#SPEAKING OF DEFORMITIES IN THROATS

[quins-makeshift-menagerie]

we miss Dren. Can we see her 1 more time...

Pfff y’all can ask to see her whenever you want ❤️

#precious girl #SPEAKING OF DEFORMITIES IN THROATS #I wonder how many people remember that Dren’s vocal cords never developed properly #Dren Mewtwo #Mewtwo #art #2023 #ask #anonymous

[thedevilspatronstf]

I want a beer than can turn me into a hairy, super muscular cigar smoking bear.

You burst through the big doors of the devil's lounge and make your way up to the elevator. That Peter-guy you met earlier told you where to meet the man you could fulfill your contract with and turn you into the man you always desired to be.

There is a hidden button underneath the others, and you press it multiple times. You're shaking in excitement since Peter told you about his own transformation. Even though he told you that this wasn't at all what he thought it would be, you didn't listen to him anymore.

As the elevator doors close, you smile, but then the elevator goes down instead of up. Like the cables were cut, the whole room around you drops at rapid speed, causing you to desperately hold on to the golden railing all around you. For what feels like an eternity, you fall deeper and deeper, until it all suddenly stops.

Your head is spinning as you fall to the ground. What is happening?

The golden doors open up, revealing a beautiful, big room with antique furniture, big armchairs, sofas, and a huge wooden, standing clock in the midst of countless, even exotique, decorations. It's so hot down here, and when you take the first step inside the room, it feels like your skin is melting.

You look around the room until you find a well-dressed man sitting on a pompous throne.

"Speak." The guy said, and a sudden thought rushes through your mind.

'Be careful around Ludwig; he's not what he seems to be.'

Peter told you this when you met him, but whatever. You have a contract and a right to become what you want to be.

"I want a beer that can turn me into a hairy, super-muscular cigar-smoking bear." You shout as your heart beats so, so fast.

Ludwig tilts his head barely, starring at you with cold, judging as before he steadies his head with one hand.

With a wave of his other hand, an ancient-looking glass comes into being right in front of him, and, at the same time, it's filled with a yellow-ish brown liquid.

The glass moves toward Ludwig as he proceeds to smell it. "Beer. A foll's beverage." In disgust, he waves his hand again, ordering the glass to glide over to you.

Your eyes widen the closer it gets, and your whole body shakes. This is it—the moment you've been waiting for. But it stops right in front of you and begins to tilt slowly. Panicking, you jump underneath it, lift your head, and open your mouth.

Beer pours from the glass, covering not only your face but your clothes as well. Luckily, most of it enters your body through your mouth or nose.

You're expecting a bitter yet delicious taste, but it's nothing like you hoped it would be. It's much thicker and more sticky, causing you to swallow multiple times to get it down your throat as more and more enters your mouth.

However, you feel its effect right away.

As it runs down your throat, it's heating up rapidly and burning what's feeling like your insides. You grab your throat and start coughing heavily. The liquid is covering your entire face and upper body; you can't see or hear anything.

Your skin starts burning as well, causing you to let out a low, breathless scream.

Yet, your body is going through something even more intense.

You wipe beer out of your eyes, and in horror, you see your hands deform and grow much bigger and bulkier. At the same time, with every breath you take, you feel your entire upper body enlarging steadily.

A burning sensation erupts inside your belly, forcing it to widen quickly, much to your dislike. You're feeling nauseous as more and more of the sticky liquid covers your throat and mouth.

With a bone-crushing sound, your upper body grows bigger, causing your shirt to be torn apart and exposing a still-growing chest. What's left of your shirt drops to the floor and catches fire.

Just then, it feels like a million little needles press through your chest, and you look down, watching dark hair break through your entire chest.

The feeling spreads to your neck, and you instinctively grab it out of pain, and more and more hair forms a thick beard.

As the pain and pressure get more intense, you feel your junk expand as well. This sends shivers of pure pleasure through every fiber of your body.

You want to feel this and run a hand down your own body to your crotch. It feels so good to be touching your new, large member, so you let out a low moan. You're rubbing your cock through your jeans, making it rock-hard in an instant.

Underneath your hand, your jeans widen before they turn into even tighter leather pants. You can't tell if it got tighter or if your thighs grew larger. Anyway, it feels extremely good. Squeezing your member firmly, you can tell it's already leaking slightly.

Leaning your head back, you give in to this feeling, and your head spins even faster.

But then you hear someone cackling quietly, and you remember who's with you. Unable to move or form a coherent thought, you watch your surroundings shift quickly.

The beautiful decor vanishes, and huge trees erupt from the ground. Underneath your feet, the wooden floor turns into ashes, and the ceiling breaks open, revealing a gray, cloudy sky.

Once your head stops spinning, you drop to your knees, looking down toward the ground.

"Where are we?" You cough, exhausted and drained.

"Oh, somewhere in North America, I think." You hear Ludwig say, and you lift your head to find him standing a few feet away with his back turned to you.

"What the fuck?" You raise your voice, but he just lifts his hand. It feels like a truck is standing on top of your chest. Unable to breathe or move, you look at him, turning around.

"Manners." He growls deeply and looks at you with disdain burning in his eyes.

"You just burst into my office and demanded to be heard." He takes a few steps toward you before he bows down, just enough to look into your eyes while keeping his head high. "Have some respect for my craft."

The pressure on your chest subsides for a moment, giving you a chance to catch your breath.

"I'm almost inclined to turn you into a real bear." He smirks, and as you try to say something, a deep, animalistic grunt leaves your lips.

Shocked, you wrap a hand around your thick neck. What is happening to you?

"But." Ludwig tilts his head again.

"But?" You try to say it, but you just growl like a wild animal, causing him to smirk even more.

"I will give you a chance." He turns around and walks a few feet away.

All of a sudden, you're released and drop to the ground again. Slowly, you get up, and for the first time, you look down at your new body. You feel and look so good.

"Somewhere around here, there should be a little town." Ludwig says, looking into the sky. "Find it, and I shall leave you to your new life."

He turns to you, licking his lips and running a hand through his well-groomed beard.

"What if I can't?" You ask him pleadingly.

"If you can't, I will find you instead. And make you my new plaything." He raises an eyebrow, and images flash through your mind—your possibly future, bound, strapped to a wall, forced to be an unwilling toy for this man.

Holding your head, you hear him chuckle.

"5 Days." He waves his hand again, causing a cigar to emerge inside your hand. "As a show of good will." With a snap of his fingers, the cigar ignites.

Before your eyes, he vanishes, leaving you to find this town or be his slave.

#body swap #masculine smoker #body switch #male body swap #male body switch #male tf #male transformation #bear tf #bear transformation #thedevilspatrons #male body change

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 43

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Andy arrives like a vision of Prince Charming. It’s like one of those romcoms you roll your eyes at. He’s not overdressed, just a tidy button up and slacks, his hair combed and beard trimmed. He is casually handsome, meanwhile you feel like a hog in a dress.

Dottie’s enthusiasm irks you as she answers the door. You sweep by her, no purse, no phone, only some money tucked into your dress. You’re not a charity case, this isn’t a prom date, this is pity for the depressed old woman you’ve become.

“Come on,” you pass Andy and his voice bobble uncertainly as he lets out several syllables without forming a full worm. He only manages a hurried farewell to your mother-in-law before shuffling after you.

“Um, here, let me,” he’s almost running to get past you. He opens the car door and you don’t spare him a look. 

You pause and stare at the interior, “we don’t have to go anywhere nice. You could just drive me out to the industrial park for some peace and quiet.”

He scoffs. Not a vicious sound, rather amused, “well, I’d hate to waste the reservation, so maybe we can sit outside the pillow factory after.”

You inhale and glance over at him. Just at the top button of his shirt. You nod and get in. You don’t have the energy for any of this, let alone an argument.

You sit stiffly in the seat as he closes the door with a soft click. You buckle in and lean your elbow on the groove of the door. You watch through the window as he gets in on the other side and fiddles around. Finally the engine hums, stoking the sparks in your mind. Wouldn’t it be nice if you never came back?

He pulls out through the gate and onto the street. The suburban streets have a sinister glint. You wonder if there are any others like you. Surely you’re not the only woman to discover the true imprisonment of motherhood. Money can’t buy happiness and all that, but you’re not sure there’s any such thing.

You’re quiet. You don’t have much to say. You spend your days with a little human that can’t speak or understand you, and a woman who talks too much and refuses to hear you.

“So, how’s the little one?” Andy asks.

You grumble and lean your chin in your hand, feeling the vibration of the engine in your ears. You shrug, “do we have to talk about her?”

“Sorry, I guess… I get it. You want to feel like an adult again. No one asks about you– hey, why don’t you sit back?” He suggests, “kinda awkward talking to the back of your head.”

You sigh and lean back slowly. You keep your arm bent into the door, your eyes set through the windshield. Andy’s grip tightens on the wheel as he swallows loudly, clearing his throat.

“Look, it’s been a while, but I remember what it was like. Your whole world revolves around this tiny little person and you forget who you are–”

“And what did you do, Andy?” You challenge, “were you breastfeeding? Were you sstuck in the house all day with a squirming infant attached to you? Were you bleeding and stretched out, deformed into nothing more than a used incubator–”

“No, I guess not,” he sniffs, “I was still working. Had to keep things running–”

“So valiant,” you grumble and he sucks in another sharp breath. You wince. You don’t want to be the bitch. You don’t want to think about the baby or her father or the nosy grandmother. You are out of that house, if only for a little, and you want to enjoy that. “Look, sorry, I… I’m a little rusty in the social department right now. It’s not you, and I appreciate you wasting your time trying to distract you. I’m sorry Dottie talked you into this.”

“Talked me into… no, I offered. Yeah, I know when, er, my wife was going through a rough patch, we talked, she started having days out, on her own, you know, with friends, so she could remember her old life. Maybe even keep some of it,” he explains as he steers, “and I’m not really doing you a favour, you’re doing me one.”

“Am I?” You snort, “how so?”

“Well, I don’t really have an excuse like you but I don’t go out. I don’t talk to people. I don’t do any of this, so you and me, we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

You chew on his words, on the underlying grimness in his voice. You feel a strike of guilt for your callowness. You’re wallowing in the anger of your plight, meanwhile he’s grieving memories of the same. He had a child he loved and lost them. He doesn’t deserve that pain. He isn’t wrong, you are different sides of the same coin.

“Yeah, we are,” you admit, “so you won’t mind if I forget my manners?”

“Not at all,” he chuckles, the tension rattling in his throat, “I didn’t book us a five-star table or anything, I hope that’s okay.”

“Please, I never fit in at those ridiculous places,” you pull your arm away from the door and ease back, just a little, “I had a pump before I left so as long as there’s drinks, I’m game.”

🍑

Your appetite remains finicky, you only eat half your meal and take the rest to go. However, your thirst sees you ordering three mimosas with your lunch. At the end, Andy pays, after a rather heated argument over the check. His insistence wins over as your indifference lands the final hit.

You wonder, as you come out of the restaurant, how someone like Andy, someone nice and thoughtful, could have been dealt such a shitty hand. The cruel twist of his life reminds you of Lloyd and how he was never met with the karma of his callous behaviour. The contrast assures you that the world is not a fair place, and makes you feel worse that you brought another life into it.

You’re tipsy as you get into the car. You try to shake away the ripples, suppressing a belch that threatens to break free. Andy settles into the driver’s side and glances over at you as he idles in the spot.

“You good?” He asks as you buckle in, balancing your takeaway in one hand.

“I’m great,” you say, “I… I maybe had one mimosa too many.”

“We can find somewhere to grab some water,” he offers.

“No, no,” you wave him off, smiling. It’s the alcohol, you know it, but it feels good. You can’t remember the last time you smiled. “I’m fine, promise. I can make it home.”

“Well, let me know,” he shifts gears and checks the rearview camera as he backs out, “I don’t mind making a pitstop.”

You thank him quietly and let your attention drift out the window. Your mind wanders with the aimlessness of alcohol, swirling up dredges of the past. Andy drives slowly, as if indulging your silent reverie for the city streets, and you flinch as he passes a familiar building.

You reach over and grab his arm without thinking. He taps the break, “what is it?”

You gulp and shake your head. Your eyes gloss up as you stare at the building you used to clean in, the one where your ex-husband worked. Probably, still does. Your lip trembles and you bite down on it to make it stop.

“Can you take me somewhere?” You whisper as you retract your hand.

“Sure, just tell me where to go,” he agrees.

You point him onward, down the next corner, and another. You take him on the same path you used to drive daily. There’s a pall cast over both of you as you direct him down the side street and ask him to stop along the curb.

You grip your knees, eyes stuck between your feet. You don’t know if you can look. You take a breath and steel yourself. You make yourself turn your head and you take in the facade of the duplex you once shared with Colin. You see the sign in the yard; for rent. He’s leaving. You’re almost surprised he stayed that long.

You sit there, speechless, just staring. The trance holds you. You see yourself in the driveway, laughing as you carry boxes up, bubbly and excited for your home. Then those nights where you came out in your uniform, kissing him goodbye before you marched off to your shift. The days when you would enjoy the sunshine before you slept, watering the garden, mostly weeds, and just bask in the routine. That’s all gone. It doesn’t feel like it ever was.

The side door opens and see him. Colin walks with shoulders slumped, his tie askew as he shrugs on a jacket. He reaches into his pocket and the tail lights flash on the car in the driveway. You sink down and shield your face behind your hand.

“Please, let’s go,” you croak.

Andy doesn’t ask. Not why, or who, or what. He just accepts it and puts his foot on the gas, pulling away lazily, hiding in plain sight as he continues down to the end of the street.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” you say.

“How about a movie?” Andy offers, “I’m sure there’s something good playing.”

“Sure,” you agree, eager for any excuse to stay out, to detach yourself from the life Lloyd chose for you.

#unexpected #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #andy barber #defending jacob #the gray man #drabble #series

[neonghostlights]

The Future

Warnings: death, blood, angst

“So you read palms?” You heard a voice say above the chatter of the Hawkins Winter Festival.

You had a booth decorated in red and green to keep up with the booths surrounding you but with a big handmade sign that read ‘Palm Readings $5’.

You looked up to see Eddie breaking away from his friends. He was one of the only people besides the few curious souls to not shoot you dirty looks from across the gym. You knew palm readings were controversial, especially among some of the crowds of Hawkins. Even though the palm reading aspect was a little of a facade for you, your psychic gifts were truly real.

Eddie slapped a worn five dollar bill on the table and threw himself in the chair infront of you. He laid his palm out before him with a smirk.

“Read away, sweetheart.”

You had known Eddie through school and despite his outgoing personality and his efforts to always speak to you, you never became more than acquaintances for some reason.

You graduated. He didn’t. This was your first time seeing him since leaving school two years ago.

“Hmmm…” You hummed, taking his large hand in yours. His rings brushed against the palm of your hand, sending tingles up your arm. You trailed your finger along the lines in his hands, feeling the dry, cracked skin and the callouses from the years of guitar playing.

You closed your eyes when the first vision rocked your world a die rolling across a board, cheering, a red guitar and a pretty girl. You could feel how Eddie felt through the visions, how it felt like for a day he was on top of the world.

Then the visions turned so sinister it made you feel ill. Bones cracking, police lights, twisted monsters that you had never seen before, deformed bats ripping through flesh, and Eddie lying on the dark ground choking on his own blood.

You dropped Eddie’s hand, a whoosh of air sucking down your throat as you took a deep breath.

“So what do you think? Am I gonna be a super rich rockstar?” Eddie asked, blinking at you. He was clueless to what was held in his future and the thought made you even sicker.

You stared at him for a moment trying to figure out how to tell him the disaster that it was in store for him.

“Y-yeah, Eddie,” you lied through your teeth, the words barely coming out.

“Yes!” He cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “Hey, I’ve got to go but we should catch up sometime’l he said as he stood, a happy smile on his face like you had told him you won the lottery.

You slid the five dollar bill back towards him.

“This one was on the house,” you said with a fake smile, biting back the tears.

He thanked you as he shoved the bill in his wallet and jogged off to catch up with his friends.

You packed your things up, not wanting to see anymore futures for the night, no matter how happy they might be.

The guilt ruined you. Because Eddie Munson was going to die. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson au #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst

[clockys-soul]

Here’s my human ocs of my Souls of War story (the dragonrider story) as Wof dragons.

Metis Ardor and Ymir are the parents of Hel, in my story Ymir is part of the ice dragonrider family and Metis is part of the fire one, they had Hel accidentally when they were still teenagers.

Metis is a Sky (obvi) and nightwing cuz she has black hair and her Wyvern has black scales. She has a fiery temperament, but loves her family.

Ymir is an icewing which is also self-explanatory. He is kind and loving, a very good father.

Hel Ardor-Duratus, daughter of Ymir and Metis, she’s a skilled fighter, likes to sketch and eat. Shes obviously a Sky/Ice/night. Shes one of the 2 Main characters of Souls of War.

Themis and Chronos Ardor are twins, They are Sky/nightswings, Ardor are the fire dragonrider family, hence Sky, night because Chronos has black hair and their dragons have both black scales here and there. Themis is the younger twin and she is much more introverted than her brother. They are Hels cousins.

Pyrrha is special, in my story both her and her dragon are flameborns which translates best into firescales, so Skywing. She’s related to Hel, Metis and the twins.

Gwendolyn Duratus is related to Ymir but just calls him uncle, she is very short so she’s a small icewing. I love lil Gwenny.

Styx Ardor is also related to the twins, Hel, Metis and Pyrrha. When she was young she had her throat slit which never healed correctly so now speaking more than a few words is uncomfortable for her and her voice sounds off, like a persistent whisper. She has black hair hence the nightwing blood, the sky is obvious.

Dione Duratus is Ymir’s mother. Once again, obviously she is an Icewing. She is kind and thoughtful.

Hades Ardor, is Metis' father, he is very loving towards his daughter and was very worried for her during her pregnancy (in the Ardor family exists a genetic condition which causes a deformity of the womb, usually resulting in either the death of the child or mother or both during birth if a miscarriage hasn’t occurred) but was delighted to have a grandchild. He is a Skywing for obvious reasons.

Aquilo and his elder sister Skadi, their father is a Duratus (he’s this century’s Frostborn) and their mother rides a night/Bloodreaper hybrid (Bloodreapers have frills) so Ice/night/Rainwing hybrids, their mother being the night/Rainwing hybrid. Their parents are loving and Skadi adores her lil brother and he likes nothing more than spending time with his sister.

If you take any significant inspiration from these designs for your own please credit me, these are important to me even if this isn’t their original design as they are human.

#oc #ocs #my oc #original story #dragon #dragon oc #wyvern #wyvern oc #art #dragon art #wof #wof ocs #wings of fire #skywing #nightwing #rainwing #icewing

[yuesya]

Pain.

Mind-numbing, excruciating. Mechamaru is no stranger to pain –to him, pain is a constant companion, day in and day out, stretching on and on with no end in sight.

He was born with this condition. With a deformed body that was missing an arm, too weak to even stand upright on its own, skin that felt like it was constantly being flayed and even burned beneath moonlight-

Mechamaru is no stranger to pain. It’s something that he’s used to, something that he’s already grown numb to.

And yet, in this moment –all that registers to his senses is pain, his entire body feels like it’s been shattered into a thousand different shards but cobbled together in mismatched pieces all the same, bones grating and burning and he can’t–

He can’t–

Pain burning it’s no use help no can’t stop Special Grade kill I’m dying no escape–

… Miwa… I…

A green light blooms in front of him. Mechamaru gasps, as a sudden coolness washes through his body, leaving nothing but blessed relief in its wake.

Then, a hand rests upon his head, followed by the sound of a soft, feminine voice. For a moment, the words flow over him uncomprehendingly, before he finally realizes them for what they are: Incantations.

“White,” Gojo Shiki intones, and Mechamaru trembles involuntarily beneath the swell of the other sorcerer’s cursed energy.

Another voice speaks up as the hand is withdrawn from his head. Male, mild-sounding. Mechamaru slowly opens his eyes, only to see a green-haired man with a snake draped over his shoulders step back from him. But beside him, the white-haired girl with eerie blue eyes remains unmoving.

… Gojo Shiki.

Mechamaru struggles and attempts to sit up –but it’s no use. His limbs won’t obey him. Mechamaru blinks, and realizes that it’s… wrong. The angle is wrong; that cursed spirit Mahito might’ve fixed his body, but Mechamaru isn’t supposed to be this tall. His body isn’t supposed to feel so swollen and bloated, either, almost as if–

Horror lances sharply through his chest when he catches sight of sickly gray-green skin from the corner of his eye.

Mechamaru is not an idiot. He grasps the implications of this immediately. After all, he’s seen so many of the victims of Idle Transfiguration through the screens of his surveillance puppets; how could he possibly not recognize this?

“Muta-san,” Gojo-san’s voice is calm, neutral. Mechamaru wishes that he has half of the other sorcerer’s calm in this moment –there’s something inside him that wants to scream. The whole point of everything he did was so he could join everyone and walk beside them as a normal person and–!

“Muta-san, focus.”

“What… do you want?” Even his voice is distorted, raspy and near-indecipherable. His mouth moves, but Mechamaru is barely able to form the words and force them out from his throat.

“Information,” the white-haired girl responds. “… But that will have to wait, I suppose.”

Mechamaru breathes out a harsh laugh. Yeah, I bet that’s the case. To think that he would be the first transfigured human-monster to live… there was a certain irony in that, he supposed. One that he does not have the inclination to appreciate.

“Why am I still alive?” he asks bluntly. Even with her arrival… Mechamaru would’ve expected Gojo Shiki to prioritize killing the cursed spirits and Geto Suguru over making sure that he lived. Unless… “Have I already been pardoned by the higher-ups?”

“Colluding with an unknown, malicious group of Special Grade cursed spirits and curse users is a crime, Muta-san,” she responds mildly.

For some reason, Mechamaru snaps.

“You think I don’t know that?” Of course it’s a crime. Of course it’s a crime! … But what other choice did he have? Mechamaru so desperately wanted to be normal. He’d never asked to be born with this goddamned Heavenly Restriction that left him an invalid cripple! He’d never wanted this!

He just… he just wanted to be able to walk next to everyone.

To smile, to laugh with them, beneath that brilliant sun.

… He’d wanted it so badly, but it was… impossible. Impossible, until a Special Grade cursed spirit with the ability to freely change the human form showed up on his radar, and–

What other choice did Mechamaru have?

“… You don’t understand,” he finds himself growling at the other sorcerer, who remains perfectly composed and unaffected by his agitation. Ever the image of perfection, Gojo Shiki. Gojo Shiki, who was the princess of the Gojo Clan, the blessed child who’d been born talented and powerful and would never, never be able to relate to the same desperation that clawed at Mechamaru from inside. Who could just sit back calmly and judge him from her high seat –what gave her that right?! “You don’t understand!”

“I do not,” she says. “To clarify, are you admitting to betraying the administration and aligning yourself with Geto Suguru?”

“NO!” Mechamaru roars. Because-

He wants a normal, healthy body so badly, but… he’d never truly been on Geto’s side. Because Geto wants to destroy everything, and Mechamaru cares about everyone in Kyoto High, and… and Geto was a threat to them all. It had only ever been a temporary arrangement. Mechamaru would use Geto to accomplish his goal of being healed, and allow Geto to use him for information-gathering in the meantime. Then, once he finally got what he wanted–

… ha. Just what is he saying? Just look at Mechamaru now –broken and defeated, a transfigured monster. And he only had himself to blame for it.

Mechamaru shakes his head roughly, forcing himself to refocus.

There’s… there’s another person standing next to Gojo-san. A young man with dark green hair and piercing gold eyes, and for some reason just looking at him sends a chill running down Mechamaru’s spine. There’s… there’s something truly awful about his cursed energy, almost as if–

“It’s fine,” Gojo-san has a hand held out in front of the new arrival. “It was merely an emotional outburst, nothing more.”

“Very well,” the boy says, with a brief glance towards the other sorcerer. There's something rather strange about the way he speaks, the lilt and the accent of a foreign dialect, although Mechamaru is uncertain of how to place it. “But if he is unable to control himself–”

“I will adhere to the terms of the binding vow… ah, the contract that I have promised.”

Binding… vow?

… Gojo-san… made a binding vow for him? And if he was reading this situation correctly, it was to... ensure his safety, in the monstrous form that he now wore...?

A complicated mix of emotions wash over him –shame, fear, apprehension. Mechamaru swallows roughly.

…

(“Wait, what do you mean, we’re in a different world?!”)

#Writing #genshin impact au v2 #liyue au #i think i might just call this the liyue au from now on #anyways i guess this snippet basically boils down to #'mechamaru gets traumatized' #poor boy #at least he's not dead i guess?? #zenith of stars au

[strangerquinns]

Steve x reader angst that just destroys you! With 16,34,38,48. Rip my heart out!

Steve Harrington x Reader | 1.2k+

Steve thought he'd understood pain and loss. But that was until that night at Starcourt on the fourth of July.

“Please don’t leave me.” / “Hurts.” “I know. It’s going to hurt some more, okay? Deep breaths. I'm sorry- I’m so sorry-”/ “Easy there, don’t move too quickly- you lost a lot of blood.”/ “Get out of my head!” // send me angst prompts // stranger things masterlist

For a moment everyone thought they had won. That the monster was defeated and the threat was over. But once the smoke settled it wasn't long before everyone realized that they had lost. The once pristine mall was destroyed. It was eerie to hear the pop tunes playing through the speaker system with the deformed monster lying dead in the middle.

Steve could hear the ringing from the power of the fireworks against his eardrums as he searched through the smoke for you. From afar he heard Max's screams for her older brother but that wasn't his primary concern or worry. One moment you were beside him as they raced back into the mall to save Eleven from Billy and the Mindflayer. But in the chaos of it all, you'd gotten separated.

"Steve! Steve!" Robin's shrill voice broke through, his head snapping in the direction of her voice. Something about the tone of her voice was making his stomach twist. "Steve!"

Quickly Steve ran to the other side of the courtyard and was welcomed to his worst nightmare.

You lay amongst the rubble with your limbs twisted as you struggled to catch your breath. Your eyes stared up toward the ceiling unfocused as blood pooled beneath you turning the once-white tile red. Steve felt frozen. He thought for sure this was all a nightmare and he was going to wake soon. To be lying in bed with you tucked beside him. Wrapping in the warmth of your embrace, enough to make the memory of this go away.

But that never came. He never woke up. This was happening.

"Steve! Please!" Robin screamed, snapping him out of his daze.

It was then he noticed the tears running down his friend's face. Her short brown hair was disheveled and her uniform stained with your blood.

Quickly his feet led him to you before he dropped down on his knees beside you. It was like the movement was able to help you focus for a second. A pained smile spread across your paling lips when you saw who was beside you.

He knew that he was going to have to be strong for you at this moment and not let his emotions show. But his hands shook as he reached to caress your face before looking down at the gaping wound in your side.

Robin had already taken off her work vest and placed it against your side to try and alleviate the bleeding. But it wasn't working. The blue of the vest was now a deep burgundy purple. It wasn't stopping much with your blood seeping through Robin's fingers. Steve quickly worked off his vest to add it to hers.

"What happened?" Steve asked, his voice tight and strained.

"She pushed me out of the w-wa-way. The M-Monster...Mindflayer...it's tentacle was coming at me...b-but she pushed me away." Robin explained as tears streamed down her face and she fought back her sobs.

"S-Steve," You spoke again, your hand coming up to grab his arm.

His head moved quickly to look at you. You frowned when you saw his face. Seeing his brown eyes swimming with tears. Steve was pressing his lips together so tightly they were barely visible. You could tell by his face that he was trying to act strong, giving off that nothing was bothering him.

But you saw through it.

You opened your mouth a few times to speak, but nothing was coming out. Your chest felt tight with an intense pain that seemed to come over you in waves.

Your body was also getting cold.

So so cold.

"Shhh...shhh...It's ok, baby," Steve cleared his throat as his voice cracked, "Save your strength ok? You gotta k-keep your s-stre-strength..." He turned back to Robin, "We need to tie around her waist, get the bleeding to s-stop...g-go and get something. Quick!"

Robin nodded and scrambled onto her feet before running off in search of something.

But it was too late.

Steve knew it.

Robin knew it.

You knew it.

You shifted slightly and screamed out in pain as you felt more of your body start to tear apart.

“Easy there, don’t move too quickly- you lost a lot of blood,” Steve spoke, moving to press you back down as you tried to sit up.

You cried out and let out a whine as you fell back against the floor. Your vision began to blur with tears, "Hurts,"

“I know. It’s going to hurt some more, okay?" Steve pressed harder on the wound, causing you to scream out in pain. He hated that he wa hurting you more, but he wasn't ready to give up on you yet. "Deep breaths. I'm sorry- I’m so sorry-”

Your hand tightened around his forearm to get him to focus back on you again. "Steve...S-S-Steve..."

When he looked at you, Steve finally felt his heartbreak. Piece by piece it began to crack away as he saw the finality in your eyes.

"No...No...." Steve shook his head, letting his emotions win as he began to cry harder, "You can't leave me, no-not now baby...please...you can't..."

"I-I..." You closed your eyes for a moment, the pain winning quickly

But Steve calling out your name, the pain in his voice, pulled you back as you stared up at him.

"Stay awake...ple-please...Please don’t leave me.” He moved closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours, "I lo-love you, please baby, please..."

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," Your lips quivered slightly, your voice so weak. You groaned for a moment "I-I love you...a-always loved you s-so much."

Steve whimpered and pressed his face into your neck, feeling his body shake as the sobs took over his body. He wanted to hold you one last time. Feel the weight of you against him. Steve shifted to bring you into his lap and whispered soft apologies when you whimpered.

You stared up at him trying to quickly commit his face to memory.

You were happy the last thing you were going to see was going to be the love of your life.

Steve softly caressed your face and wiped away the tears that ran down along your temple.

He whispered sweet nothings and words of devotion to you.

He felt as your final breath passed through your lips.

At that moment a part of Steve Harrington died as he held you - his cries so loud it echoed through the mall.

Steve awoke with a shock as cold sweat dripped down his back and forehead. His chest rose with the harsh labored breaths as the dream still fogged over his mind slightly. Steve's brown eyes looked around his room frantically for a moment as reality came back to him.

It wasn't long before his labored breaths were replaced with his sobs. His hands reached up to cover his face as his shoulders shook with each cry.

"Get out of my head," He screamed to an empty room, his voice breaking.

It has nearly been a year since your death and each night he was plagued with the nightmares of that night.

People tried to tell him that grief and pain got better with time. But it only got worse.

Steve sniffled and reached up to wipe his tears, but when he wiped away at his nose, he was taken aback by the red.

Blood was dripping down from his nose.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington concept #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington angst #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things angst #mmm…don’t know if I like this as much #like the idea was there but idk

[still-with-koo]

The Campaign | JJK

Series: Teaser

summary: in a dystopian world much like the hunger games, you decide to join a treacherous tournament to pull your family out of poverty, thinking the horror stories are made up. but it turns out monsters are real and they aren’t hiding under your bed.

Series master list.

pairing: jungkook x reader

wc: 501 (teaser); tbd (series)

genre/warnings/rating: 18+; dystopian au; supernatural au; angst; some fluff; enemies to still enemies, maybe frenemies; enemies to lovers; swearing; descriptions/ mentions of violence; graphic descriptions of gore, violence and pain; reader is in life or death situation; heavy mentions of death and dying; minor character death/s; mentions of mental illness and physical illness; mentions of physical deformities; references to physical and emotional abuse; imbalances in power; heavy mentions of weapons like knives and swords; some (poor) attempts at humour; the characters in this story are my own and do not reflect on the members of bts or anyone else. this is all made up and just for fun, please don’t take it too seriously!

playlist: relentless by lost stars

a/n: i had the strangest dream where i was fighting a giant and it kinda snowballed into this. took some inspiration from the hunger games & divergent as well as greek mythology bc i really love the song of achilles & circe.

taglist: (let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

Onlookers stop and crowd around as you struggle against the armed men’s grasp.

“Stop! I’m here for The Campaign!”

Your words are drowned out in the rumble of the crowd as more onlookers gather around. 

A voice booms behind the crowd and it falls silent.

“Who dares disrupt the peace?”

You continue to struggle in the men’s grasp as the crowd parts down the middle.

A very large man emerges between them. His beard is long and white, his face full and round. He has a cloak of gold and boots of silver.

The armed men start to speak, one letting go to provide the hulking man a warrant for your arrest. “Mayor Danaus, we will take away this Unauthorized and leave your tournament to begin without delay. Here is the warrant.”

Mayor Danaus.

The leader of the City. The one who is responsible for your family’s woes, the one who seeks to bring children of poor families to The Harvest where they will waste away for the benefit of the City. 

Cold seeps deeper into your bones and you stop struggling, instead letting your knees sag as you contemplate what they will now do to you. 

“Enough,” Danaus says, raising one hand in the air. The City men stop speaking. “Rise to your feet, Unauthorized. Why are you here?”

As the hands around your arms loosen, you drop to the ground with a thud. Eyes blinking open, you place one unsteady hand on the wet soil before rising to your feet. 

Your voice squeaks out a lot quieter than you’d hoped as you struggle to push words out through your parched throat. “I.. I am here to join the Campaign.”

When you look up at the large man, a gleam catches your eyes. There is someone behind him that sparkles brighter than all the chaos around you.

You blink again, wondering if you are simply imagining things, a mere hallucination like that hovering lady must have been. 

“Funny child, do you wish to die?”

“I am not a child.” Those words bounce out a lot more easily.

His laugh bellows out unexpectedly and with it, more laughter joins in chorus. It’s raucous.

You wish to put your hands over your ears, but instead you focus on the wet cloth sticking to your skin. It is much too loud in your head anyways.  

“Alright, not a child, I will consider letting you join if you answer one question,” Danaus says, and you look up at him, watching his chubby cheeks peek out from beneath his beard. “What will you do with the prize money if you survive?”

Laughter breaks out once again, as if such an outcome is so unlikely to obviously be some kind of cruel joke. A mere mortal like you could never even hope to survive.

He, however, eyes you very closely. 

Inhaling deeply, you look Danaus in the coal of his irises, defiance budding in your chest.

“I will make sure you and your men can never harm my family again.”

what did you think? any thoughts would make me infinitely happy. and if you want to be tagged, just send me an ask :)

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #supernatural au #dystopia au #lilo fics #teaser #the campaign

[yes-divine-ruler]

If its not too much to ask, could you write a Jimmy darling fic based on the song Rude by MAGIC! ? Thank you if you do😎

I’m Gonna Marry Her Anyway - Jimmy Darling

Summary: Jimmy asks for your father’s blessing to get your hand in marriage, and it doesn’t work in his favour.

CW: angst

Word count: 1421

Taglist/ @v-love @evanpetersfav @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @quicksilversg1rl @dahmevan @charsdunkie @iruzias @alexxavicry

"I wanna marry you Y/N," Jimmy said softly, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lay your head back on his chest.

Your eyes widen, turning to face your boyfriend as he offers you a small shy smile.

"Are you serious?" You say, moving to straddle his lap excitedly, his hands resting on your backside to hold you close.

"Deadly serious," Jimmy pulls you into a soft kiss, your hands moving up to cup his face.

“Let’s do it,” you speak on a whim, melting at the wide smile plastered on Jimmy’s face as he stares at your adoringly.

“You know I can’t do it without your father’s blessing,” Jimmy was traditional like that, but you knew deep down that he’d never get it.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Jimmy,” you say solemnly, breaking eye contact and resting your head on his shoulder.

His hands rubbed up and down your back soothingly, as he kissed the side of your head.

“What’s the worst that can happen, at least I tried? If he can’t see how in love we are, then maybe we just have to prove it,” you look up again to meet the eyes of your boyfriend, offering him a small, slightly hopefully smile.

You paced nervously upstairs, biting on your thumbnail, occasionally peering out the window at the driveway. Your boyfriend Jimmy, planned to arrive at your house at any moment now, with a question you knew wouldn’t be widely accepted by your family. Nothing he could do would convince your parents he was the one for you - he was a freak show entertainer, and he suffered from a deformity - no one could look past that but you, despite how nice of a person Jimmy really was, and how well he treated you.

Jimmy arrived on his motorcycle, and without another thought, you ran from your bedroom, descending the stairs to meet with the love of your life. Your father had beat you to it, opening the front door and answering Jimmy's knocking.

"What can I do for you son?" Your father spoke flatly, taking in Jimmy's appearance, the look on his face nothing short of brash.

“Hi, sir, my names Jimmy, Jimmy Darling and I’ve been seeing your daughter,” he starts, your eyes only widening from behind your father as you stayed silent in the background.

“Right? I didn’t know about this,” your father seemed irritated by Jimmy’s confession, his palm flat on the door as if he was ready to close it in his face.

As if he could feel your eyes boring into the back of his head, your father turns around to face you, shooting you a scowl.

“Is this true, Y/N?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed, creasing his forehead with deep wrinkles.

“Yes dad,” you reveal, “Jimmy and I love each other.”

Your dad laughs, turning back to Jimmy who looked concerned in the doorway.

“You love him? You don’t know what love is, look at him Y/N, he’s nothing but trouble. Isn’t he one of those freaks?” your father scoffs, as you pace to the door to stand beside him.

“You don’t know Jimmy dad, and yes, we’re in love, okay? He’s not a freak! He’s no less than you, he’s a person, just like you and I!” You almost cry in frustration, knowing that your dad wouldn’t be so easily persuaded. You can see Jimmy’s morale drop as he digs into his leather jacket pocket.

“Sir- I came here today to ask for your blessing-” Jimmy clears his throat, standing up taller, “to take your daughter’s hand in marriage. I want to be with Y/N for the rest of my life, and I mean that,” Jimmy reveals a small velvet box, and opens it to show the most beautiful engagement ring. Your eyes well with tears at Jimmy’s sincerity, and the sight of the ring that you knew had to be around your finger, whether your father liked it or not.

Your father only laughs mockingly at Jimmy’s request, causing your heart to sink to the bottom of your chest.

“You-” your father points an accusing finger at Jimmy’s chest, “-will never get my blessing ‘til the day I die.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen as your father goes to close the front door, as you reach forward to try and stop his arm.

“Dad! No!” You shout, wrapping your arms around his arm. Jimmy puts his foot in the door, pushing it back open, looking much more determined than before.

“I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice. I’m a firm believer in traditions but love me or hate me, with or without your blessing sir, we will be getting married, and you will either be there, or not; we’ll run away. You know she’s in love with me, she’ll go anywhere I go,” Jimmy’s words are sure and firm.

You father seemed taken back by Jimmy’s perseverance, looking down at you as you dig your nails into his arm.

“So you’ve already planned this then?” He asks softly, as if his anger won’t let him speak any louder without exploding.

“I told you dad, Jimmy and I love each other, we want to get married, start a family! Get a house, we’ve thought about this so hard dad,” you plead with your father. He looks at you with cold, dark eyes, before his hand comes down to grip onto your wrist.

“Get off my property before I call the police,” he says to Jimmy, before slamming the door shut.

“Let me go!” You scream as your father drags you up the stairs, “you- are never leaving this house again,” he says between grit teeth, before pushing you into your bedroom and closing the door.

When you stand again, you hysterically bang your fists on the door, “No dad, please!” You beg, before hurrying over to the window to see if you can see Jimmy.

Jimmy knows where your bedroom is, he’s helped you out of your bedroom window countless times. You see him below your window, so you go to open it, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Jimmy!” You yell down to him, trying to choke down your sobs.

“Pack a bag baby, we’re gettin’ outta here!” He replies, his hands cupped over his mouth.

There’s not a moment you question it, as you rush to pack a small bag, filling it with whatever you can get your hands on, before clasping it closed. You pull it over to the window, Jimmy now standing with outstretched arms, ready to catch.

“Throw it down!” He calls, as you toss your bag over the window sill and watch as it lands in his arms.

He puts it on the ground, and then motions for you to come down next. You climb out the window, carefully scooting on your bottom down the rusted tin awning of your house, and clutching onto the gutter pipe at the end. Taking a deep breath, you slowly let your legs fall around the pipe, Jimmy now directly under you as you let yourself slide down.

“I got you baby,” Jimmy says, the smile on his face not faltering.

His arms wrap around your waist, and pull you down onto the ground. Once your feet hit the gravel, you wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I mean it Jimmy, I’m so sorry,” you repeat, nuzzling your face into his chest.

“It’s not your fault darlin’, now come on, let’s go before your dad notices you’re gone,” he grabs onto your hand, his other holding your bag as you both run to his motorbike.

“Hey! Y/N!”

You sit on the back of Jimmy’s bike as you turn to look at your father, as he stands on the front porch with his rifle.

“Oh my god, Jimmy, hurry!” You pat Jimmy on the back, encouraging him to start the bike before your father shoots at the both of you like the mad man he is.

“On it honey, hold on tight okay?” Jimmy’s hand twists the throttle, sending you both flying forwards on the bike, your father and your childhood home becoming only a spec in the distance.

Letting out a sigh in relief, and wrapping your arms around Jimmy, you press your face into his back and close your eyes. This is where you really wanted to be, and nothing your family can say or do will ever change your mind.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader #american horror story #2nd person pov #fem!reader #jimmy darling #jimmy darling x reader #Jimmy darling x fem!reader #evan peters x fem!reader #evan peters x female reader #fem reader #ahs #ahs freakshow #american horror story fic

[pxppet]

I do wish that, with writing of JJ, people would include different types of muteness in their stories. Most people make him have what I assume is a vocal cord deformity or a removed/damaged larynx. But that barely scratches the surface of conditions that cause muteness. The majority of nonspeaking people could speak at one point or can speak depending on the situation.

Myself as an example: I have spasmodic dysphonia, which is a neurological condition where my brain sends signals to my larynx to snap shut at random when I'm attempting to speak. It's a lifelong condition that causes the muscles that generate a person’s voice to go into periods of spasm. I can speak, technically. I can make vocalizations for maybe 20 minutes worth of speech on very good days! But it causes me pain and stress the entire time. My quality of life is healthier and much happier if I use sign language and AAC applications.

A lot of conditions that cause muteness are similar, in which the nonspeaking person does not speak because it causes some sort of pain or distress. Muscle tension dysphonia, for instance, is the condition my version of JJ has. There is an abnormality in his voice box that causes him to over-use other muscles in his neck to help produce your voice. Steve-O has this condition, for example! My JJ has caused permanent damage to his voice due to Anti continuing to use his voice while possessing him even though his abnormal voice box was preventing him from speaking normally. Jameson can make strained, gravelly, whispering vocalizations, but it causes him pain. Eventually Anti has used his voice to the point he cannot speak at all due to the damage.

Selective mutism, as another example, is when a person can’t speak in certain settings, but can speak fine in others. It is usually related to stress, certain situations causing so much anxiety to the person that they are unable to speak. It is not a willful decision not to speak, it is anxiety so severe that the ability to communicate just vanishes.

As you can see, the ability to speak or make small noises for short periods of time is more common in nonspeaking conditions than a total lack of sound production. If your Jameson, for instance, had throat cancer and his voice box was completely removed, then that is different as he will not be able to produce any vocalizations. If he has this, however, he can still whistle, cluck his tongue, and make mouth noises to use as responses.

Representation of multiple types of muteness would be a dream come true for me and other nonspeaking people, who have so little representation that it's sad. Explore and learn! Branch out and learn about nonspeaking people and our struggles. Normalize our conditions by familiarizing yourself with them. The less incidents we have of people calling JJ "useless" because he doesn't talk, the better.

#nonspeaKing #mute #jameson jackson #jacksepticeye #jacksepticegos #jacksepticeye community #writing #writing advice #writing tips #writing disability #jse jameson jackson #jse egos #jse community

[weministertomonsters]

Lizardman (Kaelus) x human female reader

People told you all sorts of things when you volunteered to be the living sacrifice for Kaelus, the lizard-god who lived in the hills and blessed the villages below. He'd eat you alive and screaming or forcibly mate with you and cause you to have deformed lizard children. They speak of him with fear and hatred. So much for being their god!

Everyone makes a choice, you told the village elders. This is mine. You don't add that if not you, it would be one of your friends going instead. And all of them are so fearful, they'd probably faint at the very sight of Kaelus. No, you have to be the one to go and you will be the one to kill him, to rid the villages of this god who demands routine offerings while things really never seem to get better.

The whole ceremony takes hours. By the time the sun is setting, you've only just reached the barricaded door in the hillside that leads to the den of the god.

"Go in peace," the elders say as you walk in.

It goes without saying that no one expects you to come back alive. Well, you hid a knife in the folds of your dress and you know what you are going to do with it. There is no room for failure.

When you tiptoe down the cavernous hall, you find a small bowl-like hollow carved into the stone floor, fashioned into a nest of leaves, bird feathers and strips of dried-out soft vines. Kaelus is hunkered within, puffed up in fear, scales fluffed around his body which is nearly twice as yours, with a long sweeping tail thick enough to crush a human skull.

However, there is not a trace of violence in his form as his slitted pupils gaze at you. He looks more like an angry gecko than an intimidating creature with enough power to level a village as the legends said.

Do you even need that knife?

"What's this? Why have I been brought a human?" His voice rattles low in his throat and you realize you most likely disturbed his sleep.

"The villages wanted to request extra blessings this year, your Majesty. The crops have not been doing well."

"But why bring me a person? What use do I have for you?" He grumbles.

"I was told you would eat me. Is that true?"

"No. I do not eat human meat. Hard to digest."

"I was also told that you would mate with me and force me to have your children," you say.

His scales ripple and a rattling sound comes from deep within his chest. "See, this is why I don't like humans."

"So everything I was told was a lie?" You ask cautiously. "You don't want to hold me prisoner?"

"No. The door to my den is that way, if you can get it open. In fact, I would appreciate it if you simply leave. There is no need for your weapon to be drawn."

"How do you know I have one?" You frown and glance down.

The knife is still hidden away from sight in the folds of your skirt.

"Look, I don't blame you for feeling the need to protect yourself... Can you leave now?"

You fold your arms. "You're not really a god, are you?"

"Again, a very not-true stoty. I don't know who decided that I was one. All I wanted to do was live in peace. But no, first humans decide my kind are evil and kill most of us off. Then dozens of years later they decide the ones who remain are gods. I cannot bless crops or give a barren woman children or whatever else is wished of me."

"And you never told the elder that?"

"No one would listen even if I did. Besides, I preder to be treated like a god than for flaming sticks to be thrown into my den to flush me out to where swords and spears wait to pierce my hide."

You run your gaze over his curled up body, noting the places where scales have been split by scars, all old. "You've already been in some battles."

"W-why are you still here? What nefarious schemes do you have now?" He replies.

"I have an offer to make. If you let me stay here for awhile, I will not tell all the villages that you are a fraud."

"So you choose to blackmail me." He sniffs contemptuously.

"Even if I go home without saying a word, people will still be suspicious. Sacrifices aren't supposed to come back," you explain. "Besides, now that I know the truth, I have to help my friends and family. The next offering is in a month's time. They will bring food and valuable trinkets-which I assume from the looks of your den- you won't use. I'm going to sell them and buy good quality seeds and clothing for the winter."

"Throw away your weapon and we have a deal."

You obey, tossing it away into a dark forgettable corner.

"Just to be clear, I'm not afraid of you. And it's clear my presence makes you uneasy," you say, before beginning to poke around the den while he watches you.

There isn't much to find. So you approach his nest and try to pull out a sizeable twig. He flails in a panic and his tail knocks you over into his nest. You fall over the edge and right on top of him. He freezes like he's trying to play dead. The only indication that he is still alive is his heart thumping in the great expanse of his chest. He's so much bigger when you're up close like this.

"Get off," he says hoarsely. "Before I go mad and do something I will regret."

"Easy," you say comfortingly, patting his chest once before you pull away. "I'm sorry, I should have asked you first. I want to build a fire and the only source of wood is your nest. It's going to get really cold in here the further the night goes. I have nothing but my clothes to protect myself from the cold."

"You should have said so," he mumbles, rising from the nest and shaking himself off. "I know where to find wood. Wait here."

He lumbers on two clawed feet further into the den. It looks so odd to see him walk on two feet. Like this, he resembles a man a lot more, with broad shoulders and a taut belly. You swallow and look away for a moment.

"You're not as bad as I imagined you'd be," you say slowly.

Kaelus makes a rasping laughing sound that bounces off the cave walls. "So are you. You are not as intimidating or cruel as the humans with the spears. When you fell on me, you were soft. I did not know humans were so soft."

He comes back with an armful of wood and you show him how to make a fire and make sure the wood is dry enough so it doesn't smoke too much. Enraptured, he crouches before the fire.

"Such warmth! I did not know it was possible," he sighs.

The reflection of the flames dance in his eyes. Despite his slitted pupils, they are filled with joy and wonder. It's so hard to be scared of him when he looks so utterly harmless. And that's why even though you don't mean to, you eventually fall asleep by the fire.

#terato #monster x reader #exophilia #monster fluff #monster boyfriend #monster fucker

[sailortongue]

Fright Night

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: dustin cooks up a plan to get you to snuggle with eddie. all it requires are a few horror movies.

an: horror is my favorite movie genre and i'm tired of yn being a wimp about them. plus 80s horror has a special place in my heart bc they're so bad but in a good way? n e ways here's a fic where yn actually likes scary movies

wc: 1.9k

tw: mention of sexual assault (in a movie they watch)

eddie/stranger things masterlist

——————

Dustin was a menace. Eddie was sure of it when he first recruited the freshman to Hellfire, but, if there had been any doubts before, they were gone now.

“So let me make sure I have this right. You want me to get Yn to watch horror movies with me just so she’ll get scared and cuddle with me?”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah. I heard from Steve that it works like a charm.”

“Have you forgotten that we’re already dating? I could just ask her to cuddle.”

Dustin groaned, “C’mon, Eddie. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, Halloween’s coming up. Get in the holiday spirit.”

Eddie was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. “Fine, fine. I’ll ask .”

Dustin saw you approaching the table first, and quickly threw a grape at Eddie from across the table to get his attention. Eddie’s head snapped in Dustin’s direction, about to tell him off until he saw you placing your lunch tray down. Dustin cleared his throat and not-so-subtly jerked his head at you. Mike and Lucas didn’t outright say anything, but they were definitely looking at Dustin as if he’d lost his mind.

Eddie got the hint. “Hey, Yn, would you wanna come over to mine tonight and watch movies?”

“Yeah, sure, sounds like fun. What kind of movies are we thinking?”

“Horror?”

Your face brightened, excitement practically bubbling out of you. “Yes! I love horror movies!”

“You- You do?” said Eddie, shocked.

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?” You asked, to which Eddie shook his head. “Huh. Guess it never came up then. Which is odd, because I watch a lot of them. Once got grounded because I told my little sister that Freddy targets bad kids, and if she didn’t go to bed on time then she was being bad.” You smiled a little at the memory of your naive little sister, not thinking much of it, but Eddie was second guessing the whole plan, as was Dustin.

You finished your food quickly, already returning your tray. When you came back, you didn’t sit back down. Instead, you grabbed your bag, saying bye to the table. “Wait, where are you going?” questioned Eddie.

“Library. Gotta review for that calculus test. And shouldn’t you be studying, too?”

“All work and no play makes Eddie a dull boy.”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile indicating that you didn’t really mean it. With that, you left the cafeteria, leaving Eddie to scold Dustin. “So what now, genius? I was warming up to that plan, and now it probably won’t work at all.”

Dustin thought for a moment before speaking. “Talk to her when you get the chance. Find out what kind of horror movies she’s watched. Wouldn’t want to rent something she’s already seen, y’know? Then report back to me after last period.”

——————

“Dude, she’s seen movies I’ve never even heard of. There was one she was telling me about with a killer who talks like Donald Duck and only kills pretty young women. And another about a guy who carried his deformed twin brother in a wicker basket and went around killing the doctors who separated him and his twin because they were conjoined. There was even one about ‘cannibalistic humanoid underground dwellers?’”

Dustin winced. “Yikes. I don’t think I can help you with that. Talk to Steve and Robin. They work in the video store, so they’re bound to know which movies to get.” He mounted his bike, apologizing for not being of more help. “Good luck!” he called out, already pedaling off.

The bell above the door dinged as Eddie walked in. Steve and Robin were at the counter bickering about something, not noticing that a customer had walked in. “Excuse me?” interrupted Eddie.

“Oh my God hi, I’m so sorry. Um, how can we help you?” she spoke quickly.

“I was wondering if you could recommend some good horror movies?”

“The freak renting horror movies? Who would’ve thought,” muttered Steve under his breath. It wasn’t quite loud enough for Eddie to catch it, but Robin did. She stomped on his foot under the counter. “Shut up,” she hissed, turning her attention back to Eddie. “We have a lot of horror movies here. Uh, is there a particular subgenre you're looking for, or…”

Eddie shook his head, “No, no, just anything decent, really.”

“Well, there’s always The Exorcist. That one is a pretty popular rental. Evil Dead, too. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be super scary. Oh! There’s one that came out recently called Reanimator, if you’d like to try that one.”

“I’ll get all of them. Trying to get into the Halloween spirit and all.”

“Sure thing!” chirped Robin. “I think we have all of them in stock…”

With the tapes sitting in his passenger, Eddie was on his way to your house to pick you up, where he found you waiting on your front porch. He grabbed the tapes to get them out of your way as you climbed in, handing them back to you to hold while he drove. You flipped through them, wanting to know what he’d picked out.

“Ooh, you picked some good ones,” you commented.

“Tell me I didn’t pick a bunch of movies you’ve already seen.”

You laughed, “Nah, I’ve just heard they’re good. I was too young for The Exorcist when it first came out and just never got around to it. And my dad’s rented Evil Dead before but returned it before I could see it. Can’t believe he watched it without me. And Reanimator is super new, so I haven’t seen that one either.”

Eddie signed in relief as he pulled into his driveway, putting the van in park. If you’d already seen them, then you definitely wouldn't have been scared. As soon as you hopped out of the van, Eddie’s neighbor’s dog decided that barking its head off at you was a suitable greeting. “Friendly as ever,” you said sarcastically. “They should have named you Cujo.” Eddie chuckled at your commentary as you followed him inside.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable in the living room. I’m gonna get some snacks.”

You did as he said, taking the tapes with you and plopped yourself on the couch. You turned the TV on, seeing nothing but static at first, to which you gasped dramatically, “They’re here.”

Eddie laughed, catching the reference. “You might need to fiddle with the antenna.” You got up from where you were seated to see if you could get a clear signal. It took a little bit of effort, but you finally got it, the familiar Civic TV logo being displayed.

“Dunno why my uncle loves that channel so much,” said Eddie, walking in from the kitchen, an impressive pile of snacks in his arms.

“I have a friend who likes this channel. Pretty sure it plays porn sometimes.”

Eddie groaned and made a disgusted face. “I just said my uncle watches this channel, don't go telling me it plays porn.”

You tried to keep your laughter down, but the shaking of your shoulders gave you away. He threw a bag of chips into your lap, “Be quiet and eat your snacks.” It did nothing to quell your laughter, but Eddie wasn’t truly upset, so it really didn’t matter. You tossed the chips back on the coffee table, digging to see what else he’d brought. “Is this alcohol?” you asked, scanning the bottles.

“Yep,” he said, popping the P. He picked up a green bottle. “Look! Even got Tenafly Viper!” he said excitedly, offering you the bottle.

“No thanks,” you declined. “That shit’ll melt your insides.”

He shrugged, placing the bottle back down. “Suit yourself. So, which movie are we starting with?”

“The Exorcist.”

Eddie smirked, “The Exorcist it is.” He got up to place the tape in the VCR.

You were eager to start the movie, but of course ads wouldn’t let you do that. If you had to listen to that stupid jingle for The Stuff one more time, you were gonna blow up the factory.

Throughout the movie, Eddie waited for some type of reaction from you. Nothing. You were watching the screen intently, completely engrossed, but not scared. You even laughed, yes laughed when the girl’s head did a complete 180. By the end of it, Eddie had not come anywhere near the goal of Dustin’s plan. “That was so good!” you gushed.

“I thought the point of horror movies was to scare you? That’s what makes them good, right?”

“Ok, so I didn’t think it was scary, but it was still good. 10/10 would watch again.”

“Let’s see about this next one. Robin said it was really scary.” He got up to return The Exorcist to its box, replacing it with Evil Dead. Once again, you were hardly phased, the biggest reaction from you being when the girl got grabbed by evil vines. You looked really uncomfortable at the scene, and rightfully so, but made no move to go to him for comfort, simply clutching the blanket a little tighter around yourself. Some of the gore had you flinching, causing you to place your unfinished bag of chips on the coffee table, but that was all. The movie soon ended, and Eddie was left with one more chance; this whole ridiculous plan of Dustin’s hinged on Reanimator being one of the best horror movies ever made. Eddie popped the final tape in, returning to his spot on the couch. As the ads played, he turned to you, “Were you really not scared by any of that?”

“No,” you answered. “I’ve seen so many that I guess I’m just kinda desensitized to them. I still really enjoy them, I just don’t get scared as easily, y’know? Why do you want me to get scared so bad anyway?”

Eddie averted his eyes, embarrassed to tell you the truth. “Dustin came up with this plan to watch scary movies with you so you’ll cuddle while watching them.”

“Oh, Eddie,” you sighed, reaching out to push his hair back so you could see his face. “If that was what you wanted all you had to do was ask.”

He let out a drawn out groan, “That’s what I told him when he suggested this stupid plan.”

You chuckled at his words. “That’s what you get for listening to a silly freshman.”

Eddie didn’t respond, opting instead to pull you into his side. “Hey, that silly freshman has a girlfriend, so he’s gotta know something, right?”

“I still don’t believe Susie exists. Or Jane for that matter.”

“I don’t either, but the guys didn’t believe we were together either, so maybe we should give them the benefit of the doubt,” he said. He had a point, so you had to agree with him there.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as the movie began, snuggled together on the couch. In the end, Eddie got what he wanted. There was a scene in Reanimator of a girl getting sexually assaulted by a decapitated head that had you hiding your face in his chest, disturbed by the imagery. Thinking back on what Dustin said, Eddie understood why Steve did this with dates; it was nice to be looked to for comfort. Overall, he considered fright night a success.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things x reader

[irisinthemoon]

Until I Found You, Pt. 5

[Pt. 1], [Pt. 2], [Pt. 3], [Pt. 4], [Pt. 5], [Pt. 6]

Warning: F!reader, little but of angst, mentions of Rollo's brother, will have a scene from the movie 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame' but at the very beginning, nothing to detailed. long shopping trips, fluff

Characters: Rollo, Eliott (Oc), Jules (Oc), characters from 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame', one or two random Oc's

Summery: With only a day left for the week long festival to begin, you go help Rollo with a few last minutes preparation along with buying outfits for the closing ball. However, a weird vision leaves you perplex and worried.

______________________________________________________________

Where were you? One moment you had been chatting with Rollo as you helped him plant a few purple flowers in preparation for the Masquerade. The next, you found your mind drifting into a hazy enclosure, bringing you here, standing in what seemed to be the City of Flowers but older. You could see the Bell of Salvation in all its glory, even the familiar path you took with Rollo to go into the city was there.

Frowning, you tried to move your body, but it remained stuck in the same place. You couldn’t even speak or call out to anyone. Suddenly, the image of the city shifted to the inside of the Bell Tower, where you and Rollo ate breakfast every day. 

To your surprise, this time, someone was there in contrast to when you first appeared into the gray and white City of Flowers. It was a young man, he had a hunched back and it was clear he looked different from other people you have met. He was wearing a tunic of sorts, hair cut in a way that covered his face with his bangs. He was gazing at the city below, a whimsical smile on his face. 

You smiled at that, it was nice seeing others appreciate the city you have grown to love. 

But just as quick the smile went away when a man, older from what you could tell, walked into the room. His face was contorted in a permanent scowl, as if he had taken a bite out of a lemon and the taste never left. Immediately you felt something off about him. 

“Remember what I taught you, Quasimodo. You are deformed.”

“I am deformed.”

“And you are ugly”

“And I am ugly.”

Anger formed in your chest, the way this man was talking to the other boy, Quasimodo was just horrible. But no one deserved to be treated this way, especially for things that they had no control over. Everyone was different in their own ways, but that didn’t make them worth any less then others. 

Once again you tried to speak, but your mouth would not do so, even your body remained motionless. You could only watch helplessly as Quasimodo was berated. Just as the older guy finished, the black and white images in front of you once again became hazy. A wave of dizziness took over your body, causing you to stagger forward and into a pit of darkness.

___

“{name]...[name]....[name!]”

Snapping your eyes open, you gasp in surprise. The colorful flowers and banners greeted your sights instead of the gray and blacks from before. Just beyond, you could see the Bell Tower, no sight of Quasimodo. The familiar cool hands you have come to welcome pull you out of your thoughts.

Green invades your vision, worried eyes stare at you for a moment, the flowers that Rollo had been planting momentarily forgotten. “[Name], are you alright? You were staring into empty space for a while.” He asked, holding your shoulders in a gentle grip. Swallowing the lump on your throat, you nod meekly. 

“Y-Yeah, just thinking about something…” You trailed off, not knowing what else to say. Rollo frowns, worry begins showing into his face more clearly. He places the palm of his hand to your forehead, “You don’t feel warm, can you stand up?” You nodded, and with his help rose to your feet. “Let’s go inside and take a break, I can always send someone else to take care of this.” 

It wasn’t heat that affected you, this you knew because you weren’t even wearing the school’s uniform. Because of the warm day, you decided to just wear the gym’s uniform much like Rollo was doing now. The gym uniform allowed you to keep cool and not overheat. 

“I’m fine Rollo, really, just a little disoriented. It’s been a while since I came outside properly.” You try to give him one of your usual smiles, but you can tell it isn’t working. He still looks worried, something in your chest flips. “I’ve been cooped up in my room for almost the entire week trying to finish off Prince Malleus’s costume, just this morning I managed to finish his hat.”

“You should have told me if it was going to take you this long to finish, I would have sent over people to help you.” You shake your head, “It’s fine! I volunteer for the job anyways! Plus, the important thing is that I finished it on time.” Pulling his purple handkerchief out of his black pant pockets, Rollo covers the lower part of his face.  

“You should not put your health at risk for someone like Draconia,” Then, he takes a piece of your hair and fiddles with it. “Take care of yourself, I know I have told you this more than once but please be careful, things here aren't the same as they were in your old world.” Placing the piece of hair behind your ear, he sighs. 

You pressed your lips together, should you tell him what you saw? You wanted to but, you also weren’t sure how he would react to it. Heck, you didn’t even know what it was or what it meant. For all you knew, it could be just your tired mind playing tricks on you. Taking hold of his hand before he fully pull away, you grasp it into both your hands and really give him a genuine smile. 

“I’m fine Rollo, really. I just needed to catch fresh air and as I mentioned, I was just thinking about the festivities and let my mind drift away.” Giving a gentle squeeze, you let go and crouched down to pick up the flowers you were planting earlier. Rollo stays quiet, a light blush on his cheeks which you right off as the heat of the sun has its effects on him.

“C’mon, let's finish planting these flowers so we can spend the rest of our Sunday choosing a costume for the Masquerade ball. I wanna be able to hang out with Jules, Eliott, and you.” Digging a fresh hole for the flowers, you hum in delight. You hear how Rollo sighs but follows your steps. 

The vision you saw nagging at the back of your mind.

_____

Frowning, you sigh and shake your head. No, that one didn’t fit at all. Placing the dress back you keep browsing the gown section. Rollo was a few feet away with Jules as both of them looked at different Masquerade outfits. Eliott was with you, he had already selected his outfit and was currently helping you choose a dress. 

After the two of you finished planting the flowers, you insisted on taking a quick shower in order to go to the city’s boutique with Jules and Eliott to pick a costume for the ball. Now the four of you found yourselves here, spending the rest of your Sunday evening before being flooded with duties tomorrow with the welcoming ceremony and performances. 

Tomorrow was the start of the one week celebration that ended with a Masquerade Ball to end it. You were a little nervous, after all, this was your first Masquerade, not just here at NBC but in your entire life. You may be the daughter of famous people, but they hardly let you go out anywhere.

And even if you could, you had no friends to go with.

“So, enjoyed your little date with Mr. President?” Startled, you turn to glare at Eliott who had a shit eating smirk. “Fuck! Don’t sneak on me like that!”

“Language.” Rollo’s warning voice is directed to the two of you, his eyes looking at the two costumes Jules is holding. You don’t need him looking towards your direction to know he is directing that more towards you. You chuckle nervously and nod, even if he didn’t see it, and turn back to Eliott.

“We didn’t have a date. I saw him planting flowers by himself and decided to be a good student and friend by helping him.” You stated, crossing your arms over your chest. Eliott continued to smirk, clearly not believing you. 

“Sure, whatever you say Mrs. Flamm.” 

You hit him with one of the hand fans nearby. Face full-blown red, you casted a look over your shoulder to ensure that Rollo and Jules were facing the other direction before hitting Eliott again, this time harder. “Shut it! I don’t need him to hear that!”

“Aw, c’mon [name]! It’s so clear you both like each other!”

“Just because I like him doesn't mean he shares those feelings!” 

Rollo saw you as a friend, you were sure of it. He was open about his emotions to not only you but to also Jules and Eliott. You were no special exception, plus, from what Jules told you; Rollo didn’t have any other friends other than the two of them before coming here. You had been added into his circle because he was helping you in your stay in Twisted Wonderland. 

It had not been intentional to fall for him. At the beginning you saw him as a good classmate, someone who was responsible and was willing to help you despite not knowing who you were. Then you started to see him as a friend, someone you could count in despite him being busy with his own stuff. He always lended a helping hand and never asked for anything in return.

You didn’t know when you started to think of him as more than a friend. You had no clue when admiring his skills turned into admiring him in general. Or how you would wait for him to walk to class, eat together, even borrowing his sweaters and shirts. 

Eliott groaned, “Great Seven, you have that lovey dovey look on your face.” He pokes your cheek, “You only get that look on your face when talking or thinking of Rollo.” Swatting his hand away, you sigh and go back to the dresses. A minute goes by and you believe Eliott has dropped the subject as he is typing on his phone. 

“Alright that's it!” Grabbing your arm, the peach haired color boy pulls you towards a section farther from the one Rollo and Jules were in. “W-What are you doing?!” From the corner of your eyes, you could see Jules do the same thing Eliot was doing, Rollo looking like a startled cat. “I am going to help you with that sad love life of yours! Starting with finding a dress that will leave Rollo’s jaw on the ground!”

“What?!”

And you were whisked away with no say in the situation at all. 

The next two hours or two were spent with Eliott throwing dresses your way, approving of some and disapproving of others. A worker even had to come and help you at a certain point with all the dresses Eliott had chosen. Your feet were sore from standing up, and you were hungry. You had once wished to know the feeling of going on a shopping spree with a friend, now you are not so sure if you wanted to do it again. 

Pinching your nose bridge, with your index finger and thumb, you let out an irritated huff. “Hold still, I need to check if this color goes well with your skin tone.” Eliott placed a dress next to your body, humming while deep in thought. “Sometimes I forget that you were a former member of the Fashion club.” You said tiredly. He gives you a grin, “Former president of the club dear.”

“Yeah, yeah…are we almost done?” 

“Nope.”

You groaned. Your fingers itched to grab your phone and call Rollo for help. Surely, he has noticed your lack of absence by now. Glancing towards the right corner of the boutique, your gaze landed on a purple dress close to the window display. Eliott had gone to return the blue dress he had pulled from the nearby rack. “Excuse me, can you bring me that dress over there?”

The worker looked to the direction you were pointing and nodded with an excited smile. “My, what an excellent choice you made! I will go fetch it for you in a moment dear!” The worker, a lady who seemed to be in her late twenties, walked with a hop to her step towards the dress. Something about the dress called to you, maybe it was the purple skirt or the corset. 

“Here you go, miss!” By the time the lady had come back, Eliott had returned, in his hands he had another dress that he immediately discarded in one of the nearby racks and gently took the dress the lady had gotten for you. “This one! Oh, this is the one!” Without a moment's notice, he shoved you into one of the changing rooms with the dress.

With a huff, you sigh and roll your eyes before looking at the gown in your hands. The fabric was silky and very beautiful. The purple wasn’t too bright or too dull, it was just perfect. Once more, you took off your clothes and began slipping into the dress. You gasp in how easy it was to put it on, the material taking the shape of your body. 

For one, the dress didn’t feel rough or itchy. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you could only stare in amazement. The dress really fit you, it made you look different. “Do you need help zipping the dress dear?” The lady asked from outside the changing room. Looking away, you call back. “Yes please!” In fluid motions, the lady enters and gives you another smile. 

Closing the curtain behind her, she tells you to turn around and pulls up the zipper. “There! And look at you!” Once more, you gaze into the mirror and can’t believe that the person standing in front of it is you. “Let’s go show it to your friend.” She pulls you along, albeit a lot gentler than Eliott.

“Wow…” Is the first thing Eliott says, his eyes wide in shock. You glance away, feeling flustered with all the staring. Fiddling with the dresses’ sleeves, you do a mini twirl. “So, does this fit your fancy?” You ask jokingly. Eliott nods, a big and bright smile on his lips. “This one is the one!” Taking you by the hand, he twirls you again. 

You giggle, content that your friend managed to find a dress for you. Even though you would have been fine with any dress. “Alright, we will be taking this dress ma’am!” Eliott says to the lady. “Very well, when you are ready, take it to the front then.” And with that, she takes her leave with a content smile. “Does this mean we are done?” You asked hopefully.

Eliott grins, “Nope! We still need to buy other accessories and shoes!”

You let out a defeated groan.

_____

“This is the first and last time I ever go shopping with Eliott…” You grumbled, biting into the tender chicken. Rollo sighs tiredly, the cup of coffee he had ordered halfway done. After another hour of looking for shoes, jewelry, and a mask to go with the dress, the four of you were done for the day. “You were the one who wanted to bring them.”

“Yeah, well I thought it would have been a fun shopping trip. Not us turning into mannequins.” Leaning back onto the chair of the booth, you stretch your tired and sore legs. Great seven, the amount of high heels you had to try on before setting on a silver pair had you crying on the inside. 

“And to top it off, Jules and Eliott ran off with our outfits!” You continued to rant. Your two so called friends had made sure to pay for the costumes at different times so you wouldn’t see what the other chose. Then after they were all in the boxes, they ran off spouting some bullshit about doing a last minute errand. “When I see that peach-haired bastard I will kick his ass until next week.”

Rollo chuckles weakly, and wow, he must be running low on energy if he didn’t even reprimand you because of your language. Not that you blamed him, after a long day of shopping, the both of you decided to stop at Rollo’s favorite restaurant and eat before going back on campus. The food was your reward for such a long and exhausting day. Finishing the rest of your food in silence, you let your mind wonder about the activities planned tomorrow.

“You will be welcoming the people from NRC and RSA tomorrow right?” You asked, Rollo nods, a new cup of coffee in his hands. “Yes, Jules and Eliott will be accompanying me.” That means that you wouldn’t be able to have your usual routine of breakfast and morning walk. “Guess we won’t be able to see each other until the afternoon.” Maybe it had been your tiredness or just the excitement running through your body that gave you the courage to lay your head on his shoulder.

Rollo stiffened, but relaxed after a few seconds. Hesitantly, he held your hand, his cup of coffee on the table. “Hey…can I join you guys in showing the guests around?” Rollo hums, “Don’t you have to perform the welcome and opening ceremony?”

“Well, yeah, but I mean after I do that. I won’t have anything to do after the performance and I don’t feel like going to the food stands or playing the local games without you or the other guys.” Pressing your cheek against his shoulder, you take a peek at him. “Plus, I wanna meet Yuu and Grim.”

Placing his hand on top of your head, he gives you a gentle pat. “Very well, once you finish with the welcome and opening ceremony we will wait for you at the entrance of the battle arena.”  

“Why would you wait for me there?”

His lips quirk up just a bit, “Because the first place I will take the guests is to the battle arena to see the performances.” You let his words sink in, your tired mind slowly processing the information he was giving you. “Ah! Right! The whole point of calling it a welcome ceremony is because we are trying to make them feel welcome and the opening ceremony is to officially begin the week-long celebration.” Dear lord, you must be tired as hell if you managed to forget that small yet important piece of information. Grumbling under your breath, you leaned in further into Rollo. 

The third year boy stayed still, his green eyes on your figure. Fondness in his eyes as he watched your eyelids flutter shut, the activities of today taking their toll on you. Pulling you close to him, he gazes out of the window of the booth you sat in. Tomorrow would be Monday, the official start of the week-long celebration of the Masquerade. 

Meaning that Malleus Draconia will be there. 

At this, he frowns. He would have preferred it if you wouldn’t join him on touring the City Of Flowers to the guests. Just the thought of Draconia being near you along with those hooligans from NRC and RSA made him shiver in disgust. When it came to magic, he didn’t like it when it was near you. 

But he wouldn’t prevent you from wanting to learn more about it. Rollo isn’t the type of person that oppressed others just because he didn’t like something. Looking back to your sleeping face, he felt a pinch of guilt. He knew that what he was about to do on the day of the ball would hurt you. Not physically, but you would feel betrayed. And while that also hurt him, he just couldn’t let it go.

The image of his brother, crying for help as he reached out towards him was engraved into his memory. During dark nights, he would stay awake, not being able to sleep without his face appearing in his dreams. He had vowed to get justice for what happened to him, starting by eradicating the very thing that killed him.

Something that could also kill you.

He will do what he has to do in order to protect you, even if it means hurting the city he has grown to love. And maybe you will hate him, resent him for his actions, but that was fine. As long as you lived in a safe world, then everything was fine.

#twisted wonderland #twst x y/n #twst x reader #twsisted wonderlnad x reader #twst wonderland #rollo twisted wonderland #rollo flamm x reader #rollo x reader #twst rollo x reader #twst rollo flamme #twst nbc #noble bell college #twst oc #twst masquerade #twst angst

[whumpinggrounds]

Writing Facial Difference

As always, this is based in personal contact with individuals in the community I’m writing about, as well as personal research. Many of these things are subjective and limited in scope. Take everything with a grain of salt, and if you have an issue with anything I’ve said, or just a different perspective, please feel free to question, comment, or clarify!

Vocab

Facial difference is exactly what it sounds like. Many resources define it more technically as anything above the neck that is visibly different from the majority of other people. This term is used by everyone from burn survivors to people with cleft lips, to people with vitiligo. Note that facial difference does not necessarily mean disability.

Visible difference is related to facial difference, but even broader. Visible difference is anything about one’s body that is visibly different from the majority of other people. Not all disabilities are visible, and not all visible differences are disabilities.

Congenital differences are those that one is born with, which can be the result of an inherited condition, random mutation, or genetic condition. A genetic condition is congenital, but a congenital condition is not necessarily genetic. In the case of facial difference, examples include any number of craniofacial conditions.

Acquired differences are those that occur in the course of one’s life.  Examples include scars or burns. 

Episodic facial difference is a visible difference that comes and goes. Examples include rashes or skin irritation.

A condition is a set of symptoms that have a common cause. Condition is a good word to describe visible difference or disability in a neutral, nonspecific way.

A syndrome is a set of symptoms that occur together whose cause is not known or understood. Syndrome, while neutral, is a medicalized term and is not often used to describe visible difference or disability in a nonspecific way.

Survivor is preferred to victim in describing facial difference acquired through injury. For example, “burn survivor” is vastly preferred to “burn victim,” “acid attack survivor” is preferred to “acid attack victim.”

Someone may have a visible disability that makes their face look different, but this isn’t usually referred to as facial difference if it’s part of a broader diagnosis. For instance, people with achondroplasia, a common form of dwarfism, have distinctive facial features that are part of this condition, but aren’t likely to describe themselves as or identify with the facial difference community.

Avoid: deformed, disfigured, defect/birth defect. A specific diagnosis/description is preferred, or the more neutral phrasing of “genetic condition/medical condition.”

Disfigurement is in some places a legal term, so may be used in that context. I have not personally encountered or read of anyone who would describe themselves as disfigured or wants to be described that way in a personal context.

Medical Aspects

Does your character’s facial difference affect the way they breathe? They could use supplemental oxygen or an inhaler to open their airway. They might have a trach or a BiPap or C-Pap they use at night. What effect does this have on their ability to exert themselves physically or what environments they can tolerate?

Does your character’s facial difference affect the way that they eat or drink? Are there foods or liquids they can or cannot chew or swallow? Are they at increased risk for choking, and if so, how do they manage that? Do they eat or drink by mouth at all? How does this affect where they eat or drink, and with whom?

Does your character’s facial difference affect the way they speak? In order to produce standard speech, people make use of their throats, vocal cords, tongue, and lips. Are there sounds your character can’t make? Is the volume of their voice affected? If speech is difficult, what other communication methods might they use?

Does your character’s facial difference affect one or more of their five senses? How does that affect the rest of their life? What adaptations would they have made?

Does your character need to care for their face in different ways than a person without their difference? They might use different methods of skincare, take medications, or have increased support needs.

Does your character’s facial difference affect how their face moves, particularly in terms of expression? Facial expressions communicate a lot to the people around us, and help express emotions as well as form bonds with others. How does your character’s facial difference change their ability to visibly emote and connect? Do they worry about being misjudged or misunderstood?

These are just a few questions to get you thinking about how your character’s facial difference impacts the rest of their life. Since facial difference is an extremely broad category, I’m not going to give specific advice here, but having a specific diagnosis in mind, and knowing how it affects your character, is key to an accurate and thoughtful portrayal.

If the answer to all of these things are “no,” and truly the only affect of your character’s facial difference is that they look different, I gently suggest you think about why that is.

Describing Facial Difference

This is really tough to give advice about both because facial difference is very broad, and because it can be an extremely sensitive subject for many. The best way I can think to advise is to imagine that a loved one of yours has the facial difference that you’re describing, and they’re reading your description of it. It may be tempting to use dramatic or striking words, but they can be stigmatizing and hurtful to readers.

As listed above, please try not to use words like deformed, disfigured, or defect/birth defect. Try not to use descriptors that focus on how strange, frightening, or shocking someone’s face is. It is possible to describe facial difference accurately without using harmful or othering language. Even if it is your character doing it - “That’s how they see themselves! That’s not how others see them.” That’s a cop out. Please be thoughtful.

It’s okay to describe facial difference, but try not to dwell on it in description. Paragraphs that render exactly how your character’s face is different from others focus on that difference at the exclusion of all other characteristics. Let me say it again: It is totally okay to describe facial difference! Spending longer than necessary/longer on this than any other thing is not great.

Don’t forget to describe their other features! Sure, they have a port wine stain across their cheek, and that’s relevant to how they look, but they also have a big gorgeous nose! Or thin lips that they’re always biting! Or freckles that only show up in the summer! You get it.

A facial difference might affect how you describe the motion or emotion shown on your character’s face. If they have facial paralysis, you probably can’t write your character smiling or frowning. If they have a skin condition, a blush may present differently on their cheeks. It’s okay to write about how a facial difference affects these things - remember to make the portrayal consistent.

It’s okay for characters to have feelings about their facial differences. It’s certainly accurate to real life. Having negative feelings about one’s facial differences does not mean that someone, or a character, is shallow or unenlightened. People can live happy, fulfilling lives and still not like the way their face looks. 

That being said: Let your characters have their feelings about their facial difference, but if that is something your character thinks about obsessively, consider why that has to be the case. Think carefully about the way your character talks to and about themselves and their facial difference.

Let your character love their face! Let your character feel completely neutral about their facial difference! Let them hate the way other people react, but not think about it at all in private! There are lots of emotions to explore besides “I’m different = I’m ugly = I hate myself and my face.”

Finally: What do you (and maybe your character) consider to be an “average” face? A beautiful face? Do these ideas line up with others around you/your character? How might dissonance with a broader population affect these ideas, or put your character in conflict with others? Are there people out there who may not have the same condition (if your character has a medical condition) but may share those facial features? What impact does that have on your character?

Etiquette

Facial difference should not be stared at, pointed at, called out, or commented on by respectful people in your story. Obviously, your character could experience bullying or harassment, and that’s fine to write about, but be aware that however innocently intentioned, these things are rude at best.

Neither you as the writer nor other characters should refer to someone by their facial difference. Neither person-first nor identity-first language is appropriate when referring to someone by their physical difference.

To clarify in case these terms are unfamiliar: “guy with the partial jaw” is no better than “partial jaw guy” in this situation.

People with visible or facial difference may have strong feelings or memories around mirrors, being photographed, or seeing photos of themselves. This could be from discomfort with their appearance, but it could also be from photos being taken without their consent, or because of a dissonance between how they look now and how they used to, or a dissonance between how they think they look and how they actually look. This is something that you should probably flesh out and think about when developing your character.

Other characters should not disclose this character’s diagnosis. It is, however, okay for others to give information about a character, especially if that information is relevant. For example:

“He has facial dysplasia so he doesn’t like going out.” = Not good. “Sometimes people make comments about how he looks and how he eats. We should check in before we make plans to eat out.” = Much better.

This next is a controversial one, and people should feel free to weigh in. I am giving this advice on the word of people that I personally know, but other people may feel differently, and I respect that.

Here goes: It is okay to give people a heads up about someone’s facial difference, in writing or in reality. People can have involuntary reactions that are really hurtful, whether they mean to or not, and knowing in advance can help to limit the impact on someone who probably gets a lot of negative attention from strangers already. How those heads up are given, and if/when they are felt to be necessary, is a choice to think very hard about. But it can be useful and even necessary, especially with young kids. Appropriate examples below.

“Hey, just so you know, my friend Suzie who we’re going to meet has a medical condition that makes their face look different.”

That’s it. That’s all it needs to be.

Rethink

Villains with facial difference. Do you think maybe we have enough villains with facial difference already? The different = ugly = evil moralistic writing trope is a little played out, no?

A subtrope of this is “someone acquires a facial difference and becomes a villain. Once again, morality being tied to how someone looks is just not great messaging.

Shallow or evil character acquires a facial difference and Learns A Lesson. Disability is not a lesson, nor is it a punishment for bad morals or bad behavior. Think about the beliefs and messaging that undergird this narrative.

Only enlightened characters can see beyond facial difference. The entirety of Wonder is basically this, and real people with facial difference are tired of seeing it. Being able to treat people with facial difference with respect and dignity does not make anyone a saint, nor should others reacting to facial difference be the primary purpose of your character with facial differences.

Love will save you. Love, however true and real, will not solve someone’s insecurities, traumas, or deep feelings about their facial difference. Being truly, deeply, genuinely loved, whether romantically or platonically or familial-ly, is a powerful beautiful thing, but not a cure-all.

“I don’t even see your facial difference!” This doesn’t always ring very true. “I don’t think about it,” “don’t notice it,” or even “don’t care about it” can work better, but “I’m so accepting I don’t even see it” is a bit over-the-top.

Resources

In a truly depressing turn of events, when I looked this up, hoping to find more positive representation, I was met only with discussions of villains with facial difference. So. Limited resource section, here.

Autobiography of a Face by Lucy Grealy was a bestseller when it first came out in 1994, and in my opinion, stands the test of time. It is an autobiography of a woman whose face is changed by surgery and chemotherapy through her experience of childhood cancer. It’s a nonfiction memoir that deals primarily with themes of illness and recovery, childhood, self-esteem, self-image, and the perceptions of others.

North of Beautiful by Justina Chen Headley is a young adult novel about a girl with a port wine stain, which primarily deals with young love, self-esteem, and self-image.

Avatar: the Last Airbender notably features Zuko, a burn survivor with facial scarring who starts the series as a villain but is redeemed by the end of the show, in ways that do not exploit his facial difference as fuel for moral decay or moral growth.

I am begging people to add media they know that has characters with facial difference because those three are literally the only positive examples I can come up with. Not to sound like Tr*mp but: Very sad!

Anyway, that is what I have for now, will likely rehash much of this (and more!) if I write up something about visible difference. Let me know if you have requests, feel free to ask me questions, and as always - Happy writing!

#disability writing guide #writing facial difference #characters with facial difference #facial difference #disabled characters #writing disabled characters #writing disability #disability representation #representation matters

[littlenighttales]

Spoilers up ahead for The Sounds of Nightmares, Chapter 5. Live thoughts as I listen through, so not necessarily entirely accurate. Afterthoughts in parentheses.

I got a surprising amount of attention on the last one from you guys, so I really appreciate that you enjoyed reading my thoughts (:

A Deluge of the Inevitable

So Otto says that Noone was being used by the Ferryman to speak? Last night, I dreamed I could fly. These are two entirely unrelated things. I just wanted to share.

Noone was right about still being sick. Tumor. So the water sickness was a type of cancer? I figured it was more in line with a more simple but harder to kill parasite.

Otto’s mentor had written that the key to reach the Nowhere could be fear.

“It’ll blossom year after year, just like you.”

Awwww, that was kinda sweet, Otto. But I still think you’re sus.

Noone wanting to open up about her parents. She sounds like she really needs hugs ):

Demands for no machines to be wired up to her.

CiCi is Otto’s sister? I guess Otto did mention it being a long time ago, but… still, I didn’t expect that. So the idea of Six having a big brother in canon is kinda wholesome, though now that I think about it, never thought of Six as British (rather, pictured her to be Japanese). That is still assuming CiCi=Six, though. With only one episode left, I’m not sure we’ll get any confirmation.

In Noone’s nightmare, there are a lot of other kids peeking down on her from above. She’s down in a tunnel.

Monster with a sack over his shoulder. Sounds like squeaking shoes. And rising sewage. How pleasant. Not a threat for now. Leech in the water?

Nope! Nome! :D Nome, Nome, yeah! *excited hand flapping*

There’s a girl delighted by the Nome, wanting to take it, maybe wanting to eat it. But Noone saves them, so that means she joins RK and Rain (and Frisk) in the Mushroom Friend Protection Club. Also dang, rich Nome living like a king.

Theme sounds a bit like the Lady’s theme for a brief second? Are we in the Maw? (Probably definitely not.)

The man that had carried a sack was wearing a rubbery suit. The sack was the back of his head. Spine deformed, whole body sounds like. The Janitor? Doubtful, from description, but possible. Noone mentions the place itself had deformed him. (Definitely not him, I’m just reaching here.)

Noone remembers the other kids- Jester, the kid with gooey hair, and Rusty. So Noone jumps from her hiding place to save the Nome. Kids above are probably porcelain bullies, or at least related in a way.

The monster has some sort of gadget to detect… something.

And the Nome tried to abandon Noone ):

Otto falls asleep- also my tablet wants to correct his name to potato. When she’s awake, Noone continues.

And a LOT of Nomes appear (:

But… a wave of sewage water comes blasting through, taking Noone away. The Ferryman appears now, though Noone isn’t sure he’s evil.

Also his voice isn’t what I pictured. Seems a lot more demonic than I pictured. Almost like Colony’s (Halo Wars 2 character, if anyone is curious) voice, with the reverb.

The kids in Little Nightmares seem to have some afflictions cured when they’re taken from how Noone talks. Their problems are gone. I’m assuming this is only disease, maybe some mental illnesses as well, but I doubt all. Mono still having a LOT of problems (damn you, Signal Tower).

Noone floats the idea that Otto might not be a good guy. Otto catches her ruffling around paperwork in his desk and straight up gets rid of her. He tells her a tumor is in her brain, kinda coldly. He’s definitely being a dick, but at least he reflects (that he was too harsh on a literal child. Noone is like seven or something, dude. You’re an adult. Act like it and have some hecking empathy and stuff.)

Otto theorizes that the tumor is a gateway to the bad place. But hearing his voice right now makes me want to punch him in the throat. My tablet was right to compare him to a potato.

Later, he watched her sleep. Hooks her up to those machines he promised against using. Her little voice….. )’:

“Otto… you promised….”

Why is this stories so darn heartbreaking?!

Noone’s nightmaring while Otto watches, the machine seems to be able to see an outline… then, Noone starts glowing like the sun and disappears (?)

Whatever Otto was watching watched back. Maybe it took him rather than her. That’s what he wanted, after all. And that’s it for this episode. (Could also be one of those laser eyes that turn kids to ash in the Maw and Nest. Maybe a proxy of the Eyes from the Signal Tower?)

So the fifth episode probably on episode 3 level of quality so far. I still think episode 3 was peak, so that’s pretty high comparison. Pretty close to a tie.

#little nightmares spoilers #the sounds of nightmares #episode five #spoilers #ln spoilers #A Deluge of the Inevitable

[burningvelvet]

On June 23rd, 1816, Percy Shelley and Lord Byron got a boat together and set out on a sailing trip around Lake Geneva while sightseeing and reading Rousseau’s famous novel Julie, which takes place there. Percy chronicles this in his and Mary’s joint publication (her first publication), History of a Six Weeks’ Tour. They don’t name-drop Byron for privacy, but call him their “companion.”

Day 1, June 23rd, 1816 —

Percy Shelley, History of a Six Weeks' Tour:

“It is nearly a fortnight since I have returned from Vevai. This journey has been on every account delightful, but most especially, because then I first knew the divine beauty of Rousseau's imagination, as it exhibits itself in Julie. It is inconceivable what an enchantment the scene itself lends to those delineations, from which its own most touching charm arises. But I will give you an abstract of our voyage, which lasted eight days, and if you have a map of Switzerland, you can follow me.

We left Montalegre at half past two on the 23d of June. The lake was calm, and after three hours of rowing we arrived at Hermance, a beautiful little village, containing a ruined tower, built, the villagers say, by Julius Cæsar. There were three other towers similar to it, which the Genevese destroyed for their own fortifications in 1560. We got into the tower by a kind of window. The walls are immensely solid, and the stone of which it is built so hard, that it yet retained the mark of chisels. The boatmen said, that this tower was once three times higher than it is now. There are two staircases in the thickness of the walls, one of which is entirely demolished, and the other half ruined, and only accessible by a ladder. The town itself, now an inconsiderable village inhabited by a few fishermen, was built by a Queen of Burgundy, and reduced to its present state by the inhabitants of Berne, who burnt and ravaged every thing they could find.

Leaving Hermance, we arrived at sunset at the village of Nerni. After looking at our lodgings, which were gloomy and dirty, we walked out by the side of the lake. It was beautiful to see the vast expanse of these purple and misty waters broken by the craggy islets near to its slant and ‘beached margin.’ There were many fish sporting in the lake, and multitudes were collected close to the rocks to catch the flies which inhabited them.

On returning to the village, we sat on a wall beside the lake, looking at some children who were playing at a game like ninepins. The children here appeared in an extraordinary way deformed and diseased. Most of them were crooked, and with enlarged throats; but one little boy had such exquisite grace in his mien and motions, as I never before saw equalled in a child. His countenance was beautiful for the expression with which it overflowed. There was a mixture of pride and gentleness in his eyes and lips, the indications of sensibility, which his education will probably pervert to misery or seduce to crime; but there was more of gentleness than of pride, and it seemed that the pride was tamed from its original wildness by the habitual exercise of milder feelings. My companion gave him a piece of money, which he took without speaking, with a sweet smile of easy thankfulness, and then with an unembarrassed air turned to his play. All this might scarcely be; but the imagination surely could not forbear to breathe into the most inanimate forms some likeness of its own visions, on such a serene and glowing evening, in this remote and romantic village, beside the calm lake that bore us hither.

On returning to our inn, we found that the servant had arranged our rooms, and deprived them of the greater portion of their former disconsolate appearance. They reminded my companion of Greece: it was five years, he said, since he had slept in such beds. The influence of the recollections excited by this circumstance on our conversation gradually faded, and I retired to rest with no unpleasant sensations, thinking of our journey tomorrow, and of the pleasure of recounting the little adventures of it when we return.”

UPDATE: I took my dates from Shelley, but his dates must have been confused and Byron's must be more accurate. Because I'd been confused by Byron's dates in the past, since he often wrote past midnight (thus often referring his prior day as "today"), I had assumed Shelley was more trustworthy. According to Shelley and His Circle vol. 4 pp. 700-701, they left on June 22nd which was a Saturday, and so I believe each day of their trip would be one earlier than I and Shelley stated in these posts.

Taken from Shelley and His Circle:

"TIMETABLE OF THE LAKE GENEVA TOUR

June 22, Saturday: Sailed from Montalègre, slept at Nernier.

June 23, Sunday: Sailed from Nernier, slept at Evian.

June 24, Monday: Sailed from Evian, encountered storm off Meillerie, slept at St. Gingolph.

June 25, Tuesday: Sailed from St. Gingolph, saw the mouths of the Rhone, visited Chillon Castle, landed at Clarens, visited bosquet de Julie, slept at Mme. Pauly's house (Place Gambetta) at Clarens.

June 26, Wednesday: Visited Le Châtelard, and the bosquet de Julie, sailed from Clarens, visited Vevey, slept at the Hotel de l'Ancre at Ouchy.

June 27, Thursday: Visited Gibbon's house at Lausanne, slept at Ouchy.

June 28, Friday: Remained at Ouchy.

June 29, Saturday: Sailed from Ouchy, slept at [?Rolle].

June 30, Sunday: Sailed from [?Rolle], arrived at Montalègre."

#i wanted to start this yesterday #regret #shelley and byron’s sailing trip #literature #english literature #aesthetic #poetry #lord byron #percy shelley #romanticism #romantics #english romanticism #romantic era #romantic poets #sailing #travel #geneva #the geneva squad #geneva squad #lake #beauty #writing #history #dark academia #rousseau #books