#but I have to take a break now anyway. because of the horrors (adulting) so it's nice that I got this far at least!

[on-leatheredwings]

Sleepover

Yandere! Damian Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

romantic > summary: During a sleepover, Damian makes his first foray into infatuation. > word count: 1605 > [ a/n: i just love writing from the yandere’s point of view! Damian is 19 or college-age here. honestly not much plot, just musings~ i will try to write from the Darling’s POV next time hehe.]

This must be love.

“Wow, Damian… I’ve never noticed but your nails are so pretty,” you compliment, satisfied with the boy’s upkeep. Damian feels his heart thrumming against his ribcage. You are holding his hand. 

Not for the first time either, but the thrill never fades. 

If this had occurred a year ago, before Damian learned of how casual (generous, even!) you were physical affection, he might have dumbly stated, “You’re holding my hand.” Instead, he simply thinks it, on loop, in one long string. 

You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand.

Unbeknownst to all this, you simply paint his forefinger with a stripe of green so dark it looks black. 

“If we’re going to do this, it’ll be by my rules,” he had said. 

In reality, if you needled him any harder, he would’ve accepted pink nails with glitter on them. Who cares? There wasn’t anyone who dared to make fun of him at school. Not to mention, it’d be obvious to everyone that you painted them. You'd be marking him as yours, essentially. And at night… well, Robin wears gloves.

“Hn. How so?” Damian asks with feigned coolness. Mainly because he wants to hear you praise him. In your hushed, awed voice. When he dreams, you often sound like that. (And he quickly pushes that thought away.)

You look at him pointedly, grinning. Oh, he’s not so slick. You acquiesce to his whims anyway.

“Your cuticles are impeccable and your nails are finely trimmed… I’m impressed. Don’t you do martial arts, too? Crazy they aren’t more dinged up.”

Martial arts. That was supposed to explain his abnormal strength and fighting capability, the one time you saw him nearly break a man’s wrist for trying to pickpocket you. 

You accepted the excuse with only a little suspicion.

“It’s simple grooming.”

A catlike grin forms on your face. “Hm~ I don’t knowwww… Seems like you may be trying to catch the eye of a girl – you know, girls look at stuff like that.”

Damian frowns. 

He’s infatuated but not delusional. He’s aware this ‘sleepover’ is pretty platonic on your end. After nails, it’ll be skin care. Maybe you’ll even do your makeup and take goofy pictures with him. You’ll laugh and platonically huddle against him during a movie. You may doze off on his shoulder while he’ll be committing your every dewy, moisturized pore to memory. 

Because of Damian’s (self-admitted) social awkwardness with your peers, you think that gives you some sort of elder sibling-esque edge on him. You are the social butterfly, leading a naive, but well-meaning social pariah through the perils of young adult life. You don’t know you are so much more naive than he is, and he adores that.

Rather than addressing the question, he snorts. “When are you going to turn on the movie?”

You hum, completing his nail’s first coat. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” You grab the remote and press play. You continue painting, gingerly admiring his long, golden brown digits. Damian preens at the attention. 

As the movie plays, you pause often to look up and gape at the screen. It’s a horror flick, and boasts an abundance of cartoonish gore. While a bit more sensational than something he’d put on, he likes your dark taste. An annoying teenager gets their head hacked off with a chainsaw. You laugh and Damian feels his heart sing. 

There’s a chime that rings through Wayne Manor, and he has to bite back a groan.

“Pizza’s here!” you cheer. You begin to get up when Damian whips out his card in an instant. 

“I’ll pay.” To his delight, you gape in surprise, cheeks warming. 

“Oh… Thanks, Damian!” You never quite get used to him paying for things, but you at least know by now not to argue. You grab his credit card and – thank God – your fingers brush against each other. It sends the most pleasant trill down his spine. “Since you’re paying, I’ll go bring it! I won’t be long.”

A corner of his lips quirk. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it gets back to this room at all.” You stick out your tongue on the way out.

As soon as he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall – such clumsy, loud steps – Damian’s attention falls to the messenger bag you threw to the ground of his bedroom. He knows your diary is in there. (In his mind, he can hear you protest, It’s a journal!)

He’ll be quick. He flips open to a random page, and he already is laughing at your writing style. There’s little care for capitalizing letters and full of what you explained are “emoticons”, despite being handwritten. He flips to today’s entry, half-finished.

February 01. 

there’s a guy in class who’s pretty cute… one may even say HOT xP

Damian’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he won’t allow that neanderthal anywhere near you. At least, not again. Yesterday, you told him that your crush had smiled at you. Brushed fingers with you when passing papers. In the only class you have without Damian.

(Also, “your crush,” he scoffs. What a juvenile concept. You and Damian share something much deeper. His feelings for you are not so trivial.)

The semester is still young. Damian can pull any string to land himself in your anthropology class.

The rest of your entry for today (and the past days prior) isn’t anything notable except for when he’s mentioned. 

stressful day, but at least i have tonight with damian to cheer me up. he’s seriously the best …. i should tell him more often !!! (but it’d give him an even bigger head)

He doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile splitting his face. 

Damian’s keen hearing catches you striking up a conversation with Alfred in the kitchen. Despite your promise, he knows you will, indeed, take long. You love talking to everyone, even in passing. It’s an admirable quality, and one he envies.

He unlocks your phone and rifles through some messages of yours. He uses his own phone for documentation purposes. What else is there to do… He spies your jacket on his bed.

There is a shameful thought and Damian’s heart skips a beat. It is… frankly, it’s humiliating as a concept. Yet he’s enticed. It’s your jacket, after all. He brings it to his face delicately and inhales, almost shyly. Once he catches the familiar scent of your body wash, however, he allows himself to breathe it in. After being lost in it for a few seconds, he rips it away. 

Only to see his father standing in his doorframe. 

He knows what this looks like. Damian knows what this looks like. After years of working with the man, Damian can hear his thoughts as if they were his own, as they happen. 

Damian just smelled your clothes. Even if it was investigative in nature, he could’ve retrieved a sample some other way. Someone’s personal journal is open on the floor. A phone that he knows is not Damian’s is unlocked and displaying text messages. All these things are splayed out in a circle around him. It’s uncharacteristically messy of him, as well. Damian’s own phone is actively on his camera. Was he taking pictures? And most notable is the absence of you.

In summary? Damian must have some interest in you. And by this sloppy job, it’s quite emotionally charged. And at his age, it’s likely romantic.

Damian’s skin rises to what feels like a boiling heat. What is Father going to say? He can’t stop him – he can’t. Damian doesn’t even want to talk about it, let alone be reprimanded. A feral need to escape bubbles underneath his skin. Despite the panic, he channels years of League training and hardens himself. 

Bruce watches his son’s expression morph from dazed, to fearful, to steel, in real time. From Damian’s seat on the floor he offers his father only silent defiance. Bruce knows his son, his darker needs that stem from his cruel childhood. And perhaps he should’ve expected this to happen someday. Bruce exhales, eyes closing. When they reopen, his slate-grey eyes are firm and hard. 

“No one gets hurt.”

And by that, Bruce means no one dies. Because Bruce and Damian are Batman and Robin – they’re all in the business of hurting people. People who deserve it, yes, but it’s still hurt. Pain.

Damian feels immense relief. He wouldn’t have killed his father – he’s not that boy anymore. But a life without you seems similarly unbearable. Damian feels… shaken. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done. He also feels grateful, that it didn’t turn out any other way. 

His eyes drop to the jacket he holds in a fist.

“... Yes. Thank you, Father.” Bruce’s gaze lingers, but he leaves wordlessly.

This encounter reminds Damian of who he is. He is a detective, vigilante, assassin, and creature of stealth. He can’t be this careless, even if he knows you won’t notice. 

Damian returns your belongings to their place, exactly how you left it. Diary back in your bag, jacket to where you were lounging, your phone underneath a pillow, because you carelessly tossed it aside. You’ll inevitably begin to look for it and he’ll grin once he places it in your hand.

You finally return to his room, two pizza boxes of deluxe cheese (for him) and pepperoni (for you) in your arms. You laugh sheepishly. 

“Sorry for the wait, Dami.” His heart skitters at the nickname.

“It���s fine.” Your eyes glitter with excitement and optimism and purity. He finds it hard to look away, you raining down a gaze like that upon him.

“I was waiting for you.”

#yandere damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #yandere batfam #damian wayne #yandere damian wayne x reader #wish this was better but idc #its fun to just write u know :) #mine

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 3 - Dreams And...

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE) - PLEASE REMEMBER TO CHECK, THIS CHAPTER IS DARKER IN TONE!

PREV - NEXT

Your hands are pruned. It’s quiet in the extravagant bathroom, other than the sound of the tap’s running water and your own shaky breathing. This was all a bit much. Your hands are more than clean now, but you absolutely do not want to go back out there.

You kind of just want to go back into one of the stalls and cry. A core girlhood experience, except you were an adult with a job and taxes. Or, you were. You think you’re some rich scion or something in this dream. Which like, cool, who wants to slave under capitalism anyways?

…You wonder if anyone would notice if you slipped out the window. You’d been gone for a while and nobody had come looking for you, since you’d totally gotten lost trying to find the bathroom. Sure, you were on the third floor, but at this point you were willing to risk it. Even if you couldn’t walk in a straight line right now, much less climb the trellises. For some reason, you could not handle your liquor today like you usually could. But once again, this was all just a very vivid dream, so it wasn’t like you could die.

To punctuate that thought, you hear someone scream.

It cuts off instantly, and then there’s quiet again. You pause, then turn off the tap, listening for any more sound. Drip, drip, drip… you press the tap down again and properly turn it off. Still no noise. Immediately, you realise you are standing directly in a horror film. You live in Gotham for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t an unlikely occurrence. You’d gotten mugged just a few days ago.

And you were alone in the bathrooms. So unbelievably drunk, and alone in the bathrooms. You were actually so dead, it was crazy. A dream, a dream…!

Your head bows, staring into the white porcelain of the sink as you focus hard on your hearing. You don’t think you could hear the party before, but you’re not sure. It’s definitely not there now. You swallow the dry pain in your throat, trying to summon a modicum of courage. Your vision spins.

You slap your wet hands to your face and then blink through your fingers. God. Okay, okay, okay. You can do this. You survived a mugging just last week with only minimal bruising. To convince yourself of your badassery, you dig your fingers into the blemishes, hoping to wake yourself up with the pain. It’s a bad habit but you have lots of those.

…Where’s the pain? Oh god, where’s the pain? Wait, don’t panic, it’s a dream! Of course, you wouldn’t have your bruises in a dream. That made total sense. And you definitely weren’t panicking.

You splash more water on your face. Time to face the music, you drunken moron. If you were going to be in a horror movie, you’d be the final girl of all final girls.

One hand on the sink, you take your heels off. They’re going to get in the way, and the sound of them clicking against the marble will give away your location. Massaging your sore ankles, you try and come up with a game plan. You don’t know what’s going on, and it really could all just be a false alarm, but better safe than sorry and all that. It’s a gala full of some of the richest people on earth, and you’re pretty sure you saw a swat team of security guards at the entrance.

So this was probably a hostage situation or a villain attack. You’d hear more noise if it was a supervillain fighting a superhero downstairs. Then you’ll bet on a hostage situation for now. Depending on who had taken you all hostage, that could be a totally fine situation where you all just end up leaving with lighter purses, or it could be the Scarecrow’s shown up and he’s about to mentally traumatise you. Like you needed any more of that.

Of course, this was all probably still a dream. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll actually believe it. You’ll just plan ahead in case this is real (which it definitely isn’t). Plus you’d proven you could feel pain in this dream anyway, with all the times you’d slapped yourself. You hoped the fucking Tim Drake didn’t think you were too weird. Because he definitely thought you were weird.

It’s cool. You’re cool. You could handle this. You were a Gotham native after all. Totally cool. You have to force yourself not to gag on your own fear. Totally, absolutely, terrifically cool.

A few deep, calming breaths later, and you’re cracking the door of the lavatory open just an inch. You peer through the crevice, taking another deep breath when you don’t see anyone in the hallway. You push the door open a bit wider, peek your head around it to look the other way. Still empty. Another deep breath, you feel your chest rise and fall, and then you take the first step out onto the wooden floors. You wince at the slight noise the bare sole of your foot makes and hurry over to the long Persian rug to snuffle any more sounds.

And then you’re standing in the middle of the hallway in your ballgown, head swivelling back and forth as you try and catch any minuscule sounds, shoulders bunched up to your ears.

The first thing you need to check is the exits. Since you are on the third floor, and the banquet was on the first, you can assume that they’re well-guarded, but probably far away from you. Still, this is the Wayne Enterprises Tower, and there wasn’t just the party happening tonight. It was mostly empty as you’d seen but there’d been a few people you’d wandered past. They’d all seemed like late-night office workers, and the female janitor you’d bumped into was the one who had told you where the toilet was.

Was the janitor okay? Was that her scream you’d heard? Concentrate, dumbass. On airplanes, they tell you to put your mask on first before you do it for anyone else. The idea was the same here. Save yourself before you can hope to save anyone else.

That was… that was if you even needed saving. This could all still just be your own paranoia. Someone hit their knee on a ridiculously fancy side table or something. Like that scream wasn’t of pure terror. Like it didn’t sound like someone on death’s door.

Concentrate! Okay, check the stairs first. Don’t take the elevator, because you’re not an idiot. Maybe. Hopefully. Slowly but surely you creep your way back towards the entrance to the third level, where both the elevator and the stairs were. There was a map, too. You hadn’t been able to figure it out earlier, but you had a bit more incentive this time.

You make sure to place your feet carefully, aiming for the carpets and rugs. Even if your drunken steps miss half the time, you’re still mostly quiet. Every time you have to walk across a crossing you spend a minute listening, and then peer around every corner too. You’re not sure if you should be running, or if you really should try one of the windows.

Deep breaths. Keep moving. That’s the best course of action. Don’t get caught, but don’t just hide either.

It’s when you’re almost at the third-floor foyer when you hear something. There’s a crash, the sound of something breaking. No voices, though. Still, you can’t convince your body to move for a full minute. There’s a part of you that wants to go hide in an abandoned cubicle and wait, but there’s another part of you that is very aware of the rates of fires in this city. You keep going, taking a longer route to avoid the source of the crashing.

Another noise. A scream. Laughter. Spine-chilling laughter.

Shit, motherfucker. Why the hell did you get smashed at a fucking Wayne gala? Everybody knew the rogues of this city were totally obsessively in love with Bruce Wayne. Especially your own personal worst nightmare. You don’t dare even think his name, lest you summon the bastard.

Was he in Arkham right now? He should be. Like you should be at home in the Narrows getting a good night’s rest. Like you should be wearing dorky Flash pyjamas, not a dress more expensive than your rent.

He should be. It’s not nearly enough.

You realise, suddenly, that you have to make a choice here. You can walk away, pretend you didn’t hear anything, that you can’t hear anything. A woman’s cries, you think. You could leave her, save yourself. Hideaway and let whatever fate she’s facing befall her. Could you do that? Could you even stomach the idea?

In the end, the universe makes the decision for you.

“And who do we have here? What’s a pretty little thing like you doing wandering around?”

You hear your doom in his slimy voice, even though you didn’t hear him sneak up on you. Shaking, you raise your hands into the air, and slowly turn around. You see your doom in the twisted clown mask’s grin. For a second you think it’s really him, but then you notice his dark brown hair and the tanned skin under the mask. God, god, god. It’s a Joker goon. Your literal worst nightmare, given flesh. Is he here? No, no, no- You swallow down the urge to scream, to run, and do your best to keep thinking like a person and not a prey animal.

You feel like one. You think he knows that. You hope he doesn’t.

“Hey Travis, I found another one!” the man calls out, raising his gun to point at you. He jerks it, moving forward, and you turn back around obediently. The gun presses against the back of your head, and you move forward, obediently.

“Shithead, don’t say my name out loud!” another voice replies. You get to see its owner when you come around the corner and find the foyer.

There are five other people here, all tied up. Four seem to be exhausted office worker bees, who just stayed too late on the wrong day, and the last is the janitor who helped you. The kind lady gives you terrified eyes, but she’s the only one not crying among the hostages.

“Man, you worry too much. Like there aren’t hundreds of Travis’s in the city.”

“Just shut up, my god! If we leak info and it gets traced back to us, he’s docking our pay.”

Who’s he? Who’s fucking he?! He can’t be here, right? He fucking can’t be. You can’t, you can’t. God, you're going to vomit right here and now.

“Whatever. Anyway, this is the last person on this floor.”

“Check the feed again, dickhead,” the second one commands, obviously the leader between the two.

The one who caught you groans, and then you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. Is he looking at his phone? You wish you could turn around and look. You don’t dare with the barrel against you.

Your teeth dig into the side of your mouth. So did they have the security feeds? That meant you were doomed from the start. The only other option would’ve been to actually jump out one of the windows. They would’ve probably found you anyway. Hunted you down to meet their quota.

Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is looking like a big deal. And everybody knew Joker never left out on his big deal jobs, he enjoyed them too much. He’s probably downstairs demanding the Batman come meet him and have tea or something. Shit.

All of a sudden these goons seem like the much better end of the deal.

“Checked, checked, double-checked, triple-checked… There’s nobody else here,” the man behind you grumbles, and the one in front of you sighs.

“Alright, alright. Bring her over, I’ll tie her up, and then we can blow this joint,” the man says, and you really, really hope he’s not being serious about blowing this place. You’d had enough of explosions, thank you very much. Especially ones organised by the Joker.

The gun digs harshly into your skull, “Well, go on.”

Swallow, swallow down your fear. Don’t let it stop you. You walk forward to the other man, arms in the air shaking. When you’re in reaching distance, the second goon roughly grabs you and shoves you to your knees. He pushes your hands in front of you, not bothering to tie them behind you. You don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

The rope cuts into your skin. It’s going to leave marks, and bruises. The man finishes tying the knot and then pulls you back to your feet. Then he shoves you towards the elevator and turns to start picking up the other hostages. You turn so your back is toward the wall, not willing to have your eyes off the monsters for even a second.

It’s when he’s pushing one of the office workers towards you, that the second man speaks again.

“Hey, the boss said we had to kill one of ‘em.”

What? What did he say?

“Oh yeah, oops.”

The gunshot goes off before you can process the words. Before you can process the gunshot, the janitor’s body is crumpling to the floor. Before you can process her fall, blood is starting to seep from the wound in her chest. Before you can process any of that, the man behind you laughs.

He laughs. He laughs and laughs and laughs.

The janitor lies on the floor, blood seeping into her hair and uniform. You squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping over the lids. You refuse to look at the wound. At the gaping hole in her chest. And despite yourself, you know why they shot her, not you. Not any of the workers either.

Because she wasn’t worth the cash.

Yesterday, that would’ve been you on the floor. You were a fake wearing a fancy dress, who didn’t belong here at all. Still, they didn’t know that. You didn’t think anybody knew that. Not anyone but you, who had woken up in a world a little to the left.

“I’ll be down in a minute, Trav. I wanna play with this one for a bit,” the shooter says, and all of a sudden you’re thrown back into your body, into your frail mortality. You’re cold, your spine gives a shiver, and your horrified eyes find the wretched clown mask.

Like you said, your doom. You wish you weren’t right all the time.

“No way. She’s one of the high-profilers, we need her,” his leader replies, and you’re desperate to stick by his side. You didn’t think a Joker goon would be your saviour, but here you were.

“I’ll give you five K of my split,” he offers, not willing to let go of it. Of you.

The other one pauses, glances at you assessingly. There’s a glint of something in his eyes, something that tells you you’re not making it out of here unscathed. It’s something you recognise, something you even recognise inside yourself.

It’s greed. And it’s going to kill you. You always knew it would, you just didn’t think it’d be like this.

“Make it seven,” he finally announces, the deal for your soul made without any fuss or fanfare.

“You’re such a hardass. Fine, fine, seven it is.”

“Alright, and only thirty minutes, tops. Not a hair on her head, you understand me?” he says over his shoulder, waggling a finger at his coworker.

The group leaves through the elevator. It dings, and you watch in mute, stunned horror as the other hostages refuse to meet your gaze. As they abandon you to save their own asses. You couldn’t really blame them, as much as you wanted to. You were ready to do the same earlier.

“I think not even a hair is pushing it, right?” the creep says, finger reaching out for said hair. You jerk back out of his reach, an instinctual flinch. He grins, and lets his hand fall back to his side. You take a shaky step backward.

You’re trembling with fear. With the need to get away from this terror, this situation.

He gestures with his gun, pointing back in the direction of the branching hallways.

“Well, go on. Run.”

And God help you, you do.

Spinning on your heel, you flee to the echoing sound of his laughter. Your feet fall rhythmically against the marble floors, the sound of your bare soles far too loud. You can’t even do anything about it. There’s no option for stealth here, only the sort of hunt you’d expect to find in the woods.

Not here in civilised mankind’s territory. But this was Gotham, and the monsters often looked human.

You dart into a large room filled with tiny square cubicles. A call centre or something, a maze of low walls that are too small to hide behind. You keep going, teeth-gritting when his laughter cuts off. He’s taking this seriously, hunting you down. You think he’s done this before. ‘Played’ with people.

You can’t worry about those other poor victims, lest you become his next one.

Another crash, this time to your left. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide, but when you look there’s only a broken lamp on the floor. You have to swallow down the urge to cry. He is. He’s playing with you. He’s having fun with it.

You keep running, passing by halls and offices and don’t stop running till you can’t. Out of breath. You’re out of breath. You bend over, the stitch in your side too much for you to stand. Why are you out of breath? You can run more than this. You often run more than this when you’re late for your morning train.

What’s going on? What’s happening to you?

A bang, behind you. You spin around. Don’t see anything.

He’s nearby. Right under your nose. You need to keep running, you have to. Through your panting you hear his laughter again, and that’s enough fear to get you moving again. Maybe you were in Arkham, arms strapped to your side and screams wailing down the halls.

You didn’t believe it. No, not in this moment. Not right now, as you run for your life. If you lived through this, you’d probably go back to thinking it was all a dream or a delusion.

But with that monster nearby, there’s nothing this could be but real. With sweat dripping down your neck, smearing your makeup. With the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest, in your ears. With the blind, all-consuming panic you’re in.

He’s real. And he’s coming for you.

You lift your tied hands and press them to your lips, muffling the sound of your harsh breathing and soft sobs. Heart beating out of your ribcage, you push your body even as it screams for you to stop. You’re flagging. Vision’s swimming, and you can feel bile creeping up your throat. You can’t keep doing this. You need to keep doing this.

For a moment, you stop to catch your breath. And he catches you too.

You scream, tugging at the rough grip on him. He swings you around into a wall, and again, you cry out. Side throbbing with pain, singing with it. Still, you don’t stop. Can’t stop. Not safe, not safe, not safe. You push back against him, and he pushes back against you. Your drunken state is no match, and you tumble down onto the carpet. When he laughs, you look up at him, and he down at you.

The goon’s plastic mask merges with the Joker’s mutilated face, until you can’t tell the difference.

You aren’t the type to fight back. It’s just not instinctual to you. But when you hear his belt buckle clack, your foot kicks out before you can even think. You hit him squarely in the stomach, knocking him backward, and then you scramble away from underneath him.

“You bitch!”

He grabs you by the nape of your neck, yanking you backwards. You choke, hands grasping desperately at the grip around your throat, but he offers no relent. You’ve pissed him off. That doesn’t mean you can stop, can give up. You can’t stop fighting. Can’t stop struggling. Can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t stop-

The gun clicks. You freeze.

“Yeah, figured you’d be more obedient if I did that. Now, get up,” his voice is breathy, from the high of the chase or the hit you delivered, you’re not sure.

You hope it’s the latter. You hope this fucker drops and dies, right on the spot. You’re not that lucky, though.

Ah, your hands are hurting again. Not just the one, but both. Maybe you touched something. An allergic reaction of some sort. It shouldn’t be distracting you, it shouldn’t even be noticeable in the situation you’re in but god. The itchy heat is nearly as unbearable as the evil cretin in front of you.

“You think you’re gonna get away with that? I’m so fucking sick and tired of you whores who think you matter anything. You don’t, and I’m going to help you realise that,” he rants. His eyes are red through the tiny slits in the mask. Angry, dangerous, on the edge.

“Please, look I’m sorry,” you stutter out, stinging hands in the air. You want to run, but you think he’ll shoot if you do.

“You’re lucky I don’t fuck corpses.”

No, that doesn’t sound very lucky at all, actually. No, this seems like maybe it might turn out to be the new worst moment of your life. You don’t think it can get much worse than this, than the next moments that will pass. And it’s too much. It’s too, too much. Your palms are itchy and there’s a gun pointed between your eyes and the goon’s licking his lips and oh my god you’re going to die from an allergy before the bullet and-

And you just want it all to stop. You want it so desperately. You want the man in front of you to disappear, to never exist again, to go right down to hell where he belongs. You just want him gone.

Your hands stop hurting. The burning heat disappears. It’s quiet again. You can’t hear him laughing, the awful slick sound of him licking his lips. You can’t feel the cool iron on your forehead, the heat from his body so close. You can’t smell his sweaty stench. Your eyes open.

…There’s no gun. There’s no man.

You crumple to the ground with a relieved sob. Fisted hands lift to your eyes, as big blubbery tears stream down your face. Your shoulders shake with your cries. Your heart is screaming in your chest, trying to beat out of it. He’s gone, somehow. You’re alive, somehow. You’re not dead with a bullet in your brain, somehow. Somehow, somehow, somehow.

An impossibility. It’s an impossibility, and you’re so goddamn grateful for it.

As always, you don’t give yourself long to cry. Even as your tears still fall, even as you lick them off your mouth, tasting salt and lipstick and fear, you push to your feet shakily. You almost fall over with your hands still tied, shouldering the wall next to you for balance. You don’t have time to cry. No time to process what just happened. You need to get to safety.

You creep back into the main area, heart pounding in your ears, breath hiccuping. You don’t know how long it takes for you to get there. Ten minutes, thirty, maybe even an hour. When you try the staircase door, it doesn’t open. You yank on the handle, grab a chair and try and smash it in, but it stands strong. Fuck. You try the elevator as a last-ditch effort, but the buttons don’t respond.

You press your overheated forehead to the cool metal. Okay. Okay. Okay, okay, okay.

You turn around and storm back into the cubicle space, find one at the edge of the room with a clear view of all the doors, and tuck yourself under the desk. Pulling your knees to your chest, you resist the urge to rock yourself like a baby.

And you sit there, and you watch, and you wait. It doesn’t matter how many hours pass, you are not moving from this spot. It doesn’t matter how heavy your lids feel, how the adrenaline leaving your body has you sagging.

You’re not going to sleep. It’s not safe, and you’re not dying today. You’re simply not.\

You’re not allowed to.

-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you snap awake. Your fist slings out at the would-be attacker, but they dodge it smoothly. When you rear up for another, they move back, hands in the air in a show of surrender. Panting, you don’t lower the fist, your vision swimming.

It’s the Joker. But the Joker wouldn’t back up, right? And the Joker isn’t red, he’s green and purple.

It takes a while for the Joker’s pale, laughing face to disappear. But when you blink and he’s gone, you find someone else underneath. A red mask, a man you think you recognise from TV. A vigilante. God, you hated the vigilantes in Gotham.

Not more than the Joker. Not more than him.

The man stays a safe distance away, gloved hands firmly in the air. He’s tall, really tall. Broad-shouldered, scary. But he’s a vigilante, right?

Is he here to save you? Someone should've by now. The bastard's late then.

He says your name, you think. You can’t hear him properly. Wait no, it’s a nickname, one you haven’t heard in years. You could barely remember your mother calling you that as she tucked you in, as she told you she loved you over the phone, as she disappeared from the world entirely.

You hadn’t let anyone call you that since.

How does he know that name? How does this bastard know your name?

“-hurt? Hey, hey. Listen to me, are you hurt anywhere?” his voice is deep and warbled through the red metal mask, his eyes peering down at you through his domino. You just stare at him, eyes wide, barely breathing.

You need to know how he knows. Unconsciously, your hand reaches up to him, and after a moment, he takes it in his own firm grip. It’s awkward, as you’re still sitting half under the desk and he’s trying to stay as far away from you as possible. Still, his hand is warm through the leather, grounding, keeping you from drifting off into panic and fear. Into your worst nightmares come to life.

Because this was real. It didn’t matter that it was impossible, it was real. You simply couldn’t deny it any longer, this was all real.

You stare at this stranger’s gloved hand like it holds the answers to the universe. It might, in the end. It really just might. It wasn’t like the universe was making much sense at the moment.

“She seems fine. Uninjured, if a bit shocked. Doesn’t seem to have a concussion. Hardly responding anyway,” Red Hood speaks, but not to you. An earbud, you think. Superheroes used wiretaps and things like that all the time, right?

If you could even consider Red Hood a superhero. Everybody knew he had his own gang. Of course, even as your very life is being saved, it’s by a morally grey hero who runs around with crowbars and guns. Ah, you’re crying again.

You told yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t let yourself cry anymore. And you’d managed it, mostly. You think you’ll give yourself a pass for today, just a little one. You hold this stranger’s hand, and you cry.

You just cry. You cry, and you hold the hand of some stranger you hate, because you have to.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

[imtrashraccoon]

This might be my favorite chapter to date, mostly because they're warming up to each other even more. Also, I like including little personal anecdotes from my own life. Maybe you can spot them?

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Horror - Compliments

Word Count: 1,862

Curse your stupid kitchen cupboards!

You let out a quiet huff and crossed your arms in frustration while giving the top shelf an evil glare. You just wanted to get your beautiful bone china teacups down so you could have a tea party with Axe today.

You only had two of them and they were a gift from your grandmother who used to collect them, but she gave these ones to you when she had to downsize her collection. One cup had a couple of painted large red Roses while the other had a few bunches of painted blue African violets. Both cups had matching saucers and while you didn't ever use the dishware for fear of breaking them, Axe was a good friend of yours so it was worth doing.

Unfortunately, because you didn't ever plan to use them, you'd put them on the very top shelf, where you were unable to reach. Still, you were an adult, you'd put them up there so you could get them down again too!

You'd just managed to climb up onto the counter when Axe must've noticed what you were trying to do. He quickly moved to stand next to you and put his hand out in case you were to fall, all the while his skull was scrunched up into a concerned frown.

"what are ya doin', lil' chip?" he asked in a tone that was rife with worry.

You were half sitting, half crouching on the countertop and glanced up sheepishly at him. "Uh, trying to get the nice cups down?"

Axe made a tisk sound and shook his skull. It felt like he was almost scolding you, as if you were a child who didn't know better. He easily reached up and with a featherlight grip, gingerly took the two china cups out of the cupboard and set them on the counter next to you.

"ya should've asked... i was right here," he said. "what if you fell and hurt yourself?"

Your cheeks were definitely bright pink from embarrassment right now. You stared down at the floor and chewed your lower lip. "I know... I wasn't really thinking as I don't have to reach the top shelves very often," you muttered. "But thanks for your help anyways..."

He gave your shoulder a gentle pat and extended his other hand to help you get down, which you accepted. He had an amused grin plastered across his skull and you knew this was going to be just another thing added to the list of weird things you did on the regular.

"it's alright now, but maybe you should consider getting a step stool or something safer than climbing up the kitchen counters." His voice had a teasing inflection that made you almost want to lightly smack him, but you didn't.

With a sigh, you smoothed out your clothes and glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. "Must be nice being so tall, you don't have to struggle so much like I do," you said.

He didn't look so sure but didn't protest, instead his red eyelight got a bit of a mischievous glint. He crouched down to be on your own eye level for once, which was kind of funny when he lost over a foot of his height just to do so.

"it has some advantages... like how much smaller ya look compared to down here..." He chuckled and added, "it's downright adorable."

Oh no...he didn't...

You clenched your fists and refused to look at him, which was rather difficult considering how close he was currently standing to you. Sure, you were a little annoyed but he wasn't being cruel at least. Although, if he was going to tease you about your height, you hoped he could take it as much as he could dish it out.

"Oh yeah? You're lucky to be so tall... Has anyone ever asked you how the weather is up there, big guy?" you asked in a slightly snarky voice.

He nodded, his amused grin never faltering as he stood back up to his full height. "all the time, lil' chip..." he chuckled. "has anyone ever remarked that you'd be the last one to know if it ever rains?"

Confused, you blinked a few times before the meaning of his joke managed to set in. "Oh, that's a new one actually. Clever...but I'm still annoyed that you called me short."

Axe crossed his arms and briefly looked you up and down. "you are quite adorable though... pretty sure i'm like twice your size too. i kinda like it actually..." he murmured.

You'd barely considered the sheer size difference between you two lately. Not only did he have a whole foot and three inches on you, being at least six foot five, his entire body frame was indeed at least twice that of your own. Neither of you had ever acknowledged this fact out loud until now, despite how apparent it was.

"ya know what's funny?"

"What?"

"i could easily carry ya, even if you tried your hardest to get away... there's literally nothin' you could do to stop me."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. For a moment, you believed it too. He really could just randomly decide to kidnap you and there would be no way to prevent it. Despite what you'd once told him, not even you were crazy enough to fight a guy who could likely wrestle bears and handily win. Not to say you wouldn't try mind you, desperation had a way of motivating even the smartest person to do the unthinkable afterall.

Axe seemed to sense your concern and the corners of his smile fell slightly. "i was kiddin'! sheesh...i wouldn't actually do that to ya..."

You chuckled nervously, "I know you wouldn't but I also know you could. It's a good joke, just very dark..."

"i probably shouldn't have said anythin'... sorry," Axe muttered. He couldn't look at you now and ran his claws over the right side of his skull.

You couldn't help but flinch when he seemed to barely register hooking his phalanges into his right eye socket and you put your hand on his arm to try and gently stop him. When he glanced at you questioningly, you gave him a small smile and patted his arm in a reassuring way.

"It's okay now, Axe. I'm not actually upset," you said softly. "Why don't we forget about it and have some tea?"

He nodded in agreement seemingly all too willing to move on to a more pleasant topic.

Despite owning two china tea cups, you weren't fancy enough to own an actual tea pot. So instead of brewing a bunch of tea at once, you had to settle for pouring the boiling water into the individual cups with a tea bag in each one. Not that it really mattered, you could just add more sugar if the tea got too strong.

You both decided that rather than sit at the table, you could just sit in the living room where it was more comfortable to have your tea party. So, you did just that and put some fresh fruit and cookies out on the coffee table as well.

It was rather nice actually and you couldn't remember the last time you'd done this sort of thing with anyone. You couldn't help but smile at how small the tea cup was in comparison to Axe's large hand. He seemed to especially like the cup with blue African violets so you let him use it, even though it was your favorite of the two.

After a little while when you'd both finished the tea and snacks, you noticed Axe had been staring at you, as if he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how. Although, he quickly glanced away and looked down at the tiny cup he still had clasped in his claws when he realized he'd been caught.

"Is something wrong?" you asked.

He shook his skull and murmured, "no...i was just thinkin'..."

You tilted your head with curiousity. "Penny for your thoughts then?"

That beautiful cobalt blue glow flickered across his cheekbones and he gave a bit of a nervous chuckle before responding. "could i...try holding you...?"

You hadn't expected that question at all. Still, you trusted Axe by now so you didn't mind the idea. "Why not?" you answered with a shrug.

He seemed surprised you'd actually agreed to an admittedly odd request. He stared at you for a solid five seconds but when you didn't change your mind, he couldn't stop the wide grin from taking over his face.

Then, to your surprise, rather than just giving you a hug, he quite literally pulled you into his lap before engulfing you in what was best described as a bear hug. You'd let out a quiet yelp from the sudden movement but let him keep holding you tightly.

The longer you sat there with him, the less embarrassed you felt and the more you realized that you actually liked this situation. While his bones were normally cool to the touch, being close like this made you realize that he was actually pretty warm. Not only that, he felt...alive, as in you could literally feel the magic flowing through his mana lines that kept him alive. It made a sort of quiet humming sound that kind of reminded you of a heartbeat, although less pronounced.

Another interesting thing was that being in this position was more comfortable than you'd expected. Sure, he still had sharp edges and you could feel his ribs basically pressing into your back, but it was oddly comforting. You couldn't sleep like this unless you were dead tired, but that wouldn't be hard to fix if you had a thick enough blanket.

Did this mean anything? Friends didn't do this sort of thing to each other...right? Were monsters naturally more affectionate than humans were? You weren't complaining either way, this felt really, really nice. Or maybe you were just much more touch starved than you thought.

Although just when you thought things couldn't get any better, you were proven wrong. Axe pressed his skull against the back of your head and gently nuzzled into your locks of hair. You inadvertently shuddered from the pleasant sensation and your eyelids briefly fluttered shut.

"Axe?"

A low rumbling hum was the only answer to your query until he shifted and rested his chin on the top of your head.

"you're really warm...and soft...and so small..." he murmured.

You just knew your face was flushed from how intimate this moment was and his comments seemed only to make it worse. Your tongue felt heavy and your mouth felt almost as if it were sewed shut. There was nothing you could say to either defuse or add to the mood of your current predicament it seemed.

"you're the perfect size to fit in my arms," he added. "and ya smell nice...like mint and cucumber..."

You were going to be incapacitated for a while...both physically and emotionally. Oh well... If this counted as kidnapping, you wouldn't mind doing it more often.

#badsansuary #raccoons drabbles #undertale #horrortale #horrortale sans #horror sans x reader #reader #female reader #have some empathy dear #oneshot

[alfredosauce50]

Requests are closed, but this has been sitting in my head for months. A white picket fence-themed story with slasher undertones! This is a little different to my other posts (and longer) because it has a concept and build up, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Content warning: Slasher horror, adult themes, and overall fucked-upness. Viewer discretion advised. R18+ only.

The reader is referred to as she/her.

Yandere America headcanons

Everyone says the same things about him. That he’s friendly, charming, and reliable. The boy-next-door, the type you’d trust your drink with. What nobody knows is that it’s all an elaborate guise to hide his true colors. Once he reveals them, there’s no going back. You’re never getting away from him.

The worst part is, nobody suspects a thing. Everyone would think you’re the crazy one for accusing him. Thus, his untouchable reputation (and cunning) makes him the most dangerous yandere of all.

The office romance

Alfred is the most popular guy in the building. He’s a hard worker, a people person, and lights up the room with his smile. It feels like he has everything going for him: a great job, good looks, and lots of friends that can’t get enough of him. What he can’t seem to get is your attention.

You’re married to the Danish ditz from customer relations, Mathias Densen. HR usually frowns on that sort of thing, but you were cute together. Either way, you’re friends with Alfred for the same reason everyone else is. He’s charming. The only difference is that he makes an effort to see you outside of work—to see a movie, to grab dinner, or to catch up over some coffee.

“So, what do you say? Me and you at Mastro’s?”

You’re walking out of the break room when he jogs over, his blue tie swinging from side to side. He’s been going on about having a steak dinner with a friend, then complaining nobody wants to go with him—only because he hasn’t asked anybody yet.

“I don’t know, Al. Isn’t that place expensive?”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m paying for the both of us.”

“Okay,” You laugh gently, turning toward the cubicles. Everyone is clacking away on their keyboards or speaking into their telephones. Your husband is one of them, only he’s more animated than the rest, nodding away and chuckling every now and then. “I’ll try and get Mat to pick me up at ten.”

“Great! I’ll be sitting in my office pretending to do stuff until we get off.” He beams.

He likes getting on your nerves. It’s that one trick that gets you to feel closer to him. And it works. During work hours, he’ll drop by your desk to steal your snacks for a reaction. He will literally pluck a candy bar or pastry out of your hand and stuff it in his mouth while walking away. When you get mad at him, he’ll just laugh and go, “you’re not supposed to eat at your cubicle. I’m just saving your ass from trouble. If you don’t believe me, you can take it up to HR.”

If he’s not picking on you, he’s a total sweetheart. Alfred will make you coffee without being asked. Mathias usually keeps an eye out for stuff like that, doing favors for you when you need them, but not when he’s predisposed with work. He’s easily distracted, unfortunately. And Alfred is an opportunist. “You look tired. I’ll add in an extra bit of everything to give you the energy.”

Being closer to him, he can act more like himself when he’s around you. That means less of the laughing, small talk, and all that nonsense. He can actually give you a straight answer. You’re willing to let him explain, and if not, you seem to trust him for his judgement. He loves that. He thrives off validation. But by the rare occasion you do disagree with him, you mostly just poke fun at him. “Doesn’t that seem kinda stupid? Or am I just an asshole? I’m the asshole? Okay, fine.”

He starts obsessing over you. It’s refreshing to be around someone he doesn’t need a social battery for. Alfred is also lonelier than he’d like to admit. He can’t count how many superficial acquaintances he has. You’re an outlier, so he make it clear he’s high-strung about you in a ‘guy best friend’ way. He won’t stop competing with Mathias over everything as a joke. It’s really not. “So, is the husband gonna take you to Field of Screams this weekend, or am I gonna have to?”

He makes his attraction to you glaringly obvious. Alfred doesn’t care to hide it. It starts off subtle, like looking at you when he’s laughing in a group setting. Then, he’ll start gazing your way when you aren’t even paying attention to him. When it gets to that point, he has the balls to hold your waist when he’s around you. When I say he’s an expert at playing things off, I mean it.

That’s when he starts scheming. He will match his schedule with yours and sabotage Mathias’s. You start seeing him more during the work week, not knowing it was his doing. Alfred will catch you in the break room every day, making sure to get in every ounce of interaction there is.

What gets him to blow his cover is jealousy. And not from the third-wheeling he’s already doing. That, he can keep a lid on. But telling him you hope to have a baby soon? With your husband?Alfred will turn red in the face and lose his composure. His reaction is visceral, rambling about why you shouldn’t, that it’ll ruin your career, that kids aren’t economic, and any other bullshit reason he can come up with on the spot.

“You’re too young,” He laughs breathily. He’s already rubbing you the wrong way, but he drives the stake in with this comment. “And plus, do you really wanna have a baby with that guy? I mean, look at him—”

You slap him right across the face.

His head turns in the direction of your hand. He falls silent, his smile gone. That’s the end of your friendship. But to him, it’s the start of something else. And it isn’t half as holy as what you have with Mathias. Or what anyone has, for that matter.

“What, do you hate me now? Just say it and I’ll leave you alone.” Alfred gives you a side-eye.

“I really want to hate you.” You fume, wrapping your arms around yourself. Your voice is hushed to hide the hurt in it. “You’re an asshole. But I just want you to apologize, even if I shouldn’t talk to you again.”

“Fine. I’m sorry.”

When you argue

Alfred is manipulative. He victimizes himself or over-exaggerates to make it seem like something is not his fault. “I’m sorry for giving my opinion. I was just trying to be honest,” or “Great. Now I’m the bad guy.” are typical responses when you confront him. He hates being confronted. He will do anything to avoid the blame, even if it means pinning it on you. He never admits he’s wrong.

He needs to have the last word in an argument. He will go back and forth with you for hours if he has to. He only ever stops when you give up, meaning you storm out on him. He’s knocking on your door, pleading to work this out with you. Shut him out all you want, he’ll force himself into the room. “Babe, just hear me out. I’m sorry for being an asshole—wait, don’t lock the door—you locked the door. You know I have keys, right?”

If you’re crying, he turns gentle and affectionate. Kissing, hugging, whispering how sorry he is for hurting your feelings. Alfred then makes it up to you with a romantic dinner, a movie night, or flowers. Even then, he still won’t double-down. He only feels bad for making you cry, not for the point he’s making. Egocentric is his middle name. He thinks his opinions are always right, and can’t see things from another perspective.

Psychology

He has a sense of entitlement like no other. Being close to him will give him the confidence to do anything. He will go from a friend to a homewrecker pretty fast. Why? Because he can. It comes from his undying belief that you’ll always forgive him. That you like him enough to let everything he does slide. And he won’t think twice to take advantage of your soft spot for him.

He has a major superiority complex. Alfred loves what he is—his intelligence, charisma, and wit. He also believes he’s far better for you than Mathias is. What he has with you is more special, and he’s dying on that hill. “You can be with him in another life” is bullshit. Fuck that. Having a husband won’t stop him from chasing you, let alone your rejection. You just need to give him some time. You’ll warm up eventually.

He’s mastered the art of seduction. Once he admits his attitude is out of jealousy, he will try and get you to give in to him. If he can kiss you, or better yet, get you to have sex with him, your marriage will be over. He’ll have you all to himself. “I didn’t want you to have his baby because I want you to have mine. Okay?”

Alfred is very traditional. He loves the idea of having a nice big house in the suburbs. He has a thing for kids too, so it’s no wonder why he freaked out so much in the first place. He’s also happy to play along with gender roles, however obsolete they are. He wants to be the provider. That’s one thing he mentions to persuade you to dump Mathias and marry him instead.

He’s obsessed with his image. Alfred needs to look like a perfect poster boy to compensate for everything he’s thinking about doing, or what he’s already done. Being admired is a coping mechanism for him to be at peace with himself. He’s deluding himself that he’s a good person. There’s a practicality of a good reputation too—he can avoid any and all suspicion.

What’s unique about him is that he never ‘snaps’. He retains a level-headedness throughout, even while doing the most unsound things. Making threats, stalking, you name it. He can look Mathias straight in the eye and say, “I’ll kill you,” before smiling and playing it off as a joke. It’s not. He’s already thinking about how he’s gonna do it.

He feels no empathy for his victims. There’s a ‘necessity’ in his actions, and he refuses to think they’re really just violent impulses. He associates aggression with unrefined criminals, which he feels he’s above. He’s too clever and classy to be a criminal. He’s too ‘in control’ of himself. Alfred could be the most dangerous out of all the prisoners behind bars, but he’d get pretty pissed being treated like the same—like an animal.

He’s a true-blue psychopath. It’s hard to gauge how much love he’s capable of, but his obsession with you goes without saying. Keeping you in his grasp is all he can care about. Controlling how the world sees him will make sure of that. Killing anybody in his way is just maintenance. There’s a satisfying finality of death, the absolute silence of possible witnesses. His victims will never get him caught if they’re in the trunk of his car. The soil in his garden. When they let out their last breath, all they see is the million-dollar smile that everyone fell for. It’s a final display of power, a cruel reminder that he will never be caught.

His first target is your unassuming husband. The trigger is simple—your plans to start a family with him. Alfred needs to get rid of him before that happens. He will study his schedule before following him in his car. When Mathias is alone, he will sneak up from behind and hit him in the back of his head with a bat. Alfred will pack his body in his trunk like he’s packing for Summer.

He’ll comfort you while you’re grieving your husband’s sudden disappearance. When you’re anxious in the middle of the night, he’s more than happy to talk to you over the phone. Alfred is now closer to you than ever, and makes it a habit to swing by and keep you company. What he can’t change is how you feel about Mathias. He’s long dead and gone, but your love for him is undying. Sometimes, you might even cry about how much Alfred reminds you of him.

That’s how he comes up with this: impersonating and replacing your late husband. An opportunity comes along when you get in a car accident. Alfred rushes to the hospital to see you, only for the doctor to inform him of the brain trauma you endured. You have retrograde amnesia; you can’t remember major details about your life. Not your friends, family, or a Mathias Densen being in your life. Alfred would be a fool if he didn’t take advantage of that. He will sit by your bedside and lie that he’s your husband, the Mr to your Mrs.

Home life

Alfred is a con artist. Not only will he convince you of your new marital status, he’ll get rid of any evidence of Mathias being in your life. He’ll photoshop his face out of your pictures and replace it with his own. It’s easy to do because they look similar. Then, he shows it to you to ‘refresh’ your memories of him. You’re sitting in your hospital bed, bonding with him over events that never happened. Not with him, anyway. “And these—” He flips through a photo book before wiping his eyes. “—these are our wedding photos. They’re really, really pretty, I know. We rented out a National park and everything.”

He takes you ‘home’ to the middle of nowhere. The house is a huge, rustic, and gorgeous manor in the mountains, i.e., miles away from your next door neighbor. It’s the perfect getaway for fresh air, quiet, and enjoying the wilderness. Alfred can live the life he’s always idealized, and with the woman he’s idealized it with. He won’t have to worry about anybody finding you here, either. “Once you get a little better, we can try out the pool. It’s heated.” He grins, turning to you with a spatula in hand. You’re sitting in the patio while he barbecues some meat. As for the apron, it’s a bright pink one with ‘kiss the cook’ on it. And you do, thanking him for how sweet he’s being.

He’s a dedicated husband. Alfred is incredibly sensitive to your mood, and will do anything to keep you comfortable. He has no problem going to work, doing the chores and being there for you when you need him, especially while you recover. You worry you’re not doing enough, but he always assures you otherwise. All he wants is for you to get used to moving around on your own. Deep down, he knows that having you is more than what he deserves. Being the perfect hubby is almost like his redemption for what he did.

He works on himself. He can’t ruin what he has with you, so he tries to mellow out his more undesirable traits—narcissism, apathy, etc. Alfred will go to therapy for it. Separating from him isn’t on the table. Ever. What are people gonna say when you tell them you divorced a man you never married? What is Alfred gonna do when they tell you about your real husband? Keeping you happy is his number one priority, and he’ll feel good while doing it.

Alfred manages all your affairs. You don’t know where everything is, all your files, documents, and important passwords. You don’t ‘remember’ them, apparently. But that’s no problem. He can handle it. He becomes the more dominant one in the relationship, being responsible for the bills and bureaucratic side of things. There’s nothing you can do without asking him first, but it never feels restricting, or demeaning for that matter. He’s always kind about it, doing things for you and taking the lead, so you feel protected.

He’s very sensual. Alfred values the physical aspect of the relationship, and, of course, the time he spends with you. He loves taking you on long walks where he can just hold your hand and ramble about all the animals he wants to find. Deer, chipmunks, even butterflies. He loves it when you take off his glasses just to kiss him. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to look for animals anymore. “Wanna go home and kiss in the pool?”

He likes sleeping in on Sundays. That gives you the chance to get up and make breakfast for him. Alfred is a pretty heavy sleeper, but it doesn’t take long for him to wake up when you’re not next to him. He will get out of bed, throw on a robe, and saunter into the kitchen with the worst bed head of the century. While you’re frying up some pancakes, he will hug you from behind. “Can you put in some chocolate chips for mine?” Alfred mumbles, squeezing you tighter. You ask him to let go of you so you can get it for him, and he’ll just change his mind on the spot. “Nah.”

He has to be in the same room as you. The house is pretty damn big, but it doesn’t feel like a home when he can’t be with you. If you’re folding laundry in the bedroom, he will walk in, flop onto the bed, and clack away on his laptop. If you’re watching TV when he comes home from work, he will put his head on your lap and take a nap. Alfred is clingy when he’s tired, but who doesn’t sleep better when they’re around loved ones?

He’s the most affectionate when he wakes up in the morning. Not only is he comfortable in bed, he’s turned on by your smell. You’ve been under the covers with him for hours, so your scent is the strongest now. Alfred will cuddle you for a good hour or so, kissing you until you memorize the taste of his tongue. He also has to deal with morning wood, so morning sex becomes a bit of a routine. It’s the first thing on the menu, after all.

Not a month goes by before you find out you’re pregnant. Either from him, or Mathias. You think it’s Alfred’s. Alfred doesn’t know that, though. But it’s not like he’s gonna check. A paternity test could potentially be evidence for his crimes. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He’s excited to be a father, and there’s nobody else out there that can claim the baby is theirs. The baby will look like him too, so it won’t make much of a difference.

He’s happy, you’re happy, and Mathias has germinated into a flower. There’s a pretty patch of daisies in the backyard, which you see Alfred tending to every now and then. He’s picked up gardening as a hobby ever since he moved here.

“I didn’t know you liked flowers,” You comment mindlessly, staring into the yard from the balcony. The daisies sway lightly to the breeze, and you stand watch. He’s hugging you from behind, kissing your head and cheek. “They look really nice, by the way.”

“Nice enough to not be dug up, I hope.”

“Why would I dig up something you planted?”

“You wouldn’t.” Alfred smiles. “You wouldn’t.”

#Happy Halloween 🎃 #this is probably the most fucked up thing I’ve written so far #Goodbye Mathias. enjoy being a flower I guess #hetalia #hetalia america #aph america #hetalia headcanons #headcanon #alfredosauce50 #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia x reader #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #yandere #yandere headcanons #hetalia fanfic #america x reader #alfred f jones #aph denmark #Denmark x reader

[quaranmine]

letters from the lookout #2

(HC Firewatch AU snippets)

June 8, 1988

Mumbo has loaded his bags into the car, shut the door, and checked the ties on the bike rack for the third time when he heads back up the stairs to say goodbye to Grian. The morning is cool and dark, and the streetlights are still on outside. It’s still. The sun isn’t up yet. 

He steps inside and closes the door as quietly as possible. He already slammed it by accident again on his first trip outside, and he’s trying his hardest not to upset any of their neighbors at this hour. 

Grian is sitting at the table under its warm ceiling light and has, kindly, looked better. He’s wearing an oversized university t-shirt and sweatpants, and looks like he might fall asleep again at any second. Grian is not typically an early riser, only incidentally so—thrust into the unwanted world of early alarms by the usual dread and horror of being an adult with a job. But this morning is still earlier than he normally wakes up. 

There’s a cup of coffee, mostly full, sitting on the table in front of him, which Grian regards with bleary eyes. Grian also typically drinks tea, not coffee, except on mornings where he decides he needs some extra strong caffeine. Mumbo’s not sure the coffee has any extra caffeine than the tea does, given how strong he’s seen him brew it. He loves coffee, however, and his roommate knows this. 

“I made that for you to take with you,” Grian says. He squints at the cup again. “I did drink a little of it. Sorry.”

“Erm, that’s alright mate,” Mumbo says hastily. “I’ll just stop by someplace on the way and get something for myself.”

“Oh, okay,” Grian says, immediately taking another sip. “So you’re off now I guess?”

“Yeah,” Mumbo says. “Just came back to say goodbye and do a final sweep of anything I’ve forgotten.”

“Good.” Grian nods, and then appraises Mumbo, up and down. “Are you driving all the way today?”

“If I can.”

“Ugh,” Grian says. “That’s way too far. You should rest. It’s like, one state over, why is it eight hours?”

“Because America is big,” Mumbo says. 

Grian wrinkles his nose. “Don’t like that.”

“I’ll spend the night when I get there before I go do anything,” Mumbo says. “I have to get the backcountry permit at the office, anyway.”

“Fine,” Grian says. “Drive safe. Call me when you get there. And when you get back. When do you get back?”

“Uhhh, if all goes well, then June 15. But the last part of the trail might be tricky and I’m not sure I’ve broken up each day into a reasonable enough distance to cover. So I think I might end up staying another night, in which case I’d give you a call on June 16.”

The information is already written down on the calendar stuck to the fridge, but Mumbo knows Grian wants to hear it again, just in case. Mumbo’s going by himself, after all, so it’s best someone knows where he’ll be. 

Especially since he’s going to be really in the wilderness this time. There’s mountain trails, and then there’s empty mountain trails. Shoshone National Forest has plenty of the latter, and it’s precisely that solitude that is drawing Mumbo. Everything in his life is busy, busy, busy and stress, stress, stress. He’s sick of it. It feels like his brain is being squeezed out of his ears every single day and he needs a break if he wants to get out alive. 

Grian’s brain is also being squeezed out of his ears, but he seems to be at an earlier stage in this process where he’s still mostly okay with it all. It makes sense, though, and Mumbo can’t fault him for it. While he got a jumpstart on a career right out of university a few years ago, Grian has been sifting through apprenticeships and half-jobs for a long time to build experience. His architecture license is still shiny and new, and he isn’t jeopardizing that to follow Mumbo on his last-minute trip. 

Mumbo hugs Grian, and they say a brief goodbye. Grian reminds him to call him, and to buy him a postcard somewhere, and proclaims he’s going back to sleep for at least another hour. 

Mumbo steps out into the cool predawn air once more, and a shiver runs down his spine. Is it the cold, or the anticipation? He gets in the car, and just sits in the seat for a minute before turning on. He takes a deep breath. It’s okay right now. He has nobody to report to but himself (and sometimes Grian) for the next few days. He’s free, even if it’s just briefly. 

He turns the key in the ignition, and drives. Every mile bleeds away more stress.

#sorry about this one. it hurts doesnt it. the last time grian ever saw mumbo. the not knowing something bad will happen soon. augh #hc_firewatch_au #mumbo jumbo #grian #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #quara fanfic

[faislittlewhiteraven]

Undertale/ISaT crossover thoughts 3

(aka the 'Sif and family explore The Island' edition)

Had a lot of Undertale/ISaT crossover thoughts (here's the post for how I'm crossing them over in general, and here's the post for an overview of each of the three major plot lines) but most of my actual thinking has been about Sif and family exploring The island so I'm gonna go into some depth for once rather than overview and hope this is useful for ideas for anyone writing any sort of 'Sif and family go to Sif's homeland' fic rather than the Undertale crossover centric stuff most of the other posts have been.

Side note: Location names in my notes is very minimal at this point as I generally look up names last when plotting anything. But er, working name of the Island is The Isle of Chara (because Undertale's Chara is kind of a big deal in this actually and good odds the final name will probably have Chara in it) so please keep that in mind in case I somehow end up typing that somewhere here in my notes.

---

Start:

Sif and family's plot starts with the return of colours and memories (caused by the breaking of the Barrier by the monsters). A day is spent kind of just 'emotionally reacting' to all that (Sif's kind of overwhelmed and in tears) but next day the group actually sit down and discuss whether it's worth them going or not because, yes they are the Saviours of Vauguard and yes they're right next to Bambooche but well, who knows what state the Island is in right now and if it turns out to be... Unpleasant, it is definitely going to hit Sif hard.

Siffrin, naturally does want to go, but am definitely having Sif mentally going over all the potential horrors of the situation (everyone just... Vanished without a trace leaving empty streets and homes? Piles of skeletons because everyone died in an instant? His parents completely untouched by the passage of time wondering why he, an adult stranger covered in scars is claiming to be their missing child?) before confirming with the others he's up for this and that they'll need his Island language skills in case of survivors and for reading signs and records anyway.

How do they get there:

At first the think of taking a boat but well, turns out the Island wasn't the only thing erased from memory and as they reach Bambooche it becomes apparent that- Oh! That 'spooky hill everyone just avoids' is actually a really big and complete with steel, concrete and 'our world modern' tar road bridge, that goes all the way out over the ocean and clearly extends towards the Island.

Cue Party stopping by Bambooche's harbour and the local House of Change to get an idea of options: The House also wants to send people to Vauguard's new/old neighbours (in general all the Houses in Vauguard are very curious and there's a ton of messengers and 'Message Craft' going back and forth everywhere right now) and they promise to get the word out to everywhere (including the press) that the Saviours of Vauguard are investigating so no one has any reason to worry. Cue awkward/nervous Mirabelle laughing and trying not to freak out at the pressure of being so important... Again! While many local sailors are willing to make the trip but well, prepping the ships for an unknown landing will take a while and everyone is nervous about the 'was apparently always there' giant bridge looming overhead (what if bits of it fall?).

So after a bit of back and forth the party go for the bridge. It needs people to check it for structural damage and Sadnesses anyway and the party have people capable of handling both (gives Nille construction analysis skills) so welp!

Bridge:

Actually approaching the bridge the party spy some weird 'metal lumps' that as they approach several members of the group (not just Sif) recognise as long abandoned cars. Which are everywhere, to the point its genuinely hard to get around them, and the group realise the 'little building next to the bridge' is actually the entrance for an underground car park. Cue the group finding a 'building' built into the base of the bridge; sadly the door is locked and despite Isabeau and Nille's best efforts they can't smash it open, but Sif's pretty sure it's probably the door to a train station judging by the glass and metal tube they can see running from the side of the building base all the way under the bridge.

Cue talk on what the crab a train even is as they make their way back onto the actual bridge and start climbing and hopping over the sea of cars (Odile wants everyone to know she hates all this jumping btw), but the silly vibes stop dead when the groups starts seeing the remains of car wrecks and some never buried corpses left at the wheel/caught between two lots of crumpled metal (it's been like 18 years so they're pretty much all picked clean skeletons but yeah, Bonnie is definitely having their eyes covered by Mira). ...Isabeau points out that all the cars and remains here very definitely indicate that the people of the Island were not instakilled/frozen in time by whatever happened and, most likely, they were hit by the memory erasure effect and those who could remember how tried to flee the Island for places less detrimental to their psyches but... It's honestly kind of amazing that there aren't more crash wrecks and bodies given how mentally distressed everyone driving must have been.

It doesn't help cheer anyone up but the observation is noted (Sif keeps getting shoulder pats from everyone since well, this isn't the worst case scenerio but it's pretty bad), and the group continue walking until finally they reach a 'Craft' Station (think gas station but like, magic wish stuff for fuel or something. Thinking there's a favor tree 'tank' next to the building and everything) where they find a few scribbled notes in Vauguardian from the last worker there (bilingial type, lived on the island, trying and failing to remember the island and 'something, someone?' important they left there, decided to head for Vauguard but only after noting down everything they can and making sure all the 'time preserving seals' on the food storage containers are working properly. Just in case someone needs them) and a whole heap of fridges and 'glass cases' with somehow still fresh food inside them. Sadly the cooking implements in the building weren't nearly as resistant to the flow of time but the group decides they'd rather spend the night outside in their tents anyway so they set up camp, Sif shares more of what they do and don't know about all this weird stuff they keep encountering (some but not a lot; Sif recognises the appliances and roads but their coastal hometown was much more 'traditional' and they don't have a clue how all these high tech craft machines actually work outside of making sure they're set up right and flicking a switch) and have a nice dinner before going to sleep.

Next day is walking, with a side order of more walking. Mood is a bit better after talks and rest, but most of this gets skipped (during which the precipitation that collected on the bridge during the cold night evaporates into a thick fog, and then starts slowly clearing up under what looks like strong sunlight) until the group finally see the actual island itself for the first time and- Oh wow. That's an actual city (for an idea of the visuals please imagine the city in the background of the Undertale credits scene where Papyrus is driving along a bridge in a car). Group are blown away because, damn, somehow they weren't expecting that (this is waaay too big a place for them alone to explore, thank goodness the Houses will be sending teams in soon) except for Siffrin who promptly recognises the place as something of a tourist/heavily Vauguardian influenced city that he used to visit on rare occasions with his parents: Usually for big events like going to see a big theatre production on his birthday or to attend the Island's biggest Change festival (brought over by the large Vauguardian immigrant population) which his mom's family always loved attending.

The City:

Takes the group another hour or two to actually reach the city itself (walking takes time alas) but when they get there, yep there sure are a lot of signs in Vauguardian and little Change God statues everywhere. ...Also a lot of signs of looting and unchecked plant growth and 'feral' animals everywhere but most of the buildings look pretty good (Odile is still instantly 'none of us are entering going up or down any floors past ground level in any of these without good reason before Nille/other professionals can check them over for instability' though), and though it takes a bit of awkwardly trying to read a rotting signpost map, Sif is able to guide everyone to the central train station...

Which still has its automated trains working!!! (Sif takes a moment to brag about how 'of course they're still fine! All public transport systems are safe guarded by the best protections applied Wish craft can manage' before wondering why they feel so proud of that something their dad used to say a lot?) Cue party quickly finding the 'Vauguard line' which, yes is working and is just waiting for passengers, and (before proper discussion of 'do we take the train back to Vauguard and unblock the station doors on the other end' can be had) a trainline that stops by Siffrin's home town down by the Island's Southern coast.

...Needless to say, they go for Sif's hometown first (they're 100% planning on unblocking the Vauguard station's door at the nearest possible opportunity afterwards though).

Cue silly scenes of everyone boarding the train, comments being made of the silly 'mascot' figures in black and white everywhere (thinking I may cameo Ingo and Emmet in setting), Odile mentioning that she remembers riding trains -much less sleak and automatic than these ones- in Ka Bue during her youth (presumably their use being associated enough with the Island they were forgotten about when the Event happened), Isabeau turning out to be majorly freaked out by the closing doors and general nice vibes before whooosh they're off to Sif's hometown.

Siffrin's hometown:

Party get a nice scenic view of the coast and a lot of 'old fashioned if fancy' looking coastal buildings as the train zips along and pulls into an elegant if overgrown looking station (I'm thinking greek column/smooth plain stone everywhere vibes and IDK why).

One side of the station leads away from the coast in the direction of what looks an actual town, while the other goes towards the coast and in general seems like a much quieter 'district', with lots of more old fashioned looking buildings (some clearly more damaged by the years without care than others), lots of trees, boat houses and cobbled pathways.

Naturally Sif immediately heads in the direction of the coast, at first slow then running ahead as he recognises the streets and houses before finally stopping at a house in very good condition. Party catch up and yeah... This is Sif's home. That tree had a swing, the marks on the door are from when Siffrin got it into his head to try carving 'stars' on everything for 'good luck', that over there is the 'public door' to Dad's observatory he left open to the public because all Islanders deserve to have unrestricted access to the stars but just as often people from town would just walk right through the house to get there because Mom loved having so many guests and their 'private family rooms' all had locks so letting people freely wander their home was fine and-!

...Yeah Siffrin is terrified of going in alone but fortunately their family of choice is there and well, in they go.

Everything inside is in equally good nick (the place itself is simple and homey but also clearly high quality stuff everywhere) and somehow only very barely dusty, though the group are quick to notice that all the cupboards are bare, there's clear signs of someone searching and packing away things (books all over, things left open, scattered things like bowls and cups -someone trying to decide what to take?) and well. There's a bunch of notes, written in Vauguardian on the kitchen table. Odile reads it out:

The writer cannot remember her name, or where she is, her family which she knows she must have because there's three plates here, just as there are three bedrooms and one of each is for a child she can't remember she can't remember but. She can think enough to write things down, to check on her neighbours and get them to eat. ...No one can stay here. She remembers Vauguard so it must be safe, and... There's a boat, in the warehouse, she and others can take. She and the friendly boulanger she can't remember he's her friend but she can't remember know how to rig and sail it and they're more coherent than most everyone else so... If they head there, maybe things will be fine? She's always liked Vauguard and the Change religion, always thought about changing herself a little even if he likes her as she is She can't read that last line and Changing would be nice, she thinks. ...though, if the family she must have are looking for her, she'll need to keep some things the same. Darkless kinky hair is unusual isn't it? Especially with the darker skin she inherited from her Vauguardian mother so she'll keep those, but... Oh what if she makes herself really stand out in other ways? Then. Then maybe they'll notice and be drawn to her even if they can't remember any better than she does! She lists the things she does remember about herself once more, where she plans to lead everyone (Dormont is a nice place. The quiet slow pace there might help the others adjust), all the supplies she plans on taking (a porcaline doll. Her 's favorite. Hugs it constantly even though it feels awful), a few complaints about people who absolutely refuse to leave even though they're every bit as mindblanked as the rest of them and leaves an end note inviting anyone who reads this account to please enjoy their rest in her home but to please, please please not damage anything because- Someone else might not want it damaged and. She can't remember, can't handle even entering some of these rooms it hurts too much but. Please. She wants everything here to remain where it is, until the people who belong here can return.

...

So um. Yeah.

Big group hug and tears are had but Sif being Sif tries to push on quicker than they should, group reluctantly accept that he might just need some time to process and with Sif's blanket permission ("It's my family house. You're my family, so you can go wherever you want") most split into smaller groups inspecting all the rooms and things, with Odile and Isa checking out Sif's dad's study, Bonnie immediately poking their nose into Sif's childhood room dragging Sif along to tell them all about everything in there (Sif is having like all the nostalgia, heart ache and 'genuinely wanting to show Bonnie all the cool things, oh! The toy aeroplane that actually flies =D' moods right now), and Nille and Mira giving the more rummaged areas a quick look over since well. Good odds they may be here a while and knowing where stuff is might be handy.

During this period thinking Mirabelle should have something of a mild freakout for many reasons over the thought that Euphrasie -her mother/mentor figure- could possibly be Siffrin's mindwhammied birth mother because Dormont was mentioned, and the Head Housemaiden never really talks about her past and she knew of Wish Craft, and has that genuinely really rare darkless kinky hair and the hand writing on the note seemed familiar and aaaaaaa!!!! Cue giving Nille a scene of trying to help calm Mira down' mostly by pointing out there's no way they could possibly know the truth right now, pointing out that post the return of colours they can't really be sure what 'darkless' they're even talking about here, and Sif still flinches whenever Euphrasie is mentioned due to how much he associates her with the loops so if they ARE related... It's probably going to be a good long while before they can even consider reconnecting anyway so Mira has plenty of time to sort through her feelings on this, talk to the related parties to confirm if her suspicions have anything to them, and Euphrasie would probably need even more time to process it all than Sif and Mira will put together (good odds she'd currently be going through a massive breakdown/freakout back in Dormont over realising she has a kid she has no idea the identity, well being or anything of).

Mostly out of direct 'scene to scene' stuff at this point but thinking the group end up spending the night in the Observatory, which is MASSIVE and Siffrin sort of manages to awkwardly get across that observatories not directly used for study are always like that because they're basically public churches for Islanders since viewing the guiding light of the stars with others is a holy/community kinda thing but... Also Sif's family on their Dad's side have owned this observatory/the 'star viewing area' on these cliffs for generations and it IS totally normal to spend every other night stargazing with random strangers and to be given near constant lessons on stars and proper behaviour by your Dad so all the other families know you're being properly pious and- Cue everyone being like: 'hey Sif, I think your family might've be a little less 'humble coastal folk' and more 'stupid rich' than you might've realised from the perspective of being a 13 year old, also the notes and diaries in your Dad's study scream political work and someone who arranges a lot of religious stuff' and Siffrin trying to wrap their brain around essentially being the Island's version of Mira but with like, a lot of money on top of that.

Other:

They 100% find the body of someone who killed themselves recently when looking around... Somewhere. (too many days ago for them to have possibly stopped this person but definite confirmation that survivors of the Island might've been hit hard by suddenly remembering and having no support)

Probably meet Undine on the rail system while looking for pockets of survivors still on the island - Undine is doing the same on behalf of the monsters trying to set up a new government so um. Yay happy first contact?

Once Sif's group has met up with the Undertale characters there' definitely gonna be some Sif and Frisk friendship stuff, though probably not before Frisk and Bonnie (and MK?) friendship causes mild craziness.

(...Must have Sif, Isa, Toriel and Sans pun off. I can't write for beans but I MUST! For the PUNS!!!!)

Scene where Siffrin learns the Elder guy who's been looking after all the kids in the Village by Mt Ebott (main area the monsters have set up shop so it'll probably be renamed by Asgore 'Home Town' soon), is their grandfather on their mother's side and a bit of family history. - namely that Sif's mother was half Vauguardian (grandma was sickly and died before Sif was even born), that travelling to other countries and marrying 'outside the island' was seen as something very odd (slight xenophobic attitudes to outsiders?) back in Grampa's day, and a lot of little tidbits about Sif's parents like how his mom loved fishheads so so much, it was Sif's dad who cooked amazing Malanga Fritters with green peppers, the two of them had something of a whirlwind romance bonding over making enchanted things together (dad better at ritual work while mom could just boom! Make things off the cuff without thinking too hard about it) and... yeah. Just... Sif finding one living relative who never, ever expected to see any of his relatives again to boot (also Elder immediately being all 'introduce me to your family- Ah so just like your mother you favor big handsome men! Oh and your little one Bonnie is precious!' the second he gets over the weepy 'I cannot believe it' awkwardness because dang it, Sif deserves to find some additional family on this otherwise incredibly heavy trip)

The exploration into the space warped and Sadness filled Island Capital eventially leads to a lot of weird/heavy revelations about the Island for Sif:

Sif on his dad's side is basically the heir to one of THE big families of the Island (they don't like royalty but the Asterion and Chara families were arguably that in all but name).

His dad was very concerned about the heir of Chara because they were never really seen in public despite the Chara family living in/basically owning the Capital.

There was a genuine fear of the Monsters returning and waging war for the sins committed against their ancestors and a union between the Asterion and Chara families was seen by many as 'Universe ordained' protection against this (Cue Sif having a lot of 'trying not to wonder if my country practiced arranged marriage' squick and really appreciating their parents' choice to keep them well away from the Capital/the really religious types here...)

The Chara family was apparently in charge of protecting and aiding any Monsters found outside Mt Ebott (of which there were actually quite a few!) but according to the official paperwork all of them requested to join the rest of the Monsters under Mt Ebott? (All monsters helping the party point blank state that no one, monster or human, entered the Underground from the Surface before Chara fell)

...Notes on how Monster dust is raw Wish Craft in physical form in the Chara house...

Notes in the Chara house on how the Chara heir wasn't particularly liked, to the point they weren't being given a personal name until they did something to earn it.

Horror lab eventually found in the Chara house. Lots of dusty cages, notes on how people injected with monster dust react to it, etc.

Chara's room. Bare and empty aside from a few potted golden flower plants, a few letters and pictures stuck up on the wall (cue Sif doing a double take recognising their childhood name on some of them -Chara was that penpal of theirs that never responded?), and a few loose floor boards which underneath have scribbled escape plans, very expired food rations, carefully drawn and folded pictures of non human figures crying in cages, and bandages.

--- And... yeah. That last part is very much the 'Chara plotline' stuff kicking in hard but trying to think of little puzzle pieces for Sif and Co to find and slowly piece together into a big old ball of 'Wow, I DO understand why this otherwise very nice and did not deserve this country got accidentally ERASED by this kid actually' hints so um yeah.

Hope you like all the world building/stuff before it gets all 'period horror/drama' at the end there and do feel free to use any of this/give feedback as well. I've spent too long typing this out, my brain is pudding and I'm done on this thinky think train for now XD

#isat #in stars and time #undertale #ut #undertale spoilers #isat spoilers #fais fanfic rambles #post game #fusion fic #writing stuff about the island #fanfiction #worldbuilding #having too much fun with the 'what else did everyone forget' thing #islander euphrasia theory brought up in universe (and set aside because yikes that's heavy given the circumstances) #Siffrin is not having a great time (learning a lot though) #Lotta horror aaaa stuff in the last part for Chara backstory #cw suicide mention #...I need stuff for the non Sif parts of the team to do. Outside of Sif I mean #Like Bonnie running off and uncovering 'kid secrets' with Frisk is easy #but still brain blank on the others mostly #eh got nothing for the undertale cast and loop either so later I guess #for now i sleep #oh apologies if bambooche is misspelt. forgot to look it up and too tired to edit it now so hopefully you all know what I'm on about anyway #cw car accident #cw mention of death #cw implied abuse

[thetinyshiloh]

Nine People You'd Like to Know Better

Tagged by @thana-topsy, thank you!!

3 Ships Yyra Denirien x Teldryn Sero (OC x Elder Scrolls) - If you're following me and you don't know this... you must scroll tumblr with your eyes closed or something lmao. They are INCESSANTLY in my head 24/7/365. They are both so broken but trying their best and the most important aspect is that (in my canon story) their friendship happens FIRST and is MOST important before anything else occurs between them. I know all the smut I draw says otherwise, but I draw the smut because my main story is so slow-burn hahahaha. FemShep x Garrus Vakarian (Mass Effect) - I went hard for this one... it's almost like there's something about red-headed strong-willed women with snarky, non-human mercenaries with distinctive voices that just does it for me... Jude x Cardan (The Folk of the Air series) - Despite the fact these are "young adult" books, holy shit did they do something for me. Also 100000% better than any published erotica I've ever read AND a fantastic example of enemies-to-lovers. Anyways, I finished the main trilogy recently and these two have been rotating on a smaller platform in the background while Yyra and Teldryn continue to rotate in the foreground lol. I HAVE TO ADD ONE MORE, SORRY, I'M BREAKING RULES BUT NIKAIDO x KAIMAN (DOROHEDORO) HAS TO BE INCLUDED TOO, I am obsessed

First Ship I have such a hard time remembering stuff from my early life, but technically the first pairing of people that I fixated on (though this would be way before "shipping" was a thing I knew about) was Aerith x Sephiroth (despite how that canonically goes lol, but i guess i've always loved saying fuck canon).

Last Song "Magia" by Kalafina - Despite almost never watching anime, I binged Puella Magi Madoka Magica in one day (it's only 12 episodes) and holy cow that fucking show what the fuck. Anyways, the end credit song rocks and this is it.

Currently Reading Inside of a Dog by Alexandra Horowitz Attack of the 50 Foot Blockchain by David Gerard I recommend both of these so far, but I'm also only partially through them because I always take a thousand years to read nonfiction.

Last Film Dearest Sister (2016) - It's weird if I'm not watching at least one horror film in the past week, but this was actually two weeks ago? I think I need to re-watch it, but I thought it was pretty good!

Currently Craving I was craving salted nori today but I do actually have some and so I had it a few hours ago. Right now I'm not really craving anything! I guess this question is more about creative works but as usual, I go with food haha.

I tag: @downontheupside @mishikaiya @ocheeva @dontiform @perilously @fliinnie @orfeolookback @bendingsignpost @drowsy-fantasy

#realizing just now how my favorite pairing have been f/m where m is .... Other #like non-human at least #LOL OKAY INTERESTING #tag games

[jaggededges123]

i’ve only very minimally shaped this up for tumblr (replaced the names properly because there aren’t small character limits, capitalized sentences, etc), but it’s mostly just as is from twitter, so please don’t mind any minor errors. i hope you enjoy it! the whole ficlet is under the cut so it’s easy to skip if it’s not your bag <3

(oh, and i’ll probably shape this up even more and throw it on ao3 at some point but uh, who knows when that will be? not me!!)

niecest (though it can be read as nie bros, soulmates can be platonic!), soulmates, angst + canon major character death, hurt no comfort

AU where you see in black in white if 1) you’ve never met your soulmate or 2) your soulmate is dead, but if you know your soulmate and they’re alive, then you see in color.

Anyway, Nie Huaisang who’s never seen in black and white, and Nie Mingjue who suddenly got color vision in his parents’ bedroom when he was six years old, promptly freaked out at the change, and all of the adults in the room told him to keep it under wraps but also to always make sure to take the best care of his new didi he could manage.

As time goes on, the Nie brothers live freely in a colorful world that most of their peers can’t fully see yet, but then Nie-zongzhu dies and Nie Mingjue has to take over. He remembers what his parents told him but… sometimes there are compromises that have to be made. Nie Mingjue is the leader of the whole sect now, and he’s responsible for all of them, not just Nie Huaisang. They drift apart… and for a while, Nie Mingjue is content to just let his didi do whatever he wants, painting and birds and fans. frivolous things.

But… taking care of people doesn’t just mean letting them do whatever they want all the time, and Nie Mingjue can use his connections to the Lan sect heir to secure Nie Huaisang a spot at the Cloud Recesses to be tutored by Lan Qiren. So off Nie Huaisang goes.

And the thing is, when you try to do something to help someone, and they don’t take it seriously, it can be really frustrating. Even more so if it’s your soulmate and you really, really feel like they should be able to understand you on a fundamental level.

So… Nie Mingjue doesn’t take it very well when Nie Huaisang fails, is what I’m saying. Their relationship gets strained, even if Nie Mingjue is still trying to be a good brother, sect leader, soulmate. He’s just got way too much on his plate, and he doesn’t know which parts are most important.

And maybe because Nie Huaisang was born into it and has never known anything else, he takes for granted what they’re supposed to have. Maybe he doesn’t even know who his soulmate is.

Has anyone even given Nie Huaisang a lecture on this that he would understand, already seeing in color?

The war happens, and Nie Mingjue takes great comfort in his crystal clear color vision the entire time. He made a good choice, sending Nie Huaisang away from danger.

Nie Huaisang’s not good enough with a saber to be of use where Nie Mingjue is, anyway.

Anyway, after the war… it’s not the same all over again. Nie Mingjue is angrier, again, and he can feel himself dying even though he doesn’t want to believe it. It’s really only a matter of time before he qi deviates so badly that he’s gone permanently.

And of course he’s worried—soon he won’t be around to protect Nie Huaisang, at all.

Their relationship gets worse—in a fit of rage, desperation, and fear, Nie Mingjue burns all of the trinkets he’d encouraged earlier in life. Those things won’t help Nie Huaisang now. They won’t protect him from anyone who might harm him.

Nie Huaisang doesn’t speak to him, for nearly two months.

It breaks Nie Mingjue’s heart.

And then, the last thing he ever sees is Nie Huaisang’s injured arm, fear and horror on his face, calling out to Nie Mingjue that it’s okay, that Nie Huaisang’s there, and behind him the man Nie Mingjue had taken under his wing and now feared what he might do to his soulmate, his family, left behind without Nie Mingjue’s protection.

The moment Nie Mingjue slumps in Nie Huaisang’s arms is the first time he’s ever seen in black and white. He never really knew what it meant, that people who met their soulmate saw things differently.

He does now, because he’s lost his.

#niecest #or nie bros it's up to you but i'm not tagging that one lest i attract people i don't want to #mdzs/cql #i'm doing very minimal tagging but please do feel free to reblog and inflict the pain on others if you so wish <3 #cw mcd

[roosterbox]

October Almost-Drabbles 10/13: Maze

Pairing: Steddie, implied Eddie x Chrissy (for like a SINGLE line)

Word Count: 1,027. God fucking dang it.

Additional tags: modern AU, single dads, implied meet-cute, Max is a lil shit and also Eddie’s daughter, Dustin is a sweetheart and also Steve’s son, Max’s POV

Side note: I TRIED TO KEEP IT SHORT. I SWEAR I TRIED. But as you can see, I failed, so this one goes under a cut, lol. The maze aspect was just a jumping off point, so I’m sorry it doesn’t play more of a part. Most of these prompts are of a similar nature for me - inspiration, though I may go off the rails a bit in the actual execution.

Anyway, enjoy!

———

“Our dads are gross.”

Max looked back at the two men trailing behind her and Dustin. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could see their expressions just fine, thank you very much. Her dad, always animated with his hands, was talking and gesturing wildly. She could see the flash of sunlight against his rings. Dustin’s dad seemed to be listening intently, smiling. And blushing. Every now and then he’d interject, probably asking a question about the story. They were both making absolutely ridiculous goo-goo eyes at each other. Ugh, disgusting. She made a gagging noise and looked away.

“Super gross,” Dustin agreed. The path split a few yards ahead, and the kids decided silently as a unit to continue together down the left side.

“Don’t get too far ahead, Dust.” The boy’s dad called out. They were following at a respectable distance; close enough to keep an eye out, but far enough to give the kids some measure of independence. Dustin slowed down a little, giving a thumbs up. His dad visibly relaxed. Max saw her dad give the other man a comforting arm squeeze. In a touch that, in her opinion, lingered a bit too long.

She scowled. “D’you think we could lose them? In the maze?”

“We shouldn't.” Dustin looked nervous. “My dad gets really worried about stuff like that. This one time, my friend Mike and I got separated from him at the mall, and he totally freaked out.” He shuddered. “Never seen my dad cry before that.”

Max shrugged. “My dad cries all the time. Shoulda seen him at the last Disney movie we watched. He cried more than me. I didn’t even cry when I got this!” She waved her arm, in a cast from wrist nearly to elbow. “But before that, before he found you, was it fun? Hanging out without him?”

“I guess,” the boy was looking at his shoes. “But I don’t think it was worth it.” He glanced back at his dad again. “He seems happy.”

The two men walked comfortably side by side. Their arms were brushing as they moved, and if Max knew anything about her dad, he was actively fighting the urge to take his new friend’s hand. Just then, to her horror, he did. The other guy looked surprised, but then… he grinned. And now it was her own dad’s turn to blush.

“Gross!” She called out.

Her dad waved her off. “Don’t mind her, Steve. Ten years old and already a little adult. I’m going gray before my time.”

Dustin’s dad laughed. “You look fine to me.”

At that, her dad raised an eyebrow. “Oh, ‘fine’ is it now?” He leaned a little closer. There was a very particular gleam in his eye. One Max recognized at a distance, though she might not have known exactly what it entailed. Whatever it was, it was probably more Disgusting Adult Stuff. If they actually kissed, she was going to puke.

Luckily, somebody must have been looking out for her, because as they rounded the next bend…”

“We’re out!” Dustin cheered, making a break for the entrance/exit of the maze. Max ran after him, missing her dad’s quietly disappointed “damnit.” The adults still walked out hand in hand though.

“Did you have a good time?” Dad asked her later, while they were getting settled in the car.

She shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.” He snorted.

“A ringing endorsement.”

Her eyebrow raised in a perfect imitation of him. “What about you? Have fun slobbering all over Dustin’s dad?”

He chose that moment to start the car. “What? Sorry, can’t hear you!” He yelled over the sputter and roar of the engine. One of these days the whole damn thing was gonna fall apart. That’s what Grandpa Wayne said whenever he took rides with them.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. They pulled out of the maze parking lot, and began the long drive back to Hawkins. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up.

“Say, Max… how would you feel about me inviting your new friend over for lunch sometime? Might be fun.”

“Yeah, or you could just ask his dad out on a date or whatever. Dunno why you’re using us kids as an excuse.” She saw him stiffen a bit out of the corner of her eye, but kept her gaze out the window, watching familiar passing scenery.

“What? Me and Steve? A date? Nah, come on.” He tried to play it off, but his face was too pink for her to really believe him.

“Did you at least get his number? Because I remember when you and Chrissy broke up-“

“Hey now-“

“-and that was a freaking nightmare. A solid month of nothing but gross pining.”

He gasped, indignant. “I don’t pine!”

She gave him a flat look.

“It wasn’t that bad!”

Her expression didn’t change. He sighed, resigned.

“Okay, fine, it was bad. But I can’t help it, Max - I’ve always been this way. Big feelings, you know?”

“Oh I know. ‘S why Papa tells me he’s glad I got my mom’s temperament. ‘More than two of you’d be sending me to an early grave, and not a moment too soon.’” That last bit was said in a gruff imitation of Wayne’s voice. Her impression improved every time she did it, and never failed to make her dad laugh.

“Point taken, you little menace. And to answer your question: yes. I did, in fact, get Steve’s number.”

“Gross. I bet you gave him a super cute, disgusting nickname in your contacts too.”

He coughed and focused back on the road ahead. Max smirked. Bullseye.

“Just promise me one thing? Don’t call him as soon as we get home? It was embarrassing enough to watch you guys flirt back there. At least wait until I’m asleep. Or at the skate park. Or anywhere that’s not at the trailer.”

“Deal. Easy. I’ll bet you like ten bucks I won’t even think of calling him until tomorrow!”

And Max immediately agreed, knowing that she’d be ten dollars richer by the end of the day.

He barely held out for an hour.

———

(The nickname was “Pretty Boy,” by the way. In a few months, it’ll get changed to “Sweetheart.” It was “Babylove” for like a day. But then Max borrowed his phone, saw it, and demanded he change it because GROSS, DAD.)

#october drabbles #Steddie #single dads #they literally ran into each other in a corn maze #the kids are their literal kids #who are the kids’ other bio parents? #use your imagination #it’s not important #lol #adults being lovey dovey with each other #gross right?

[crmsnmth]

Update/Note 4/25/2024

Hey, how goes it? So, September Sky is getting close to where I'm at in the editing process, so soon enough it will slow down on how often parts are being uploaded. Don't worry, I started posting it here, and I'll finish off the story here. Second, I've slowed down a bit on my attempts at poetry. This is just because well, life is life, and there's quite a bit to do this time of year. With work, my youngest brother graduating, and trying to find a place I can call my own (that won't push me back into being completely broke again), I just don't really have the energy. The writing hasn't stopped, because anyone that sees my thumbprints knows that this isn't just writing for attention and that my fingers on the keys, or wrapped around a pen, is a type of medicine for me that keeps me stable and able to face my emotions. There's still hundreds of notes in my doc app, and there's notebooks being chiseled in every single day. It's the idea of fixing them and rearranging lines and breaks that takes a lot of energy. Don't worry, there's an infinite supply always on its way. I couldn't stop if I tried. And finally, I'm going to be starting to add yet another fictional story I've been working on for going on three years, and I think I'm ready for it to start being seen by others. it's on its eighth draft, and if I don't start sharing it, it'll end up with 100 drafts, and as obsessively as I write, that's past the point of making it better and into making something mechanical. It's horror/dark romance, which probably shouldn't surprise anyone who enjoys or reads my work. Right now, it's under the working title "The Horror of Our Love" (which will be changed once I actually think of something better) which is actually the title of a Ludo song that is amazing, and one of those songs that means the world to me, mainly from where I first heard it, and who had posted it to an old Facebook wall. The whole inspiration for the story came from that song and being unreasonably angry at the Twilight series completely destroying and making fun of the vampire mythos. So, think Twilight, with more blood, gore, violence, and anger. Twilight for horror purists and a much more mature audience. Maybe if Edward had ripped out someone's throat, it'd would been more of my kind of story. (And if you happen to like the Twilight books, I'm not interested in changing your opinion of the series. Love what you love. Especially when it comes to art, music, and the written word. You're allowed to like and love whatever it is you find, and don't let anyone ever take that away from you. I still read the Animorphs series every so often. And I fucking love it. And Goosebumps too. And if you don't like Goosebumps, what the hell are you doing with your life?) If none of this stuff interests you in anyway, and your own here because it's fun to watch a train wreck of a human being crash and see inside the head of a delusional and depressed functioning adult, that's cool too. Hope you're getting you're psych research done. Just include my name in the footnotes please. I deserve some credit for being batshit insane, right? I think that's it for now. Have a good one. -Chris (crmsnmth)

#update #words words words #my writing #writing #spilled words #some news #punk rock soap operas #punkrocksoapoperas #hello #creative writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #poets and writers

[xeymol]

Woah new pinned post jumpscare.

Hello I’m pie, you can call me whatever you want tbh. pie, xey, xeymol, weird void cup, whatever as long as it’s not mean i don’t care lmao

(Used to be known as SoggyMuppet)

Some important information about me:

- i am EXTREMELY nervous and shy so I apologize if I tend to be awkward with any interactions with anyone

- I may be shy but I don’t mind getting asks, I actually kinda love getting them wither it be answering actual questions or getting doodle requests

- I absolutely love and adore making gifts for people especially if I consider them a friend so gifts for others should be a fairly common sight

- I tend to go for long periods of time without posting, it’s not because I feel I need a break or because I have artblock (may possibly be the case at some point actually) but it happens because I just have a genuinely hard time getting my ideas on paper

- if you ever want to send an ask but your Nervous or I seem scary please know I’m quite harmless and I don’t mind getting asks, it may take me awhile to respond but do know It’s nothing against you and I either just haven’t checked my notifications yet or I’m just taking awhile to type my answer (possibly also drawing something to go with it)

- I am extremely apologetic so I apologize if that gets annoying, I’m just a strong overthinker and I get overwhelmed by it easily which leads to me apologizing a lot for very small thingys

- unreasonably anxious and overly sensitive, if your going to be rude to me please at least be straight up, I can’t tell if or when someone is being jokingly mean and that causes me to overthink and become stressed

- I am very forgetful, some things leave my head instantly so I need to be reminded of things multiple times

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Random Info:

- my persona is some sort of Eldritch creature made of void with a cup for their head, their name is granola

- I absolutely ADORE birds, I can’t draw them for shit but I love seeing pictures of them

- I am not funny. my humor is absolutely horrible, I try to stay family friendly on here but an adult joke might slip sometimes, though I do cuss a lot so I guess I’m not very family friendly💀

- I genuinely do not make sense half the time and when I do it’s either weird or concerning, I’ll say shit like “holy shit Freddy fazbear in portal 2 real not clickbait?!?!?!?!“ or “will skin you alive then boogie on your corpse” and other strange shit, I have something wrong with me✨

- I have horrible grammar and spelling, autocorrect loves to fuck me over so I’m sorry if a sentence ever comes out wrong on accident

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

My main interests right now are:

- space

- horror/body horror

- making strange critters

- a few of my personal projects

- don’t starve/don’t starve together

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

I usually make fanart for whatever fandom I’m in at the moment but there’s a rare chance I may share if stuff and or original story’s I’m working on, most of what I post is doodles but there is a rare case of fully rendered art. I might post kinda gorey or body horror and genuinely just spooky art one day and if I do I’ll definitely put a warning and try my best to tag it properly, I enjoy making sorta cutesy silly shitposts most the time and I tend to get sorta extreme with my facial expressions lol. I’ve been drawing for technically all my life really, I’m not the best but I’m very devoted to art and designing characters and story’s, my art tends to have heavy shading and overall a sort of dark atmosphere and that’s just due to my immense love for horror and spooky vibes

___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Anyways that’s all I have for now, I’ll add to this if I ever have anything more I feel I should add

Goodbye for now, hope you have a lovely day/evening/night💕

___________________________________________________________________________________________________Commission status: currently open🔥

#pinned post

[not---meat]

Paradise: Chapter 4: The Sun Must Set To Rise

Pairing: Javier Peña x McKenzie Martel

Rating: A - Adult

Warnings: Angst.

Summary: McKenzie thinks of the past.

Note: This is an AU set in between season 2 and season 3 of Narcos sometime in the 90's. I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies!

MASTERLIST --- PARADISE MASTERLIST

It had been gloomy all day. Here and there it would rain but it wasn't anything too serious, not that Kenzi minded. It was a nice break from the heat and she particularly loved the smell. On days that it rained Kenzi would often open her window up just a crack so the smell would pour into her room and wrap around her like a warm cocoon. It helped her think. It made her calm and boy did she need something to keep her calm.

The brunch she had shared earlier in the day with Javier had left her all sorts of confused. She wasn't sure how to feel about their conversation. She wasn't sure about how to feel about him wanting to spend more time with her. Kenzi had gotten so used to being without him. Now that he was finally back in her life she didn't know what to do. There was always going to be a space for him, a void in her life that only he could fill, but it still felt strange.

As she stewed in those thoughts and feelings, Kenzi laid back on her bed, hands rested on her exposed stomach, legs dangling off the side of the bed. She stared at the ceiling, images of the past rolling through her mind.

The air had been sweet. It was warm but not too warm. She supposed thats why Lorraine had picked the day that she did, knowing that the weather was typically quite nice in this season. McKenzie wasn't about to complain. She was happy that she was able to be a part of the day.

Most women would do everything in their power to push away their partners female best friend. Jealousy about how well the friends knew each other more often than not at play as the couple grew closer. Kenzi had heard the horror stories of girls losing their best friend to their girlfriends. That had always been her biggest fear, losing Javier.

Perhaps that was why Kenzi pushed her own feelings aside. Perhaps thats why every time she saw him kissing her and that pang of pain hit her, she forced it down. She lived with it. Endured it. At the end of the day, McKenzie would be alright, after all. At the end of the day she was happier to have him in her life and she knew that a confession like that would only serve to push them apart.

That wasn't a chance McKenzie was willing to take.

It didn't take a brain surgeon to know that McKenzie was in love with Javier. His father had figured her out quite quickly. He had urged her to tell him before it was too late but McKenzie was afraid. Without Javier she was nothing.

So there she stood, fixing her hair because she knew that Lorraine hated it when it was so wild and she would 'ruin the pictures' if her hair wasn't Lorraines version of aesthetically pleasing. Kenzie wasn't fond of straightening her hair. Every time she did it would just get frizzy and slowly curl again as the day went by anyway.

But for Javier? Kenzi would do anything for him. Even if that meant dealing with her hair throughout the day so that he had his perfect day with his new bride.

She had her own room for the day. As much as Lorraine tolerated her, she was still distrustful of her. As if Kenzi would make a move on him on his wedding day. She wasn't crazy. Yet she still accepted the room gratefully. It was for the better at the end of the day. At least with her being in her private room Javier didn't have to see the tears in her eyes as she pulled on her dress.

Black. Because she had to match the tux that Javier was wearing. At least she was given the option of a dress, not that Kenzi would have fought wearing a tux. 'It wasn't ladylike' was all that Lorraine had to say.

Kenzi knew in her heart of hearts that Lorraine had tried to talk Javier into choosing someone else to be his best man. She could have pictured the conversation if she really wanted to. She didn't. She didn't want to think about Javier thinking of her as only his best friend.

It hurt to know that that was all he saw her as. All that he would ever see her as. Best friend. Cradle to grave.

When the time came, Kenzi went to her spot. She waited for her cues, she stayed silent, but she wondered where Javier was. It was his big day and she hadn't seen him once. Originally she had thought that he would have at least come by at one point to say hello, to get pictures taken, something.

But he never showed.

Perhaps he was late getting ready? Perhaps he had slept through his morning alarm and had a late start and was rushing to get to the church? The wedding couldn't start without him.

They all waited. Patient at first but anxieties grew the longer they waited. Kenzi sat in a chair in the little waiting area where the rest of the wedding party had gathered… well the rest of Javiers half of the wedding party had gathered. The other guys had been talking amongst each other, reassuring themselves that Javier was going to show.

Kenzi just sat there silently, staring at the wall ahead of her. Conflicted. Half of her wanted him to show. She wanted him to get the happily ever after that he deserved. The other half, though, the half that was fuelled by the little green demon that sat on her shoulder more often than not these days was hoping that he wouldn't.

The wedding was supposed to start twenty minutes earlier. Still no Javier. It wasn't until they hit the half an hour mark that reality started to set in for the people in the room. He wasn't coming.

It became even more real when the bride burst into the room ten minutes later. Forty minutes after the wedding was set to start, tears and mascara running down her face. She looked heartbroken and angry, her glare casted at Kenzi as if she had known that he wouldn't show this whole time.

Of course Kenzi had no idea. The accusations that were thrown at her served nothing but to lighten the load on Lorraines chest as she realized that the love of her life had walked away. Left at the alter, unable to even make it down the aisle.

Kenzi didn't wait around the venue. The bride and the brides family had both made a point that she was the one to blame even though Kenzi had no idea where Javier had gone. She went to the Peña ranch, using her key to walk into the house even though nobody was home. Everything seemed in order so obviously he hadn't been murdered or kidnapped.

Even his room looked in order at first as Kenzie walked through it, sitting down on his bed. It was confusing. Where had he gone? Where had he run off to? What was more important than the biggest day of his life?

Only the important things had been taken. The bag that normally rested against his desk was gone. Books that Kenzi knew were his favourite missing. It made sense. The things that he cared for the most had been taken and the rest left behind. He had run away but where did her go and most importantly… why didn't he tell her?

A last thought. Not even a goodbye or a note. Nothing. The only hint that he had thought of her was the empty spot on his corkboard where the friendship bracelet she had made for him when they were kids used to hang.

It felt wrong, so wrong, but secretly in the back of her mind Kenzi was relieved. At least this way she didn't have to watch the man she loved get married to another. At least this way she didn't have to hide the heartbreak that she felt. At least this way there was a chance that when he came back that he might have finally seen her. Maybe this was his fucked up way of sending her a message.

Hopeful thinking. Wishful thinking. Kenzi sat in his room for a while, arms wrapped around herself, lost in thought.

It was Chucho who found her, of course. He had been looking for her at the venue and when he realized she was no longer there it didn't take him long to figure out where she was. Chucho knew her well. He had watched her grow into the adult woman she was.

"He's gone." Was all she could say, an emptiness in her heart, a vacancy in her tone.

All Chucho did was nod. He sat beside her on Javiers bed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into his side so he could comfort her. The person who typically comforted her was gone, after all. Missing.

"It will be okay, mi niña, he will be back." Chucho spoke, however Kenzi could feel the doubt sinking through his tone.

It was then that her tears finally fell. Sure it wasn't her wedding day. Sure, she had no right feeling as heartbroken as she did. At the end of the day, though, Javier was still her best friend. The fact that he could leave the way he did without as much as a goodbye?

In that moment, sitting there on his bed in the Pena ranch, Kenzi worried that she may never see him again. That the last time she saw him was truly the last time. She couldn't remember what he had said to her last but she could remember his smile as they said goodbye for the night.

Tears rolled down Kenzi's face. The memories of that day still haunted her to her core. The hateful words thrown her way still rattled her. It had been ten years and yet the heartbreak she felt still would creep into her when she was least expecting it. It had numbed her for a while, eventually muting itsself as she went through her life just as normal. Relationships came and went, friends came and went. Nobody replaced Javier. Nobody ever lived up to him. Kenzi had accepted that. Kenzi had learned to live with that hole in her life.

A knock came on her door, pulling Kenzi out of her past and into the present. She sat up, wiping her eyes, and cleared her throat.

"Yeah?" She called out, knowing it was likely her roommate. She was right.

"Hey." He spoke, opening her bedroom door and peering in, "I got some snow if you want to come?"

"Yeah." Kenzi nodded, "Yeah. I'll come. Give me five."

#fanfic #fanfiction #pedro pascal #narcos fanfiction #original character #pedro is daddy #narcos #javier pena x oc #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena narcos

[backdrifter]

2022/23/24, 29/30/31

The transition from 2022 to 2023, the decade of my 20s to the decade of my 30s, unmarried to married life, being a student to being a working professional, has all come together. So this is a reflection less on a birthday and more on a period of months - maybe years - which honestly is how transitions work anyway isn’t it - these things don’t happen in a day (this also wasn’t written in a day. Also it’s late now but whatever)

I actually started writing this before 2023 started - then worked on it more in summer - and now have remembered it at the end of the year but it all still applies

The biggest feeling is the breaking of a sort of stasis, of waiting for the rest of my life to happen. The last few years have been a holding pattern, feeling like things couldn’t be done and decisions couldn’t be made because there were things that weren’t there yet. Patience wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity - so I won’t be proud of myself for the accomplishment of simply holding on - but I am constantly filled with relief, giddiness, gratefulness. The years were long enough that I won’t be taking these newfound freedoms for granted for a long long time.

So much of this is rooted in having put the wedding(s) behind us now, having “emerged” now with the two of us as a legitimized entity, and having done the whole celebratory tour to affirm it. That in itself could be enough without career and age getting into it. I can and will take some pride there. I know what it took. It’s the end of a half-life, and the start of not just “the next phase” but of what I consider to be real life in many ways. It’s everything I wanted and more

On a side note in my head I see age 25 as when I was mentally, emotionally ready to be married. A part of my mindset became “husband” then, which is a weird thing to say but it did influence how I interacted and positioned and presented myself. It’s probably easier to examine in hindsight. I think I will look at age 29 the same way in a part of my mindset becoming geared to “fatherhood”. I’m not financially there, or in any other way realistically, but I know this next few years is when it’ll happen and I find myself looking forward to it now, not having any wide-eyed horror when asked about it. And every now and then I’ll catch myself making a decision and thinking “well this is what I’d want to do/say/act if I was a dad”

On that note, I know this next decade is about family in so many ways. In chasing other things these relationships have been a neglect in my 20s. Now I’m so thankful to say my relationship with my parents has never been better. My relationship with my brother has been interestingly redeveloped as one between two adults. That’s thrilling. My family also now includes my wife. And her parents and grandparents, that’s mine too. There will be a lot to cherish and enjoy and build on there. The last point will add to this too I suppose. I will not take this for granted. In no other realm am I more aware of how limited time is

It also includes the family that is chosen. Never before have I been so grateful for my friends. I’m trying to make sure they all know it. I think other people are trying too. It’s quite something to know not just how much someone means to you, but what you mean to them as well. I’ve personally struggled over the years with making sure my friendships are meaningful and not just surface-level. I didn’t even realize I was struggling with it for a while, but as we’ve grown up we have more in common than just shared interests, it’s also the weight of shared years, and a support that comes from having had and built support. In a few cases, it seems like things are crumbling under that weight and that’s an incredibly difficult thing to deal with, but they tell me it’s a normal part of adult friendship. The other parts at least are enjoyable, and comforting, and so so valuable.

When it comes to career, academics, this is where I have perhaps denied myself or been denied some catharsis, some sense of accomplishment. When I got my undergraduate degree I was happy, but I joked about the degree not meaning much because I knew I wasn’t “done” yet. It felt like a stepping stone. Never did end up framing that degree or putting it anywhere. When I graduated from chiropractic it didn’t feel like an ending because of a postponed convocation, delayed licensing, and I knew I was going right into another 2-year grad program. There was a bitterness. When I finished the residency program last year, it still didn’t feel like an ending because I’m still haven’t published my thesis. No catharsis. But having been working for about three years now, I’ve found I can take pride in some of the ways I’ve been able to help people.I guess what I’m trying to say is I spent most of my 20s in school and I had a lot of cynicism about the pieces of paper I got out of it but it’s gotten me into a profession that I genuinely enjoy and what I’m able to do with that, that’s the accomplishment

It’s a bittersweet thing that I am standing at the cusp of this next period, ready to finally live life going in a direction that I want it to, and a direction I can (somewhat) control… and it’s also at the cusp of what feels like the end of the world as we knew it and as we predicted it to be. I know that’s out of my control. I know these are larger scale movements that have been happening for decades now. But it’s impossible to separate my future from the future of everything else isn’t it? How am I going to think about career growth and fatherhood and home ownership or whatever without thinking about how every summer for the rest of our lives is going to be marred with wildfire smoke and drought and general human suffering? Is that fair to do? Am I morally wrong to look forward to the future?

But that also fits into a last consideration which is my relationship with God and how that’s become more of a priority over the last 2 years or so. It’s grounding. I am trying to become more conscious about working on it, as I am about everything above here. The things I build from here on aren’t just about building in this world, they’re building something in the next. This world is indeed temporary. If/when everything collapses, there will still be afterlife and generations beyond us. That’s what it’s about - it will be about the account I give of myself to the Creator, and the account I give to my offspring. It helps to remove ego from the equation(s)

So that’s it - there isn’t really an ending to this ramble, because there isn’t really an ending to any of this. It’s all a work in progress. 2023 ending doesn’t really seem like it’s a celebration. Jan 2 will be a workday just like Dec 30 was. The world doesn’t feel like it’s worth celebrating. But I lay this down as a marker, so I can look back and see where my mind was and how far I’ve come in it one day

#personal

[circusgoth-dotcom]

Hooky/First Kiss

Ship: Jack Torrance x Keaton Diamond (Childhood Friends AU)

Word Count: 1054

Summary: Keaton & Jack are around 15 in this story. When Keaton isn't seen at school, Jack skips part of school to check up on him. As a result, he gets his first kiss. Attempted to use some fun fifties slang since that would be when Jack was a teenager if we put the events of The Shining in 1980. CWs for mentions of abusive parents, Jack (kind of) breaking into Keaton's house (granted, he was given a key), and self-image issues.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife @rexscanonwife

When Jack didn’t see Keaton at school that day, he knew he had the perfect excuse to play hooky. Yeah, maybe his best friend was just sick, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant to go through the school day without him, either. At lunch, he slipped past the uncaring school secretary and began walking through the autumn-coloured neighbourhood and out to Keaton Diamond’s house. Jack and Keaton had been close friends ever since Keaton’s family had moved him out to Garden City, Long Island, and ever since the two confided in each other about their oppressive home lives.

Jack had to deal with his both verbally and physically aggressive father and his devoutly Catholic mother, while Keaton dealt with an emotionally unavailable father and a physically unavailable mother, along with the incessant calling from his overbearing grandparents… needless to say, confiding in each other was quite cathartic and came easily.

Rounding the corner, Jack scrambled over his neighbours’ fences until he ended up in Keaton’s backyard, gold and red leaves crunching beneath his worn boots as he approached the window that would open into Keaton’s bedroom. He knocked on the glass first in an attempt to be polite, but when the blackout curtains didn’t shift, he dug around in his coat pocket until he retrieved the key Keaton had snuck him so that they might be able to see each other without any adults noticing. Glancing over his shoulder, Jack unlocked Keaton’s window and pulled it open as quietly as physically possible before launching himself over the sill and struggling past the thick curtains. The room was completely dark, but Jack could hear Keaton scrambling to sit up in his bed.

The bedside lamp flicked on. “Jack! You can’t be here right now!” Keaton hissed. Jack looked toward him, still halfway through the window, but he was hiding beneath his sheet.

“Whaddya mean I can’t be here, Keats, your dad isn’t home, is he?” Jack asked, beginning to swing his legs into the room.

“You can’t be here because you’re supposed to be in school-- for Christ’s sake, at least take your boots off, I don’t need my dad asking about mud on the carpet…!”

Jack took off his boots and dropped them outside the window before planting his grey socks on the carpeted floor. “Fine, fine. Seeing you was more important than listening to Mr. Inbody drone on about algebra… so what’re you doing in bed, anyway, you don’t sound sick to me.”

Keaton’s form folded his arms subconsciously under his sheet. “I-it’s something you wouldn’t understand…”

Jack scoffed. “Oh yeah? Try me, Diamond.” He leaned over the baseboard of Keaton’s bed and snatched at the sheet, making Keaton bury himself further under his blankets.

“Jack, no! You can’t look at me…”

“Why not?” Still leaning over the baseboard, Jack looked around Keaton’s room. He had been there before, of course, but he always liked it much better than his own. At least Keaton got to have posters from his favourite sci-fi and horror flicks. The walls were painted a soothing navy blue while the carpet was an unoffensive cream colour. A cluttered desk sat in the corner opposite to the bed, where the duvet was a white background patterned with varying shades of blue birds.

“I’m all… broke-out…” Keaton murmured against his blankets.

“Broke-out??”

“Y’know. Red and spotty.”

Jack slowly wandered to the side of the bed and finally sunk down onto the mattress. “Why do you care that your face is red and spotty??”

“I told you you wouldn’t understand, it’s absolutely bogus! I scrubbed my face with soap and water until it bled and I think it just made it worse…”

Jack’s brow furrowed at this. “Keaton…” He felt around on top of the blankets in search of his friend’s hand, making him squirm and squeak when he accidentally grabbed at his side- “Sorry, sorry!” -before finally squeezing Keaton’s hand. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“It’s disgusting! And it hurts like a bitch on my nose…”

“Didn’t your daddy tell you anything about not having a dirty mouth, you little shit?” Jack grinned as Keaton feebly laughed. “C’mon, I wanna see that smile… spots and all.”

Slowly, Keaton’s dark hair appeared at the top of the sheets, followed by his forehead and bespectacled eyes.

“Well, it’s not looking too shabby so far,” Jack observed, playfully ruffling his hair.

“Oh, trust me, it gets worse…” The sheet slipped down to reveal his nose and cheeks, inflamed, shining, and pimply, followed by his lips and chin. He squeezed his eyes shut as he sat up, drawing his knees to his chest. “I feel like the surface of Mars.”

“Oh, Keaton… can I…?” Jack raised his hand, letting it hover over his cheek. Keaton opened one of his eyes to see what he was doing and hesitantly nodded. Willingly, Jack placed his hand on Keaton’s cheek. “I don’t think you’re disgusting.”

Keaton shuddered slightly, still with his eyes closed. “You don’t?”

“‘Course not. When have I ever cared about appearances?”

Keaton opened his eyes, glancing down at Jack’s outfit. “You can say that again.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m trying to make you feel better, could you do less ragging on my sense of fashion?”

“I don’t know, I think that is making me feel better,” Keaton hid his smile behind his hand. “No, no, I quite like the way you dress, actually… flannel looks real bad on you.”

Jack grinned. “Thanks.” He stroked Keaton’s cheek with his thumb, unbothered by the slick yet bumpy feeling of his skin. He cleared his throat as he admired Keaton, he was cute whether he was sporting clear skin or the worst acne flare-up of the year. “Would it be wrong for me to want to kiss you? Right now?”

Now Keaton’s face was flushed for a different reason. He bat his eyelashes. “I…” He found his hand trailing up Jack’s arm, past his neck, and up into his hair, almost of its own accord… “you… kiss me?”

“Yeah, caveman. I kiss you. Because you big cute. And Jack big handsome, so, only suitable, yeah?”

“Oh my God.”

And suddenly they were leaning in and kissing deeply, sweetly, eyes closed, hands on each other's bodies, and an autumn breeze flicking the curtains behind Jack’s back…

#self shipping #self shipping community #self insert #self insert oc #self insert x canon #self x canon #self insert oc x canon #oc x canon #the shining #jack torrance #circus scripts #🪓Darling - Light of My Life🪓 #🌳🥃.s/i [Childhood Friends AU]

[dreambones]

hi! i’m working on a game with two of my friends and i was wondering if you’ve got any tips/suggestions for what you use for music and backgrounds? any advice would be appreciated 😊😊😊

Hello! And sure, most of this is things I’ve had to learn on my own since for some reason I barely got any audio stuff in college.

I’m not sure if you mean what kind of background music to use for a game or where to find it so I’ll try to answer both.

Also funny you ask this because I just have a post queued for later about game design and stuff.

Long post ahead

For background music, I usually look for Royalty Free soundtracks over Youtube, a cool artist I recommend is WhiteBatAudio, there’s some incredible stuff but it’s mostly synthwave/90s/horror stuff.

My only precaution with finding music over youtube is make a google search after finding something to make sure it is not stolen.

Another good place to look for stuff is itch.io. Void1gaming has a lot of different free and paid music packs with very different styles, lofi, pop, scifi, etc.

For sound effects itch.io is a very good place to find them too, there is a mix of free and paid ones. But if you are looking for more specific sound effects I’d recommend freesound.org, which is a website full of sound effects. The only thing you have to pay attention to is the copyright of each sound, some got permission for paid projects, others only free, or you need to give credit. The other thing is that not all will have a good quality, so you’ll have to dig around a bit sometimes.

Now my general advices for background music is remember it’s there to help whatever is happening in your game, unless you have a music rhythm game, the music is not the protagonist. Tied to this is music can influence what you are showing, if you are showing an abandoned house you want the player o feel wary about, and the soundtrack is loud, happy, party music, it’s likely your player will be more confused than scared.

Also sometimes no music is just as good! It’s more clear in the update but taking JHN as example, the background is a kind of quiet street, and if you go to the garden you can hear the crickets, it is meant to be peaceful to accompany Jake actions. CHN on the other hand has loud party music, we got a group of young adults partying, eating pizza and drinking.

And with sound effects my recommendation is, and this will sound weird, look for sounds that work, not necessary the right sound. If you need sound of stepping on carpet, you might not find what you want because it’s much too quiet, but sounds of stepping on sand can work just the same. The classic example is breaking celery for the sound of breaking bones.

And I think lastly but not least, learn a sound editing software. I use Audacity which is free and for my basic abilities and knowledge, it gets the job done. I edit a lot of sounds to be for example shorter, fade them towards the end, or mix two together.

Again most of sound effects and background music I have learned mostly on my own and is far from my speciality, so if any other devs know more and want to add to this post, please feel free to do so!

Anyway I hope this helped and good luck to you and your friends with your game!

#indie game dev #game development #game music #game soundtrack #dream answers #anon #game stuff #ask box

[justastrugglinghotchocolate]

Hi hello, I was listening to Ib music and now i need to tell you about a dumb little Ib (the rpg horror game) au, that I won’t do much with but that I want to exist in the world outside of my brain. If things are incoherent, it’s cause I am caffeinated.

Spoilers for Ib (It’s 2022, if you haven’t heard of this game, do yourself a favor and watch a playthrough or read the wiki. This game was my childhood.)

Right off the bat, Dorian is Mary, so he doesn’t exist in the same world as Basil and Henry. Also this is for the Henry/Basil fandom. If you want Dasil, check any of my other works. Also everyone is an adult, ranging from their 20s.

Oke, it takes place in the Modern day and has the same premise as the original: Basil and Henry, who have known each other for years at this point, go to an art gallery, though in this case it’s to celebrate “something.” (Henry refuses to say what it is [he’s expecting Basil to confess, he’s right.]) Anyways, then Basil finds the Fabricated World painting and gets transported there.

The person he finds and partners with is not Henry, but, surprise!—it’s Sybil! (Because I think she’s a way cooler option, and they’re gonna be friends). So the AU would follow the same plot as the original game with some changes made to adhere to the new characters. Eventually they meet Dorian, believe he’s also trapped there and all three team up, until it becomes very clear that he is a painting, and yes, he has been trying to get Sybil killed so that he can escape with Basil.

Oke now I’m gonna talk about some endings:

Welcome to the World of Guertena: Sybil gets attacked by weird ass gallery dolls and has a mental break. Basil refuses to leave her behind, infuriating Dorian. Basil tells him off and, in retaliation, Dorian starts tearing off the petals on Basil’s rose. (If you don’t know, in the game, the characters’ lives are connected to the roses, any damage done to the flower hurts them.) Dorian injures Basil enough, that he can’t leave and decides that they’ll all stay in this world, together. Great for him, bad for the other two.

Forgotten Portrait: Sybil dies because of Dorian destroying her rose, Basil has to leave her behind and find Dorian’s painting. He sets the portrait alight, which kills Dorian. He manages to leave this world, returning to the gallery with no memory of what happened. He starts making his way back to Henry when he sees a portrait of Sybil ‘sleeping’. He starts crying, not knowing why, and Henry finds him, an inconsolable mess. He decides the confession can wait and guides Basil out of the gallery.

Together, Forever: Sybil dies, but Basil doesn’t have the lighter, so never burns the portrait. He returns to his world, doesn’t remember anything, and looks for Henry. He finds him with Dorian. As in the game, the world changes so that Dorian existence makes sense—he’s Basil’s roommate, has been for a while now. Basil’s memory in foggy and he finds a piece of candy in his pocket (Sybil had given it to him earlier), but then Dorian takes it from him and eats it, forever destroying any chance of his crime being discovered. He then insists on Basil returning home, cockblocking Henry, and drags Basil outside the gallery. It’s implied that Dorian has no inclination to share his new best friend.

Ib (Basil) All Alone: Having lost Sybil and burned Dorian, Basil wanders the now empty gallery and finds a bed. Realizing that he’s exhausted, he lays in it and reminisces of his last birthday. Henry had given him a stuffed toy as a joke, before revealing that he actually got him a finely made silk handkerchief. (Basil always carries it with him now) Throughout the memory, Basil feels himself slowly fall further and further asleep. Eventually in the memory (dream?), he slumps onto Henry, who tells him he can sleep if he’d like, though Basil feebly tells him that he needs to tell him something. He slips away and the exhibit now has a sleeping beauty.

Promise of Reunion: Sybil and Basil burn down the portrait, but the fire causes the glass of the portrait to shatter, cutting Sybil’s hand. Using the handkerchief Henry gave him, Basil helps bandage the world. They leave together, don’t remember where they were, yadda yadda. Basil eventually bumps into her and they talks about stuff, before he notices his handkerchief and then they remember. They promises to meet again, Sybil inviting him to a show and taking the handkerchief to wash it. Basil returns to Henry, who has no idea of the strange adventure his friend just experienced. Basil, now confident and knowing how easily everything could be lost, kisses him instead of verbally confessing. Henry is absolutely stunned (though very, very pleased) and then gets dragged by Basil to dinner, barely able to comprehend what’s happened. Basil and Sybil do meet again, the adventure in the fabricated world nothing but a secret between them.

Thank you so much for reading. I know that neither of these fandoms are particularly active and I’m currently shadowbanned, so if even one person took the time out of their day to read this, that means a lot to me :). I may do sone doodles of this, perhaps even a few ficlets, but nothing too substantial.

#the picture of dorian gray #ib #ib rpg game #long post #had to get it out of my head