#and they certainly went too far to try and regain these things

[chainuuser]

Sokovians who were fucked over in 2015 and lived to make the world regret it

#wanda maximoff #baron helmut zemo #i love them. #I rewatched tfatws and thought about the tragedy it is that these two haven’t met yet #obviously they’re on their own paths and want vastly different things #but if you boil down their ambitions they are similar. #things have been taken from them. they believe that they deserve them back #and they certainly went too far to try and regain these things #so it makes you wonder if they were ever on the right path to begin with in their own respects #anyway. #tfatws #wandavision #mcu #marvel #marvel art #mcu art #baron zemo #zemo mcu #wanda mcu #age of ultron #canadasart

[punsmaster69]

21/JAN/20XX

[There are a few random scribbles on the top of the page.]

——

whoops.

i meant to write sooner, but that's all i got down before conkin' out, apparently.

me and tori went for a picnic by the river. it's a short ways out of town, not super far given we're located near the edge of it.

notably, there's no ice floating in this river.

at some point i had leaned over to look at the glistening water, sparkling in the sun, when i realized something i definitely should have noticed sooner.

albeit small and slightly faint,

i have a scar on my face.

"You did not realize?"

"no. how long's it been there?"

"Since the whole 'explosion' incident that kicked this issue into high gear."

"i don't know how i didn't see it."

"Well... it is true that you're only recently regaining full vision back, is it not?"

"yeah."

i tossed a rock into the water, the ripples making my reflection warble.

"And you are certainly not the type to look in the mirror often."

"true."

"That, and it really is quite faint - hardly noticeable, in honesty."

toriel took my face in her hand and gently moved it to see the scar closer.

"I think it may even disappear entirely, as long as you don't repeat the injury."

"don't plan on exploding any more eyes."

"I don't imagine the last one was exactly planned either..."

"fair point."

"i'll try not to recreate it again."

she dropped her hand from my face, letting it fall onto my hand instead.

"didn't expect to start the new year with a badass scar."

"I do not think 'badass' is the right word."

"what, you think it looks lame or somethin'?"

"The scar is caused from your lack of self-expression. That is not a very 'badass' story behind-"

"it's technically caused by something 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 by the self-expression thing."

"That is essentially the same thing."

"no. i can just say 'my eye exploded' and it'll be true."

"And if they ask why?"

"uhhh."

"i'll tell 'em it's a skeleton thing."

"A skeleton thing?"

"yup."

"there's a lot of skeleton-specific things, y'know."

"it's believable."

"Could you give me an example?"

"of my skeleton things?"

i fought a short internal battle and immediately lost.

"whoa. right here?"

"you wanna see my skeleton thing?"

tori cackled.

"That is not what I meant, you bonehead."

"don't know that have one of 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦.."

"?"

"A b-"

she covered her mouth when she realized and smacked my shoulder.

"Dirty!"

"you're the one who asked to see-"

"Stop this!"

"Scandalous skeleton."

"like i said. you definitely asked."

i reached over, grabbing her bottle of tea and taking a sip.

"not like i've really got one."

"..That is my bottle."

"yup."

"You're aware?"

"yup."

"Then why?"

"food always tastes better taken from someone else."

trying to take the bottle from me, tori leaned across the picnic blanket. i sat back and held it further away. she continued leaning. we kept going until i was on the ground. her hands around my wrists pinned me in place.

"Ha!"

it took effort to not think about her weight on mine.

"I wonder if it tastes just as good stolen back?"

it was hard to think at all.

"alright. you got your drink back."

"can i be unpinned now?"

"Unp-"

"OH!"

tori scrambled to release me.

"I'm so sorry, Sans."

"I hope I was not hurting you."

"definitely not."

"...."

"...."

"It tastes just the same."

"you can steal mine if you want."

"It is alright."

"how are you ever gonna 𝘵𝘦𝘢 the difference if you don't?"

"It is hardly stealing if you've given me permission."

"..ok. aaah, noo, don't steal my drinkk! how could youu?"

"Pfft."

"Yelling is certainly not your forte."

despite declining previously, she decided now to take a drink from my bottle.

"or even capitalizing."

"Maybe you're right."

"hm?"

"It 𝗶𝘀 better stolen."

"what'd i say? it always is."

"I wonder 𝘸𝘩𝘺 that is."

"the added flavor of thievery, of course."

"Shall we just swap bottles, then?"

"sure."

"i hope the thievery flavor doesn't add too many carbs."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"i'm trying to watch my figure. can't keep this hot bod without a few sacrifices."

"Dad bod, maybe."

"less of a dad bod. more of a father figure."

"Hehehe."

"I do certainly prefer you big-boned, though."

"well. in that case."

i grabbed a bag of chips from our picnic basket.

"I am on a bit of a diet as well."

"yeah?"

"A seafood diet."

"........."

"seafood, huh?"

"I 𝘀𝗲𝗲 food and I eat it!"

never honestly laughed at that one before now.

i'm certain i've ironically gotten a shirt with that printed on it for alphys once. now i'm thinking that i should get one for tori.

——

trying to open and shut the front door as quietly as i could, i immediately broke the silence by dropping my keys in the dark. papyrus' door opened.

"shit."

"SANS? ARE YOU HOME?"

"..yeah."

"sorry for wakin' you."

"WHY WERE YOU OUT SO LATE AGAIN?"

"just out and about."

"YOU ONLY ANSWERED ONE MESSAGE THE WHOLE TIME."

"sorry bro. got distracted."

" 'OUT AND ABOUT' DOESN'T REALLY EXPLAIN WHAT YOU WERE DOING, EITHER."

to my dismay, he flicked on the lights when i got to my door.

"........"

"SO YOU ACTUALLY WORE THAT TURTLENECK."

"can't let it rot away in my dresser forever."

he folded his arms and leaned against the wall outside my doorway. i didn't bother closing the door.

i tossed the turtleneck into my room and slipped on a random unfolded shirt.

"I TAKE IT YOU WENT TO SEE MS. TORIEL, THEN."

"let's not do this."

"I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING."

i did the same with my capris, kicking them off and replacing them with my usual shorts.

"..AT LEAST I KNOW YOU WERE IN GOOD HANDS."

sighing, i stepped out of my room and flicked the light down.

"gonna go not-think on the couch. i promise not to have the tv too loud."

"DON'T STAY UP TOO MUCH LATER, PLEASE."

"ok."

"AND EAT SOMETHING, IF YOU HAVEN'T."

"ok."

"REALLY. DON'T STAY UP LONG."

"i won't."

"goodnight bro."

"GOODNIGHT, SANS."

#undertale #journal #sans #toriel #soriel #sans x toriel #toriel x sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #smiles cutely #: )

[i-need-entertainment]

Angel

Character: Akutagawa x reader (gn)

Warnings: Angst, final goodbyes, mentions of killing and general port mafia violence

Based off of/around this song..bolded/italics = song lyrics

“Angel, oh oh oh

Knew you were special from the moment I saw you”

Akutagawa coughed into his fist, taking a moment to regain his breath as he shifted the collar of his coat to shield the lower half of his face from the bitter winter wind, gray eyes taking in the view of the setting sun from atop the Port Mafia Headquarters building.

You weren’t lying when you said the sunsets of Yokohama were something else- the vibrant orange and violet hues almost brought him a sense of peace.

Almost.

Letting you go wasn’t the hardest thing he had ever done, and it couldn’t have possibly been the most painful.

Yet who could’ve known the Black-fanged-hellhound of the Port Mafia would be so affected by your absence.

“'Cause all I see are wings

I can see your wings

But I know what I am and the life I live “

Akutagawa remembers how puzzled he had been when you came to him that afternoon- fidgety and nervous as you asked him to accompany you somewhere private to talk.

Though he was far from perfect the 20 year old him shudders now, cringing as he remembers his 16 year old self’s brash tone and condescending questioning of what you could possibly have to ask him that required privacy. 

It was a miracle you went through with your confession after that, and an even greater miracle you put up with him for almost 3 years. 

Three years…had it really been that long you had remained by his side?

Some part of him- the selfish part of him, hadn’t wanted to let you go at all. 

Desperate to keep the one person who had truly seen him for him. Who had seen his deepest darkest flaws and loved him anyway. Given him a chance to be the human that had been buried long ago by human cruelty.

You had been the light of his life, a true gift from above.

But you didn’t belong here- in the mafia, committing acts that haunted you in your dreams and grasped at your soul when you closed your eyes, grappling and pulling you down into despair as the grip your anger had held on your conscious slowly but surely fell. The event that had pushed you into the mafia no longer held you there, and after a fateful encounter with a member of the armed detective agency, you defected.

He had wanted to hate you, tried to hate you even, but his previous despair at your constant unhappiness far outweighed his own feelings on the matter.

He was a devil, the mafia was his home.

It was no place for an angel such as yourself.

“You'll probably never take me back and I know this,”

After you defected he had looked for you.

Not due to the bosses orders to have you brought back and dealt with, nor to try and convince you to come back on your own accord. In fact he never had any intention of speaking to you at all though he wanted nothing more.

He would search when he was meant to be sleeping, spend just a little too long on missions close to the agency for the chance to catch a glimpse of you- anything to be sure you were safe, you were cared for and most importantly,

That you were happy.

He had never been a star boyfriend, and he was nothing short of clumsy when it came to anything related to feelings or romance- but he had truly tried to be the partner you deserved, loved you with all his soul even if his ways of showing it weren’t considered normal or even desirable to most.

He didn’t quite know how to show affection, he wasn’t good at accepting compliments or favors and he certainly lacked in the comfort department- but he had loved you truly and with his entire being.

He still did, and maybe the feelings would fade with time, but he knows his heart will always be yours.

Even if that meant your heart was no longer his.

“I hope you find somebody”

After almost a year  he had finally found you.

He had been careful to remain unseen when he stumbled upon you, chatting and laughing with a member of the agency as you walked back to the office after what he presumed was your lunch break.

Your steps seemed lighter, your eyes were brighter and you seemed at peace.

The two of you had been a strange pair for sure- his terrifying and intimidating presence softened by your presence and his anger and hatred calmed by your gentle words and affections. 

He had snapped when Chuuya had mentioned just how tightly he was wrapped around your finger- though he supposes he proved his senior’s point when his glare shifted into a pout at your laughter, grumbling and trying to save his pride as if he’d ever do anything to cease your laughter.

He sighs as he turns to return to headquarters, heart aching but content at seeing you safe and seeing you happy- 

And then he sees it.

Hanging around your neck was the necklace he bought you all those years ago for your 17th birthday.

It hadn’t been sold, or thrown away.

It wasn’t sitting at the back of a drawer or strewn into a random box to be thrown away later.

It was sitting as snugly on your neck as it had the day he had given it to you, glimmering in the sun just as you had glimmered a hint of normalcy into his otherwise dark existence.

He turned away and headed hastily back towards headquarters.

As he walked he wondered if you thought he hated you.

He deeply hoped you knew otherwise.

“'Cause all I see are wings

I can see your wings

But I know what I am and the life I live”

When you defected you had left him with a letter, detailing the reasons for your departure from the mafia world.

Included in your letter had been an apology, a declaration of the love you held and would always hold for him, but your deep sorrow that the two of you had chosen different paths and after the last mission you had been given, you were left with no choice but to follow that different path.

He tried hating you.

He had tried getting Rashoumon to rip it to shreds, though he had quickly abandoned that approach and shoved the letter into his desk drawer, storming out of his room before he lost control and destroyed it.

Months later he had reclaimed the letter from his drawer, hands shaking as his anger had subsided and the reality of your departure had set in.

You were gone, and he held no hatred towards you for leaving.

In fact, as time went by, he felt relief.

“I hope you find somebody”

He brushed his hair out of his face before he returned his hand to his pocket, gray eyes continuing to take in the Yokohama skyline as his thoughts drifted back to this afternoon.

The eventual confrontation between you had been inevitable, fighting on opposite sides was bound to reunite you sooner or later, though not under the conditions either of you had hoped.

You had drops of blood running from the cut on your forehead, your right arm clutched your left as you had seemingly dislocated it- you were nowhere near up for a fight.

Your eyes shown with surprise, eyes widening as the reality of the situation sets in.

You tried to get into a fighting stance, but your injuries made that impossible. You knew of his power better than anyone else, killing you would hardly be an arduous task and you were sure he despised you for what you had done to him.

His coughing brought you back into the moment, you took a deep breath as he walked towards you, eyes closing softly as you accepted your fate. At the end of the day your reasoning didn’t matter, you had betrayed him, you had betrayed the mafia, taking your life would simply be following orders.

Yet as his footsteps stopped in front of you no new pains plagued your body, nor were you being ripped to shreds by the fibers of his cloak.

Instead you felt his cool hand gently hold your cheek, thumb lightly sweeping across your cheekbone. Your eyes snapped open, tears brimming your eyes as the unsaid and repressed emotions you shared threatened to burst from your chest.

“...Are you happy?”

You blinked before your hand came up to hold his against your cheek, relishing in the touch of the man you had never once stopped thinking of.

You took in a deep breath, using your limited strength to keep the sobs that threatened to wreak havoc on your weakened body at bay. You nodded, biting your tongue as you sighed.

“Yes.”

“...and you are doing well? You have people who care for you, yes?”

You nodded your head again, smiling through the tears that spilled past your lashes and down your cheeks, heart cracking as he softly wiped them with the handkerchief you had gifted to him all those years ago.

“Good…I’m glad..” 

He paused before gently pulling your head towards his, gently touching your forehead with his as you closed your eyes once again, relishing in the feeling of having the man you loved more than anything be so close to you.

He had always been clumsy with affection, but gently touching your heads together made him feel as if he could pass along all the love and feelings he held for you and would never be able to share, he knew that’s not how it worked but it always seemed to get his point across when you were together.

He pulled away, hand gently taking yours before he gave you one last look. 

“Live well, Y/n”

Though he may not have smiled, his eyes were soft with care as he turned and left, using his ability to leave quickly before his heart overpowered his logic and you found the strength to get him to stay.

“I hope you find somebody”

You sucked in a breath as you realized your hand was no longer empty, but clutching the handkerchief he had slipped gently into your hand.

His handkerchief.

His last and final goodbye.

Slumping to your knees you cried as you held it close, the small pendant of the necklace he gave you shimmering in the afternoon sun as you felt an immense weight drop off of your shoulders.

He didn’t hate you. In fact his eyes held the same affection they held for you all those years ago, when you were just two lost kids who found someone to be a little less lost with.

“I hope you find somebody to love”

He hoped he hadn’t caused you too much pain.

The sun was almost completely set, the orange and violet hues he had watched appear had melted into the deep blues and indigos that now paint the sky dark. The moon had begun to rise as the sun was nearly invisible.

He sighed as he closed his eyes, tilting his head back as the chilled evening breeze swept across his face. Being in this weather wasn’t ideal for his lungs but at this moment he didn’t care, Gin could scold him for it later.

Right now he needed to pretend he was okay with his decision to let you go for good, like after seeing you again and touching you again he didn’t still need you like he needed the air in his lungs.

Letting you go was not the hardest or most painful thing he had ever done, and will ever do for that matter.

The hardest and most painful thing he ever did was letting you stay gone, having you slip between his fingers and having to fight himself back from reaching out to grab you, to pull you back into his arms and never let go.

Letting you go a second time knowing there will be no third.

That this was the final goodbye..

Though Akutagawa knew he never would, he wanted you to move on. To find someone who loves you and who you want to love, find someone who could love you better than he ever could.

“Angel, oh oh oh

Knew you were special from the moment I saw you”

Yes there will be a pt.2, you can all thank qui for her threats💕💕

#Spotify #in almost 3 years of writing never has something i wrote made me cry but this one did HKSDHDBJDJ #akutagawa x reader #still sobbing #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #bsd x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #bungo stray dogs x reader

[hyba]

The Star Seal, drafting

I haven't worked on my Scareuary stories much this past week, as I'm a bit sick. Something about the creative thinking work involved in the writing of a story was a little too much; but now I'm starting to feel a bit more up to it, and I decided I would also start sharing the drafting of my short story wip "The Star Seal".

"The Star Seal" is about an archaeologist who, late one night while working in a museum, removes a star seal from a life-sized ancient statue, unleashing a monster...

This short story is the one that I've been sharing as a Write-With-Me type of thing, so I've been drafting directly on my blog, and now I'm going to be sharing that draft here. It hasn't been edited, and is a very first draft. I'll reblog with any additions, but to get the full process and behind-the-scenes, you'll want to follow it on the blog.

So, without further ado, I present to you my horror story in the works, The Star Seal.

The statue was an oddity, as far as statues from the region went. Perhaps of Akkadian origins, it depicted what seemed to be an anthropomorphic creature, with the head of a woman, and the clawed legs of some kind of raptor - perhaps a vulture. The figure wore a robe, but there was something about it that seemed stiff, thick, not quite... fabric-like. There was what seemed to be a headdress, though the sculptor hadn't been particularly detailed, and it might have also been a pair of wings. While the position of the wings was strange, it was not unknown for the Akkadians to present Ishtar as a winged creature. For that reason alone, and the fact that the figure seemed evidently female, and that it had been dated to the Akkadian period, many scholars believed this to be a statue of Ishtar.

He wasn't so certain. Something about this statue was... off. He ran his fingers over its stone surface, taking note of every single ridge, bump, indent, and abnormality. In fact, the whole thing was rather a strange abnormality, when taking into consideration contemporary pieces of art which held a realism to them that this could not begin to replicate. 

Certainly, it was an unsettling piece, with its sunken eyes, staring darkly out at him, and its life-sized proportions, but so were many depictions of Ishtar. It was entirely possible that this was a nuanced and unique representation, but he simply couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else to it. 

The carriers had helped him move the statue, such that it lay upon a table, tilted slightly onto one side, so that he could investigate and study it more thoroughly. Were it not for them, the small, peculiar, circular figure at the bottom of the pedestal upon which the statue's clawed feet were clenched might have gone completely unnoticed.  

It was perhaps five inches in diameter, and seemed to jut out ever so slightly from the rest of the statue's base. The circular piece depicted a nine-pointed star with a circle around it. At first glance, he almost conceded. Clearly, if the very symbol of Ishtar was engraved in the bottom of the statue, his previous suppositions of false identity were wrong. But Ishtar's symbol was an eight-pointed star, not a nine-pointed star, and he generally speaking, people didn't make such mistakes when it came to these things. 

What did a nine-pointed star symbolize? He wracked his mind, but found nothing. Deep in thought, he reached out and traced the edges of the stone seal with his fingers. As he did, he felt it give slightly. To his astonishment, the seal turned in its place. Fascinated, he turned it little by little until he felt a significant cluck, and out the seal came, a cylindrical thing of perhaps seven inches in height. 

For a moment, it was all he could do to stare blankly at the stone cylinder in his hand, and stare again at the gaping hole where it had been hidden. A chill rushed up and down his spine, and he shook himself slightly, trying to regain his composure. This was new. This was a new discovery - nobody else knew of this, or it would have been in the notes! 

He glanced around, half-expecting his supervisor to step into the room and take the star seal from him, but of course that was nonsense. He was working late - that was the deal. If he wanted to do any research of his own, he'd have to stay after hours and do it. But, during work hours, all he worked on was his supervisor's research, his papers, even his darned blog posts. Any discoveries made during that time were his supervisor's discoveries, and any mention of his hard work or contributions almost never happened.  

He was thankful, of course, to have even that opportunity. It was like the old man to deny him all chances completely, but he'd been in a rather good mood of late, due to a terrible book of his getting a feature in some magazine or other, and of course he'd taken advantage of the situation immediately. 

So, this was his time. And this was his discovery - he was going to make sure of it. Nobody was going to take this away from him.

#writeblr #writing #amwriting #horror #the star seal #my wips

[justatypicalwizard]

Wants Within | S. Shinazugawa | Chapter 12

✦ Sanemi Shinazugawa x femReader!, college au, reader is adult

✦ Synopsis: You're a college student taking classes with a very strict lecturer- professor Shinazugawa. Because of an unfortunate even you got on his bad side so now you're trying everything to regain in his eyes. Well, you most certainely didn't expect that kind of attention.

✦ Word count: 1k

18+, minors do not interact

You slowly woke up, consciousness greeting you. Checking the time, you spotted it was evening, the first day of the year. Well, parties always end up like that.

Wait, but you were not at any party. You were with someone, with a man. With your professor, banging him on New Year's Eve.

Oh god. You hid your face in your hands. No, it was not out of embarrassment, it was because of the thrilling excitement you felt.

After the first round that ended really quickly, Sanemi changed his condom and took you once more. This time your legs were on his shoulders and he was grabbing your juicy ass slapping it and giving you even more of himself.

You went to the bathroom and took a shower. The hot water reminded you of yesterday, or today maybe?

He brought you up, your legs squeezing his hips and your hands gripping on his chest as you rode him out.

Shaking your head, you giggled a bit. One could think that after a night like that you would be cancelled at the university. Well, not after what the two of you talked about.

Both of you lay down in the vast and comfy bed, the black sheets cuddling your naked, tired body. Your enthusiasm slowly rode out as you started to process the whole situation. Giving the man a glance you let out a shaky breath.

Sanemi spotted this, knowing far too well what's going on in your head. The same thoughts pierced his own mind.

''Don't worry.'' He put his hand on your head, not really knowing why. ''It's not like we're not both in this.'' Shinazugawa tried to lessen the tense situation and it worked.

''I think...'' You paused for a second, still not hundred percent relaxed in front of him. ''That we better...'' The sneaky words couldn't leave your mouth, you felt like you did something wrong, something punishable.

''Yes, we better keep this to ourselves.'' He ended your sentence and you let out a breath of relief. ''You don't have to be so sacred, you know.''

''I know I know.'' You bursted a bit, your senses coming back. ''It's just funny and... weird, sorry for saying that.'' He only shrugged. ''I don't really want to have everyone up my throat. If anyone knew about this, giving my kinda grades, the scenario would be simple to put up.'' You waved your hands in the air in a manner of displeasure.

''What scenario?'' Sanemi found your little dark pit funny.

''That I stick my ass up for you for good grades, huh?'' You acted as if he was stupid, not sure where the sudden courage came from.

''And you really think I would do something like that?'' He started to thread your thoughts, obviously making fun of it.

''Well, sorry to break it to you, but I think yes. I mean, the common opinion would be that... yes. I think people could be able to think about something like that.''

His brow furrowed a bit. Nah, he certainly didn't expect this. Did he really look like that? He always thought he only looked sexy and intimidating, not slutty.

''Well... I better get going, I guess.'' You pushed yourself up, hiding your body from the cold air.

Sanemi was shocked once more. You were just lying down in bed, naked and after an adventurous night. Where were you supposed to go? He thought you would just talk a bit more and go to sleep. Shit, he was truthly stupid. Why would you do that? Why would you talk to him a bit more and then sleep with him? You were here just for the one thing that you got, that's all.

He looked at your form. You were dressing up, looking for the lost pieces of your clothing. Sighing, he also got up, dressed and helped you pick up everything that you've got. It was late in the night so you called yourself an Uber and both of you went outside, Shinazugawa wanting to make sure that you'll make it to the car.

''Thanks for everything once more.'' You gave the man a big smile.

''No problem, thank you too.'' He smirked lightly.

''Happy new year my dudes!'' Both of your heads darted to the left where a blond guy was walking around, shouting something.

Surprisingly fast, for how drunk he was, he came up to you and stood shakily, waving his hand just in front of your face.

''Dudes, it's the New Year, why so gloomy? Where's the party? You can come with me if you don't have anything else to do.'' His head was shaking from the left to the right, but he seemed very concerned with your lack of party.

''No problem, I'm actually going home.'' You started, wanting to get rid of him quickly.

''Eh! Home! It's still early, where are you going?''

''I've already had a party and I'm going home.'' You didn't give up.

''Come on, don't be like that.'' The blonde guy started to whine.

''She's going home, what do you not understand?'' Shinazugawa cut the guy short and he looked really scary right now.

''Okay, okay. T's not like I'm hitting on ya girl.'' The blonde crossed his hand on his chest.

''Whatever.'' Sanemi huffed.

You heard a group of people shouting something in the back. The blonde guy seemed to be interested in the noise.

''This my friends, better go.'' He smiled way too wide. ''See ya later.''

After that your ride came and after a few more goodbyes you were ready to go home.

Finishing your shower, you put on some show on your computer and delighted yourself with laziness all day long. 

SERIES MASTERLIST

Taglist:

@secretxchive @vesperazhier

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #college #university #college student #shinazugawa x reader #demon slayer shinazugawa #shinazugawasanemi #sanemi x y/n #sanemi smut

[xxcatzladyxx]

Demon Slayer Advent Calendar | Day Five | Inosuke x Reader | The meaning of christmas

written by @lupina36

~~~

"I just don't get it!" Inosuke shouted angrily at you.

You could only sigh. You've been sitting here with the boar-headed boy for a little over three hours now, trying to explain the principle of Christmas presents to him as idiotically as possible. It had all started when Inosuke had wanted to challenge you to a fight again and had watched you wrap a present for Tanjiro's sister Nezuko and put a pretty little bow on it at the end.

When he asked you what you were doing, you explained that you were preparing a Christmas present for Nezuko. Of course, Inosuke was not familiar with the word Christmas. After all, he had grown up in the mountains and the animals there certainly didn't celebrate Christmas that often.

So you put your present aside to explain Christmas and what it was all about to Inosuke.

You took a deep breath to collect yourself before asking, "Okay, what exactly didn't you understand about that?"

"EVERYTHING!" came the prompt reply. The volume almost made you fall backwards in shock. "You said a child was born at Christmas. And this child was some kind of saint or king. But it was born in a stable," he tried to summarize what you had said so far. "Yes, because there was nothing left in the inn," you nodded, relieved that some of this had obviously stuck in his head. You had feared you would have to explain everything to him twice and three times.

It was by no means the case that Inosuke was stupid, it just sometimes took him a while to internalize certain things properly. You just had to be patient.

"I still don't understand what the whole thing has to do with a fat guy in a red coat who's traveling in a flying sleigh and handing out presents to everyone," Inosuke snorted and you wanted to clap your hand over your forehead.

This time you were obviously the one who realized too late what it was all about. The boy had actually been able to follow your explanations, but just couldn't make a direct connection between the birth of Jesus and the story of Santa Claus. If you were honest, you couldn't really do that either.

"What does the birth of a baby have to do with this fat man sneaking into houses and leaving things there? What's the point of that anyway? Why does he do that?" asked Inosuke. Unfortunately, you had to admit that you didn't know the answer. You had heard your mother's stories about Santa Claus so often, but you had never really understood what it had to do with a newborn baby.

"I can't give you an answer to that either," you admitted.

"All I know is that people give each other presents at Christmas". "HÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ! Why is that? I thought it was the guy in the red coat! Then why should we give presents too?" Inosuke wondered. "I don't get it! It makes me angry!" and before you knew it, he was banging his head against the nearest tree.

A few small branches fell and landed in the soft snow.

"Inosuke, calm down! I can tell you why you give presents to your friends and family at Christmas. You do it to show them how important they are to you and that you value them," you explained to him. "You are important to me! Why isn't it enough if I just tell you that?" Inosuke suddenly said, bringing a slight blush to your cheeks. "Because it's an old tradition. You express your appreciation for others by giving them a present at Christmas," you replied once you had regained your composure.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" went Inosuke, suddenly running into the forest without warning!

You were sitting on the veranda of the butterfly mansion and could only stare after him in bewilderment. "What's wrong with Inosuke?" Tanjiro asked you, who now also appeared on the veranda and looked after Inosuke, equally confused. "I have no idea. I was just trying to explain to him why people give each other presents at Christmas and then he suddenly ran off," you explained.

At that moment, Tanjiro's gaze fell on the beautifully wrapped present for Nezuko, which was still lying next to you on the veranda.

"Who is this for?" he asked curiously. "Oh, it's a new kimono for Nezuko. I saw it in the store in town the other day and thought I'd buy it for her," you replied rather casually, as your thoughts were still preoccupied with Inosuke's behavior.

Only a few seconds later did you realize that Tanjiro was staring at you. "Really?" he whispered almost breathlessly, still staring at you. There was a glint in the corner of his eye.

"Yes, Christmas is coming soon. The few weeks until then will pass quickly and I was thinking that Nezuko might be happy about it. Just because she's become a demon doesn't mean she can't celebrate Christmas with us," you said and the very next moment you found yourself in two warm arms and pressed firmly against a chest.

"That's so nice of you! Nezuko will definitely be happy about your present"; you heard the brown-haired man sobbing quietly. You had the impression that he was more pleased about the gift than the person it was actually intended for. You returned his hug with a gentle smile.

Inosuke didn't come back all day or in the evening and you started to worry.

You hoped that nothing had happened to him. On the other hand, if anyone knew their way around the woods, it was Inosuke. He could certainly take care of himself. Nevertheless, you were still worried when you went to bed and hoped that he would soon reappear unharmed.

When you opened your eyes the next morning, your gaze immediately fell on your bedside table, on which stood the biggest pine cone you had ever seen.

A pretty red ribbon was wrapped around the pine cone.

You didn't have to think long about who the pine cone had come from and felt your heart beat a little faster. Is that why he had run into the forest so suddenly? He must have spent hours looking for it.

Next to the pine cone was a piece of paper on which someone had written something in neat handwriting. You recognized Tanjiro's handwriting immediately.

(name)! I asked Tanjiro if he could write this note for you for me. I hope this Christmas present is enough to express my appreciation for you. All the best and Merry Christmas. Inosuke.

You read through the note a few more times and were sure that Tanjiro had glossed over Inosuke's words a little, as the boar boy would certainly never express himself so politely and selectively. Nevertheless, you were very happy about the letter and especially the present, even if Inosuke still didn't really understand the principle of Christmas presents.

#reader #demon slayer #x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #inosuke hashiriba #inosuke hashibira #inosuke x reader #demon slayer inosuke #kny inosuke #kny x reader

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

The Next Step

Happy four years of Damagemas!

Summary: Cole just wants to get better. But it's easier said than done.

Trigger Warnings: mentioned attempted suicide, pet whump, dehumanization, past abuse, trauma, stockholm syndrome

820 words

Against all odds, time kept moving forward. Even when he… when Cole felt like it never would again. Like time would stop, and everything was stagnant forever.

Somehow, it never stayed like that. He was never alone for long. 

The others didn’t trust him not to try and throw himself off the roof again, he guessed. Not that he could blame them. Sometimes he found himself really considering it. 

It was all just so much. It had been a month since he’d begun to remember himself. A month since he’d finally admitted that he wanted to get better. He did. He really did.

But god, it was so hard. How was he supposed to just exist for himself again when the last year had taught him just the opposite? He’d been forced to live for one thing, and it certainly hadn’t been for himself. 

Learning had been hard. But the unlearning would be so much worse. 

Because now he had an audience. He had people who could see what he had become. His family, who looked at him like he was fragile enough to shatter at any second. Not that they were wrong. 

He’d used to be solid rock. Strong and sure of himself. But now he was practically untethered, never farther from the source of himself. 

How was he supposed to get back? How was he supposed to get them to stop looking at him with such deep pity?

“Cole?”

What if he couldn’t be fixed? What if Master had been right, what if he really was meant to be nothing more than a—

“Cole.” Zane’s voice was firm this time, demanding enough attention for Cole to finally snap out of his quickly spiraling thoughts.

“Huh?” He managed, staring back at his brother, disoriented. 

“Your heartbeat is spiking,” he informed, gentler now. “Would you like to try some of those breathing exercises again? Perhaps it would help to calm you down.” He reached out, moving to put a hand on top of his own.

Cole snatched his hand away. “No,” he said, crossing his arms like a barrier, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Of all the questions that would make him snap, that shouldn’t have been one. And yet…

“Am I s—? Yes, Zane, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be fine? I remember everything now, don’t I?”

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t be experiencing some negative—”

“Negative? No, no, everything is just perfect.” He said, rising in volume. “I’m home. I’ve been home for nearly three months, and I’m—” his voice cracked. “I’m still…” he couldn’t do this. Who was he kidding? “I’m still not better,” he mumbled, giving up on a fit. Of course he wasn’t going to get better. He’d been reshaped from the inside out. Of course he could never be put back to how he was supposed to be.

“Nothing is working,” he admitted, a new wave of despair propelling him to stand abruptly and begin to pace around the coffee table they’d settled in front of. “It’s been months, Zane, and I’m still — still like this. What’s the point? Nothing is working. Nothing — nothing is working,” he cried, angrily wiping tears away. “Why can’t I just get better?”

Zane slowly rose to meet him, taking his shaking hands. “Cole,” he said softly, “you’re being too hard on yourself. What you went through was… deeply traumatic. But the progress you’ve made since we found you has been exceptional. Recovering your repressed memories was no easy task. You’ve been improving far quicker than anyone could have even predicted.”

It didn’t feel true in the slightest, but he knew Zane was right. “But what if I—” he struggled, pulling away. “What if I’m never the same as I… used to be?”

Zane considered him for a moment. “Maybe you won’t be.” He sat back on the couch, beckoning Cole to follow. “When I first discovered who I truly was,” he began, “and I regained my memories of my father… it was hard. I knew I would never again be the person my memories told me I had once been.”

He put his head in his hands, miserable. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It is not,” he amended. “But what I am trying to say is that… our experiences shape us. But they do not have to define us.”

He slowly looked up, vision blurred with tears. “But what if this does?” He croaked, “What if I — what if I can’t ever move past this?”

“I believe you will. Not only are you stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for, but… you are not facing this alone, brother. We will be with you every step of the way.”

He didn’t know how to say that that was part of the problem. 

At that moment, Kai poked his head in. “Uh, hey guys? The lawyer’s here.” The pit in his chest sank deeper than ever. Shit.

#merry whumpmas #damage #the damage tree #kat writes #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago #pet whump #dehumanization #trauma #stockholm syndrome #ptsd #attempted suicide tw #dead dove: do not eat #whump #whumpblr #cole ninjago #zane ninjago #angst #hurt/comfort

[twst-drabbles]

Red Tyrant's Dream 2

Summary: The bluebells were the only wilting thing and source of light in this overgrown, overly decorative garden. Best to find water to help perk them up.

(A friendly reminder that this little event is inspired by World of Horror, so take that as you will.)

You were lucky to find a watering can nearby, though your luck ends when you find it empty. Short breaths hit the back of your neck, as though whoever is watching you was laughing. And yet, had no intention of getting any closer to you. A cowardly thing? Possibly. Or it could be something else. Perhaps there’s some vague condition you have to meet before it acts. Well, who’s to say.

No matter. If a watering can is here, there’s a chance of a source of water somewhere.

You touch the petals, taking pity in their limp state. “Give me a moment.”

You left and the creature hiding in the tightly bound forest of trees and vines did not follow.

Taking care not to stray too far from your only light source, you tilted a careful ear and followed the sound of pattering just to the left of a rose bush. It was suspiciously shaped like a child curled on its side, with its flowers tightly closed as though afraid to open.

It quivered when you got closer and went still when you departed.

You found a light shower of water in a small dark field. Your foot accidentally stepped into the light stream made, but shook it off and went to collect your water. There was a smattering of bluebells shining by the path you took, but the light was barely enough for you to catch your can overflowing.

The consistency was wrong. Yes, it was certainly liquid, but it felt just the slightest bit too thick to be actually water. It smelled fine to you. But, unfortunately, venturing out further to see if you can find another water source would take up too much time.

This would have to do. Though, just in case, you decided to water the bluebells here. Only one of them.

You tilted the can and as soon as a droplet hit its petal, a light ting of a bell entered your ear. The petals regained their lost color, further blooming its face up towards the sky and its light reached ever onward. In fact, it burned so brightly you can see the rose bush child all the way over here.

It’s buds have shrank even further into itself, trying to make itself smaller and smaller, as though afraid of the light.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #twst-drabbles exclusive #drabble #heartslabyul #eldritch au #red tyrant's dream #reader insert

[revelationschapter6]

cinnamon and myrrh

Events: Sicktember, Whumptember, Bad Things Happen Bingo

Prompts:

Desperate measures

Head lolling

Coughing fit

Preventative Measures (Not taken)

Side effects/Adverse reaction

Uncooperative Patient

Confused

Disoriented

Hurts to Breathe

Warnings:

implications of depression

This fill is written as a one-shot of my original story, Saudade. You can find my info page for Saudade here.

What context you need to read this is:

In Saudade, the Archangel Raphael Fell during the Rebellion. It was a misunderstanding that spiraled out of control, and he was thrown out by four angels while his partner, the Power Camael, tried to help him.

The angels who didn't Fall were made to forget those who did. They don't remember they ever knew them. As far as they know, all the Fallen were on the fringes of Heaven's society. If they asked around, they might go, "Wait, no one knew a Fallen?" But they Don't Ask Questions.

Raphael worked to gain Camael's trust again, and eventually won it. Camael learned he did, in fact, know Raphael before the Fall by regaining a memory, and convinced Raphael's siblings to hear him out. Now they're trying to figure out WTF to do.

Who, in their right mind, burns myrrh for funsies? Humans, apparently. And in the middle of the holiday season no less, so the smell of it is covered up by the reek of all that damn cinnamon. Raphael really should have learned by now. Whumptember: Desperate measures, head lolling Sicktember: Coughing fit, Preventative Measures (Not Taken), Side Effects/Adverse Reaction, Uncooperative Patient, Confused, Disoriented Bad Things Happen Bingo: hurts to breathe

can be read on AO3 or below the cut

Raphael watched the little blurs that were the light-up battery-powered fish in his fish tank.

When he’d moved into this apartment, he’d thought about getting a cat. But they had such short lifespans compared to his. It just wasn’t worth getting attached. Dogs were the same. Rodents were even worse. It felt like they barely took a breath before dying. It was nearly impossible to find an apartment that would allow a bird, though even they didn’t live terribly long in the span of his life, and he hated turtles.

A hellish animal might have been an option, but he didn’t like any of them. Hellcats, with their too many tails, disturbed him greatly and brought to mind Kitsune, who he didn’t want to think of as he cleaned a litter box. (Their litter boxes had a nasty habit of bursting into flames, besides.) Hellhounds came in every shape and breed of dog, but being around Lilith’s was enough. He didn’t have nearly enough water to keep an ahuizotl, and he already had plenty of nightmares without inviting in a Pesanta.

So, finally, he’d bought a fish tank and some light-up, battery-powered fake fish and been quite happy with them.

Through the poorly insulated walls of his apartment, he could make out general merriment. Carolers on the street, the buzz of countless lights, cheerful voices. Could smell pine from pine trees, burning gingerbread from a few doors down, and tried not to cough at the thickness of cinnamon in the air. It had been strong for days, no matter where he went. Cinnamon brooms lingered on his neighbors’ doorsteps, and it seemed every shop he passed was cluttered with them.

He’d never liked Christmas, not really. Though the Giant Lantern Festival was beautiful, he’d admit that, and he always had fun trying to burn the Gävle Goat. Any Fallen loved Krampusnacht, none more so than Krampus himself. But Christmas was a time for those with friends and family. He might have called Maalik a friend once, but he was long dead. Lilith and Lethe, perhaps, but they were busy doing their own things, and they saw each other only every few decades, besides. He still wasn’t sure if he could call Samyaza a friend.

And he certainly had no family.

He had Camael back, somewhat. But Camael, though he knew now, didn’t remember, surely wasn’t willing to spend a holiday with him. And Gabriel and Michael still looked half-ready to run him through if he sneezed wrong, though they knew too.

So he hadn’t even bothered to ask.

Raphael sighed, trying to tune out the music his neighbors were listening to: the one above him was listening to some caterwauling cover of All I Want for Christmas is You, the one below him Last Christmas, to the right a pop cover of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas (why?), and to the left Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer (again, why?). He could make out the neighbors further down the hall, but it all clashed together into raucous noise.

He rolled over, stretching out on his bed. It smelled far better than the cloying cinnamon. Though lingering sulfur and rain-dampened dirt weren’t exactly appealing either.

It wasn’t Christmas Day or Eve. At least, he didn’t think so.

He couldn’t hear wrapping paper tearing—well, that was a lie. The gender-optional tenant three doors down was wrapping gifts it sounded like—or smell ham or turkey or baking cookies.

Then again, he’d slept for quite a while, so he couldn’t be certain. He’d only gotten up long enough to duck into the corner store and wolf down the taquitos whose wrappers lay crumpled on his nightstand.

Raphael clutched his pillow, curling up. Hell, but he was tired. He’d slept the better part of the last two days, and still, he was exhausted.

So what was the harm in sleeping? It wasn’t as if he’d miss anything.

His phone rang, and he grumbled. Blearily, he thought that he needed to take it into the store to get it looked at because the voice announcing the caller was so muffled that he couldn’t make out what it said. Raphael reached for it, fumbling, but it was out of his reach, and he was still so tired.

If it was important, whoever it was could leave a voicemail.

Someone banged on his door, and he groaned. Did they have to be so loud? He could hear the door rattling in the frame. It was probably someone looking for the man down the hall. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had someone knock on his door by mistake, so he didn’t feel sorry that he didn’t even open his eyes.

There were voices, and he felt he should wake up. Because sleeping while someone was near him was never a good thing, barring a few people. And those weren’t Lethe or Lilith’s voices. He could tell. But his bed was so warm, the blankets so soft and comfortable, so surely he could sleep a few minutes more?

Besides, those voices felt safe. What was the harm?

Hands—cold hands, familiar, rough hands, though who they belonged to escaped him at the moment—grabbed and shook him. He wanted to tell them to let him sleep—even with their hands on him, he felt leaden—but his voice wilted and died in his throat before he could make a sound.

The voice called his name again, and two more hands, rougher and larger, joined the first.

His name was called again, this time by a voice deeper than the one before, and the hands became so rough that his head rolled on his pillow. It was irritating, and he tried again to tell them to leave him be. But his voice died, and his eyelids were so heavy that he couldn’t even glare at them to go away. His breath hitched, as sluggish as the rest of him, and struggled in his throat.

Raphael felt that should have worried him, but he was too comfortable and tired to care.

The hands went away, and he was grateful. Now, surely they’d leave him alone? Whatever they needed couldn’t be that important. It could wait.

Surely, they’d finally let him sleep.

A pair of hands slid under him, separating his head from his pillow and awkwardly gripping the underside of his knees. He shivered as he was torn away from the warmth of his blankets, the cold biting into him worse than the blizzards of Cocytus. A complaint started, then died, in his throat. His head lolled back, his neck arched painfully, and while one arm had been scooped up so it rested on his stomach, the other dangled uncomfortably.

The person carrying him moved jerkily, jolting him violently, even as they rubbed their thumbs along his skin as if to try to warm him. They came to an abrupt stop, and he tried to open his eyes. Some part of him was alarmed when he couldn’t get them to respond, but he was too tired to get anxious.

One hand came up to cradle the back of his head as he was made to stand. Well, stand by the faintest gasp of the word. If it wasn’t for the hand, or the body he was propped against, he surely would have collapsed. His feet tingled differently than usual, more numb than throbbing or sensitive. Even when he tried to make them, his knees wouldn’t support his weight. The person behind him, a sturdy wall, held him carefully upright. Raphael felt he should recognize them, if not from everything else than from their height, his head coming up to their chest from the feel of it as it lolled on his irritatingly unresponsive neck.

The first, smaller pair of hands, fingers slimmer than the ones holding him, tugged off his sweats, boxers, and nightshirt. Some part of him felt he should cover himself, like there was something he needed to hide, that he despised, tried to never let anyone see, and was forgetting.

But that would mean moving, which he didn’t think he could do even if he tried. His arms were so heavy, and was it really so bad if they saw it?

He lost time.

And then he was scalding, dragged beneath a spray of water. He gasped through a barely open mouth, his breath rasping loudly in his throat, then started to cough violently.

Were they trying to drown him?

A heave ran through him as he coughed, desperate for breath he didn’t actually need, feeling as though he were fighting to breathe through wet cloth. One of the hands, the one with the thicker fingers, caught his chin and squeezed the joints of his jaw. He tried to jerk back and felt like he was back in Boston, struggling to wade through molasses. His body wouldn’t listen to him, every moment slow and faltering, a twitch of a movement if he managed to move at all.

"Shit, he’s covered in it."

Raphael retched as a wet finger pressed down on his tongue, sweeping along his throat. It was a horrible feeling, but when the finger drew out, he could finally breathe. He coughed harshly, gulping air down greedily.

His fingers twitched, and the hand on the back of his head tightened in his hair to keep him from doubling over. He could taste rotten sulfur, his throat stinging as he struggled to get his coughing under control. There wasn’t an inch of his skin that hadn’t begun to tingle unpleasantly, bordering on a faint burn.

The smaller set of hands left his skin, replaced a moment later by a washcloth. The tingling quickly built to a burn, and as energy began to return to his limbs, he struggled weakly. Being pinned had never resulted in anything good, and slowly awareness was filtering to him; he shouldn’t be so confused and so tired; he should have been wide awake long before they’d made it into his apartment. He’d never known the touch of holy water, but having water flow over his body just before he began to burn did not bode well.

The arms tightened around him, and a familiar voice grunted as he managed to brace one foot on the slippery tile and drive the heel of the other into the shin of the person behind him.

"Stop fighting us, dammit!"

Wait—he did know that voice. Now that it didn’t sound so far away, so muffled, he did know that voice. And those hands felt familiar, as did the body behind him. And now, with the insulated walls of the shower between him and that awful, seeping cinnamon scent, he could make out the strong bite of petrichor.

He forced his eyes open, though they were very reluctant. His vision swam, eyes stinging, and they’d only open a slit. But even through a film of silver tears, he’d know that angel anywhere. She was too close for him to make out her features, but even darkened and flattened to her scalp by water, that red hair was unmistakeable.

"M’ch’l?" His tongue was slow, heavy, and unresponsive in his mouth. Just that word, if you could call it a word, made him cough again, tearing at his throat. He whimpered, and the angel behind him held him up when the force of it tried to bend him over. Ichor sprayed, foul and thick, across his tongue. Before he could do anything, Camael reached up and swiped his fingers across his tongue and throat. Raphael retched, but strangely, his throat hurt far less.

"Shut up," she snapped as he panted, stooping and running the washcloth down his legs.

"You’re a real idiot, you know," she said as she straightened.

"Wh-?" He cleared his throat, trying to get his voice to obey him. His voice sounded ridiculous, slurring and rough. "Why?"

Finally, he got his legs to support him, though they shook violently. Still, when Camael pushed him forward and Michael pulled him towards her, he went easily. He slumped, head resting on her shoulder, letting her take most of his weight. Behind him, Camael wiped him down with quick, rough movements. His skin burned, too sensitive, under the touch of the rag, and he whined as his hands and feet began to sting. He hadn’t even realized how numb they’d gone, but now that they felt as if they were being lanced with needles, he wished they’d go back to being numb.

Camael knelt, pushing him so he put more of his weight on Michael, and pulled up his foot. He did cry out, then. They were always either sensitive or numb, but the feel of the rag was agony. Then he began to cough again, struggling against the burn in his chest. Each small gasp of breath he managed to get only fueled the burn, and he sobbed.

"Sorry, sorry," Camael muttered, hurrying to finish. The other foot hurt just as badly, if not more, and it was only because Michael braced herself that they weren’t both taken to the ground when his leg gave out.

"Close your eyes," Camael said, and then Michael guided him to stand upright and bend over. He wheezed, beginning to cough again, wrinkling his nose at the foul taste of sulfur. When the stream of water was aimed at his hair, he flinched, so Michael brought one hand up to cover his eyes. Hands ran roughly through his hair, tugging at tangles, Camael murmuring apologies every time he tugged roughly at his scalp.

"Is that all of it?" Camael asked, helping him to stand upright. He wavered, blinking blearily at Michael as he struggled to catch his breath.

The burning was starting up again in his throat, and he managed to say "All of-" before it irritated his throat so badly that he started to cough again. When the force of it, pain shooting through his upper back, threatened to take him to the ground, Camael held him upright. Heat filled his mouth, and he tasted sulfur as the water shut off.

"Don’t let him get any on his skin," Camael said as Michael pressed the cloth to his mouth.

"I know," she scowled. "Next time he can catch his breath, hold his head up and his mouth open."

It felt like ages as he coughed. His throat and chest burned, and tears trickled down his face. Camael slid one hand up to rest over his racing heart, Michael replacing his grip on Raphael’s arm with her own.

Finally, he was able to take a breath. It wasn’t much, but for a moment, he could stop coughing. His breath whistled in his throat, an awful sound that set his teeth on edge. Camael grabbed his jaw, making him tilt his head back, then, as gently as he could, squeezed the joints of his jaw.

Raphael coughed, jerking awkwardly at the angle his throat was forced to. He didn’t struggle as Camael lowered him, and Michael stood on the tips of her toes. She raised her hand, and Raphael’s instincts screamed as divinity spiked strongly in the air. Gold-tinged smoke trickled from his mouth as Michael pinched the air, then pulled back. There was an awful tugging feeling in his chest before the burning flared. He struggled against Camael’s pinning grip, but as the agonizing burn rose through his throat, his chest stopped hurting.

With a gasp, he began to gulp down air. Each breath came easier than the last, the burn moving to his tongue, then gone completely. Camael loosened his grip, letting him slump against him as he gasped for breath. Camael was saying something. He could tell by the vibrations of his chest against his back, and maybe Michael was, too. But his heart raced loudly in his ears, and he couldn’t hear anything else. He twisted, spitting ichor into the drain.

Michael stepped out of the shower, and scooping Raphael up, Camael followed.

Please tell me I’m not naked.

Michael looked away as she grabbed a towel. "Can you stand?"

He cleared his throat, basking in being able to breathe. "Y-yeah," he said, though he wasn’t really sure. Camael carefully set him down, making sure he could take his own weight before releasing him.

Raphael hadn’t known this Camael could be so gentle or kind. He wished he’d been aware enough to enjoy it.

Hands shaking, he took the towel she offered. His head was still a bit foggy, the world moving slowly around him, but now he could feel the alarm he should have felt before creeping up on him.

"How dumb are you?" Michael asked as he toweled himself dry before he could ask what the hell had happened. It was only as he carefully picked up a foot to towel it dry, leaning into Camael’s supporting hand, seeing the discolored flesh that went up nearly to his knee, that his heart dropped into his stomach.

His glamors.

He wasn’t wearing his glamors.

They’d have seen the discolorations for sure, and they certainly would have felt them. It was a miracle he hadn’t, in his daze, brought out his spines.

The thought made him feel ill.

And–his eyes. His eyes didn’t have the reassuring, faint warmth of his glamor, the one he applied without thought the moment he woke. That glamor—they'd have seen his eyes; they’d have seen those monstrous eyes. How had Michael stomached seeing them?

He took deep breaths, reveling in them, and answered her. "I don’t know... I don’t even know what happened." Frantically, he tried to call up the glamor. It was child’s play—something he could do when bleeding and half-dead. But his power, usually burning and riotous, was barely more than a smolder in his chest. His eyes remained unchanged.

"Myrrh," she said as she walked out of the bathroom, speaking over her shoulder as he tied the towel around his waist. Camael helped him follow on shaky legs. "You got yourself covered from head to toe in myrrh." When he walked into the rest of the apartment, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The entire place smelled like ozone, divinity sparking along his skin.

Michael rummaged through his dresser, pulling out a shirt and tossing it to him once he’d sat on the edge (well, his bed was round, so it didn’t have edges) of his bed. It had been stripped down to the mattress, and the rough mattress itched his sensitive skin.

"And inhaled it," Camael added as he pulled the shirt on. He sounded pissed, and Raphael cringed. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"I didn’t mean to," Raphael protested as he wriggled awkwardly into a pair of shorts that landed in his lap. He mourned his boxers but would rather that Michael didn’t go into his underwear drawer. Remembering the days of robes and little else, then the days of kaunakes, which covered even less, he wondered when he’d become so prudish. What Fallen would mean to inhale myrrh? "Who burns myrrh anymore?"

Michael wasn’t far enough away for him to make out her expression, but he was fairly certain she was looking to Heaven for strength.

He didn’t need to look to know that Camael was rolling his eyes. "I’m serious," Raphael said. "I haven’t been able to smell anything but cinnamon for weeks. You think I’d’ve stuck around if I smelled myrrh?"

Of all the things hellish beings were weak to—blessed objects, certain sacred symbols and objects, holy water, purified salt, consecrated ground, certain sigils and runes, among other things—Raphael found myrrh the most insidious. Sacred symbols and objects you could avoid; you had to touch them, usually, to be harmed by them. Pick them up or have them thrown at you. They were only dangerous if they touched bare skin. Any hellish being knew well what those tended to be. Blessed objects were more dangerous; anything could be blessed. Sacred symbols and objects counted among blessed objects, like crosses, ushabti, and holy books. But it was entirely possible to rummage through a pile of clothing and find a blessed shirt. Sigils and runes had to be carved or painted, and were far less reliable. They were so finicky that a shaky hand or a shed eyelash in the wrong spot could ruin the entire thing. They were usually best at keeping hellish beings out, or he’d have considered them much worse. But if someone knew what they were doing, they could make the barrier far more dangerous, even lethal. The ones he’d painted around his cave served as an electric fence, although he’d seen an imp fried to ash when it insisted on continuing to try to come in. Once, though, he’d seen a demon walk over an intricate rune set, unaware, and be instantly and mercilessly erased from existence.

Consecrated ground, well. Raphael, personally, hated consecrated ground after spending years recovering from a run-in with it. But provided you weren’t him and weren’t foolish with it, it wasn’t too much of a danger. Consecrated ground was almost always a holy building, religious or spiritual retreat, sacred grove, or sacred site. So long as you avoided those, you were just fine. That wasn’t a hard rule—he was still deeply confused by a six-inch-by-six-inch patch he’d found deep in Baikunthapur Forest—but it was a safe one to live by. And, if you were unlucky enough to find some random patch, you just had to step off of it.

It was only when you stayed standing on it that it started to eat away at your being.

Purified salt, unless consumed, was only really useful for making a salt circle. If it touched the skin, it acted as a bit of an irritant, but when consumed in large amounts, it became an anticoagulant. ‘Large amounts’ being the key word; it diluted in drinks, and any amounts that would be dangerous to a hellish being made food noticeably salty. And holy water—well, any self-respecting hellish being feared holy water, especially with people carrying it around now. You never knew how pure it would be, whether it was just tap water with a prayer said over it by some human or water properly blessed by an angel. The former, a Fallen or demon would have to be dunked in or guzzle to be killed by, and it would be a long, drawn-out, preventable death. Otherwise, it hurt like hot oil.

Not pleasant, but better than the latter. The latter was like acid; a few drops would eat away at your skin, but any significant amount was liable to outright dissolve you away.

Myrrh, though. In its natural state, it was harmless. He could hold it with his bare hands if he wanted to. But when burned, which humans had taken to doing, it became smoke. And it was the smoke that was so dangerous. That it had such a strong, distinct scent meant it was one of the easier dangers to avoid. Still, if, somehow, you breathed it—perhaps being a new demon, or a Fallen with little experience of Creation—it settled in your lungs, clinging to your throat. Often, it coated your skin as well, if you were unlucky enough to be too close. It ate away at you slowly, siphoning away your power. This made you tired, too dazed to register that something was wrong. If you fell asleep, you never woke up again.

Raphael remembered how groggy he’d felt, how tired and listless, so certain that it would be no harm at all just to go back to sleep. How he hadn’t cared though there’d been hands on him, strangers (or so they’d seemed at the time) crowded around him while he was vulnerable. If that had happened in Hell...

He shivered.

Michael had been talking, and he quickly scrubbed his hair dry, trying to pretend he’d been listening.

"–lucky we found you when we did!"

"I know," he said. There were so many ways he was lucky, as much as he sometimes thought himself otherwise. When it mattered, he was damn lucky.

"Really," Camael said behind him, his voice soft. "You were almost dead, Raphael. If we had waited a few hours–"

Raphael was startled when Camael’s voice hitched. And, he realized, Michael’s had sounded decidedly rattled. They cared. He barely managed to keep from smiling, as inappropriate as that would be. They still didn’t remember him. Camael hadn’t told him what he’d seen, but he’d seen a memory, or more than one. Enough to know he had known him once. That, for all these years, Raphael hadn’t been lying. He didn’t know the depth of their relationship, but that was fine. Gabriel and Michael, through Camael, had come to accept that they’d known him as well.

It was hard to deny, especially once he showed them their feathers on his necklace and that his were on their jewelry. He couldn’t fake the feathers on his necklace. They shed feathers, sure. But the feathers on his necklace sparked with their divinity—the remnants of when they’d shrunk them, solidifying them so they wouldn’t be ruined in his day-to-day. There wasn’t any of his foul power on them.

Right, his power. It was a bit of a struggle, but after a moment, he managed to pull a glamor over his eyes. He’d done his best not to look them in the eye, but they’d certainly noticed something was off, even if they’d been distracted when they’d seen it.

How they hadn’t realized they had his feathers—well, he had his suspicions. They’d worn them since before Creation, and that was a very long time not to question the seemingly random feathers they shared. Then again, there were so many things that didn’t make sense that no one in Heaven, it seemed, had questioned.

His necklace-! He reached for his throat, fumbling where the cold chain always was. He’d only taken it off once since they’d given it to him, when he’d handed it to Michael to prove he really did have their feathers. But his neck was bare, and, to his horror, so was his wrist. Camael’s bracelet was gone, too.

"Here." Michael’s voice was undeniably strangled. When he looked at her, he sighed in relief. A little smear of gold and what looked to be a miniscule streak of the same with three white blobs dangling from it hung from her hand. They reeked of ozone, and divinity brushed against his skin when he took them.

"We-"

"We?"

"Michael banished your bedding. It had myrrh all over it." Raphael had liked that bedding. "Your clothes too. She cleaned everything. We didn’t want to risk missing some."

"When did you manage to do that?" He gaped at Michael. Everything between falling asleep and Camael washing his hair was blurry, with massive blank spots. Still, he was fairly certain there hadn’t been a moment when she wasn’t there.

Camael took the clasp he’d been struggling with, ignoring his startled flinch, and fastened his necklace for him. Feeling was still coming back to his extremities, and he felt rather fumbly.

"Right after I took off your clothes," she said plainly. Raphael was sure he turned an impressive silver as he remembered her stripping him under the water, Camael holding up his dead weight. She was his sister, but still. He’d have been just as embarrassed if it were Gabriel. Hell, Camael being there was almost as embarrassing.

…wow, he really had become a prude.

"I did it all at the same time. It’s not that hard if you’re doing all the room at once. Though, uh," she sounded sheepish. He remembered the way she’d avert her eyes when embarrassed, dark skin taking on a twinkling gold glint. "I might have been a bit overzealous. Some of those lights went out… and I might have vanished some of your towels."

That did not surprise him. You didn’t have to put much thought into using power—or divinity, as the case might be—but the less you focused, the more mistakes it might make or the more liberties it might take. If she’d thought ‘bedding and clothing’ it might have included ‘fabrics’ in that, and he should feel lucky he had any clothing or towels left at all. Hell, if she’d been rushing and had intentions such as ‘purify everything’, he was lucky he had anything left; such broad intentions could easily have ‘purified’ his apartment by emptying it.

He laughed. It felt good to laugh, to enjoy being able to breathe without that awful burn. "Don’t, don’t worry about it. Those were shit towels."

Forgetting himself, used to only letting Lilith and Lethe at his back, he reclined back against Camael. Camael stiffened against him, and he went rigid. Then, slowly, Camael relaxed.

Michael moved to sit next to him, sighing loudly.

"You have to be more careful," she said, sounding her age. Not the one her physical body appeared, but how old she truly was.

"I usually am." Sometimes. With some things. He was still alive, wasn’t he? And in (mostly) one piece.

Camael snorted.

"I avoid myrrh, I promise. We all do." He winced. Usually, he did all he could to keep from mentioning Hell, demons, or other Fallen. "If I have to get close to it, I layer up and wear masks. I avoid anywhere that burns incense or anything." This did, however, make it very hard to source materials for runes and sigils. Oh. The fucking corner store! The person who ran it was always burning candles. He’d been going there for years. "And if I even think I’m exposed to it, I shower. I just couldn’t smell anything through that damn cinnamon. It’s been strong the last few years, but never this bad."

...then again, he forced himself not to grimace; he hadn’t even worn his mask. Some dumbass had yelled at him the last time he had, and he hadn’t had it in him to get into an argument if he ran into someone else who took issue with him. Of course, that would be the one time Georgie burned fucking myrrh instead of their ‘field of fresh-mown grass’ candles.

In fact, he had sneezed. But their candles usually made him sneeze, and the cinnamon brooms irritated his nose, so he hadn’t thought anything of it.

Damn, he was stupid.

"Well, it is. What are you going to do now?"

Camael asked a good question. Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. "I’ll have to be more careful. Cover up as much as I can, stay away from any shops if I can, wear a mask. Definitely will shower as soon as I get home no matter what... that was dumb of me."

"Very."

It was funny when Michael and Gabriel did it. When Michael and Camael spoke together, it was just disconcerting.

"Burn any cinnamon brooms I find," he added, sotto voce.

"Why are they even a thing?" Michael shook her head. "Makes you feel like you shoved a bar of cinnamon up your nose."

He laughed, enjoying the rumble of Camael’s chest behind him as he did the same.

God, he’d missed this.

"What were you doing here, anyway?" He'd been sure he’d be spending Christmas alone. But here were Michael and Camael in his apartment, having saved his life. "Not that I’m not grateful!" He was quick to add.

Camael didn’t laugh again, but Raphael could feel the rumble of his chuckle against his back. The warmth that spread through his chest, then, was anything but painful.

"Well, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?" Camael said, and now that he paid attention, Raphael realized he was right. Even through the cinnamon, he could smell turkeys and hams baking; his gender-optional neighbor had, it seemed, procrastinated and was only now baking an over-sweetened apple pie. Children were shrieking (he grimaced. Michael snickered.), and adults and older children were laughing. Awful Christmas music was playing, muffling the tearing of wrapping paper and the high-pitched noises of children trying out their new toys.

"You really thought we were going to let you spend it alone? Our own brother?"

Yes.

"I didn’t think you celebrated, honestly."

He knew they celebrated. He’d seen them more than once, participating in so many holidays over the centuries. So many New Year's celebrations, sometimes more than one in the same year. Why humans couldn’t pick a calendar and stick with it, he’d never know. Sometimes it was just Michael and Gabriel. Others, it was Michael, Gabriel, and Camael, and he was glad about it. It was nice to know they were still close. Rarely, it was just one of them. Often, it was Michael and Raguel, Camael, and, bafflingly, Gabriel and Kushiel. He’d seen them giving gifts of protection during Handsel Monday centuries ago, helping with the harvest and blessing the loaves of Lammas, preventing injuries during Gŵyl Mabsant, betting on who’d fail to carry the burning barrels during Up Helly Aa, throwing tomatoes at each other (from what he could tell through watching from afar, they lost points if they hit humans) each La Tomatina he’d seen, and, on one memorable occasion, Gabriel, Kushiel, and Raguel, glamored to appear as a man, competing in a heated discus throwing competition at one of the last Ancient Olympic games while Michael and Camael egged them on. This had ended very quickly when Gabriel, scowling at Kushiel, had flung his discus an impossible distance and lodged it into the wall of the stadium. There had been a very brief chaos as the angels rushed to make the humans forget what they saw.

Raphael would have helped, honestly, but he’d been too busy laughing until he cried at the horror on their faces.

And, in recent years, Gabriel seemed to have found it great fun to participate in Blasphemy Day. Michael always followed him, telling him he shouldn’t, but if Raphael got close enough that he could make out her face, she was always grinning.

But why should he think they’d want to celebrate with him?

"Of course we do," Michael frowned. "Actually, Camael, can you text Gabriel? He’s probably wondering where we are."

"Wait, Gabriel–?"

"He’s at Camael’s apartment. We’ve got a tree up and everything. If you’re feeling up to it, of course?"

Of course, he was up to it. He’d drag himself across shards of blessed glass if only to have a moment with any of them. His skin was a bit too sensitive, but otherwise? He’d have had no idea that he’d almost died in such a stupid way.

"Yeah, of course." Michael stared him down, but she’d raised him, insofar as any of them had been raised, so he didn’t squirm or look away.

"Tell Gabriel we’re about to head over," she finally said, apparently satisfied. Then she leaned forward, grabbing something out of his sightline that crinkled loudly. When she leaned back, she held a lumpy package in her hands, covered in gaudy, multi-colored stripes. At least, he assumed so. They smeared, hurting his eyes. She dropped it in his lap.

"What’s this?" He picked it up, wrinkling his brow when it gave under his touch.

"You have to look the part." Even still, she sounded tired, and he felt horrible for scaring her so badly.

Look the part?

Finally, he really looked at her. And then he had to laugh. He’d been a bit distracted, but now it was impossible to miss the garish red sweater she wore. It clashed horribly with her hair, and he wished more than anything that he could make out what those twinkling, white blobs were.

"Camael’s is worse," she grumped. That he had to see. He twisted, then laughed harder. Raphael hadn’t known blue could be that bright, and the fuzziness of it explained the coarseness he’d felt against his exposed skin. Lights of various colors twinkled, and he snorted, then laughed at that.

"Oh God," he rubbed at his eyes as they teared up, "that’s bad."

"Wait until you see yours." Camael patted his shoulder.

"Mine?" The word came out far louder than he’d intended it to.

They really did want him, didn’t they? A gift, a Christmas tree, and now an ugly Christmas sweater. His grin, he was sure, was wobbly. Raphael had gifts for them too, of course. But he’d had no delusions of being able to give them to them. He had intended to give them to Camael the next time he saw him, Oh, I saw these, thought of you guys. Mind giving those to Michael and Gabriel next you see them? Thanks!

He’d never dreamed of being able to see them open them.

"Now, get dressed. Put that on, get some pants. Sister or not, I’m not going through your underwear drawer."

"Thank you for that."

He had so much to thank her for. Raphael didn’t think he’d ever be able to say them all.

#whumptember2023 #whumptember 2023 #whumptember2023 day 25 #whumptember day 25 #day twenty five: head lolling #day twenty five: desperate measures #sicktember2023 #sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 5 #sicktember day 23 #sicktember day 25 #sicktember day 27 #sicktember day 29 #bad things happen bingo #prompt: hurts to breathe #saudade #original writing #one-shot #original story #raphael #michael #gabriel #camael #implied depression #lore #world lore #worldbuilding #bthb

[flightofthedragon]

1899 theories at 3 am

Just have to ramble about some 1899 observations/ theories.

So first off, they’re obviously still in a simulation at the end of the show, when we see Maura wake up on the spaceship:

She wakes up on the same date she wakes up on the steamship: 19th October, just precisely 100 years later.

The simulation is also pretty much the same one as the one in 1899: namely, you have a group of people on a ship, crossing a wide unexplored darkness to reach a new world. It’s just in space this time. It’s just another immigrant ship.

There are more people on the spaceship than the Kerberos, BUT the captain says the Kerberos isn’t fully occupied. I’m guessing that means there are people who are already in the spaceship level of the simulation, who never went deeper (or got trapped) in the Kerberos simulation.

Several people are already dead and only live in the simulation.

Elliot is almost certainly one of them, as the show pretty much tells us Maura created this whole place for him. But I don’t think he’s the only one.

I’m almost certain Daniel is dead in the real world as well, BUT I think he started out alive. As in, he entered the simulation and his body died *somehow* while he was in the simulation and now his consciousness lives on in there. He pretty much warns Maura for this possibility, when he is trying to convince her to try and wake up from the simulation: he says she has to or there will be nothing for her to go back to. I’m presuming he knows that something or someone is endangering her body. Interestingly, when Daniel warns her, he says ‘you’ will have nothing to go back to, not ‘we’, he’s not including himself. Probably because he knows it’s too late for him. We also have the way he answers Maura’s question of if he will be there when she wakes up. He says ‘always’, in the same way people say they’ll always be with their loved ones once they pass.

There might be more people who just exist in the simulation.

Ciaran, Maura’s brother is probably an AI she developed.

Her remembering ‘losing her brother’ is probably him escaping her control. He’s in control of the simulation, according to her father. Maura’s instinct to find her brother is her trying to find him to regain control over him and the simulation.

I’m thinking Maura developed Ciaran to be in charge of the simulation, under her instruction, but somehow he broke free from her control. I think when Maura’s father tells her Ciaran is the last person she should be worried about right now, it isn’t because he’s safely in the real world, or not worth her empathy, but because he is an AI.

The whole setup of the Kerberos simulation is to stop the people in it from finding out what is going on.

The simulation only runs for 8 days, that’s not a lot of time to figure out what is happening before having your memory wiped again. The passengers have been disadvantaged at every point to prevent them from figuring things out.

First off, they’ve all been put in a simulation set in a time where they have none of the fundamental knowledge needed to figure out that they’re in a simulation. They don’t even have knowledge of computers, never mind the possibility of simulated realities.

On top of that, they’re all set on an immigrant ship where there are huge language barriers. I think the origin of the characters are probably true to reality (i.e. they’re really from the countries they come from in the simulation), but they probably all speak a common language in the real world. (Think about it, they’re all in a simulation they most likely signed up for, and this takes place in the far future, it makes sense they share a language or at least have an easy way of communicating across language barriers.) They’ve been made to forget this in the simulation to prevent cooperation as much as possible.

In that same vein, the original bonds between the characters have been obscured to them. Most people on the ship gravitate towards people they don’t start the journey with. For example: Olek and Ling Yi, Jérome and Clémence and Eyk and Maura. This is again probably done to make them figuring out what is happening that much harder, by isolating them from each other. This means they have to reforge this connections before they can even start working together to figure things out.

And than we have the mysterious letters. We know Maura’s letter tells her not to trust anyone and that is partly the reason why she is so distant with Eyk at first. If she had trusted him from the start, like she later does, they could’ve gotten a lot further in figuring things out. Maybe everyone’s letter said something similar? To make forging bonds that much harder.

Maura’s father has (maybe limited) control over the Kerberos level of the simulation, but not the spaceship level of the simulation.

I think this level of the simulation might be a part of the simulation he’s managed to wrestle out of Ciaran’s control. And he is the one keeping the passengers ignorant, and especially hindering Maura’s ability to find out what is happening, to find the key to escape the simulation. I don’t think Maura’s father realises the key won’t take him out of the simulation, but rather just out of his dominion. Ciaran might have changed the key to stop it from waking its user up, and instead just trapping it in another level. Similar to how Daniel changed the object that was the key to prevent Maura’s father from using it. Daniel also doesn’t seem to know this, or I assume he would’ve warned Maura.

The key was probably the ‘emergency brake’ Maura built into the simulation in case she needed to be able to leave it when the normal way wouldn’t work.I think the normal way of waking up would involve the caretaker AI - Ciaran - to wake the user up, but as he’s not playing ball, she needs the emergency exit. Maura doesn’t know this exit even exists, because she doesn’t remember, but Daniel knows it exists and that it will be closely tied to Maura. Which I’m guessing is how she programmed it.

Maura’s memory of her father building the hospital is actually her memory of her building the original simulation.

What is this simulation? Something Maura built to have Elliot live on in. But why are all these other people here?

What if the reality is that what is now the simulation, started as a simpler place, a place where Maura could find a way to figure out the human brain and how to fix it. Her memory of her father building the hospital after her mother’s illness to find a way to understand the human mind, was really just a distorted memory of HER building the simulation as a way to understand the human mind.

Maybe Elliot was dying from something in his brain. And Maura built the original simulation to try and find a way to fix it. (Maybe that’s why Lucien volunteered.) Maybe it only evolved into a simulation you can live in, when it became clear to Maura that she couldn’t save Elliot. So she created a world for him to live on in. Maybe after his death it became a new experiment, one where Maura tried to find a cure for grief or trauma. And that’s why everyone in the simulation has such heavy backstories. Their memories are all distorted, but rooted in real trauma (we’ve already been told that some memories cannot be truly erased because they are an ingrained part of someone.) This is why the passengers and crew we see entered the simulation in the first place.

Then at some point Ciaran - the AI Maura created to run the place so she could forget the truth of her own situation - took over and effectively trapped everyone in the simulation inside.

Ramble over, just had to stop bothering SO with my theories ;)

#obviously tell me if you have anything to add or if you think i'm completely wrong lol #1899 #1899 theories #maura franklin #1899 netflix

[siriannatan]

Scott's vampire troubles

This one was actually a request over on AO3

Maybe I shouldn't have been writing it right after waking up and while watching Bloodborne let's play..

AO3

Scott huffed and wrapped himself tighter in his blanket and glared at the covered with thick curtains windows. He messed up. Miscalculated how often he needs to feed. A good balance of feeding and vampiric sleep came with age he guessed. Not even twenty years was surely not long enough to figure it out. It certainly wasn't long enough to gather enough funds to live comfortably and want for nothing like vampires in books, movies and stories.

Getting flatmates was a mistake anyway. He should have just settled with a smaller apartment. A less safe area of town would do too. Would make hunting easier.. But even a vampire got lonely okay. And Scott knew no other vampires. The only other vampire he knew was the one who turned him and left with a cold laugh as if he did it all for amusement...

Well. No matter. The facts still stood that he was hungry and could not let himself sleep the day away to regain some strength and control and... that he had to lie to Jimmy and fWhip once again. About the third time this week actually. The last two times were because of his grand idea of doing some work while his roommates slept so he could hang it out with them. He did have to stay mindful of the sun as it drained his energy at a great speed and left dark, allergy-like marks on his skin with too much direct contact. He had told them he was sick and that he'd stay in bed the whole day but of course he had to pick two of the more caring and nice humans... who were probably in a relationship but didn't tell anyone, making him feel even worse.

And they would not leave his door alone. Coming by and asking if he was hungry - he was absolutely starving but there was no way he'd bite either of them if he needed any kind of help. What Scott needed was for them to finally go to the damn movie they were supposed to see today and let him sneak away and hunt. If he even had enough strength left for that... If he had a short nap first, then he...

"Scott? Are you really okay to stay alone?" Jimmy asked after Scott ignored a soft knock on his door. He was too worried about noises of the two cooking since they both tended to be a bit careless and often ended with random small cuts. Usually, it would not bother Scott but he was a bit of an idiot lately so... the quiet curse probably only he and fWhip knew about had his head spinning. fWhip cut himself. 

"Yes," Scott managed to choke out while biting back a growl. Why did he choose an apartment with no locks? Because he trusted his flatmates would respect it when he asked them to NEVER open his door. But Jimmy was a worried idiot and opened the door.

"Sorry, it just... you don't sound okay and we'd hate if something..."

"Close the door..." Scott mumbled hoping beyond hope he would not growl as soon as he opened his mouth. As luck would have it he did. The thing about hungry vampires was... their stomachs did not growl. Their voices got more and more growly as they went with no blood. And Scott was an idiot who had not fed in over a week.

"Are you sure?" Jimmy asked one more time, not yet closing the door what was driving Scott's thirst insane. 

Scott was not about to try and talk again. He'd worry Jimmy even more... "Jim? Are we out of bandages? And is Scott okay?"

Bad. Very bad. fWhip and his cut were right outside his open door and all Scott could do was lie there and grab at his bed, hoping nothing would tear. Not too loudly anyway...

"I think we did yesterday, and no idea," Jimmy sighed and his head peered back into Scott's room. "Are you really going to be okay?" he asked and Scott's dead, still heart sank. 

What was he supposed to do? Jimmy and fWhip were super nice to him. And he was a jerk vampire three seconds from jumping them in which case he would have to kill them and flee very far away...

"No, but I'll be after a nap... really..." Scott said, trying to hold back the growl but it came out anyway. He should have pretended to be asleep when Jimmy knocked on his door. Snore or something... He would not be feeling as terrible now. Maybe... "I... *growl* I promise..." he mumbled and hid his face in a pillow. Mentally praying to whatever god looked over vampires the two would leave him alone. Damn you remaining bits of humanity... 

"Scott... I can't just leave you like this," Jimmy sighed and walked in. fWhip followed close behind him. Making Scott whimper and worry the two even more. "Scott?" Jimmy called out and was suddenly right next to him.

"Leave. Leave. Please just leave before I..." Scott muttered into his pillow. 

He did not see Jimmy and fWhip exchange cautious looks. He didn't even feel a hand on his back. The smell was too strong... It overtook his senses and he was at the very brink of his wits. He was seconds away from a disaster.

"Scott... Please just tell us what's going on. You're obviously not okay," it was fWhip's turn to try and talk to him.

"Nothing you two need to know, I'll be fine tomorrow..." Scott muttered. "Just leave... Please..." he added, daring to look at fWhip but that was a mistake. His eyes were no longer cyan, no instead they were red, with vertical pupils so thin they were almost not there, with thirst. Seeing him take a step back Scott hid his face again. He messed up. He messed up so badly... "I'm sorry... just leave me be... please..."

"Not how it works bud," Jimmy said patting Scott's back. Scott assumed he missed his eyes.

"We're not leaving until we're completely sure you're okay," fWhip added, and another hand was on Scott's back.

What was he..."Ugh... fine... I'm... I'm a vampire and I've been an idiot and... yeah... so can you leave me so I can have a nap and get some energy back..." he explained and tried to escape their hands. 

"So... is it fair to assume you haven't been eating well lately?" fWhip asked, his voice was shaking a bit. "And me cutting myself did not help?"

"We can say that... I'll be..."

"No you won't," Jimmy stopped him. "With all due respect, you look like shit. Can we help you in any way?"

Scott was about to protest when fWhip swatted his head. "He'll insist he's okay," he huffed. "Okay, Scott. Here's the thing, neither of us is freaked out, we kind of guessed it based on you having only wine and wine accessories in the kitchen and are not freaked out. And, I'm pretty sure you don't have to drain a person completely since there were no murders in the area far longer than a few days. Would it be rude if I say you can bite one of us so you're not obviously suffering?"

Scott froze. Was he actually... "You... mean it?" he asked, daring to sit up to look at them properly.

"Wouldn't be offering if we didn't," Jimmy grinned. "Red eyes look weird on you," he added, pulling fWhip into a hug. "So?"

The vampire took a deep breath which only made his head spin more... They were right, he did not need to drain anyone and was aware enough to not lose control... "If you're sure..." he nodded, slowly and cautiously. He never told anyone and... not quite sure what he expected but certainly not this.

"Oh, just come here you big idiot," fWhip grinned pulling him close. "It better not hurt too much..." he hummed leading Scott to his neck.

Scott rolled his eyes. As if he would ever try to hurt either of them. And bit him very gently. Much gentler than he usually would even when not borderline starved. fWhip tensing up had him worried but a hand in his hair did not let him pull back so he just relaxed and focused on not making it hurt any more than absolutely necessary.

"That didn't feel like much," fWhip hummed when Scott pulled back. He had to pat him to be allowed to stop. "And didn't hurt at all after the initial bite," he added while petting Scott's hair.

"I can't have you fainting on me," Scott sighed. He was still a bit hungry after that long of not feeding or sleeping but was feeling much better.

Jimmy of course saw right through him. "Move over," he told fWhip who gladly did and leaned against a wall, and turned to Scott, "Your eyes are still pinkish. How long did you starve yourself?"

"Not that long..."Scott shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant and not like he was excited. "I'm really fine now. We can go see the movie or something now..."

"No, bad Scott," Jimmy scolded him and swatted his nose. "We can stay in, the movie is not important. So stop being an idiot, and better tell us next time you get hungry, we really do not mind," Jimmy sighed while opening a couple of top buttons of his shirt. "Come on," he smiled and Scott sighed. 

Who was a bigger idiot? A vampire with a tendency to forget to eat or two morons living with him and offering to feed him? Well, that probably did not beat three idiots who started to date over said vampire's feeding issues.

#my stuff #my stories #empires smp #empiresshipping #fwhip #scott #jimmy #vampires

[whumpshaped]

Potential

Sweet as Sugar Masterlist

so anyway this is the general vibe......... if no ones interested i dont have to continue w it but i just had this vivid image in my head earlier today and i had to write it out

tw lady whumper, lady whumpee, classism, pet whump, implied auction of said pets, manipulation, mocking addiction (smoking), dehumanisation

"Ari!" Saccharine stopped when she heard the call, but didn't turn around. Instead she waited for the man to catch up to her, panting as if he'd run a mile to get there instead of a couple steps, watching him intently as he circled around and came to a stop in front of her.

That's what smoking does to you, I guess. Fucking disgusting.

She flashed the man a polite smile, hiding her disdain and impatience. "Myles. I didn't know you were coming. I would've waited for you."

"I wasn't going to," he said, trying to regain his composure and stop gulping down air like he'd just been drowned. "I wasn't, but then- then I saw that you were coming, at the last minute. And I knew I wasn't gonna be able to make the next show, so I wanted to have the opportunity to meet up again. Talk a bit."

Saccharine tilted her head to the side. There was a reason she didn't invite him to tag along, and she wished he would take a hint. Well, didn't matter. Myles was a little annoying, a little gross, but he was clearly obsessed with her - a trait she found quite enjoyable and sometimes even useful in people.

"Perfect. Well, let's talk then. I don't suppose you've met my Palmier yet." She didn't need to tug on the leash for the pet to do her thing, bowing so far down that her forehead touched the floor.

"Nice to meet you, Sir," she said softly, and Saccharine smiled. What a perfect thing she'd created from that atrocious first draft of a woman.

Myles' eyes went wide with shock. "Don't tell me- that's another new one! I swear, every time I see you, you've got a new pet to show off!"

"Oh, we barely see each other! What, once every six months?"

"Don't tell me you think fully training a pet in half a year isn't impressive." He crouched down and said his own hello, grabbing the pet by the chin as soon as she straightened her back enough. There was no resistance as he turned her head this way and that, examining the smooth skin. Not a scar visible. "How do you do it?" he asked in awe, and Saccharine chuckled.

"I would never tell." Myles was good for this. Flattery and adoration. "Get off the floor, they'll think you're a pet too. You'll get a collar soon, I can already see security approaching."

"Very funny." He did stand, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it. "Shall we go in, then?"

"I was certainly hoping we wouldn't be standing around here forever."

As soon as she started walking, the pet followed, crawling on all fours like she'd been taught. Saccharine kept the pace even and elegant, allowing the pet to keep up, yet not giving the impression that she was catering to her.

"Are you selling it?"

"Her." She cast him a warning glance, and he looked away, pretending to be looking for empty seats.

"That's what I meant," he said when it was clear the conversation wasn't going to go anywhere until he made some form of a correction. "Are you selling her?"

"Yes, I plan to. These shows are the best places to do it." She strolled over to an empty table, tying the leash to the designated little knob on the side. Myles sat down as well, resting his chin in his hand.

"What about the one you kept? Still got i- him, still got him?"

"We had to part ways, sadly." Saccharine gestured for one of the waiters, ordering one of the more expensive drinks. She saw Myles awkwardly scan the menu over and over to find something he could afford, so she couldn't just stick with some cheap imitation of a cocktail. She had to go all out, to make him squirm. To make him feel like he didn't belong.

Eventually, he told the waiter to please come back a bit later. He'd figure out what he wanted then. Everything just looked so good, he couldn't choose so suddenly.

Saccharine almost laughed in his face as he said it.

"Why don't you keep your little Palmier?" He nodded towards the pet, and she sighed.

"I don't like her that much. She'll be happy with another owner, and I'll be happy alone for a little while. One has to be able to enjoy one's own company."

"I bet you do," he muttered.

And I bet you have no idea what that's like. Has anyone ever enjoyed your company?

"What's going on with you?" she asked, knowing the answer was going to be the same as always.

"I can't find a place that thinks I'm a good enough partner in crime. But I don't get it- I have all this experience, I make all these connections at the shows-"

You make all these impressions on these rich fuckers, fumbling around with a menu for hours until you can find some cheap, three dollar wine. Always showing up without a pet and never buying anything. You've worn the same suit the last six times at the very least. You think they don't notice?

"I wouldn't want a partner in my business."

"You're different." He gestured towards the others before continuing in a lowered voice. "You're better. Compared to you, they have no idea what they're doing. It's only a matter of time before they get caught, and that's why they should hire a partner! To help avoid that!"

To snitch on them when they inevitably get caught sooner. Come on, Myles, you wouldn't survive a day, and we both know it. We all do.

"You'll have to start a business on your own eventually. You can't keep living on these loans." She thanked the waiter as he set down her drink, watching passively as he finally ordered the cheapest item off the entire menu. She wanted to stand up and leave. How embarrassing. "Once you're in these circles, you're either the buyer, the seller, or the product. You're definitely not buying anything any time soon. Which leaves you with two options."

He responded, said something irrelevant, but she only registered it as background noise. It did leave him with two options. And just as he wasn't about to buy anything, he wasn't in a place to be selling stuff either. It left him with one option.

She looked him up and down with fresh eyes, and for the first time, she saw potential. He was a disgusting smoker, but he wouldn't have a single chance to continue with that. He was annoying, but there was nothing a muzzle couldn't solve. She wished she hadn't been joking about the security staff earlier - if Myles had been mistaken for a pet and fitted with a temporary collar, she could've even seen how it'd look on him.

"I'm boring you again, aren't I?"

Saccharine looked back up into his eyes, her friendly smile widening. "Not at all. I haven't been this interested in quite a while, actually."

#sweet as sugar #saccharine #lady whump #pet whump #myles/biscuit

[like-rain-or-confetti]

A Moment Before Dinner (Jonathan Crane)

You had thought it was just a regular evening. It was your turn to make dinner and Jonathan had been occupying Edward Nygma who just randomly showed up - as usual-. Although he did a terrible job at it making Edward and dinner your problem. Little did Edward know that if he mocked your intelligence one more time for a wrongly answered riddle then he will he would be facing third degree burns. The distance between you two being his only saving grace. Although if he actually paid attention to your face, he'd recognise quickly that your irritated expression would be a very big hint. 

That's when Jonathan entered the room, looking at the pot you were stirring. To your surprise Jonathan leaned against you, putting his head on your shoulder. He even went as far as to kiss your neck, the only area he could reach without shifting position. Your eyes snapped up to Edward with a look of disbelief, so surprised that you hadn't even heard what he had murmured to you. "Take him to the hospital." You said to Edward. "Something is wrong with him." Edward began to laugh as you slowly began stirring again, warily peeking at Jonathan from the corner of your eye. "Did you drink something? You sick?" You asked. "No." He said quietly. "You on drugs?" You asked and he frowned, squeezing you slightly. "Of course not." Your eyes shifted back to Edward who hadn't stopped laughing. 

Jonathan slipped behind you, wrapping his arms around you once more and resting his head upon your shoulder, holding you to him tightly as he watched you stir. "Let's stay like this for a while." He mumbled. "Jonathan, I'm cooking." You retorted. "Jonathan Crane isn't here anymore." He said quietly, tightening his hold and you huffed. "Yeah, no shit honey. He could never." You deadpanned and Edward roared with laughter, slapping the counter repeatedly. "Did- Did you really think Jonathan would be so clingy!? Did you even see his eyes when he came in!?" Edward mustered out between laughs. "I wasn't looking at his eyes but I had a feeling." You replied. You let out another sigh as his hold on you tightened again. Scarecrow was more determined to get your attention. "This is dangerous, what's wrong?" Before Scarecrow could meet your gaze and respond, Edward cut in. "He won't give in until you give him attention, you know. He's stubborn like that. The rest of us are lucky because he only ever wants attention from you." Edward chuckled behind his hand. "Ed, I'll cut you a deal. I'll feed you too if you keep an eye on this for me." The Riddler groaned slightly. "Fine...better be worth it." He mumbled before he stood up and walked around the counter taking the wooden spoon from your hand. You almost made comment about how he was so inconvenienced then you would relinquish the offer of dinner. He certainly didn't have to take it. 

Although you didn't get the chance to say anything as Scarecrow seized the opportunity to pull you away from the stove and hold you in a tight embrace. "You okay?" You mumbled to him and Scarecrow hummed in confirmation, burying his face into your neck, his long fingers digging into your back slightly. "Just need a second?" You asked quietly and he nodded slightly. It was barely noticeable to anyone but you who felt the small nod. "Okay." You whispered running a hand through his hair. 

Jonathan had moments of uncertainty. It was almost like a growing anxiety where suddenly things don't seem right but it cannot be explained as to why. His senses heightened and his past haunting him. It happened to Scarecrow more than Jonathan but you had been around for both instances. Scarecrow sought out your comfort whilst Jonathan would try to hide it by shutting himself away. It was of your opinion that Jonathan could handle it whilst Scarecrow was more erratic. 

The two of you were locked into an embrace for another few minutes until he broke away, blinking a couple of times. You lifted his chin. Jonathan had regained control. "Are you alright?" You asked. He nodded. "Sorry." "Don't be sorry. You know I'll take any affection from you without a second of hesitation." You replied offering him a small smile. He smiled slightly before kissing your cheek. "Yes, yes, very sweet and all but can you take this from me now!?" Edward cut in and you sighed breaking away from Jonathan and turning back to the stove.

#batman #batman villains #reader #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #one shot #oneshot

[bradsmindbrain]

I must say, I absolutely adore the way you write Ted “talking.” It’s quite fun trying to imagine what he’s saying given context clues. So on that note, maybe we could see how the two of them reacting to Jack understanding him for the first time?

Ted Talk

Summary: A few weeks after their fist meeting, Ted discovers something interesting about his powers.

TW: None

Ted watched as Jack approached the hut, a smile on his face as usual. It had been a few weeks since he had met the lycanthrope, and things had certainly changed because of it. For the first time since his accident, he had someone to talk to, someone who saw him as a friend. Jack had told him that he had bought a house not too far from the Everglades, and he was truly thankful for that. Jack was a nice man, and he didn’t need to worry about not being able to meet him again. That being said, Jack’s visits could be unpredictable at times, like this one.

He went inside the hut, grabbing the whiteboard and marker before exiting. Jack smiled when he spotted him, “Hi!”

Ted prepared to write a greeting, only for the marker to leave nothing on the whiteboard. He gave an annoyed groan in response. It looked like this marker was dead, and it was the only one he had.

He looked back to Jack, who to his confusion, was looking at him with wide, surprised eyes. He cocked his head, what had happened?

“Ted, did you just say “God dammit?”” Jack questioned regaining his composure.

His eyes widened, after his transformation, he had lost the ability to talk. He could try and make words, but they came out as grunts and groans, and oddly enough, he did intend for the groan he gave to come out as “God dammit” out of instinct. Could Jack understand him? He needed to test this. He gave another grunt, intending it to be a “Yes.”

Jack’s eyes lit up and he gave a smile, “Santa mierda, Ted. I think I can understand you.”

His eyes widened. Jack could understand him? How? How was this possible? He gave an inquisitive grunt.

Jack’s smile grew wider, “Yes, really! How are you doing this?”

Ted thought for a moment, truthfully, he wasn’t quite sure. He’s never been able to communicate with someone before verbally, sure he could regenerate, incinerate anything that feared him, and read the emotions of others… Wait. Realization struck him then and there, his ability to read emotions, it was essentially a limited form of telepathy, he couldn’t pick up certain thoughts, but he could do feelings. Maybe, just maybe Jack’s frequent visits and time spent with him formed some kind of mild telepathic bond, a bit stronger than his usual ability to read emotions. A bond that gave Jack the direct meaning of the grunts he made.

He wasn’t entirely sure if that was the case, but it seemed like a reasonable assumption. He gave a series of groans.

Jack tilted his head, much like a dog did when it was curious, “So you’re saying we might have some kind of mental bond?”

He grunted.

Jack nodded, “Any idea how it happened?”

He grumbled, fidgeting with the marker cap still in his hands.

Jack cocked an eyebrow, “You think it’s because I’ve been around you so long? Could be.” Jack smiled, “Regardless, it’s nice to finally understand what you’re saying, amigo.”

He had to agree, it was far easier to talk now that Jack could actually understand him. It felt so much better like this, words on a whiteboard could only express so much, and Jack seemed quite happy with the voice he was hearing.

Jack grinned, “So should we come up with a name for this thing? The bond you can make?”

He gave a confused look, why should they? They never came up with any names for anything they could do. Nonetheless, he was curious about what Jack had in mind. He grumbled.

Jack smiled, “I was thinking we could call it a Ted Talk.”

He looked away, giving an annoyed groan, no words, just pure unfiltered disappointment as Jack laughed.

#werewolf by night #wwbn #wbn #jack russell #ted sallis #man thing #marvel #mcu #russallis #my stuff #prompts

[xxventiswindblumexx]

I'm making an original story! Here's the first chapter!

𓁹The Lost One𓁹

Chapter one

░Cold░

It was a dark and foggy night as she ran, she ran faster and faster through the woods, she could hear the policemen chasing her.

She had done no wrong, her father however had much more to pay for the crimes he's committed against her, one of which is falsely claiming his own child of insanity and being sent away, she couldn't go back, not again.

SLASH

She tumbles some in a puddle before getting up and running again, the lights of their flashlights and dogs barking seem to get a bit distant but not enough for her to even rest for a moment, she couldn't fathom why she had to live this life, why of all people was the girl who done nothing but please everyone become a target of such abusive. She wouldn't know nor would such a damaged mind understand even if explained.

As she ran the sounds and lights soon got more distant, the forest around her seemed to change both in looks and atmosphere, erie and cold. She could've swore she seen yellow eyes staring at her if she had stopped to check but now's not the time.

Soon enough the sounds and lights stopped all together as she crumbled to her knees and hands, breathing heavily as he clutched her chest, she wore a hospital gown. She could hardly breathe as she had been running for so long barely taking the time to breathe.

She finally looked up, it was pitch dark, cold and wet in an unfamiliar place, however it's a better spot then where she had been, or the destination of her new twisted home to be if she hadnt ran.

Her hand found something warm but soft, she didn't want to look down at what was beneath her hand but felt it was there anyways, she brought her shaking fingers to touch her face, she wasn't sure but she felt tears fall down her cheeks.

She sniffed loudly, trying to regain her breath while trying not to cry anymore, trying her best to stop the shivering that began to spread throughout her body.

She sat quietly on the ground for awhile just listening to nature, the sound of her own heavy and ragged breaths were the only things she heard as she tried to calm herself down, her hand still touching her cheek and her hair falling over her shoulders.

She felt a drop fall on her, then another and another, God's, what a bad time for rain, yet she didn't seem bothered by it. She always loved to play in the rain as a small child before things went bad, before her mother died. She would welcome the feeling of the freezing rain as she managed through the aching pain of her legs to stand and continue on, this time at a much slower and calm pace, her hands dragging on each tree she passed.

She couldn't feel her feet or fingers anymore, surely by frost bite at this point.

She needed to find somewhere anywhere to sleep, a cave, and old broken shed or even an old hunters post would at least provide some kind of protection from the rain.

As she walked the more blurred her vision got and more shallow her breath became, she could tell she probably wouldn't have much longer, sure she would've survived in the asylum where she was originally going. But this place... This place had no shelter whatsoever, it was just death and pain.

Suddenly she heard footsteps coming towards her, she turned her head to see a pair of feet, monstrous type, they were far too large for a person or even someone like herself. Her blood ran cold.

She slowly stood up, using the few trees nearby to keep herself from hitting the ground. She didn't know whether the approaching creature would kill her or help her out, she just knew she would prefer if the latter didn't happen.

The stranger came close enough that she could make out a rather large wolf like body yet his head was a skull with Antlers, whatever this 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 was, it certainly didn't seem very welcoming to her.

Falling onto her back as her legs couldn't hold her up anymore, she tried to push herself backwards away, in some pathetic preys desperation to escape a predator much stronger then it.

She felt her mind go fuzzy, she hasn't slept, ate or even drank much in the past few days, all catching up with her as the last thing she sees is the creature leaning into her with his snout, as if to examine her. As her eyes closed all she could think of was of how cold it was how the wind stung her skin and the snow seeped into her clothes, making her colder than before. As she drifted into darkness she could imagine her mother comforting her but instead of the love and warmth she thought of, she saw her smiling and hugging her, telling her everything will be alright, as if her dying mother never existed.

And as she lost consciousness, she remembered the words her mother whispered into her ear, those words she'd never forget, and she thought that if her mother hadn't died when she did, she might've grown up happy, and healthy.

[semixfenz]

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#BX Dry Cleaners