#buried underneath a thin and confusing as hell metaphor

[shitty-davesprite-daily]

dude

I think you needa get those wings clean

All that stuff in em can't be comfortable

TG: it TG: okay yeah actually its hella uncomfortable TG: but man theyre giant ass feathery pieces of shit theyre gonna be uncomfortable as fuck either way right TG: and like TG: cant just clean them TG: that shits mad embarrassing dude TG: just because im 'bird dave' doesnt mean i gotta be BIRD dave yfeel me TG: fuck man i start TG: god whatd the anon call it TG: fuckinn preening or whatever TG: i start doing that and i might as well just be sitting in a goddamn nest screaming for momma bird to come puke some worms and shit into my little pathetic ass mouth TG: because fuck man you cant expect a guy to feed HIMSELF what the hell do you think this is some rundown ten bucks a plate all you can eat buffet with just the saddest lookin goddamn lettuce youve ever seen in your life TG: sitting there in the salad bar all wilted and pathetic under the flourescent lights knowing its gonna be the last kid picked for the dodgeball team TG: nah son this is a five star dining experience and i aint expecting anything less. if i have to chew my food thats a goddamn crime and getting it myself?? might as well just throw me out of the nest now because fuck if im living in a world where i gotta handle myself TG: this shits all on momma bird my only job is to kick back and take them worms TG: except tough shit junior momma bird dont exist and poppa bird flew off to get bird cigs and never came back TG: so its like TG: well fuck man either you just sit there and rot or figure out how to fly your dumb feathery ass down there and start diggin up worms so you dont starve to death TG: and you better be a fast learner because theres a whole world of asshole birds twice your size thatll kick your feathery ass for those sweet sweet worms and if you dont figure out how to dodge em you sure as hell better learn how to fight because they really want those worms TG: sorry about that junior. no sittin around like the other baby birds getting worms on a silver spoon for you you gotta earn that shit TG: ... TG: point being TG: im not just gonna fuckin do bird shit right. thats hella cliche TG: and fuck that noise

#davesprite #homestuck #shitty davesprite daily #bdhallowstuck #//being drunk and being physically incapable of shutting up - name a better combo for accidentally spilling childhood trauma #buried underneath a thin and confusing as hell metaphor

[sandysmoved]

Finally finished some lewvithur thank god

Here have an ao3 link if that’s what you’d prefer

I’ve got the first few paragraphs of the prequel to this waiting for me to get my shit together so maybe that’ll see the light of day eventually but anyways enjoy some soft sad kids

Against the brilliant and sterile white of the pillow underneath his messy blonde hair, it was so much easier to see just how pale Arthur was, which in turn made the sickly grey circles under his tightly shut eyes even darker. Even worse, the way the thin sheet clung to his softly shuddering frame, it was impossible to miss how thin he was, how absolutely tiny, how frail he seemed. Laid out on a hospital bed, tucked away in a corner and hooked up to so much equipment, he looked…

Lewis tried to banish the thought with a shake of his incorporeal head, but it lingered like the afterimage of a flash bulb.

Arthur looked like he was dying.

Lewis flinched at the rough, humorless “heh” from his left, and glanced down at Vivi as she rubbed Arthur’s right hand, careful to avoid disturbing the IV lines tucked under paper skin, like a prayer stone. “You think this looks bad,” she murmured, reaching up to swipe at a few stray tears darting down her cheek, “but he’s been worse. You should’ve seen him...should’ve seen what happened after the cave.”

Lewis couldn’t keep the black pits of his eyes from drifting across Arthur’s shallowly twitching chest to his left shoulder. The blanket dropped immediately at his side, the soft cotton barely concealing what he now knew to be a cold steel dock embedded in scarred and tender flesh. The metal arm that hooked into the implant was discarded on a nearby counter, occasionally sparking uselessly, dented and crumpled and shredded in the fall.

God, Lewis hadn’t even noticed it at first, but now he couldn’t tear his gaze from the empty space where his last spot of contact as a living, breathing human used to be.

“He stopped breathing a few times on the table,” Vivi murmured, and Lewis felt his dim, cracked anchor jolt as she continued.

“Died several times,” she whispered in a daze. “Almost lost him too.”

“Vivi…”

She choked out a bitter laugh in spite of herself. “And the worst part? I wasn’t so scared of him dying. I was…”

She carefully sat Arthur’s cool hand back down on the soft sheets, then removed her glasses, wiping her eyes and rubbing her temple. “...I was scared I’d forget him too.”

Lewis dropped to his knees as Vivi choked out a sob, and she let him pull her into his arms. She pressed her wet face into his broad chest and heaved, her heartbroken wails periodically drowning out his frantic, shuddering I’m sorry Vivi I’m so sorry I didn’t know I didn’t think I made a mistake I’m so sorry I didn’t want this I made a mistake -

It hadn’t taken too long for Vivi to fall into an exhausted, fitful sleep, and Lewis c a r e f u l l y lifted her up, crossing the room without a single step to gently lay her down on the visitors couch. Mystery emerged from underneath, hopping up to curl up against his mistress’s side and whining as Lewis bent down to scratch him behind his ears.

“She’s right. He coded several times the first few days. If we had gotten him to the hospital any later than we did…”

The disguised kitsune trailed off with a mournful whimper, and Lewis could feel his heart breaking. “It wasn’t your fault. If you hadn’t done it-“

Mystery looked him in the eye, his too-human voice soft, but steady and packed with emotion. “But it wasn’t his fault either, Lewis.”

Black emptiness and magenta rings clouded over with shimmery pink tears, and Lewis nodded. “Yeah,” he choked out, “I know that now.”

~*~

Vivi and Mystery were still curled up fitfully on the couch, and every gentle sound from them made Lewis jolt in the chair, struck from his grief stricken fugue state. Each time he glanced at the wasting figure in the bed, metaphorical heart fluttering in hope, but each time he was forced to come to terms with the fact that Arthur still wasn’t awake.

Despite the reassurances from the medical staff that his injuries weren’t as bad as they seemed, Lewis was honestly starting to wonder if he ever would be awake again. Hell, if he wasn’t looking close enough for the faint rise and fall of his chest, wasn’t clinging to a hand that occasionally twitched in his grasp, he could be easily convinced that Arthur was already gone, lost to the world forever.

All because of him. Him and his stupid mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, faint words tumbling like pebbles from an illusory frown, “I’m so sorry Arthur.”

He gently lifted Arthur’s hand, carefully pressing his conjured lips against his bruised knuckles. “I’m so,” he choked, holding the calloused hand in both of his as he shuddered in grief and guilt, “I’m so sorry-!”

“Llllewis?”

The ghost jolted, eyes darting to the side, expecting to see Vivi rubbing sleep out of her eyes, but...she remained asleep on the couch, twitching and scrunching up her face in response to an unseen specter of the dream world.

“Llll...Lewis.”

His anchor stilled as the realization hit him, and at the same time the cool digits trapped between his own bony fingers twitched. Lewis glanced back at the bed, blinking furiously to clear the pink-tinted distortion of new tears springing from the empty sockets.

Under bruised, heavy lids, two foggy rings of amber met his own gaze. Arthur drew in a shaky, pained breath, one injured lung protesting the exertion, but he still managed to force an exhausted smile as he wheezed.

“I...I found you, Lew.”

Lewis stared at him like a damned soul finding salvation, and managed a weak, relieved chuckle as he reached out to brush away a stray tear that had slipped out onto Arthur’s cheek. “Y-yeah Arthur. You did it. You found me.”

Arthur leaned into the touch with a contented sigh, and both men flinched a bit at the sudden stunned inhale from behind Lewis. Vivi sat up so fast she almost knocked a startled Mystery off the couch, and she blinked behind her pink lenses, trying to confirm what she was seeing. “Arthur?”

The mechanic smiled, and tilted his head lightly in Lewis’s direction. “H-hey Vivi, look...I found him.”

With a loud, delighted sob of laughter, Vivi scrambled off the couch, hurrying to Arthur’s bedside and throwing her arms around his shoulder. He winced a little at the impact, but sank into the embrace as she buried her face into his neck, laughing and crying and shaking as she held him. He carefully turned his head as she tilted up to press frenzied, ecstatic kisses against his cheek, managing a weak laugh until he found himself suddenly face to face with-

“L-Lewis?”

The ghost was smiling through his tears, only inches away from Arthur’s face, and slowly leaned in to press his own gentle kiss against the smaller man’s forehead. Arthur let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and Lewis drew back to press their foreheads against each other, closing his eyes and letting his anchor fall into the same soft rhythm as Arthur’s heartbeat.

“M-missed you, big guy.”

“Yeah,” Lewis whispered, one hand still holding his own and the other reaching across to cup Vivi’s tearstained cheek, “I missed you too.”

The hospital bed shifted as Mystery hopped up to drape himself across Arthur’s legs and resume his rest, and before long, the others joined him, Vivi pulling a chair closer to wrap her arms around Arthur’s side as she fell asleep directly above the lullaby of his beating heart. Arthur’s fought to keep his eyes open, desperate to hold on to this quiet moment of togetherness after so many months of confusion and separation.

“Lewis,” he choked out shakily, trembling as the ghost ran one bony hand through his mess of blonde locks.

“Hey,” Lewis murmured in Arthur’s ear, “it’s alright. Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

His words were like a spell, and Arthur’s battered frame went still almost immediately. With a soft sigh, he finally closed his eyes, weakly leaning against Lewis’s forehead as he drifted off.

For the first time in months, the nightmares of a sickly green cave and violet flames kept their distance.

#mystery skulls animated #mystery skulls #lewvithur #hellbent #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #vivi yukino #mystery #my writing #god i love these losers

[scintillating-galaxias]

this doesn’t have the exact quote in it, but it gets close + it’s based around it :0 thank you for submitting this, it was a lot of fun to write this!! ( @rvbficwars )

A vampire being hunted by a fairy. What a fucking joke.

He knew he was being hunted.

It felt odd, being a vampire and all, being below something in the food chain. Immortality sort of gave you that automatic assumption. Which, in Grif’s opinion, was not that far of a reach.

But he did know one thing. It sucked major donkey balls.

He takes a deep breath as he presses himself flatter against the wall. He nervously swipes his tongue across his protruding fangs, feeling how dry the feel. From somewhere in the house comes the echo of a tinkling laugh. It’s deceptively sweet, sounding like a more liquid sounding version of wind chimes tinkling in the breeze than a real laugh. That laugh had come to haunt his sleep as of late. Wholly unnecessary, really. His life was already being threatened every day. Why go all the way and ruin his rest?

“Foolish,” whispered a satin-smooth voice from the walls. Grif’s eyebrow twitches faintly. The voice had been deeper yesterday. Rougher. More human sounding rather than the literal airy-fairy tone. Was it a different fairy? Shit, were there multiple of them in here? Fuck. Shit, dick, fuck. “You cannot run from me.”

“Yeah?” Grif said confidently somewhere up to the ceiling. “You sure about that?”

The fae laughs again as he hurries around the corner, the floorboards creaking underneath him as his feet pound through the hallways. He closes his eyes, imagining the attic three floors above him, with his too-small bed covered with musty blankets, the slight chill of the air up there, the dust-covered antiques and trophies from his victims, and in the blink of an eye, he’s there.

He heaves a deep sigh and sits himself down on the bed, praying the creaking springs don’t immediately give him away again. If he’s quiet, maybe he won’t be found for just a little bit.

His hands are cold again. He blows on them and rubs them together. He must be hungrier than he thought,

“You,” whispered a voice behind him. Grif curses loudly and turns reluctantly towards the mirror, mouth dropped into a scowl. There, in the space where his reflection would be if he had one, was a handsome, pointed face, leering at him with eyes that flashed like cold gold coins in the sun.

Grif tilts his head slightly. It was the first time he had seen his face. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Maybe a more empty, glazed doll sort of schtick. But it was actually oddly nice. “You,” repeated the fae, “with no reflection. You think you are safe. You think I cannot see you.” His shining eyes caught Grif’s, and a sweet smile graced his thin lips. Grif raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“No, I don’t,” he snorted. “Literally, I knew you could see me the second you decided to trap me here with you. Which, by the way, dude, fuck you. Do you know how hungry I am?”

The fae pauses, evidently taken aback by the interruption. “I—”

“And seriously? The epithets?” Grif rolls his eyes. “Way too dramatic, dude. This isn’t some shitty fantasy novel from the 1800’s.”

“Sarge said it was the right amount of dramatic,” grumbled the fae.

“Yeah, well, Sarge doesn’t seem to realize this is the 21st century. What the fuck kind of name is Sarge anyway? Is he in the military?”

“Don’t you dare disrespect him!” squeaked the fae. It’s such a stark difference from the tone just thirty seconds earlier that Grif can’t help but burst out into startled laughter.

“What happened to your voice right there?”

“Nothing!” he snapped, face turning as red as the roots of his hair.

“Right,” Grif drawled. He settled back against the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Okay. Fine. I didn’t hear a thing. Moving on. Why am I here?”

The fae tilts his head. “In the metaphorical sense? With God?”

“No, asshole, I mean in the sense of why the fuck did you trap me here? I can’t kill you. You can’t kill me, not really. Unless you wanna watch me starve to death or some shit, which’ll take like, ten years”—that was a huge fucking lie—“and that’s just a waste of time, really, even on my terms.”

“No,” said the fae triumphantly, “I know you haven’t eaten in two weeks already. I’m surprised you’re even standing still.”

“I’m not standing,” Grif pointed out. “Also, you’re stalking me? Flattering, but not the way to woo me.”

“I wasn’t wooing you!” the fae said heatedly. “I was just gathering information about you!”

“So you were stalking me. Do you even know my name?”

The fae coughs awkwardly. “You… Look like an Evan?” he offered weakly.

“Oh hell no,” Grif said, offended. “How the fuck—Okay, whatever, gold star for effort. It’s Grif.”

“Oh.” The fae settles himself on the edge of the desk and kicks his legs out a few times. “I’m Simmons,” he said into his chest.

“Simmons,” Grif repeats. “Okay. So why’d you trap me here, Simms?”

Simmons’ elongated ears flicker down and he finds a sudden interest in the wall. “I dunno,” he muttered meekly. “Felt like it.”

“Bullshit,” said Grif immediately. Simmons shrinks back into himself even further. Maybe Grif’s eyes were deceiving him, but he physically appears to be getting smaller. It’s downright pitiable, especially compared to the creepy, genuinely terrifying front he had earlier. Grif rubs his clammy, still frigid hands together. “Okay. Let’s see. You’re a fae. You either wanted something like a trophy, or maybe gold. But you didn’t just take it and leave me alone. You went after me and didn’t touch my shit. So then you trapped me here and chased me around instead of outright attacking me.” Grif snaps his fingers. “You were lonely! So you trapped me here so I would talk to you and be your friend, right?”

Simmons gawks openly at him. “How did you…�� Shame crosses his tiny features, and he curls his knees up to bury his face in them. “It’s just that it’s happened so many times,” he said quietly, voice muffled. People come. People leave. Nobody ever tries to say hello back to me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“One, that’s because they can’t hear you dumbass, they’re humans, two, they might die if they could hear you, and three, that’s sad as shit, dude.”

“Shut up.”

“Whoa, hey, that wasn’t judgmental. I feel you. It’s lonely as hell. Humans die. Super inconvenient, right?”

“I suppose so? I’ve never had one die here. They always leave really soon after they arrive.”

Grif grunts as he pushes himself up and approaches the desk. He crouches, bringing himself eye level with Simmons. “Tell you what. You let me out of this shithole, and I promise I’ll come back to talk to you…” Grif trails off in thought. “Meh. Whenever you want, I guess. Not like I have much to do anyway.” Grif winces suddenly as a pulse of hunger rages its way through his temple. It snakes itself all the way to his jaw, and his fangs feel bigger in his mouth. “Ugh. Besides eat. So how about it?”

“Do you promise?” Simmons asked sharply, jerking his head up to look at Grif scrutinizingly. His eyes are bright again like a spark had been rekindled.

“Sure. Look.” He holds out his pinkie to Simmons. Instead of taking it, he merely stares at it in confusion. Grif sighs. “It’s a pinkie promise. It was made ‘cause if you broke the promise, the person who broke it would get their pinkie broken. No one actually uses it like that anymore, but it works good enough.”

Simmons pulls a face. “Why are humans so fucking weird?”

“Dude, I don’t know. They’ve always been like that as far as I’m concerned.” Grif wiggles his extended finger. “How about it?”

Simmons warily sticks out his own pinkie. It doesn’t take long for them to realize there was no physical way he could wrap it around Grif’s. So he settles for standing up and simply wrapping his arms around it. A shock of warmth spreads through his finger and throughout the rest of his hand. When he lets go, he leaves behind a tingling sensation. Grif stares at his hand in slight surprise before shaking his head. He must be imagining it.

“I’m gonna go find food,” he said. “Wanna come with?”

“Eugh, pass. I’ve seen you guys eat. It’s disgusting.”

“Suit yourself.” Grif waves lazily, then vanishes and reappears at the front door. He puts his hand out the open it, but stops an inch away and stares at the doorknob suspiciously. Slowly, cautiously, he puts the tip of his pinkie to it, then swings it open when it doesn’t send a searing pain through his entire body. He’s halfway through the doorway when a small voice cries, “Wait!”

Grif smirks and turns to Simmons, who is fluttering anxiously a few feet away. “Yeah?”

“I’ll—I’ll come with you,” he said, wringing his hands. “Just don’t completely tear them apart, please.”

His smile grows wider. “That wasn’t a part of the promise.”

“Oh my God.”

#rvb fluff week #rvb #red vs blue #grimmons #my writing #dexter grif #richard simmons #fluff #au #mythical creature au #I did minimal research on this #Grif is supposed to based off of Dracula hence the teleporting #idk how fairies work lmao