large heap of rubble. “If you come on too strong, you’ll only scare them away. Humans are flighty like that, I’m afraid.”
You could feel Malleus’s pout against your forehead.
“Not my human,” he grouched. His hands dropped from your cheeks to encircle your waist and clutch at your lower back. “And that besides,” he continued testily, “you were the one who only just this morning insisted I take decisive action.”
“That’s true,” Lilia agreed with a gentle bob of his head, resting his pointed chin against his palm. “But perhaps three sentences at least before the proposal?”
Malleus blinked, slow and serpentine, before flicking his neon gaze back to you. “That does seem fair I suppose. What do you think?”
“I think,” you gawked, trying and failing to process any of the words that were coming out of their fanged mouths, “that I am having a stroke.”
“NOT ACCEPTABLE!” boomed a voice from overhead. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FALL ILL AFTER ALL THE EFFORTS WE TOOK TO KEEP YOU SAFE!”
You jolted in shock, and Malleus’s talons flexed reassuringly at your waist as he gently turned you back-to-chest so that you could face your accuser. He nestled his chin into your shoulder, and you could feel his horns bump against your skull as he tried to burrow in as close as possible. Which all would have been thoroughly distracting, but then you noticed that one of the Gargoyles from early had landed directly across from you. Its spiked head was swiveling back and forth as it appraised you like some particularly ruffled cockatoo. And that in itself was bizarre enough to help you focus on something other than the weight along your back and the steadily rising heat in your cheeks.
“Uhm, hello?” you tried.
“WE HAVE ALREADY MET!” It screeched. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR INTRODUCTIONS!”
“It talks,” you blanched.
“OF COURSE I SPEAK, YOU IGNORANT ENTERTAINER!” The Gargoyle thundered. Its yellow eyes flashed in indignation. “HOW COULD I NOT LEARN TO COMMUNICATE IN A RESPECTABLE FASHION WHEN SERVING SOMEONE SO MAJESTIC AS HIS MAJESTY?!”
“I think,” the other Gargoyle said, slipping forward so silently you could hardly believe it was made of such strong stone at all, “that what Sebek is trying to say, is that we are happy to finally be able welcome you into our home, even if it is under less than ideal circumstances. And that we are very pleased to be able to speak with you.”
“THAT IS WHAT I ALREADY SAID, SILVER!” the spiky one snarled. No one else looked particularly bothered by his ceaseless volume, so it was probably normal. He stuck his carved nose into the air with a harumph. “AND I HAVE HEARD OF THE WAYS OF YOU TRAVELING STORY TELLERS! IF YOU BREAK MY MASTER’S HEART, YOU WILL SUFFER AN ETERNITY OF TORMENT AT MY HAND!”
Malleus growled, low and rumbling, from over your shoulder. Instantly his stalwart guardian cowed—head dipping like a kicked a puppy.
“Of course,” it continued, much softer. “I don’t think this human would do that. And—And I think my master has made a very good choice in his mate, and I will be happy to serve you too.”
Lilia sighed a sigh that sounded very much like a doting mother overflowing with parental affection. Like the kind of noise one may hear on a cozy Sunday afternoon while helping prepare dinner, or while sitting on a little, floral, couch and sifting through little paintings of grandchildren. There was still blood splattered all along his cheeks.
“It’s so lovely to have the family all together again,” he cooed. “And I do think that you will make such a marvelous addition.”
“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you nodded jerkily, just as your knees buckled and you collapsed to the floor.
.
.
On the first day of the new month, Ace and Deuce made their way back to the forgotten castle nestled in a pool of lava.
“We should never have left them,” Deuce grumbled for what was maybe the ten thousandth time. Ace was sick of hearing it. He was even more sick of the fact that despite being constantly inundated with various versions of ‘oh, we’re such terrible friends,’ the little, twisting, spike of guilt in his gut never grew any duller. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to work? Something-something-repetitive-exposure-therapy, or whatever? This sucked. He wanted a refund on this whole ‘conscience’ thing. Maybe it wasn’t too late to sell his soul and become a Warlock or whatever. Surely that would help.
“We didn’t have a choice,” Ace reminded him. Again. “They’re okay. I know they are. We’re going to show up and they’ll be, I don’t know, lying in a bed of gold being hand fed grapes or something.”
Deuce made a rumbly, whining, kind of noise that made him sound even more pathetic than usual and Ace sighed, determined to instead focus on the rickety rope bridge swinging beneath their feet.
The ancient, looming, monstrosity of a building was just as cold and dark as it had been the first time. If anything, it was more filthy. With walls stained with seeping ash and the charred, skeletal, remains of something that Ace was definitely, absolutely, not going to think about scattered throughout the grime.
The two of them made their way to the heart of the castle until they were standing at the entrance of a grand, cavernous, chamber that may have once been some sort of ballroom.
Ace didn’t know what he was expecting. Slaver’s coils maybe. A chain around your ankles and rags drooping from your shoulders. Or maybe you wouldn’t even be there at all—long since swallowed down as a little, midnight, snack.
He certainly wasn’t expecting to see you lounging contentedly atop a mountainous heap of soft blankets, with the master of this castle—terror-incarnate, death from above, an eldritch beast ripped straight out of legend—curled along the lumpy hills of your grandiose pillow fort, its great head nestled at your back as you reclined against its scales and chattered away. Like the goddamned, rambling, idiot you had always been.
One of the dragon’s large, green, eyes shifted towards the intruders at its door, and Ace froze in place. You paused your chattering to raise your hand with an excited little wave. Your tattered traveler’s clothes had been replaced with something silken and soft enough that it would probably melt in his fingers, and it swayed like mist around you as you made your way to your feet. You were practically dripping in platinum, and diamonds, and emeralds, and—he was going to stop counting them before he gave himself a conniption.
And yeah… it wasn’t exactly a throne of gold and gemstones, but it was almost just as impressive. And immediately indignation swept through Ace with a horrible kind of vengeance. Because how dare you actually be living it up over here when he had been so fucking worried just lying about all that cool stuff to keep Deuce from storming the castle gates?
“You made it!” you chirped, perfectly merry despite the gigantic maw full of sharp teeth hovering at your shoulder.
“Of—Of course we did,” Deuce stuttered, his blue eyes flicking back and forth so quickly from the dragon, to you, to Ace, to the dragon, to you—that Ace genuinely thought he might be having a seizure. “We promised we would.”
You stopped in front of them with a considerate little hum, sharp eyes tracing and cataloguing their varying reactions. After a moment of what was obviously some very smug preening and even smugger ‘I win this round’ silent gloating, you slipped out of the piles of entangled jewels with an exaggerated shrug. With the exception of an intricately carved emerald pendant hanging softly between the hollows of your collarbones, the rest of the infinitely expensive and rare gems fell to the ground with a series of clattering chatter.
“All that shit is so heavy,” you whined. Whined. Like you had any right to complain about anything at all for the rest of your existence. You leaned forward with a wink. “I was just hoping it’d make your thieving, money-hungry ass, jealous.” You smirked, proud. “And it looks like it worked, you goddamn traitors.”
Ace was about to splutter out the most scathing remark his spiteful little brain could come up with, when Deuce ruined everything by rushing forward like the blubbering idiot he was and scooping you up into a bearhug.
“You’re okay! You’re okay!” he wailed. “We missed you so much!”
“Speak for yourself,” Ace huffed, and twinged miserably when it came out sounding far too soft. He cleared his throat and decided to take a different approach. “You know, last time I was sort of joking about the whole ‘bards and dragons’ thing. But it looks like you’ve made yourself real comfortable. And here I thought you were always super opposed to the ‘fucking my way out of my problems’ stereotype.”
However, because the universe seemed determined not to give Ace any kind of win for the rest of his natural existence, instead of getting all embarrassed and mousey, you just huffed and turned up your nose at him.
“Well obviously not as a dragon,” you complained. “Do you know how big he is? How would that even work, huh?” The aforementioned dragon lowered his gigantic head to settle on the ground at your side, and you leaned against him good-naturedly when he grumbled low in his throat. “Yeah, no,” you said to the beast, rolling your eyes. “Nice try, but no.”
Deuce immediately choked and started hacking up a lung, and Ace wanted to die.
“You can talk to it?” the redhead asked instead of keeling over.
You shrugged.
“Not like this. But I’ve learned to interpret most of it.” You wiggled your fingers. “It’s my sixth sense.”
Ace’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, right. If anything, it’s your ‘I’ve been dicked down by a dragon and think that makes me soooo special now’ sense—”
The great, ebony, monster growled and the Fighter’s mouth snapped shut like someone had taken a hammer to his jaw. You snickered goodhumoredly and elbowed your companion gently at the base of one of its long, sharp, horns.
“He’s just joking around,” you said to the winged horror. “You don’t have to get all defensive.”
There was another grumpy sneer, but the dragon simply settled more heavily at your side with a defeated sort of huff. The gust of a sigh sent a wave of scorching heat along Ace’s front, and he fought the urge to cow immediately and beg for his life. Because apparently that wasn’t going to be necessary, because you had—you had—
“Are you in love?” Deuce blurted, because unlike Ace, the Barbarian was pure, and good, and still didn’t fully understand how eggs worked, let alone the concept of Fuck or Die.
And then you surprised him yet again by getting as flustered as he’d expected you to when he’d accused you (rightly) of bending over for a goddamn fucking dragon.
But before you could answer, the dragon lifted its head to press its temple against yours. Or, as well as it could do that when it dwarfed the lot of you the way an elephant might hover over a mouse. Mostly it just ended up being a very, very, delicate head bump. A deep, warbling, purr started from its chest and rolled all the way up and past its sharp, white, canines.
“Uhm,” you tried again. “You guys are invited to the wedding, I guess.”
“The what?!” Deuce howled, before promptly falling to his knees to fan himself like a devasted matron in a church.
You sighed and rubbed at the back of your head, clearly embarrassed. You mumbled something under your breath that sounded a bit like ‘it’s kind of a whole saga, y’know.’ And Ace, in all his infinite good will, decided to take pity on you just this once. And also because you were clearly loaded now, and all good friends know that sharing is caring, right?
“Come on then, Bardy,” he smirked, leaning down to kick Deuce flatter to the floor—half to knock the guy out of his frantic spiraling, half so he could perch on his back like a chair. Because the stone floor looked really uncomfortable, and he had a feeling that trying to slip into that nice nest of blankets of yours would not end well. “Tell us a story.”
.
.
.
[TAG LIST] CLOSED
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#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#Malleus Draconia x Reader#Malleus x Reader#Malleus Draconia#Malleus x Yuu#Dragon Malleus#Monster Mayhem#My Writing#Twst Fantasy AU#Sebek Zigvolt#Lilia Vanrouge#Silver Twst#Rollo Flamm#Slight Rollo Flamm x Reader#Ace Trappola#Deuce Spade#Monster Mayhem Malleus Part 4
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PROPAGANDA:
The Bad Boys:
They were so entertaining to watch. All of them share one singular braincell and they keep losing it. They couldn’t even keep Jimmy alive.
They’re goofy little guys! Who doesn’t love them! Have you seen any clips?! Plus, ladder talk podcast. Iconic. One of a kind. Never been done before. The hijinks! The tragic ending! They’re very much the best bad boys on the internet
They’re each a lil dumb but put them together and they get so much stupider, it’s wild. We love irl pals who work together and are terrible influences on one another. They actively build a brand of mutual bullying, true friendship <3
they are everything, they are sunshine and love and nonsense and digging straight down, they stay loyal the whole time and are messes without each other!
“Bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do, watch’s gonna do when they come for you”.
Familoier:
I CANT SPEND THE NEXT HOUR TYPING
THE TRIO OF ALL TIME TRULY- ALL 3 OF THEM LOVE AND CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO MUCH- LIKE ROIER AND CELLBIT ARE MARREID YEAH BUT THEY STILL CONSIDER JAIDEN PART OF THEIR FAMILY SHE IS IMPORTANT TO THEM AND THEY ARE IMPORTANT TO HER- ROIER AND JAIDEN WILL ALWAYS BE PARTNERS NO MATTER WHAT
theee relationship of all time: roier is husbands with cellbit and jaiden is his qpp, they are all so caring for each other and they have had their tension and their bad moments but there's a genuine want to communicate and grow better all the time :( <3
Cellbit and Roier are romantic married, Roier and Jaiden were platonic partners raising a child together, and all 3 are chaos together! But get along so so well! They support each other so much and care about each other so deeply and they are all Sillies
this is jaiden, and this is jaiden's partner/ the father of her child roier, and this is roier's cannibal husband cellbit
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Hi, i just found your blog and i love your Legend of Korra fics, especially the hcs for a best friend reader x korra! Can i request something between a nonbender fem!reader who's actually best friends with korra and her loving gf Asami. Sometimes it seems that the reader and korra share a singular braincell lol, and she can be quite cheeky and stubborn, she loves to push korra's buttons and see what will happen next. So my idea was that the 3 girls were hanging out together, and then the reader starts teasing korra, maybe about something embarrassing that has happened to her or something, until korra has enough of her crap and tackles her down (or uses her bending or wtv) and tickles the sh!t out of her until she remembers not to destroy the Avatar's dignity right in front of her girlfriend smh.
I need my fluff don't mind me lol. Anyway, feel free to ignore this or not, but if you do write it, thank you so much in advance! you rock :)
Hello Anon! THIS IS SO FLIPPIN CUTE OMG. I'm lowkey getting sibling vibes between Korra and the reader AHHH. okay, another platonic!korra fanfic coming up!
Don’t Mess With The Avatar | Platonic!Korra x Reader
╰┈➤ PLOT: You were tired of shopping. Asami dragged Korra out to go shopping and Korra dragged you. She was not going shopping without you there for support. When you all lay on the couch watching trash, something told you to tease the Avatar. Rookie mistake.
╰┈➤ WARNING: A Bit Of Platonic Asami and Korra x Reader (if you squint), Reader Stirs Up Trouble, Cursing, No Use Of Y/N, Barely Proofread
⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ
It’s been a day of walking around Republic City, shopping, eating, and talking. Honestly, you were exhausted. The sun was shining down on you all day, your calves ached, and your shoes were starting to mend with the ground.
You found yourself ecstatic when Asami finally declared it was time to go home.
Now laying on the couch with your feet propped up on someone’s lap, (you didn’t care to find out who’s), you happily watched tv while munching on the leftovers you three bought earlier today.
“No! Please Laohan,” the girl on the show begged. She clasped her hands together as she kneeled in front of the tall man. “I wanna be with you! I wanna stay with you!” the girl was dressed in dark green royal wear, in a castle that was decorated with the colors red and brown.
Korra scoffed. “She should’ve thought of that before she cheated on him!”
“You should’ve thought of that before you cheated on me,” said Laohan, the man in red. He shook his leg to loosen the girl’s grip. He tried to walk away. She wailed and wailed until he was finally able to walk away without her.
Korra gasped. “He just said what I said! See, I told you he and I are like two peas in a pod.”
“Or the script is terribly predictable,” Asami commented, looking over at her girlfriend with a sly and unamused look. Korra stuck her tongue out.
“Whatever. It just proves Laohan’s an awesome person just like me.”
You cackled, a little louder than intended.
Korra deadpanned. “What? Am I not an awesome person?”
“No, no, you’re a great person, Kor,” you snickered.
“That’s not what I said though.” the Avatar positioned herself so that she faced you head on. “Loahan is an awesome person, just like me. We’re both cool, great leaders, and we have so much coolness that it translates well in stressful moments such as a lady begging for your love and forgiveness.” the girl gestured to the screen.
Loahan was now in a meeting, ignoring the girl who begged for his forgiveness again.
“Mm, I’m not so sure about that second one, Korra,” you looked over at her. “I’ve seen you freak out over Asami just because she looked your way.” Asami chuckled as you go on. “This was before you even knew you liked her, by the way.”
The Avatar scoffed. “Okay, so?”
“Sooo, while she may not have been asking for your forgiveness or begging you to wed her, you were still a mess because she was sooooo pretty and it was soooo unfair that Mako had a pretty girlfriend like her and not you,” you smirked, watching the Avatar scramble around with a blush on her face.
“Okay, but, that was one time.”
“Au Contarie. It was multiple times. One was when we were having dinner before you two got together, another was when she was riding a motorcycle and took her helmet off and her hair was flowing freely with the wind, and another time was whe--”
“OKAY!” Korra exclaimed. Her face matched the red on Asami’s jacket. “So, there were a couple of times where I freaked out over Asami’s beauty but, can you blame me?” She grabs the fire nation woman by the waist. “She’s pretty, smells nice, and makes some cool ass stuff.”
Asami awed. She kissed Korra’s cheek and moved some of her hair from her face. “Thank you, Kor. That’s really sweet.”
“Yeah, yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “but you’re still a bit of a wreck. Most definitely not as cool or nonchalant as Loahan.” you paused the tv show. You guys were talking too much. It was important to see every single scene in this show. Look away for one second and suddenly the show’s in a different time period with new characters who speak a different language.
“Okay, now I’m starting to think you just want to embarrass me.” Korra frowned.
“Nope, just want to squash your ego a bit.”
“Hey now,” Asami started. “Let’s play nice. No need to get all feisty and mean.”
“I’m not mean! I’m just reliving memories. Like, do you remember that time when we all went out for ice cream and Korra got that triple scoop? And then as we walked back to the car, she tripped over some rocks and then–”
Korra tackled you off the couch and onto the ground. She scrambled as you try to break away from her grip with a laugh.
“Korra!! Let me go!”
“No! You talk too much and I’ve had enough of you exposing me in front of my girlfriend!!”
You thought Korra tackling you to the ground was the only thing she was going to do to keep you quiet. Unfortunately, you were wrong. Her hands found their way to your sensitive sides and she started tickling the shit out of you.
You squirmed more and laughter escaped your lips; trying to escape out of her grip was impossible. Though her hands devilishly tickled your sides and messed with the skin, her hold on you was strong.
It was torture.
Her fingers skillfully danced across your skin. Her nails made the tickling even worse. She purposefully made sure to graze her fingernails over your stomach as you squirmed underneath her.
With tears in the corner of your eyes, you pleaded the Avatar for mercy.
“Please! Please,” you begged between laughter. “I’ll be good, I promise! I won’t say anything.”
Korra pinned your hands to your sides. Her eyes narrowed as she made eye contact. “You swear?”
You panted. Desperate, you shook your head yes.
“Eh, I don’t believe you.” Her hands attacked your sides again.
“Korra!” Asami removed her hands from your side. She glared at her girlfriend who was pouting and laughing at the same time.
“Hey, I was having fun!” Korra whined.
“Oh, come on. They deserve mercy. They apologized!”
Asami was right. Your sides ached and tears of laughter slid down your face. Your face probably changed in color from how much you were laughing and the lack of breath you had. You turned onto your side to catch your breath.
Korra groaned. “Fine!” She ripped her hands away from Asami’s. “That better be the last time you try to expose me in front of my girlfriend, got it?” Korra jabbed a finger into your thigh.
You exhaled and waved a hand at her. “Swear. Never again.”
WC: 1,074
#korra#the legend of korra#legend of korra#avatar korra#platonic#platonic x reader#legend of korra x reader#korra x reader#korra x you#korra x y/n#korra x asami#korrasami#gender neutral terms#gender-neutral terms#pastel-peach-writes#pastel peach writes
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death of our sanity and singular collective braincell; heartsteel fanfic- pt1 - i know your secrets
warnings ⚠️ contains swearing, flirting like how you flirt w your friends, it’s more of a platonic thing really. Friendly bullying, just homies being homies
You created a groupchat
You named the groupchat “🤡🤡🤡”
You: guys.
Settrigh🗿: HEY WHAT’S UP?
You: HI SETT
Settrigh🗿: HI
Settrigh🗿: SO WHAT’S WITH THE CLOWN EMOJIS?
You: that, you’ll find out soon
You: i made a gc because we’re all homies here, and we needed a gc 🥰🥰🥰
You: i also have some interesting…news to share
Settrigh🗿: uh oh you’re scaring me
You: don’t worry sett, it’ll be okay 😁😁😁
Settrigh🗿: ALRIGHT… although something is telling me i probably shouldn’t trust you
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: spill
Croissante🥐: Hello. I’m here. I’m concerned but slightly intrigued 👀👀👀
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: the FUCK did they go, they can’t just come in here, say they have to say something AND THEN LEAVE???
G R E E N 🌿: i’m kinda scared too 😳😳😳
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: you’re always pscared what’s new 🗿
G R E E N🌿: THATS BECAUSE YOU GUYS HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH JUMPSCARING ME, YALL SUCK ☹️
Phel🤫🧏♂️: #justiceforezreal
G R E E N🌿: SEE? APHELIOS GETS IT
Croissante🥐: Yeah…
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: ez. he’s the one who SETS UP THE JUMPSCARES
You: the dye must’ve leaked into his brain and killed all his braincells 💀💀💀
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: hes a blonde, he already had negative braincells to begin with 💀💀💀
G R E E N🌿: STOP BULLYING ME 😭
You: No.
G R E E N🌿: YES.
G R E E N🌿: DIDN’T YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL US?
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: if you don’t tell us, i’ll throw a shoe
Phel🤫🧏♂️: i’ll throw his other shoe 🫥
Settrigh🗿: that would leave a mark
You: OKOK CHILL
Settrigh: We need to know please 😔😔😔
You: okay so.
You: yall know how i was at the dorm yesterday
You: i’m surprised it didn’t smell like straight cheese and sweat
G R E E N🌿: ARE YOU IMPLYING IT SMELT LIKE GAY CHEESE AND SWEAT
You: WHAT? NO. IM SAYING IT SMELT SURPRISINGLY CLEAN FOR A PLACE 6 SWEATY ADULT MEN LIVE IN
You: when they know basic hygienic 😍😍😍
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: QUIT YAPPING JUST TELL US WHAT YOU WANTED TO TELL US
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: YAPOLOGIST FR
Settrigh🗿:
You: CHILL IM MULTITASKING
You: anyways, I was on my way to sett and phel’s room to play some animal crossing bc they’re animal crossing addicts
Settrigh🗿: I’m an animal crossing addict and im not afraid to admit it XD
You: so on the way there, i had to pass ezreal’s room. and i shit you not, i hear him talking to himself
G R E E N🌿: oh lord. not this.
You: oh yes.
You: wanna tell us what you said EZREAL?
G R E E N🌿: nope i think i’ll pass 😃
You: that’s fine, i’ll just say it myself
You: when i walk past ez’s room, i hear him full on simping for lux, begging them gods to let her notice him
Settrigh🗿: WHAT THE HELL XD
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: jesus christ. i knew ez’s crush on lux was bad, but i didn’t know it was this bad.
G R E E N🌿: STOP NO ITS NOT TRUE
You: YES IT IS.
Settrigh🗿: oh it’s true, why would reader ever lie to us? xd
G R E E N🌿: ITS NOT I SWEAR 😭
Phel🤫🧏♂️: we’re never letting you hear the end of this 😭
G R E E N🌿: I HATE YALL 😭😭😭
Settrigh: Aw we love you too <3
Croissante: Lol. Ez gotta be more careful next time
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸😈🤘👹👹👹: bro’s rizz is in the negatives
Settrigh🗿: bro is in the trenches
Phel🤫🧏♂️: bro is tremendously down bad
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸😈🤘👹👹👹: we’re never letting him live this down are we?
Phel🤫🧏♂️: no we are NOT
You: and that’s not even all
You: y’all are so strange istg, the shit i hear whenever i’m over is just insane
Settrigh🗿: THERES MORE???
You: after passing ez’s room and busting nerves from trying not to laugh, i pass k’sante’s room, and the door is WIDE open
Settrigh🗿: uh oh
Croissante🥐: Yeah… uh oh is an understatement
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: bro is cooked 💀
You: i saw him scrolling on grindr 💀💀💀💀💀
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: 💀💀💀
Croissante🥐: YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS 💀
You: DONT ACT INNOCENT
You: I SAW YOU K’SANTE
You: I SAW YOU.
You: YOU EVEN SAID
You: “DAT ASS THO”
Croissante: I DIDN’T THINK ID BE EXPOSED. I DIDNT THINK ANYONE SAW
You: I DID.
Settrigh🗿: Oh god… what else? XD
G R E E N🌿: we’re all curious, don’t leave us hanging 🤷♂️
Phel🤫🧏♂️: i second this 👀
You: when i FINALLY reach sett and phel’s room…
Phel🤫🧏♂️: you’re making it sound like one of those stories old people tell you about how they got to school 😭
G R E E N🌿: “i climbed 2 mountains and walked through the snow” lookin ahh
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: 💀💀💀
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: real
You: STFU
You: anyways, what do i hear???
Settrigh🗿: oh god. please no
You: KISSING. NOISES.
You: YALL FR THOUGHT I WOULDN’T HEAR
Phel🤫🧏♂️: 😟😟😟
You: y’all have anything to say about that?
Settrigh🗿: READER.
You: yes sett? 🥰
Settrigh🗿: how could you…😔
You: because y’all didn’t invite me to join 😔
Settrigh🗿: you didn’t even ask you bastard
Settrigh🗿: ya snooze ya loose yk
G R E E N🌿: one time i heard them kissing in the laundry machine
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: same, they were like so loud 💀💀💀
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: at least sett was, bro sounded like a subaru
G R E E N🌿: LMFAOOO
Croissante🥐: Lol
Mother 🤤🤤🤤: What on Earth did I just come back to?
Mother🤤🤤🤤: I spend a few hours experimenting with samples and check my phone for the time, only to see a hundred notifications. Shouldn’t you guys be cleaning?
Schizophrenia🧑🎤🎸🤘😈👹👹👹: RUN. ITS MOTHER. RUN FOR THE HILLS
#heartsteel fanfic#league of legends#league of legends fanfic#heartsteel ezreal#heartsteel kayn#heartsteel aphelios#heartsteel sett#heartsteel yone#heartsteel k'sante#group chat#writing#heartsteel#ezreal#shieda kayn#aphelios#yone#ksante#sett#riot games#riot music
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Today I lost a dear member of my family, Rune. Rune was rushed to a vet today. Shortly after reaching the vet she had a seizure and her heart stopped, and could not be restarted.
Rune was 6 years old. My husband found her while working at Walmart. She was hiding under a pallet. He carefully coaxed her out and then kept her in the manager office in a box(with food and water!), which she broke out of. He then took her home in another box, which she broke out of again. We welcomed Rune happily into our lives and hearts. When we first got her we couldn't even tell her gender, so we decided on the name Rune. (She was obviously, now, a girl. She just had too much fluff)
Rune was a menace to society, my mental health and most especially our other cats. She loved to bully them if given a chance, and she'd scream for food if you stepped a single foot in the kitchen. She was the least graceful cat I've ever met in my life, and had maybe one singular braincell.
But she also loved being brushed so much she'd drool, loved feet, and would let you pick her up whenever you wanted and immediately begin purring. She didn't care if you cried in her fur, and would just keep purring and letting you cuddle her until you were done. She loved to cuddle, and would always find her way into someone's lap. She liked to cuddle with my friend Mavis when they went to bed, and watch videos with them. Even if you upset Rune, she'd never hurt you, her bites were the gentlest things I'd ever felt. Rune couldn't stand to hurt anyone, and even when she was at the vet, sick and probably in pain I'll never know, she never once tried to bite any of the vets or techs.
Rune had so much love to give(as long as you were human) and she would accept all of it back. She was a sweet thing, and I loved her so so very much. I watched her grow up, and she purred me through many a mental breakdown.
I have so many videos and photos of her, from every stage of her life. And the fact that I will never have any new videos of her antics, of her sweetness, has killed something inside of me. I'd trade so much to just get one last chance to cuddle her and hear her purr for me.
I wanted to share this, because Rune was my darling and I want everyone who possibly can to see her, and to know her and to mourn that she's gone now. She deserves to be loved, because that's all she ever wanted. There was no such thing as too much love to her.
So please, send her your love. She deserves all of it, even if she's no longer around to enjoy it.
#pet death#cat death#death#tw: pet death#tw: cat death#tw: seizures#tw: death#cat#pet#i wanted to share because more people should know rune#she deserved all the love the world could give her#she deserved more than 6 years
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I really like how every single person who read iwwv collectively agrees that James and Oliver end up in a cabin in the woods with 40 cats. We all share one singular braincell because ML Rio stole the rest.
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because I am a glutton for steddie-sharing-one-singular-braincell
imagine, if you will, Steve and Eddie being clueless about the existence of bisexuality. I mean, every guy appreciates another objectively attractive guy, right? a dream or two, a what-if scenario, a stupid kiss with a guy during spin the bottle that wasn’t that bad actually - that doesn’t mean anything, everyone does that.
right?
cue a smoking session. Robin drifted off already, snores her worries away all the way on the couch, but Steve and Eddie stay up and they talk - about everything and anything. no one knows who said it but suddenly the question hangs in the air - why don’t we kiss?
for funsies. for totally appropriate and heterosexual reasons. just dudes being guys. Robin would definitely say so, she’s reasonable like that.
they kiss. and it’s - nice? pretty fun. hm.
probably means nothing. Boobies, amirite? Eddie vehemently agrees.
they’re friends, they’re chill - like, so chill. they kiss sometimes. no big deal. it’s fun, Robin, stop doing weird faces, jesus.
it goes on like this for a year or more, nancy comes back for the summer break all the way from Emerson and uses a barbeque with the Party to come out, officially.
‘Bi-what?’ Steve asks, looking at Eddie.
‘You can do that?’ asks Eddie, looking right back, to which Robin adds ‘Patti Smith give me strength’
apparently you can, in fact, do that.
it’s pretty cool, actually.
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WIP Wednesday
@tallmatcha kindly tagged me.
@no-braincells-inc @nullcanary @fenharael @scrawnytreedemon and anyone else on here who may have a WIP they wanna share :)
here is something from my singular attempt at a more light hearted fic.
“Would you like to tell me why you felt the need to break Head Preceptor Callium’s nose just outside my class where all of my students could see it?” Rogier was truly at a loss. D had been many things, but rash wasn’t typically one of them. Perhaps he could stand to be a bit more thoughtful or nuanced sometimes, but he’d never been prone to such violent outbursts before.
Maybe things had changed in the years they’d been apart. Well, of course they’d changed. Change was the only constant, after all. Evidence of that was glowering at him from behind a featureless golden mask made to appear as if it were peering out from the gaping maw of a lion. Silver and gold replaced by the red and gold of the New Order. “I found him disagreeable,” D answered.
Rogier waited for elaboration. None came. He pressed his lips together and kept his face passive enough, even if he wanted to shout at this idiot for the scene he’d caused. Half a lecture wasted quelling the wounded pride (and face) of one ex-lover, wrangling the stoic fury of the other. He almost wished Radahn had never given up his stranglehold on the stars so that fate would stop fucking with him. Of all the preceptors for D to run into in the hour or two he was here!
Maybe it was a tad self-involved to assume that he had been the reason for D punching the other man in the face, but with so little data, Rogier could hardly begin to extrapolate. The only point of commonality between the two was himself, but how likely was it that they’d spoken of him in such a brief space of time?
He changed tactics, hoping to put D at ease and draw something approaching an explanation out. He’d have to give it to the provost before long anyway. Callium would surely twist this into being his fault somehow, after all, and he would need to be prepared with a defense.
With his most condescending smile, he eyed the red feathery thing on D’s helm. “Nice plume, by the by.”
D was still rigid, and had not taken more than two steps into the room. “So I have been told.”
Rogier let the smile soften up, something more friendly. “The students have been tracking your company’s progress since you left Leyndell. They’re thrilled to see Knights of the Order in person. You could be very popular here, you know.”
Nothing for a moment. Then, “We don’t need to speak.”
Why be precise when you can just obliterate everything at once? Such was D, Hunter of Tact, quarry ever out of reach. Rogier kept the smile but what had he been expecting? That D would see him and change his mind about everything? Sit down for a friendly chat over tea? Maybe even sweep him in close and touch his cheek tenderly like he used to? By every star in the sky, he was delusional. It’d been five years! Why couldn’t he let this damned thing die? “That makes for a very boring wait, and you’re the one who disrupted my class and caused me to have to endure it. So, you will have to deal with some discomfort of your own.” Rogier dropped into his chair and sank low, legs splayed like a child having a minor fit. The toes of his boots were peeking out the other side of the desk.
D said nothing still, and stood at attention like a soldier waiting for an order from his superior. He looked imbalanced and strange without the bust at his chest. Rogier tilted his head and let his eyes wander around his office. This was becoming painful. Had been painful for years, really. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, and tried again. “How do you find Leyndell?” he asked, eyes on the ceiling.
“Pleasant.”
Had he ever had a single conversation with this man? Ever?
But that was just it, he supposed. He’d had far too many. The well was dry but he kept stubbornly sending a bucket down expecting to get anything back but bones and dust. Knowing this, he threw the bucket again anyway, because he had never been good at knowing when to quit. “How is Devin?”
“Why do you continue to speak?” D asked before Rogier even finished the question.
“It is entirely normal to make conversation-”
“I don’t want to talk with you,” D reiterated.
“You punched. The Head Preceptor. Of my house. In the face,” Rogier said like he was speaking to an idiot. Because he was! What’d D think would happen if he did something like that in Raya Lucaria? That he’d just continue on his merry way without having a little talk about it first? Rogier shoved himself to his feet and closed most of the distance between them, leaving D at arms’ length. From here he could see the pale eyes behind the mask and they were as angry as they had always looked. He could imaginethe scowl that was permanently carved on D’s mouth, as if everything he beheld was an affront to him, personally. “Do you have so little to say for yourself, Knight of the New Order, for surely this conduct does not reflect highly on your station?”
“Do you so enjoy lecturing you do it in your leisure time, too?” D muttered.
“Oh, leisure, you say? You think I enjoy this?”
“The way cats enjoy mice.”
“I had no intention of making this any more difficult than it needed to be-”
“Stop bloody lying for half a second of your miserable life,” D snapped.
Rogier clenched his teeth. “I am not lying. You aren’t worth the effort it takes.”
D’s eyes were furious. But he spat, “He’s sullying your name to strangers.”
The dizzying pace of their conversation suddenly ground to a halt. Rogier’s mind was reeling from the whiplash and he squinted at D in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“The man I punched,” D said. “He implied-” D stopped and shifted his weight but kept his shoulders squared and his head high. “Unsavory behavior. On your part. To get where you are.”
Rogier stared at him, and was it suddenly quite warm in here? Was the world on fire, actually? Why was his face so hot? And oh but he was a wretch, truly pathetic, that someone defending him set his heart aflutter like a dying autumn leaf tossed to the uncaring breeze. It wasn’t that he was so incapable and helpless. He was born to nobility, of course he was used to politicking. And of course an academic life must be drenched in those politics he so despised. And of course he managed to tangle himself in them in the most foolhardy manner possible by spurning the head of his department. The idea of the faculty knowing anything about his personal life had mortified him to begin with, but he should have considered that before sleeping with and then violently severing all ties with his bloody boss.
But impulse control was something D had always had an iron grip on and Rogier could never grasp. So when he surged forward and shoved up that golden mask to capture the mouth behind it with his own, D was likely too startled to know what to do. And it was terribly immature, and brash, and stupid, and everything that Rogier did wrong on a regular basis yet somehow never learned from. D’s mouth was soft and warm and responsive, even if the rest of him was less so, still too stunned to react. This was senseless, a dog chasing its tail, a child babbling incoherently, moths chasing flames instead of moonlight, it was-
A knock at the door and the provost announced his arrival. Rogier drew away sharply and D was staring at him in shock, expression not unlike those of his students who panicked when called upon precisely because Rogier knew they had not been listening. It didn’t matter in the end. D would leave on his assignment, and Rogier would remain here at the Academy, and they could go back to studiously forgetting that the other one even existed. With that in mind, he allowed himself to admit, “I did lie.” He pulled D’s mask back down over his stunned face and held it by the chin. “I hate your plume.”
He turned to the door and set his features back to something pleasant and agreeable, but also adequately chastened and humbled, since the provost was bound to be terribly irritated that he even needed to have this meeting. Rogier greeted him with utmost professionalism as he opened the door to allow the venerable old man inside. His expression was distinctly displeased and he nodded a curt greeting as he swept in.
“I’ll make this brief,” the provost said, not even deigning to take a seat. D stood rigid and tense. “Your conduct with Head Preceptor Callium was most unbecoming, and it is only the seal of the Elden Lord upon your missive which has kept me from having you thrown from the Academy gates by a pair of knights.”
D bit out a quick apology, perfunctory and meaningless.
The old man sighed dismissively. “Fortunately, Callium’s nose will mend, but I am afraid lost trust takes a bit more time, which is not anything you have the luxury of since he was to set out for Leyndell with the others in a week’s time. I am sure your superiors will be thrilled to learn that, and so I’ll leave the reprimands to their capable hands, as my time is too precious for that. Our arrangement called for ten spellblades, and you have, whether knowingly or not, eliminated one of them from service by your own hand and so I have had to call for another.”
Oh. That certainly complicated this situation. D was going to have this unlucky sod as a living reminder of his brash and uncharacteristic behavior, which was likely to result in a black mark on his record upon his return to the Capital. Rogier pitied whatever fool they’d send in Callium’s place.
“Preceptor Rogier, I’m sending you in Callium’s place. Your courses will be divided among the faculty, so don’t worry over that.” Oh yes. That’s what he was worried about, wasn’t it? The lectures and poorly written essays he’d miss out on grading, not the dragon-sized elephant in the room that his miraculously stupid mouth kissed back into being. “You may wish to consult with each other about what preparations you ought to be making for this assignment. But do remember you are a representative of an esteemed Academy...not some ruffian out for a game of fisticuffs.” The last was aimed at D, who was undoubtedly as blindsided as Rogier and so totally oblivious.
Rogier smiled and graciously accepted the provost’s decision, all the while screaming internally and damning the stars for drawing the path of greatest resistance through the heavens the day he was born.
#1.8k words#idk how much you are supposed to share so sorry if that is too much#d/rogier#sorcerer rogier#d hunter of the dead#elden ring fic
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Joker: Time for plan G.
Tara: Don't you mean plan B?
Joker: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.
Mindy: What about plan D?
Joker: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.
Chad: What about plan E?
Joker: I'm hoping not to use it. I die in plan E.
Sam: I like plan E.
They all share one singular braincell
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trying again since I failed the first time.
Daisy Tonner as a regressor? If you want.
Regressor Daisy Tonner Headcanons!
so. pretty sure we can all guess why daisy regresses. why does this show traumatize them all so young akwkxkanfsna
daisy usually regresses on a bit of a wide scale, anywhere from 2-10, sometimes not specific enough of an age label. she just feels *small* and its enough to calm her down
usually the younger she feels, the farther away she feels from the hunt. if she's at the youngest end of her regression age, she doesn't feel those urges and she can actually relax
needless to say, elias really doesn't like her regression because it makes her effectively useless to him when he needs someone taken care of (with bullets or fists)
basira is her cg, of course. she found out about daisy's regression pretty early on when they worked together in the police
daisy trusts basira basically blindly, especially when she's regressed very small
daisy lovesssss going to the park. she can run around, slide, swing, play on all the equipment, so long as basira keeps an eye on her because she gets scared to play if basira isn't watching
shes pretty scared of herself and who she becomes when she's regressed, which...is hard to handle. lots of shed tears, lots of attempts at comfort, lots of crying herself to sleep
daisy loves sweets, and she will sniff them out wherever basira hides them. she knows she isn't allowed to have too many, but she does not care. basira has absolutely found daisy with a bottle of pancake syrup, drinking it like its a sippy cup, on more than one occasion
playdates with jon? playdates with jon
at first neither of them get along and playdates are not really allowed because basira thinks daisy will still kill jon, but after a while when they become Trauma Buddies, yeahhh playdates are fine
(in this world polychives is a go shhhh its not important to daisy)
basira gets pics sometimes of just. daisy and jon napping together from tim or martin or sasha, and its so sweet. she has also gotten pics of daisy picking jon up, or of them petting street cats
there is also video evidence of these two having. maybe one singular braincell to share...they spent maybe half an hour one day just running and jumping onto the sofa in the archives. just yeeting themselves at it and laughing their heads off (it was daisy's idea)
i love the idea of daisy's main nicknames being pup and sugar. she gets called all the regular ones (baby, kiddo, sweetheart, etc) but pup and sugar are her faves
no cg name for basira, daisy's too shy for that. her name just usually comes out more as 'sira when daisy's small
i did not know i had so many opinions on regressor daisy alzkecjanxbrh i'd never considered it but now i'm in love
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As the anon who talked about the spit kink.... I didn't realise we were all the same person 😂
isn't lovely that we all share one singular (1) braincell <33
#but seriously you were a genius for that ask#i never even thought about dave with a spit kink until then#and you quite literally changed my life LOL#dave mustaine#dave mustaine smut#asks
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Hi so I found out that the Rise fandom shares a singular braincell(affectionate)
Because a month or so ago, I had a thought for a Rottmnt au where the turtles are separated. I’m working on designs for them, I check tumblr as a break, and I see at least a dozen AUs with this same core concept.
Not complaining tho, I do enjoy seeing where people go with this concept we all apparently thought of. It’s very cool, especially when minor concepts overlap but are still distinctly different. It’s awesome to see!
But that’s beside the point, the premise of my separated au is
What if Draxum tried to take the turtles back from Splinter?
The au revolves around the disaster twins trying to find their 2 missing brothers in the hidden city.
Their father tasked them with it, but their brothers are something they’ve always wondered about and hoped to some day meet. April is still the twos friend, and she is determined to come with them. So they set out with their fathers city key, and look for the first place their father said to check, the lab of Baron Draxum.
Here’s some basic info for the characters:
Leonardo
Same cocky asshole(I love him, dw) as ever, it’s still a mask for his insecurities. He just only has Donnie to annoy, for now.
He fears that he’s not useful enough for his family, being that Donnie is the smart one, Leo’s not that strong, and these feelings only get worse after seeing what his other brothers can do.
Time for hcs
Gender: Trans boy
Sexuality: Gay
Pronouns: he/him
Donatello
Still has a affinity for all kinds of science, and has even worse issues with his own self worth than his canon version. He tolerates Nardo, barely.
He feels like he can only be of use for his inventions, and worries that if he asks for help, he is being a burden. Like his twin, his insecurities are multiplied after meeting his other brothers
On a lighter note, hcs~
Gender:Nonbinary
Sexuality: Ace/aro
Pronouns: they/he
Michelangelo
Big Mamas child and assistant, he is much stronger than he looks.
Is known as Tang Yoshie(explanation in small text)
(I realized that Draxum probably wouldn’t know, or care, about what Splinter called the turtles, so I had to make new names for him and “Raph”. Tang is the last name bc of the theory by @roninreverie, the point that’s relevant to this post is that big mama either is Tang Shen, or replaced her. + I’m not calling Him Big or Mama, it’s funny, but no. Yoshie is his first name bc it can translate to “Good Painting”(it fits bc he’s a creative), and it’s splinter’s real name. She obviously still has feelings for him.)
Have some Hcs
Gender: Genderfluid
Sexuality: Pan/Ace
Pronouns: Any
Raphael
The right hand Son of Baron Draxum. He is a skilled fighter, and the champion of the battle nexus.
Named Baron Takeo(explanation in small text)
(Baron is the last name bc everyone refers to Baron Draxum as Draxum, so I assume Baron is the last name. Takeo is the first name bc it can mean “military/martial hero”(fits bc Draxum wanted to use the turtles as soldiers), and it has a strong and bold sound, which fits for his character.)
Have some hcs
Gender: cis boy
Sexuality: Bisexual
Pronouns: he/him
In the au they meet Raph first, since they destroy Draxums lab in the first episode still, and Takeo lives with him. They meet Mikey second, but don’t realize it’s actually him at first bc he’s wearing a cloaking Broach.
Will there be leosagi? Maybe. Will there be Shellshocked? Also maybe, but more likely than leosagi. RaMona? Probably, I like the dynamic they had in 2012.
#Rottmnt#rottmnt au#seperated au#Rottmnt!Brothers Divided#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt leo#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt raph
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PROPAGANDA:
The Bad Boys:
They were so entertaining to watch. All of them share one singular braincell and they keep losing it. They couldn’t even keep Jimmy alive.
They’re goofy little guys! Who doesn’t love them! Have you seen any clips?! Plus, ladder talk podcast. Iconic. One of a kind. Never been done before. The hijinks! The tragic ending! They’re very much the best bad boys on the internet
They’re each a lil dumb but put them together and they get so much stupider, it’s wild. We love irl pals who work together and are terrible influences on one another. They actively build a brand of mutual bullying, true friendship <3
they are everything, they are sunshine and love and nonsense and digging straight down, they stay loyal the whole time and are messes without each other!
“Bad boys bad boys whatcha gonna do, watch’s gonna do when they come for you”.
Revengers:
I just think the dynamic of Tubbo teaming up with his two past murderers to rescue his and his late husband's son is really funny Especially him making up with Techno and kinda forgiving him for the execution but also dunking on Eret for the final control room I just think seeing more of them would have been cool, seeing them grow from there and maybe have Eret and Tubbo make up as well (though I also haven't seen a lot of the post-jailbreak lore, I joined the fandom late and piecing everything together is hard, so maybe there is more that I haven't seen yet)
Their rage <3
I love them so much I wish there was more content of them
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Diver Down (Part 1)
The unholy trinity is almost complete. Not gonna spoil the big surprise for the second part, but oh boy, its a doozie.
And yeah, just so everyone who sees this is on the same page with what “the unholy trinity” means, um...I’m hyper fixating on Beavis and Butt-Head. Yeah. Beavis gets to be the pred this time.
****
“Nrrrrrngh-where the hell are they?” Todd Lanuzzi angrily grumbled whilst impatiently tapping his foot. “They should’ve been here at least like, fifteen minutes ago!”
“Who the hell are you talking about?” Daria Morgendorffer softly murmured to Todd while picking a couple of brownies off the snack table and placing them onto a small styrofoam plate she was holding.
“I specifically instructed those two clowns Beavis and Butt-Head to show up today in actual clown outfits! I told them that the chicks dig that kind of shit!”
To Todd’s oddly particular admission, Daria could only roll her eyes. “Do you really think they’re that dumb?”
Todd raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yes.”
“Well, whether or not you’re correct, it really doesn't matter.” Daria continued on. “October thirty first is one of their favorite days of the year because they can just go around the town snatching up all those ‘take one’ baskets all night, so what makes you think they’d even bother to show up to Highland’s Halloween party anyway?”
The party in question was taking place on the school’s lawn area at its front. There were foldable tables set out for a buffet stuffed chalk-full of any and all kinds of snacks and candy you can imagine, and a makeshift stage set up with large speakers and a DJ so students and faculty alike could rock on all night.
“They got those kinds of baskets here, too, right? Plus a whole bunch more.”
“Yes…… but you know who else is here, right? I don't really know if they’ll even be comfortable showing up with that guy around.” Daria eventually retorted, pointing a ways over towards Coach Buzzcut, who had shown up tonight in his old military uniform and had mainly just spent all his time screeching relentlessly at all the partygoers trying to sneak in booze.
“Eh, good point.” Todd at last conceded while placing a finger under his currently rather boney chin. He had come to the party wearing a full custom plastic skeletal exoskeleton, and at the end of the night, was planning on setting fire to the headpiece so he could drive around the town looking like an actual flaming skeleton on a motorcycle. Daria, meanwhile, hadn’t even bothered with a costume, as she knew she would get free snacks either way. “Well I mean I guess there really isn’t anything I can do about it at this point other than-”
“...Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh…”
“...Hehehehehehehehe…”
“...Ugh…nevermind. There they are now.”
Daria swiftly turned to look to where Todd was pointing, only for her brow to almost instantly furrow in considerable confusion of what the hell she was even seeing. Beavis and Butt-Head meanwhile, were slowly making their way up to Todd, who seemed to be just as confused as Daria was, without so much as a single worry in their singular shared braincell at all. So confused were Todd and Daria at the current spectacle, however, that by the time the two troublesome teens did make it up to the rebellious gang member, he wasn’t even able to say anything.
“Hey, how’s it goin’?” Beavis casually asked.
“Uhuhuhuh…hey look, its diarrhea.” Butt-Head stated while glancing over at Daria.
After a few seconds of just standing there awkwardly and staring, though, Todd eventually managed to shake his head a few times before scowling slightly and finally opening up his mouth to speak.
“Okay, first of all, what?” was all he ended up saying, however.
“Uh…so like, we couldn’t find any clown outfits, so instead we just like, got out an orange shirt and turned Beavis into the fish or something.” Butt-Head casually responded.
“Hehehe. Yeah. We like, snuck into Tom Anderson’s shed to steal some white paint. Hehehehe.” Beavis added on.
Upon at last realizing just how oblivious the two infamously iditoic teens were to the entire situation, Todd began to furiously bunch up his fist and growl, before releasing all of his pent-up frustration in a drawn-on, aggressive rant.
“THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU NUMB-SKULL! YOU COULDN’T FIND ANYTHING FOR A CLOWN OUTFIT, BUT YOU MANAGED TO FIND A FULL-ASS INTACT DIVER SUIT WITH THE OXYGEN TANK, GOGGLES, AND ALL, JUST LYING AROUND IN YOUR HOUSE SOMEWHERE? IT EVEN SEEMS TO FIT ON YOU PERFECTLY! HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPLAIN THAT ONE, BEAVER AND BUTT-PLUG?”
Todd was naturally expecting Beavis and Butt-Head to get rather intimidated by all of Todd’s yelling, but to the aggressive gang member’s considerable frustration, the both of them just stood there for a few seconds continuously giggling away like the idiots they are, before Butt-Head eventually spoke up once more.
“Uh, yeah. We saw it at the dump, you dumbass.”
Upon hearing the word “dump” Daria almost jolted slightly from shock, instantly raised an eyebrow, and leaped into the conversation almost immediately, as she was now considerably concerned.
“I’m sorry, did you just say the word dump?”
“Uh…..yeah. Dump. Beavis took a huge one just before we came, huhuhuhuh.”
“Hehehehe! Yeah! You should’ve like, seen it and stuff! It was HUGE!”
Daria sighed and rolled her eyes. She knew that it was probably no use trying to explain to the boys that they had mixed up homonyms, as, in all likelihood, neither of them even knew what a homonym was, and as a result, she just decided to cut straight to the point with them.
“Did you even bother to wash that diver’s suit off before you put it on? You do realize how many germs you could be putting directly in your mouth if you use the mouthpiece before a thorough cleaning, right? And how do you even know the oxygen tank works? That’s just a downright safety hazard! You can’t just pull out what appears to be a perfectly good diver’s suit from a pile of trash and not expect there to be any sort of catch! I mean those things are expensive, so the previous owner must have had a reason for throwing the suit away, right?”
Daria wasn’t expecting much of a response from Beavis and Butt-Head, but upon realizing that her little monologue may or may not have just caused their brains to crash, Daria just placed a hand on her forehead, shook her head a few times, and just simply waited for a response.
“Uhhhhhhhhh, what the hell are ‘germs’?”
It was at this point that Daria just completely gave up. “........forget I said anything. Just…go and enjoy the party, I guess.”
“Uhhhhhhhhh…..ok. Huhuhuhuhuhuh. This is gonna be cool.”
“Hehehehe! Yeah, Butt-Head! There’s gonna be like, chicks, and they’ll see I’m a clown, and then…and then I’m gonna score! Can you believe it, Butt-Head? OW!”
“Uhuhuhuh, Shut up, Beavis! Todd said chicks only like regular clowns!”
“Oh…uh…yeah. That’s right. Yeah that’s right. Hehehehehe.”
“Yeah you’re not gonna score, dumbass. I probably will though.”
“No way, Butt-Head! You’re just gonna keep on spanking your monkey all your life!”
“Uhuhuhuh, no I’m not!”
“Yes you are!”
“No I’m not!”
“Yes you are- OW!”
“SHUT UP, BEAVIS! YES I TOTALLY AM!”
“AHA! SO YOU ARE JUST GONNA SPANK YOUR MONKEY AND NEVER GET ANY CHICKS!”
“WHAT? NO! I-”
Almost immediately turning his back towards Todd and Daria as both he and Beavis made their way off into the crowd, Butt-Head continued to o so casually flop around in the diver suit’s flippers while carrying the helmet and goggles underneath his left arm.
For a while, neither Todd nor Daria had any idea what to think about what they had just witnessed, before Todd eventually just shook his head and let out a great, deep, sigh.
“Uuuugh……. Well, it seems you were right, Daria. I did underestimate them after all.”
“What are you talking about? I never said-”
. “Underestimate their stupidity, that is.”
“Oh, you were yourself up for a joke. I get it now.”
****
At first, both Beavis and Butt-Head had wanderd over to the stage, expecting for them to take song requests for rock metal. Unfortunately for them, although the DJ did, indeed, take requests, for some strange reason that just seemed completely outside of the two boys’ mental capacity to conceive, the DJ refused to play rock metal, and both of the boys had stormed out of the dance area rather disappointed as such.
“This sucks. Why won’t they play any good music?” Butt-Head complained to Beavis as they were leaving.
“Yeah, yeah, all they’ve got is that dumb, stupid radio music. Who the hell listens to radio anyway?” Beavis angrily grumbled back in agreement.
“Clearly, they’re just not as sophisticated as we are, when it comes to the fine arts.”
“Heheh. Yeah, clearly. Fine arts. Fine arts-FARTS! Hehehhh! Farts…hey look, Butt-Head! Nachos!”
It was only, somehow, at this point that the two troublesome teens finally noticed the snack tables. The one they were currently standing by was the “main course” table, consisting of plenty of dinner items, including freshly cooked hot dogs and hamburgers coming straight off of nearby grills, as well as a few boxes of pizza that had been ordered by the school beforehand, but none of that really mattered to the boys. Instead, all that did was the two gigantic bowls in front of them. Once containing nacho chips, and one containing nacho cheese.
“Huhuhuhuhuh. This is gonna be cool.” Butt-Head calmly stated while Beavis began to drool uncontrollably. “So if I like, shrink down and stuff, I can like, swim in the cheese. Uhuhuhuh that’s cool.”
Beavis, taking a second to bring his anticipation-jittery body to a halt, swiftly turned towards Butt-Head and gave him a bit of a confused look as his brown-haired friend slipped the helmet and goggles over his head.
“But then you won’t be able to grab the nachos!”
“You can like, bring the nachos over to me, you dumbass.”
“Oh. Yeah. I can. Hehehe. That’s right.”
Butt-Head thus proceeded to think (which usually never ends well for these two) as to what the best way to approach the situation was. If he shrunk right now he would just end on the grass, after all.
“Uhhhh….” he eventually called out to Beavis. “I gotta like, get up on the table and stuff.”
As such, Butt-Head, slowly and rather quite awkwardly, attempted to bring a flipper-covered foot up and center it onto the party’s buffet stand, accidentally knocking off a plate of hot dogs as he did so. Once he had gotten one flipper up, he tried to bring up the other, but almost immediately lost his balance, causing the flipper on the table to knock over a couple of drinks, spilling them onto his face and hair as he lay flat (well, as flat as was possible with the oxygen tank on his back, but still), flat nonetheless.
“This sucks. Uhuhuhuh. Why don’t you just get me up there?”
“Get you up there?” Beavis retorted back. “But you’re-oh.”
Seeing that Butt-Head had ultimately decided to just shrink himself down while still on the ground, Beavis casually bent down to pick up the tiny diver in his hand, before placing him down inside the bowl of nacho cheese. Butt-Head’s flippers were barely able to generate enough force to keep him above the cheese instead of sinking down into it, but he still managed.
Beavis did still remember he had to get Butt-Head some chips, so he brought the nahco chip bowl a little closer to the cheese bowl and knocked a few inside the way you would when trying to gather kitchen table crumbs in your hand so you can throw them away.
“There ya go, But-Head, heheheh.”
Butt-Head continued to swim over to one of the large chips as a result, and break off a piece before dipping it in the cheese and finally popping it in his mouth. It was only then, right then and there at long, long last, that he realized just how good of nachos these really were.
“Beavis…” he slowly spoke while turning to face his now much larger, equally nahco-obsessed companion. “Let’s eat.”
The resulting scene that followed next could only be described by an onlooker, as, well, a massacre. A massacre upon the very same nachos that had once existed within the now empty bowl, and one that nobody who was unfortunate enough to accidentally gaze upon, would ever be able to get out of their brain.
Beavis had all but dumped the entirety of the nacho chips into the cheese bowl at this point, and with his little buddy swimming around in the nacho sauce and chowing down on smaller portions of the chips and cheese as well, there was pretty much nothing in the blonde-haired teen’s way that would prevent him from positively going to town.
Thus, as he continued to mow through the chips like a starving hyena does to carrion, Beavis’ consciousness would eventually begin to tap out of reality, as his brain began to rely upon his instincts only, and his instincts were indeed telling him to continue wolfing the nachos down. Losing more and more conscious concentration and comprehension as more as more and more chewed up nacho globs got shoved down his throat, Beavis’ hands and jaws continued to move faster, and faster, and faster, until to the poor, horrified onlooker, his nacho consuming speed became almost that of inhuman. Yet still, he pushed on, shoveling handful after handful of nacho chips and sauce into his tight, salivating maw, and gulping down glob after glob, the bulges almost visible from the outside, only undetectable by a spectator due to the speed at which the teen was moving.
As Beavis’ now only semi-conscious being started spontaneously shaking and sputtering, nacho mush began to froth out from his mouth. He shakily raised up both his arms at a ninety degree angle, before at last turning away from the table, taking a couple steps, and aimlessly wandering away from the now empty nacho bowl, babbling nonsensically all the while. Eventually, however, Beavis would make his way over to the desert table, and it was at that point that his body just could not hold it in any second more. Stuttering rapidly whilst bringing his shirt collar over his head, Beavis, in a positively enthralled, enfixed trance, sprinted wildly over to a gigantic plate of brownies, before aggressively snarling out towards anyone in the near vicinity who may even attempt to snag up one of the precious baked goods, and yowling one single phrase into the moonlit night, proceeding to go to town on the brownies, in almost the same way he did the nachos, but a single second later.
“I AM THE ONE AND ONLY ALMIGHTY CORNHOLIO! YOU WILL BOW DOWN TO THE ALMIGHTY BUNGHOLIO!”
****
You’ve probably begun wondering at this point, what exactly happened to Butt-Head now? Well, it would indeed be doing this story a great disservice if I did not start all the way back at the beginning, so for the sake of us all, and for that exact reason, back to the nacho bowls we will now go.
“Uhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh this is cool.” Butt-Head just couldn’t help but chuckle out despite currently having the mouthpiece placed between his teeth and lips. He had dived pretty much all the way down to the bottom of the bowl at this point and, naturally, all he could see through his goggles was cheese. He was able to touch down somewhere at the bottom, but aside from the occasional chip that had for one reason or another sunk to or was near to said bottom, there really wasn’t much else to see inside the thick, orange-yellow lake of nacho cheese other than, well, just that. Cheese. As such, Butt-Head eventually decided to just simply resurface but a few seconds later, launching himself up from the floor with his flippers in an almost leap-like motion.
When he at last breached the top layer of the cheese, he swiftly took out the mouthpiece so he would be able to relay his little expedition onto his currently much larger friend, Beavis, only for his habitually rather narrowed eyes to widen considerably upon bearing witness to Beavis’ current state of being; which was, of course, his monstrously inconceivable, downright inhuman nacho consuming speed.
“Woah…” he called out to the obsessively-focused giant before him. “Cool! Uhuhuhuhuhuh.”
Upon suddenly becoming fixated upon Beavis’ hyperactive eating from an angle he had never really gotten to see before, Butt-Head began to casually tread over to the middle of the bowl, in order to get a better view. However, although he was lacking in the necessary brain power in order to consciously make the realization, there was indeed something that lurked deep down inside the cobwebbed shadows of the brown haired teen’s brain, that positively shrieked to the unreachable conscious how stupid of an idea this really was. Unfortunately for Butt-Head though, the opportunity to escape the results of swimming over to the middle, was already long gone.
It only went by in a few seconds, but upon slowing the moment down, one may be able to see exactly what transpired. Butt-Head himself wasn’t able to tell what was happening due to the speed at which it, well, happened, but as Beavis’ cheese-slathered, positively filthy, dripping fingers plunged back into the bowl for yet another round of deliciousness, he just happened to end up rather effortlessly scooping up But-Head along with it, instantly slinging the shrunken teen past his lips and teeth, and consequently into his maw. Butt-Head immediately splattered face-first onto an already chewed up wad of chips and cheese, barely managing to dodge getting crushed between the viciously gnashing jaws, before Beavis’ tongue was raised, shoving both the food glob and Butt-Head towards the entrance of his throat.The now completely and utterly reality-detached teen did a sort of half-somersault as he flew through the air, his head scraping upon the rough ridges at the roof of Beavis’ maw, before his body struck against the uvula but a single second later, and he landed head-first into the gullet, which wasted absolutely zero time gulping the still perceptually incapable teen down along with the all the actual food around him, causing much of the goop to get squeezed and squelched in by his sides as the throat muscles were forced to work overtime with all of the shit that the blonde haired teen had forced down into it in such a short amount of time.
There would swiftly come another gulp as a considerable out of nacho cheese and chip mush got dumped straight onto the shrunken teen within as he continued to slide down the rhythmically compressing, slick walls of the throat. Eventually, however, Beavis’ rapidly pulsing heart rate would become audible, though not to Butt-Head of course, since he was still completely and utterly unable to process, well, anything that was happening around him; but at last, a few echoing gurgles emulated from deep within the churning chamber within, as it had already been delivered a gigantic amount of food so far.
Getting squeezed through the lower esophageal sphincter at last, Butt-Head made a splashdown deep into the considerably risen and mush-filled chamber of his lifelong best friend’s stomach, as his still downright stunned consciousness tried desperately to piece together what in the name of feces just happened. I mean, he could see what was currently around him, that much was true, but…what was all of it, exactly?
Eventually, as But-Head hadn’t yet moved from his position standing straight and staring at the shifting, smooth walls, yet another bout of chewed up food got slathered upon his being, almost getting inside of his own mouth as such, an action which, somehow, would end up becoming the one singular action that was finally needed for Butt-Head’s brain to start working again. (Not like it worked at all in the first place, but you get what I mean.)
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……” he thus began to drone out. “Woah!”
Taking a bit of a pause before speaking again, Butt–Head simply began to look around. The area in question was indeed composed of smooth, gloopy, shifting walls that lapsed up against an ever mixing pool of what could have once been described as nachos, within its confines. The liquids had risen up to Butt-Head’s waist area at this point, and though they seemed to have no trouble at all breaking down the food particles and dissolving them into mush, they seemed to have no effect at all on Butt-Head, though this may have almost definitely had something to do with the fact that he was indeed still wearing the diving suit.
“I think Beavis ate me. Uhuhuhuhuhuh. That’s cool.”
As a result, there was to be a relatively short period of time where Butt-Head merley stood there entranced, staring intently at the ever gurgling organ as it continued to do its job, not even minding all the nacho slop falling down onto his head. He let himself take in the chamber’s natural warmth and ambiance, listening closely to the semi-constant glorping and grumbling noises as the liquids continued to churn.
“Uhuhuhuhuhuh.” he continued to absentmindedly chuckle. “What else is down here?”
[TO BE CONTINUED]
#soft vore#safe vore#unaware vore#unaware pred#willing prey#foodplay#accidental vore#gt vore#g/t vore#human pred#human prey#male pred#male prey#m/m vore#male predador#male vore#v.ore#v/ore#v0re#vor3#v0r3#vore story#vore stories#vore writing#vore fic#semi willing prey
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Leaked photos from the writers room!
[ID: Will w/ drawn on heart eyes, labeled "*looking at his boys*" , Micheal and Mikhail on stage singing never ending story. : end ID]
[ID: Tiny drawing of Micheal screaming. Speech bubble says : He's a spy! He looks like me!" : end ID]
[ID: text besides the drawing says "emphasizing the cheekbones like Will would want. " the drawing is a peephole of Mikhail with his hair in the wind and emphasized cheekbones. : end ID]
[ID: Will (left) is wearing Mikhail's sweater and holding an ice cream come. He is smiling up at Mikhail(right). Mikhail had on a Blazer which slightly blocks the text on his t-shirt "Not a spy" he is holding out his ice cream to Will. The speech bubble says "trade?"
[ID: Comment by @officialrobinbuckley which says "okay now what i love to see in those incorrect quotes is really their bonds, Mikhail and Mike ARE friends and totally chaotic ones ngl then we have sunshine Will who is also fucking chaotic in his own way and they share all three one singular braincell now i want to drew them doing stupid stuff and being friends with the party in the back trying to figure if Mikhail is a spy or not" : end ID]
#i picked up a literal pencil for my silly little drawings#excuse my photography#willhail#mikhailgate
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glad to see we all have kalpas on our minds 24/7, truly shows how the entire kalpas community™ share a singular braincell
anyways to answer other herrscher anon's question,, definitely herrscher of stars, mostly because im obsessed with constellations and the stars and space in general,, but other than that,, HoHE mainly because the design is 🛐🛐🛐 and i really like the moveset and skills so 👍👍👍
- herrscher anon (are we surprised that I'd love to be a herrscher of the stars? no, because other than kalpas i have HoTS!reader constantly on my mind)
kalpas on the mind, all is well lol
someone in the Kalpas community TM needs to lend me the braincell pls
I was definitely one of those kids in elementary school that would not shut up about space lol HoH is v pretty tho her eyes kinda spook me ngl
#herrscher anon!! 🧡🧡#i am sitting at work doing nothing byt i cant do any hw or write bc it's work pleas send help#i know nothing about constellations#i should learn lol
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