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light-lanterne · 11 months

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This story follows the general concept of @foodiewithdahoodie's cannibal Will / serial killer Mike AU, the likes of which is vaguely inspired by 'Bones and All' and other cannibal and vampire media. It’s important to note that this story is rated Mature and gets quite descriptive and dark, so please be mindful when reading. For context, this happens after S2, with Will finally free of the Mind Flayer and things returning to normal… except Will didn't return quite "right", and now has an insatiable hunger he can't quench with normal food. CW: cannibalism, murder and violence. - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☽ - - - - - - - - - - - - - 𐕣 read on ao3 (tba) || support me on ko-fi! 𐕣 @foodiewithdahoodie's posts: i - ii - iii - iv - tag 𐕣 @fluffyfangirl's incredible art: ♡ - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☽ - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This wasn’t supposed to happen, was the first coherent thought Will had since he abruptly left class earlier, thoughts fuzzy and limbs heavy after wandering the empty hallways of Hawkins Middle School in a daze for what felt like hours. He vaguely remembered someone calling his name, followed by some snickers and the louder voice of Mrs. Grabowski trying to catch his attention as he exited the classroom, not a word spoken to justify his sudden departure.

Of course, it was weird, and one would think that considering the circumstances someone would’ve said something or even chased after him. But no, no one followed him and why would they? No one in that classroom was his friend. After all, he was Will Byers, the quiet kid that had never really fit in and, more recently, the boy that had gone missing and had mysteriously come back to life. The weirdo. The freak. Zombie Boy. An abomination, someone who’d been acting strange for a while and was finally back to school for the first time in a week. Unwelcomed. Unwanted. Unknown.

Different.

Will was different and everyone had been able to tell for a long time, except his oddity now extended far beyond what his classmates, teachers, friends and family could ever imagine and he himself found it hard to understand what was happening to him.

All he knew was that ever since he was freed from the Mind Flayer’s possession, things had been strange.

He first became aware of it when he woke up in the hospital, Chief Hopper somehow managing to convince his mom to take him there to spend the rest of the week recovering. And it made sense, to a degree, for his possession hadn’t been too different from a terrible flu and he really needed all the help he could get to recover.

But the second he woke up he could tell something was wrong. He could tell something was not quite right the second he noticed his own eyes lingering as a nurse walked by the door with blood bags in hand, stomach rumbling with a vengeance at the sight. Naturally, this then prompted the nurses to fetch him something to eat, and Will was immediately invaded with memories of one of his last “meals”, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he remembered the snacks he’d eaten all those days ago, in Mike’s basement during Halloween night. Back when everything was normal and he was still just himself, the son of Joyce Byers and brother of Jonathan; friend of Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, the new girl Max Mayfield, and Mike Wheeler. He could almost savour the cheesy Doritos and sweet Kit-Kats; the fizzy Fanta and the delicious Reese’s snacks Mike had collected and slipped into his candy bag all throughout the night.

A stark contrast to what he’d been given to eat then, by the nurses.

And hospital food was never supposed to taste good, he knew this, but it was at the very least supposed to be filling and it’d been weird to find out just how empty he still felt even after what was objectively a rather full meal. Not even three jellies had been enough to quench his hunger and the nurses believed it to be a side effect of his week-long illness, their reassuring words directed at his mom moreso than him because it was clear she was beyond concerned.

But Will had known better. Even if he hadn’t had a name for it then, and even if he still couldn’t grasp the reality of the situation, he knew that wasn’t the reason behind his insatiable hunger.

It wasn’t hard to figure it out, to be completely fair. The dreams… the nightmares he’d been having were enough to clue him into the severity of his condition, visions of death and murder a clear indicator that something was terribly wrong with him. Pictures of himself hunched over, feasting on the rotten corpse of the sweet Barbara Holland something that would haunt even the strongest of men. He looked… Animalistic. Desperate. Hungry.

(He’d been hungry as he bit into Barbara’s side, once the Demogorgon was gone and his starving twelve-year-old self was able to eat something for the first time in days.)

It was… wrong. He was wrong. An error. A mistake, just like his dad had always said he was, except his depravity was now far darker than anything anyone could’ve foretold. Flawed. Messed up. Fucked up. So very fucked up.

And at first, it had repulsed him. Humans were not supposed to dream about killing and eating other people, and the fact that Will was having these confusing fantasies was enough to scare him into not wanting to eat any meat for the rest of his time in the hospital, his refusal a constant point of contention between himself, his mom and the nurses. ‘You need to eat if you want to go home,’ they’d tell him, and he’d shake his head with vehemence and bury himself under the covers until they agreed to let him have more soup instead. He’d find excuses and lies to tell Jonathan whenever their mother sent him in to try to convince Will of giving up his fight.

But he couldn’t lie to himself for much longer, not when the hunger was so strong, and not when the nightmares became a part of his daily life. When the yearning for blood became the only thing he was able to think about the whole day, eyes trailing over the translucent skin of those around him in the search for blue veins, fingers twitching to wrap themselves around frail necks and press until life vacated its vessel… Not when his mouth salivated at the idea of ripping skin open and snapping people’s bones to expose what laid within, and certainly not when his heart picked up speed whenever the desire to sink teeth into supple flesh and bite and tear and feed popped back up in the forefront of his mind.

Will was not a liar by nature, and each passing day he found it harder and harder to deny that whoever his mom, Jonathan and Nancy had rescued was not the Will they’d known. They’d gone into the cabin searching to get rid of the parasitic entity that had invaded him, and had left with something that was not entirely human. Not fully. Not anymore.

It was sad. He should be sad. Life had thrown him nothing but punches ever since he had memory, and this felt like the biggest middle finger the universe could have possibly ever given him. It wasn’t enough to send him into another dimension full of nothing but fear and agony, a monster constantly hunting for him for some reason and his home —the place he was supposed to feel safe at— suddenly a maze of horror and desperation. It wasn’t enough to let him listen to his loved ones search for him relentlessly, their pain everything he could hear as he hid from the horrors, their voices a constant reminder of the love and life he was sure he’d lose for there was no way they could reach him in that purgatory. It wasn’t enough to bring his misery back a year later, his body becoming host to the very creature that was behind everything that had happened to him since that horrible night in November when he was only twelve, his mind slowly slipping away into oblivion as everyone he loved succumbed to his treason.

No, that hadn’t been enough. Now he was cursed and tainted and was infested with something from Hell itself and he had no way of escaping it. This terrible emptiness that now riddled his twisted soul was a constant reminder of everything bad that had ever happened to him, and he should be angry at the way fate kept mocking and taunting him at every waking moment.

He should be annoyed. Pissed. Enraged.

And he was, at least for a bit. Bitter, that was. But he stopped caring as soon as he realised something. Found something. And it wasn’t anything he thought he’d ever have, but the fact that he did was enough to ease his pain and loneliness and transform them into something much better. Much purer.

Mike’s acceptance.

Granted, he hadn’t necessarily been searching for it and he was still in absolute disbelief that Mike had even found out about it in the first place, but it was a fact that Mike was okay with… whatever this was, and Will wasn’t going to pretend that it wasn’t the best feeling in the world to know that Mike still thought of Will as a friend, despite what he knew. That Mike still saw him as someone worthy of his affection and care, despite Will’s new… nature.

It’d happened a few days earlier, on Will’s first day out of the hospital and back home. The rest of the Party wasn’t there, for everyone thought it’d be better to let him readapt slowly, but Mike had always been stubborn and Will’s mom had found it really hard to send him away the moment he showed up in their front door with an armful of snacks and the entirety of the Star Wars film saga shoved into his backpack, right under Mike’s sleeping bag and pajamas. Will’s mom had always had a soft spot for Mike, after all, and it wasn’t like Mike hadn’t been of huge help during the entire Mind Flayer ordeal, so he’d definitely earned his way into spending the night over.

For the first few hours, things were normal, their favourite movie playing as they whispered useless gossip to one another in between chips like they’d always done. Then everything got awkward for a few minutes, when Luke lost his hand on screen and Mike interpreted Will’s sudden tension as fear, as opposed to overbearing hunger and desire; excusing himself to the bathroom in order to try and regain some semblance of composure, Will then spent a good ten minutes staring into his reflection, eyes dark and hands jittery as he imagined himself consuming the flesh off of someone, anyone’s bony hand. After what felt like forever, he was able to return to the living room and it wasn’t easy to convince Mike that everything was okay, but eventually Will managed and they finished the rest of their marathon in peace.

And that’s when things changed. When Will couldn’t control his urges any further.

In retrospect, there was no way he could've held back, no matter how hard he tried. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, for him to grab Mike’s finger after the lovable idiot cut himself with the edge of their Cocoa Puffs box, Mike’s skin always so soft and delicate that the thin cardboard was enough to cause him such an injury. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, for him to bring the slender finger close to his lips, the motion not too different from what they both did to each other as kids whenever they got hurt, except this time Will wasn’t planning on giving the injury a little peck. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, for him to open his mouth and slowly, tenderly, lap at the small cut with his tongue not unlike a cat cleaning itself, the fact that he’d just grabbed Mike’s hand to taste his blood only registering in his mind well over a minute after he was done savouring the delicious, forbidden crimson nectar that he’d been craving all week.

All he knew was that one moment he was looking at Mike as he got a small paper cut, and the next moment he was blurting out apologies and excuses for what he’d just done, his ranting interrupted only by the way Mike wrapped his secure, grounding arms around Will’s torso, pulling him impossibly close and whispering sweet nothings into his ear, not stopping until he was convinced that Will had calmed down.

He told Mike everything after that. The nightmares, his odd yearnings, his fears. Exposed at last, all laid out for Mike to judge and repudiate him for and to a degree, he wished Mike would’ve told him it was wrong. That he was a monster, a freak, and that they needed to find a way to get Will’s destructive thoughts to end before he ended up hurting someone. That they needed to go to his mom’s room and get her to gather the troops, get a hold of doctor Owens so he could figure things out, something.

Everything would’ve been better if Mike had rejected him. It was the moral thing to do, and Will considered himself a good enough person to recognise this.

If Mike had told him this was wrong, Will would’ve clung to everything he’d ever learned about good and evil, would’ve tried harder to get better, would’ve tried to be satiated with normal food. He would’ve done everything in his power to reject that with which he’d been left behind by the Upside Down, would’ve listened attentively to anything the shady government doctors told him to do… Hell, he would have even prayed every night until he could confidently say that he was over that weird phase of his life and everything was behind him, the fact that his soul had been corrupted for way longer than his strange appetite nothing in comparison to the things he wished he could do to Mike now that he’d tasted his sweet alluring blood.

Mike should’ve told him off. If he had, this wouldn’t be happening.

But he hadn’t and now Will didn’t care that it was wrong. He didn’t care that his desires made him a monster, and he didn’t care that his instincts had taken a hold of him and he’d let go of control the second Troy cornered him in the empty hallway.

Why would he care, anyway? Mike had told him it was okay, that he should do whatever felt right at any moment because it was his body requesting what it needed to recover. The world had already failed them all one too many times, anyway, so it wasn’t wrong for him to take something back, right? At least that’s what Mike had reasoned with him, once he was sure Will finally accepted that he didn’t mind just how weird things had gotten, his eyes warm as he reassured Will into accepting his new needs. His new self. Crooked and perverted. Savage and insatiable. Ready to devour anyone that crossed his path, an emerging predator in a world so full of prey no one would miss a few people.

And sure, part of Will still wished Mike had dissuaded his disturbing thoughts because now it was impossible to muffle them once they took a hold of his soul. Now it was impossible to keep the freak on a leash.

Hence his current conundrum.

But it didn’t matter. What was done, was done and for what it was worth, Will had enjoyed it. Granted, he couldn’t remember all the details of what’d happened, but he knew enough to put the missing pieces together: he’d been aimlessly wandering the halls in a trance, wound up in the closed-for-renovation section of the school, and Troy had tried to mess with him. So, Will had naturally lunged at him and tore his throat open with teeth and nails, blood sputtering out from the carotid and straight into Will’s greedy mouth as they both fell to the floor and Will found enough grip to shred a piece of some muscle apart, nearly choking at the mouthful for he was seemingly too delirious to chew slowly or wait before taking another bite. And then another. And another.

Because that’s what he did now, apparently. It’s what his inner beast demanded and Mike had told him to listen to it, so Will was just doing what he was told and frankly, he should’ve never questioned Mike’s judgement. Mike had always been smart, after all, so Will couldn’t understand why he was so surprised at the fact that following his advice could end up in something that felt so… fulfilling. Ecstatic. It was like watching his favourite film or eating Reese’s Pieces for the first time again, opening Christmas presents or winning a D&D campaign. It felt great, the thrill of each bite bringing him to a new level of euphoria he’d never experienced and he wasn’t sure how he’d ever lived without this. Wasn’t sure how he’d ever go back to an existence without this bliss. And cognitively he knew that this was the Mind Flayer’s fault, and that a month ago he never would’ve wanted or needed to do this.

But now he did, and he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty about how good it felt, the pit in his stomach gone for the first time in a week, and his hunger quelled at last. His new self was satisfied, the amalgamation of Will Byers and the being from the Upside Down finally synchronised and united in harmony, and a dopey smile adorning his features as he showered in the rapture of his new awakening.

Even in his floaty state, however, he could tell when someone approached. It was as though he had reached enlightenment, now that his innards were filled to the brim with warm blood and flesh, and he was now suddenly hyperaware of every little movement in his inner and outer world. And of course, he was satisfied with the meal he’d just had —or else he would’ve kept eating until nothing was left behind—, but the idea of eating some more didn’t sound too displeasing. In fact, now that the thought had crossed his mind he found himself… eager. Defiant. It was irrational and dangerous, but he really wished that whoever was coming stumbled across him and what he’d done, if only to get the excuse to hurt and kill and feast again.

He wanted it. Craved it. He’d always been curious and now he really wanted to know if all humans tasted the same or if there were subtle differences and he knew it wasn’t him thinking about these things, it was the beast that now lived within him. But they were now one and the same and Will was ready to let that side of himself take control and paint the walls in beautiful patterns of red as he ripped into someone’s skin once more; ready to let himself fill his stomach with someone else until there was no more room and he felt sick.

Alas, he didn’t get the chance to kill again. Not because he didn’t want to, for he couldn’t ignore that a part of him was really desperate to enact such violence upon his unexpected visitor, but because he couldn’t. Not to him, not after everything they’d been through together and after the promises they’d made.

He owed it to Mike to try to at least be a little normal around him and, perhaps more importantly, maybe not kill him.

“Will?” Mike asked, eyes wide open as he stepped through a plastic sheet someone had put in place to protect the rest of the hallway from dust and now blood. His hair was wild, ruffled by wind as if he’d been running, and it didn’t take a genius to understand that Mike had probably been searching for him, rumours quick to spread across school even if it’d only been about fifteen minutes since he left and everyone was supposed to still be in class.

Mike looked… pretty. With his pink cheeks and parted red lips, sparkly eyes and tender round cheeks. Poking from under his soft sweater, Mike’s slim neck seemed to beckon to Will, the bare skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat in a way that was really hard to ignore, the angle at which Mike had tilted his head exposing the delicious dips and cliffs of muscle and vessels that Will was buzzing with excitement to take into his mouth and destroy. It was hard to ignore it, the urge, but just like the beast had taken control of him, Will knew he could control it back if need be.

So he did. He stood up slowly and didn’t lunge at Mike as he spoke, words slurred like every time he ate a lot and needed a nap.

“I was hungry,” was all he could say, sheepish as the realisation that he’d just succumbed to his twisted desires dawned on him for the first time. The horrors he’d shared with Mike… The nightmares he’d been trying to avoid… It all felt like a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts, one he didn’t even try to fight back and couldn’t be bothered to feel bad about.

All he could feel was shame and fear. Shame that someone he cared so much for saw him like that, covered in Troy Walsh’s blood with a potentially mad look in his eyes, and fear that Mike’s promises had been empty and, now that he saw the extent of Will’s insanity, he left him alone.

Once again, however, Will was reminded of the fact that he should never doubt Mike. “I can see that,” his friend scoffed once he was free of his shock, his eyes scanning the scene with apparent disinterest right before setting on Will, warmth inundating them as if he’d just seen a puppy or a beautiful sunrise and Will could almost cry at the realisation that yes, Mike would honour his promise to be by Will’s side as they explored this new side of his and no, he wouldn’t leave him alone.

Despite knowing each other for eight years, Mike Wheeler continued to impress him every single day.

“Sorry; I know it’s a mess,” Will shot back, tentative smile on his lips as he, unreasonably, kept expecting things to go South. After all, he was Will Byers and his luck was never the best. No one should blame him for expecting the worst.

This time, however, his concern was completely unnecessary. “Don’t worry, we can fix it,” Mike simply said, and that was all it took for Will’s smile to become sincere. Smiling back as if they’d just shared a private joke, Mike approached and poked his arm, gentle eyes searching for his as he asked his next question. “Do you feel any better?” He said, and Will could only nod because he was still not sure of how much Mike would want to hear about his little escapade.

“I think it’s what I was missing.”

Mike beamed at his words, clearly happy to see Will recovering his health at long last even if the price was an unconventional one and it took all of Will’s willpower not to jump him and bite into the folds of his smile. “Good,” Mike giggled, then looked around at the small, plastic-wrapped alcove Will had chosen to commit his horrible crime and nodded to himself. “We should get started now. You up for it?” Will nodded again, his smile faltering slightly as he heard what Mike had to say next. “Great! I’m going to need your help; I can’t carry his corpse by myself.”

Right, about that…

“He’s still alive,” Will declared, a frown now between his eyebrows because despite all the damage he’d caused to Troy’s neck and shoulder, the asshole was still very much breathing and —perhaps more importantly— awake.

Awake and with wide eyes, terror clear in his pupils as he desperately tried to yell, say something, make a singular noise. But he couldn’t, not after what Will had done to his throat, not after his larynx was nearly ripped out of his body at the crux of Will’s frenzy, voice box reduced to a mangled mess that Will had only left behind because of how tendony and unpleasant that area had felt when he bit into it, the swelling his failed bite had caused somehow managing to slow down the haemorrhage so much that Troy was still holding on for dear life, a whole five minutes after the original attack.

It was… odd, to see someone so loud and obnoxious like Troy suddenly reduced to a quivering mess, unable to move out of fear of bleeding out and unable to make a sound as if Will had designed his attack to render him powerless in retribution for the years of abuse the entire Party had endured at the hands of his current victim when, in reality, Will had only attacked in blind hunger. Now that Troy was laying in a pool of his own blood, however, Will couldn’t help the perverse satisfaction that took over his brain as he realised that he’d done it: he’d fulfilled his years-long desire to get back at Troy for everything he’d done and no matter how this all ended, it was a fact that the bully would never, ever, touch any of his friends again.

It was deliciously twisted, and the grumble in Will’s stomach was enough indication that such trail of thoughts was reawakening the side of his that would never stop being hungry, the idea of depriving Troy of the arms and hands he’d used to harm them for years almost loud enough to obfuscate Mike’s voice.

Almost.

Like a bee to honey, he could never fully ignore Mike Wheeler, his soft voice doing little to hide the darkness in his words and perhaps that was the reason Will was able to ignore his renewed appetite for a few more seconds.

“Not for long,” Mike mumbled, dark eyes fixed on the writhing shape that laid on the floor in front of them. Noticing he had Will’s entire attention on him, Mike forced a smile and dismissively gestured towards Troy’s body. “Tell me when you’re ready to go,” he said and, when Will only nodded again, he continued speaking. “Good. Give me a second.”

And with that, putting on a gym-class jacket atop his outfit and clenching his hand around the handle of a hammer Will hadn’t noticed he’d grabbed, the sweet, adorable-looking Mike Wheeler he’d known his whole life rose his arm with determination and, after a beat, swung the hammer right into Troy’s head, the mute boy letting out a weak breath in lieu of a scream for Will had already deprived him of the chance to let his death be known to the world. When that didn’t kill him, Mike swung the hammer again. And again. Over and over until Troy’s face became unrecognisable mush, whatever skull structure he’d ever had being reduced to nothing but bone splinters and blood. They could easily leave the body there and no one would ever be able to tell who it belonged to at that point, the viciousness with which his friend turned their once-bully into a pulp something Will had never expected to witness from someone as gentle and kind-hearted as Mike.

It was a brutal attack, one that Will’s dark self very much enjoyed watching, and the satisfaction of knowing that he wasn’t the only messed up one in their friend group was something he’d have to process once they were back home playing with their Atari and stuffing their cheeks full of popcorn.

For now, however, he smiled, watching Mike’s handiwork as his beloved best friend finally let go of the hammer and sank to the floor in exhaustion, a good three metres away from their mess in order to keep his pants and shoes in pristine condition because of course he was smart enough to keep his own clothes clean from the incriminating blood. Eyeing the rise and fall of Mike’s chest as he fought to catch his breath to say something, Will decided this was as good of a time as any to mention the fact that, for some reason, he was once again in desperate need of a snack.

“Actually, I’m already hungry again,” Will spoke, his voice seemingly snapping Mike out of some trance, dark pupils dilated in what Will could only imagine was a mirror reflection of his own. When Mike arched an eyebrow in mild disbelief, Will could only shrug and smirk teasingly. “The less weight we have to carry the better, right?” He asked, and his words made Mike roll his eyes in faux annoyance.

“Just don’t overeat. You know it makes you feel sick for like a week.”

Will chuckled at that, kneeling next to Troy’s incredibly bloody corpse and grabbing one of his hands with both of his, mouth filling with saliva as plans to strip both arms down to the bone formulated in his very sick, very wretched brain. To be entirely honest, Will wasn’t sure he was capable of overeating anymore, the fact that he could probably eat Troy’s entire corpse in a day something he’d be sure to share with Mike later, when they were safe and he was done eating.

Before he took a bite, however, he was mindful enough to shoot his best friend a wide smile and a message. “Thanks, Mike,” he said, then clarified what he meant once he noticed the other’s confusion. “For having my back.”

Mike scoffed, removing the bloodied jacket from his slender body as he light-heartedly replied with two simple words.

“Crazy together.”

The callback had Will smiling from ear to ear.

“Crazy together,” he said, then let go of his conscious mind as his animal side took over and sunk his teeth into the still warm flesh of his and Mike’s first victim.

And it didn’t make much sense, and he might’ve very well imagined it in his delusional state, but as Will fed he glanced up at Mike a couple times and he could almost swear that he saw Mike’s pupils dilate again as a powerful emotion, one Will had seen a few times in the past, took over his expression. And irrational, feral and insane as he was, he was pretty certain that he’d gotten it wrong but, if Will didn’t know any better, he’d almost think Mike was jealous he wasn’t the one being eaten, torn apart and consumed by Will. Wasn’t the one eliciting such sounds of happiness and delight from him, the sweet taste of human flesh satisfying his body’s new needs and desires.

And despite being certain about the fact that he’d imagined such a reaction, Will couldn’t help but to scoff.

He’d only tasted a droplet of his blood, but Will knew for a fact that Mike was by far the most delicious person in the entirety of Hawkins; one he’d very much like to devour bit by bit, savouring every bite as he reached even higher levels of bliss he knew he’d never be able to imagine, the promise of eternal happiness something he’d only achieve the day he gave into his strongest temptation and gave Mike what he apparently desired.

Mike had no reason to be jealous at all.

#🔨#✨#🧸#byler #byler fanfiction #byler fanfic #byler ficlet #will byers #mike wheeler #dark byler agenda #cannibyler #w // graphic depictions of violence #w // cannibalism #w // murder

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rosietrace · 6 months

Text

A Deck left untouched

†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†

“Do you remember this story? After all, you were the villain of it.”

༝ㅤ･ㅤ˚ㅤ。ㅤ.ㅤ⋆ㅤ✧̣̩⋆̩☽⋆゜【♛】

『 Etteilla 』 — General Information 「 The Dormitory 」

『 Name Meaning

Etteilla — The pseudonym of Jean Baptiste Alliette. A man who is known for his many contributions to the art of tarot reading. 』

✧ A former dormitory of Scepter Hall Institute

↳ Once founded under the unity of the mortal and immortal, now lost to time

✦ Made during the early stages of Scepter Hall Institute's history. Back when their original location was within the confines of the Briar Valley.

✧ Due to ████████ , the dormitory had fallen into obscurity, and soon forgotten throughout history.

✦ To this day, no member of the academy's alumni who were alive at the time of Etteilla's disbandment are allowed to speak of it.

↳ This is due in part with the fact that the academy had faced a great deal of losses around the same time of the dormitory's disbandment.

「 It seems the page has been ripped in two…. 」

↭ For more information; 『 A Dorm lost to Time 』

†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†

『 Etteilla 』 — 「 The inner circle 」

✦ Individuals of the original dormitory, and individuals who had nothing to do with it all. 26 members, 21 cards.

✧ All of which, are under the control of Mistress Alliette — their leader. Their savior. Their Queen.

✦ Their mistress has a goal. A goal that they must assist her in fulfilling. She freed them, and in turn, they'll return the favor with her assistance.

「 This is as far as the Mistress can allow. 」

↭ For more information; 『 A Deck of Cards 』

「 Main Story — Twisted Wonderland, Project A.V.A 」

†•°•══════ஓ๑✬๑ஓ══════•°•†

「 The Arcana 」 — Completed

The Mistress — The Queen

〈0〉The Fool — The Anomaly ✦ The Lady

↳ 愚者 — エル・エリス

〈1〉The Magician — From One to Four

↳ 魔術師 — オベロン

〈2〉The High Priestess — Fallen from Grace

↳ 女教皇 — イーデン

〈3〉The Empress — The Mother of Venus

↳ 女帝 — アイシャ

〈4〉The Emperor — The Father of Mars

↳ 皇帝 — カリスト

〈5〉The Hierophant — Right and Wrong

↳ 教皇 — アトラス・アモス

〈6〉The Lovers — The Mistress' Arrow

↳ 恋人 — スキー

〈7〉The Chariot — A swift blow to the head

↳ 戦車 — エンヤ

〈8〉Strength — War Incarnate

↳ 正義 — カリン

〈9〉The Hermit — Hidden Forgeries

↳ 隠者 — ヒミツ

〈10〉The Wheel of Fortune — Endless Possibilities

↳ 運命の輪 — トラ

〈11〉Justice — The Disgraced Knight

↳ 力 — ノリコ

〈12〉The Hanged Man — The Executed

↳ 吊された男 — アルバート

〈13〉Death — The Loss of Juventas ✦ Forgotten Phantom ✧ A Servant most Loyal

↳ 死神 — メイヴェン・タナ・アクリス

〈14〉Temperance — Divine Narration

↳ 節制 — エミル

〈15〉The Devil — Forgotten Warmth ✧ Forgotten Laughter

↳ 悪魔 — マリス・マレン

〈16〉The Tower — Promise of Prometheus

↳ 塔 — アセフィオン

〈17〉The Star — Lady of the Cosmos

↳ 星 — ステラ

〈18〉 The Moon — The Diva

↳ 月 — エララ

〈19〉 The Sun — The duplication of Phoebus Apollo

↳ 太陽 — ハルカ

〈20〉 Judgment — The Betrayed Trident

↳ 審判 — テミス

〈21〉 The World — E.A.N.E

↳ 世界 — コスマ

「 ❐ Disclaimer; Etteilla has been completed prior to the creation of this post. I would like to apologize for the fact that you cannot add on to the current number of members in Etteilla. 」

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#etteilla twst #「 etteilla ♢」#etteilla oc #twst oc #twst ocs #mutuals <3 #twisted wonderland oc #ʚ♡ɞ — rosie's main stories!#twst #disney twst #ツイステ #ツイステッドワンダーランド #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland

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bluejaysandblackbats · 28 days

Text

You're Just Like Quicksand

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Beyond

Summary: Jason Todd is ready to go into semi-retirement after fifteen years working with troubled youth, but one case in particular forces him to confront the sins of his youth and painful memories from his past.

Chapters: 6/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Terry McGinnis, Warren McGinnis, Mary McGinnis, Matt McGinnis, Bruce Wayne, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): TBA

Additional Tags: Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Retired Jason Todd, Multiple POV, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, Angst, Mourning Jason Todd

Chapter Six: Family Portrait (Terry McGinnis' POV)

I showered and changed into the pajamas Jason gave me. They were baggy, but they fit well enough. He sat in the living room, reading a book by the fireplace. I sat at the top of the stairs, watching him. “Terry, you can come downstairs whenever you’re through watching me,” Jason whispered. I stood up and looked over the stair rail.

“How’d you know I was here?” I questioned. Jason grinned upward at me.

“I heard you breathing,” Jason chuckled, “What’s the matter, Terry?”

“Jason, you don’t get a little messed up during these riots?” I asked. I had to admit that I was scared. I hated the riots in Gotham because there was no way to see if it was a meta-problem or a gang problem. A meta problem sometimes meant we were shut in the house for days. He shook his head.

“It gives me an excuse to sit up all night. I’ll put a good dent in this series,” Jason replied, “Wanna borrow the first issue?”

I nodded, and Jason pulled the first book from a stack on his living room table. I curled up on his couch and started reading. “Jason, thanks for letting me help with dinner. I had fun,” I replied. Jason grinned.

“I had fun too, Terry… You know you can do this with your father at home too?” Jason suggested. I know he meant well, but things were still weird with my dad. He didn’t get me like Jason did. I nodded, but I didn’t answer him. “It helps… Common ground between parents and their kids has to start somewhere, Terry.”

Jason returned to his book, and I read until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I woke up, tucked into bed with the book on the bedside table. I could hear Jason’s voice in the hallway. “Hi—. No, it's not like that. I'm safe. The generator's fine… Do they feed you enough? Of course, I love you and miss you… Yeah, I know. I'm glad you called… No, I'm not mad that you called. I was shocked… Hey, no… Don't do that. I understand," Jason's voice bride, "Don't worry about it. I'll see you as soon as I'm freed up… No, I—. I wanted you to call. I love you too. A million times more… A billion. Night night."

Once he hung up, I stepped into the hall, where I witnessed Jason crying with his forehead against the wall. "Jason, I didn't mean to listen, but I couldn't sleep," I whimpered. Something about seeing him cry twisted my stomach in knots. "Jason, I—. Please don't cry." I tugged at his sleeve and pulled him into a hug.

"I shouldn't—. Sorry that I woke you up," Jason sniffed as he collected himself.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I got a call from someone I love dearly. It's hard when you haven't seen someone in a long time. Sometimes it hurts to hear the kids’ voices," Jason confessed. “Want some cocoa?”

I nodded and followed him to the kitchen. Jason took a serving platter out of the pantry and filled a small pot with all his ingredients faster than I could sit down. “Is Tim your little brother?” I asked.

Jason chuckled and nodded. “I’m the third of six kids. But if we were talking order of when we were adopted-slash-acquired… I was his second child. He never completely figured out the whole parenting thing, but I was close to him when I was young,” Jason replied.

“You were adopted?” I asked. “Did you—? Sorry, that’s rude.”

“No, it’s fine. I am adopted. Technically twice adopted, but I didn’t know that until I was fifteen. I lived with my biological father and the woman I knew as my mother until they both passed, then I was adopted, and three and a half years later, I found out my mom wasn’t my biological mom… My biological mom left the country,” Jason answered honestly, “I met my biological mom once… and it took me over twenty-five years to process that. And that’s why I stress the importance of you trying to bridge the gap between yourself and your pop. He loves you so much, and he wants to see you. Warren wants to understand you. Some kids never get that in their parents… Trust me.” Jason turned away from the pot and smiled at me.

“What was your bio mom like?” I asked.

Jason turned his back. “I don’t speak ill of the dead, but I can speak to how our meeting affected me. Out of all the neglect, verbal abuse, and exploitation I experienced as a kid… The day I met my biological mother left me scarred physically and mentally in ways that my wife —God rest her soul— couldn’t even understand. Speaking of that, have you ever thought of therapy?” Jason asked.

“There’s nothing wrong with—.”

“I’m not saying that. Everyone tends to need therapy from time to time… I didn’t think I needed it, but I started going because my kids went… and it changed me. Made me more gentle, kind, and patient. I had to stop a few years back because I hit a wall… But it helped a lot,” Jason replied, “It’s not always fun, but it’s worth it if you put in the work.”

“Like going to the gym?” I half-joked. Jason nodded.

“Exactly like that,” Jason replied.

“Well, I’ll try it whenever you go back,” I joked. I didn’t mean to be hurtful, but he winced. “Jason, I didn’t—.”

“No, you’re right. It’s hypocritical of me to think that you’d give therapy a go when I’m actively avoiding it,” Jason replied, “But you can’t go contingent on my successes or failures. I’m your mentor, but I won’t allow you to make decisions based on what I do. You’re not a follower, Terry.” He was stern but sincere.

I didn’t argue with him, and I wasn’t angry with him. “Terry, I don’t mean to be hard on you. I like you. You remind me of someone… And I don’t wanna see you follow somebody right into an early grave. You’re a good kid, and I know you can be great if you put your mind to it,” Jason explained as he poured my cocoa into a mug before messing up my hair.

“You really do care, don’t you?” I asked. Jason nodded.

“So much,” Jason replied, “I hate to say it, but you remind me of how much fun I used to have with my kids… Even when they were getting in trouble.” That made me even more curious about his family. How could I be anything like his kids or his family? “Mostly, you remind me of myself when I was a kid… But you know that already. That’s how I know you’ll be alright if you learn to make your own decisions. You don’t have to follow in anyone’s footsteps. You understand me?”

“Yeah,” I replied as I sipped the cocoa he made. It was rich and warm, and it filled me with comfort. It was the feeling I used to get when I had fever chills as a kid, and my dad wrapped me in blankets fresh from the dryer. It made me want my dad. I wanted him so badly I thought I'd cry.

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eeviewrites · 3 years

Text

Send My Love to the Sea | Roronoa Zoro/Original Character

title ♡ symphony of the sea rating ♡ R content warnings ♡ tw! discussion/implication of multiple forms of abuse, sexual themes and elements additional tags ♡ slow burn, like really slow, eventual romance, hurt/comfort, angst, canon compliant (mostly), alabasta saga,

synopsis ♡ Ex-pirate Kaz has spent the last three years of her life held captive, until one day she is freed by Monkey D. Luffy. As payment, Kaz agrees to serve on his ship while he hunts for the elusive one piece. While she navigates not only the rough, tumultuous waters of the Grandline, she must also face her feelings for a certain green-haired swordsman.

“Zoro, Zoro, Zoro.

Her heart chants his name, he’d loosened something in her, eased his way into her subconscious and invaded her every thought. He was always there, following her even when not present. She imagined him in her mind, picking through the rubble and debris of her scattered thoughts, and in every image, he picked up each of her pieces delicately and put them back together.

It was though his soul touched hers and would forever leave a mark of a change on her.”

chapter one ♡ [ posted here ] chapter two ♡ [ tba ]

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space-------kid · 4 years

Text

can’t keep my hands (off you).

Anime/Manga: One Punch Man Pairing: Garou/fem!Reader Additional pairing/characters: platonic Metal Bat/fem!Reader, Zenko, mentions of other heroes such as Saitama, Watchdog Man, etc. Genre: Romance, comedy Warning: Absolute silliness. Language – Garou and reader both ate rainbows for breakfast. Dumbassery. Teeth-rotting fluff, maybe? Reader is hella strong like Saitama. Half-assed spice because you’re good at cockblocking Garou despite being low-key thirsty for him. And LOTS of dumbassery from the reader, most probably. Additional tag: Dream-based fic, canon-divergent, Garou is horny af A/N: This is supposed to be a lengthy one-shot, but I’m a dumbass who can’t keep my word so the supposedly one-shot isn’t a one shot anymore. Now I have to worry how I should properly divide all those parts (I mean, they’re already divided, but–) 😅 A/N 2: NSFW-ish chapter ahead. Half-assed spice because I don’t know how to properly write one

Contrary to popular belief, Garou drinks “respect women” juice.

Summary:

Your life had its general ups and downs, pros and cons, the good and the bad.

You were admittedly a coward and afraid of being targeted by people for it. Following the advice of your (best) friend you trained hard, like, FUCKING hard, and now you’re blessedly, utterly strong you can take down enemies with just one hit. A good thing, really. Can’t let any bad guy harass you or something.

But-

You were probably cursed with the biggest, baddest of luck. Not only were monsters chasing you, suddenly there was this fucking hot bastard weirdo who kept on calling himself the Hero Hunter. “I’m not a hero, goddamn it!”

i. and ii. | iii. and iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | [tba]

“i can’t keep my

hands

off…!”

- can’t keep my hands off you/simple plan

ix.

You woke up feeling tired and in someplace you didn’t know.

Still feeling sleepy, you snuggled closer to the warm body under you, letting the steady beat of a heart lull you back into slumber. A contented sigh slipped past your lips when a pair or strong, muscular arms wrapped around your waist and carefully maneuvered you along with them as the person you were sleeping with moved to lie on their side. You could feel yourself between their body and the back of a ratty old couch but you paid the latter no heed.

You were warm and comfortable, and your fight instinct was quiet since you didn’t feel any threat nor malicious intent from the person you were sleeping together with. Sluggishly, you pulled your head back just enough to take a look at the mystery guy through what little light from the moon that filtered through the gaps between metal walls.

Your sleepy gaze was blessed by the image of a peacefully snoozing Garou. He looked… somewhat younger, untroubled, in his sleep. Freed from his constant scrutiny, you took your time fully admiring his face up close and more intimately.

You knew yourself that Garou was a handsome – devastatingly so – young man. You couldn’t even pick which part of his face you liked the most. His eyes with their golden gaze, sharp nose that crinkled when he smiled or laughed, or his lips and how they curled up in a wicked smile?

Feeling bashful about your train of thought, you ducked your head and was met with the wonderful sight of his naked, broad chest.

Naked?

You looked down at your own chest and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw yourself still clothed, albeit with Garou’s long-sleeved turtleneck.

Wait a minute. Why were you in his clothes? Did you-? Or did he-?

Thoroughly embarrassed but too tired to even question why you were wearing Garou’s top, you just shyly buried your face on his neck, still feeling tired and sleepy from whatever your fight instinct had done earlier (or was it yesterday? You had no idea).

As if on cue, Garou’s hands squeezed your waist and nuzzled your hair. He shifted against you and yawned, stirring from his own slumber.

You timidly looked up and saw one of his eyes open, peeking down at you.

“You awake, [Name]?”

You could only nod in response, not trusting yourself to communicate with him verbally at the moment.

“Are you still tired? Were you hurt?”

You shook your head no.

Garou breathed a sigh of relief, moving to lie on his back and pulling you on top of him. He must’ve been half-asleep or something because he sounded as if he was dreaming judging from what he told you next.

“Good. You look so hot in your matching underwear by the way, but even better with my top. Hnn… should wear it more often, and preferably with nothing underneath…”

Face beet red from his words, you half-heartedly pulled yourself away from him, struggling feebly against his hold on you.

“I had to change your clothes for you, don’t want you gettin’ sick or something. You were so hot drenched in monster blood earlier, you know,” he continued sleepily, eyes shut while his arms around you tightened to prevent you from escaping. “Wouldn’t mind getting beaten by you again, just-“ here, one of his hands lazily moved down, palm tracing the curve of your ass and finally found its way to your left thigh and giving it a soft squeeze “-crush my head between these killers, huh…”

Oh, god. Never had you wanted to be struck by lightning in your damn life, and yet you couldn’t deny that his sleepy rambling and lazy ministrations were turning you on.

Fuck on a stick, why were you just accepting the fact right now that you have also harboured a thing for him?

“Um, G-Garou,” you softly called him, gently poking his cheek with your finger. God, he was making you feel one hundred kinds of tingly, but you would damn yourself to hell if you let him continue. “W-Wake up, you p-p-pervert, and s-stop touching m-me lewdly!”

Not one to disappoint you, Garou opened his eyes and stared openly at you, gaze smoldering as his hand remained squeezing your thigh.

“Really? That’s what you’re gonna tell me?” he scoffed at you. The corners of his lips quirked up in a devilish smirk. “Hell no, [Name]. I’ve waited long enough for this and don’t have much patience left any longer.”

With that, Garou sat up and braced you against his chest, your legs straddling him. Both his hands were now on your thighs each, fingers digging greedily on your exposed skin. You bit back a moan when he nudged your forehead with his, making you look up at him. He pressed his open mouth to yours, stifling the surprised squeak that slipped past your lips.

“This is your fault, you know,” he told you between kisses, “beating me up twice and seducing me with these fucking thighs.” Garou kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs roughly, chuckling at the soft moan you let out. “How dare you make me feel horny every damn time I’m around you, little lady. Think I’ll always let you get away with it? Think I’m just teasing you for the fun of it? No, no, no…”

He yanked the collar of his sweater with his teeth and his searching mouth quickly found your neck, nibbling and sucking on your skin hard enough to leave a mark. Your moans and whimpers turned him on even further, egging him on to continue what he was doing.

“Dumbass [Name]… think your fucking blush have no effect on me?” he grumbled against your skin.

“A-Ah, Garou…” you moaned breathlessly, eyes closed tight they hurt. Your hands gripped his shoulders hard enough to hurt, fingernails digging on his skin. Garou let out a pleased hum against your throat, dragging his teeth and tongue on your skin. You were just sleeping next to each other. How the hell did it escalate to this?

But you would be fucking lying if you said you didn’t want this. It might have been a long time coming, even.

Garou was being high-key thirsty for you, that you knew because he was being blatant about it. But he didn’t know that you were low-key having the hots for him.

That didn’t mean, however, that you would let him get to your pants easily.

Garou’s lips found yours again, and he was quick to slip his tongue inside your mouth when you gasped as he slipped one of his hands under his sweater you were wearing. Almost abandoning all common sense, you returned his kisses shyly but just as fervently, carding your fingers through his wild hair. He groaned delightedly against your mouth when you raked your nails against his scalp.

He shifted you on his lap and that was when you felt something poking your inner thigh.

You were loathe to stop this little romp he started, but you would be damned if you were continuing this without a proper label between the two of you, more so marriage prospects!

(Yeah, you were old-fashioned like that.)

You parents would be mortified and proud at the same time. They raised you a prude, for fuck’s sake after all. And Badd teasing you should he see the mark on your neck would just fucking kill you with embarrassment. Also, he might get a tiny bit infuriated should he find out that the one who gave it to you was the infamous Hero Hunter-

Garou let out a startled yelp when you covered his face with your hands and moved to plant your knees on his thighs.

“[Name]-?!”

Face bright red not from being turned on but from sheer mortification (well, you’re still proud of yourself from making him feel pretty excited), you removed your hands from his face and scrambled to get on your feet. You stumbled gracelessly on the wooden floor and tugged the hem of his sweater down to fully cover your still-exposed thighs.

“T-Take– Take your r-raging d-dick elsewhere, Garou!” you screeched at him with pure embarrassment flooding your face.

“I am taking it elsewhere!” he yelled back at you childishly. “I’m taking it to you, idiot!”

“Oh, my god! D-Don’t say it like that!”

“The fuck are you acting like this for, now? Just when we’re getting at the good part…” Garou complained, pouting – actually pouting! – at you. Suddenly, his eyes widened with realization and he stared at you in astonishment. “Don’t tell me… Are you a fuckin’ virgin, [Name]?”

If only the ground could swallow you or you either die from utter humiliation. Before you knew it, you had crossed the short distance between the two of you and shoved your fists weakly against his chest.

“S-S-S-So what if I-I am?!”

Much to your consternation, Garou only laughed uproariously at your confirmation. You shrieked wordlessly at him, weakly hitting his chest as he continued guffawing at you.

“S-Stop laughing, asshole!” you yelled, tears of embarrassment pooling on the corners of your eyes. “W-What’s so b-bad about being a v-virgin?”

Garou, trying his best to contain his laughter, looked at you rather proudly and shrugged. “Nothin’ bad about it, really. I just can’t believe that hot stuff like ya ain’t even gotten laid yet.”

You knew it wasn’t possible, but you could feel your face getting redder and hotter at being called hot by a stupidly, terribly attractive hunk. You asked him for confirmation, slightly hoping that you didn’t mishear, “I-I’m… hot?”

“Lady, I won’t even try to think about getting into your pants if I think you’re not,” he deadpanned, brow raised as if you had said something idiotic. Garou grabbed you by the waist and attempted to pull you back to his lap, but you braced your hands against his chest and opted to stand between his legs. He complained, “I just want you to sit here, dumbass! What now?”

“I don’t want to! Not with t-that- that thing poking my butt!” you protested, still blushing heavily.

“Fucking damn it, woman,” Garou groaned, sounding pained. “I get you’re a virgin and may not want to continue since it’s understandably your first time or something, and I respect that even if I wanna bone you so fuckin’ bad right now. We’ll stop, okay? I’ll stop. I just wanna hold you close! Sit on my thigh or beside me, for fuck’s sake!”

Warmth filled your chest, the wholesome kind, at Garou being respectful and mustering every ounce of self-restraint for you. You heeded him and sat on his right thigh, although mindful of the raging boner he was still sporting. Shyly, you looked at him and saw that he wasn’t even a bit embarrassed about it. Garou returned your stare, golden gaze softening as he planted a kiss on your temple.

“Have I told you already that you’re damn hot?” he asked you quietly, eyes roaming your body earnestly. He placed a hand on one of your thighs and ran his thumb on the exposed skin.

You bit the inside of your cheek when he looked back at your face, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“B-But I’m not-“ you griped, averting your gaze meekly.

“Hell, you are. Covered in monster blood or not.”

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“S-Stop it. You just wanna continue…”

“I told you already, we don’t have to if you’re not ready,” Garou fussed at you. “Haven’t ya been listening?”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Tch. You should be.”

You peeked at him through your fingers and saw the tender way he was looking at you. Huh. What’s with that expression just now?

Garou scooped you in his arms and settled you on the couch. He stood up and repositioned himself on the floor, his back to you.

“Go back to sleep,” he told you.

“Um… what about you?”

He titled his head to look at you, brow raised again. “I’m taking the floor,” he told you. “Not unless you want me up there with you, and I’m tellin’ you: I get to touch you again, and there’s no stopping me anymore. You want that?”

You swooped forward and kissed his cheek thoughtlessly, loving the way his eyes widened at you like a puppy’s and cheeks dusted pink. You shot him a grateful smile and ruffled his messy hair.

“T-Thank you, Garou,” you told him sincerely. “For doing this… and for looking out for me. I… I must’ve passed out earlier, huh? There were lots of monsters around, and, I-I got really scared when… um…”

“You’re looking out for me, too, [Name],” he replied. “You didn’t really have to continue being friends with me after all these, but… you get my drift.”

He had a point, to be honest. But you liked him for who he was, anyway. Liked him as a friend, you meant.

Are you sticking with just friends, though? After what happened, you idiot? You asked yourself as you laid down on your side, facing Garou. He was facing forward now, shoulders relaxing and his breathing evening out.

You had to admit that you might be harbouring a little crush on the guy despite all the teasing he was raining down on you. Garou might be the Hero Hunter, but he was always so nice – kind – to you. Hell, he might’ve laughed at you for being a virgin, but he had respected you and stopped himself when he caught on your panic earlier.

“I get you’re a virgin and may not want to continue since it’s understandably your first time or something, and I respect that even if I wanna bone you so fuckin ’bad right now. We’ll stop, okay? I’ll stop.”

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you closed your eyes, hopefully dreaming of a gentlemanly Garou wooing you in your dreams.

“[Name].”

“Hmm?” you hummed sleepily.

“You better be ready next time, ‘coz you ain’t gonna cockblock me anymore.”

You smacked him hard on the head, telling yourself that he deserved to get knocked out for being such a fucking pervert.

---

to be continued

#garou x reader #platonic metal bat x reader #garou #garou the hero hunter #garou the human monster #metal bat #badd #opm x reader #one punch man #one punch man season 2

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