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neymarsangel · 1 year

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Tissues - Neymar Jr x reader

Neymar Jr x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No: Heyyyy ❤️ can I request if u have time of course an imagine with neymar where the reader is sick and neymar wants to take care of her but she doesn't because she afraid she gonna get him sick . However neymar takes care of her but gets sick too so they're both sick sitting all day at home watching movies cuddling etc.💕💕

Warnings: Fluff, swearing

Word Count: 1.8K

—

Arguably one of the worst things anyone could wake up to was a sore throat and a pounding headache. You noticed everyone around you was slowly starting to fall ill, especially with the weather turning as cold as it was in Paris but you’d hoped you’d been lucky enough to avoid the sickness, clearly you were wrong. You woke up without Neymar by your side, he normally woke up earlier and had a quick session at the gym before you woke up, that way he got to spend more of the day with you rather than running off to work out when the pair of you were midway through something.

Groaning you reached over to pick up your glass of water which was currently sitting on your bedside table. A shiver shot down your spine as the liquid stabbed your throat. Setting it aside you threw yourself down onto the covers, your hands covering your face as the morning sun hurt your eyes. Everything was silent until the front door clicked open.

“y/n?” Neymar called your name. “Are you up yet?” He asked as he pushed the door to your shared bedroom open, his hopeful expression dying when he saw the look on your face. “What’s wrong?” He hurried over to you but you ushered him away.

“I’m ill so don’t get too close, otherwise you’ll end up with it and Kylian will kill me.”

“You think I care for what he has to say?” The Brazilian gave you a look as he moved to the window, opening it ever so slightly enough to give the room some airflow but not enough to make you worse than you already were. He placed his hand on your forehead, a sympathetic look on his face when he noticed how hot you were. “Oh, baby…” Pulling back he grabbed your glass before speaking. “I’ll be back, don’t move.”

“You think I can move?”

“Even when facing death you still have a way with words.” He mocked before heading to your kitchen. He grabbed some light snacks that he knew wouldn’t make you feel even worse than you did, a soothing tea, more water and plenty of medication.

Briskly, walking into the room with a light smile, placed everything down on the bedside table for you. “You need to sit up.” He leaned over and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you up gently so you could rest against the headboard.

“Ney please don’t -”

“Don’t what?” His brows furrowed. “Look after my girlfriend when she’s ill? You do the same for me when I’m ill or injured…”

“That’s differnt…”

“How is it?”

“I don’t have to play football weekly in front of millions.”

“Well if I get sick they can survive without me.” He grabbed the medication from the side before facing you again. “This will help with the headache and any pain.” He handed you the pill and water, watching as you tensed your body up at the shooting pain in your throat as you swallowed the liquid. “And this…” He handed you a spray bottle. “Will numb the throat pain, I can grab more things if you need them.”

“Thank you but I’ll live, it’s just a shitty cold.”

“They’re the worst though.” He gave you a light smile. “Make sure you keep drinking, I read that the more water you drink, the quicker the virus leaves your body.”

“I’ll try.” Giving him a faint smile you watched as he picked up the tv remote before handing it to you. He climbed onto the bed, laying on top of the duvet.

“What are you doing?”

“Watching TV with you?”

“But I’m ill.”

“I worked that one out a while ago.” He teased.

“Please Ney, you’ll get ill…”

“And? Won’t be that bad.”

You had no strength to argue with him, as much as you wanted to tell him that he needed to leave you to die alone in the bedroom you knew he’d never get up and just go so you accepted your fate and he accepted his.

The pair of you spent the day watching shitty movies and talking about the weirdest topics anyone could think of. It was the side you wished the world saw more of when it came to him. He was beyond kind and always looked out for others, even if it didn’t benefit him. Deep down he was one of the kindest people you’d ever met but it was a shame the world never saw him like that.

That night he came into your bedroom holding two bowls, both filled to the brim with soup. “I made it myself.” He smiled like a child on Christmas. “Not sure how good it’ll be but I did try.” You reached your hand out to cup his jaw, moving your thumb along his beard with a smile.

“Thank you.”

He leant over again, kissing your forehead lightly as he set the tray on the bed, making sure he didn’t spill anything. “Anything for you love.” He handed you a bowl but stopped you before you could even think to take a sip. “Take this, it’ll kick in when you sleep, hopefully then you’ll make it through the night without any disturbances. That’ll make you better faster.” He handed you the pill before tilting your chin up so you could swallow the rest with water. “Good girl.” He winked, earning himself an eye roll from you as he set the water aside. He grabbed his own bowl, this time crawling under the covers of your bed.

“Ney you’re going to get sick.”

“How many times have I told you that I don’t care?”

“Well, I do.”

“I know and for that I am thankful but when we sleep together and share a house together it is rather hard not to catch one another’s illnesses.”

“It can be avoided if you just left me in here…”

“And let your rotten corpse make the house smell? No thanks, I’d rather die with you.”

A small jolt of laughter fell from your lings, nearly taking your breath away with how sore you really were from the illness. “Thank you.” You looked up at him, inching closer to him.

“You never need to thank me.” The two of you spent the evening waffling about anything you could think to talk about, in parts you almost forgot you were ill and then the pain in your throat stabbed you slightly just as a reminder to yourself that you were in fact ill and no amount of laughter would change that.

“Ney?”

“Hmm?”

“What does the kitchen look like after you’ve been cooking in it?”

“Want me to be honest?” He asked as he started to eat.

“Obviously.”

“Looks like a bomb just went off.”

“Brilliant…”

—

“Okay so fuck, marry, kill but… it’s only the guys in the team.” You smiled up at him as you spoke, and the two of you decided to spark up a fuck, marry or kill debate whilst watching an episode of modern family. “Kyillan, Messi or Marqunihos…”

“Fuck… um…” He thought long and hard about his answer, anyone would think he was taking an exam to decide his future. “Okay… marry Messi… fuck Marqunihos… and kill Kyllian.”

“Killing off Kyllian with no mercy.” You laughed at the man who was now quickly rethinking his answers. “You know you can’t change your answer when you’ve said it.” You spoke, noticing the change in expression.

“I know, I know… just thinking about what Kyllian would say if he heard me say that.”

“If it makes you feel better there’s definitely been moments where he’s thought that about you before.”

He shook his head, a laugh falling from his lips. “You know what I think you might be right…. On more than one occasion I’m willing to bet.” As his laughter subsided, he turned his head away, coughing into his shoulder before facing you again.

“You okay?”

“Me? Yeah… I’m fine, just got something stuck in my throat.” He flashed you a smile, a sign he was definitely lying when it came to things like this.

“I think you’re lying…”

“Calling your boyfriend a liar huh?” He mocked before placing another kiss on your head. Neymar glanced at his phone, quickly noticing the time. “We better get some rest, you need the rest. With little rest you won’t recover fast.” His hand snaked under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. He lowered himself down, kissing your lips lightly, almost scared that if he added force he’d hurt you. He wished he could have longed the kiss out, wanting nothing more than to have you all to himself for that night but he couldn’t and the truth was he could feel himself start to show symptoms of your illness.

“I love you.”

“I love you too… thank you for all of this.”

“I don’t know why you thank me.” He pulled the duvet over the two of you, sinking into the pillows like they were clouds. “In sickness and in health remember?”

“We aren’t married.”

“Yet.” You didn’t need the light on to know he flashed you a grin.

His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you onto his chest. His hand traced your face and lightly made its way to your hair, knowing the feeling immediately relaxed you.

“Ney…”

“Don’t you dare say that I’m going to get ill because I don’t care.”

Giggling into his chest you nodded against his skin. “Fine… you win.”

“I always do love.” He planted one last kiss on your forehead as the two of you quickly drifted off to sleep, both relaxed in one another arms, now finally not caring if one was sick.

The next morning you awoke to the sounds of horrific coughing, it honestly sounded like your boyfriend had managed to choke himself in his sleep.

“Ney?”

“Hmm?” He called from the bathroom, suddenly emerging in the doorway his eyes were bloodshot and pools of sweat started to form on his forehead. “Oh, baby…” You gave him a sorry look as you took in his wrecked state.

“You know…” He plodded back to bed. “You may have had a point about not getting to close when you’re sick, I feel like shit.”

“I did tell you -”

“I know, I know!” He landed on the bed, rolling on his back so he could rest his head on your chest. “I say we just make the most of it and cuddle all day.” He looked up with hopeful eyes.

“Well, I can take care of you.”

“You gonna rival my soup?” A smirk played on his lips.

“Rival it? Your soup is going to taste like dishwater compared to mine.”

#neymar x reader #neymar fluff #neymar jr x reader #neymar smut #neymar fanfic #neymar jr imagine #neymar jr angst #football x reader #football imagine #neymar one shot #neymar imagines #football x y/n #football fanfic

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

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" Hi! Can I request a Lockwood x reader where the reader gets flu and Lockwood looks after them, just really fluff and cute! Thank you "

a/n: for the amazing @nessa-stark, i hope you enjoy! this turned out much shorter than i would've liked, but i think it's still quite cute lol

warnings: mild language gn reader

"When I die, I want chrysanthemums on my coffin. Oh, some lavender, too, for obvious reasons. And maybe cremate me instead of burying me. I'd hate to come back as a Visitor."

"You're not going to die. You've got the flu."

Your body says otherwise. Currently, you're covered in a layer of sweat despite feeling perpetually cold, everything - and you mean everything - aches as if you've been on a very long workout without stretching, and the cough you've had? There's no other way to describe it than it feeling like it shreds your throat every time you cough.

But Lockwood is insistent. It's just the flu and it won't kill you.

"Stay still," he grumbles, bending down to tuck your bedsheets under the mattress and essentially holding you hostage in your own bed.

"I don't like staying still."

"You're telling me."

Through slightly clouded vision, you glare at him, but it's not entirely heartfelt. You appreciate him being here and taking care of you. Really, he'd been going to take a case with Lucy and George while you stayed home and rested, but then you 'took a turn for the worse' and he decided to stay to look after you. Despite feeling like a child when he has to give you medicine or when he's practically spoon-feeding you microwaved soup, it's sort of nice.

It will not prevent your untimely death, however.

"I want you to speak at my funeral," you say, burrowing deep into your pillow. "Say something nice about me, won't you? No mention of that time I punched you after -"

"I think that story holds very true to your character." Lockwood gently brushes hair away from your sweat-soaked forehead, smiling softly. "You punched me because I was being an 'arrogant twat whose head didn't operate right' if I remember correctly. And, besides, you're not going to die. You'll be back to your lovely self in no time."

"You think I'm lovely?"

"Only sometimes. When your mouth is shut."

"Lockwood, you dick!"

You move to lightly slap his arm, but your arms are trapped beneath your duvet. Once more, you glare at him. This is sabotage.

"Such as right now," he says. "You should be resting which means no talking and certainly no assaulting your doctor."

"I'll have you know that talking is one of my favourite pastimes. You've no right to make me stop. As for 'assaulting my doctor', I'm about as close to being related to royalty as you are being a healthcare provider."

One of his eyebrows quirks up, and he picks up a bottle of medicine, watching triumphantly as you cringe at the sight of it.

"Fine. I'll be quiet."

So far, Anthony Lockwood has held you hostage, insulted you, and blackmailed you with the most disgusting substance known to man. His crimes are only increasing by the minute.

"Will you at least lie down with me?" you ask. Your voice is quieter this time, almost shy, despite having nothing to be shy about. The two of you have been together for a few months now. "I can sleep better then."

Lockwood smiles and nods, gesturing for you to shift over. When you do, he lies down beside you on top of the covers, and you curl into his side, resting your head on his chest.

Even though you're ill, it's nice just lying like this, listening to his slow, rhythmic heartbeat and the sound of his quiet breathing. His breaths ruffle your hair a little, which feels funny, but his fingers smooth it down as he gently plays with it. It's getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

"Do you think Lucy and George are alright?" you murmur.

"Of course they are. Don't worry."

You hum in response, too wrapped up in Lockwood's warmth and the comfort of his arms to really form any more words.

"Do you need anything?" Lockwood asks, his voice soft and quiet. "More water? Soup?"

"You to be a quiet pillow," you joke. "No, Lockwood, I'm fine. Thank you."

"I thought you were dying?"

"I am. Just more peacefully now. My deathbed has become increasingly more comfortable for some odd reason."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Mm-hmm. Now, be quiet."

Slowly, you drift off into a nice sleep, coaxed on by a soft kiss on your forehead, latching onto Lockwood and, when you wake up, he's still there, sleeping, too.

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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specialagentlokitty · 4 months

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Daryl x reader - take on the world together

Part 6:

Following Daryl up to the watch tower, you sat down inside while he stood by the door leading to the platform.

“The boy?” He asked.

“Human if that’s what you’re wondering, it’s why I cover him in my jacket when we’re out, and keep him close.”

Daryl nodded.

“How did you really come across him?”

“I was looking for something to eat, it was the second week of the outbreak, I was in a small town looking for sick or injured stragglers left behind, the town had already been overrun by walkers.”

You sighed, and you pulled your knees into your chest, wrapping your arms around then.

“I couldn’t find anything, so I was getting ready to leave and I walked past this house, I heard crying coming from inside, so I walked inside. I walked to the basement door, two walkers were there, looking like they’d tried to get it over with before they were bitten, and they failed, turned anyways.”

Daryl glanced at you before looking out past the prison.

“I crushed their skulls, and I broke open the door, and downstairs was the little boy, huddled in the corner crying his eyes out, he’d hurt his leg trying to reach a window to climb out of. I’d never been one for humanity, but I couldn’t leave him there like that, so I brought him with me.”

You sighed.

“Turns out the walkers I killed was his parents, they wanted this little boy to survive on his own, they left him all alone. I wasn’t going to do that, so I packed a bag with food, and some of his stuff, took a couple of hunting knives and got the hell out of dodge.”

“How’d you know the walkers didn’t like you?”

“Well, you got all these dead things eating living things but none of them coming after me? That’s pretty concrete evidence you know?”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Why did the wounds close so quick?”

“Small wounds heal in seconds, larger ones would be minutes but without a good died I’d be looking at weeks, months even. As long as it doesn’t destroy my heart or brain I’ll always heal.”

He slowly nodded his head, sitting down in the doorway.

“What do you eat?”

“Same thing you guys do.”

He glared at you and you raised your hands.

“I’m telling the truth, I can eat anything you can providing I balance my diet. In order to be up to full strength, I need blood. We survive on human blood, but that doesn’t mean we need to kill in order to do it.”

“We? There’s more? Blood? You survive on fuckin’ blood and you expect me to just keep you around? Is that why you travel with the kid? A snack for later?!” He hissed.

You slammed your hand into the metal wall beside you, making it creek as you put a sizeable dent into it.

“Say that again I’ll take your heart out your chest…”

Daryl stared at you.

He just wanted to make sure everybody was going to be safe with you around, that spencer was safe around you.

Clearly you didn’t want to hurt Spencer, but he couldn’t be so sure about anybody else.

“I’m not going to feed on anybody, you guys have it tough as it is without being hunted down by more creatures. I go out, I find small wildlife, maybe a deer if there is one and I feed on them.”

“Why not feed in walkers, plenty of them running around.”

You scoffed a little shaking your head.

“I tried. I’d much rather drink a whole bottle of holy water than do that again, they taste like shit, like, you ever eaten rotten food? It’s basically the same. I’d have to eat before they turn, cause once they turn the disease or whatever it is destroys everything inside.”

Daryl thought about his next question for a moment.

“Can you tell if someone’s infected?”

You nodded.

“All humans are, I don’t know what it is, but since the outbreak the smell of human changed ever so slightly. No matter how you die, if the brain isn’t destroyed you come back, illness, a wound, bitten.”

You went quiet for a moment.

“I can tell if people are infected, sick with a cold or something, same with animals, can tell if they’re sick.”

“The fuck are you?”

“The original walking undead, vampire. Got no heartbeat, no blood pumping inside me, no body temperature, as cold as a corpse, don’t succumb to human illness, or wounds, or age, better senses, speed, strength. Whatever a human would need to survive this shit, I have.”

He slowly nodded, and he grabbed one of his arrows, stabbing you in the shoulder and you grabbed hold of his wrist.

You bared your fangs at him, red eyes meeting his.

He pulled the arrow out and you raised your hand to your shoulder, pulling it back to look at the blood.

“Then why’re you bleedin’?”

You placed your hand over your shoulder, feeling it already starting to heal.

“Still got blood dumbass, still falls out when I get stabbed. My body still holds blood, any I uh.. let’s just say drink, it gets absorbed into my own body, becoming my own meaning I’ll still have blood, it’s what helps me heal.”

You moved your hand from your shoulder, looking at your blood before you looked back at him, red eyes boring into his own.

You pushed yourself up, squinting a little as sun got in your eyes and you stepped back into the shade.

“The fuck is your problem now?”

“These eyes, the sunlight, they don’t really mix all that well. But you stabbed me, so I don’t really feel like relaxing.”

“Shit, if I wanted to kill you I woulda already dumbass.”

You shrugged a little, crouching down and resting your arms on your knees as you looked at him.

He never dared to turn his back on you, he wasn’t stupid, so, he kept his back on the doorframe.

You kept away from him, not wanting to risk your own life because one wrong move would be all it takes for him to kill you no hesitation.

You saw his gaze fixed outside and you placed your hands on your knees, pushing yourself up.

“What is it?” You asked.

“They’re pushing the fence again.”

Daryl stepped outside and you followed him, hand just above you eyes as you scanned over the walkers.

“You got another trick for this shit?”

You walked around, checking the other fences.

“It’s the smell, all these humans in one area, warm bodies, still alive, that’s what’s bringing them here. You could leave a walkers along the fence, dead ones but that would bring a smell.”

You ran a hand through your hair, and you glanced at him.

“I might be able to scatter some of my own blood, but with that many of you guys in there I just don’t think it’ll work all that ways. I can put some on a few trees.”

“The fuckin’ good is that gonna do?”

“Confused some hopefully, any that come straggling will smell me first, think it’s me and hopefully stay away. I need to know what time the guard changes though, I can go out, but only when I know it’s safe to come and go.”

“You think that’s gonna make me trust you dead ass?”

You shook your head.

“No, but Spencer is here. He’s happy, I want him to be safe. He asked me to help, I’ll help.”

“If he asked you to kill us?”

“If he had a good reason to, then I would kill you without hesitation. I will kill anybody who dares to put him in harms way, don’t mistake this for kindness Daryl, it’s not safe anywhere, he needs food, he needs water, he needs a shelter. That’s all.”

“You really takin’ orders for a kid?” He scoffed.

You said nothing and he shrugged a little bit.

“Fine, do it. I’m on watch tonight.”

You nodded, and you quickly left the watch tower, jogging back up the path to the courtyard.

Jogging up to the gate, you waited for it to open and you looked around.

“He’s inside with my dad.”

You nodded at Carl and made your way inside.

Walking into the cell block, you tried to find the man, and you looked up to the second floor to see him walking out of your cell with Spencer in his arms.

You took the stairs two at a time, and you stopped in front of him.

“He went to sleep, I think he had a nightmare or something he won’t say.”

“Spence?” You asked softly.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, and he spun around, tears on his face.

“Hey buddy, what’s with the tears?”

“You’re okay!”

He flung himself into your arms and you laughed softly, holding him closely, running a hand up and down his back.

“Of course I’m okay, nothings gonna happen to me, alright?”

He sniffled a little bit and nodded his head, and you smiled a little at Rick.

“Thank you…”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, moving past you.

For the rest of the day Spencer stuck closely to your side, and you waited for him to fall asleep before leaving the cell.

Jumping over the gate, you made your way to the bottom of the watch tower where Daryl was waiting for you.

I’ll take out as many as I can while I’m out there, but I’ll focus on creating a diversion.”

He nodded his head, handing you your knife.

“Show me how you get in and out.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you, the pair of you jogging down the path to where two fences meet.

Putting the knife in your belt, you climbed part way up the fence, then you jumped to the next one, jumping over the barbed wire and you landed on your feet.

“Well shit…” he whispered.

“Would be easier if I could break the wire but security and all that, go back to the tower, I’ll come up when I’m done.”

“One wrong move.” He warned.

“Yeah yeah you’ll kill me good and proper.”

“Damn straight.”

You turned around to begin your work.

With the cover of darkness you had the ability to used your full speed, strength, whatever you could in order to get everything done.

You killed walkers, disposed the bodies as far as you could, scattering your blood along street and the top of some of the fences so they couldn’t see it.

You did some hunting, killing a few small animals so you could eat to regain some of the energy you were using.

You also found some scrap metal and brought it over, using it to fill some of the gaps in the fences, crushing them together.

When you were finished you jumped back over the fence, running to the watchtower before climbing up.

Daryl was stood at the top waiting for you.

“I’ve done what I can for now, and covered a few small gaps in the fence.”

He nodded his head.

“They’re going to ask about it.”

“Not my issue, it’s safe, all I care about. What did you see out there?”

“Not much, a few walkers, couple of animals, too many trees to be able to see properly and I was too busy with other shit.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You walked over to the outside of the watchtower, slowly looking around.

For a human it was dark, and they wouldn’t be able to see much but you could see a lot more, you could see a few walkers wondering away, some a little curious but not wanting to come to close.

“It seems to be working.”

“Looks like it, guess you earned your keep for a while.”

You both went quiet for a few minutes, despite your efforts a few walkers could still smell the others inside.

“I don’t think it’s going to last for long, I’ll have to keep going out every few nights to kill them.”

“Don’t know why you’re telling me.”

“You’re the only one that knows, I want to keep it that way, I’ll need to match my time outside with your watches.”

“Oh hell nah, not a fuckin’ chance.”

You turned around.

“Daryl remember our deal, anybody else finds out I’m gone, you’re on your own. I can get to places you can’t, move faster, and move among the walkers. You. Need. Me.”

He grabbed you by the shirt, holding you over the edge of the tower, your cold hand gripped his wrist.

“We don’t need shit from a bitch like you…” he snarled.

“I could easily throw you off this building and to them walkers… nobody would ever find your body…”

“They’ll throw you and the boy out…”

You sneered, loosening your grip on his wrist and you help up your hands.

“Doesn’t change the fact I need to work on your watches…”

Daryl turned you around and threw you inside the tower.

“Fine, I don’t give a shit. Just get the fuck away from me.”

“No problem jackass.”

You left the tower, slowly making your way back towards the cell block, trying to contain your anger

#the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x y/n #twd #twd imagine #twd x reader #twd x you #twd x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon #Daryl Dixon x you

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redratt · 1 year

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scribble i did of older cunoesse - she's still homeless. she doesn't want a home. a home is a place you can be found in, a discovery that can be used against you. - she has killed again. she's still on drugs, and she's still angry. - and time doesn't respect | what doesn't respect it | and kind isn't a word i would use for man - Cunoesse is not the fun sort of mentally ill. she's got problems that run too deep and blistered to fix with a hug and a soft word. she watches Cuno and his Pig friends, and she feels a bitterness that she can't bother to name. deeper than jealousy, you know? betrayal. that's what it is. betrayal. - and i wonder if i'll die born against - she knows the dark places. Cunoesse can find you just about anything you want. you pay her and in two days she'll dig up an old power armor helmet. she knows things that other folks would die to know, but they'll die with her. - all shivers. all shivers. the city is her, and she is the city. the Pigs think they know, but they don't. they never will. not like her. she closes her eyes and watches grey-muzzle Hardie clink beer bottles with an out-of-town floozie with short shorts. the dicemaker (what was her name - ) is still at her work. are those made of bones? - there's a Lorry driver who comes through with choppy hair. she reminds Cunoesse of a face from the past. one with a ragged smile and headphones and a blonde on her arm. - Cunoesse's sexuality has never once crossed her mind, but once she got to the age where she wanted sex, it's only been with women. - it's obvious that | quiet as a rat | god was nowhere near - the pigs feel sorry for her. the people think she's a nuisance. only Cunoesse -- and the net-picker, with her weathered-pretty smile and keen eyes -- knows the truth: she's a queen of a rotted castle. the smiling corpse skull is her domain. the city is oozing bile, and Cunoesse knows the runoffs like the back of her hands. - she brings food for the net-picker. for Lilienne. there are kids. Cunoesse looks at her kids and there's always a feeling in her belly where the world goes sideways and her eyes burn. they've got bright smiles. they don't need her help. she knows that. but. but- a kid should never go hungry, should never - - Annette is good to her, though. They sit together in silence. Weightless. Once, Cunoesse tells her about Lely. The dead man. His stories of war crimes. How the mercs thought it was funny to give her booze and talk about things that make Cunoesse's stomach crawl then and made her feel sick, now. Annette holds her hand, tells in turn of a time Plaissance became so incensed she didn't talk to Annette for three days. -when she settles her head on Annette's shoulder, she is trembling. it stops, in time.

#disco elysium #cunoesse #disco elysium cunoesse #cunoesse fandart #disco elysium fanart #amigo the devil #character study #disco elysium fanfiction #lilienne the net picker #cuno de ruyter #disco elysium game #disco elysium blogging #idk the girls...

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8aji · 2 years

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the ask game is such a cute idea! okay so

character: tsukki bc ik you love him

and random word: charging

prompt enemies to lovers! tsukishima kei x reader where you try to rile each other up for whatever reason you can find; today? the power outlet at the library.

send me a character and the randomest, first word you think of and ill write a prompt based on it! (i may write a lil blurb based on it as well!)

“What percentage is it at?”

“Low.”

Silence. Only the sound of aggressive typing, book pages being turned with such despair the fragile paper was under a constant threat of being ripped, and muffled groans of pain, filled the library—It was exam week after all—but other than that, nothing. You didn’t know if you wanted to scream at his seemingly condescending tone, though to be fair, you knew how he acted whenever you asked for anything, or existed too close to him, the mutual feelings of ugh for each other well known, so you asking to use the outlet was basically an act of self-sabotage.

“It’s about to die, Can I, please, use the outlet?”

“No,” he sighed, shaking his head, pretend to be bother by your presence but secretly enjoying it. “I’m charging my phone”

Silence, again, and this time you could clearly see the SLIVER of a smirk graze his stupidly hydrated lips, and despite his glasses blocking your view of his eyes, you’re sure they were shaped like slight crescent moons, shimmering all pretty, just like they do every time you have an unpleasant encounter and he manages to get the upper hand. Infuriating, You’re sure he’s doing it on purpose, holding the outlet hostage so you had to beg for it, but you wouldn’t falter, you’ll never falter around Tsukishima Kei.

And now, you aren’t nosy per se, curious? Maybe curious, but definitely not nosy. Curious and incredibly smart, very ingenious if you may, which meant you didn’t hesitate side-eying his phone screen the when a flurry of messages lit up his phone. What you saw almost made you gasp.

“Its fully charged”

“Huh, I didn’t realise.”

And yet he didn’t unplug his stupid charger, he just continued writing away on his laptop, likely trying to reduce the words on his stupid essay because he’s stupid and always writes way past the maximum word count, and you know this because…?

“Can’t you just unplug it?”

“Just use another one.” He sighed, letting his head rest against the back of his chair. He was getting annoyed, at you nonetheless; good.

“Can’t, all of them are occupied”

“That’s impossible—”

“Its exams week,” you pressed, “everyone’s basically camping out at the library.”

“Then ask someone else?”

Twirling the thought in your head, sliding it side to side like a marble, you could hear it clink against your skull. Suppressing the Cheshire smile threatening to split your lips, you let out an overtly exaggerated sigh, slumping your shoulders forward just a bit, enough for him to notice.

“Okay.”

He had to do a double take, watching as your very pretty hands rolled up your charger.

“What?”

“Yeah if you wont give it up, I’ll ask someone else.” You brushed him off, taking your time putting your laptop and books back into your bag, those that you had prematurely taken out when you thought he’d give up his place easily.

“Wait!” He exclaimed. He almost knocked down his water bottle with how fast he stood up, making you jump in surprise. The noise only made him want to curl up into himself as the other students started shushing him; he hadn’t realised he spoke that loudly. He cleared his throat, feeling warmth creep up his neck and cheeks, he tried to play it off by adjusting his now crooked glasses. “I mean, yeah, you can have it,” he couldn’t help but look to the side as your eyes met, he couldn’t hide behind the lenses anymore. “I was going anyway, I don’t care.”

#tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #ask away!

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yandere-daze · 2 years

Note

Greetings bestie! Could I perhaps bother you with a request for yandere Epel with a darling who confronts him abt a bunch of their friends falling suddenly ill recently. We know that those in Pomefiore are great with making potions so perhaps he’s been making some less savoury ones and giving them to darlings friends as warnings. How would he react to darling confronting him w some evidence of it? Either hcs or a scenario, I will leave the choice up to you!

Tysm in advance bestie 💕💕

Heya bestie!! Always glad to have you in my inbox!! Thank you so much for the request, I really enjoyed writing this ^^

I decided to make it so Epel and reader aren´t in a relationship yet for maximum unwarranted jealousy kcsasnjsbkhg

This ended up being way longer than I thought it would be but I can´t help myself when it comes to the best boy! It´s also once again a weird mishmash of headcanons and a scenario. A scenario on bullet points? Mayhaps

Gender neutral reader as always!

tw yandere, drugging ( not reader), jealousy, obsession, possessiveness

Confronting Yandere! Epel about all of your friends falling ill recently

For once in his life, Epel was actually happily that he had been sorted into Pomefiore instead of Savanaclaw as he had always wished. Otherwise, he would have never known about all of these handy potions his dorm was so well known for

He had stood by idly for way too long now. Day in and day out he had to see you spend time with these other people you called friends. Time you could be spending with him! He knows he´s far away from being the perfect man for you but it still bothers him to no end to feel your attention shift away from him whenever someone else enters the room

It just makes him so frustrated! Epel truly wishes he could curse out the whole lot of them with some colorful insults but he fears your reaction if he were to do that. Surely it would destroy the kind and gentle image you have of him!

Sure, it bothers Epel quite a bit to be seen as innocent and weak but he doesn´t really mind it as much if it means you continue to keep him close

So if the direct way of getting them to leave fails, Epel has to get a bit more creative if he wants your friends to stay away from you

The idea comes to him when you´re both in Alchemy class together. You´re partners on a project and you´re supposed to brew a potion that causes symptoms of slight nausea and fever in the victim that drinks the potion. For this you´re supposed to brew the potion in pairs and then fill the finished product into bottles

Brewing potions is a Pomefiore specialty and as such it´s something Epel himself is quite talented at. Vil has given him countless lessons on what little details you have to take into consideration when making these potions so he´s pretty confident in achieving his goal

What is his goal, you ask? Why, to use this opportunity to get rid of his competition of course! Well, not permanently sadly, Epel doesn´t think he could get away with outright killing your friends. And it would make you so sad too, he doesn´t think he could take it to see you cry desperately over the death of your friends

No, an outright poision is out of the question

But it wouldn´t be too bad if Epel simply made a mistake and added a little too much of the ingredients they were supposed to be using, right?

He even thought a bit ahead and uses plants he had grown himself in addition to the ones they were provided in class so no one would notice that he had taken too many. Epel can be quite devious when he wants to, you know?

But of course, while you asking to be his lab partner is something Epel greatly appreciates and makes him blush all cutely because you chose him, him, him! - it´s kind of inconvenient when he´s trying to (nonlethaly) poison your friends

That doesn´t mean he´s going to refuse of course! He could never reject you when you´re trying to spend time with him, he would honestly rather die than miss out on a chance to get even closer to you

So he tries to do it discreetly when you´re not looking. Maybe he asks you to watch the fire under the cauldron so it won´t accidentally go out in the middle of the process or he makes you fetch something else for him. Just anything to distract you for a while so he can slip in the additional herbs he had brought to increase the effects of the potion

There´s a proud but oddly sinister smile on Epel´s face when you turn back to look at him after having completed whatever task he had assigned you

“Are we doing okay?”, you ask him to which he only replies with “Everything is going according to plan”

You can´t quite explain why you suddenly feel uneasy when you look back at your friend

It´s the end of class and while you stay around to show your results to Professor Crewel, Epel slips a few of the completed potions into his bag while no one is looking

He has something to take care of, he tells you as he leaves in a hurry

Epel then walks out into the hallway where students are leaving their classrooms and walks over to some of your friends

He offers the newly brewed potion to them with a sweet smile on his face, taking advantage of his acursed soft features for once. He knows your friends would never see someone as weak-looking as him as a threat but maybe they would reconsider after this incident

With a promise to drink the potion later, they all part ways. Epel can´t stop the twisted smirk appearing on his face as he turns their back on these pests that dare take away your time. Maybe this will serve as a lesson for them to not think of him lightly and to stay away

It´s not long before the news reach you that almost all of your friends are sick in the infirmary. You´re shocked to see their bad condition, they had all looked so healthy when you had last seen them this morning, how could they all have fallen sick so suddenly? It would be one thing if one of them was coming down with a fever and there just hadn´t been any symptoms earlier but all of them? At the same time? With the same symptoms as well? There had to be something wrong

There was simply no other explanation than someone having messed with them somehow so you asked them if anything suspicious happened today. You felt a shiver go down your spine when each of them told you that after classes, Epel had visited them and given them something to drink. And all of them had suddenly fallen ill after drinking it

Alarm bells where ringing in your head, especially when you recalled the alchemy lesson you had both had that day. They were supposed to be brewing a potion that had the same symptoms of nausea and fever. But it shouldn´t have been strong enough to put someone in the infirmary, surely!

Now that you think about it, Professor Crewel did say that they had messed up the potion somehow. The wrong amount and some additional herbs in it, he had said? And you did also notice that you both ended up having less bottles of potion than the other groups...

You didn´t want to believe it but with all of this evidence it was hard to deny that there´s a high possibility that Epel has something to do with the sudden sickness of your friends. But why would he ever do something like that? It doesn´t make any sense to you! He was always so nice whenever they hang around you both so what reason would he have to do something like this?

None at all, as far as you knew. Which is why it was of utmost importance to question Epel himself to find out the truth about this incident. You just hoped despite everything that it just turned out to be an honest mistake or coincidence and that your best friend had not tried to make your other friends seriously sick

Epel was pleasantly surprised when you came to visit him in Pomefiore that day. You had not made any plans to hang out today so imagine his joy when you knocked on his door. You came to see him out of your own volition, how wonderful!

Maybe you do like him the best after all! Or maybe his plan had succeeded and the obstacles that called themselves your friends were finally out of commission. Serves them right for trying to steal you away from him!

He greets you with a bright smile but his gentle expression quickly morphs into a concerned frown when he notices how tense you look. Why are you looking at him with distrust in your eyes?

“Epel”, you begin and he quickly focuses all of his attention on you after you called his name.

“Do you have anything to do with my friends getting sick suddenly?”, you ask him with a stern tone and for a second, Epel felt his heart freeze. Were you onto him? But he tried his best to hide it from you!

He realizes that he needs to reply quickly and quell your fears before you find out the truth. Time to put on the innocent act again

“Oh no! Your friends are sick? I had no idea! I really hope they´ll feel better soon, fevers are not easy to get rid off.... I really don´t understand why you would think I would have a hand in that though, I would never do anything to harm someone”

There, that should be enough to reassure you, right? So why can´t the both of you just let go of this topic and move onto having fun together again?

Hearing his explanation, a dark pit opens in your stomach as you process the words your friend had just uttered. These damning words

“How do you know that?”

That is all you say after 10 tense seconds of silence

“Huh? What do you me-”

You cut Epel off before he could finish his sentence

“How would you know they have a fever? I never said anything about that. And don´t tell me someone else told you about it, you said you didn´t even know about them being sick a few minutes ago. Explain yourself!”

Epel internally curses at his own carelessness. How could he have let that slip! He was trying to act compassionate and worried for these pests but instead he had just doomed himself. You must be sure that he had something to do with it and he couldn´t think of anything to explain his slip-up either! What was he supposed to do now?

“Staying silent won´t help you either, Epel. I know that you messed with the potion we brewed in alchemy class today and that you stole a few bottles to give them to my friends. I just want to understand why you would do something like that. You´re my best friend!”

Ah, so he truly had messed up now. You knew all about what he had done and you also saw through his innocent act. How could the two of you ever go back to how you used to be?

No, he didn´t want that. Though he was still panicking, something you had said struck a cord with Epel and it made him laugh humorlessly

Your best friend? That´s not who he wanted to be. That´s not who he was. Your relationship was more special than that, Epel was sure of it! You just couldn´t see it yourself, you were blinded by...by...!

“These pests had it coming”

Is what he says in the end, visibly unsettling you

“Pests...? Excuse me?! They are my friends, why would you say something so cruel, Epel? This isn´t like you at all!”

Oh Epel wanted to keep laughing but he also felt like crying. Not like him? No, this is him showing his true nature to you for the first time. He´s done trying to pretend to be happy with just staying your friend, done with staying to the side while everyone else crowds around you. He´s done with letting this biting jealousy keep chipping away at him whenever you´re not looking at him and him alone

“They´re not your friends! They can´t even appreciate you the way I do! I care about you way more than they ever could and it hurts when you pay attention to them and not me!”

“Epel where is this coming from? I-”

“No, you´re going to let me talk! I´m sick of pretending to like you as a friend! I love you!”, he´s basically screaming at this point, the gentle tone of his voice long gone and replaced by a truer, more agressive one

You on the other hand, are rendered speechless. It´s a far cry from when you were trying to interrogate Epel about the situation of your friends. Never could you have imagined that he secretly felt that way about you

You´re shocked to say the least, but he´s not yet done with his rant

“I´m not the sweet person you think I am, I only acted that way because I thought you might like me more then. I wanted you to fall in love with me as well but nooo, these other people had to just keep getting in my way and I had to act like I was happy to see them when I wanted nothing more than rip them apart! I´m sick and tired of it all, I can´t take it anymore!”

You´re getting more and more concerned by the second but it seems like there is no end to Epels rather passionate rant. It´s like he had been bottling up all of these feelings for a long time and now the damm is broken and it´s all flooding out at once

“ So I had to do something! I had to teach them a lesson that they should take me seriously and stay the hell away from you! It´s what they deserve for taking up your time with their mindless drivel that no one really cares about, they´re not worth your time! And I´ll prove to you that I can be a better partner than any of them could ever dream to be! I´m stronger than all of them and their weak bodies laying in the infirmary after one measly little potion is the proof of that!”

Epel is panting heavily afterwards, completely out of breath from having screamed his heart out to you just now. You couldn´t do anything aside from watching him slowly calm down, you were too shaken to do anything else

Then, after a few more seconds, the harsh expression on Epel´s face softens up again and is replaced by a sickly-sweet smile and a heavy blush on his face

“Hah, I guess I just confessed to you, didn´t I? I always thought I could be way cooler and smoother when I did it but this should suffice, I guess?”

Epel, takes your hand in his and gently places it against his cheek as he leans into your warm touch. There´s a dark and twisted glint in his eyes as he stares at you and you can´t help but feel uneasy with how lovesick he looks

“I love you more than anyone else, y/n and I´ll destroy anyone that tries to get between us, okay? I´ll show you how strong and reliable I am and then no one will ever split us apart. I´ll never let you go”

It seems like you´ve finally found the answer to the sudden sickness that had befallen all of your friends, but at what cost?

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lotties-ashwagandha · 2 years

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UNTIL THE POETS RUN OUT OF RHYME

pairing: michonne (season 3) x reader

word count:

notes and warnings: requested by @cartoonpeoples who u should go follow immediately ,, also this is based on “baby i’m yours” by arctic monkeys. i... i have no idea what happened here,, it started out as hurt/comfort but idk what the fuck it turned into and i kind of hate it ive never written michonne before and had no idea what i was doing lol love u at least there’s some poetry about death

also im deadass gonna write you another michonne oneshot that will be hurt/comfort bc thats how much i hate this ANYWAY

summary: michonne saves you from a walker at the pharmacy during a supply run

taglist: @devriesgoode @traumatisedfangirl @cordeliass @thedeconstructionist @goodeday2u @paulsonsratched

I would be content to die in your arms.

I would be content to know that my last breath would be spent with your gaze upon me, that in the last words we’d share I would find heaven.

I would be content to know that your life would stretch on long after mine, that this desolate life we have been plagued with would choose to drag me under before you.

I will wait for you – always, I will wait.

You waited for her to return, digging through the contents of the pharmacy.

Seven deaths had occurred in the last two days. There was no explanation for the illness that had taken hold of the prison’s inhabitants. You had been trading shifts with Herschel looking after the patients – he had been teaching you healing ever since you had left the farm.

Yet even through the constant care and isolation the prisoners were receiving, only a few of their conditions seemed to be improving.

You had volunteered to accompany Michonne on a supply run… or you would have, if it hadn’t been expected already that the two of you would be traveling together. You always accompanied each other on supply runs, ever since a close call in a gas station a few months ago in which you’d almost gotten your arm ripped off.

Reading the labels of various medications, you attempted to remember what you were looking for, even though you could hardly pronounce any of the names on the bottles. You would never admit it, but you were utterly lost.

Vaguely, you could hear a shuffling on the other end of the room, behind rows of shelves containing medications and first aid kits.

“I found around half of what Herschel wanted,” you said mindlessly, certain that it was Michonne that was approaching you, coming back from retrieving items from a list Lori had made. “I can’t fucking remember what else I’m meant to get, though. You’d be surprised at how much the old bastard has retained, he’s not a complete–”

A hand shot from behind the shelf you were standing before, wrapping around your throat.

You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t move at all as shock made its way through your body, paralyzing you.

You panicked as your breath escaped you, as you began to feel lightheaded, your vision spinning.

And then you were on the floor. The arm had fallen with you, clattering down beside you.

Though you were free, you could still hardly breathe. The realization of your release did not come until you saw the arm limp on the floor, and only then did your body begin to obtain the breath it craved.

Someone was kneeling beside you.

This time, you did not waste a moment, slipping the knife from the belt at your hip and pressing it to their throat–

Michonne ripped the knife from your hand, and you watched as blood dripped from the cut at her throat.

She had caught you just in time. You had only given her a cut that spanned a few inches, and it did not seem deep, yet still it tortured you.

Your breathing was heavy as you spoke between gasps. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly as you slumped against the wall. You couldn’t look at her, couldn’t look back at the cut, couldn’t imagine what would have taken place had she been too late.

She responded a beat too late and did not address her own injury. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, though your throat was still throbbing, and you were certain that bruises would form where the walker’s grip had been.

“What happened?” she hissed.

“I thought it was you returning,” you admitted, meeting her eyes. You observed the concern in her expression, and where you expected to find anger you found only worry. Glancing back to her throat, you took in a breath to speak, but she stopped you.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she ordered, taking your hand. She glanced around the pharmacy. “We should get back. Did you get all of the meds?”

“No.”

“Well, Herschel will have to make use of what you’ve collected.”

She did not let you protest, guiding you to a stand and slipping an arm protectively around your waist.

You leaned into her, melting into her presence. The terror that had grasped you wore away with every second you spent in her embrace, for you knew that as long as you were in each other’s arms, no harm could come to you.

Neither of you spoke until you reached the horses waiting outside. No words were needed. You understood each other in a way that speech could not bring, a way that made vocalization useless.

You met her eyes, and she knew. She knew every intention, every thought.

Yet what she didn’t expect was your next words, for they seemed to come out of nowhere as you mounted your horse.

“I hope I die first between the two of us,” you admitted, watching her expression take on surprise.

“Why the hell would you wish that?”

“If I die first, I’ll know that I’ll have done my best to keep you safe. And while I won’t be there to protect you after I die, I’ll know that at the very least you’ll live after me, if only for a moment.”

Wordlessly she jumped off her horse, mounting yours behind you. You felt her kiss your shoulder before resting her chin there, running her hands up and down your waist. “You know I could never live without you.”

“Please, try,” you breathed, looking back at her.

She offered you a small smile, sealing her promise with a kiss – in the way her lips met yours you could feel the gentleness she offered, the eternal peace she swore to give you. Her love engulfed you in every way.

You pulled away, looking down at the cut on her neck. Gently you wiped away the blood that was still trickling down to her shirt.

What you didn’t tell her was that you would be content to die in her arms.

You would be content to know that your last breath would be spent with her gaze upon you, that in the last words you’d share you would find heaven.

You would be content to know that her life would stretch on long after yours, that this desolate life you had been plagued with would choose to drag you under before her.

You would wait for her – always, you would wait.

You did not tell her these things. You would never utter the words, for she already knew.

The love you had did not need words, and you were certain that even in death you would find your way back to the paradise that rested in her eyes.

#the walking dead #michonne #michonne twd #twd #woodbury #rick grimes #michonne x reader #ftwd #fear the walking dead

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jantea · 1 year

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Here's an idea for a MHA oc of mine.

My 'Oboro's kid' oc starts out with a little backstory. Oboro and Nemuri were secretly datinging for maybe a month or two before Oboro's death. Maybe a week before, Nemuri gets a positive pregnancy test. She decides to abort but dithers about weather or not to tell Oboro. But then Oboro dies and she doesn't have the heart to get rid of it anymore, and decides to have the baby.

She doesn't tell Shouta or Hizashi. Her due date vs her school schedule barely allow this to be possible, although the boys do know that there was a couple months where Nemuri was 'ill' and couldn't participate in practical heroics classes.

Both her family and Oboro's don't intend to support her, and she's almost relieved for the excuse to put the baby up for adoption. She's only doing this because in her grief, she can't bring herself to let that last peice of Oboro die. She never wanted to be a mother...at least, not that young. So she gives the baby up for adoption when it's born.

Yamada Nero grows up in foster care. He knows his teen mother gave him his first name. (He does not know he is named for his parents, *Ne*muri and Obo*ro*.) His last name was randomly selected from the ten most common last names in Japan.

His quirk is called Sleep Mist. (Somnambulist Cloud might be a more accurate name, but neither he nor his quirk councilor knows that.) It is basically Oboro's quirk, except the clouds he makes and controls are purple instead of white, and breathing them in will put you straight to sleep. Looks wise, he is a carbon copy of his dad, with his mom's darker blue hair and eyes. Anyone who knows his parents would know who he is just by looking at him.

In his younger years, he falls into the hands of an unscrupulous foster parent. The man is a drug dealer behind closed doors. He starts bottling Nero's quirk mist and selling it as a date rape drug, and Nero is young enough at the time that he doesn't understand. After he is rescued from that foster placement, he gains a reputation for having a "villainous" quirk because of it started to get around what it was used for. A lot of people blame him for the crimes of the people who abused his quirk, and Nero blames himself as well. He swears to become a hero and atone.

Years later, he enters UA. Aizawa, who is watching the exams, immediately pegs him as Oboro and Nemuri's secret love child, and confronts Nemuri about it. Nemuri confesses, and then struggles with weather or not she should try to reach out to her son. Both Aizawa and Nemuri start stalking the kid around school, feeling they want to get to know him a little before they approach him.

And at the USJ, Nero clashes quirks with the mysterious mist villain...their quirks have a strange interaction when they mix together...and the mist villain Kurogiri stars getting brain glitches when he looks at Nero and Aizawa's faces...

#tw teen pregnancy #tw mentions of rape #mha #bnha #aizawa shouta #hizashi yamada #present mic #eraserhead #jans snips and ideas #oboro shirakumo #kurogiri #nemuri kayama

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lunarsands · 2 years

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ALSMP Fanfic: Until The Blood Moon Descends Ch 2

Characters: merling!Scott, gravital!Sausage, goolien!Sausage, giant!Sausage, thornling!Scott, and a few more iterations…

Relationships: MythicalSausage/Scott Smajor

Tags: Canon Divergent, scosage

Warnings: Injury, Illness, Body Horror, Character Death (by fourfold), Angst

(Sequel to Echoing Through To You and When The Skies Cry)

Summary: Sausage and Scott start to find balance again as gravital and merling, and life falls into a relaxing routine. Then one night a Blood Moon rises and their bond is tested like never before. Destiny, it seems, continues to hound their every step…

(Also available on Ao3!)

[ Chapter One ]

Chapter Two

It might have been the sound of his own labored breathing that disturbed Sausage during the night, but after a few moments he also noticed that there seemed to be something scrabbling around in his room. He could swear he heard a faint beeping noise but then it stopped. “S-Scott? Is – Is that you?” he called blearily. He couldn’t see much in the dark but didn’t have the energy to turn on the light.

Someone who definitely wasn’t Scott muttered, “Signal is weak but this is the source. Bad and good timing it seems.”

They sounded like they were almost right next to his pillows. Sausage turned and attempted to push himself up, black mist curling around his hand. “W-Who’s there? H-How did you get in here?”

“Oh, you really are in rough shape. That will make this easier. Hey, over here.” A dull greenish light lit up beside the crate of health potions. Sausage was very confused by what he was seeing. There seemed to be a very small, semi-transparent bipedal creature dressed in some type of red bodysuit with a closed helmet standing on the wooden chest, holding a tiny silver box which was the source of the light.

“Who – and what – are you?”

“That’s going to take some explaining. Let me start with this: I’m from somewhere far away, and I arrived here on the night of crimson, and you caused me to crash land because of some gravity malfunction. It has taken me far too much time to track you down because everything on this planet is absurdly large, and as I now see you don’t even have that much gravity power left. Since you obviously won’t be able to help with that part of the matter, you can help me in another way – because right now, as I see it, you owe me one.”

Sausage gave a quiet little laugh then coughed. “What? I was – I was fighting monsters half the night. What do you mean ‘this planet’? …I must be delirious or something.” He eyed the tiny creature then reached over it to try to pick up one of the potions. His fingertips caught at the top of a bottle but he only managed to knock it over in the attempt.

The creature watched and shook its head judgingly. “You really don’t have a lot of time. Listen: I can give you more time, but we need to make a deal. I have a mission to carry out and I need a host to get me across this stupidly big landmass. You’re about to die, and you’re responsible for my delay. Work with me and we both benefit.”

“A mission? A host? What does that even mean?” Sausage huffed in frustration and tried again, although his hand was shaking, and he was unable to grip the neck of the next nearest bottle. He was beginning to fear what this creature meant when saying he was about to die.

“The princess of my people came to this world and was murdered. I’m here to find her killer and enact justice. But not being of royal blood, I can’t fully function in this atmosphere and have to conserve my body’s energy. If I have a host – that is, if I possess a body like yours – I’ll be able to do what I need to and then be on my way. You can have an extra day here, then let me take over and complete my mission, and afterward I leave and you can do whatever it is your species does when it expires.”

“How do you even know how much time I have left?”

“If I can possess a body, don’t you think I would know what condition it’s in?”

Sausage couldn’t believe he was still entertaining this delusion, but had to ask, “So how much time, exactly?” He remembered that at the end the mist had overwhelmed Scott without much warning.

“About four and a half hours.”

“Uh… So that’s… What time is it now..?”

“You’re not making it to sunrise, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Sausage tried to think if he could successfully manage to find Scott, get through another possible argument with him, and still say what he needed to in order to make peace with him within that time frame. As he grabbed the side of the blanket to pull it back so he could get up, he saw the mist surrounding his hand. He realized he had two options: he could try to yell for Scott so he would come to him, but he didn’t feel like he had the lung strength for that right now; or he could agree to this alien creature’s proposal and buy the time to talk to Scott in the morning. He wasn’t sure how he would explain the latter, but maybe Scott would be more reasonable by then.

“If I agree to this, promise me you’ll leave Scott out of it. Actually, no, I want you to help him. All he can think about is blaming himself, and I don’t want him to keep on like that. There has to be a way to get past all this.”

“I’ll see what I can do, after I get back.”

“Fine. So…what happens now?”

“Lay down for one thing. You’re going to fall off of this rest platform if you don’t, anyway. Then just close your eyes. I promise you won’t feel a thing.”

~*~

It was more than four hours later when Sausage opened his eyes to see daylight streaming through the curtains. He held a hand up, staring as he tried to determine if there was mist around it or if he just wasn’t fully awake yet. He felt… nominally better. Breathing seemed a little easier and his arm wasn’t as weak when he reached over to pick up one of the potions. He took a cautious sip. Much like the last time it didn’t seem to do anything to help, but he drank the whole bottle just so Scott would see that he had listened.

If only the former merling would listen to him. However, he didn’t know what else to say to ease the guilt. He could go over each incident that had led to his deaths and try to rationalize them, but he knew Scott had never gotten over the first one. When he had tried to remove that specific guilt Scott had stopped him, not wanting to be forgiven. The guilt was a part of him, integral, important to him, to always have inside. Maybe it was due to not having much of a conscience as a vampire then gaining one as an angel, particularly in regard toward Sausage as he fell in love with him.

It hurt Sausage to think about it, but maybe he himself needed to accept that Scott would continue carrying those feelings through all of his future lives. He would prefer still trying to help him heal, but this life, right now, wasn’t the one to do it. Maybe he could try again in whatever followed when the alien was done with him.

A knock on the door made his thoughts scatter. “C-Come in— Oh.”

Scott walked through the door without opening it, seeming to make a point to face away into the room as he spoke in a clipped tone, “Good morning. I’d ask how you were feeling but I know the answer won’t be ‘better’.”

“N-No, actually, I do—” Sausage stopped himself. Should he tell him about the alien? Would it make much difference? It was only an extra day – well, less than that by this point – and he would still die with no way of knowing what would happen next. “—because… I slept all right,” he continued. He felt he should say something else, but no words were coming to him.

Scott tilted his head, ear turned toward the bed. “No cough right now?”

“No, it – it cleared up a little. Maybe the potions are working better this time?”

“They’re not a long-term solution. You know that.”

“Scott, can we please just talk without all the impending doom hanging over our heads?”

The former merling didn’t reply so much as exhale loudly through his nose.

“Fine,” Sausage said sadly, “Be that way.” He fidgeted with the edge of the blanket then sighed, unable to commit to the silent treatment. “But, just— Remember, no matter what I come back as, I love you.”

“I – I know.” Scott struggled with the traditional response. He uttered a sigh of his own and finally moved, sitting at the very end of the bed out of reach but feeling like he owed it to Sausage to sit with him for at least a little while. “I still hate every second of this. I can’t think of any way it could have gone worse.”

Sausage had a few ideas but kept them to himself. He racked his brain for something funny to say instead, something to try to lighten the mood, but then Scott said, “I… won’t see when you go, or when you come back because then I might curse you all over again. I won’t know what you are. I hope it isn’t also bad, because… well, remember what I said when angel-me died? I can’t be much of a conscience for you if I’m like this.”

Sausage was about to ask him to stay beside him until that moment, but realized the situation could change very fast when the alien took over. “Hey, um, how about this for an idea: if you get some paper and a quill, I can write a note for myself, to remind me to keep that promise, too! And I’ll—” He stopped himself again. “…I’ll, um, I’ll let you know what I am when I can.”

He had to include that last part in case he wasn’t near home when the alien left, although he would hope it would have the courtesy to not abandon him thousands of blocks away. Maybe he should add a reminder in the note to keep obsidian plus a flint and steel on him so he could take a shortcut home if that did happen.

“I’m not sure that would work,” Scott replied, although he stood up. “But I’ll do it if you really want. Let me go look.” He walked directly through the door again.

Sausage let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He really should have asked the alien creature more questions about what would happen when it took over, and when it left.

If he hadn’t simply dreamt the whole thing.

But then, he was better right now, and it was true the potions didn’t ultimately work. His thoughts then doubled back on themselves. Scott didn’t seem any more agreeable this morning, and the rest of the day would likely go the same.

“You don’t have to give me a whole day anymore,” Sausage whispered out loud. “It doesn’t matter.” He got out of bed and picked up one of the empty potion bottles, clutching it tightly as he went over to the open window beside the desk. It would be a simple matter to climb out. “Let’s go now, before he comes back. It won’t be fair, but none of this is.” He placed the bottle so it sat precariously close to the edge of the desk. “Don’t let him catch us leaving.”

“If that’s what you want,” said the creature’s voice inside his head. “Hold on to your bronchial tubes.”

Sausage then began to cough violently. His legs started to give out, causing him to stumble until he caught himself on the wall, where he saw the mist surrounding his hand once more. Scott would undoubtably hear. He shakily reached out for the windowsill.

He blacked out before he even hit the floor.

The sound of glass shattering caught Scott’s attention more than the coughing. The latter he couldn’t do anything about, but if Sausage got hurt by any broken pieces that would just be literal insult to injury. He left the book and quill in favor of a dustpan to clean up the glass with. This time he opened the bedroom door instead of walking through it. “Sausage, are you all…”

The room was now utterly silent. He could see some of the broken potion bottle from under the edge of his blindfold. It was across the room, not near the bed. He set down the dustpan and felt around along the blanket to be sure. No body was there. He carefully searched around to make sure Sausage wasn’t just slumped somewhere out of view, but there was also no other sounds besides his own breathing. For a second he entertained the thought that Sausage was now also something that could walk through walls, but the more acceptable thought – and what he preferred to be true – was he had come to his senses and left altogether to avoid being cursed again.

Allowing listlessness to take hold, Scott lifted his blindfold just enough to be able to more safely clean up the glass, then pulled it back into place once it was taken care of. He put away the remaining potions then returned to the bedroom, curling up on the bed and imagining that it still felt warm, that Sausage had not been gone for long.

He should have told him that he loved him one more time, or had the guts to say goodbye when he knew this was what could happen.

~*~

The next few days blended one into the other for Scott. He tried to do some upkeep around the villa, tried to make sure all the flowers in the garden patches were watered, tried to tend the animals. It was just things that had to be done. He considered letting the animals free to return to the fields, considered letting the gardens grow wild.

But what if Sausage returned and decided he wanted his home back?

Scott thought about returning to his vampire mansion, long since left to the elements after Sausage basically took him in while he regained his strength when he became an angel, and then it just seemed right to stay in Heaven’s Reach after that. As a compromise to himself, he went down to Wither’s Grasp and made the manor a little more livable since it had also been left to gather cobwebs. Boarded up windows were certainly suitable for whatever his new life alone was going to turn out to be.

He didn’t know yet what else he was going to do. Just wait, perhaps, and let nature take its course. One thought at the very back of his mind – something he didn’t dare call hope – was that Sausage, reborn hale and hearty, had left to find a better answer to the problem.

It occurred to Scott that he should write down everything he knew so far, since he had left that one book back at the stronghold, just in case Sausage did return, and there was the chance that one of them might become an Enigma again in the future. The project took up part of an afternoon, and he was leaving the manor to bring the book up to the villa when he heard footsteps crunching on the rocky dirt of the path. He quickly tugged at his blindfold to make sure he didn’t accidentally catch sight of them.

“Hello?” he called out, keeping his voice steady to avoid giving away his weakness. “Who’s there?”

“An old friend,” came a semblance of Sausage’s voice; something seemed off about it, not to mention that was a strange way to refer to himself. “Ssscott,” he then sounded out the other’s name as if it was an unfamiliar word. “Come with me. We have business to tend to.”

Before Scott could react, a hand closed on his arm and he was practically dragged across Wither’s Grasp, over the bridge, and partway up the stone staircase. “Saus—where are we going?”

“Back to the scene of the crime.”

That phrasing didn’t sit well with him, but he didn’t protest as he was encouraged to climb up into the cave that sat inside the wall, left just as it was on the night of the Blood Moon. Still holding onto the book, Scott was about to ask why they were there now, but hands turned him to make sure he was facing toward Sausage and then the blindfold was yanked off his head. “No-!” He started to cover his face with his arms but the glimpse he caught of who he thought was Sausage made him stop and stare in shock.

Green, translucent skin and pink hair greeted him, strange clear eyes staring back from what was definitely Sausage’s face. He was wearing the same clothes as the last time Scott had seen him, although they hung oddly on his frame and there was residue from gunpowder dirtying his shirt. Scott recovered from his shock and tried to block his line of sight again, but the alien version of Sausage stopped him. “No, don’t look away. This is important. Now, listen to me: Do you want to forget this ever happened? I can make him forget, and I can make you forget.”

“Make… him? So you’re… not Sausage? What are you?”

“Very long story. If you forget it won’t matter anyway. Let’s just say I needed to borrow him. No, keep looking at me. I still need you to end this.”

“Then…make sure we get this book. In case one of us comes back like me again.” Scott pointed with the book’s spine toward the bit of cobblestone wall where the black cloth was still laid out. Pseudo-Sausage nodded, and Scott backed up to place the book on it, glancing away only long enough to make sure it was properly on the wall and wouldn’t fall off. Then he said, “Forgetting won’t take away the guilt, you know.”

“That’s a matter for you. My business is vengeance. You can think of this situation as that. You’re knocking me loose, but I’ll avenge this mate of yours before I go.”

Understanding dawned on Scott. He suppressed a grateful smile and continued to hold his stare. The black mist appeared around pseudo-Sausage’s hands and feet, progressing even faster than before.

The alien looked down at his hands, holding one up to study the effect. “Hm, that will do. Next we just…” He took a small silver box from his pocket and fiddled with it. “Wait, that’s not… Right, got it.”

Scott watched curiously and leaned forward a little. A beam of bright red energy shot out of the front of the box, striking him in the chest. He dropped to the floor without a sound. The alien then sighed and placed the box on the ground by the cave’s entrance, then sat down next to Scott and waited.

~*~

When Sausage woke he first registered the sunlight streaming in from the front of the cave, and that was a relief. At least the night full of hordes of monsters was over. Next, however, came the feeling of the cave wall pressing in on him. His body felt oddly spread out, like his shoulders were too wide and his arms farther apart. He tried to move a little and nearly hit his head on close-hanging rock. Had there been some creeper around that collapsed a wall on him?

His gaze fell on a book sitting upon the black cloth where arrows and a potion had been, seeming far below his line of sight. That hadn’t been there before. He reached for it and—

Well, if he had been able to pick it up he probably wouldn’t have been able to turn the pages. His hand was gigantic in comparison. It wasn’t the cave that had changed. He had gotten bigger. But where was… “Ohgod. Scott? Scott??” The only thing stopping him from looking around in a panic was the threat of hitting his head again. “Please don’t tell me I crushed you…”

“Over here.” The voice had a strange quality to it, reminding him of endermen speech.

It took a moment because he was looking for a regular-sized person, but what he finally did see was a small (was it extra small because he was so big?) creature with purple crystalline horns coming out of its forehead, strangely shaped motes floating around pale yellow hair, and violet eyes that stared up at him. “Or down here, I guess I should say.”

“Oh, you’re tiny. That’s kind of cute.” Sausage giggled.

“And you’re stuck. I don’t know if you’ll fit through the way out even if you can crawl over there. Of all the places to turn into a giant,” Scott mused. “I’ll go get a pickaxe and try to get you out.”

“Wait, there’s a book here, it wasn’t in that bundle. I can’t, uh, pick it up.”

“All right, let me see.” The wall was just low enough for Scott to reach it. He started to flip through the book, wondering what relevance it had in the wake of them being shot by the terrifying skeletal archer. “This is…my handwriting. I don’t remember doing this.”

“What does it say?”

“Something about a creature called an Enigma. Huh… Oh! I put a little note at the end. …Oh.”

“That didn’t sound good.”

“That’s the thing that killed me when I was an angel.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know why this was here, but I guess I found information or something? But I still don’t remember writing this.”

“Maybe… it’s the cave. Like you found the crossbow and stuff, and the first time I came in here I found stuff I could use as a wither. I didn’t question it before.”

“The cave has prescient abilities?”

“I don’t know. Weirder things have happened.”

Scott batted at one of the motes floating around his head, not that it really did anything to affect it. “Obviously. Well, give me a few minutes.” He scurried out of the cave and Sausage couldn’t contain another giggle while watching him. He then worked on maneuvering around to do the aforementioned crawling toward the cave’s entrance, earning a few scrapes in the process when trying to figure out where his limbs could fit. This was going to take some getting used to.

Scott returned and started work on expanding the sides of the entrance. Sausage noticed the extra pickaxe strapped to his back. “Why did you bring a gold one?”

“I don’t know. I just kind of wanted it.”

“Huh, so… where am I going to sleep now? I’m not going to fit in the house…”

~*~

As time went on the cycle just kept continuing for the two of them. An excessively packed TNT trap took out Sausage despite his extra resilience as a giant, although it was that resilience that shielded Scott from the blast. Yet before long, in a similar fashion, Scott was caught unaware by a creeper, which dealt immediate death due to his smaller, less hardy state.

They soon found themselves in a new unusual situation when Sausage became an owl and Scott a red panda. They made a nest inside a small forest cave as they adjusted to animalistic senses, although it didn’t last long anyway when a dire wolf found them.

Throughout it all they stayed together as best they could, while Sausage soon outpaced Scott in the count as he continued to be driven to protect him. A lengthy amount of peace came again when Scott found himself settling in as a floran, content to just tend gardens again while the very plants themselves grew upon him, giving him his own personal flower crown at all times. Meanwhile, the various pools and house pond came in handy again when Sausage had a turn at being a merling. Scott took out his old trident to give him tips on using it, and showed him the best spots for fishing in the river. There weren’t as many adventures anymore, and as Scott put it one time, “Now I don’t have to go far to get the flowers I want.”

Reminded of a particular flower-gathering disaster, Sausage was glad to agree.

~*~

Scott idly kicked his bare feet in the water of the deeper of the western ponds, smiling at a late afternoon butterfly that was investigating the flowers growing in his hair. Sausage had been napping at the bottom of the pond and was on his way up while Scott simply waited for him, a picnic dinner set out nearby and plans to watch the sunset ahead of them.

Surfacing near the middle, Sausage swam over and rested his webbed hands on the tops of Scott’s feet, which the floran lightly alternated again to create small ripples between them. Sausage smiled up at him then patted one of his knees before going to the side and hauling himself out. With water running down his face from his hair, he gave Scott a little kiss, then they moved to the picnic blanket to eat.

It was a perfect evening… up until the red of the sunset failed to fade from the sky. Sausage peered at the horizon, doublechecking the sun’s position. “Um… Not liking that. We should maybe get inside…”

“Too late.” Scott was already looking toward the villa. Creepers and spiders had begun to appear en masse, and a group of zombies was starting to head their way. Scott put his hands to the ground and after a scowl of concentration, twisting vines emerged from the grass in front of the undead, tangling around them as they shambled forward. He caught up a few creepers as well.

Sausage reached back into the pond where he had left the trusty trident leaning on the wall, having a habit of keeping it nearby at all times. “We’re getting to the river this time,” he insisted. Scott nodded and left the sentient vines to do their work without him, and together they ran for the waterfall. Unimpeded this time, they reached the fountain and slid down into the river below. After the brief plunge they both surfaced and assessed the threat collecting on the banks to either side. They began to swim underwater with the current, hoping it would speed them along a little faster, with Scott leaving a trail of petals as the flowers were pulled from his hair by each dive.

Sausage dealt with any Drowned they encountered, which for the moment were thankfully few. But skeletal archers on the banks were becoming wise to their presence, and the two had to start diving deeper to avoid the arrows, with the merling providing breaths of air when it became too dangerous to surface. They found respite when the river opened up toward the ocean, but colder depths weren’t very agreeable to a floran so they started to head back up and hoped to find a spot of land with the least number of mobs possible.

As much as Scott didn’t mind Sausage kissing him to give him air, he was glad for the next breath he took on his own as he reached the surface first, and one of the green tendrils in his hair poked at his ear as if to tell him they didn’t appreciate being submerged for that long. Scott brushed at it and looked around for a safe place to get out, starting to feel a little uneasy without soil beneath his feet. The nearby beach, however, was already crawling with zombies, and they were now beginning to funnel toward him, sinking as they hit the water only to start being converted into Drowned.

Sausage had been scouting from below and grimaced at the sight as he swam back upward, but he had located what he had been looking for. He surfaced and reached for Scott with his free hand. “I know you would really rather get back on land right about now, but there’s no safety at all there. I found a spot we can hide out in until daybreak, it’s just another little swim down. Come on, I’ve got you.” He offered a reassuring smile.

Scott brushed at the tendril by his ear again, then smiled back, trusting the merling. Together they dived back under and Sausage guided the way. A trench lined with exposed magma provided a natural barrier but crossing it was risky for the floran. Sausage wrapped his arms around him and used the trident to propel through the water across it as fast as he could, then continued swimming for a little ways through a crevice before letting him go and pointing upward.

Above was a small pocket of humid air within a section of the tiniest lush cave either of them had ever seen. The glowberry vines barely had any fruit but it was enough light to see by. Scott gratefully climbed up from the deepslate to sink his feet into the clay. It wasn’t dirt, but it was enough to sustain the dripleaf, the nearest of which he petted as it leaned toward him on its stalk. New flower buds began to form in his hair. Sausage watched with a smile. It was always fascinating to see that happen.

Something gurgled behind him. The smile fell from his face, stomach turning with dread. So much for being safe. He only had time to notice that the Drowned that had found them had a head like a wither skeleton before a smoky black trident was thrust into his chest, and then he was the one gurgling as he was pushed backward against the clay wall, his own trident falling from his hand.

“SAUSAGE!” Scott yelled. Acting fast, he caused scores of dripleaf to erupt from the ground and shoot up to the ceiling, cutting off the wither-Drowned. As he rushed over, glowberry vines descended upon Sausage, wrapping around his chest to stem the flow of blood from his wounds, although Scott worried how effective it would be if the accursed trident had pierced too deep. “Hold on, hold on, Sausage, I’ll – I’ll think of something, okay?” He clasped the merling’s face between his hands, hoping to get him to focus on him. Sausage smiled weakly but there was already blood seeping out between the vines.

And then the withering took effect. With nothing to counteract it, at that point Scott could do little more than hold Sausage’s hand until the merling’s grip grew slack. As unfortunate as it seemed, it was now something they had grown accustomed to. Scott cradled him in his arms, leaving the vines in place to keep the wounds covered until Sausage regenerated with the change to a new form.

With no other indication of the hour, he relied on the progression of the original meager vines on the cave ceiling to mark time. Slowly but steadily they grew downward, and occasionally a new cluster of berries blinked into existence, adding a little more light. But after a while Scott decided it was a terrible way to keep track of time, because it seemed to be taking too long.

“Sausage, come back to me, please. Y-You can’t just leave me in here, okay?” He tried to laugh. “This was your idea. You know, it’s kind of silly, putting ourselves in a dead end like this with no plan for a way back if you can’t swim us out.” He leaned his head over his face, teardrops falling onto Sausage’s cheeks. “I’m sorry I said that. It wasn’t silly. It was a good idea. I should have blocked the way behind us sooner, just as a precaution. I’m sorry I keep relying on you to protect us. Y-You’re going to come back, right? You have to. …Sausage?”

He stroked his hair then slipped a hand under the vines to check for a heartbeat. “L-Listen, Sausage, I can get us out, don’t worry about that part. I can get roots to dig through even the stone and we won’t have to worry about the swimming part no matter what you are. But you’ve got to come back first. Okay?”

Scott gently laid him against the clay wall so he could climb a little higher and touch the ceiling to start summoning the roots as promised. If the unthinkable happened, he still needed a way out… He then sank to his knees and looked at his hands, feeling helpless. “W-What am I supposed to do if you don’t come back? Sausage…tell me?”

New light suddenly blazed into view, but it wasn’t the soft orange of a glowberry. It was silvery and bright, and it came from between the vines around Sausage’s chest. Scott uttered a gasp of relief and hurried back down toward where he lay. The light spread, engulfing Sausage’s body as he was finally revived. The vines fell away, and before the glow even faded his silhouette alone stopped Scott in his tracks. The former merling didn’t move right away and so he couldn’t help crying out, “Sausage! Sausage! Please, wake up!”

On Sausage’s part, he was a little disoriented by the light but as it dimmed he could see the new, full blooms in Scott’s hair and thought to himself that this was good, because it meant the floran was unharmed. But he himself felt like he was on fire. “Urg…my head…is buzzing. Am I a thunderborn again?”

Scott answered with a voice full of awe, “No…No, you absolutely are not.”

Sausage shifted to sit up and felt a weight on his back. A familiar one, and… in three different places. The fire actually seemed to be focused behind his head. He stood up and like he had as a giant felt like he was towering over Scott, but it was only an illusion because of the power thrumming through his body.

“A-Angel,” Scott stammered. “…My…angel.”

Holy power was what he felt, stronger than ever before. Sausage looked around at himself, folding one set of wings forward so he could look at them. This time his feathers were white with silver edges, a barely perceptible pattern along the tips. There were three pairs of wings altogether; he wasn’t just any old angel this time. The memory of hierarchies and titles came to his mind. The fire at the back of his head was his halo, and its light was shining on Scott’s face like the sun. When he held out a hand toward the floran, Scott reached for him in turn and a vine coiled out along his arm, splitting into multiple leaves and a small sunflower that all turned upward toward the seraph’s face.

Sausage offered a quiet laugh and made an effort to consciously dim his aura. The vine withdrew and the sunflower popped up in Scott’s hair amongst the others. “Well, I think I can safely say that with this much power, nothing is going to hurt you ever again.”

Scott gave a laugh of his own. “So, you’re now the guardian angel you’ve always wanted to be. I would say you’ve earned it, and… everything might have been worth it.”

Sausage grinned at that, and pulled him closer to wrap him in his larger pair of wings for a hug. “We’ll wait here a little longer. I’m not that eager to test out my smiting abilities yet.”

As he leaned in for a kiss, the other flowers in Scott’s hair fell off and were replaced by a new crown made up of more small sunflowers.

~To be continued in Then We’ll Rewrite the Stars~

[Post A/N: This fic was planned out before I saw Scott’s Empires S2 skin so the two different color eyes is still a reference to his Angel and Merling skins, and borrowing the idea from Lizzie that an Enigma can be a mix of someone’s previous origins. Also borrowed Jimmy’s Thornling design because there wasn’t much I could do with a potted cactus, lbr.]

#alsmp #alsmp fanfic #alsmpshipping #scosage #scott smajor #mythicalsausage #dangthatsalongname #merling!scott #gravital!sausage #goolien!sausage #admittedly brief appearances by #giant!sausage #thornling!scott #and introducing...#floran!scott #and #merling!sausage #soul liminality 2 #lunar yarns

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rosieartsie · 2 years

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A nice little excerpt from what I've written up today. No context for you :3

TW: Horror, possession, sickness, death mention

He looks up from examining the votive patchwork of his tattoos to meet Vincente’s gaze and then looks across the street as the officers are turning away to leave Ms.Dorothy alone with this darkness weaning itself into her, oblivious of course, but looking at each other with a veiled, half hearted concern, a repulsion they share but don’t intend to do anything about because they don’t have to do fucking anything, really. Ms. Dorothy watches them from her doorway, and she looks mostly like herself, mostly. She looks like she’s herself but she’s ill. There’s an old paper yellowness to her that’s replaced the rosey whiteness of her skin. Mercutio has always thought Ms.Dorothy runs hot, her hands, bony and thin as they are, are always so warm and she’s got a redness to her cheeks and chin and forehead that almost make her look cold-chapped. Now, that color is replaced with a jaundiced, spoiled cream color that’s only so clearly visible because rather than coming to the door presentable (she’s always quite concerned with being presentable and lovely to look at), she’s in a nightgown of sorts, arms and clavicles and calves exposed, the aging state of her body not hidden away behind frills and knitted sweaters and pearls. Her hair is in disarray, barely kept in a braid of goldish grey that looks like it’s been whipped from her tossing and turning in bed. She normally wears it in a style that would make you think she’s an old Texas bell, high up in the back, teased to perfection, bangs curled and not a hair out of place… she barely looks like herself answering the door like that. She never would, Mercutio knows- she’d sooner die, than let anyone see her in such a state, and that tells him even more than his tattoos ablaze across his skin that something is terribly wrong.

Mercutio has half the mind to wonder if this is somehow personal, that two people close to him have the same affliction so close together. He immediately feels immensely guilty for thinking such a thing. He is aware, and capable, and not fucking possessed. Ms. Dorothy is having her body and mind invaded and Dorrance is dead after enduring some yet to be known torment. It’s ridiculous to be selfish about this, he sees it now even though he will never, ever tell Vincente as much. He does however, decide instantly that they must help, they must know this strangeness and know it well enough to fight it and win. Mercutio knows that there’s no choice in this as he watches Ms.Dorothy lift her long, elegant hand and wave it slowly like a parade float princess, smiling too wide, cheeks bent in pinched, deep dimples, teeth yellowed with cigarette smoking and time. The smile reminds him of something, but he can’t put his finger on it just then as he’s watching her. The smile stays even as she swivels, body twisting round to go back inside slow and mechanical, experimental almost, as though she might tip over if she does it too fast and not just right. She moves like she isn't familiar with the pedagogical requirements of doing it and she has to feel for the right twist of her spine and placement of her feet... it's as eerie as Dorrance's disjointed, stricken movements even from this far away. The burning is gone with the closing of her door, like a flick of a switch that shuts off a series of cattle prods all searing away at Mercutio’s flesh. He knows why too- why that door does the trick.

Ms. Dorothy is a funny, superstitious woman who would be called an agnostic if she bothered with such labels. She doesn’t- she’s from Appalachian country, from woody, grassy, bum-fuck nowhere Kentucky sort of Appalachia, and she’s said more than once that she only fears God and His almighty power, but everything else she gives fair and ample caution. In honor of that caution there’s a bottle of nails buried next to her mail box and brick powder mixed with salt carefully kept across her windows and door seals. With that much caution, with her sincere believe, like it's just a fact of life that there are supernatural things to worry about, how the fuck did anything touch her? Faith isn’t always enough, often it’s half the source of such troubles… but Ms.Dorthy? With her wards and her ancient things and her certainty that God’s green earth ‘bares beasts that you really just don’t fuck with and I ain’t talkin’ bob cats’? How could anything, why would anything touch her?

It’s a desperate, stupid question, Mercutio realizes. A child’s question. A question for fucking amateur hour. A question he will have to abandon if they go after this new, blooming evil because what's been abundantly clear from the news papers and tabloid stories that have been piling us is that it doesn’t make sense. It hasn’t made sense in all the other towns and it won’t make sense in this one. If he wants to save her, which he does more than he’s wanted most anything, he will have to abandon what he feels is convention. What he’s known is convention but is already so unconventional- this brand new amalgamation of torment that is spreading its roots here will need to be taken in with the freshest eyes. He isn’t sure he’s ready for it, but who the fuck is ever ready for this sort of thing to close it’s fists around their lives? He looks to Vincente again and while the words are buzzing loudly in his jaw and squeezing at the muscles in his neck, he says them.

“Get the books. We have to help her, now. I’ll tell you what it feels like, but it’s the same as Dorrance. I don’t know what it is.” It’s never come out this way. Back then, it was always just a little different in such a big way. Get the books. We have to help. I’ll tell you what it feels like. I think I know what it is. I know what it is. I know how we can help. Mercutio has never had to say for long that he doesn’t know what something is… there’s always precedent, evil is as old as the world… but now, with this, he’s not sure. He’s not sure that what has abandoned Dorrance and is now wedging itself into Ms. Dorothy has ever been here in the world until recently. Will the books even help? Or are the books, like everything else he and Vincente knows, old fucking news? If Mercutio believed in prayer… he’d pray now, that they have something to bring into this new age of terror to save Ms. Dorothy… to save everyone here… to help some how.

#New Faith #original story #horror #possession #just a little treat since I've been writin' most of today #or trying to at least lol #it's been hard goin' today

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lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 2 years

Text

"Home of the Lost: Chapter 24"

Aaah we're getting closer and closer to the story line of the movie! What would you like to see? Hope you like this!💜

----------------------------

"How long have you been a vampire?" Eleanor asked as she sat on the couch, a cup of blood in her hands.

"Three weeks."

"How's your control this good?"

"It isn't, really. David just takes me feeding twice a night so I won't attack any locals."

"David's still around?"

"Didn't you know that?"

Eleanor shook her head. "No, I - I listened by the door, but the only ones I ever heard were Paul, Marko, and Dwayne."

"Were you two close?"

"Eventually. In the beginning, I couldn't stand him, and he me. He thought I was too young to be one of them, too gullible, and he despised how close I was with Paul and Marko. Over time, we became close. He used to read me murder mysteries before bed," Eleanor smiled, "voices and all. He took me to drive-in cinemas, where we would spend more time scaring the other guests than watching the movie. It was fun."

"I can't imagine him doing that... He's so well, him all the time. Kind of moody, kind of controlling, you know?"

Eleanor couldn't help but giggle. Star looked at the young girl, a smile forming on her lips. It might be fun to have her around, to not be stuck with just the boys all the time.

"What was it like when you changed?"

Eleanor was quiet for a moment. "A relief, I suppose. I was rather ill and had been for a while. I had lived with them for a couple of years by then, and they treated me like family. One evening, right after the doctor had seen me telling me and them that I would recover, Marko ran in. He seemed panicked, and before I could ask what was wrong, I began to cough up blood, getting weaker with the second. He had smelt the stench of death and force-fed me his blood. Paul ran in soon after. He bit me to make sure I would change. Two days later, I woke up, and -"

"Wait, you needed to be bitten to change?"

"I guess it was more a matter of the both of them wanting to be a part of my change than that it was a necessity, but I'm not sure. Paul always told me there were different kinds of vampires, so it might very well be that he comes from a line of vampires where the bite is necessary for the change."

"Did you learn to control your thirst well?"

Eleanor shook her head. "The first two years I didn't even know people had to die in order for me to survive. The two of them went out and always returned with a bottle of blood for me to drink. They knew I would have a problem with it, and I think they wanted me to keep some form of innocence."

Star couldn't help but laugh. "That must have been traumatising to find out."

"I think it was for the best though, the first time after I realised how they got my food and I had demanded to hunt myself, I might have traumatised the public just a little to much."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"We lived in London back then, near Whitechapel. You've heard of Jack the Ripper?"

"That was you?!"

"Not on purpose, and to be honest, Paul is the one who sent the notes and other things. I think he made it worse, trying to cover it all up, and we were forced to move after that, but yeah... Just to say that my thirst wasn't easily controlled."

Both girls looked at each other, smiling.

Star told her about why she escaped to Santa Carla, how she met the boys, how she had seen the red diary move, and how she had seen the ghost of her. Eleanor, in her turn, told her about how she and Paul and Marko had become part of the boys' group and how she was eventually accepted into the family.

After hours and hours of talking, the girls fell asleep, leaning against each other. A dark shadow began to take shape out of the darkest corners of the room. Soon it had formed into something loosely resembling a human. Bright glowing eyes stared at the youngest girl as he touched her hair. The brown strand turned an ashen black upon its touch. The shape grinned before walking out of the cave.

He had things to do.

"Here, let me help you," Charles Emerson smiled kindly at Josephine Johnson as she moved to get out of bed. Her walking stick, something the doctors had insisted upon, was handed to her by Charles, who then gently led her outside. It had been several weeks since the accident, and she was finally well enough to return home. She took one last look at the flowers in the room, at least three of them from the boys themselves, before following Charles.

"You've been very kind to me."

"Rightfully so. What else should I be to you?"

Jo smiled, looking at the man. "I mean to say that I enjoy your company."

"Then let's make it regularly. It won't do to have you up and about all day when you still need to take rest. So, you can come to my place. If you want."

"Oh, I couldn't."

"Of course you can. What, is the offer of some good company and food not enough?"

"Well-"

"I can add line dancing, but that's it, lady," Charles grinned, leading her to his car. In the past few weeks, he had spent almost every possible moment with Josephnie , growing to like her quickly. She had not mentioned anything about the accident she had been in, but it didn't matter. They had shared stories about their respective lived and dreams, long lost hopes and wishes, and hopeful futures for family members. It had been nice, he realised, to have a companion next to him. Someone he could trust, someone he could talk to and laugh with. And he just hoped, with every fibre in his body, that she would feel the same way about him.

He shut the door, turning the car on before driving off. As they arrived at his house, and old cabin-style strupture, he couldn't help but grin.

"Mi casa, tu casa. Or whatever it is," Charles grinned.

Josephine smiled in return. She was gonna like it here.

#the lost boys #horror #marko #david #paul #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb #star #home of the lost #hotl #long post

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is-on-its-way · 3 months

Text

Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more - 3 But is was merry. Very.

Post-Episode: s06e06 How the Ghosts Stole Christmas

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Part of the Scully is a human Series

———

She walked outside expecting to see Mulder pulling out or already gone. Her heart fluttered when she saw him standing by his car leaning on the door. Seemingly waiting for her. She walked across the lawn to him and dropped her bags in the grass. She stepped off the curb and leaned on the car next to him, still holding the bottle of whiskey. They stood silently for a while before Mulder spoke.

“If I was a smoking man I'd be having one right about now.”

“Mulder I’m sorry.” She turned her head to look up at him.

“Don’t worry about it Scully.” He looked back at her “Its not Christmas in the Mulder household without someone screaming about repressed emotions. It was like home. You’ll have to excuse me for leaving I didn’t want to ruin the rest of your very normal family’s night.”

“Were not normal. We’re Irish. I could tell you a ton of stories just like this.” She sighed.

Mulder laughed “Well I think getting into a fight with your brother would’ve ruined the night for everyone.”

She laughed for a split second but it turned to tears. Mulder put an arm around her and squeezed her close. She wiped her tears and shook her head trying to smile.

He looked up at the stars. “You’re not responsible for Melissa’s death Scully.” He said quietly. “Krychek is, and I promise you one day, I’ll be there when he faces the consequences.”

Scully sighed and leaned into him.

“I left. Im going back with you.”

“No, you’re going to go back inside to work it out with your family.”

She pulled away and gave him a determined look. A look Mulder knew well and adored. “Mulder I’ve had enough of people telling me what I can and cant do for one night. Besides I told Bill I’m dead to him, I cant go back in there now.”

Mulder looked sheepish “I’m sorry Scully, I shouldn’t have come.”

She put a hand on his cheek. “Mulder this isn’t your fault. My brother takes after my father, he’s controlling and he thinks thats love.” She turned back to the car crossing her arms “But my dad was good-natured and cheery. Bill’s devoid of humour and has a mean streak like no other.”

Mulder played with a pebble in the road and nodded.

She pursed her lips and tilted her head.

“Drive to my place and I’ll make us some tea.” She held up the whiskey and Mulder laughed.

“We can watch a movie or I can tell you about the great Scully feud of ’83.” She didn’t want to let him alone after the things Bill had said. She didn’t want to be alone after the things Bill had said to her either.

Mulder smiled at this and looked up at the stars again.

“I rented Die Hard” She said in a sign song voice.

He smiled at this and met her eyes. “The answer was going to be yes anyway.”

“Good” She said smirking. She gathered her things, went to her car and got in.

She pulled up behind him and parked, he was leaning against his car again apple cake container on the trunk. She climbed out of her car and got all of her bags.

She walked up to him a smile on her face

He said “Beat you”

“I didn’t know we were in a race” she said playfully defensive.

He scooped up the apple cake.

“We’re always in a race” he smirked and took the bags from one side of her shoulders.

She laughed as they made their way inside.

“This is incredible” Mulder said his mouth full. “I completely renounce apple pie.”

“It's good isn’t it.” Scully smiled taking a bite of the piece in her hand.

They were sitting on her striped plush couch facing each other. Scully was cross legged, the bundt shaped cake between them a knife lying on the top. They had no plates and were eating with their hands.

“I hope your mom knows Ill be expecting one of these every Christmas.”

“Ill let her know” Scully smirked.

They washed the cake down with healthy pours of the whiskey. Mulder sipped. Scully downed hers in one. She drank whiskey like it was water, there was no trace of disgust on her face. It impressed and intrigued him.

Mulder raised his eyebrows. She shrugged back.

“What” she said

Mulder shook his head, “You’re impressive thats all. Where’d you learn to drink whiskey like that?”

“I think it started with whiskey on our gums when we were teething.”

Mulder blinked

“Cradle to grave” she said pouring another glass and setting the bottle down on the coffee table.

Mulder couldn’t help but find this version of Scully extremely attractive.

He finished his piece, put the cake on the coffee table, and put his knee up on the couch getting more comfortable.

“How was it growing up with that many cousins and siblings and aunts and uncles?”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t have much family growing up, I just want to know how you liked it I guess.”

“Well… it was a lot of fun. The was always someone to play with or to talk to, or someone coming over with food or games or something. I guess I never really thought about what it would be like not to have all that. Even when we moved to San Diego, there was always family coming to stay during summers, and school vacations.”

He nodded “What’s you favorite childhood memory?”

Scully thought for a moment “The summer before we moved to San Diego. We all went to a beach in Maryland as a sort of farewell. I don’t even remember where, it had cabins and barbecues. The grown ups set up hammocks and a campsite, and everyone played in the water and spent the whole week in swimsuits. We ran through the woods playing cowboys and Indians and Missy, Corinne, Connie, and I teamed up against the boys.” She smiled fondly “At the end we went out on boats and watched the 4th of July fireworks on the bay as the sun set.

“That sounds like heaven”

She nodded “A perfect summer memory. Whats you favorite childhood memory?” Scully faltered she hadn’t been thinking when she turned the question back around. Mulder hadn’t had the happy childhood she’d had, it had been marred by his sisters abduction.

Mulder saw her apprehension and said “Its okay, I do have happy memories from before Samantha was taken.” He looked off to his left, remembering. “She called me fennec when we weren’t fighting.” He smiled at the confusion on her face. “Because her favorite animal was the fennec fox, she’d seen one on some tv report about Algeria or something. She went to the library and checked out the one book they had on foxes and sent away for a poster."

Scully's eyebrows knit and she pressed her lips together in empathy. He looked at her quickly before continuing.

"We used to ride our bikes around the whole island in summer. We'd skip rocks in the ocean, and collect mussels, and sit on the bluffs and watch the sun rise. We had a tab at the local ice cream shop and we'd get some every day. She'd try every flavour by the end of every summer, but I just stuck to rocky road. I… That was when I was younger, I wasn’t so nice to her that last year, somehow she turned into my annoying little sister.” He looked down shamefaced.

Scully said "Mulder" quietly.

“I was horrible to her. I was impatient and mean.” His voice grew husky with emotion and he blinked his eyes rapidly. “The last thing I said to her was…” he shook his head, he couldn’t say it out loud. ‘Get out of my life’ he’d told her. And then she had.

“You sound like me and Charlie. You know, you remind me of Charlie sometimes. He was always getting me into some sort of trouble.” She said fondly and the edges of Mulder’s lips turned upward against his sorrow. She put her hand over his resting on the back of the couch. “Thats not mean Mulder. You sound like any two brother and sister with a bit of an age gap. You just never got the chance to grow out of it and get close again. You don’t have it in you to be truly terrible.”

Mulder looked like he was having trouble believing her. She said "I mean it. You're a good person, Mulder."

Mulder swallowed but didn't say anything. He didn't think he'd be able to if he tried. He settled for taking her hand from where it rested on his and giving her a squeeze.

Scully’s face fell slightly, pensive, then she said. “Bill liked to torture all of us, me especially. I think because he could tell I was our fathers favorite. He’d take pleasure in seeing me cry, he’d shove me to the ground any chance he got, and throw things at me." she gave a hallow laugh. "but only when we were playing in the woods, away from our parents.”

“He sounds like a great guy” Mulder said grimacing.

“I never tattled on him. I knew our dad would punish him for touching a girl. And I was one of the boys.” she said the last bit with a sarcastic smile.

Mulder squeezed her hand again.

She looked down and whispered “Do you know once I got this bunny from the yard. I spent days making friends with him, he’d hop right up to me. I called him Hops. One day it was raining and he hopped up to me soaking wet. So I bought him up to my room. Bill found out and was so enraged I had him.”

“But why?” Mulder asked enthralled.

“He… I don’t know” She looked ashamed. “He told me he’d cook him and turn him into stew and I’d seen him kill animals before, I knew he'd do it if he got the chance, so I hid him. I put him in my lunchbox and gave him water and a paper towel and I told him I’d be back to get him in a little while.”

“Oh no.” Mulder said looking stricken

She looked up at him chin quivering “Well I went back the next day. He was dead by then, suffocated.” Scully had tears streaming down her cheeks. Dripping on her collar bones.

“It had been a heat wave.” She whispered “I can still remember the smell.”

Mulder stroked her arm.

“That wasn’t your fault.” He said gently

“I guess I know that now, but I spent so many years after that praying for forgiveness. Knowing I was going to go to hell for it.” She took a deep steadying breath and shook her head “He’s always been horrible and Ive always excused it and forgiven without question. Always.” She looked at him with devastation on her face and whispered “Why did I do that?”

“He’s family." Mulder said gently. "It's hard when your family lets you down, you know what they’re supposed to be to you. Kind. Loving. A safe place to land when the world beats you up. So you see that idea of them, instead of what they actually are, because if you acknowledge the pain they cause…” He shook his head.

Scully nodded. “Yeah, thats it exactly.” She had an inkling he was speaking from personal experience.

She let go of his hand and leaned into him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She breathed a long sigh “Thank you for coming here Mulder” she said quietly

He was lost in thought. Of his parents and his childhood and his sister and Scully’s family and her childhood.

A while later he asked “Do you want to watch that movie now?”

Mulder looked down, she was asleep, mouth slightly parted. He chuckled softly. He loved this Scully. This wild out of control version of her that sometimes reared its head. She was a sight to behold when she was indignant and offended. When she let her guard down. She was normally so exquisitely controlled and sensible. He loved that about her as well.

He slid his other arm under her thighs and picked her up easily. she slept on, as he carried her to her bed. he placed her down and with trouble took her shoes off. He got her under the covers with some difficulty, pulling them out from under her. She turned over and muttered

“Don’t make the fish drink the whiskey.”

He chuckled again, they were going to be so hungover tomorrow. He returned to the living room. He was too drunk now to drive home. He flipped on the tv and played the movie. Wrapping himself up in a crocheted blanket.

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